what secrets have you recently realized in private?

this ones mine:



RAINBOW SWISS CHARD
yes, the tag. but this was the only photo i could find that truly came thru for this wonderful child of the beet.

hahahaha.

yea for produce.

how to show me without you

Its hard to see through this windshield. I can’t seem to remember on which side of the glass heat needs to be applied or whether it is required on both. Among other things, I can’t seem to remember that I have half of the option.
Polaroids of the Dead by Douglass Coupland have been keeping the company of thoughts drifting in and out of each chapter, much like the snow drifts I wish the end of November would bring in place of this cold needy rain. My hands are gripped in ten and two and im ashamed at what ive brought myself to. The road is no longer a thrill of freedom. The road is judgement, resentment, and the stubbornness against regret. I’ve grown old.
Paranoia creeps up from the tail-end after the sun dies away. It presses into the back of the brain without resistance from a headrest. It’s the phatom fear you gave yourself when you were seven; a present from the dead, inches away from grabbing your heels as you run up the dark basement stairs. Polaroids from the dead. The glare from the headlights ahead don’t push or creep, but come screaming threats of tires turned sideways, rain being pushed away like tears from the dead velocity of the windshield. I wish for the road to be empty, to be alone, but instead I brace the wheel, a tighter shade of white, waiting while moving forward. I think of the moment before car hits car, internal life collides with internal life. A moment where time stands still and is nothing like a moment at all, but a silence. In my head is a small voice, smothered somewhere down beneath it all. It pardons the silence with an “o shit”. I am the idiot crashing into me. I am disrupting the internal life. I am awakened to the fact that it is not my life at all.
I practice speeches I wish to give to other people on behalf of solving some formula for rest. I think how i laughed when you said that words are all we have. I'm laughing now, again. I think of them like those little ovular dolls that fit inside of each other. I think of how many dolls ive created, how many ive talked into swallowing something identical, but slightly smaller than themselves. It’s satisfying, the way they fit inside of one another; a family of one, sitting and smiling with painted knowing smiles. You can see one smile. Bone and calcium and teeth all framed in a jaw; one face, one smile. It’s the same one you’ll find on the last doll, the smallest doll farthest from the outside. It’s the smile you find laughing at the end of how important you think your life is.

I guess the thing about today is I spent it alone, not with you. Are you the person I’m thinking about right now? Maybe you are. Where are you? Where did you go? The day is fading and I’m wondering about my next life, tomorrow and I wish it was with you.
We all have a you in our life; someone out there who spent the day with us, but then went away for some reason. That special you is not here now nor is the sun inside the green bottles of the graveyard wall, nor is the sun reflecting on the angelfish now fluttering in black waters. The sun has fallen into the world as I have fallen into the world, but the sun will not be judged for falling where as I will judge myself. And tomorrow when I will rise with a new sun and a new light I will redeem myself and I will find you and you will be here in my light and we will walk the islands roads together.




Anyway, I have an enema in five minutes and I need that time to readjust my attitude.

Ooogy Wawa!

i almost forgot...

Berbere Sauce with Beef Tenderloin
Zucchini, Onion and Yellow Squash with Blood Orange sauce over Rice Pilaf.

and maybe some lettuce or something.

Pomegranate Martinis.

RSVP please if you're reading and i like you.
Welcome to November's All Indulgent Cheers to my Mouths Feast and such and so good.

it's happened, Judy Blume!

ahhh

on the day of pillow hugging, sheepish sleep till 4...
on the day that required no scarf and smelled distinctly of summer air...
on the day where Shakespeare brilliance and Jeffrey eugenides succulence still floated between my ears...

i fell in love.
and i watched it come.

