You know that feeling you get when you know that your body is up and about, but your mind and spirit is still in deep sleep? Yes, I woke up this morning after sleeping for about three hours. I feel my inner child is nice and sleepy, all warm and cosy in her one-piece fleece PJ. My brain was sick of taking a beating so it left God-know-where. And my body is in pain – my tummy, my lower belly, behind my eyelids, my temples.
What did I do to wake up in such a state, you ask? I can’t really detail it here seeing as this is too much of a public forum, but let’s just say I’ll be doing a hell of a lot more of it when I’ll be in Amsterdam in June.
But yes, last night was awfully swell. Definitely ranks in my top three best nights of my life – the first being the night I saw Arch Enemy live in Montreal and met my role model and my rebel grrrl inspiration, Angela, backstage. The second was yet another night I cannot detail here, but it was an experience that caused me to relentlessly massage my cousin’s breasts and belly, smearing sweat mixed with dog fur all over her black nylon shirt, and enjoying the fuck out of it. As a mandatory sidenote – there was nothing sexual about it, so get your incestuous assumptions out of your mind. It was all very innocent, and very very pleasant, for both me and her.
Come to think of it, all three nights resulted in me being completely out of it and in extreme pain the following day. The day after I saw Arch Enemy, I was paralyzed from the neck to my midsection from headbanging my little heart out. I was deaf because my head was about a foot away from the speakers. And I was mute because I screamed and growled along to the songs, and I just couldn’t help it. It simply possessed me.
The second best night of my life ended at 5:00 a.m. the next day so in reality, the pain began the following day. I didn’t eat for 28 hours, and lived on water and gum the entire night. So the initial pain was a random craving for potassium. I scored a banana and was pretty happy. My jaw and my shoulders were clenched the entire night, so I was pretty sore as well. But what was worse was the emotional pain it caused, which lasted for a good two weeks. I simply could not stop crying. If you’ve ever had that experience that I could not detail above, you would know what I’m talking about.
And now this. Hungover, exhausted, swallowing in silence the pain in my cervix, yet totally basking in the afterglow of an uterly deliciously sinful night.
Although this awesome night took place in between two tragedies – the suicide bombing in Morocco, where my cousin-in-law’s sister was killed, and Holocaust Memorial Day which starts tonight – the Good Lady knows I will get a super awesome night sleep tonight, even though I’m sure She didn’t much approve of yesternight’s activity in my body.
Should I feel guilty? Well, I don’t. I’m done with guilt. So done with it. I deserve to be happy, and I deserve to relish the pain.
Peace, love and Sunday sucks anyway.