I've written about Andrea Gibson before, but nearly every time I read something of hers, I want to talk about her more. She wrote this in her journal:
"One time we made curtains. Red ones to match my room. Neither of us knew how to use a sewing machine and I kept getting terrified that the sewing needle would sew through my finger. I’ve always been terrified of needles. When i got my kindergarten shots I screamed bloody murder then ran down the hallway of the elementary school wailing...That hurt worse than falling off a roof!! It’s been decades and I still can’t live that down. Last year I accidentally cut myself chopping carrots at my parent’s house and my mother said “Well, it couldn’t have hurt worse than falling off a roof.” People have a hard time letting things go. I am the president of the Not Letting Go Club. In December I did a week long meditation retreat in hopes of learning how to let things go. I spent most of the time thinking about fucking but I sure appreciated how quiet everyone was. I’m easily over stimulated. When I told my last psycho–therapist that I wasn’t gonna go on medication he told me I might benefit from sitting on the floor of a dark closet wearing ear plugs for two or three hours a day. I tried it once but only lasted 20 minutes cause I couldn’t stop thinking about how gay it was to be sitting in the closet. You can find a good reason to stop doing nearly anything. I stopped drinking so we wouldn’t have to keep the kitchen knives on the roof. I stopped smoking so I could look my father in the eye. I stopped sewing
My room is too red. I'm thinking blue would be much better. Or yellow. Or green. And I'll need some more umbrellas. And an orchid. And a photograph of a telephone wire where a bird sits singing to the unanswered calls."
I cried and believe in the birds.