Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Ah yes. Wednesday. Quite possibly the lamest of all days - you just almost, but - not quite - just a little more to the left... AAaahh - and, no. You're nothing special.
Ooooh - great segway (YAY phonetics!) to a "Seebo(regardlessofherzen) is just not worth anything"! Very circa 2005; very "I [heart] Huckabees" -
(BTW - isn't that the newest new for, “and then some – bring it?”)
There was a point. Let's see - what has influenced all kinds of (one might even say "loads" of - honestly) thought tonight:
1) got off work, went to rents to get $$$ for parking at the doctor tomorra, cause I'm a big girl now - I drive up to the hand out...
1a) Broke my rule, not going to self depreciate...
2) watched BEP's "My Humps" on YouTube for about 20 minutes. Oh, and also listened to some of The Smiths, but mostly "My Humps", waiting for my hand-out
3) came home, fed the menage, had a cocktail and a blood orange (the only orange worth its orange-ness in orange this time of year, and so PRETTY!), watched Ghost Hunters
3a) Love ghosts
3b) LOVE GHOSTS
3c) Um, lost my train of thought... hate bush?
3d) Et Cetera
And other stuff. Teachingirl will understand. And what?
What a change - a post just for fun. I did have great insights into the Black Plague and its relationship to genetic [evolution] mutations which parallel AIDS in some ways, but in the opposite geographic locations; and also Techtonic Strain Theory with regards to the "paranormal" and how does One such as myself make a reservation in room **** of The *******, **?
Aaaaaahhoooooooggggaahhhhhhhh
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Oh yeah -
And one more thing:
It sucks to think you are lucky cause someone slept with you.
Honestly!? How fucked up is that?
Pretty.
And, ladies and gentleman, if you haven't already - call your moms.
Sincerly, and with warnest regards -
The-heart-shaped-letter-"V"
It sucks to think you are lucky cause someone slept with you.
Honestly!? How fucked up is that?
Pretty.
And, ladies and gentleman, if you haven't already - call your moms.
Sincerly, and with warnest regards -
The-heart-shaped-letter-"V"
Gaaahhhd I hate poetry.
Its just so trite. "Pardon me while I go play the graaan piano - I'll just read some of my lastest musings taken under the larch in Sussex..." Okay, well, maybe I took that a little far, but you can't tell me you don't understand. That everyone has their picture of what someone's saying. And it doesn't matter if its different cause its all equal like. Dig? "Dig" just seemed appropriate; yes, in a gay way.
But poetry has to be stupid, cause everyone that has ever shown me a POEEEMMMM of their's - in that moment - there existists a "gayness" of all things Gay that just makes you lame.
So - here you are. Brought to you py Lamo (Trademarr R), produced by Seebo...
Dragging heavy out of bed,
how is it so bright?
How can it be so light?
Afeard I am not armed for this fight.
Taken from the beautiful chaos(chorus)
of the sleep-time, dreaming;
Obscenely schemening and decieving -
Or revealing -
Or consealing with thoughts beaming and
Teeming,
Reeming...
But, sadly, sometimes
You won't
Cause you can't, or maybe
Just cause you don't.
And your only solace -
In the magical web of unbelieveable lying time -
(sometimes a poem can rhyme)
Unto the stumble the devine? Note: not Kevin Federline...
Perfectly, quietly and disgruntled lest
Know You Are Not That Important -
And there is the truth that you need
To Be
O
k
But poetry has to be stupid, cause everyone that has ever shown me a POEEEMMMM of their's - in that moment - there existists a "gayness" of all things Gay that just makes you lame.
So - here you are. Brought to you py Lamo (Trademarr R), produced by Seebo...
Dragging heavy out of bed,
how is it so bright?
How can it be so light?
Afeard I am not armed for this fight.
Taken from the beautiful chaos(chorus)
of the sleep-time, dreaming;
Obscenely schemening and decieving -
Or revealing -
Or consealing with thoughts beaming and
Teeming,
Reeming...
But, sadly, sometimes
You won't
Cause you can't, or maybe
Just cause you don't.
And your only solace -
In the magical web of unbelieveable lying time -
(sometimes a poem can rhyme)
Unto the stumble the devine? Note: not Kevin Federline...
Perfectly, quietly and disgruntled lest
Know You Are Not That Important -
And there is the truth that you need
To Be
O
k
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Seebo is people too -
Need to tell ya,
Gotta tell ya -
I'm sorry but I'm just thinking of the right words to say
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be;
But if you wait around a while
I'll make you fall for me -
I promise you
I promise you I will...
