This weekend I got to laugh.  Hold my gut laugh.  It’s been a while.  I think that the act of smiling stimulates something in the brain…a scientific fact!  I’m hoping it has the same effect as crying. When you’re going through shit it’s easy to get stuck in the mire.  You become prone to spontaneous crying and raging.  People have been telling me I’m yelling alot, more than usual. Granted, there are those in my life deserving of my rage, but I seem to be pissing everyone off and I can’t stop myself. What if laughter works the same way? Instead of raging I break into spontaneous hysterics – laugh at the absurdity of it all.  Who the fuck wants to hear my raging anyway? I sound like a crazy person. I say things that are better left to myself. I say things that dance around my insecurities. It’s ugly.  It’s time to get pretty – laughter is pretty – except when you pee your pants or shoot food out of your nose. Smiles let others see your soul.  Rage pushes people away. It’s time to let people see me again, but don’t piss me off.

I got the stank out.  You know, it’s like when you smell shit or vomit up close and you smell it the rest of the day even though you’re not anywhere close to shit or vomit.  The stank that lingers, gets in your hair, on your clothes, seeps into your pores. It’s gone. It will no longer taint my taste buds. It will no longer waft into my dreams. It will no longer steal my fire. Fuck that.

I guess in love it really doesn’t matter who is telling the truth.  Love is love and when you feel it and it is taken away, it hurts.  And then the war of hearts ensues and nothing ever is resolved when they fight to hold on to what is slipping away. The blaming commences, the daggers are thrown, anger surfaces and holds on. No one ever wins in the war of hearts unless they come back to be one.  Sometimes that is possible I suppose, but most of the time the war has seized the hearts, damaged them with no chance of repair, forever wounded from the battle. The truth becomes irrelevant.  The scars forever remain fresh.

I envy people who don’t allow harsh realities into their lives. They walk around purposely oblivious to difficult situations and people. They don’t step on cracks or ask too many questions. They rather not know. Everything is great and when it’s slightly not great it’s all OK.  No worries. Buck up. Charge on.

But I have to wonder, where does it all go? Shit goes on. People in our lives need us and sometimes that shit is hard. Like the ostrich (or emu, flamingo?) they bury their head in the sand while the predator approaches.  Like that bird they can’t see it, so in their mind it doesn’t exist. Like that bird the predator still consumes them.

Joanne knows.

I feel very Brooklyn right now.  Whenever I’m faced with a crisis or tough times I go back. Back to what I know is true. Back to even though shit is fucked up, you can count on your people. People who got your back, would slay a dragon for you or just kick ass when appropriate.