On a somewhat lighter and brighter note than the last two posts:
It's New Year's Eve!!!
Soon we'll all be saying 'hello' to a bright new year AND decade. (Right? These things confuse me, I'm also bad at roman numerals...)
I'll be working tonight, which kind of sucks because I wont be able hang out with my loves, but I'll be paying rent in the morning, so that's a plus. Sorry kids, I adore you, but apparently not as much as my landlord adores taking my money!!
(I always feel like I'm being fake when I use '!'. I think it's because I so rarely vocalize this sort of excitment in real life).
I hope everyone has plenty of fun tonight, and stays safe. That's the most important part. I'd rather all my friends have horrible, awful nights and be safe than have too much of a good time and die. Hey, we've all got priorities.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Session Two
The WOMAN lets herself in through the back door. The GIRL is in the kitchen fixing two cups of tea, one with sugar, one without. GIRL enters into the living room to meet the WOMAN, who sits in her previous chair.
GIRL:
There's a woman somewhere. Somewhere near, or maybe not. I don't know. She is young, beautiful, and a widow. Her husband died in a car wreck, on his way home from working late. The Widow hates herself for thinking he was having an affair. She was going to confront him about his 'late work' and missed phone calls. She was going to do it that weekend. But he died instead. Right now it is snowing where she is. It's cold, but the air is still. It's been a week since they put her Groom in the ground. She walks around the house, carrying an icy mug of coffee. It used to be warm, but she can't bring herself to drink, she just goes through the motions of life, of humanity. The Widow wanders from empty room to empty room. She hasn't slept in her bed since he died. Sometimes she lies there, on her side of the mattress, just staring at his pillow, still holding the shape of his head. The blankets are still formed around the empty nest he formed for himself the night before he left. Widow should have made the bed in the morining, but was too upset about the hypothetical affair. Now she lies still in her cold bed, staring at the nest of sheets and blankets. The bed feels cold in the stillest way. Widow thinks she may be able to snap the corners of his pillowcase clean off, if only she had the strenght to reach out and try. She lifts her arm and stretches her fingers, but finds herself unable to cross the invisable lines of his body. Tears come to her eyes, but never fall, catching themselves in her eyelashes and swimming there instead.
The Widow sits in her home, where time has no hold and sips from glasses her Groom left around the house. Her lips settle to cover the spaces where his did. Even when the glasses are emptied of their dusty water she still does this. Her small ritual to remember not just his mouth, the way his lips formed not only for kisses but for the simple, necessary act of drinking water. She does this to remember that he was alive and in need of hydration. He was, but he is no longer. The widow breathes the scent of him from stale clothes. She wears his socks when she naps on the couch. She checks her voicemail obsessively, only to listen to his old messages.
GIRL:
There's a woman somewhere. Somewhere near, or maybe not. I don't know. She is young, beautiful, and a widow. Her husband died in a car wreck, on his way home from working late. The Widow hates herself for thinking he was having an affair. She was going to confront him about his 'late work' and missed phone calls. She was going to do it that weekend. But he died instead. Right now it is snowing where she is. It's cold, but the air is still. It's been a week since they put her Groom in the ground. She walks around the house, carrying an icy mug of coffee. It used to be warm, but she can't bring herself to drink, she just goes through the motions of life, of humanity. The Widow wanders from empty room to empty room. She hasn't slept in her bed since he died. Sometimes she lies there, on her side of the mattress, just staring at his pillow, still holding the shape of his head. The blankets are still formed around the empty nest he formed for himself the night before he left. Widow should have made the bed in the morining, but was too upset about the hypothetical affair. Now she lies still in her cold bed, staring at the nest of sheets and blankets. The bed feels cold in the stillest way. Widow thinks she may be able to snap the corners of his pillowcase clean off, if only she had the strenght to reach out and try. She lifts her arm and stretches her fingers, but finds herself unable to cross the invisable lines of his body. Tears come to her eyes, but never fall, catching themselves in her eyelashes and swimming there instead.
The Widow sits in her home, where time has no hold and sips from glasses her Groom left around the house. Her lips settle to cover the spaces where his did. Even when the glasses are emptied of their dusty water she still does this. Her small ritual to remember not just his mouth, the way his lips formed not only for kisses but for the simple, necessary act of drinking water. She does this to remember that he was alive and in need of hydration. He was, but he is no longer. The widow breathes the scent of him from stale clothes. She wears his socks when she naps on the couch. She checks her voicemail obsessively, only to listen to his old messages.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Maggie Macgill
or maybe its mcgill. i dont know and im much to absorbed to look at the track title. Michael, you have no idea what you're missing. this is fantastic. i dont recommend it, but i love it. such is my life. c'est la vie and all that.
i'm in love.
with just one boy. man.
jim morrison.
i was for certain born in the wrong time period.
i'm in love.
with just one boy. man.
jim morrison.
i was for certain born in the wrong time period.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Bones need Flesh
Usually I reserve stuff like this for another arena, but here are the bones of a story I am looking to write. Maybe. I can't decide and I haven't gotten far, but I like the concept and I think it's going to be one of those things that I won't stop dreaming until I finish it. Anyway, here goes nothing:
We open on two people sitting in an unkempt living room. The GIRL sits opposite the WOMAN. The WOMAN is clearly out of place, but tries to look comfortable. Perhaps it is her estranged mother or step-mother. As GIRL speaks, we, the audience, catch visual glimpses of what she describes. The GIRL begins to speak.
"You wanna know the story? Okay. Okay, here's a story. There's this girl, see, and she decides to go out to the club with a few of her girlfriends. They're having fun, having a good time. Drinking. Dancing. But then her friends get tired and they want to leave. The girl, though, she doesn't want to leave, she's having too much fun and she just met these guys who say they know an afterparty. And the girl, the girl just really wants to go. So, so she says goodbye to her friends and tells them she'll call when she gets there and she'll call when she gets home. Nothing shady if everyone is informed, right? Right say the friends, and they leave. Girl has a drink, has another drink and has another drink and pretty soon she can't see so good, can't walk so good. The guys she's with though, they seem real nice and they offer to take her on home. Poor thing can't drive, not in this condition. So she gets in the car and she calls the girlfriends, but it's late and they don't answer. The girl is still together enough to know this aint the way home, this aint where she lives, so she calls her guy friends, 'cause, you know, a girl all alone needs some backup. She calls and calls and leaves messages without remembering she hit 'dial'. But it's late and they don't answer. She seems antsy so the guys give her another drink. Then the girl can't remember anything. She's asleep and then she's awake and it's cold and it's damp and dark and it smells moldy. She catches conversation before she falls asleep again.
"...out cold..."
"..then?"
"....dump her....done"
"Overdose?"
"Does....matter, really?"
"...one for the road.."
And then she's awake and she's in someones arms and the ground is frosty, crunching under his feet. Sleep. Awake. Pavement and weeds. A parking lot? She's awake now and lost and only has one shoe. Her clutch is there, but no money, no I.D. Her phone lost somewhere in the grass. She gets up and walks toward the lights lining the road. She can't really see and she can't really walk and she stumbles like a zombie. She tries to close her mouth, but her lips are cut and swollen. All that registers is the iron taste of blood.
"Holy shit, is that Abby!?" the red headed boy in the car asks his driver. "Stop, stop, we've gotta get her!"
A car drives by, slams on its brakes and reverses back to the girl. She doesn't stop walking even when Norris, a boy she's met a few times thru some mutual guy friends, jumps out of the passanger seat and grabs her.
"Ab? Ab? What happened, oh my god oh my god, what happened to you?"
The girl doesn't respond, she can't really hear him anyway, her mind is a million places and none of them are on earth. Norris hauls her to the car, places her in the backseat and wipes some of the blood from her face. When he offers her a bottle of water, she starts to cry.
"What d'we do? Hospital?"
The girl screams, the only word she can form is 'No'.
"No, not the hospital"
Norris doesn't want to get in trouble, doesn't want to get the girl in trouble, not until he knows what happened, but he don't really know her, so he decided to bring her to her friends house. The place where they met a few times thru their mutual guy friends.
Norris rushes into the house, holding the once again unconcious girl in his arms. His friend the driver follows closely behind.
"Neil! Jesse! Where are you?"
Neil and Jesse run into the living room.
"What the fuck? What happened? Is she okay?"
Norris explains the situation and the girl begins to wake up again. Jesse holds a towel to the back of her head, trying to stop the bleeding. They get her to drink some water and then put in a the bath, running hot water over her clothes. When the water turns red, they drain it and Neil strips the silent and complient girl to her bra and underwear then dresses her in his own clothes. They put her to bed. In the morning the white pillow cases of Neil's bed are brown with dried blood and the girl is gone. They find her by following her whimpering. She has curled up in the corner of Neil's closet and refuses to move. Her hands are bleeding where her fingernails have bitten into the flesh of her palms. She looks up at the boys, asks for a trashcan. They provide and she empties her stomach. The boys back up and she closes the door on them."
The WOMAN has grown increasingly uncomfortable throughout the GIRL'S tale. The WOMAN gets up to leave and is only stopped by the GIRL'S words.
"Be sure to drop by next week to find out what happens to our brave herione."
The WOMAN exits.
We open on two people sitting in an unkempt living room. The GIRL sits opposite the WOMAN. The WOMAN is clearly out of place, but tries to look comfortable. Perhaps it is her estranged mother or step-mother. As GIRL speaks, we, the audience, catch visual glimpses of what she describes. The GIRL begins to speak.
"You wanna know the story? Okay. Okay, here's a story. There's this girl, see, and she decides to go out to the club with a few of her girlfriends. They're having fun, having a good time. Drinking. Dancing. But then her friends get tired and they want to leave. The girl, though, she doesn't want to leave, she's having too much fun and she just met these guys who say they know an afterparty. And the girl, the girl just really wants to go. So, so she says goodbye to her friends and tells them she'll call when she gets there and she'll call when she gets home. Nothing shady if everyone is informed, right? Right say the friends, and they leave. Girl has a drink, has another drink and has another drink and pretty soon she can't see so good, can't walk so good. The guys she's with though, they seem real nice and they offer to take her on home. Poor thing can't drive, not in this condition. So she gets in the car and she calls the girlfriends, but it's late and they don't answer. The girl is still together enough to know this aint the way home, this aint where she lives, so she calls her guy friends, 'cause, you know, a girl all alone needs some backup. She calls and calls and leaves messages without remembering she hit 'dial'. But it's late and they don't answer. She seems antsy so the guys give her another drink. Then the girl can't remember anything. She's asleep and then she's awake and it's cold and it's damp and dark and it smells moldy. She catches conversation before she falls asleep again.
"...out cold..."
"..then?"
"....dump her....done"
"Overdose?"
"Does....matter, really?"
"...one for the road.."
And then she's awake and she's in someones arms and the ground is frosty, crunching under his feet. Sleep. Awake. Pavement and weeds. A parking lot? She's awake now and lost and only has one shoe. Her clutch is there, but no money, no I.D. Her phone lost somewhere in the grass. She gets up and walks toward the lights lining the road. She can't really see and she can't really walk and she stumbles like a zombie. She tries to close her mouth, but her lips are cut and swollen. All that registers is the iron taste of blood.
"Holy shit, is that Abby!?" the red headed boy in the car asks his driver. "Stop, stop, we've gotta get her!"
A car drives by, slams on its brakes and reverses back to the girl. She doesn't stop walking even when Norris, a boy she's met a few times thru some mutual guy friends, jumps out of the passanger seat and grabs her.
"Ab? Ab? What happened, oh my god oh my god, what happened to you?"
The girl doesn't respond, she can't really hear him anyway, her mind is a million places and none of them are on earth. Norris hauls her to the car, places her in the backseat and wipes some of the blood from her face. When he offers her a bottle of water, she starts to cry.
"What d'we do? Hospital?"
The girl screams, the only word she can form is 'No'.
"No, not the hospital"
Norris doesn't want to get in trouble, doesn't want to get the girl in trouble, not until he knows what happened, but he don't really know her, so he decided to bring her to her friends house. The place where they met a few times thru their mutual guy friends.
Norris rushes into the house, holding the once again unconcious girl in his arms. His friend the driver follows closely behind.
"Neil! Jesse! Where are you?"
Neil and Jesse run into the living room.
"What the fuck? What happened? Is she okay?"
Norris explains the situation and the girl begins to wake up again. Jesse holds a towel to the back of her head, trying to stop the bleeding. They get her to drink some water and then put in a the bath, running hot water over her clothes. When the water turns red, they drain it and Neil strips the silent and complient girl to her bra and underwear then dresses her in his own clothes. They put her to bed. In the morning the white pillow cases of Neil's bed are brown with dried blood and the girl is gone. They find her by following her whimpering. She has curled up in the corner of Neil's closet and refuses to move. Her hands are bleeding where her fingernails have bitten into the flesh of her palms. She looks up at the boys, asks for a trashcan. They provide and she empties her stomach. The boys back up and she closes the door on them."
The WOMAN has grown increasingly uncomfortable throughout the GIRL'S tale. The WOMAN gets up to leave and is only stopped by the GIRL'S words.
