You know, ever since January I have been washing everything and taking out all the trash and cleaning and organizing and folding and putting away and grocery shopping and bill-paying and calling contractors and making appointments. I am losing it here. My attempts to do things like keep the kitchen table cleared off morning and evening are failing miserably.
And I haven't unpacked everything yet and can't find my books and haven't done any school work in a WEEK. I look at it around 9:30pm and just can't handle it and must find something byzantine or geological to read. I can't find my proust book and it sucked anyway. Everything seems like drudgery. my brain is wading through molasses. I could not make the joropo transcription for piano come out right. I am good for nothing but housework tonight so i have been forcing myself to drearily do things like clean the catbox and fold up the cardboard boxes for recycling. everything still a mess though. it was clean on sunday morning.
I look around and try to identify why it is so messy. What the fuck. the table was clean quite recently. 1 phone book. my own phone book. a magazine of moomin's. A book for my bilingual project, listlessly got out and thumbed through a little. a slip of paper where moomin wrote the numbers 1-10. a flyer from the City of Deadwood Shitty. A paper with the song "los pollitos dicen"- Moomin's. A phone bill I didn't understand - is it a bill? a piece of crucial info? An ad? leftover birthday cake on a plate with a bowl on top. a roll of painter's masking tape. 5 limes. a half-full water bottle. the nearly empty bottle of ketchuup left out by rook. a spiral notebook, moomin's. Some dishes, all Moomin's. A dr. seuss book. My social security statement. our bank statement. the oxford book of christian names (for w1ttig project). six pens. my keys. My tear-stained glasses. three dirty kleenex. a paper with rook's trip itenerary to L.A. the telephone. the recycling stickers. sugar. pepper. three jackets of mine. an apron. dishtowels. my laptop. My elbows.
everything must go.
some sort of hard work should make me feel better but i can't figure out what. after this weekend I swore no "nightcap" for a while as I kept drinking these 11pm giant rum and fruit juice drinks because of being so stressed. I have to fucking cope.
I have not been to my usual poetry things for MONTHS and i really need them I think.
what the fuck is my problem... life is good... why am i flying apart?