melancholy and the infinite nadness

last night i was suffering terribly from a case of post-traumatic spa-party blogger-separation anxiety disorder. i was in the bath. naked. wet. alone. crying. wondering what happened to the happies and wishing upon a violent femmes star that they had stayed with me "just a little longer".

i had just returned from my holiday in melbourne, which was a mix tape of mainly happy hardcore with a few tracks of the blues. i met some beautiful souls, caught up with old friends, got my groove back, ate scrumptious food, spent a glorious day on a boat, a heavenly few days in the country, a merry few hours in a bookstore, a wonderful afternoon with a woman and her gorgeous son, had lots of imaginary sex in hallways, and maybe some not so imaginary sex where one (well two) should do so (in bed, der).

i also participated in two very different but both wholly jizz-inducing spa parties. the first a naked, champagne-guzzling romp with 4 gorgeous people and one VERY big toe. the second a more subdued slip-wearing, red-wine sipping spa party with only one other person and a dvd player full-o-buffy.

on the flipside however i spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself and even more time mourning the poor innocent souls in asia who were suddenly and without warning sacrificed to the sea, their bodies like offerings to the weather gods*.

and so there i sat last night, submerged in water, glass of red in hand, cowboy junkies on repeat in the stereo, crying. filling the bath with my melancholy tears and cursing my mind for not having an 'off' button.

i cried for new friends. i cried for broken bonds. i cried for kindness. i cried for heartache. i cried for earthquakes. i cried for tidal waves. i cried for babies. i cried for newlyweds. i cried for hot pink signs. i cried for hail storms. i cried for head injuries. i cried for boat cruises. i cried for dress-ups. i cried for new books. i cried for bloody maries. i cried for monopoly. i cried for spa parties. i cried for cheese. i cried for wine. i cried for cute dogs. i cried for guns. i cried for book clubs. i cried for your wedding night. i cried for bad jokes. i cried for great puns. i cried for doctors. i cried for nurses. i cried for bolognaise. i cried for 2 year olds. i cried for new dresses. i cried for emails. i cried for text messages. i cried for gourmet country salami. i cried for 30 phonecalls. i cried for blind hope. i cried for me. i cried for you. i cried for them. i cried for crying...

oh for fucks sake i'm crying again now. stupid cancerian pms-ing over-sensitive head.

back to happy snarky posting as soon as i find a new mix tape. and a better metaphor.

until then i'll leave you with a joke from genny b so the endnote to this post is more of the eye-rolling rather than the wrist-slitting kinda sad:

why did the oyster leave the dance party?

because he pulled a mussel.




*it may be a moot point by now, and you're probably sick of hearing it, but please, donate to a tsunami relief fund. even $5 can go further than you think.