Jeff always laughed at my 'isms' as we called them. Other people may call them neurosis, magical thinking, OCD or just plain fucking odd.
I'd always leave the volume on the stereo on an even number. When I turned it off, I'd always have to leave it on 8. I don't know why really...Just I figured something 'bad' might happen if I didn't. And maybe 'good' things would happen if I did. Jeff would try to freak me out by leaving in on nine. He thought it was hilarious watching my discomfort as I tried to be 'okay with it'.
Or I figured, if I could make it to the top of the stairs without taking a breath, good things would happen (Jeff would get a land job. We'd win the lottery. Liv would sleep through the night. Etc.)
At 11:11, I'd again hold my breath and make as many wishes as I could. I somehow hoped that whatever I wished in that minute would come true if I held my breath.
If I saw something I didn't want in my life; such as a wildly swinging booger in someone's nostril, a three legged dog, or stirrup pants, I'd have to exhale. Conversely, I'd inhale if there was something that I found pleasing; a fabulous pair of green runners, an amazing painting, a photo of a crisp dew-filled morning, etc.
Anyhow, now that you think that I am truly weird, know that all this 'magical thinking' and all my 'isms' don't work. Bad shit happens even if you stand on your head while whistling 'Old McDonald' backwards while wearing your underpants with the Smurfs on it.
The Silencing of a Poet
1 day ago