"Be sure to drop by next week to find out what happens to our brave herione."
The WOMAN exits.
Monday, December 21, 2009
so i don't forget
That's the thing about love. It demands information. We will break your teeth out to get it, and then we will feed them back to you.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Won't you tell me your name?
Things I do not have:
Long hair
A flat iron
A tan
Fake nails
Ed Hardy anything
Spare money
A sports car
A boyfriend with a sports car
A real job
Bronzer
Things I do have:
A job(ish)
Good friends
Solid family
Sense of self
Spell check
Ambition (for better or worse)
A clean room
A (relatively) clear mind
Things I want:
More money
Spare time
.
.
.
That's about it really. I've got what I need and I love it. Peace Johnny, we're doing fine.
Long hair
A flat iron
A tan
Fake nails
Ed Hardy anything
Spare money
A sports car
A boyfriend with a sports car
A real job
Bronzer
Things I do have:
A job(ish)
Good friends
Solid family
Sense of self
Spell check
Ambition (for better or worse)
A clean room
A (relatively) clear mind
Things I want:
More money
Spare time
.
.
.
That's about it really. I've got what I need and I love it. Peace Johnny, we're doing fine.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Thanksgiving!!
I am excited for Turkey day.
I am not excited for the 4 hour drive home.
S-U-C-K
But, home is family and food and pets and sleep.
Ah, home.
H-O-M-E
I am not excited for the 4 hour drive home.
S-U-C-K
But, home is family and food and pets and sleep.
Ah, home.
H-O-M-E
Monday, November 16, 2009
Hello, I love you
I am waiting for someone to make me feel alive again.
That's how I used to think anyway. That I'm not whole or relevant without someone breathing into me. Dust, ya' know? Do you understand what that is like? To spend your time, all your days, waiting for someone outside of your being to make you alive? You probably do. I felt that way about a boy, once upon a time. I felt that way about a God. About church, Art, (Art), friends, family, an empty page and a bottle of ink. I felt that way once.
That was not so long ago, and the road is long and winding. But. But, I need exactly me. I am who I was meant to be. People, faith, relationships help build you, aim you toward discoveries. But I am convinced that these discoveries would be made one way or another. You are who you are meant to become. I know that sounds selfish and that is not my intent. Of course I love those relationships, of course I adore my people and they have given me everything, shaped every smile and quirk and tear and wrinkle. And I owe them for it, but I think we may have been meant to become who we are anyhow. Is this faithless? Is this reminisent of a belief in pre-destiny? I don't know. All I'm completly aware of is that I am going to need only me for now. Not to say I don't need the others, I certainly do, but I don't need them in order to be me. Yep, this is the plan. Yep, this is a lie. Probably...
That's how I used to think anyway. That I'm not whole or relevant without someone breathing into me. Dust, ya' know? Do you understand what that is like? To spend your time, all your days, waiting for someone outside of your being to make you alive? You probably do. I felt that way about a boy, once upon a time. I felt that way about a God. About church, Art, (Art), friends, family, an empty page and a bottle of ink. I felt that way once.
That was not so long ago, and the road is long and winding. But. But, I need exactly me. I am who I was meant to be. People, faith, relationships help build you, aim you toward discoveries. But I am convinced that these discoveries would be made one way or another. You are who you are meant to become. I know that sounds selfish and that is not my intent. Of course I love those relationships, of course I adore my people and they have given me everything, shaped every smile and quirk and tear and wrinkle. And I owe them for it, but I think we may have been meant to become who we are anyhow. Is this faithless? Is this reminisent of a belief in pre-destiny? I don't know. All I'm completly aware of is that I am going to need only me for now. Not to say I don't need the others, I certainly do, but I don't need them in order to be me. Yep, this is the plan. Yep, this is a lie. Probably...
Friday, October 30, 2009
Reasons I am tired
Working for the weekend? I don't get one of those, it's work on the weekend
Sleep? Bah, I don't need your nightmares
Caffeine keeps me running, but it keeps the mind running too
Obligations.
Dying friendships
Dying friends
Too much fun (unrelated to the dying things)
So much to do
Homework?
Sleep? Bah, I don't need your nightmares
Caffeine keeps me running, but it keeps the mind running too
Obligations.
Dying friendships
Dying friends
Too much fun (unrelated to the dying things)
So much to do
Homework?
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Dear Grape Beast
Car,
I've had you for a long time now, and I like to think I take pretty good care of you. I buy you gas, fill up your tires... Sure, I take you for some pretty long drives, but never without making sure you have all the coolant and oil your little machine heart could desire! So Car, why Car, are you dying? It seems like you're just falling apart by bits. First, the brake dust guard you decided to drag around for a week, then the two blown tires, now this? I only wanted to rent a movie, and blockbuster is too far to walk. Why wont you start? Do you like looking at the new releases posters that much? Come on baby, come on home!
love,
your driver
I've had you for a long time now, and I like to think I take pretty good care of you. I buy you gas, fill up your tires... Sure, I take you for some pretty long drives, but never without making sure you have all the coolant and oil your little machine heart could desire! So Car, why Car, are you dying? It seems like you're just falling apart by bits. First, the brake dust guard you decided to drag around for a week, then the two blown tires, now this? I only wanted to rent a movie, and blockbuster is too far to walk. Why wont you start? Do you like looking at the new releases posters that much? Come on baby, come on home!
love,
your driver
Monday, October 19, 2009
Chekov
This extended weekend I:
slept in my bed once
ate sushi
watched 'where the wild things are'
got my friends drunk
worked
learned a new song
worked
jumped on beds
slept it off
locomoted around a store using only the joints in my ankles
fell down the stairs
fell off the couch
watched Dexter
stole a phone
smoked cigars
drove around, windows down, heat on
made plans
broke plans
dance danced
smashed super bros
wore boots
cleaned rooms
loved friends
slept in my bed once
ate sushi
watched 'where the wild things are'
got my friends drunk
worked
learned a new song
worked
jumped on beds
slept it off
locomoted around a store using only the joints in my ankles
fell down the stairs
fell off the couch
watched Dexter
stole a phone
smoked cigars
drove around, windows down, heat on
made plans
broke plans
dance danced
smashed super bros
wore boots
cleaned rooms
loved friends
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Wordlings
I love words too much to waste them, yet will stumble haphazzardly thru a thousand to find the right combination.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
My Violet Hill
I had something specific in mind when I sat down to write this, but now, of course, it elludes me.
Damn.
I guess I'll just go where the words take me then.
I think I'm going to put some tortillas in the oven and see if I can make my own chips.
