Fuck, that's far too much enthusiasm.
It's ok to be enthusiastic, if it wasn't for my enthusiasm I know that I would have topped myself several decades ago.
So what?
What's got me going woohoohoohoohoohoohoo ad infinitum?
My baby. My unique child, who fell from the stars nearly 22 years ago..straight into my lucky arms on 11/08/97
I won't forget it. Millions of hours (exaggeration) in labour, trying to keep my legs closed so that she did not land on the birthday's of so many of my relatives and friends (I know a lot of Leo's...in fact my whole life has been over-saturated with Leo people..we dig each others groove)....said in Keith Richard's voice, man. Similar energy.
I won't forget. Giving birth. Ok. How can I describe what it's like? It's so fucking insanely painful that nobody tells you in advance. The body has no memory of physical pain. How fucking clever nature...or nobody would reproduce. No women would birth and no man would fight in war.
The human being, that's us...kinda..souls in a body, has no memory for physical pain and only has memory for emotional pain. Surprised? Nope.
Lucky for me...it was emotionally painful. I did not forget the experience. The midwife cut a vein..after I pleaded for an episiotomy (I was only doing gas and air...no drugs...please...could adversely affect my precious girl) Suddenly, I was in the movie, 'The Exorcist', blood spattered all over the walls. I thought I was going to die. The whole experience and the blood transfusion, that followed and went wrong, was emotionally traumatic.
She called in the fucking ventouse nurse. He was half asleep. He wanted to put a hoover- like contraption over her head and suck her out. Yeah, that's really natural. I asked him to fuck off, several times. I think he was so scared that he left the room quickly. That was why I asked to be cut. Episiotomy.
Her father (RIP) had to put his thumb in the dam...literally to stop the blood bursting out, and I asked my midwife to sew me up....seriously, as if her life depended on it. Expletives, that I use everyday....imagine them in childbirth. I watched over those stitches with a super-spy-glass.Yes. A scary bitch. I was.
No one talks about the shit side of childbirth....apart from me. Let's talk about the shit side...it's real.
Those women, who'd do really well in Russia - popping out sprogs as if they are laying an egg - well, yeah (go back to Russia where you'd be celebrated for popping them out, you'd probably get awards for it) Who are these women? Loads of kids, one after another after another ... Weird. One is plenty, or two at an absolute push ('scuse inadvertent pun) if you want any more, adopt some. Do you even care about your vagina? Do yo have any self-respect..?
I'm just having a laugh, at the expense of women in childbirth (which includes me)...have as many as you fucking well want. I just know I'm not designed that way.
That midwife must have been scared for her life. My s*** side came out...and that side of me....I scare myself. She did well.
I took her a large bouquet, a few days after I was released (for good behaviour) I remember her name, Jennifer. I like that name...because it's a bit weird as well as pretty.
Only child. My child. Why would a person put themselves through that again...unless they were a sadist?
So, after huge digression, my baby...my child (amazed, still that I have a child who is nearly 22) has just handed in her finals for her Design degree at Kingston..
She called me to say that she had done so. We Face-Timed. She was packing to visit and I was just opening some wine and rolling a very mild joint (they are super mild, like tiny girl strength). We got a lot of mutual admiration. Leo's and me...always in mutual admiration. Sure, Ophiuchus a bit eccentric, weird..where Leo's are more straight...but the fun we can have...off the scale.
Leo's=creative. Ophiuchus=creative. Workers=us both.
I dig my daughter, she's brilliant. I love her. She's something. Not just beautiful. She's sexy, street, clever, bright, hardworking and independent.... with a fuck-off dry sense of humour. I would worship the ground that she walks on and carry her crown when her head is tired...but, fuck that. I got my own one to deal with. I'm down for her...always. She's nearly 22. Shout out to Lissy. 100%
Forgive me, in advance, if I cry at your graduation...you know what I'm like.
Or if I start to use expletives, during the most inappropriate moments...you know what I'm like...I'm your mother and it is my duty to embarrass you.... (just kidding) who know's if I'm being funny or real? I don't actually care what anyone thinks. Their opinion has absolutely nothing to do with me. I am who I am.
What's my plan for c'est soir? A Saturday night wine or three, a little bit of Louis CK, acoustic guitar, some herbal chill and eventually to bed. Last night I was asked out for a drink. Had to decline. Enjoy it more here, in my space. I was out and about all day. WTF would I want to go to a bar to do what I can do here, with more fun? Chez moi and some comedy hilarity and music on tap? I expect I will allow my insomnia to have Saturday night out at home (as opposed to usual pill-popping, for a straight 7 hours sleep)
I am concluded that Louis CK is the most hilarious current comedian, despite his fall from media grace. I love him.
Now I know that many people would argue that it is not acceptable to compliment yourself, or images of yourself...but, since I don't care about what is acceptable..I will comment on the above photograph - remembering that I don't actually care about opinions, they have nothing to do with me)
That photo, to me, is beautiful. Nothing more, nothing less. Beautiful.
And do you know? When I look at myself in the mirror, at 53...I see beauty...lines, wrinkles, silvery hair, scars...a permanent smile. I see beauty. Truth. 'Beauty is truth and truth is beauty'..and that's all you need to know. My cross to bear. Thank you.
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