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Unbridled Joy
Feb. 7th, 2007 03:31 am
This morning, coming home, as we were approaching the on-ramp to the I-15 a couple of guys on a motorcycle pulled up along side us. It was two late middle-aged men on the bike. The passenger was making the sign of the Horned Lord with his fist - when he wasn't just holding both arms out feeling the air passing through his fingers, anyway. They were both whooping & hollering at traffic, & they looked like they were having an absolute blast. Rob kept saying they were drunk, but I honestly don't think they were. They just looked to me like two grown men who were serious about having fun. They looked so free & unconstrained. It was a moment when no one was watching (even though the street was pretty full for 2am on a Wednesday) & they just busted loose into uncensored hilarity. Those two weekday warriors were my exact polar opposites at that moment (me, coming home from work in my polyester penguin suit, over tired & grouchy & overwrought)- and yes, I'm insanely jealous of them :) I hope they continue having a ball, I really do. I want them to go home with nothing but good things to say about all the people they hooted & hollered at, that we were all good sports & we all supported them in their enjoyment of the machine they were riding, the road & the wind through their fingers.
I keep talking about how I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. I have no aims, goals, hopes, dreams or desires. I am 'Coyote Woman Waiting'... waiting for what? Waiting to get a little older? Waiting for death, maybe? I've also been thinking about the nature of addiction... the concept that what we are addicted to is a substitute for what we are lacking most in our lives. Maybe I do substitute food for something... Maybe it's the one indulgence I have that I feel safest about indulging. Seriously, I didn't start getting really fat til I laid off the booze. Usually it's the opposite - you start drinking, you get the beer belly, but for me I burned off a lot of calories while I was drunk. I danced more & didn't eat as much. I was drunk a lot. I stopped drinking as heavily when I met Rob because I was trying to be supportive of his decision to not drink ever again. I mean, yeah, I can go out & get 'faced every now & again, & right now I'm sitting here w/a beer because I just wanted alcohol after my ordeal with work. It's a crutch, I admit it, and I'm willing to lean on that motherfucking crutch right now. It's a last resort - when I cannot change a damn thing about the thing that is making me the most unhappy, I have a drink. Being constantly drunk isn't a 'safe' outlet for me. It's not a 'safe', socially-acceptable, ultra-responsible release. When I indulge myself with more calories than I use, well, yeah, being fat is unhealthy, and it's not exactly socially acceptable, but it's more acceptable than functioning alcoholism. Functioning alcoholism is also just a couple of drinks away from being a wino.
This morning (or maybe when I got up around 1, I don't remember, it's been a long day) I came to a realization. More than anything, I want to be unmoderate. I would like to just be a drunk again, all the time. There is a certain mystique that goes along with being a drunk, depressed person. Something about being drunk triggers my creativity, my intuition, it lights my inner flame - and I'm not alone in that - so many brilliant artists were fueled by alcohol. I'm tired of always being responsible, always thinking of every possible consequence before I take action. I'd like to be wild. I'd like to take hallucinogens so every time I open my eyes I see something new. I'm tired of the aesthetic lifestyle of Buddhists and spiritualists - I want to live like Crowley.
What I really want to be when I grow up is a Maenad. I want to drink the blood-red wine, dancing through towns half-naked with sistrum and drums and bells and hounds, to sweep through villas with a wild skirling chaotic horde of mad drunken women and baying dogs. I want to chase Dionysus down the mountainside, half-falling, half running. I want to and run the God to ground. I want to tear His flesh with my fingers and teeth. I want to eat of His still-beating heart. I want to wake in some strange town square with a bad head and bloody thighs and the lingering kiss of the God on my lips and tongue.
That is what I really want, what I really desire.
I keep talking about how I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. I have no aims, goals, hopes, dreams or desires. I am 'Coyote Woman Waiting'... waiting for what? Waiting to get a little older? Waiting for death, maybe? I've also been thinking about the nature of addiction... the concept that what we are addicted to is a substitute for what we are lacking most in our lives. Maybe I do substitute food for something... Maybe it's the one indulgence I have that I feel safest about indulging. Seriously, I didn't start getting really fat til I laid off the booze. Usually it's the opposite - you start drinking, you get the beer belly, but for me I burned off a lot of calories while I was drunk. I danced more & didn't eat as much. I was drunk a lot. I stopped drinking as heavily when I met Rob because I was trying to be supportive of his decision to not drink ever again. I mean, yeah, I can go out & get 'faced every now & again, & right now I'm sitting here w/a beer because I just wanted alcohol after my ordeal with work. It's a crutch, I admit it, and I'm willing to lean on that motherfucking crutch right now. It's a last resort - when I cannot change a damn thing about the thing that is making me the most unhappy, I have a drink. Being constantly drunk isn't a 'safe' outlet for me. It's not a 'safe', socially-acceptable, ultra-responsible release. When I indulge myself with more calories than I use, well, yeah, being fat is unhealthy, and it's not exactly socially acceptable, but it's more acceptable than functioning alcoholism. Functioning alcoholism is also just a couple of drinks away from being a wino.
This morning (or maybe when I got up around 1, I don't remember, it's been a long day) I came to a realization. More than anything, I want to be unmoderate. I would like to just be a drunk again, all the time. There is a certain mystique that goes along with being a drunk, depressed person. Something about being drunk triggers my creativity, my intuition, it lights my inner flame - and I'm not alone in that - so many brilliant artists were fueled by alcohol. I'm tired of always being responsible, always thinking of every possible consequence before I take action. I'd like to be wild. I'd like to take hallucinogens so every time I open my eyes I see something new. I'm tired of the aesthetic lifestyle of Buddhists and spiritualists - I want to live like Crowley.
What I really want to be when I grow up is a Maenad. I want to drink the blood-red wine, dancing through towns half-naked with sistrum and drums and bells and hounds, to sweep through villas with a wild skirling chaotic horde of mad drunken women and baying dogs. I want to chase Dionysus down the mountainside, half-falling, half running. I want to and run the God to ground. I want to tear His flesh with my fingers and teeth. I want to eat of His still-beating heart. I want to wake in some strange town square with a bad head and bloody thighs and the lingering kiss of the God on my lips and tongue.
That is what I really want, what I really desire.