But if I had to walk the world I'd make you fall for me
I promise you
I promise you I will
- Sung by When in Rome
And doesn't it speak softly and carry a big [love] stick? - Teddy R. with a little Seebo thrown in for good measure.
S
Gotta tell ya -
I'm sorry but I'm just thinking of the right words to say
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be;
But if you wait around a while
I'll make you fall for me -
I promise you
I promise you I will...
But if I had to walk the world I'd make you fall for me
I promise you
I promise you I will
- Sung by When in Rome
And doesn't it speak softly and carry a big [love] stick? - Teddy R. with a little Seebo thrown in for good measure.
S
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Rainbows on kittens and mittens on noses...
These are a few of my favorite things?
I had tons, literally TONNES to say until I started this blog, and then recognized that other people (people whom I don't know - but still love and appreciate for finding something worth reading here - bang up job ole chaps) will read this. Now, again, as I apparently have been most of my life, find myself indulging in selfishness. And I'm also a chronic bad speller, but that's neither here nor there...
I wanna speak. I wanna scream. I want mad, mad passionate sex, I want to get higher than high.
And the thing is, I can't. The person who introduced me to all that is gone. Hates me. Well, at least his disgusting crusty old lady does. Bleach. Wouldn't touch her with a fifty foot pole, even if someone else was holding it...
Yet somehow in his eyes she's a better catch than me.
Is she? Really?
I want a man. A man's man, who will get the spider out of the bathtub and have a nice chest for me to sleep on. Someone who wants to protect me. Someone who's body fits into mine like we were made for each other...
A man that I can take care of. Make great meals for, have his head in my lap watching TV and just petting him. Someone who will go out with me to see the horses and see what I do that makes me powerful. Someone who kisses just for the sake of kissing.
Apparently this is all too much to ask. I know don't have a bad attitude. But that's what makes it the hardest; Pilbox - I was borne eternally hopeful and light of spirit. I learned this heaviness. And I'm just afraid that if I don't put out the pessimistic that I'll look like a fool.
Does that make sense?
I do hope, but I'm embarrassed for hoping, because maybe I'm not lovable, a desirable woman (THAT CACNNOT BE TRUE) - I'm so at a loss, and so lonely...
S
I had tons, literally TONNES to say until I started this blog, and then recognized that other people (people whom I don't know - but still love and appreciate for finding something worth reading here - bang up job ole chaps) will read this. Now, again, as I apparently have been most of my life, find myself indulging in selfishness. And I'm also a chronic bad speller, but that's neither here nor there...
I wanna speak. I wanna scream. I want mad, mad passionate sex, I want to get higher than high.
And the thing is, I can't. The person who introduced me to all that is gone. Hates me. Well, at least his disgusting crusty old lady does. Bleach. Wouldn't touch her with a fifty foot pole, even if someone else was holding it...
Yet somehow in his eyes she's a better catch than me.
Is she? Really?
I want a man. A man's man, who will get the spider out of the bathtub and have a nice chest for me to sleep on. Someone who wants to protect me. Someone who's body fits into mine like we were made for each other...
A man that I can take care of. Make great meals for, have his head in my lap watching TV and just petting him. Someone who will go out with me to see the horses and see what I do that makes me powerful. Someone who kisses just for the sake of kissing.
Apparently this is all too much to ask. I know don't have a bad attitude. But that's what makes it the hardest; Pilbox - I was borne eternally hopeful and light of spirit. I learned this heaviness. And I'm just afraid that if I don't put out the pessimistic that I'll look like a fool.
Does that make sense?
I do hope, but I'm embarrassed for hoping, because maybe I'm not lovable, a desirable woman (THAT CACNNOT BE TRUE) - I'm so at a loss, and so lonely...
S
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Love is short, forgetting so long
Not that the thermos song isn't terribly touching...
Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair
XX
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write for example, 'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to a pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her
Pablo Neruda
Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair
XX
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write for example, 'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to a pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her
Pablo Neruda
Five on one hand, half of ten on the other...
On one hand -
Edge
The woman is perfected.
Her dead
Body wears the smile of accomplishment,
The illusion of a Greek necessity
Flows in the scrolls of her toga,
Her bare
Feet seem to be saying:
We have come so far, it is over.
Each dead child coiled, a white serpent,
One at each little
Pitcher of milk, now empty.
She has folded
Them back into her body as petals
Of a rose close when the garden
Stiffens and odors bleed
From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower.