it came to me in creeping thought, like a daydream i didn't know i was having. But then it was there! Clear and piercing, like the remembrance of a missing object. As in greater pursuit of a hidden sock or key, I ran around to finish my job, my lowly waitressing job, but the last of the tables seemed to speak in a drunken slow motion; their mouths uttering more and more requests at half the normal speed, a monstrous depth scraping away at the ankles of my lovely condition.
alas, my dear companions said with sweet jealous eyes, "I will take them! You must go!" and as they waved their dirty dishrags like limp white handkerchiefs, i departed to ascend the dim lit sky and the summer air growing ever the more sweeter.
with anxious eyes, i peered left down the brick but my hesitation told me no, follow your heart! Never erase the first bubble you choose! Go child, seek your destiny! And so to the right i turned knowing in all the worlds movements this one was indeed, right.
He was inside and just a few steps below many a drunken nights i spent wandering in a balcony overlooking a show as desperate and disgraceful as myself. And the name, green as i have ever envied it before feeling worthy, spoke to me as love speaks true; a height as high as lovers do but in the end, will i burn you?
Ah, no matter! True love, may it be so, grow cold on a deathbed of one or both lover's choosing! Better to taste before the smell grows cold!
Hi, it's just me, am i dressed alright? A Cinderella in scrubs. They lead me in with gentle smiles. I know he's here. Which would you like? I choose again, the table plain of linen dressings, exposed raw of finished oak, dark red and round. My taste is acknowledged like a suitor given blessing. Yes, here on this night, she is the one. Fine choice madam.
He approached but i was not too give in too quickly; for my virtuous knight remains to endure my fight.
Good evening.
Oh his voice, baritone but trilled...could i say he was nervous? Resorting quickly to his notes as i look upon his face...ah delight! A challenge for my love!
Just water for now, is this the wine list? (Hoping that the fruit of his swoon would be all the sweeter!)
Smoking Loon...Viognier (dont look at me with such eyes, you ninny, of course i know how to pronounce it) please.
O the purest of pure, but none could quench my thirst...
i knew the moment was on the horizon, the brilliance of his love would soon pour light into me like a cantata's fluorescence, dissolving my thoughts with his words between scenes of Mozart's piano concerto #21...
Grilled Swordfish
ah piano...
with an asparagus and shitake mushroom
crescendo, crescendo.....
risotto
forte! FORTE!!
all in a red pepper glaze
glory! Yes yes yes! Fortissimo at his finest! Caesar! No, Balsamic vinaigrette! We've robbed the rubato!


I equate the following to thus:
Senses + Sharing = Life
Life - Language = loneliness
loneliness + Senses = Desire
Desire + Life = Love

mix those around a few times.

Thank you Austin for letting me fall in love with you...
for loving the man is simply loving what he brings to your table.

cheers.

Able to Snot

His name will be john. I am sure of it.

She asked me who is the perfect man?
I didn’t know.

So.
If infidelity means disloyalty then an infidel is a disloyal person? Yes?

I’m watching sense and sensibility since im too stupid to understand the written verse.

Feeling slightly uninspired so im to paint my face white and call me an invalid because as it is always, it is about me.

O BTW

dont give a cynic
unconditional love
and money they'll never have to pay back.

there's a counter thought to that.

i dunno metric

but that's a lot of jack


shit on my mind.

ever realize that you just can't be what you want to be?

ha!

we grow up, yes. We realize things, yes.
I will never go to Stanford U on a full scholarship for swimming (unless i have one eye and carry the towels).
I will never be on a stage (a real one) performing (musically) in front of millions.
I will not be in or have returned love for or by Devon Sawa circa "Casper". (Thank god, that would be legally wrong.)

(The funniest part about all of this is that i have not thought about these dreams for a very very long time.)
This is because ive been thinking about the dreams that i never considered dreams at all.

There is either a hierarchy of dreams or i am always incredibly self-destructive.
Once a realization of truth occurs, the hope/goal becomes a dream. Untouchable.

This is all getting out of hand...which is incredibly funny for the point that is about to be made.
I just wrote a film review for the amusement...something i havent done in some time. What i've realized is that i could never be a journalist, or write something that matters. I just can't make a clear point. Or give facts. Or organize myself in a way that presents useful information.

this is not a tough bone to chew for me so dont go verbally slapping me around....you. this just reiterates my life philosophy. tell it like you see it. be personal. be open. be scared.
if you want facts, resort to a textbook which, btw, is IN according to The Amusement. Reading Miami Quarterly is OUT.

thank god.

anyhoot.
i had something else to talk about but its about relationships and im working on convincing myself that i dont want one so that something comes my way.
this is pretty hard to fake.
even for me.

