April 16th, 2001


(no subject)

I don't know if I need a lover or a friend or just someone to hold onto my feet while I try to do handstands in the street.
I think I need rest.
I think I don't WANT to rest.
I think that what I need is a good long soak in a better kind of bathtub with some bubbles that hang around for more than a few seconds.
I need these older married men to stop trying to step in and fix my life.
I need to act my age and have more water gun fights. I got too serious too quick and it has kicked up one hell of a temper tantrum.
And the groove soundtrack is just too damned mellow.
I need some booty shaking music.
You know.. so i can sleep

I'm heading out to california.
or maybe england.
I'm getting out of here, dammit. I have to believe that.
Even if it's only temporary. I need another life altering experience.
one that isn't death. One that isn't mayhem. One that isn't heartbreak

i desperately need OUT OUT OUT.

where's the damned circus when you need it?
can you still run away with the circus?

  • Current Music
    The tinkly things in my head

(no subject)

I am thankful for herbal up time.
I am thankful for yellowjackets. mmmm ephedrine...
I am thankful for my nice smelling shampoo and my lavendar soap.
I am thankful for always knowing where my toothbrush is.
I am thankful for the fresh ground coffee that I so thoughtfully ground yesterday afternoon so I didn't have to do it this morning.
I am thankful for these early mornings before the day is getting sluggish.
I am thankful for Rhett for keeping me giggling like a demented, drunk, french whore all night. Over the *phone* even.
I am actually THANKFUL that I can't find the snatch soundtrack. I have the case, but can't find the cd and I know that I would look back on bellowing out "Hernando's Hideaway" to my invisible tango partner has being horribly uncouth.
He should sing to me, really.
I am thankful that no one reads this.
I am thankful that the coffee is almost done brewing.
And yeah, i'm thankful for you too, demented gato with the issues about food and the freaking twist tie fetish. (That's the third one I've wrestled away from him since yesterday evening. I don't even HAVE twist ties.. i dunno where he keeps getting them from)
I am thankful for this awesome mood I am in.
I am thankful for the insomnia that caused it.
I am thankful that I am a neurotic basketcase who breeds hate and discontent.
I am also thankful that I am a neurotic basketcase who makes people laugh until they snort.

I am THANKFUL for Mr. Questions. Because I realize now that he is so out of his depth with me. Too much to handle, even at a 1,000+ mile distance.

I am thankful that I remembered to buy cream yesterday.
I am thankful for Tom's father coming around and dredging up all these feelings. Ripping them out and examining them. Always probing for more.
I am thankful that he hasn't yet run away from the reality of his son or the reality of his son's death.
I am thankful that I am strong enough to deal with him and Tom and The Manburger, Mike.
I am thankful that I know that I cannot continue being strong for them indefinitely.
I am thankful for Devo.
I am thankful for this asshole talking to me right now.
I am thankful that I rang in the day with laughter.
I am thankful for the guy in the donut joint who gives me free stuff just because I used to give him change for the shop when I worked at the RETAIL CHAIN STORE OF **DOOM** just across the street from said shop.
I am thankful for my good memory.
(you're still reading this?! I'm horrified.)
I am THANKFUL that I finally scrubbed off that eye of horus I drew on myself a couple days ago.
I am thankful I haven't yet chosen a design for the next scar.
I am thankful that this coffee is sooooooo tasty.
I would be thankful for visine if I had any.
I would be thankful if I had the kind of train of thought necessary to not ramble on hideously about nothing for strangers and gawkers and passersby to stare at and cover their snickery little mouths while passing.
You know what I'm talking about...
You've seen him. Mine was at the Rosslyn station, just down the hill from my sister's place in Arlington. Most of the time he was just there, talking. I'd be on my way to Dupont or the zoo or.. well.. anywhere that wasn't the building larry king lived in. (urg)
And he'd sit there and jabber. But don't *dare* look at him. Oh no. He can scream all he likes, but if you look at him... it's some sort of affront. They other people, they knew this. They didn't put up signs. They didn't warn me. They saw it coming. I didn't just look. I looked into his eyes. I *waved* a lil *wave* at him, fer chrissakes...
I can't really say he got belligerent, because I think belligerence required actual words. He just bellowed this great, gutteral, deep from the cockles kind of... king of the jungle... roar at me.
But then he sat back down and went back to muttering.