The moon has nothing to be sad about,
Staring from her hood of bone.
She is used to this sort of thing.
Her blacks crackle and drag.
Slyvia Plath, 1963
But on the other hand -
Oh I'm picking out a thermos for you
not an ordinary thermos for you
but the extra best thermos you can buy
with vinyl and stripes and a cup built right in
I'm picking out a thermos for you
and maybe a barometer too
and what else can I buy
so on me you'll rely
a rear end thermometer too
Steve Martin, The Jerk (quite possibly the funniest movie ever, of all time)
Is it just me or is ot odd to have these two polar opposites playing themselves out in my mind?
All I know is I don't need you, I don't need anyone. Except this ashtray, and that's it. This ashtry and these matches, and thats ALL I need. And this lamp. This lamp, the ashtray, the matches and this paddle board game. And that's all I need...
Edge
The woman is perfected.
Her dead
Body wears the smile of accomplishment,
The illusion of a Greek necessity
Flows in the scrolls of her toga,
Her bare
Feet seem to be saying:
We have come so far, it is over.
Each dead child coiled, a white serpent,
One at each little
Pitcher of milk, now empty.
She has folded
Them back into her body as petals
Of a rose close when the garden
Stiffens and odors bleed
From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower.
The moon has nothing to be sad about,
Staring from her hood of bone.
She is used to this sort of thing.
Her blacks crackle and drag.
Slyvia Plath, 1963
But on the other hand -
Oh I'm picking out a thermos for you
not an ordinary thermos for you
but the extra best thermos you can buy
with vinyl and stripes and a cup built right in
I'm picking out a thermos for you
and maybe a barometer too
and what else can I buy
so on me you'll rely
a rear end thermometer too
Steve Martin, The Jerk (quite possibly the funniest movie ever, of all time)
Is it just me or is ot odd to have these two polar opposites playing themselves out in my mind?
All I know is I don't need you, I don't need anyone. Except this ashtray, and that's it. This ashtry and these matches, and thats ALL I need. And this lamp. This lamp, the ashtray, the matches and this paddle board game. And that's all I need...
Monday, May 22, 2006
Sir Winston Churchill
Drank a lot of whiskey, and is due his place amongst men who are due to be called "men" -
"If you are going through hell, keep going."
"There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man."
Well said, old man. Well said.
And I don't wanna hear how he was a this or that. I'm Irish. Nuff said. Its drilled into our very souls. Alls I know is this: the man went to fight in Africa, with a crate of whiskey, and a crate of scotch, and some wine, and maybe a change of britches. But with those few (but powerful) provisions, escaped across a desert without a horse (let alone one with no name) to come back and lead a defeated empire to stasis. God willing America can find her dashing hero to do the same.
I'm tired - its Friday, right? Nil me go maith...
"If you are going through hell, keep going."
"There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man."
Well said, old man. Well said.
And I don't wanna hear how he was a this or that. I'm Irish. Nuff said. Its drilled into our very souls. Alls I know is this: the man went to fight in Africa, with a crate of whiskey, and a crate of scotch, and some wine, and maybe a change of britches. But with those few (but powerful) provisions, escaped across a desert without a horse (let alone one with no name) to come back and lead a defeated empire to stasis. God willing America can find her dashing hero to do the same.
I'm tired - its Friday, right? Nil me go maith...
Part the second: What hangeth?
Also known as "Something wicked this way hangeth" -
Alright. Per the last post. Yes, it is true, I also do have a beany baby. But its on my tower, well out of the way. And its a baby rottie. That my grandmother gave me. And what?
Don't we all have a beany baby somewhere that is all gay and shit and you don't want anyone to know about? And not in a homosexual way - moreso in a prison way.
Judge me if you must, and you will, cause isn't that why we're all here? Sure feels like it sometimes.
S.
Alright. Per the last post. Yes, it is true, I also do have a beany baby. But its on my tower, well out of the way. And its a baby rottie. That my grandmother gave me. And what?
Don't we all have a beany baby somewhere that is all gay and shit and you don't want anyone to know about? And not in a homosexual way - moreso in a prison way.
Judge me if you must, and you will, cause isn't that why we're all here? Sure feels like it sometimes.
S.
What Hangeth?
One wouldn’t think a Lion Tamer cum Cultural Revolutionary would have a cubicle, but there is a surprising amount of paperwork that goes along with lion taming: tracking the lions, recording their stamps (We stamp them when they're small!), orders for frozen gazelles and lion taming hats - you get the drift. Here is a list of things that I have in or on my cubicle to help me forget that sometimes even the best of us are occasionally trapped in a box.
