• About

textualmadness

~ scrittura by jaqo van paulsen

textualmadness

Tag Archives: frustration

Every Day Politics

14 Friday Jul 2017

Posted by textualmadness in fiction

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

activism, burnout, civic engagement, elections, frustration, individuals, politics, resistance

She’d bought a used Monopoly game box at the Salvation Army thrift store for three dollars. Two-thirds of the contents were missing or severely damaged. A previous banker had run off with all the five-hundred dollar bills. But all she needed was the Get Out of Jail Free card. She would be mailing it to the President today. No letter or note. A fake return address: Kessler’s Karmic Kards.

Another daily act of Resistance. These individual efforts anchored her, gave roots to her existence since the election. Like many, she’d felt traumatized by the results. Ashamed. Embarrassed. For a long time, just in plain denial. For nearly a month she waited for that anyone to come to the door and inform her this was just a mistaken alternate future. The repair team would have the historical mechanisms reset in the next 4 to 6 hours. Be prepared for a slight interruption in communications services as the present was corrected.

No one ever came.

Like the stages of grief. Like PTSD. What could she have done differently? Anger. She’d stopped talking to half her family. Politics was politics, but this? Pure betrayal. Factions divided and these divisions hardened. Ever so briefly there was a hope that things might not be so bad, that the campaign rhetoric was just that: talk. Then came the reality. Inauguration followed by a shitshow circus. She’d marched. She’d donated. She’d phoned her representatives (and not-her-representatives). She’d protested. She’d countered every crude and hateful comment (real or virtual) with fact, logic, and actual American values.

She seldom laughed. Masturbation led nowhere.

She wore gloves to handle the envelope. As she walked to the mailbox, her confidence in what had seemed like such an empowering, witty idea crumbled. She was still one of many millions of grains of sand whose collective efforts grinded out a difference, but she suddenly felt isolated. Overwhelmed, she sat on the curb. She tore up the envelope. She would not have noticed the tears streaming down her face but for the salty taste on her lip.

Was this defeat? Acceptance? All she felt was a glorious sense of relief.

Nature Abhors Vacuuming

22 Saturday Aug 2015

Posted by textualmadness in fiction

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

21stcenturylife, disease, frustration, jibberish, madness, nonsense, streamofconscious

It’s like my favorite Borrelia burgdorferi is always saying: Necessity is the mother of infection. Ain’t that the truth! But truth is a slippery thing. Like an oh-shit! bar coated in astroglide. And necessity is in the eye of the credit card holder. Or, as Dora might say: Swiper no swiping. Let me break it down: The Left is Right that Right now is the exact time not to be Left out. We saved you a spot in right field. Hackers are fingering your personal data right now. Look–a celebrity did anything! Follow/Like/Fav/Heart/ThumbsUp/Reblog/Tweet me down the Tartrazine Brick Road…

Scenes from Real Life ~ My Heart Is A Diamond

21 Saturday Mar 2015

Posted by textualmadness in nonfiction

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Aphasia, frustration, illness, impotence, sickness

My heart is a diamond. It’s been shattered. The facets have been glued back on…

My father called on a Thursday night. I screened the number and chose not to answer. I was tired. Already, I offer you excuses. Friday morning I listen to the message he left. Phone flat on desk, his voice eerily emanating from the speaker while I fumble for a pencil to take notes—I’m doing his taxes and he remembered some things he forgot to tell me. Something about having him on speaker and not pressed to my ear was like listening to an analog recording… like playing a cassette tape. It took the poor man a good two minutes to tell me three potential deductions (volunteer miles my stepmother drove to the VA hospital, donated clothing to Goodwill, and a check to some charity). He has aphasia resulting from a serious stroke—the kind where you’re lucky to simply survive. It happened a decade ago, but I’m still caught short sometimes when I hear him struggle for that one word that gets lost somewhere between his brain and his lips… “For mom, you need to put down the… the… miles… no. The mileage… 40 miles… “ [and those ellipses can last anywhere from 3 to 20 seconds; sometimes the words are lost indefinitely]… “… to the… the… VA. 22 days.” It sounds like code. Like clipped messages sent by wire. The speaker function has added distance between us. As if I’m hearing him for the first time. It’s like a hand around my windpipe. He was always a talker. I talk about him as if he were dead. Parts of him are. And I wonder if the glue is going to hold. And tears edge just over the rim of my eyes. One at a time. Letting gravity roll them down my face. And I wish there was something I could do for him beyond his taxes. And I think of my wife battling depression. And my son struggling with Lyme disease. The hand around my windpipe tightens its grip. And I know I’ll continue to try and help, to love those closest to me through simple acts like fetching ice cream, teasing out smiles with bad jokes, and doing the taxes… And none of it will fix a damn thing.

A Quiet Life of Desperation

08 Wednesday Jan 2014

Posted by textualmadness in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

frustration, jabberwocky, stream of consciousness

I wanted desperately to quote you something with chapter-and-verse accuracy but nothingness is what I draw from. There is no there there. The memory–my memory–is a snake oil salesman wearing the daftest of suits, promising to recall even that which never was. Chickenscratch on a train. Writing while traveling. I wish my most malicious words could be inserted into the child’s body to hunt down the bacteria, to unwind the spirochetes, to cleanse all that is too young to be unclean. I wish my most hopeful words could be inhaled be my wife and give her joy, relief. I take out the trash instead. I walk the dog. We walk to walk. No one is cured. Nothing has changed. We will do the same tomorrow.

Recent Posts

  • (no title)
  • Aqueous Humor
  • (no title)
  • Mannequin Memories
  • (no title)

Archives

  • October 2019
  • August 2019
  • March 2019
  • December 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • July 2018
  • April 2018
  • November 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • December 2016
  • August 2016
  • May 2016
  • December 2015
  • October 2015
  • August 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • January 2015
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • June 2014
  • May 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • September 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012
  • August 2012

Categories

  • fiction
  • nonfiction
  • poetry
  • quotes
  • Uncategorized

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.com

Blog at WordPress.com.

Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy