One glimpses here the naked,
intricate actuality of the complexity
of experience that those of us who do not deny
what we cannot explain
or even describe
R.D. Laing, Self and Others
this is odd:
Temporarily Doris Day Personality Disorder.
Webaster's recklessness entirely at fault, huh.
It all started 2 weeks ago when he had this to say about troublewaits world fixing template:
que sera sera
Next day i am in shopping mall, loading up on pastels.
Whoever was on television that night became the mom see, so i'm eight years old- yikes, 7 day teevee marathon, Doris Day around the clock, whoever was on the television, see, she became my mom.
Dr. Phil would prolly call this one of life's defining moments, he is a genius, retarded, no?
i call it the luckiest fuckin break of my entire childhood, imagine the possibilities (Lassie comes to mind).
So i'm at Barton Creek Mall, lookin for clamdiggers, laughin hysterically b/c i know what's goin on, i'm 44, the patterns repeat, same old quicksand potholes, uh-oh, stuck, afraid to give her up i guess, what if Bette Davis takes her place, now who's unlaughing/uncrying stigma arf-arf, ok, in dressing room, sit down. Am not comfortable with this, better steal something, surely that will break the spell, scored a daisy-covered cotton hat, unbelievably worse for wear now, remembering how fill-in-the-dad always used to say don't lift don't steal twenty years of Psychorella and they put you on Doris TV Day shift. Sorry Mr. Dylan but this is positively fourth street.
Real-deal ma catches on, i am now hands-folded-in-little-girl-lap-dog, craving pastel pinafores and sensible footwear, can i change my name to Doris Day Plan mom?
Doris Day?! That heroin addict, biggest slut in Hollywood, rethink your role models, little miss walking abortion, christ, out of 7 miscarriages you had to be the one that lived, twitch.
Webaster, please try to be more careful.
Copyright 2002 Robin Plan and troublewaits.com. All rights reserved.