all day long all i could do was obsess over sharing a meat platter with fil, i googled hundreds of pictures of meat platters, driving myself crazy, but he had to work a bit later and by the time we got to the hungarian restaurant the whole meat moment had passed. fil got the cabbage roll (gross!) i got perogies and “sausage” – i couldn’t even eat the sausage, i had a bite, just to taste. the last time we went there i ordered the same thing, and it’s supposed to be an appetizer, and i couldn’t eat the sausage, but i ordered it again anyway, envisioning the sausage in my mind overpowered my smarts about it, thinking i can do this.
i bought pepto bismol tablets just in case.
my kidney hasn’t really been giving me problems lately and my dodgeball pain is finally dissipating, save for my right groin muscle, does muscle pain get stronger before it goes away like how bruises get darker before they fade? i mention this because i still can’t figure out what the cause of all that nausea was before, anyway.
i watched the kurt cobain about a son film just now, and it didn’t depress me as much as i thought it would, it did make me sad, and it’s quite bittersweet. it mostly reminded me of how sad i was when i was a tween/teenager and how much i hid it because i thought it would make people think i was crazy, or i wouldn’t get a boyfriend, you know, emo before emo was emo.
i used to fall asleep with my cd player on by my head with nirvana tapes, then cd’s playing and i invented this fantasy for myself that kurt cobain wasn’t dead, it was a grand hoax and he was alive up north in canada at the cottages we used to rent over the summer (coincidentally around the corner from fil’s family cottage of his childhood/teens/adult) and i had this pristine vision of coming up to him on the dock patio area by the lake surrounded by evergreens and other up north tree-like shit and we would chat and i would somehow convince him to fall in love with me and he would see how unique and interesting i was and in this fantasy i was really good looking and cool and older or reality didn’t really matter, my age wouldn’t matter.
this is the thought i would conjure up for myself every nite when i went to bed, for months and months and years even. when you’re over-tired and sad you pay a great deal of attention to detail to your fantasies, so it could be an hour lead/build-up to the moment when i would approach him in my mind and by then i would simply fall asleep and i could just visit him again the next nite. this is what took me away every nite, in a way “saved” my fragile psyche if you will. in the movie, kurt talks about pretending he was an alien and being adopted by his family, he wanted to be from another planet so badly, and that other kids he would meet were also aliens and they missed their planets and one day would all figure out what they were supposed to do, that resonated with me so much.
about a son reminded me of how precious your youth is.
in the interviews kurt says a lot of prophetic things that make you cringe a little, about courtney and nirvana and frances, you want to take him by the shoulders and say the right thing.
he talks about his life up until the age of 8 and how his childhood was perfect and happy and then you are wondering what the hell happened after that? you assume oh the parents fucked up right of course, my memory is a bit hazy to all the facts i used to have memorized off the top of my head like any geeky fan girl should, he mentioned at 9 he became a manic depressive and then later on describes pretty much everything about his character that i have also encountered, nervous twitches, OCD, etc. i can’t remember reading about that before, i’m sure i did, but hearing it in the movie was like a door in my mind opening onto a room i forgot even existed, i was like oh yeah, that’s why this guy was such a big deal to me, and to many more i’m sure.
le sigh.
oh and now it’s time for hope&faith my favourite show.