I don't want to go to those parties anymore. I'm all responsibility and no fun. It's gotten to the point that I envy the other kids their fun because they're rocking out and I can't get into it. It's actually a pretty hard loss. But. I think I'd rather take your company in larger, more private doses. I'm really one of your friends, dear boys, and not just some chick at your party. Although that does cut down on the liklihood of being one of your shameless hookups, well, that's kind of a plus now, isn't it?
I don't know why, but this letter, to me, seems to be taking a rather melodramatic twist. How unfortunate. I cannot properly express my love for all my Loves.
I was talking to my wonderful roommate Liz, the other day and we spoke on the matter of friendships. How, for example, there are many kinds of friendship and many ways in which to express it. The two of us tend to express our caring and our love through Service. There are few things that I enjoy more than doing something to help out one of my friends. Or, not even help, just doing something nice. Renting you that movie, burning you that cd, buying you lunch. Making you dinner. Helping you clean. It just brings me joy and brings me closer to my loves.
However,
there are times when it can wear one a little thin. If it is expected. If it is overlooked. If it is unappreciated. Then it's much less fun and there's much less love. I've seen how it wears on people. I've seen that horrible look in a friend's eyes when something they really invested in is skimmed over or tossed aside.
What I'm really trying to say is this:
I love you.
Yes,
dear reader,
You.
Also, don't put your presents in the freezer. It's rude.
Damn.
I guess I'll just go where the words take me then.
I think I'm going to put some tortillas in the oven and see if I can make my own chips.
I don't want to go to those parties anymore. I'm all responsibility and no fun. It's gotten to the point that I envy the other kids their fun because they're rocking out and I can't get into it. It's actually a pretty hard loss. But. I think I'd rather take your company in larger, more private doses. I'm really one of your friends, dear boys, and not just some chick at your party. Although that does cut down on the liklihood of being one of your shameless hookups, well, that's kind of a plus now, isn't it?
I don't know why, but this letter, to me, seems to be taking a rather melodramatic twist. How unfortunate. I cannot properly express my love for all my Loves.
I was talking to my wonderful roommate Liz, the other day and we spoke on the matter of friendships. How, for example, there are many kinds of friendship and many ways in which to express it. The two of us tend to express our caring and our love through Service. There are few things that I enjoy more than doing something to help out one of my friends. Or, not even help, just doing something nice. Renting you that movie, burning you that cd, buying you lunch. Making you dinner. Helping you clean. It just brings me joy and brings me closer to my loves.
However,
there are times when it can wear one a little thin. If it is expected. If it is overlooked. If it is unappreciated. Then it's much less fun and there's much less love. I've seen how it wears on people. I've seen that horrible look in a friend's eyes when something they really invested in is skimmed over or tossed aside.
What I'm really trying to say is this:
I love you.
Yes,
dear reader,
You.
Also, don't put your presents in the freezer. It's rude.
Monday, August 24, 2009
So, I've been thinking and pondering and pandering lately and it turns out that the majority of my friends (who are my age) are getting married. Or are at least in serious, committed, we'll-be-married-by-the-end-of-the-year type relationships. Which is great.
If you're into that sort of thing.
The turning point of this here blog happens now, as it turns out, I am, in fact, not into that sort of thing. Not at all.
However,
it does make one think about thier own dubious relationship status when everyone around you is seeking lifelong bliss thru holy matrimony.
Don't get me wrong, I've nothing against marriage, I've only a few things against 'love' and I've zero against tax breaks. But, if that's the headliner on why I want a relationship, well, I may need to re-think things.
I was facebooking, like you do, and I happened upon an old flame, as it were, who just got married. Honeymoon in the bahamas and everything. Such a dream. For me, it turns out to be only the stuff of pipes. This kid, (let's pretend you don't know him) was supposed to lead me around on the white sandy beaches of "Sandals Resort". HAHAHA. Thank God for those small blessings, eh?
Anyway, all these folks are pairing off, and while I don't think there's anything wrong with me, I do wonder what all the fuss is about.
If you're into that sort of thing.
The turning point of this here blog happens now, as it turns out, I am, in fact, not into that sort of thing. Not at all.
However,
it does make one think about thier own dubious relationship status when everyone around you is seeking lifelong bliss thru holy matrimony.
Don't get me wrong, I've nothing against marriage, I've only a few things against 'love' and I've zero against tax breaks. But, if that's the headliner on why I want a relationship, well, I may need to re-think things.
I was facebooking, like you do, and I happened upon an old flame, as it were, who just got married. Honeymoon in the bahamas and everything. Such a dream. For me, it turns out to be only the stuff of pipes. This kid, (let's pretend you don't know him) was supposed to lead me around on the white sandy beaches of "Sandals Resort". HAHAHA. Thank God for those small blessings, eh?
Anyway, all these folks are pairing off, and while I don't think there's anything wrong with me, I do wonder what all the fuss is about.
Monday, August 3, 2009
There's something here, something that needs to be said, needs to be let go, but it's all wrapped up in there. All twisted and digging into the coils of my brain. It's one of those days where the backspace key is the one i hit the most because my fingers can't correctly keep up with the trip my brain is taking. Things have been shady, but it's only because of the light that there are ever shadows.
"If you wanna be their friend, be honest and un-merciful"
"Rock and roll can save the world, the chicks are great. I sound like a dick!"
Okay, so that last one didn't have a thing to do with a thing, but it's something I wanted to write. Because it's awesome. I have no moods these days. At the beginning of this page, I'm all emo and dark and then, two sentences ago, things are awesome. What the eff. Who the eff is this kid, this girl, this silly thing? Hahahaha
I don't know.
You don't know.
You don't know who you are!
That reminds me of a mewithoutyou song, but I can't remember the lyrics. I sound like a crazy person. This happens sometimes when i need to write. i just write the things that come up, they dont make sense, maybe, later, if i think any of it was any good i'll go back and dig some stuff out and add capitals (capitols?) {I think it's with an a} and puncutation. Do you see what happened there? i got all caught up in that shiz i was writing that i lost all sense of grammar. It comes and goes. like that. see? Did it again. hahahahahahaaaaa
I.am.a.crazy.person
i/am/a/writer
There's this sense of restlessness in the air for me right now. i want to travel, i want to eat, i want to write. but i dont want to work for any of that to happen. i guessi grew up dreaming that if i wanted something badly enough it would just sort of happen for/to me. i think it stems from the following incident:
I'm 6 or so years old and i'm at this christmas crafts fair (my mahmaw {mom} used to make stuff to sell and people ate that shit up!) and i really really really want this hand painted wooden cut out of a rocking horse. some old lady was selling them. i wanted it soooo bad. you have no idea. we mature adults never want things the way kids do. sure, we want things in a different, more hormonal way, but it's not stronger. not stronger, just deeper. grosser. (more gross?)
anyhow, i wanted that cheap little ornament, but my mom wouldn't give me the cash and my dad said i could have money, but only for a hotdog. actually, i think that's a lie. i don't remember my dad being there that day. i think he was at work. maybe. or he was sleeping. the night shift, you know? SO. I'm looking at this rocking horse with my pockets turned out and i'm conciously letting this old bird know i want this thing. she notices me looking, picking it up, turning it about, making it gallop down the display. and i remember, i swear this is true, i remember thinking, if i look cute enough, she'll give me this horse.
and she did.
she gave me that fucking horse because i was 'such a sweet, cute little girl'
sucker.
but really, that old lady ruined my work ethic.
