We Can't Stop Here: This is Bat Country.

by fiona

2007-08-20 03:09:33 PDT

Um, maybe the screaming drunkfight in the downstairs suite can end now so I can go to sleep?! It's centred on whether or not the two of them can quit drinking or not, and whose fault it is that they drink all the time, and who stole whose pack of smokes off the dashboard of the truck. The woman keeps calling the guy "man," as in "Awwww fyuck yooo maaan, why wonyou lemme use your PHONE? How many timesve I leyoo yooose my phone? Like 4 times this week, man, okay man?" And then the dude gave her directions to a nearby payphone. He wasn't even kidding, either. I think he thought he was being helpful. Jesus, I hate drunks. Fucking hate 'em.

It's this endless horrible cycle down there, always-- this type of fight is just a microcosm of the whole relationship, you know, where two people are absolutely poisonously miserable together but somehow it bonds them in some sick way. Like two rabid bats that somehow ran into one another mid-air because the rabies broke their sonar or something, and now they can't fly because their crepey dirty wings are wrapped around one another's throats, so they're plummeting towards the earth but still they won't let go and fly away because they're too busy fighting about which bat gave the other bat rabies in the first place.

But you know, some couples just...hate each other. They do. That hate is the only thing bonding them. It gives them permission to be at their worst, all the time. Then they have an excuse to stay permanently fucked up addiction-wise or happiness-wise or mental health-wise; whatever rut it is they're in, they can stay there as long as they have someone to hate and blame who hates and blames them. That sounds like a greeting card, doesn't it?

Hmmm. This all made more sense in my head than it does here-- especially the bats-- but I'm not usually up and typing at 3am. I'm going to go climb in with Clay, who hogs the bed but never tries to bite me. Maybe we need to take a bunch of mescaline or something before the drunks start to make sense.