The COVID Diaries: A Black Scribble in My Brain

Hey Darling Ones,

It actively pisses me off that I love the song “Yellow*” by Coldplay. Just like “Creep” by Radiohead and “Crash Into Me” by the Dave Matthews Band.

It would be much easier if I was apathetic to it like the rest of their music** and then could forever place them in the bucket labelled “shit I don’t care about.”

Other things in that bucket: hobbits and all things hobbity (which some how encompasses dragons, Game of Thrones, and Renaissance Fairs) zombies, vampires, gummi anything, Kardashians, Hamilton, anyone with the title vlogger, Harry Potter, sushi and seafood in general, Star Wars, and the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

You should know I woke up fantastically cranky this morning and even a little angry. In fact, I woke up cranky twice. Once at 2 a.m. and then for real at 7:45 a.m. Both times the second my eyes popped opened my brain said, “Ohhh, we’re cranky.” Right now my brain is full of black scribbles and snorts of derision. I can only listen to grunge music today because the fuzziness and underpinning of anger and general air of dissatisfaction matches my insides.

Is this just a spoke in my menstrual cycle? Am I slowly losing my mind? Could this be my final metamorphosis into an evil supervillain? I suspect this is hormonal, but who knows? The best thing about perimenopause is it turns you right back into a teenager again with the unpredictability and, in my case, a zit on my chin. The indignity of being a human with a uterus is never ending.

Back to yellow. Lately the mechanism within me that desires things has decided to desire all the things in yellow. Just today I was perusing the Internet and pondering Would I be happier if I wore a pair of bright yellow headphones every day? How about if I slept on yellow sheets and made myself a zig-zaggy yellow blanket and surrounded myself with everything yellow? No wonder I’m fucking blue all the time all my things are blue. Yellow must surely be the cure for what ails me, right?

We’ll find out soon enough.

Also, also, ALSO, while I am whining aimlessly, I think I got the fungus gnats again. AGAIN! Those fuckers have been dive-bombing my morning coffee lately and I am displeased. I couldn’t tell which of the Sadness Garden denizens might be harboring the winged beasts, but I suspect it’s Peggy and Stan (the Red Prayer plants). I’m already in the process of defeating the teeny fuckers. They will not take out my Sadness Garden like they did the herblings from long ago.

the sunshine of your life,
*This song is treacle and cliche and yet whenever I hear it my heart gets heart eyes and turns a little gooey with love. This is the exact definition of the heart wants what it wants.
**To be perfectly honest, I also love Willie Nelson’s cover of “The Scientist” but that has more to do with Willie than with Coldplay.

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