psiamnotdrunk

[psiamnotdrunk]

So, got a Pap smear today

I do this thing where I think I'm real sick

But I won't go to the doctor to find out about it

Because they make you stay real still

In a real small space

As they chart up your insides and put them on display

They'd see all of it, all of me, all of it

-rilo kiley

Apparently my cervix is good!!

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Okay, now this place is playing “The Final Countdown”. Points returned.

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Also there is a bee here bothering me so I DEDUCT POINTS. YOU NOW ONLY HAVE 9,999 points

[psiamnotdrunk]

Okay, Brooklyn. Enough with this idyllic shit

[psiamnotdrunk]

Brooklyn Happens In a Week and a Half!

We’ll be in Brooklyn in a week and a half!

We’re looking for any suggestions while we’re there, including how to see your lovely faces, if possible. I’ll mostly be in a conference during the daytime but Noelle will have most of her time free. I mean, is there even anything interesting in New York?

[psiamnotdrunk]

‪To the people who decided to drive through an intersection while my wife and I were crossing it (which is illegal) while on her crutch due to a recently sprained ankle and then flipped us off as we audibly complained: I hope y'all get bed bugs.‬

[psiamnotdrunk]

Annnnnd a much better picture from said bar

From Swarm/Foursquare, from seven years ago. Note the tiny phone, which was my old phone before my first smart phone which took this potato picture of my lovely wife. (at Castro District, San Francisco)

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‪I WON THIS WEIRD RING-TOSS GAME BECAUSE I AM MADE OF MAGIC AND WHISKEY‬

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Nah, I’m good. (at Epic Brewing Company - Denver Taproom)

[psiamnotdrunk]

Two cigarettes in the ashtray

My annual bummer post.

My mom passed now... four years ago? I'm 34, so the math makes sense. Today. The third. Happy Labor Day.

I remembered about 15 minutes into the end of 9/3, and was kind of marred by the fact that we're hosing Doolie, my boss dog, so I cheers my mothers ashes and went out for a drink, as you do.

But I couldn't stop thinking about Doolie. Who was trying to protect me, who was trying to connect with me, who was a good dog.

And that's when I realized: my heart is now open for business. There's the big brick building that chris built when he came along, always permanent; and there are big black holes of sadness where those I've lost love live; but there is some empty space, still, for compassion and affection and caring. Dear god I'm glad I still have that.

I really don't know why I do.

I miss you with all that I have, mom.

So I listened to some Patsy Cline and thought of her tonight.

"I've got your memories

Or has it got me

But I know

It won't let me be."

Also here is a picture of Doolie.

[psiamnotdrunk]

[psiamnotdrunk]

And sometimes, Frances say no.

[psiamnotdrunk]

Top 50 Clothing Items Banned by United Airlines

50. Leggings

49. Armings

48. Giftwrap

47. American Airlines Uniforms

46. Ghillie Suits Fashioned from Airport Terminal Ephemera

45. Oily Ropes

44. Cloaks of the Elders of Gaal-Parânt

43. Dwayne Wayne Shades

42. See-Thru Tuxedo

41. Earth Tones

40. Game-worn Bobby Bonilla Mets Jerseys

39. Strategically Placed Dollar Bills

38. Pope Shit

37. All Laynards

36. Turn Of The Century Beach Attire

35. Wardrobe by Botany 500

34. Homemade White Tape Bodysuits Inspired by Milla Jovovich’s Fifth Element Costume

33. The Robes of Jesus Christ

32. Anything with a Kinda Weird Pattern

31. Most Sports Apparel

30. Barrels with Suspenders

29. Hypercolor

28. Samsung Galaxy 7 Slacks

27. Pre-1991 Bikinis

26. Lasersuits

25. Any Clothing Item Weighing Over 5 Tons

24. Neurotoxin by Calvin Klein

23. Blasphemer’s Shame Caps

22. Bolo Ties

21. Immaculate Replicas of Milla Jovovich’s Fifth Element Costume

20. Most Milks

19. Other Humans Posing as Clothing

18. Blacksmith Bibs

17. Whitesmith Bibs

16. Garments That Are Difficult for Colorblind People To See

15. Jammies

14. Rings of Bureaucratic Wizardry

13. Bubblewrap

12. Mixology Attire

11. Service Animal Vests

10. Orc Diplomacy Armor

9. Milla Jovovich’s Actual Fifth Element Costume

8. Any Garment Fashioned out of Human Remains

7. Loose Fitting Tight Clothes

6. Certain Flannels

5. Any Item Purchased in a Store

4. Fabrics That Have Been Touched By Bleach or Detergent

3. Anything Red

2. Virtual Clothes

1. Flip-flops

[psiamnotdrunk]

Imma need you to shame-post the after pic of the most popcorn in the world.

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[psiamnotdrunk]

Raw

Very, and I mean VERY, shortly after my mother died, a person close to me asked me--- when I was in a stoich, getting-through-this demeanor, “are you even going to cry over this? Have you even cried?” 

Something like that.

Because I love them, and because I am a coward, I will never tell them how much that cut me to the quick. How much that added unnecessary insult to the GODDAMED PROFOUND INJURY OF BEING A FUCKING ORPHAN. I will sit in my silence. As I did then, I will do now.  

(My parentheticals is where I get judgemental) (They were super emotional.) (Like to an unearned degree.) (Which is historically precedented.) (Not about you.) (I kind of want to text them every time I cry like HERE. HERE IS YOUR PROOF)

That’s always stayed with me. Was I not SAD enough? Am I a Monster? More than I already knew I was? Can I blame my Cultural Catholicism*? 

