02.26.03 Mona Lisa on Black Velvet

It's getting late. Well, late to me. I never used to think of Midnight in such a way.

Mostly my being tired is a product of Sudafed Nighttime and NyQuil...or "Nitetime" the generic version. Cheaper, but still knocks you out. A black sleep.

My Mom is still here. She is still talking about her ailments. I am convinced that she and my Aunt are in competition to see who can have the most surgeries. I think mom is winning.

I find it kind of funny that she has found a new hobby to "relax" her. She has started to buy those color-in black and white felt picures. You know the ones with angels holding hands, Unicorns prancing around a rainbow, or crazy celtic/yin yang combos. She told me tonight she prefers the "artsy" ones, like the black and white felt 'Mona Lisa' she saw at Kmart for 2.99. I am sure Miss Lisa hoped one day she would be once again immortalized in felt and day glo markers. Gotta love my Momma.

My niece is doing much better. She is moved out of intensive care. We are still unsure of how the brain damage is going to manifest itself.

I really try to not to think about what happened to her. I don't like to think of what man is capable of. When I think of deeds some men do, I question the thread that runs through us all. Are we all that fucked up? I mean, really I do have some crazy thoughts sometimes. Of course, I don't act on them, but they still came from me. Don't you ever wonder what crazy shit other people think about, but don't act on. Ever wonder how many times someone has plotted your death, or torture, or rape? Mankind is just as twisted as it is straight.

I really don't like to think about it. It tends to lead me down the thought process where at the end of everything all energy is burned up and all there is is darkness, emptiness, energyless. Thoughts like that make me question why we keep up the charade. Why we carpool? Why we keep smiling at each other on the streets.

But then, we live in the now, right? That is the human condition. Memories of the past to sustain us, hopes for the future to propel us, but NOW that is where it all happens. All, being the shaken babies, and mother's coloring in their own little felt Mona Lisa, and the Sons trying to get a grasp despite the haze produced by over the counter cold medicine.

I really should get some sleep. I feel an all metaphor rant coming on, and I don't think I could live with the guilt.