Straight No Chaser

Xenophonic Blame Game

having just called in sick at work, i now have a whole day ahead of me, totally free. with which i will almost certainly do nothing productive, aside from moping and dwelling and rehashing everything that happened yesterday, which was really, really bad.

title root: strange voice, obviously. which is how i am explaining it to myself. those howlers i mentioned earlier, they made me do it. i'm not capable of hurting anybody by myself, nor would i except under extreme duress, like the agonizing pressure of being prodded by a force that doesn't give a fuck about me. or so i'd like think, except that i'm not schizophrenic, meaning that theory doesn't hold water.

i want to go back in time. i want to talk to my mother, who would take my side by necessity, but who would say i'd been stupid, careless and hypocritical. i called her office, this morning, promising myself that if she answered by the second ring, i'd tell her. not only didn't she (even though i gave her till the third, then the fourth, then the fifth), she also had up one of her specialized voicemail messages--"hello, this recording is for the friday of april, i'll be in meetings all day and unable to access my messages. if your issue is of an emergency concern, please contact my executive assistant..."

which i actually thought about doing, because reisa is really nice, and she probably would have found a way to get ahold of mommy for me. but then she'd have called me back, and i'd have told her, and she'd have said you pulled me out of a meeting in manhattan to tell me you're a bad person and a complete fuckup? and then i'd have been twice guilty. so, no.

it's already been a long day, and it's only noon. if i hadn't slept three and a half hours last night, i'd climb back into bed, right now, and try to sleep away as much of the day as i possibly could before evening. tonight is a marcus night and i want, rather desperately, to be awake, to be held. now, now, now. this next however many hours will, be, useless.