Monday, July 13, 2009

A collection of depressing random thoughts

They are roofing next door. That is after adding a whole other story on fourth of July weekend, and so, twenty feet from my house, there has been a fairly consistent pounding, and men screaming in Portuguese. Last week, some days, not everyday, it went on until 8 pm. Through naptime. Through dinner. Through my evening tea.

It makes me feel like I am going insane.

Maybe I am going insane. I am definitely pushing the well-adjusted line into bat-shit crazy. They also raised the roof, so all the green treetops I once saw from my dining room/living room window are gone. I just see the side of an incredibly unfriendly house. I could have that view in the city. It is a lesson for anyone thinking of skipping the cement for "greener" pastures. I just keep thinking no one will ever buy our house if we want to sell it. Ever. I feel so trapped. So claustrophobic. So tired. All of it combined makes me so sad.

You need the most love when you are most unlovable. I am wholly unlovable right now. Sad. Incredibly, out-of-control anxious. I am trying to figure out how to soothe myself and then the pounding starts again, yet my daughter sleeps. There is a lesson in that.


If you have noticed, my favorite punctuation mark is the ellipse. My speech is also filled with lengthy pauses, and well, I guess I use them to indicate the lengthy, chin-scratching pause that accompanies my stilted speech.

I also know this is an improper use ellipse. I just don't care.


I want to blog about something profound and lovely, but it's just not in me today. No insights. No beautiful intentions. All day today, I saw my death next to us on the highway in a sudden lane change, in the turn of my ankle walking down the hall to my father's room, on the dark steps to the laundry where I was caught up on my own shoes...I think sometimes that I am putting on my own oxygen mask first. That is what I need to do. Does she know that I am trying to fit the mask over my face first? Does my husband? Do they realize I am trying to save myself, so I can save us all? Will they forgive me?


I thought of a poem today, as I folded laundry, imagining my husband finding me after a particularly ridiculous set of foibles that end with my death. It is called a Black Stone on a White Stone, by César Vallejo. Translated by Robert Bly

I will die in Paris, on a rainy day,
on some day I can already remember.
I will die in Paris–and I don’t step aside–
perhaps on a Thursday, as today is Thursday, in autumn.

It will be a Thursday, because today, Thursday, setting down
these lines, I have put my upper arm bones on
wrong, and never so much as today have I found myself
with all the road ahead of me, alone.

César Vallejo is dead. Everyone beat him
although he never does anything to them;
they beat him hard with a stick and hard also

with a rope. These are the witnesses:
the Thursdays, and the bones of my arms,
the solitude, and the rain, and the roads. . .


  1. LOVE, LOVE, LOVE. Not that I think you're unlovable at all but there is always love to be found here - even when it's a day with no beautiful intentions. It can still be a day to receive compassion from someone who knows.

    Peace today, Angie.

  2. sounds like you need a vacation from your house! coffee shop or park? you can both get a nap then too!

    sorry they f-ed up you view.

    and do take care of yourself.

  3. oh angie,

    i hate that construction shit, it always drives me crazy too. months ago i also heard portugese next door to me all day long, laughing, yelling, music blaring. i went over and asked them not to start so early in the morning, the pounding woke me up, it was so close to my room. i think our neighbor was suprised that i wasn't up and about at 8am. but what i really wanted to do was yell and scream and tell them all that my baby died and they should give me some f*ing peace and quiet. that i need to sleep. that my house and my bed are my safe haven.

    i want to take you away with me in gypsy the getaway van and rest by the river, in the quiet of the mountains.

    hope you can get out to a quiet peaceful place, a park...somewhere, anywhere

    sending you so much love my friend

  4. Our environments have so much to do with our peace of mind. Un-frindly neighbors are terrible as well.
    I hate that you're in such funk. I can not take anxiety. It drives me nuts, creeps up your spine.
    I love you, for who you are, not who you are today.
    It will get better... Lindsay

  5. Sending love your way.

    There was a bang-bang-banging on our outside wall all morning... unfortunately it was Ray removing the rendering from next door's wall (he was asked) so I couldn't swear and throw too many things. So I went out.

    Well adjusted is highly overrated in my opinion.

    Sending a bit more LOVE.


  6. Everything you post is profound and lovely.

  7. Thinking of you today, Angie. Much love to you.

  8. I for one love you to pieces! Unlovable? Pshaw.

  9. sending you oodles of love and hugs. xoxo

  10. "You need the most love when you are most unlovable." YES!!! And then people bail out because they just can't stand to be around you.

    Not that it matters because I'm not around you but I don't think you are unlovable, you are actually very funny, creative, and insightful and I really enjoy reading your posts.

    Sending tons of love to you.

  11. Angie, you are a million miles away from unlovable. Like Hope's Mama, I think that everything you write is profound and lovely. Yes, yes, I know what you are about to say. Yes, even the photograph of the squashed beetle.

    Thank you for the poem.
    'I have put my upper arm bones on
    wrong' why, did that line make me catch my breath. Yes, that is what has gone wrong with me. I have put my upper arm bones on wrong.


  12. I'm all about unconventional and likely terribly wrong use of the ellipse. I support you heartily.

    And what an amazing poem.

  13. Angie, the workmen next door sound like an absolute nightmare, I would defy anyone to live next door to constant thumping noise without it pushing them over the edge.

    You are an amazing, thoughful, creative woman. Bloody hell - I love you and I've never even met you!


  14. Just wanted to say that I think that you are profound and lovely - no matter what you blog about.

    And I love the ellipsis too...

    Sending love...

  15. "saw my death in a sudden lane change"

    I hope you submit a piece to Exhale, even a former blog post. Your writing is beautiful and powerful and filled with little metaphorical references that make my spine tingle.

  16. Angie,

    I'm so sorry you are feeling so down right now. I wish I had some sage advice, but all I can offer is a commitment to abide along with you. I know that's lame. But please know you are in my thoughts, prayers, and heart.

    Huh. I cannot believe the addition was even approved by your city. Have you considered investigating that?

    Peace, my friend.


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