A Brain Like a Horror Movie?

((Possible TW))

Q:  What do you do when your brain says “Get out!” in that creepy voice?

A:  I took myself out for lunch.

I spent all of $5 and felt guilty about it.  I hardly ever do that, once in a blue moon.  Or a red one.  Or a super one.  So we’re having a red super moon, I hear.  OoooOOOoooh, how exciting.  Ugh.  I’m trying really hard here to NOT feel guilty about it.  But the bills are still in the slow process of getting paid down, and I still have stuff standing in the need of repair.  FML, I want to spend it, twice, and I’m very financially conservative.

Last night I watched two full episodes of Mister Roger’s Neighborhood on Netflix, without my family.  My kids looked on in concerned anguish at me, while I was attempting to rediscover why I loved it then.  I used to love that show.  Turns out, I still do.  You might think it’s creepy of me to watch it, or maybe you think Mister Rogers is creepy.  Watching as an adult is different.  I don’t have the innocent perspective like one would have had if one were watching in the 1970s.  Or maybe I do.  Because there’s something fun and innocent and beautiful about coloring with crayons and singing along with simple affirming songs that aren’t idiotic shitgibberish like they put on tv in the 21st Century.  I tried hard last night to escape into Fred’s Land-of-Make-Believe.  And failed, which made me sad.

I ruminated over the episodes, and it was just a simple kid’s show.  And I was sad, because even in the Land-of-Make-Believe, the handicapped boy doesn’t get well, and the prince’s mother and father fought and talked about getting divorced.  Fuck.  I’m crying.  Does this mean the manic promises September made to me were lies?  Or am I just feeling “emo” today as my daughter puts it.

I remembered when I was little my parents used to take me to the doctor for special shoes, and yet I didn’t remember Jeff Erlanger’s cameo, maybe it was after I was too old to watch.  Fred Rogers, by this time, had gray hair threading through, but was just as wonderful, warm and supportive and Jeff was a happy, intelligent little ten year old in spite of his handicap and recent surgery.  Well Jeff died at 36.

Fairy tales?  Make believe?  Reality comes in and smashes my toys and treasures and turns everything to shit.  I watched the news and there were shootings and riots and generally insane completely ape-shit people running loose in the world doing heinous evil things while I’m trying to teach my kids there’s such a thing as real love, that works through the crap and comes out OK on the other side.  And then there’s this:

“Imagine living like a king someda-a-ay.”  But not if the king is going to fight with the queen.

Yeah, call me “emo” and have a good laugh like I did the first time I heard it, but I so identify with the lyrics of this song it’s not funny.  It just seemed funny to see this little squirrel-y kid screaming lyrics.  But I listened to them later instead of just the sound and timbre of his voice, and he’s right.  Ugh, I hate it.  I could write this shit for a living if I had a stream of income coming off it.  But if I had a streaming income coming off of anything I might feel more hopeful and more like engaging in the battle everyone else calls “normal life.”  I’m not feeling suicidal, just sad.

I’m Not Feeling Suicidal, Just Sad
(Deon Mumple, 9/10/2015)

I’m not feeling suicidal, I’m just crying, sad,
I’m not fueling demonic rage, I’m just fucking mad
Those fairy tales they told me when I was a kid
Were never going to come true; they never did

What happened to the dreams I had when I was young,
They could have come true easily but I’m just dumb,

While I cry and try to sleep in my tears
The demons scream in my ears:
Pathetic fucking kid, you think life can be ideal
Well, wake up, kid, and face real life, this is real
The peace and healing you’re praying for won’t come,
Because your God just wants you to toughen up.

I really thought that it would get better,
But every other day’s a bleeding red letter,
The days and I don’t seem to really matter
And on the TV news the blood spatters

I’m not feeling suicidal, I’m just crying, sad,
I’m not fueling demonic rage, I’m just fucking mad
Those fairy tales they told me when I was a kid
Were never going to come true; they never did

Our Father, Who art in heaven,
Why did you make me believe when I was seven?
Thy Kingdom come, I am just dumb
When life is full of fucking stress,
And make-believing won’t bring any happiness,

I’m not feeling suicidal, I’m just crying, sad,
I’m not fueling demonic rage, I’m just fucking mad.
Those fairy tales they told me when I was a kid
Were never going to come true; they never did.

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One thought on “A Brain Like a Horror Movie?

  1. Midnight blog reading leads me to look for tv-shows ive never heard of, listening to music ive never heard before and think about things that are always on our minds but leave a strange, sad feeling… Thank you for this post, once more inspiring read!

    Like

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