i had a bbbbbaaaaaadddddd week on the domestic front. there were a lot of tears around here. sadly, none of them mine. it appears that i have permanently turned off the waterworks somewhere along the way. i can’t cry. i want to cry. i really do. it would be so satisfying, so cathartic, so soothing to just let it rip. the best i can do is squeeze out a meager tear or two and then i start getting performance anxiety and lose my crying boner. in fact, i’ve been thinking that i need to get a box of crying porn and hide it under the bed, filled with stuff like this:
– some sad movies. netflix has a whole section called “tearjerkers”. hmmmm. sounds right up my alley. maybe something like The Elephant Man or They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? i have a clear memory of my six-year-old sister hysterically sobbing after watching The Outsiders (“stay gold, pony boy!” bwaaaahhhaaahhaaa!!!!) so i should throw that in for nostalgia purposes, kill two birds with one stone there.
– fundraising letters from Feed the Children, Sierra Club, Democratic Party, etc.
– print outs from this blog called The Saddest Thing I Own
– The Little Match Girl by Hans Christian Anderson
what would go in the box under your bed?