And there was that one time he was playing with himself.

yes, there was a point dammit.
don't question me.
heh, well, you can question me, just don't expect answers that you could understand.

I really need to pinch this off here. flick out the cherry and save the butt for later. i'm just biding time until someone else gets up and I can make breakfasty foods.
This always happens when i stay up all night. If someone doesn't wake up soon I'm going to have to venture out to Tim and Sean's and wake them up and feed them pancakes just so I can stifle this urge.
hmm.. maybe waffles. or some greasy english fry up.

Or a cantelope.


(no subject)

remember cantaloop?

or Lucas with the lid off?
"whatever troubles bubbles up..."
at least uh .. I think that's what he said.
That's what *I* said whenever he said whatever it was he was saying..

fuck on a stick.
I just turned into marla singer.


(no subject)

Why didn't anyone tell me that my left eye looks... well... demented and deformed... in that picture up there?
Looks like someone took a stick to my eye.
I look like sloth from Goonies.

Well,okay.. not *that* bad...


(no subject)

Okay.. .what the hell is Molybdenum?

This stuff I took has 300% of my DV of it.

And that helpful little parenthetical next to it does me *no* good.
Molybdenum (amino acid chelate) 225 mcg (300%DV)
Holy crap.
What's Vanadium?
there isn't even a DV on that one.

this is what I get for reading labels.
Inform the populace and they'll just get all wiggy and hypocondriacal on ya.

  • Current Music
    Poison- look what the cat dragged in. YES THAT'S RIGHT. POISON.

ah, poetry


the swans drown in bilge water,
take down the signs,
test the poisons,
barricade the cow
from the bull,
the peony from the sun,
take the lavender kisses from my night,
put the symphonies out on the streets
like beggars,
get the nails ready,
flog the backs of the saints,
stun frogs and mice for the cat,
burn the enthralling paintings,
piss on the dawn,
my love
is dead
- Bukowski

No, my love isn't dead.
Just my love life.
think I'll dye my hair today.
Put in some orange streaks.
make a retreat from my thoughts with really interesting hair.

  • Current Music
    De La Soul - Oodles of O's

I'm a bad bad monkey

I got my neighbor to wander up to the store for me.. he was getting into his car.. he was practically there already, dammit!
I gave him exact change for two packs of cigs and wrote what I wanted on his hand, because non smokers have no memory for that sort of thing.
he's such a nice guy.
and just sitting here now with the packs beside me, I find I don't really need to smoke them right now. Their meer presence is soothing.

Allie is threatening me with the bad poem she wrote about me.
I ... I've never had anyone write about me, good or otherwise.. not some creative work anyway...
not even INTENDING it to be bad. I'm touched in a weird, odd, bad touch, icky , but interesting sort of way.

I'm making even less sense now.


Oh my dear lord

I never ever thought I would say this...
SHE never ever thought I would say this..
I really really dig allie. she just made my damned day.
She wrote me a poem, and it's silly and bad and funny and wonderful and well.
just go read it .
  • Current Mood
    ecstatic ecstatic

(no subject)

About that last thing, the Allie poem...
I have more than one photogenic tit, people.
I've got the full, limited edition, completely one of a kind set.
Allie just hasn't seen the *good* pictures.