"If you wanna be their friend, be honest and un-merciful"
"Rock and roll can save the world, the chicks are great. I sound like a dick!"
Okay, so that last one didn't have a thing to do with a thing, but it's something I wanted to write. Because it's awesome. I have no moods these days. At the beginning of this page, I'm all emo and dark and then, two sentences ago, things are awesome. What the eff. Who the eff is this kid, this girl, this silly thing? Hahahaha
I don't know.
You don't know.
You don't know who you are!
That reminds me of a mewithoutyou song, but I can't remember the lyrics. I sound like a crazy person. This happens sometimes when i need to write. i just write the things that come up, they dont make sense, maybe, later, if i think any of it was any good i'll go back and dig some stuff out and add capitals (capitols?) {I think it's with an a} and puncutation. Do you see what happened there? i got all caught up in that shiz i was writing that i lost all sense of grammar. It comes and goes. like that. see? Did it again. hahahahahahaaaaa
I.am.a.crazy.person
i/am/a/writer
There's this sense of restlessness in the air for me right now. i want to travel, i want to eat, i want to write. but i dont want to work for any of that to happen. i guessi grew up dreaming that if i wanted something badly enough it would just sort of happen for/to me. i think it stems from the following incident:
I'm 6 or so years old and i'm at this christmas crafts fair (my mahmaw {mom} used to make stuff to sell and people ate that shit up!) and i really really really want this hand painted wooden cut out of a rocking horse. some old lady was selling them. i wanted it soooo bad. you have no idea. we mature adults never want things the way kids do. sure, we want things in a different, more hormonal way, but it's not stronger. not stronger, just deeper. grosser. (more gross?)
anyhow, i wanted that cheap little ornament, but my mom wouldn't give me the cash and my dad said i could have money, but only for a hotdog. actually, i think that's a lie. i don't remember my dad being there that day. i think he was at work. maybe. or he was sleeping. the night shift, you know? SO. I'm looking at this rocking horse with my pockets turned out and i'm conciously letting this old bird know i want this thing. she notices me looking, picking it up, turning it about, making it gallop down the display. and i remember, i swear this is true, i remember thinking, if i look cute enough, she'll give me this horse.
and she did.
she gave me that fucking horse because i was 'such a sweet, cute little girl'
sucker.
but really, that old lady ruined my work ethic.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Time to Stop
treating my body like shit. Turns out, I like my life, I like being alive, I like my little temple here on zee earth. So that makes it time to stop:
Drinking so much (so often)
Smoking
Eating fast food so much (so often)
Staying up ridiculously late
Sleeping all day
And now it is time to start:
Working out (more often)
Investing in a wardrobe (fewer men's shirts)
Learning to cook
Eating right
Making time
Drinking so much (so often)
Smoking
Eating fast food so much (so often)
Staying up ridiculously late
Sleeping all day
And now it is time to start:
Working out (more often)
Investing in a wardrobe (fewer men's shirts)
Learning to cook
Eating right
Making time
Monday, July 20, 2009
Oh Dear God
I make mistakes. I say dumb things. But Dear God is there to make it all go away, right?
Right.
Sorry.
Right.
Sorry.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Things I don't want to do
1)Put on makeup
2)Go to work
3)Clean my car
4)Pretend to be nice
5)Stick to my budget
But I will do them because:
1)I'm husband hunting
2)I need money
3)It's kinda smelly
4)I need to win
5)I need the monies to get to LA so I can meet, seduce, and marry Paul Rudd
2)Go to work
3)Clean my car
4)Pretend to be nice
5)Stick to my budget
But I will do them because:
1)I'm husband hunting
2)I need money
3)It's kinda smelly
4)I need to win
5)I need the monies to get to LA so I can meet, seduce, and marry Paul Rudd
Friday, July 17, 2009
Mi mi mi mind
I've been doing a lot of sitting on the balcony and thinking today. It's so so nice out. No humidity for once this summer. So, I've been sitting and thinking and writing and napping. All good things. My head is getting a littler clearer for it, and my heart a little lighter.
I try to keep things pretty surface over here at Special Homecoming Outlaws, I need some lightness in my world of words, so I'll try not to go into too much right now.
But
Sitting in the sun and thinking about the coincidences in the past couple of days in my life has really, really, I don't know, given me something. I'm not sure what this is. Good, I think, but unusual. I've made some pretty shoddy decisions lately, and said some pretty stupid things, which I regret. In the moments that they're are said or done, it doesn't seem to matter, like it's some alternative world and I will in no way be held responsible for my actions. My words.
Which is a shame because it's a lie. And a waste of perfectly good words. As Hope would say, 'it's like the words are dying...' oh emo.
I really am getting better. The cold jealousy that starts in your belly and runs to your heart, that's going away. I'm feeling much less like a gutted fish when I look at you. My face no longer burns with what I want to say and my heart has stopped skipping when you walk into the room.
I know now that I love him, but no more than I've ever loved the others. And while that could be quite a bit,
it's not.
I try to keep things pretty surface over here at Special Homecoming Outlaws, I need some lightness in my world of words, so I'll try not to go into too much right now.
But
Sitting in the sun and thinking about the coincidences in the past couple of days in my life has really, really, I don't know, given me something. I'm not sure what this is. Good, I think, but unusual. I've made some pretty shoddy decisions lately, and said some pretty stupid things, which I regret. In the moments that they're are said or done, it doesn't seem to matter, like it's some alternative world and I will in no way be held responsible for my actions. My words.
Which is a shame because it's a lie. And a waste of perfectly good words. As Hope would say, 'it's like the words are dying...' oh emo.
I really am getting better. The cold jealousy that starts in your belly and runs to your heart, that's going away. I'm feeling much less like a gutted fish when I look at you. My face no longer burns with what I want to say and my heart has stopped skipping when you walk into the room.
