christmas fog

Here I am at mom's computer. Alone. Whiskey in hand and body. Cigarette smoke floating like wispy ghosts. Everyone has gone to bed and sister has left. She showed up a few hours ago and appeared to be under the influence of something. To say sister is back to using the pharmaceuticals probably wouldn't be accurate. Even after all the legal woes and whatnot, I seriously doubt she has been clean and sober for an extended period of time.
Needless to say, Xmas evening went from bad to worse. I don't care to recite the slurred speech, the excessive eyeliner (which she usually wears when under the influence...I guess to try and hide the explosions in her eyeballs), or the incident that crashed the evening. I just sat in this very chair, sipping this whiskey, listening to the yelling, the accusations, the nonsense..."Well, now that Xmas is fucked, I guess I'll leave," sister said through tears and streaming eyeliner like fireworks falling from the sky. I remember shaking my head. 'Tis the fucking season.
All in all I'm okay. I just wish I would have known this shit was going to go down because then I would have been able to stay at home (two glorious hours away) and listen to the black circles on my turntable in my dark room. I would have been able to sleep in my own bed. Then I'd get up tomorrow afternoon and make the trek here, stay for a few hours and return to my safe apartment. But no. I'm stuck here. Outside this window, an eerie fog is crawling over the street lights, the stale snow, the dead blades of grass exposed...crawling...consuming.
I want to start something. Something of my own. I want to run away with Lady Sweet. "Let's just run, Baby. Get away from all this nonsense. They don't understand us, Baby. We can go out west and plant our feet in fertile soil and grow, extend, reach for that shining sky like fresh tree tops, swaying in a sweet spring breeze. I'll get a job in the city and..."
That's a line from a movie. That's a dream in my head. That's a blog entry. That's a song lyric that makes me swim in pain unashamed*. That isn't real...But why can't it be, goddamnit? Get away from all of this. Just get away...


mc

Interpol's "Obstacle 1"
"We can find new ways of living..."