Misery loves writing

I just finished watching a documentary called, "Misery Loves Comedy." Basically they interviewed comics on all different parts of their careers, through a list of questions. The last questions was regarding misery and comedy. The vast majority conclude that although you do not need to be miserable in order to be funny, you are a whole hell of a lot funnier when miserable. This resonated with me, because [time to be honest] I am pretty damn miserable. I have done a lot of writing lately, but I have not embraced the misery side of myself much yet, but rather just all the emotions and beauty. But I have been through a lot of shit, and I feel like a f***ing mess, so why not embrace it. Maybe I'll make someone laugh.

Let's start from why I was watching a documentary in the middle of a gorgeous afternoon while in beautiful, colorful, Colorado. Well, I became very ill on Friday night (it's Sunday afternoon right now). I returned home from what could have been an incredible evening...yeah let's talk about that. Red Rocks Amphitheatre - the dream venue. The one and only venue I have had on my list to see a concert at. I've had artists on my list - Aerosmith, The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan - and have crossed them off one by one over the last few years, but only one venue. I finally went there on Friday night, in a spontaneous move with my friend who lives locally. Neither of us knew the artist, but figured in such a beautiful location, we were bound to have a good time.

Okay. So it was entertaining. The venue was beautiful. I greatly enjoyed hiking up to the auditorium, red dirt covering my well-traveled black sonuk strappy sandals, and marveling at the red rocks towering around me. The people watching was second to none. Everyone was at least 10 years younger. We couldn't decide whether the vast majority were still in high school or were freshman in college. There was a lot of bright colored clothing, tight clothing, bare skin, and fur. "I didn't know that furry knee highs was so in fashion."

We enjoyed a drink, and soaked in the view, with very little conversation outside of pointing out scantily clad women with nice asses, or the occasional person with a horse head or a blow up saxophone. Eventually, we tired of the same music over and over again, across hours of waiting, and multiple seat adjustments, further and further up the auditorium, keeping distance between us old folk in medium wash blue jeans and black tops (yes we happened to be totally matching) and the Coachella EDM crowd. I journeyed up the stairs and found a peaceful haven in the Red Rocks museum. Strolling the halls, reading about the numerous amazing musicians that have graced this stage - the types of musicians I'd always imagined seeing here at this famed venue. Eventually I made it to an outside deck, facing the opposite direction of the stage, gazing out at the nature beyond. A nice employee of the amphitheater came over to check and see if I was okay. Why you ask? I decided to just lay down on the smooth red rocks and gaze up at the stars, trying to pull myself into a zen state while the thump thump thump blared over the speakers behind me. I quickly learned from this lovely lady that the headliner would not be on stage for another two hours. And until then, there would still be zero instruments played, only...DJs. Sigh. Double sigh. She suggested I put in some headphones until then. Fortunately, I was able to procure my beloved light blue Ipod Nano and my hot pink ear buds from a secure pocket in my bright blue New Zealand day hike pack. Ahhhhh. Lovely. A little Aerosmith, Foo Figthters, and the like, was all I needed to enjoy the dark grey sky with sprinkles of stars above me, the smooth red rocks cradling me, and the gentle breeze on my skin.

Shortly after, my concert companion found me, and we quickly decided to bail. No way could we stall for another two hours and keep our sanity. As we were walking out of the venue, my friend sensed my deep unhappiness. "It almost looks like you are crying." I responded curtly, "well I was. I'll explain in the car." Yes. I had been crying. I missed home and wished I was there, and it brought on an overwhelming emotional fear of the plane tickets I'd recently purchased and how I'd probably end up feeling the same way on those trips. Sounds pathetic I know, but it's my reality. I thought this was the worse of the night. I thought I'd just go "home" eat some random healthy snack since I hadn't eaten since 1pm, watch a movie, and pass out, so that I could wake up early and go on an extensively long run or walk soaking in the beauty and serenity of this beautiful state. I thought.

Although my friend had offered multiple options of fast food or pleasantly indulgent food at his house, I refused, because I did not feel hungry. I assumed probably just not for that type of food. Once I got back, slid off my jeans and tank, and got cuddly in my sweats and tshirt, I settled into bed with my Netflix on my laptop and a sliced peach. Woah. Don't feel so hot. Nauseated. Don't feel like eating. Super thirsty. Stomach super gassy. What the hell? Not a big deal. This kinda happens from time to time. I figured once I'd settle into the movie my usual desire to snack and eat anything within reach would set it, but no. Did not want food. Felt hot, but goosebumps on my skin. Nauseated. Thirsty. Stomach bubbles.

It didn't stop. All through the night. Tossing and turning and weird dreams. At 5am I gave up and watched another movie, hoping it would distract me from the pain. Not so much, but oh well. Fell back asleep after the movie. I woke up in tears because the pain had gotten worse. Now my back was aching. I still didn't want to sleep. I was still thirsty and I probably had at least 2 liters of water throughout the night. After speaking to my family friends who are retired nurses, I was scared into thinking I might have appendicitis. Long story short, I spent my first Saturday back in Colorado in Urgent Care and the ER. From around 1 or 2 pm to 9pm. And what was the diagnosis? Gastrointestinal bug. F*** me.

As I am sitting here typing right now I am vastly overheated. I'm just sitting outside in my sweats and tshirt (yes I am still in my pajamas) enjoying the sounds of the waterfall in the backyard, and trying to soak in some fresh air. But it seems that the effort of sitting up straight and typing is too much for my body right now. I squish my face, nose up, wrinkled forehead, pursed lips, as I, once again, feel the small rodent with long claws crawling through my intestines. I want to keep writing. I want to keep digging into the misery I am experiencing and come to the end of the tunnel with a fresh perspective and a confidence that I am making all the right choices and that I have not lost the gumption to travel alone. But alas, it is too difficult. But first, before I give up and give in to the pain, I want to tell you about me turning down a blatant hookup just two days ago, because I have feelings for someone else.

"You going home or coming with?"
"Going home. I'm tired and..." (blah blah blah excuse excuse)
"Well I was going to let you hook up with me."
(Haha awesome. So very nice of you. Really? No trying to swoon me? Just words? Wow.)

I'd rather watch a movie about sex addicts or kids in a mental hospital. Whoops. Did I just say that? Oh yes, I did. Because it's true. Because that's how I feel. These days, if I am going to share that part of me. Be intimate. I want it to be with someone who gets me. Who cares for me maybe? If I had it my way, I wouldn't be with anyone else. But I am not sure circumstances will support my wish, and I am not sure my decisions portray that wish. I have tried. Anyway, I don't think I want to go down that rabbit hole. Part of me thinks I did find one of the three things I was searching for, and instead of staying like I promised, I am running. Part of me thinks I am leaving because I still am searching for it all. Maybe it's both. Maybe it's neither. But the moral of this story is that I turned down an easy physical connection because I feel an emotional connection with someone else, and even though he hasn't made much effort on his end lately, I can't help myself. The heart and body wants what it wants. It's irrational and I am okay with it.

Oh hey bunny rabbit. You are adorable. We just sit here and stare at each other when all I really want it to walk over, and gentle stroke your lovely soft fur. Maybe hold you in my arms. But you stay there. And I stay here. Because I know if I take a step toward you, you will run away. That happened to me just two days ago. But you won't come to me either. You'll just stare, from afar. And be cute. And make me want to snuggle you.

Okay, I am out. I hope this was vaguely enjoyable. I am going to go plop on the couch and embrace my GI bug of misery.

- tortured tash