Angry angry angry. Mania is coming up my lithium by one a day fuck the support group fuck the government fuck shit goddammit. The experts say, “Get it all out. Express your feelings.” But my points are never taken seriously because I’m loony. My logic is specious. My conclusions are faulty. For the first time in my life, nothing I say is given any weight, and I’m pissed.
I am a good storyteller. To distract myself, I will tell you about Molly and fuck shit goddammit.
When I was 15 and was invited to a birthday tea party in Scarsdale that we could never afforded to live in. All girls, only girls, in long dresses with hand-painted china tea cups. My dress was a rusty brown print with ribbing across the front and a slash of ribbing across my elbow, and I had bought it myself despite my mother not liking it. It was Molly’s birthday and she had beautiful curly long hair with one white strand. Her mother told her that that was where an angel kissed her when she was born. Her backyard was groomed and wavy with hills, and bushes sprouted out here and there. We went behind a particularly big bush and got high. Then there was some croquet, like in Alice. It was a perfect birthday.
But the best thing about that day was when Molly taught us to curse. She had given it some thought, and determined that the all-time best curse was Fuck Shit Goddammit. And when you think about it, it really is. It has the profane (goddammit), the obscene (fuck), and the disgusting (shit). I use it to this day.
And that was Molly’s adventures in wonderland. Where even the Mad Hatter got taken seriously.