Ghost in the Shell is on.

goodbye and goodnite :)

Chunked

i have two regrets so far.
one,
i refused (with tearful retort) to go on Splash Mountain at Disney World.
two,
i should have gone to my senior year prom with Logan Reed.

i figure this is pretty good...seeing that the two are fairly trivial.
i tried to come up with more, but for some reason the ones that bordered possibilities, i sent back to untroubled waters on the huge yacht containing all the other stupid things ive done...and have gotten out of.
sometimes i think i know everything, that i've got the whole picture in frame, that i'm seeing all the sides. Then that little pest DOUBT makes an awkward appearance and everything goes dark and scary and shitty. It's raining im cold and i dont know where to go.
its that life experience thing...gimme all you got....throw it at me Man.....hit me with your best shot....be kind to me, treat me mean, ill make the most of it I'm an extraordinary machine.
And i think im being all bad ass, i think i am a machine, steel stoned and seemingly indestructible. which is almost true. cept i forget about all those people, the really good ones, that have tickets to this Ms Masochism’s Circus on the fifty yard line. They're not exactly enjoying their popcorn.

Do i apologize? I should. I do. I'm sorry.

It's a lot...my head, my life, my little world. Sometimes i forget other people look at it. Like a snow globe. And i the little figure change, but there's still glass in between and no matter how hard you knock, you wont get i, the little animals attention.

until you, or i, break it the fuck open.

on a lighter note.
LOVE STORY. Erich Segal, 1970. This is a great book about perfect dialogue. You should all read it.

Based on the conversation that i had with my mother, yesterday, steven and my sister today, i thought that this would be an approporiate conjunction of these thoughts...and this wonderful book.

Oliver refuses to speak with his father. Father is turning 60, having a party. RSVP. Jenny calls and while on the phone tries to make Oliver talk to his father. He refuses, she cries. She tells his father,
"Mr. Barrett, Oliver does want you to know that in his own special way...Oliver loves you very much."
Oliver rips the phone out of her hand, the reciever from the wall and throws it across the room. Says,
"God damn you Jenny! Why dont you get the hell out of my life!"

she runs away, he chases her, trying to find her, yadda yadda. He returns, she's sitting on the steps. He feels terrible and where remedy follows sickness, tries to apologize to which Jenny says,
"Stop. Love means never having to say you're sorry."

Now, i know i have heard this line before, but it hit me. I know its cheese ball (and actually now the book sounds cheese ball....dont believe it!) but i stopped reading, for a good 20 minutes.
Is this the perfect apology, meg? Is the perfect apology, not in a philosophical sense, non-existent because there just shouldn't be one?
I think we hit something like that. As long as you're still around to not have to say sorry then you shouldn't ever have to say sorry.
makes sense to me anyway. :)

The woman behind the register at Delia's asked me if purple was my favorite color as i placed a purple skirt and a purple belt in front of her. I said no, actually, then explained my halloween costume. She replies, "Jem and the Holograms"
The conversation to follow was filled with starry eyed memories of this wonderful show. We came to the conclusion based on the artifacts of costume, that i would be Pizzazz, the lead singer of the Misfits.
how freaking perfect is that.

Cheers for Halloween and all other special events i care about that get ruined by the ever present and invisible force that is the counterpart to great expectations.

happy for the time

one review of the nonsense
one more down the hatchole for the
unconsciousness.

i wish i weren't as happy as i am
i wish i weren't as fat as i'm drunk.

meg, youll never believe,
i sold a baby sitting gig
with a giant pretzel
and a "san pellegrino"
for the kid.


