yesterday evening, i opened the consolidated box of my presents and was knocked over with a distinct sensory memory of what i assume must have been the last time i had a big jug of the salts. my first months on livejournal, that summer my sister was pregnant, that summer my sister's ex-boyfriend and family were harassing her and, after we convinced her to stop going to public places her unlicensed ex could easily get to, me. they’d just hound us. in the grocery stores, at restaurants, in the strip mall parking lot, with the telephone. they wanted the baby. sister had decided to place the baby with another family. it was a hard and sad decision for her. it was a hard and sad decision for all of us. it still is. ex’s family, they called sister a morally corrupt retard and threatened to put her in prison if they didn’t get their kid, which was bullshit, but it terrorized my sister.
whole thing really brought out the biblical namesake in me. i had the most horrible conversation i’ve ever had with another human being with the guy’s mother, i remember, which, after she hung up on me, made me tear sister’s phone cord out of the wall and shove her phone in her underwear drawer while i begged her to at least let all their calls go to voicemail for a few days since she wouldn’t block their number. then, i went into the bathroom, put on bowery electric, drew as hot a bath as i could for the salts and sat in the water until it was cold. similar reaction to my grandmother’s strokes, the fatal fight with high school bff, and september eleventh. that’s not even all of it. damn, 2001 brought out the very best and the absolute worst in a lot of us.
wow, i thought. this entire box smells like crying. i assume it’s something particular about the big jug, having so much in one space like that. i didn’t have this issue at all with the packets.
what can i say? if any birthday, this one.