‘Another fortnight lost in America’
I wonder how Taylor Swift sits down to write, knowing people are out there who are intentionally going to twist it and claim she’s worshipping satan and preparing to have his baby.
Of course, her (presumed) future father in law retweeted that very claim and laughed at it. So, at least she has that.
I’m going on two solid weeks with no sleep. Have a new stalker here at the hacienda. This one rides a bike and does circles around me and insults me while I feed cats. Like, childish, bitchy insults.
She has quite the butterface. Like, I’d wish that she drove headfirst into the Brightline that runs 100 yards from here, but she looks like she already did.
I haven’t insulted her. I simply laugh at her as she films me and threatens me. Like, Jesus Christ, did the world’s most deplorable people all decide to live here all at once?
I often think of moving. I have dreamed of it for like four years. But who would take care of the cats?
I got to rewatching an old episode of 9-1-1. At the end of S1 Ep 9, Abby’s mother passes away from a pulmonary embolism. On top of all her other fucking problems.
The thing is, Abby had taken care of her for ages. Everyone said her mom held her back. But Abby, now alone, declares (in my words) “The thing everyone said was holding you back turns out to be what was holding you together all along.”
I felt that. I have this nitwit neighbor (shocker) who’s a pastor. And he’s always said maybe I could have a real life if I were alone.
I’m like well that’s un-fucking-pastorly, eh?
Hilariously, this dipshit has a big fat pro-life license plate. And I park next to him with my big holographic hanger sticker that says “Never Again.”
I also have a holographic “This Girl Loves Ducks” sticker because this fucker kicks every duck he sees on the way to the pool every evening.
Jesus Christ, this fucking PLACE.
Anyway I’ve told him numerous times to sit and spin. Like, you don’t get to give me your observations on what you think is my life.
“YOU WOULDN’T LAST AN HOUR IN THE ASYLUM WHERE THEY RAISED ME.”
Ahem.
Anyway, in S1 Ep 10, Abby skips town and goes to Ireland, where her mother always wanted to go.
They made it lame. Like, she had no point to her life now, and she lost her identity a long time before that. So why wouldn’t she burn down her life and do something different.
I often dream of doing this. Not the whole having no purpose in life. But (third Taylor Swift reference incoming) “they’re burning all the witches even if you aren’t one. So light me up, light me up.”
What I dream of is going somewhere, changing my name and living out my days.
I don’t know where “somewhere” is. I’d miss all the outside kiddos. And I’m not insane enough to think someone would take over for me.
But a lot of these kids were here many years before I was. So, maybe there’s a chance that someone else would stand up to all these ignorant assholes and do what’s right.
The pastor is selling his place. I am worried we’ll get someone even worse. And I’ll lose even more sleep since I get harassed at 6 a.m. and need to, what, get up earlier now?
Anyway, in addition to missing my concert last week, tomorrow is my cousin’s celebration of life in Pittsburgh. I was going to fly up but I gots a doctor’s appointment to deal with. On a Saturday.
I feel bad that my cousin won’t have anyone from her mom’s side of the family other than her sister. But, that’s more than enough.
I still feel bad I didn’t see my cousin’s mom when I was up there last. But even my cousin says, we didn’t know. We knew she wasn’t great but who knew she’d get like one chemo treatment the next week be sent straight to hospice in my cousin’s house.
I’ve talked about how Larry went to JFK, got one cancer treatment, and pretty much just up and died. Same thing happened with Elaine, but she was at a much better facility. And my cousin’s a doctor.
But I was just talking to another guy I met, who calls me Goddess. (As one should.) He told me his best friend was 41 a decade ago. His best friend found a lump in his chest and went to JFK.
Again, one chemo appointment, and he was dead the next day.
What the fuck is up with JFK, and do they only take the good ones out or what?
In any event, I have these nasty ass people here who, let me quote this bitch, she called me ignorant and said if I find the cats so cute, I look dirty and I should take them in my dirty house. She’s called me a loser and trash and I don’t know what else. I simply say, “What a lady you are!”
Anyway, literally I am struggling mentally and physically to get from one day to the next, and this heifer feels it’s her birthright to ruin that one good thing. Not just for me. For the cats.
What really hurts is all they want is to be petted and loved. I throw food at them lightning-fast and run so people don’t see me and run the kiddos’ meals. Because when I am seen, it’s yelling and stomping through meals and not from by/from me.
The cats seem so sad that I barely look at them. Sometimes one or two will even follow me. I will offer more food if I have it, and sometimes they take it but more often, they turn around and hide.
They know they aren’t wanted here. They sometimes don’t even want what I have to offer in general. Like, lady, why even bother, you know?
Anyway, like Taylor sings, “Another fortnight lost in America.” Another night of sleep lost. Probably another morning the cats don’t get food or love or both.
But I’ll keep trying.
“At least I’m trying.” (Taylor reference #4.)