What was it brought you out here in the dark?No worries, no one (else) is dead, besides me, Cole and Jake and really I can pass for the living quite easily these days with enough lipgloss and my lowjacked frown.
Was it your only way of making your mark?
Did you get rid of all the voices in your head?
Do you now miss them and the things that they said?
Today is sort of okay. I am
I'm wearing my bulletproof thigh-high black stockings and my you've-done-it-now dress. I mean business. Well, I don't actually. Actually I mean ridiculousness and mayhem twenty-four hours a day, sometimes twenty-six and I'm thinking that this is going to be a fine slide right through into Thanksgiving.
Why? Because Ben will be on holidays at last. Finally taking a break because he's been getting comfortable with near-exhaustion and really Caleb rides him like a....oh, I had such a delightfully pornographic allegory to put there but I think I'll leave it off because my mom always reads my posts and then emails me small suggestions on how maybe I should write about happier things/times/moods and be less...perverted.
Then she tells me I look good in black.
And I should turn down the music.
And oh, Bridget, maybe you should eat a little more, you're looking so thin.
Yes Mom, check this out.
Who is that?
David Gilmour. Isn't he dreamy?
Yes, he is good looking, isn't he? He looks a little like Andrew.
No he doesn't, don't ruin it for me, mom.
How is Ben?
That's all anyone wants to know. How is Ben? Slayer of the darkness, husband of the cotton candy princess, patience of a saint, appetite of a sinner, biter of bunny-heads Benjamin.
He is delicious, as usual. Some things do not change, one of which is my lusty appetite for that man.
Luckily the larder is fully stocked.
Snort. (Sorry, mom.)
In any case, Ben will be home for two solid weeks to rest and the kids are in school and really right now we have no interest in going too far anymore or doing too much, we're exhausted and still living in fast-forward and majorly fucked up by the never-ending, always evolving dynamics of life here and everything it entails, including a commute that rivals the 'drive around the goddamn harbour' in Halifax that we've never missed for even a second, and we probably won't even get out of bed, save for trying a few new restaurants and maybe taking in a concert or two.
(Mom, come back after Thanksgiving to read, okay? I'm sure the only news for the remainder of the month will be x-rated.)
The rest of you carry on as you were, bunch of fucktards. And yes, I know I never wrote about the other night when Caleb showed up and Ben decided to get into it with him. Ever think there's a reason for that? Well there is, and there's also a reason for my steady stream of Lochlan-stories lately. Don't like it? Go read something else.
I don't want this anger, burning in me
It's something from which it's so hard to be free
And none of the tears we cry in sorrow or rage
Can make any difference, or turn back the page