Pictures of various horses I know
Picture of Bono
Pictures of Andalucia from my trip last year
Two pictures of favorite places in Ireland
Picture of Buster Keaton
Picture of Winston Churchill
Picture of Abbie Hoffman
Picture of Mickey Mantle
Picture of the Beastie Boys
Picture of Cole Porter
Picture of Che Guevara
Picture of Gary Oldman
Picture of The Young Ones
Picture of John Cleese
Smiley face some cute boy drew me one Friday afternoon
Jim Henson postage stamp
Theodor Seuss Geisel stamp
Pictures of my cats and Darby-dog
Newspaper Op/Ed clipping, “Why profs vote for Dems”
An assortment of amusing quotes from Jung, Churchill, C. Montgomery Burns, and the like
A Cookie Monster figurine thingie
A Captain Kirk figurine thingie (and please note here that by “figurine thingie” I mean “small plastic toy” – I just don’t get to use the word “thingie” as often as I’d like) in the arms of an alien figurine thingie
One big-ass purple Lego
A Mystery Machine Van
Don’t ask me why or how all these things got here. Probably I should be embarrassed when co-Lion Tamers come by to pick up forms or schedules of the weeks lion taming details, but hell. Its my box, I can be a wank if I want to.
Hmmm. I like lists. Much less melodramaculous then what tends to come out in the evenings… I've posted a few things which I've quickly unposted. I vow - here and now - to try, well, not "to try", but to TRY to try not to do that anymore. Seems self defeating. And even though now I see a few people do read this, I doubt they are part of the evil masses who's prying eyes I'd like to keep out.
S.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Not that this will ever happen...
But if I were to get married, the song we'd dance to is U2's rendition of Unchained Melody -
I'm crying right now, because for once I'm picturing someone singing it to me, and not the other way around...
If you haven't heard it, you must.
_____________________________________
Oh, oh my love, my darling
I've hungered for your touch
Alone, lonely time
And time goes by so slowly
And time can do so much
Are you still mine
I need your love
I need your love
God, speed your love to me
Lonely rivers flow to the sea to the sea
To the open arms of the sea
Lonely river sigh, wait for me, wait for me
I'll be coming home
Wait for me
Oh, oh my love, oh my darling
I've hungered, hungered for your touch
Oh, my, lonely time
And time goes by so slowly and time can do so much
Are you still mine, I need your love I need your
love, God speed your love to me.
Post Scriptum-
Where's teachingirl when I need her? I'm so angry and bitter and scared right now that even she falls under my wrath. Though I know I'll get over that - sorry teachingirl... But still. I need her love, god speed her love to me
I'm crying right now, because for once I'm picturing someone singing it to me, and not the other way around...
If you haven't heard it, you must.
_____________________________________
Oh, oh my love, my darling
I've hungered for your touch
Alone, lonely time
And time goes by so slowly
And time can do so much
Are you still mine
I need your love
I need your love
God, speed your love to me
Lonely rivers flow to the sea to the sea
To the open arms of the sea
Lonely river sigh, wait for me, wait for me
I'll be coming home
Wait for me
Oh, oh my love, oh my darling
I've hungered, hungered for your touch
Oh, my, lonely time
And time goes by so slowly and time can do so much
Are you still mine, I need your love I need your
love, God speed your love to me.
Post Scriptum-
Where's teachingirl when I need her? I'm so angry and bitter and scared right now that even she falls under my wrath. Though I know I'll get over that - sorry teachingirl... But still. I need her love, god speed her love to me
Friday, May 12, 2006
Why? Why do I do this to myself?
“It’s not you, but its not me either…”
Why is it that no one is around now, when I feel like I need people the most?
I was popular in high school, and after. When the phone rang, it was for me. Now I have a house, and my [abusive] man left me, and the phone never rings. I call my mom at least 3 times (after getting home from work) a night, just to have someone to tell stuff to. I say “tell stuff to” because that’s what it is. Its not that I need to talk (though I do) – I need to express myself, out loud and for reals.
Credit that “for reals” to teachingirl.
But she’s not there anymore either. I wish I could throw myself into this blog. I wish I could present dialectic arguments about my political beliefs versus that of the Evil Empire. I wish I could just puke out all this crap. But something is holding me back.