Little pills

They're the story of my life, ya know.
little yellow pills for when I need to stay awake.
little white pills for when I need to sleep.
tiny burgundy pills for all the iron I don't have.
Big white pills for when my already ancient joints start giving me a hell I cannot endure.
little blue and white pills for when I'm doubled over in the tub, rocking, tired of the burden of being female.
Ugly medium sized orange pills for when I keep forgetting that the four food groups are not coffee, cream, sugar, and amaretto.
Tiny triangular pills for when I need to stop the throbbing in my head.
nice round little pills for when I need to just feel free and wonderful for a few hours of pumping, sweating, groping musical release.

heh.. and I don't even HAVE medical problems.

  • Current Music
    De La Soul - Who Do U Worship?

Meester Questions says

"snoop verty-vert, you need ta get yo'se'f a jobby job."

hmm.. for a clueless bastard, sometimes he's not *too* stupid.

I won't be this bad tomorrow, folks. I SWEAR.
I haven't even gone to the hospital today. I just can't look at mike with his external apparatus (apparati? apparatusses?) and that... waxy, adipocere look to his skin.
I've pretty much convinced myself he's gonna die. NO, I don't know why I think that. He's just manburger. He's not imminent death. I'd just rather be pleasantly suprised by a great recovery than crushed by unexpected death.
I know too many dead people as it is.

One Eyed One Horned Flying Purple People Eater

I am looking so very very heroin chic at the moment.
bags on the eyes.. worse than usual... and sort of.. sallow.
yum, huh?
My face looks sunken in, and the cords in my neck stick out. hmmm. I didn't think it was possible to go from pleasently zaftig to emaciated in a week, without the benefit of cancer, but I think I just did it.

I think I just listen to this album so I can hear someone say, in all seriousness, "Let's do dis like brutus!"
Someone please point me toward some hip hop that makes me groove and smile like De La Soul.
Did ya know that if you put menthols in the same pack with regulars you end up with a whole pack of menthols? Bet ya didn't know that. Well, that's what I am here for.
I just finished up The World According to Garp. I think I'm gonna have to go back and reread Infinite Jest now. I'm not sure why.. maybe the northeast setting. I want to see characters in a book saying "wicked" all the time. I want to read about the suicide again and find someone to debate out the possibilities of that actually working. And Harold. Harold Incandenza... that's how I feel lately. Like I am making perfect sense and saying words, in sentences. With punctuation pauses and everything. That the verbs and nouns agree. That the adjectives are adequately placed.
And all anyone is hearing is strangled noises and inhuman moans.
Maybe I'm just totally incomprehensible. Maybe I really have cracked. Or finally let all the cracks show.
I keep looking at my leg. I carved a chaos symbol there with a razor blade when I was nineteen. It just felt right. And I've never regretted it. In fact, now that only one of the lines is visible now, I've been considering redoing it, or getting it done professionally. It feels alright to have it right on, in, of my body.
It wasn't an emotional release. It didn't make me feel better. It bled a lot. It hurt a lot. it was never about feeling better about the chaos in my head. It was about trying to make some sign of it physically. To make it more real. Make it dealable. make me realize that, well, I gotta get used to this. I just don't make sense to people nine times out of ten. I'm abrupt, rash, and emotional. I'm slow, tempered, and cold.
I'm all of it. and even I don't know what's up with me. So you really shouldn't bother trying, dear.
Yes, you. I'm talking to you.

was watching monty python's Meaning of Life earlier...
gotta share...

Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis?
Isn't it frightfully good to have a dong?
It's swell to have a stiffy,
It's divine to own a dick,
From the tiniest little tadger
To the world's biggest prick.
So, three cheers for your willie or John Thomas
Hooray for your one-eyed-trouser-snake
Your piece of pork
Your wife's best friend
Your percy or your cock
you can wrap it up in ribbons
You can slip it in your sock
But don't take it out in public
Or they'll put you in the dock
And you won't come back.


  • Current Music
    even more de la soul

(no subject)

if you will suck my soul... I will lick your funky emotions...

well, I might anyway.

with the right influence

and the right mood

it's not ENTIRELY out of the question