Spring is here again and I couldn’t be happier. No, the weather hasn’t gotten any better and my hackle is still chapped, but the light of my life has returned to my eye—and my barn. Our barn. Monica and I are back together. She’s been back for a month but we wanted to keep a low profile as we worked everything out, the personal and the practical, like getting vaccines and antibiotics for all the weird designer diseases she picked up while “on duty.” I’m still not entirely sure what it was she was doing on “the continent” (which one?), but I don’t care. I really don’t care.
The sun’s shining and I’m in love, and though my claws are cracked, I sing the body electric and soar like a god among birds. I am Mecca, alpha and omega. And in my mind I am everyone. I need to get this out of my system, this relentless, manic joy—I sound too much like Bennington, my idiot whore cousin. Such a starfucker. Monica and I have cut him out of our lives for good I think. I know, we’ve said it before, and honestly we should’ve done it when he got me sent to Guantanamo Bay nearly three years ago, but breaking up our marriage? Sorry, no. Boy bye.
I had to spill that tea. Now I’m all smiles. I swear I saw a flower winking at me this morning, and while cognitive distortions of my own self are common, recently I was interpreting them all very negatively, as if the universe were out to get me and psychologically crucify me for sundry past crimes. I’ve never committed a misdemeanor but I have lied—just like most people. I like going out to pick grapes with my wife while she sings and I claw the dirt to keep a beat. We’re a steady rhythm moving through this ferocious circus called Life. We move in sync, a double helix of DNA forever fused but always moving, exchanging. We move through time on golden saucers and fly high above the rest of the world. No comedown, no limit.
We’ve been getting really into techno lately, all kinds of electronic music: deep house, EBM, harsh noise. We’re going down to New York for a 24-hour “drone party”—apparently one of Monica’s former “coworkers” is performing. I’m curious to meet them, as I know next to nothing about whatever she was up to when she was away. I was all in my own head, painting paranoid pictures on the wall, moving boxes and rearranging furniture like some deranged speedfreak. I’m sober but I felt like I was going insane every day that she wasn’t by my side. No matter: today is the greatest day I have ever known with the most beautiful girl in the world. Ohhh, giiiiirrrrrrrr-rrrrrllllll (tssssssssssssssss…)
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