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- I drive downtown in the rain, in the dark. My car is at 74,999 miles. People are everywhere, waiting for the parade. I get a coffee, Sunday evening, my eyelids are Tyrian purple and match my shirt, as if I'm wearing eye shadow and planned it that way. Gloomiest day imaginable, I am under the weather in a multitude of senses. I wallowed around in the morning for a while before giving up on my planned run. It was pouring and I'd given myself another headache and the only way to stop crying was to get back into bed. Carolyn Hax might approve but Rob Brezsny would not - he's always trying to get us to love like there's no pain. I don't believe in mistakes and I don't think he does either but Rob Brezsny lives on a different plane and given the right situation you can love like there's no pain but if you do that in every situation you're a sucker. A year ago I wasted my extra hour being rabidly hungover after a stupid night out with my old jackass neighbor - what a waste of a free hour. This year maybe I've wasted much of the day but it's not over yet and I should probably try to pull myself together before work tomorrow. Although uncontrollable crying would probably qualify for sick leave.
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