Tuesday, August 2, 2011

The hell?

Okay, tonight's been interesting so far.
I was fiddling with a few things in Lis's studio room/den, considering she's been in there a lot recently and hasn't cleaned up, when there's this crash in the living room.
As she said, someone threw a cinder block through the window, and left some kind of splotch of blood or something in the yard.
So what does Lis do?
She takes the cinder block out back, stalks to the edge of the woods and throws it as far under the trees as she can, saying a few things that I think she would rather I not repeat while she did so.
She then came outside, ran an extension cord out there, set up a CD player on a chair, and is now blasting the woods with trashy pop music.
The fuck.
... What crack are you on, Elisa?
I'm really not sure what to think
She's painting again, now that she found her mom's old gun.

I know she was talking to Elaine about me.
Hi, Miss Elaine, if you're reading this.
Not many people are, which is probably for the best, anyway.
After a few discussions, I think we figured out why the whole cutting thing started up.
It's something I have control over.
Because I sure as hell don't have control over the weirdness that's been going on.
Which is interesting, probably.
Following that logic, I'm surprised that there aren't more reports of Runners with eating disorders or something.
Though, you have to be able to eat, first.
Or you have to be kind of stupid.
Which I think is the reason that makes more sense.
Though you do hear of those who turn to drugs or other addictions to take off the edge.
I know it's stupid, but even when I try not to do it, I find myself picking at the older ones when I'm not paying attention.
It does help to keep things from disappearing, though.


1 comment:

  1. Just because they don't write about it in the blogs, doesn't mean it doesn't happen. It does, so often. People use whatever they can to self-medicate, whether it be alcohol, disorders, or some other form of self destruction.

    I wish I'd been around back then. Maybe.. no, there's no point in saying that now.