about the difference between real and show

Semester break now. I don't have enough to do to keep me from sleepwalking around the building which is meant to prevent me from falling asleep in my pile of paper. I wonder why it's so hard to sleep at night.

When I was in the office looking at my new schedule, one of the young PE guys strutted over and posed in front of me. I ignored him. He said I am looking for a work-out partner and I see you have a prep in C block too. He delivered this like it was a grand gift and I should have been flattered that he wanted to practice boxing on me. I told him I am looking for someone to hide behind the portables and smoke with me during that block. He laughed like I was the funniest person in the whole world... as if I'm even kidding... as if I wouldn't really do that if there was anyone to share it with... if I was a smoker and if I was sixteen.

I didn't know what else to say so I just left without saying anything, closed the door on him as I went. Escaping to the hallway I was immediately stopped by Mr. School Union Representative who wanted to know how court went and if I needed the union's assistance with anything. Irony. I told him I'm fine and he looked crushed because he'd love to don his cape and pick me up and fly me back to that courtroom and start the whole process over again with me playing victim this time. Sometimes I hate everyone. But I don't think I really mean hate the way other people mean hate.

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I like anger when it isn't coming in my direction. It interests me in that I don't feel angry very often, sometimes find myself too lazy to even raise an eyebrow in disdain. The energy and the commitment behind it is fascinating and I want to know where people find the stamina to be angry both with frequency and with veracity. When I say I'm angry I really just mean I'm nettled and that's pretty much the best I can do.

When I think of things that make me angry the only thing I can come up with is magicians. I hate magicians and they make me angry. But when I say that I probably just mean I feel a little scornful of magicians and they bug me. It's a mild statement devoid of passion. I don't like being tricked or deceived and I find street magic condescending. But even magic doesn't make me angry enough to yell out my window or to throw pointy objects. Or anything. I wish it would.

I wish I could be angry about some things because I think it would be cathartic to have a tantrum or to smash things but I can't seem to muster up enough feeling to make the effort. Instead - it makes me feel wilted.

Greenberg would say I'm emotionally focused, going straight to the underlying emotional core, but I think there's a good reason most people get angry instead. It's more fun and it feels good. I say I'm just pretending - I need to see where you made that card go - it's just more trickery and magic.

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C was discharged from the ninth rehab this afternoon and immediately went back to Hairy Scary so she could be stoned in time to call J at 6:30. It's disappointing to J who wanted to think this time was going to be different. I'm not scornful or nettled or bugged or wilted. I am unsurprised and I do not care.


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Watching Shawn prepare to move across the world is making me itchy. I'm making large plans to run in the dark as far as I can go with my eyes closed until I inevitably stumble. Because I want to be in the dark, I want to be far away, and I want to be falling. I can't get angry but I can probably get lost.


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