I know now that I love him, but no more than I've ever loved the others. And while that could be quite a bit,
it's not.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Summer Skin
I cannot keep my skin from peeling off. That's how I know my summer is going well. Usually, I'm pale as sin and don't get sun at all. Not that there's anything wrong with that, it's my norm. But but but, this summer, I've been getting out and about a lot. Float trip, pool-side time, balcony writing. Good things, good things.
However, I look like a lizard person and it's not cute.
Such is the price.
However, I look like a lizard person and it's not cute.
Such is the price.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Frozen Custard and Death
what a lovely combination. I guess this happened yesterday, but little sleep gets me confused on my dates sometimes. I went to Andy's on a whim with my roommate. You may know him, Cole Bryant? Anyway, he's alright I guess.
So, we went to Andy's and I got complimented on my dress. That was nice.
We spent most of our time eating aforementioned custard and talking about death. I'm sure this conversation was sparked by the fesitval that was M.Jackson's memorial service. I decided that I want to be cremated. This is something I've mentioned before, but I really got to thinking about it. I'm an organ donor already, (but I'd like to keep my skin and eyes, thank you very much. I know I wont need them when you burn up my body, but it's just that I really don't want someone buffalo-billing me alright?). But, after that, what to do? I don't really wanna become something else someone has to dust once a week. And, urns are expensive. So I guess just plant a tree or something and mix me into the dirt. Ah, to become fertilizer...
Yeah, do that. Anyone who happens to read this, if I die soon have me cremated and plant a tree in me. In a graveyard though, cause I don't want to get cut down or have some stupid kid fall out of my future branches. Dumb kids, always climbing dead people trees.
So, we went to Andy's and I got complimented on my dress. That was nice.
We spent most of our time eating aforementioned custard and talking about death. I'm sure this conversation was sparked by the fesitval that was M.Jackson's memorial service. I decided that I want to be cremated. This is something I've mentioned before, but I really got to thinking about it. I'm an organ donor already, (but I'd like to keep my skin and eyes, thank you very much. I know I wont need them when you burn up my body, but it's just that I really don't want someone buffalo-billing me alright?). But, after that, what to do? I don't really wanna become something else someone has to dust once a week. And, urns are expensive. So I guess just plant a tree or something and mix me into the dirt. Ah, to become fertilizer...
Yeah, do that. Anyone who happens to read this, if I die soon have me cremated and plant a tree in me. In a graveyard though, cause I don't want to get cut down or have some stupid kid fall out of my future branches. Dumb kids, always climbing dead people trees.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
lazy summer days
I've had two days off in a row. It's been amazing. Right now I'm sipping my coffee, writing this, listening to music, making plans and catching up with old friends. the roomies are all gone so, I'm lounging about in my bathrobe. What a life. I think I may work out and shower later. Go to the pool. Read. I really like my life
Some things I am looking forward to:
1) Canoeing this weekend. I've never been and am excited. Also, I really want to spend some good goof-off time with all the kids.
2) Mewithoutyou concert in Lawrence. I hope I can get the day off of work because this will be amazing. the new album is like nothing i have ever heard before and I am obsessed with 'King beetle on a coconut estate'
3) July 4th. I have no idea what I'm doing, but hopefully I'll be in St. Joe with the family. I haven't seen the boys in a very long time. Maybe I'll stop in Cameron and visit my mom and nana too, havent seen them since Christmas. That's far too long.
4) Grocery Shopping. I'm so hungry.
5) L.A
Some things I am looking forward to:
1) Canoeing this weekend. I've never been and am excited. Also, I really want to spend some good goof-off time with all the kids.
2) Mewithoutyou concert in Lawrence. I hope I can get the day off of work because this will be amazing. the new album is like nothing i have ever heard before and I am obsessed with 'King beetle on a coconut estate'
3) July 4th. I have no idea what I'm doing, but hopefully I'll be in St. Joe with the family. I haven't seen the boys in a very long time. Maybe I'll stop in Cameron and visit my mom and nana too, havent seen them since Christmas. That's far too long.
4) Grocery Shopping. I'm so hungry.
5) L.A
Sunday, June 21, 2009
day one
sometimes, i just want to beat the shit out of someone. I know this is bad, I know violence is not the answer, but i really think it's one of the answers.
Friday, June 19, 2009
I had a dream
I think it was all the talk about Jurrasic Park last night, or that I've been watching movies with Jeff Goldblum lately, but last night I had a dream about dinosaurs.
I was with a lot of people that I knew, but I really don't know them. There was some sort of break-out of dinosaurs (all carnivores, of course) and we the humans were spending our days running from the raptors. I was at one point hiding on top of a pile of furniture and some other girl kept trying to hide with me. I was not having it, seeing as she kept squealing and attracting the man-eaters. At one point I held my hand over her mouth and said
"If you don't shutup, I will kill you myself."
Dream me is kind of a hardass.
Then the dinosaur stuck his big tooth filled head in our hiding place and I guess he was really dumb because he was breathing all on my face, but didn't see/smell me. Thank God.
I don't really remember the rest, just a lot of running and threatening the stupid 'I belong in a horror movie' girl, but still managing to save her ass. Lucky. There was a dance recital in a really different Craig Hall too. I spent my time there in the catacomb like basement of Craig, dodging dinos and watching ballet.
I don't make much sense.
I was with a lot of people that I knew, but I really don't know them. There was some sort of break-out of dinosaurs (all carnivores, of course) and we the humans were spending our days running from the raptors. I was at one point hiding on top of a pile of furniture and some other girl kept trying to hide with me. I was not having it, seeing as she kept squealing and attracting the man-eaters. At one point I held my hand over her mouth and said
"If you don't shutup, I will kill you myself."
Dream me is kind of a hardass.
Then the dinosaur stuck his big tooth filled head in our hiding place and I guess he was really dumb because he was breathing all on my face, but didn't see/smell me. Thank God.
I don't really remember the rest, just a lot of running and threatening the stupid 'I belong in a horror movie' girl, but still managing to save her ass. Lucky. There was a dance recital in a really different Craig Hall too. I spent my time there in the catacomb like basement of Craig, dodging dinos and watching ballet.
I don't make much sense.
Monday, June 15, 2009
The Young Mrs. Gaines
There is a woman laying on a park bench that has been uprooted and placed on a balcony. She smokes and blows rings into the air above her. Her body shivers and shakes despite the warmth of the night. Her eyes, when they open, seem unable to focus. She keeps eyeing the empty armchair across the space from her.
"You've gotta go now Neal. You gotta leave me. Gotta go."
The silloutte of a man is shown in the armchair, but he makes no responce. The woman begins to weep.
The widow is at the grave. She wears textured black in the dead of winter. Thick smoke escapes thru her veil. She is the dark one, so internally broken by her loss that she chooses not to grieve at all. To the outsider, her husband's untimely death is meaningless to her, even to the point of arousing small-town suspicion.
