Helping of Haggis

The state is simply offal: Jesus stole my hag.

I've had this happen before and I have no idea why I didn't think it would or at least could happen again. It seems that the Lord Jesus Christ, given that he has little else to do, found it necessary to disembowel my support system, removing the heart of it to boil in a casing of my own skin.

Melodramatic? Perhaps. It certainly doesn't feel melodramatic - it just feels empty and jumpy. Happy day. It wasn't enough that I've had to deal with this bullshit since birth, it has to recur and recur. I'm totally down with people finding their own way... but Jesus Christ.

So, I'm left again to try and bind something together out of scraps. To scrape enough of what's left and try to form it into a family, a structure, a feeling that there is something to just keep me from free falling. Maybe it isn't really even necessary - this thing we convince ourselves that we need. There a about a gazillion people who function completely on their own. Here is the best I can offer myself: depend on no one. No one is going to help you emotionally, no one is going to support you financially, no one is going to chop down any brush to clear your path even a little bit. You are on your own.

The good thing, however, is that I'm pretty good at doing all of that stuff for myself. I don't always like it, but I am responsible for my own being and for C-Dog. That's it. R is really on his own in the end, so are the friends that I've tried to fashion into a family, so is everyone. They can create their own shit and I will create mine.

It would be so comforting though, to know that there are people you can call in the middle of the night, people who will co-create traditions with you, someone who could loan you $100 bucks. But there isn't, there hasn't been, and there will not be.

So Jesus, take this hag and the hags before her and the parents and the siblings and the rest. They are yours. It's a "gotcha" for me - but know that I would fuck you in the hand hole if I got the chance.

And so, bye to the hag, bye to the silliness of once again thinking there was something solidly architectural about my surroundings. If I can make something creative and decent out of the innards and scrapings that are left, I will.

And so it goes.