"Stupid Busy" Musings

I am always “stupid busy”...are you?  Life is so full and bursting that it is disparaging and desperate; I can’t scrape another coleslaw covered plate, pick up from Tae Kwon Do on Secord, purposely grab Elmer’s glue for homemade slime or “put out” at 11:33pm on a Thursday - no, I can’t; but I do. I find the tedious tasks of today, tomorrow and the next day a wearing tread of infinite banality.  However, if the universe couches me with halting, harassing, hamstrings or with Dizzy Izzy spinning playful pirouettes through my head, I become sad and certain I don’t matter unless I am doing something.  I only love you when you’re dusting was a childhood mantra...and there’s the rub.  

One kid of mine has just come downstairs for the third time looking for a mid-90’s Christmas Archie comic that he just needs to read and tried to sneak spearmint Excel gum upstairs for a late night chew at 11; he’s almost six feet tall, acnifed and still scared of strangers at night outside on the street.  Will he ever grow old, wise and go the “fuck” to sleep?  This is another piece of “busy” without benefits to me.

I am tired, and I want to go to bed; but, I want to fit my creative weave in, and this is where it does  - weary but willful.  I wish for a day when I can sit at this grey chrome table - rusting in the crevices- and read and then, write my world to rights with no one around, nowhere to be and no dusting to do, AND I will still “love you”, Tammy.