Tuesday, July 17, 2007

The Wedding That Wasn't.

He promised last night while we were going to bed that we'd try again today. It's not the same, I said, to try again today, because the day that mattered was gone. That's the kind of thinking that will make me have a long life full of misery.

I dreamed last night that my favorite kitty, Fatso The Wonder Kitty, was eaten by an alligator. It was awful. I'd set the kitty outside so he could smell the grass, and suddenly, a huge alligator emerged from the mud in the corner of the yard and ate him, viciously.

I dreamed I set something that is special to me, something injured and vulnerable, in a place to make it open to the world, and a horrible hidden beast came and attacked it.

He asked me if I'd be very upset if he didn't come with me to Kathryn's wedding. I said, "Yes." I will be very upset if he doesn't come with me. I don't want to go to the wedding alone. I want to stay in a hotel with him and go in the car with him and meet people and show him off. I want to have a reason to imagine that last night didn't count as our anniversary celebration, and I want something to look forward to doing together.

I'm in no mood for work today. I'd like to read poetry instead. I'd like to lie on the couch and read poetry.

Usually, I'm very happy with our small, silly wedding. His family came and a few friends. We did it on a Sunday, so instead of going to the court house, you go to the jail. We got married in jail! I wore a white shirt and jeans. He wore a nice shirt and jeans. His head was shaved. When I look at the picture I have of us on that day, I look very happy and pretty. He looks much bigger than he looks now. His sister made us a cake, like a real wedding cake with a topper. She also brought me flowers. She insisted on making the occasion a little more real and serious than we were making it.

Today, I'm feeling a little sad that we didn't have a real wedding. I'm sad because we didn't have a very nice anniversary. I'm just fucking sad. Maybe I'll go to the meeting tonight. I don't really like the Tuesday night meeting...not for any particular reason other than that it gets out late and the room is very bright and a few people who I really like don't often go to that one. But a few people who I really like DO often go to that one, and maybe it would be nice to go, to hear all the things I need to hear.

I don't even really feel like talking, though...and normally I'm all chock-full of things to say. Today might be a good day to just listen.

Or, it might be a good day to sit on my fucking couch and read Rilke until my eyeballs bleed.

7 comments:

just another addict said...

Go to that meeting and talk to those you do like.
Peace,
Scout

sKILLz said...

Its all good you can have another wedding if you want. Something thats more like your typical wedding.
Go to the meeting if you want, if not then stay home and relax.

Meagan said...

Rilke for everybody...



Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Look, how tiny down there,

look: the last village of words and, higher,

(but how tiny) still one last

farmhouse of feeling. Can you see it?

Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Stoneground

under your hands. Even here, though,

something can bloom; on a silent cliff-edge

an unknowing plant blooms, singing, into the air.

But the one who knows? Ah, he began to know

and is quiet now, exposed on the cliffs of the heart.

While, with their full awareness,

many sure-footed mountain animals pass

or linger. And the great sheltered birds flies, slowly

circling, around the peak's pure denial.-But

without a shelter, here on the cliffs of the heart...

longvowels said...

For one human being to love another; that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation.

Rainer Maria Rilke

One Wacky Mom said...

Oooh Junky's wife...I too felt like that once a long time ago in another life! Different chapter. One that I will write about soon. I think I was about your age. I imagine you're pretty young. Back then I was around 19 and foolish. I thought I knew what love was. I didn't have a clue.
And I got my heart stomped all over. Somebody could have just broken me into pieces back then. They eventually did. I took me until I was almost 22 years old to wake up and get a life. And I swore no one would ever rip my heart out again.

Course that's not good either. But it made me stronger...and it made me who I am and for that I am so very grateful.

Pain is so hard...yet without it we don't experience life. I'm so sorry because I can feel every single bit of your hurt. You don't even yet know your own strength...

Give it time...you will find strength that you did not know you are capable of possesing and when you do...it will blow you away!

This I know.

Mary P Jones (MPJ) said...

We both had shitty dreams last night, eh, my blogging soulmate? I'm back from yoga and feeling better. Hope you're back from your meeting and feeling the same.

Ej. said...

I'm sorry.