- Start to lose strength or momentum: "her smile faltered"; "his faltering career".
- Speak or move in a hesitant or unsteady manner.
humor me another one
and i'll taunt you just in fun
for the jester is strongest
when detached for the longest
and clowns forever dance around
when memory is lost
and recollection of anger never found
mis·step
Noun
- A clumsy or badly judged step: "one misstep could be fatal".
- A mistake or blunder.
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Synonyms
false step - faux pas - mistake - error - gaffe - trip
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kindly enjoy this photo with me
and picture quaintness as bare legged knees
and 60s hair teased
and girls of sixteen
and let bottles drop
and bottoms plop
and be silly and daring -
not sad and uncaring
and live in an instant, carefree.
I find myself tonight at bloggers doorstep, peering out and peeking in. The writers instinct, if faint, is still recognizable. It sits within me like a beacon summoning me Home. Home to the depths of whoever this person is that I am. Home, not to who I have been, or who I hope to become, but Home to who I am. These masks I wear are falling to the floor one by one, and under every single face, is this seething unrelenting anger that is born of...what? That is born of the disappointment that I have been wrong. I have been wrong? Could it be that simple?
I haven't had a sip of alcohol in 8 days. I haven't indulged in any mood altering substances or lit a cigarette. I am, it seems, exploring. I am exploring... sobriety. Feelings. Self indulgence of another kind. I am indulging in the great "share." I am sharing, with you, myself. For. Some. Reason.
The desire to be seen, known, observed, recognized is pretty normal I'd say. For those of us who grew up missing that key element, a father's expressed love, this need for recognition and just plain being noticed, for anything, can be obsessive. So, I walk this line. I want to desperately partake in this grand information, exhibitionistic, anything goes and anything can show society we live in, and yet I do know that I don't always know how much is too much.
One of the most interesting things about not drinking for...gasp, a week... is that I have discovered that while alcohol may make me say or do some pretty embarrassing things, and may make me a little more interested in you at a party the I probably should be (or otherwise would be), one of the more interesting things I have discovered is that NOT drinking causes me to get too personal, be too talkative, and say and do some pretty embarrassing things.
Case in point: This week we attended a very nice, very special musical soiree held at the downtown loft of a spanish composer. The wonderful band, Spanish Brass Luur Metals, was making some truly beautiful noise.
It was a Wednesday. We loved it. We bought the CD.
Everyone that night, except me, was drinking wine or champagne. This Wednesday drinking soiree is how we roll around here, and if you just take a second to think about that, you may be able to understand, at least in part, the reason I may have developed a problem. I mean, it was a Wednesday. In January. People are supposed to be cleansing January, aren't they?
At any rate, I remember bumping into a girl at the bathroom door. She was coming out, I was going in. She simply said, "Oh, I hope you haven't been waiting long." I then responded to her very simple statement with a three minute comedy improv about how i hadn't, how i had just walked up, what must she have been doing in there to think i was waiting so long, and that when I went in there, I hoped I might have as good a time as herself. Or something like that. When I closed the door, a thought flashed through my head, "Oh dear, I must be feeling a little tipsy." Then I remembered.
Sober as the day is long.
Ug. What could be so wrong with me that I say such things to a perfect stranger..with NO GOOD EXCUSE for saying them?? I then thought, "Time to chill out here with some wine." Then I remembered...again.
Sigh.
This little example is probably a cute diversion created to distract you, and myself, mostly, from the truly upsetting part of what is happening inside of me. The anger. The anger!!! Argh!!!!
I imagine any posts to follow, if I don't pull this entire exercise in public futility offline, will be about that. Because it seems, most things in my life are either about that anger, or at the least, intensely affected by it.
Oh dear. The clown really is he saddest person in the room.
Well, in this case, obviously, also the sexiest.
Till next time,
Sayonara, Suckers.
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