The Earth, It Moves

Sometimes I look upon my blog as a therapeutic venue for unburdening my heavy bosom. And by heavy bosom, I don't mean large pendulous breasts, but rather that things weigh heavily upon my mind. Which is not my bosom. And as far as I know they are not used as synonyms for one another. So I'm kind of lost right now in figurative speech. I should stick to the literal, it's where the world makes sense.

Anyway, there are times when things happen that are so alarming, so unexpectedly traumatic, that the only way to deal with it is to write about it, maybe relieve yourself a little of the experience. And that is where I find myself right now--in the highly agitated state, needing to lay open my psyche (all right, that's severe hyperbole; I mostly plan to just write a small vignette as usual, there will be no actual openness or psyche butterflying).

Without further ado, because so far it's been nothing but, I will sum up the evening thus: My mom said the "c" word. That's right, rhymes with blunt. It's maybe the only word in the English language that I can't say, well, I'm not overly fond of "moist" but if I have to compliment a cake, sometimes that's really what it is, moist. Good quality for cakes. Horrifying, awful word probably invented by Satan. Clearly I am not focused tonight at all. I think the trauma of my mom saying the big C probably has caused some synaptic misfiring. She usually only says things like "tinkle" and "toot".

In defense of my mom, she was explaining her use of "twat". Which was brought up at the dinner table as we were reminiscing about letters found at my grandma's after she died. In one letter from my mom she had referred to my sister's twat. Just like that. Written down, in cursive even. So as I was expressing my horror tonight at my mom's use of crass terminology, she somehow compared it to the c-word. Just dropped the c-bomb casually, right over the meatloaf. Like, what's the big deal with twat? It's kind of just like saying *and here is where it happened*, right? Whereupon I fell off my chair as the fabric of space and time was rent asunder, and matter ceased to exist as we know it but rather took the form of sine waves, undulating relentlessly across the dinner table.

Mother of Ganesh, I still do not know what to make of it all. Out of left field, that's what it was. Rather than trying to figure it out, apply meaning and value to it, and sort it into my personal life history, I'm going to go with short, possibly entertaining blog story, written at the expense of my sanity.