I really wish I could point them to tonight and let them know that grief is a SLOW BURN. We don’t live it in easy chunks. You get through this life as best you can and then get hit across the face with loss. 

For me, it was the quoted below. I read it on Facebook, of all motherfucking things, and as @beerburritowhiskey came back with a round, he had to pretend to ignore that I was crying (or he’s a terrible husband and didn’t notice.)

So, sure, I’m crying. I’ll be crying the rest of my days. I will be crying, or on the verge of, for the rest of the time I am here. I miss you mom. I miss you Kate. I miss you Greg. I miss you so deeply and profoundly it feels like my heart is going to burst from my chest and hitchhike somewhere warmer. Somewhere safer. Somewhere closer to you. 

I need more whiskey. 

When people we can't live without die, everyone likes to quote John Donne, "Death be not proud." Yeah yeah yeah, thank you for sharing. My father died of brain cancer when he was seven years younger than I am now. He was my closest person. I did not love it. My best friend died years ago, leaving behind an 18 month old daughter. She was my closest person. I did not love it, or agree to it, and just barely survived it.

My darling friend Ann Brebner passed away early Friday. (You were so incredibly generous to donate to the fund for her home-care. Your generosity has given me such huge abiding hope in Goodness and miracles. We were down to almost no money. She accidentally spent her life creating and directing plays, loving us crazily, laughing and listening to music, giving to charity, instead of investing.)

Maybe this passing seems less death-y, as she was 93. But believe me, she had done the dying part, the closing-up-shop part, the leaving-us part, just like everyone has to do. It's death 101 for everyone here on the incarnational side of things: we do it with no owner's manual (Death for Dummies?) , and at the end, alone. If I were God's West Coast representative, I would have a different system in place, i.e. less mysterioso Ouija board enigma. More grok-able My grandson stood nearby her at church as she sometimes painstakingly got out of our car. He always called her Ann Brevner, one word. "Hi, Annbrevner!" I told him Friday night that she had passed, and his mouth dropped open. "AnnBREVNER died?" he asked. Then, "I wonder what that's like? Dying?"

So I thought I would tell you what I know, because this thing, this aspect of reality, this weird scary aspect of life, can just wreck everything if you don't figure out at some point that it is what makes life so profound, meaningful, rich, complex, wild. If you try to outrun this existential truth, with manic achievement and people-pleasing and exotic distractions, it begins to argue a wasted life. Everyone we love--and I am just going to add, in a whisper, even our children and nieces and nephews--will die. They will no longer be here, on this side of eternity. We Christians see death as just being a fairly significant change of address, but still, our most cherished people will no longer be here, to have and to hold, or reach by phone.

This can kind of ruin everything. When my son was little, he asked if we would die at the exact same moment. When I said, No, probably not, he wept, and then said, "If I had known that, I wouldn't have agreed to be born."

Do you want to have instant meaning and incentive and almost heartbreaking appreciation in your life? Live, starting now--as if you have three months left. At some point, this will true. Tick tock.

But won't death be scary? Annbrevner's wasn't. Just weird. Her death, like every passing I have witnessed, was beautiful, gentle, sometimes hard and confusing, and completely doable. At some point, for almost everyone, it is like being in labor. Especially if, like me, dilated 7 centimeters after 24 hours of labor, you realized you didn't like children. But in both cases, birth and death, something beautiful is coming. Ram Dass said death would be like FINALLY getting to take off the too-small shoes we had been wearing our entire lives. Think of that. Getting to rub those sore arches and wiggle those baby toes, after all these year feeling cramped, like Chinese foot bound women, tiptoeing to minimize the pain.

But back to my grandson's question, of what dying will be like, and why, I don't think you need to be afraid:

So many people will surround you, your dearest family and friends, both the quick and the death--Ann's father, who died fifty years ago was with her; her son who died last year was with her. And we were with her, encouraging and allowing her to be real, to share her deepest thoughts and and fears about what was happening to her, and how annoying liFe (and we) could be. The most important you can do if someone is dying? Show up; listen; nod.

And maybe even more important, we shared with each other our worries, memories, sorrow, impatience, and anxiety about the process, how much more, and much sooner, we could have done this or that. We showed up, we listened to each other, we told others how much we hated everything, and how much we loved each other, we listened some more, we nodded, and put the kettle on for tea.

We let each other complain and not know what we were doing. We tried to remember what we DID know: that the great cosmic Something had always been there before. That the Divine It had brought us and our beloved ones through ghastly loss, disappointment, and failure, against all odds. That crying and grieving heal us, cleanse us, baptize us, moisturize us, water the seeds hidden deep in the ground at our feet.

Our pastor came to anoint her the day before she died, not knowing if Ann's home-going was an hour or a month away. Hospice was on hand to help with the pain. (If you know your person is dying, call Hospice. Once Hospice is on board, almost everything will sort itself out, I promise you--everything. Secret of life.

Every single person I have loved and lost had us around--their most beloved--and had Hospice, had the richest most astonishing love and sense of safety at the end. They had peace, like a river. Even if their death was sudden, Grace always bats last. They got to take off the tight shoes. They got their Get Out of Jail Free card.

And after they died, stopped breathing and grew cold, we were there, to tend to their bodies in the holy sacrament of bathing and dressing them. Don't rush any of this. Stay with the body so you can see that it no longer holds them, their life, spirit, soul, breath: now eternity does. Choose the perfect socks for those feet that carried them through their astonishing, hard, weird, precious lives.

Death? Be as proud as you want: bore me later, because Love is sovereign here. Life never ends. Joy comes in the morning. Glory hallelujah. And let it be so.

-Anne Lamott

*is a thing, @beerburritowhiskey