When she is alone, however, she is the outward expression of pain. What she does not show publicly, she privately boarders on indulgence. She will wear black for the rest of her life. She cannot bear to remove her wedding band. This widow hasn't changed the sheets on her bed, she still lays there breathing in her husband's lingering scent. She takes small sips from the glass of water he left next to the bed. Some days she does nothing at all but lay in bed, wrapped in her dead husband's memory.
"You've gotta go now Neal. You gotta leave me. Gotta go."
The silloutte of a man is shown in the armchair, but he makes no responce. The woman begins to weep.
The widow is at the grave. She wears textured black in the dead of winter. Thick smoke escapes thru her veil. She is the dark one, so internally broken by her loss that she chooses not to grieve at all. To the outsider, her husband's untimely death is meaningless to her, even to the point of arousing small-town suspicion.
When she is alone, however, she is the outward expression of pain. What she does not show publicly, she privately boarders on indulgence. She will wear black for the rest of her life. She cannot bear to remove her wedding band. This widow hasn't changed the sheets on her bed, she still lays there breathing in her husband's lingering scent. She takes small sips from the glass of water he left next to the bed. Some days she does nothing at all but lay in bed, wrapped in her dead husband's memory.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
2 am and it's
time to die.
I am sick. I am tired. The neighbor bro's have ignored my pleas for their silence.
It's time to take matters into my own hands....
Seriously, I'm tap-tap-typing this out at quarter after 2 in the morning and it's the second time I've woken up to some obnoxious girl squealing something about ..."but that's not cheating! Braaaaddd!"
Dear Lord,
I swear, I'm trying to be a good person. But this, this is too much. A girl can only listen to so much Korn and linkon park. I can't even misspell it properly I'm so tired. I swear they're listening to the 'Queen of the Damned' soundtrack. Oh God. You have to help. They won't listen to me anymore...
Really. Really Bro's, I know it's summer, I know it's a weekend. But, but I have a job. I have a cold. I know I probably wouldn't be sleeping anyway, I know that, but I really feel like i had a chance tonight. I drifted off at a pretty decent hour, I've had a long day, I've earned this sleep.
And you're stealing it away.
They just skipped tracks to listen to a really. really. bad. cover of Hotel California. It's like a drunken brofest singalong on my porch. That's it. Last straw.
I'm going to destroy them...
I am sick. I am tired. The neighbor bro's have ignored my pleas for their silence.
It's time to take matters into my own hands....
Seriously, I'm tap-tap-typing this out at quarter after 2 in the morning and it's the second time I've woken up to some obnoxious girl squealing something about ..."but that's not cheating! Braaaaddd!"
Dear Lord,
I swear, I'm trying to be a good person. But this, this is too much. A girl can only listen to so much Korn and linkon park. I can't even misspell it properly I'm so tired. I swear they're listening to the 'Queen of the Damned' soundtrack. Oh God. You have to help. They won't listen to me anymore...
Really. Really Bro's, I know it's summer, I know it's a weekend. But, but I have a job. I have a cold. I know I probably wouldn't be sleeping anyway, I know that, but I really feel like i had a chance tonight. I drifted off at a pretty decent hour, I've had a long day, I've earned this sleep.
And you're stealing it away.
They just skipped tracks to listen to a really. really. bad. cover of Hotel California. It's like a drunken brofest singalong on my porch. That's it. Last straw.
I'm going to destroy them...
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Obsessions
I get in these moods every once in a while in which I either love or loathe everything. I think that's alright. I think that's grand.
Right now I'm (re)obsessed with a lot of things. I say "obsessed" because it's true. I either watch, listen to, or read about all of these things because I can't seem to get over the idea of how great they are.
Oh look, a list!
1) Anthony Bourdain. There's really no explaining this. He's old, bitter, cynical, and crass. Well, I guess that is the explaination. An ex-chef who now travels the world experiencing and documenting different cultures and people through the food they prepare and share. It's a foodie show, but it really isn't about food at all. love.
2) "Igby Goes Down"- see previous post
3) "Heart of Darkness" Joseph Conrad just gets it. I've been re-reading a book of his short fiction (including Heart of Darkness) and it's just good work. Having somewhat recently seen Apocolypse Now helps too.
4) "Brick". Just watch it. A contemporary take on classic crime drama/nior. Writing to fall in love with.
ex: "You've helped this office before."
"No, I fed you Jerr because I wanted to see him eaten, not to see you fed."
"Why are you telling me this? What's your play?"
"You think nobody sees you. Eating lunch behind the portables. Loving some girl
like she's all there is, anywhere, to you. I've always seen you...Or maybe I liked
Emily. Maybe I see what you're trying to do for her. Trying to help her, and I
don't know anybody who'd do that for me."
"Now you are dangerous."
5) Helena by Nickel Creek. It's for sure number one on my top played list on iTunes. There's just something about a story/song like this. I find myself identifying with both 'characters' as it were.
6) 3OH!3. Needs no explaination.
7) I Never Knew You by Cage. I know, I know it's lame hipster underground rap. I'm aware. But it's dark and creepy and sad and Shia LeBouf didn't suck at directing the music video.
8) The phrase "Suck it". I think I stole this from Joel, but I don't care. It's funny and innapropriate, which is all one can really ask for.
Right now I'm (re)obsessed with a lot of things. I say "obsessed" because it's true. I either watch, listen to, or read about all of these things because I can't seem to get over the idea of how great they are.
Oh look, a list!
1) Anthony Bourdain. There's really no explaining this. He's old, bitter, cynical, and crass. Well, I guess that is the explaination. An ex-chef who now travels the world experiencing and documenting different cultures and people through the food they prepare and share. It's a foodie show, but it really isn't about food at all. love.
2) "Igby Goes Down"- see previous post
3) "Heart of Darkness" Joseph Conrad just gets it. I've been re-reading a book of his short fiction (including Heart of Darkness) and it's just good work. Having somewhat recently seen Apocolypse Now helps too.
4) "Brick". Just watch it. A contemporary take on classic crime drama/nior. Writing to fall in love with.
ex: "You've helped this office before."
"No, I fed you Jerr because I wanted to see him eaten, not to see you fed."
"Why are you telling me this? What's your play?"
"You think nobody sees you. Eating lunch behind the portables. Loving some girl
like she's all there is, anywhere, to you. I've always seen you...Or maybe I liked
Emily. Maybe I see what you're trying to do for her. Trying to help her, and I
don't know anybody who'd do that for me."
"Now you are dangerous."
5) Helena by Nickel Creek. It's for sure number one on my top played list on iTunes. There's just something about a story/song like this. I find myself identifying with both 'characters' as it were.