I want my phone to ring. So I spent 5 plus years with The Loser. At least then I always had plans, always had friends, the phone was always ringing… Was that because of him, and now that he’s gone, no one wants to talk to me. Not exactly, but sort of…
How do I do this? I’m so lonely. Am I really that selfish? As selfish as The Loser told me I am? Is it all about me? I don’t think so, but at the same time I need someone now. Someone to appreciate me. Someone who WANTS to talk to ME. I need my phone to ring, and have it be someone other than my mom. And I need to not drunk dial people, cause I always feel guilty – if they wanted to talk to me, they would call…
In all fairness, Cap’n called last night. Just on the off hand chance someone is reading this that isn’t teachingirl – Cap’n is a former boss, or as I like to think of him, the big brother I never knew I always wanted. Anyhoo – he calls. He cares. He’s married and a long long ways away and doesn’t come to visit.
Curses and damnation to the telephone machine. It is because of you and your spite that I feel lonely. And unwanted.
PS –
Still haven’t been kissed. As melodramaculous as it may seem, who’s to say that I won’t ever be kissed again? Now that’s depressing!
Why is it that no one is around now, when I feel like I need people the most?
I was popular in high school, and after. When the phone rang, it was for me. Now I have a house, and my [abusive] man left me, and the phone never rings. I call my mom at least 3 times (after getting home from work) a night, just to have someone to tell stuff to. I say “tell stuff to” because that’s what it is. Its not that I need to talk (though I do) – I need to express myself, out loud and for reals.
Credit that “for reals” to teachingirl.
But she’s not there anymore either. I wish I could throw myself into this blog. I wish I could present dialectic arguments about my political beliefs versus that of the Evil Empire. I wish I could just puke out all this crap. But something is holding me back.
I want my phone to ring. So I spent 5 plus years with The Loser. At least then I always had plans, always had friends, the phone was always ringing… Was that because of him, and now that he’s gone, no one wants to talk to me. Not exactly, but sort of…
How do I do this? I’m so lonely. Am I really that selfish? As selfish as The Loser told me I am? Is it all about me? I don’t think so, but at the same time I need someone now. Someone to appreciate me. Someone who WANTS to talk to ME. I need my phone to ring, and have it be someone other than my mom. And I need to not drunk dial people, cause I always feel guilty – if they wanted to talk to me, they would call…
In all fairness, Cap’n called last night. Just on the off hand chance someone is reading this that isn’t teachingirl – Cap’n is a former boss, or as I like to think of him, the big brother I never knew I always wanted. Anyhoo – he calls. He cares. He’s married and a long long ways away and doesn’t come to visit.
Curses and damnation to the telephone machine. It is because of you and your spite that I feel lonely. And unwanted.
PS –
Still haven’t been kissed. As melodramaculous as it may seem, who’s to say that I won’t ever be kissed again? Now that’s depressing!
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Please help
If you haven't already, please go to One.org - see the link on the right hand side. If nothing more, please sign the delaration. As Bono says, "Where you live should not decide whether you live or whether you die..."
It only takes a second,
Thanks -
Seebo
Posting from work - I'm a badass!
I’ve been thinking a lot about an old roommate of mine lately. He sent me an email back in March just to see what’s up and give me access to his blog (shudder, god I hate that word.) I have yet to respond.
I don’t know why. I could share my (again, shudder) blog with him. Truth be told I don’t really know what to say to him. I don’t like the idea of people not liking me or understanding me. I’ve had a craptacular year, full of horrendous badness and stupid decisions, followed by a general malaise and quiet sense of worthlessness that I’m just now getting over… I don’t really want to get in to that with him. Am I still mad about the way things ended? I don’t think so. We’re all bad people, we’re all good people, it doesn’t matter who did what worse to whom… I really don’t care to re-visit that time. It was sad, as endings usually are. But I do care about this friend, actually found myself really missing him last weekend. Maybe I just miss feeling like I can or should reach back out. I don’t know. Maybe I do in fact “know”, and I just don’t want to.
Maybe I don’t want to be judged. Maybe I feel like he won’t be able to understand some of the things I’ve done or had to go through. I don’t know why it should matter, its not like my very existence hinges on his opinion of me. And just maybe he’s one of the ones who actually has a good opinion of me?
