Party At Their Place

I’m at a party. And I shouldn’t be.

I have a list to write off for this blog. First of all it says – sick. I am. I have hayfever or something and my head hurts, my sinuses are blocked and this thing threatens to go on for days. Right through my tests on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. I felt frigging terrible last night and thought I wouldn’t be here. There is a pile of tissues next to me that threatens to topple on to my mouse pad. This is a sickness that I just have to wait out. I am prepared and at terms with that.

Second – there will not be singing lessons as a result of this. I am not upset at all. I couldn’t practice on the weekend because of The Sickness anyway.

We all know how I am feeling about them anyway. Maybe I can just ambush her after school and just talk, with my much depleted voice.

I am blocked in more ways than one. I managed to paralyse myself with some Amanda-brand mind boggle, thanks to the internet connection here and YouTube. I had something, it thought I would have filled the page by now. And it just left me.

Maybe when I can breathe.

Back to “Amanda Palmer "Guitar Hero" Live From Sxip's Hour of Charm” on YouTube.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit. She can be fucking intimidating and beautiful can’t she?

Why am I back to this? I need to clean this blog up. I need to get home. It’s late. I should sleep. Where is everyone?

I did this frigging insane thing today when I was getting ready to go here.

If I did this (parties) more often (ever) then it wouldn’t have been so hard. I had boxed up my computer and cooked myself a full dinner to sustain my much allergic self on at someone else’s house. I had prepared for total and utter disappointment.

Then, this morning after rushing around for 2 hours, which could have been simply getting ready for three if I hadn’t gone back to bed. I was in a total state, I couldn’t remember half the things I needed. Food, bed stuff, clothes, the many components of my computer, toiletries, make up, eat breakfast, vitamins, pick clothes, get dressed, put it all in the car, leave on time… half an hour late… then in an effort to put ice with my food to keep it cool on the way, the drink bottle which was frozen solid, feel into the sink – completely obliterating one of our best and last drinking glasses in the house. It was the last straw. My mother had been irate all week, and you wouldn’t believe what sort of emotional torment I had to go through just to get her to let me go to what she viewed as a thoroughly suspect party. And I broke this glass. Poetically. I started crying. Just a little sob. Just in memory of the unfortunateness. She asked me why I was crying. In not such tactful direct words. The whole thing just came down on me. The stress, the sickness, my friends, my life, all the stuff I hadn’t done, what I’d forgotten, her angry with me, the fact that I just wanted to GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WHOLE SITUATION and I couldn’t, after all that I went through now I was stuck with something I didn’t want… the parallels to the rest of my life……… (have I captured the sheer gravity of the moment?)

And I screamed. No, not screamed. There is not a word for this thing, not unless you have done it.

Like a little kid throwing a tantrum, like that total primal lack of control, an exorcism-like, mental breakdown, crying shriek. That’s what it was. It tore the walls up and my throat worse. Any living thing that heard it was still for about three seconds.

And then it was all over for me.

It over came me, the fact that this situation had provoked that utterly evil reaction from me made it worse. Then the all-pervasive wheezing sulking pathetic crying started.

As I picked up the last of my forgotten things, wandered around aimlessly, brushed my teeth, packed the car, and ate my breakfast it continued, almost all the way there.

It was mental. In a way that would make anyone cautious.

Not to freak anyone out or anything. I was already looking at it with a fond psychoanalytical distance. Terribly cathartic. They often make people scream like that for therapy.

But I’m fine now and I think I can get down to explaining the usual crap and the thing about this video.

She was on fire that night, honestly. Watch.

I’m writing a song. That’s what I’m doing, I can feel it. Now, this is the moment. Here you are, here I am, someone get me some fucking paper! I’m back!

The song is the perfect fluid expression of the right now. It is here and it’s going here when it’s finished. This is electric, honestly. Distilled inspiration and creativity, a perfect bottled memorable moment…

☆Anika☆