6) 3OH!3. Needs no explaination.
7) I Never Knew You by Cage. I know, I know it's lame hipster underground rap. I'm aware. But it's dark and creepy and sad and Shia LeBouf didn't suck at directing the music video.
8) The phrase "Suck it". I think I stole this from Joel, but I don't care. It's funny and innapropriate, which is all one can really ask for.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
They call me 'Igby'
If you've never seen the movie 'Igby Goes Down', you should change that. I haven't seen it in ages, but it's so so good. Stellar cast. My longtime celebrity crush Jeff Goldblum is in it, as is Kieran Culkin (brother of McKullay. However you spell it...) Amanda Peet, Ryan Phillipe, Claire Danes, and Susan Sarandon.
I don't really recall what I meant by this posting, except that there is one quote that sticks in my mind even after all this time.
"I guess I'm just a glutton for punishment."
I find relation to this a lot of the time. Which is wierd. You'd think that realizing it would make me work harder to change it. All it really does is inspire a bizarre sense of irony.
Another couple of quotes (as best I can recall them):
"If Heaven is such a great place, why is being crucified such a big sacrifice?"
"I love that the captain of the morality team invites his girlfriend to the same party as his wife. Who, let's face it, isn't the sharpest tool anymore. And you know what? None of her friends even stand up for her. They all know and no one bats an eyelash at his hypocrasy. I love it. Really. Embrace your moral hypocracy, just do it."
"I should hate you." "Don't be indulgent"
I don't really recall what I meant by this posting, except that there is one quote that sticks in my mind even after all this time.
"I guess I'm just a glutton for punishment."
I find relation to this a lot of the time. Which is wierd. You'd think that realizing it would make me work harder to change it. All it really does is inspire a bizarre sense of irony.
Another couple of quotes (as best I can recall them):
"If Heaven is such a great place, why is being crucified such a big sacrifice?"
"I love that the captain of the morality team invites his girlfriend to the same party as his wife. Who, let's face it, isn't the sharpest tool anymore. And you know what? None of her friends even stand up for her. They all know and no one bats an eyelash at his hypocrasy. I love it. Really. Embrace your moral hypocracy, just do it."
"I should hate you." "Don't be indulgent"
Thursday, June 4, 2009
A Week of Bad Ideas
1) Driving 4 hours in the sun with one arm out the window.
2) Letting mysterious birthday boys buy you drinks.
3) Meeting Ron Jeremy
4) Getting Ron Jeremy's signature
5) Selling plasma then going drinking
6) Texting during or after any of these activities
7) 7and7's
2) Letting mysterious birthday boys buy you drinks.
3) Meeting Ron Jeremy
4) Getting Ron Jeremy's signature
5) Selling plasma then going drinking
6) Texting during or after any of these activities
7) 7and7's
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
I can't pay rent UPDATE
Mission accomplished. I've got 20 more dollars in my wallet and bonus saline in my veins. The veins in my left arm are too small to draw from, so they had to take from the right. Which makes driving a stick shift really tricky.
I don't know when I'm donating again. It's all highly shady. Apparently (and I get this information from my Biolife inside source, Guy the Male Nurse) there's a bloodwar of sorts going on between Biolife and ZLB. ZLB is skeet. They take people's blood, but put their money on hold. Also, let people donate more often than they should and then send them to Biolife to get more cash. I don't know what all this really means, but Guy assured me it was big news. The feds are involved.
Great.
Now, dinner and drinks for Ferranto's birthday.
I don't know when I'm donating again. It's all highly shady. Apparently (and I get this information from my Biolife inside source, Guy the Male Nurse) there's a bloodwar of sorts going on between Biolife and ZLB. ZLB is skeet. They take people's blood, but put their money on hold. Also, let people donate more often than they should and then send them to Biolife to get more cash. I don't know what all this really means, but Guy assured me it was big news. The feds are involved.
Great.
Now, dinner and drinks for Ferranto's birthday.
I can't pay rent
so I'm selling my plasma today. I've done this once before, about a year ago, and it didn't go so well. I got all my money, but only 'donated' half the amount I was supposed to. This is because my vein exploded.
Literally.
Like, there was a giant blood bubble under my skin. Can't picture it?
Have you ever seen 'The Mummy'? You know those beetles that get under your skin and crawl around?
Yeah.
Just like that. Only blood, not bugs.
Hawt.
So, that may explain why it's been a year since I've been back to good ole Biolife. I'll let you know how it goes...
Literally.
Like, there was a giant blood bubble under my skin. Can't picture it?
Have you ever seen 'The Mummy'? You know those beetles that get under your skin and crawl around?
Yeah.
Just like that. Only blood, not bugs.
Hawt.
So, that may explain why it's been a year since I've been back to good ole Biolife. I'll let you know how it goes...
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Day One
Okay, okay.
So here it is.
The thing is,
I'm not a writer. Sure, I hit the right keys for words and sometimes the right word combos show up, but a good enough writer for my own blog?
Probably not.
The good news (for you) is that I'm gonna try anyway. Well, maybe that's not so good for you.
Oh man, this is a rocky start.
Points if you know what the title is from.
I was bored and listening to The Doors, so I cleaned the house today. All of it. Except the bathroom. And Liz's room. And Cole/Lisa/Laura's room. But other than that, I rocked the domestic duties.
Our vaccum didn't work. Turns out the spinny thing with the brushes on the bottom of the vaccum is important and does not work if it is coated in hair and thread. I say 'coated' because it literally looked like I'd murdered and stolen the coat off of a small, dusty animal when I was done hacking at it with the scissors.
BUT, the house is clean, the balcony space has expanded, Sammie got some exercise, the stove is clean and it's all thanks to Jim Morrison.
So here it is.
The thing is,
I'm not a writer. Sure, I hit the right keys for words and sometimes the right word combos show up, but a good enough writer for my own blog?
Probably not.
The good news (for you) is that I'm gonna try anyway. Well, maybe that's not so good for you.
Oh man, this is a rocky start.
Points if you know what the title is from.
I was bored and listening to The Doors, so I cleaned the house today. All of it. Except the bathroom. And Liz's room. And Cole/Lisa/Laura's room. But other than that, I rocked the domestic duties.
Our vaccum didn't work. Turns out the spinny thing with the brushes on the bottom of the vaccum is important and does not work if it is coated in hair and thread. I say 'coated' because it literally looked like I'd murdered and stolen the coat off of a small, dusty animal when I was done hacking at it with the scissors.
BUT, the house is clean, the balcony space has expanded, Sammie got some exercise, the stove is clean and it's all thanks to Jim Morrison.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
