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Tuesday, September 11 Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
This rant seems painfully ironic and eerie but I think maybe I'll just leave it here as a testimony to who I was that morning before the world changed. This site began as a light airy thing, but moments after I posted this, I and this site were forever changed. Just reading my post the very next day in comparison is reason enough to leave this up. Just thought you should know.
Silence. A lot of folks would sell their left kishka (that basically means any internal organ below the belly button) to get out of town and find a nice quiet place to chill out. Aaaaaah yes! It all sounds so lovely; charming old bed and breakfasts in the country, lovely cottages on the sea and of course, that perfect mountain cabin for skiing, hunting and illicit affairs with postal workers. Yes. I love, love, love it all. Love, that is, until the lights go out and I'm left nestled inside a black wall of silence that feels like a thousand fat bankers sitting on me. Interesting visual, I know, and yes, I do promise to bring that up in my next session. So I do what any downtown girl would do, I turn on the A/C regardless of how cold it is, put on some tunes, crack the window to let in a little night noise and whisper over and over and over again to myself, "All work and no play makes Jill a very dull girl." I remember the first and last time I rented a house in the country. It seemed so perfectly picturesque; the running creak that babbled its way down a natural waterfall into a shady pond filled with fallen leaves, the tall trees circling the house like a protective mother. But once the sun slid down its chimney and the last glass of wine was sipped, everything changed. Mosquitoes from hell sent us screaming into the house covered in war wounds. The old creaky stairs that had felt so quaint hours ago became a death trap waiting to break our ankles. And as for those protective trees ... well, they were still motherly, but the mother in question was Joan Crawford on a very, very, very bad day. The Mommy Dearest forest formed a dark circle that locked us in, yet seemed to keep nothing of the mysterious wooded night out. Then the quiet started. Well not quiet so much as the sound of total nothing through which the screeching bugs, and howling demons of the void could voice their death cries. "Screeeeee!! (We're coming to get you!)" "Waaaaaoooooo Haaaaooooooo! (Your ass is mine)!" I spent the night huddled up in bed with my significant other (hmmm, this Why the flashlight? Hey! If something's coming to get me, I'm damn well gonna see its face!! As for the phone, well ... as in all my impending-demise fantasies, I always have time to make a few guilt calls just before death takes me. "Hi. It's Rossi. Remember me? Yes, well you made my life pretty miserable in the sixth grade. Just because my feet were a size 9 was no reason to call me Big Foot! Just wanted to drop you a quick call to say I'm dying. Don't feel too bad about how you ruined my childhood, because I've heard I get a chance to come back and haunt you. So I guess I should say ... see ya real soon! Anyway, I'm just rattling ... so I'll let you go." Hehehehehhehe. Aaaahh well. I'm not dying today, and there's a lovely thunderstorm banging around outside. I can hear children screeching as they run from the rain, taxi drivers cursing, bolts of lighting vibrating against the buildings like a sledgehammer and the panoramic stereo sound of a dozen car alarms going off at the same time. Yawn! I think I'll just take a li'l nap. So peaceful! Sooo very peaceful.
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