Accent-tchu-ate the positive, my ass

The sun is shining
The leaves are brown
And Birds fly over the lake
Out beyond my tree
To celebrate the nativity
But it’s the morning of regrets,
And I’m embarrassed to think of my guests.

I’m wishing that I was not me
But someone who I would like to know
Where my heart laughs
And people listen
To be what I’ve come to be
I’m wishing that I was not me
With every cocktail that I hide
May my days be Exciting Creative and Light
And may I all ways know that I am right.

I am the possiblity of Excitement, Creativity, Compassion, and Light; even without booze, Rolf, this house, my job, I'm not dead yet. I'm still here, still trying, still dying. "I'm one of the good guys, drowning in plenty and whining for more." How did I get here. A better question is where would I be if I wasn't here. I'd have been fighting for my life, when co-workers said AIDS was judgement from G-d. I hope that bitch is Dead. Is this survivor's guilt? I used to pray that I'd get thrown into boot camp or something to clear my mind out, develop some dicipline. Always hurt, lost, confused, scared. That's why I'm always appalled when someone commits suicide, because I know why. Thank god for my loved ones. I could never do that to them. They have no idea how they hold me up. But the drinking has got to stop. And this anti-depressant is damaging my heart - I think that's why I've become easily winded. But, I can't stop taking it for fear that I'll jump off a bridge. I'm sorry, I'm just upset this morning. Mad, hurt, ashamed and angry; teary too.

Rolf is asleep. I'm locked in the office, snuggly warm from a hot restorative bath. This room has been cleaned to the nines. With the art work I put up this week, (three are Rolf's degrees, plus a WWII print of soldiers taking a shower; advising "It's an Old American Custom KEEP CLEAN Take a bath every day you can" well, they're naked it's kitchy, fun, and it was a gift from one of our dinner guests last night,) well, with the art work, everything so clean and organized; I wonder where he put it all. I didn't think that the house needed that much work. It was ok with me if there was . . . well it wasn't really ok with me, I was just resigned to the house not glimmering . But he did get it to glimmer. It really looks nice. Organized and elegant, just don't open any closet door.

It seems the whole week has been devoted to the dinner party, but in reality there was much more going on. I can't believe that New Year's Eve was just last week. I had planted daffodils at Mama's on Saturday. It was a day without Rolf, because I made him go to the Redskins game. So, he wasn't home that evening. I wrapped gifts. Kept the dishwasher going, and the clothes washer too, and orgainzed or disgarded piles of crap in hopes that the house would be in order for the party.

Rolf and I celebrated our Christmas on New Years Eve. It's always been a challenge on how to have a romantic Christmas, even more so in the years that Bemmy lived with us, or when Tomas would decend on us as if we had nothing better to do than cater to his every whim. This year, well, I got the tree up. . of course I think all the ornament boxes stayed around it instead of gifts until last Saturday. Rolf put them away . . . oh I remember

God how fucked up this has been. (It's really beautiful here. Not just cause the house is clean, the christmas tree is pretty, but it's 70 degrees, and the trail around the lake behind our house is teaming with life. Rolf's up - we're not speaking. He's not speaking to me because I'm an idiot, and I'm not speaking to him because he was a jerk, I guess.)

God, I've been sitting here for hours trying to decide what to write, It is not coming easily.