Menorahs in the hood
I brought all my menorahs over to Swirl to light the candles for the eighth night – I decided to wear my platinum blonde wig as I’ve been in need of a disguise lately and one of my friends showed up in her red wig so we went as each other. We had merriment and joy and all of those things you are looking for on the eighth night.
We came back to the LaLa and formed our band of kooks and danced and laughed but in the end I woke this morning with a bigger hole in my heart than I anticipated and so began again to attempt the impossible – to disengage, to dissociate, to dissolve. Forget about quieting the chatter in my head – it’s the chatter of other people constantly telling me what I should be doing, what you should be doing, what is really going on. As if they could see what I see – feel what I feel – be who I be. As if.