This is something I wrote almost 4 years ago.
From the halls of montezuma to the shores of tripoli.... It's the USMC Birthday Monday.
It's Veterans Day Tuesday.
To my shame I'm already roiling about these. Instead of being able to honor and respect those who... Yeah. Can't even type about it. Selfish. Self centered. Sick. Sad. Sorrowful. Sonnuvabitch. It's not about me. But I can't pull my own head out of my ass long enough to celebrate and mourn. Christ.
The 4th of July?
Stressor? Almost always - Whether it’s from the weight of my own memories having a reason to hit harder, or the social engagements, is a bit of a tossup.
Triggered? Sometimes. - The nature of the holiday makes it a trigger rich environment.
I fold the flag correctly, which means that when I hang it that sometimes it’s not my hands on it, but white gloves. Sometimes it’s not the street noise, that I’m hearing, but taps. I’m barefoot but can feel the corner of the pack of cigarettes pressing into my ankle in my socks and hear the squeak of my clorforms. That can happen any time I’m getting the flag out or putting her back, though. The corner of the fabric or the way the light hits a star and I’m <low whistle> gone for just a second. // Last year I discovered that while fireworks don’t usually bite me, running through the woods, after someone I love, with disco lights flashing, booming concussions rippling the air , and cordite clogging my nose will send me into a monster f*cking flashback. Wheee. Note to self: Don’t do that. // Where I’m at we see a lot of air traffic, but not a lot of military air traffic. There are 2 specific helicopters that the thumping of their blades gets into my bones, sets my blood on fire, and we see them HERE on the 4th. :wtf: It’s mostly envy mingled with despair, spiked with a rising... everything. But they also trigger the hell out of me, sometimes. So that’s outstanding. In addition to being old, fat, broken, useless ...it’s flashes back to a time when I wasn’t, coupled with a helluva lot of antipathy. I mostly mock myself with images of poor little storm trooper missing their white helmet and imperial death march.. boo f*cking hoo... grow a damn spine, and grow the f*ck up, and take some motherf*cking responsibility for the live you lead. Don’t like it? Change it.
Mostly? I enjoy the 4th. But I mostly make it a point to be away from f*cking here, setting off my own fireworks on a beach somewhere. The years I don’t do that, I tend to regret it.
Im 2 showers deep today, and it’s looking like a 5 shower kind of day.. just to keep my head in the game. And I haven’t had anything to drink in a few weeks, but ai’ll probably need to break out a bottle or six if I want to sleep tonight. The helos have already done one flyover.
It ain’t a hard day.
It’s just a day that tends to have hard shit in it.