Its stupid, really. I should have just emailed him back instead of sitting on it for months on end. Clearly it’s a big deal to me, though I really don’t know why. Honestly. We’re still friends; I just don’t think he knows that. Then again, maybe I don’t want to tell him right now either. I hope he understands. I feel like I’m stepping out into the world again, a little more tarnished (but then again a little more worldly) and I don’t want anything to be more confusing than it already is. Not that our friendship was confusing. Well, I couldn’t relate to the Britney fascination, but that is of little consequence…
What to do? Send him this link? Why not.
I don’t know why. I could share my (again, shudder) blog with him. Truth be told I don’t really know what to say to him. I don’t like the idea of people not liking me or understanding me. I’ve had a craptacular year, full of horrendous badness and stupid decisions, followed by a general malaise and quiet sense of worthlessness that I’m just now getting over… I don’t really want to get in to that with him. Am I still mad about the way things ended? I don’t think so. We’re all bad people, we’re all good people, it doesn’t matter who did what worse to whom… I really don’t care to re-visit that time. It was sad, as endings usually are. But I do care about this friend, actually found myself really missing him last weekend. Maybe I just miss feeling like I can or should reach back out. I don’t know. Maybe I do in fact “know”, and I just don’t want to.
Maybe I don’t want to be judged. Maybe I feel like he won’t be able to understand some of the things I’ve done or had to go through. I don’t know why it should matter, its not like my very existence hinges on his opinion of me. And just maybe he’s one of the ones who actually has a good opinion of me?
Its stupid, really. I should have just emailed him back instead of sitting on it for months on end. Clearly it’s a big deal to me, though I really don’t know why. Honestly. We’re still friends; I just don’t think he knows that. Then again, maybe I don’t want to tell him right now either. I hope he understands. I feel like I’m stepping out into the world again, a little more tarnished (but then again a little more worldly) and I don’t want anything to be more confusing than it already is. Not that our friendship was confusing. Well, I couldn’t relate to the Britney fascination, but that is of little consequence…
What to do? Send him this link? Why not.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Pneumonia sucks BIG FAT ASS
Yes, yes it does.
The fever of 103 a week ago would have been fun - I mean, free delirium, who's not up fer that? Except I was getting fluids, via IV (when, I don't know about you, I prefer to drink my fluids) - which means a needle in the arm. Forgive the punctuation - I'm still a little delirious...
I had sex with Gaylord last weekend. Read him what I wrote - he didn't get it. Well, to be fair, he got some of it, and I don't remember the rest, but it’s easier to think that he just didn't get it. Stupid sexy man. I think so, thousands don't - so he should be flattered...
This entry is not to take it out on poor Gaylord; he knows not what he does...
I just hope I didn't make him sick. I know I wasn't contagious at that point, but I wouldn't wish this on anyone. I can't even squeak today. I lay in bed this morning and my cats loved it - because the wheezing from my bronchiole sounded like purring.
Gaylord - you probably still are a heartless bastard who sucks, but I'm sorry if I was rough on ya. The fact is, I may just be out of your league, and not the other way around. Imagine that. Huh....
So sick. So tired of the cold sweats, so tired of the wheezing. I think I'm gonna go get me some Brokeback Mountain, that will make me feel better -
Oooooh - post scruptum,
In my sicky delirium I had a dream about Aidan (Sex in the City's Aidan) - he kept trying to ask me to marry him whilst carrying me on his shoulders, and, well, lets just keep that to myself for a moment... It was amazing. Women, you know what I'm taking about. Thank god for dreams when life lets you down!)
Love you lovelies for reading, though only one lovely currently does...
Seebo and her phlegm
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Was I too hard on Gaylord?
Cause he fucked me all good (well, long story - and this is not meant to be a bad thing for Gaylord) - on Sunday...
He listenend to what I wrote... He sheilded my head from bumpin', if you will, maybe thats a nice guy thing,...
Hes not a bad guy, After reading him my post, he was all, you wanna be kissed...
Yes, YES, but not necessarily by you, Gaylord. By someone who wants to.
Gah, I don't know. What does he want from me? Not enough, I can offer a lot more. He'll never get it, and its his loss, and not mine, but
I'd love to love him. Only if he really wants me to. I'm not a total idiot.
He listenend to what I wrote... He sheilded my head from bumpin', if you will, maybe thats a nice guy thing,...
Hes not a bad guy, After reading him my post, he was all, you wanna be kissed...
Yes, YES, but not necessarily by you, Gaylord. By someone who wants to.
Gah, I don't know. What does he want from me? Not enough, I can offer a lot more. He'll never get it, and its his loss, and not mine, but
I'd love to love him. Only if he really wants me to. I'm not a total idiot.
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