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You CAN go home again...
Dec. 22nd, 2009 11:48 amit's just not a very good idea.
I'm sitting in my mother's kitchen trying to remember why I thought this might be fun and also trying to remember how to write about my non-Austin family because I've been pretending they don't exist for so long, that I've kind of lost the knack. Last night my mom played her "You don't know anything" card with my sister, and that sent her right over the edge. I quickly found myself some children to take care of - there are 7 at the house, so it wasn't a hardship - and withdrew. Once Mom went back up to the hospital to stay with my step-dad, my brother and sisters and I drank 3 bottles of $5 champagne and bitched and laughed, so that was OK. I left a bottle in the freezer, and it exploded. And I dreamed about it exploding, so it was the first thing I checked for in the morning.
It's hard to pinpoint what exactly is so awful about being back here. It could be that this town is too small to have an espresso machine - or any decent sort of coffee at all. It could be that the arguments that spring up are so old and unchanging, that I could probably play all the parts without any of the players present. It could be that despite the miraculous reform that my (formerly loser) brother has made, he still thinks it's good entertainment to watch a video of him fighting on youtube, with rednecks in the background betting, a neighbor calling out, "I've called the cops!" and the Mexican videotaping it responding, "It's ok, man, they are working out an argument."
It's not OK, man.
I've been sleeping in the room where my grandmother died 3 years ago, and it is probably the best sleep I've had in months, despite the fact that I'm being stared down by all of my Mom's creepy vintage Barbies staring at me from shelves on every wall.
Being here is weird.
I'm sitting in my mother's kitchen trying to remember why I thought this might be fun and also trying to remember how to write about my non-Austin family because I've been pretending they don't exist for so long, that I've kind of lost the knack. Last night my mom played her "You don't know anything" card with my sister, and that sent her right over the edge. I quickly found myself some children to take care of - there are 7 at the house, so it wasn't a hardship - and withdrew. Once Mom went back up to the hospital to stay with my step-dad, my brother and sisters and I drank 3 bottles of $5 champagne and bitched and laughed, so that was OK. I left a bottle in the freezer, and it exploded. And I dreamed about it exploding, so it was the first thing I checked for in the morning.
It's hard to pinpoint what exactly is so awful about being back here. It could be that this town is too small to have an espresso machine - or any decent sort of coffee at all. It could be that the arguments that spring up are so old and unchanging, that I could probably play all the parts without any of the players present. It could be that despite the miraculous reform that my (formerly loser) brother has made, he still thinks it's good entertainment to watch a video of him fighting on youtube, with rednecks in the background betting, a neighbor calling out, "I've called the cops!" and the Mexican videotaping it responding, "It's ok, man, they are working out an argument."
It's not OK, man.
I've been sleeping in the room where my grandmother died 3 years ago, and it is probably the best sleep I've had in months, despite the fact that I'm being stared down by all of my Mom's creepy vintage Barbies staring at me from shelves on every wall.
Being here is weird.