"and as an extra burn on the taliban, I'll wear a bikini top and eat a hot pork sandwhich while I dance to britney spears. Freedom. It's a good thing."
so sayeth the mock martha on SNL
I woke up with my head still hurting. I didn't sleep until about 7:30 this morning and didn't get up until one. In the time period before I got left feeling like shit for making someone else feel like shit. I got left feeling numbed out and hopeless. I got left feeling thankful for someone else's ability to forgive and understand. I got left feeling loved. I went to sleep... if not peacefully... then gratefully.
Not for the sleep.
Sleep is just a biological function. I got left grateful for someone who had no reason to be kind.. but he was.
You still amaze me, sweetheart.
And I'm still beating myself up. Heh. Sorry.
Now I'm doing something I never do. Girly things. I'm looking for furniture. Dream furniture for that time when we can afford it. And I'm looking through hairstyles for one that will fit me. I'm thinking about going through all my clothes and getting rid of all the ones that don't show off my hips and waist.
My eyes are swollen from the crying last night and I'm thinking about sitting back with a mud pack and cucumber slices or tea bags.
Truth be told... I feel sexy as all fuck today. That never happens.
And I feel horny as all fuck today.
That's why the Leonard Cohen. Even in his little whiney wails and interesting verbal arabesques he's such a stripped down, plainly spoken lil hornball.
I'm feeling very Cohen.
Even when the music isn't feeling me.
I think I like it when you're a lil stubbly. makes me break out in goosebumps remembering it with your breath on my neck.
I know that reading leaves fingerprints on me just as surely as the people in my life do.
But I wish sometimes I could have an editor.
Someone who forges ahead and anticipates what my eyes will fall on an removes the things that are going to fuck with my mood. I'm still mellow and good and feeling very... at peace? I dunno how to define it.. I don't feel it often anymore.
But then... there's already this edge. It's from people's journals. No one on my friends list. Those are the people I know and dig and who generally don't sway my mood too much. It's the things I randomly find. Today I found ego. A loud huge screaming ego, pretending to be meek, but then peppering the entries with an inflated sense of talent and importance. It makes me wonder if I'm like that and that's why it smacks my sensibilities so hard.. we hate what we see in others when it reflects what we have in ourselves and all that...
But to have such an incredibly out of proportion sense of your own talents...
I guess that's what happens when you live in a self created vacuum.
cyberalicia: ahh - i must prepare for the impending 'facts of life' reunion movie
I can only hope this includes crucifixes, holy water, garlic, and maybe some sleeping pills to override the terror that will surely engulf her every night for the rest of her life.
I've been monkey all day.
and I've done nothing about it...
so it hasn't faded.
it's still there.