06 - Saeglopur

oh EW really?

ok
ill honor your request
when you clean up my cooked up mess

http://www.amshq.org

you're fcuked up
if you're being fed ideals
before you can chew

letter to myself

its not like you think
i dont have a shoulda coulda woulda
look at it now this way, from here.
You've learned no lesson
I'm the same as you
bitter helpless and pathetic
death growing ignorance.
lets refrain from thinking
anymore or ever again.
congrats, you've secured
a small piece of wishfull thinking,
wouldn't it be nice to give a fraction of the piece
to the family across the street
huddling in the rain
lost and disabled
holding onto the shell
of a child
warped like the bent pieces of your car
destroyed like the reasoning you were once given.

do it again and ill put the weight of the world on your head.
you'll breathe every moment in living hell.

forgive me please.

Shit Shinnity Shit Shinnity Shit Shin Sharooooooo

enough about me, lets talk about you for a minute

i'm a live in the moment, fly by the seat of my pants kinda gal, you know.

enough about you, lets talk about life for awhile

ya know, sex always seems like the answer, and then afterwards, the answers you need multiply by like a thousand

the conflicts

well if you didnt, you wouldnt be losing your mind right now
if i didn't what?
care what people think about you

the craziness

ironically enough, i'm trying to guide you here. its like the blind leading the blind
lets go jump off a cliff accidentally
thelma and louise style?

and the sound of pretenses falling

that's all. im really ok.
just the little outside eyes, the therepists notepad
like "i like you. do you like me? check a box, Yes or No"
in a note folded strategically so as to double as a paper football
yeah that little personality thing gets in the way

allllllllllllllllll around allllllllllllllllllllll arrrrrouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuououououououououound

WHY ARE YOU SO PETRIFIED OF SILENCE
here can you handle this:

(Don't worry, I'm not gonna do what you all think I'm gonna do, which is, you know, FLIP OUT!)



and all i need now is intellectual intercourse

you're my brain food for the day. every other conversation is pretty vapid.
vapid? hello chicken dinner!

a soul to dig the hole much deeper

if only you were a guy
or if i were a guy
i could never undertake the responsibility of dealing with that boy's thoughts
i tip my hat to you, ma'am
i'm done being worried about not seeming deep enough to "get him."
o huney, no.
there is no depth
he smears all the lines out so no one can figure out hes just scared of everything.

if only i could kill the killer

i want to die. not really, but im really fucking losing my mind and i only have a few small reasons as to why
and we will land safely back in our bedrooms with our baby brothers out of the evil prince's grasp
im tired of being so mean to myself all the time
horomone levels have gone psycho

all i really want is some peace man
a place to find a common ground
and all i really want is a wavelength
all i really want is some COMFORT
a way to get my hands untied

Jean, Marguerite, and Sebastian

I was looking forward to saying that the only thing this online babble is good for is keeping track of my .
that was cute wasn't it.
but unfortunately, since ive compared dates, i am just insane for no good reason whatsoever.

maybe if i learned more about chemicals i would have something stronger to hold on to. Like God.

So im quitting smoking right? Well i am. Yesterday was day two. Let me remind you that i work in a bar. Ok, no big deal. But yesterday, last night, our cocktail waitress aimie comes up to me and asks if i'll look over her Big's paper. I ask her why she can't do it. She says she feels bad making comments. 2+2=the paper sucks doesn't it?

So i have a free beer to accompany this hellish disaster- a simple compare/contrast 5 pager on ancient roman and Indian religions. Let's just say i didn't learn much.
One of her major similarities was that...well, the religions still exist. Because there are monks and nuns. Yea, thats right, NUNS. I forgot to mention that she thought the Ancient Romans followed Catholicism...o but then there was this part that mentioned something about Polytheism. O yea. And they celebrate their gods. Now, i dont know a damn thing about either or any religion, but for some reason the word CELEBRATE does not enter my vocabulary when thinking about Buddhism.
O and yea, Buddhism....the first 5 sentences of the intro were about how she read Siddhartha in high school and how she didn't get it. One of her sentences: "This is." As is, this is true. Obviously, because you just said so. OOOOOwait, then this one: "It would be unfair to not mention the similarities between these two religions." THEN FUCKING TELL ME IN THE FIRST PLACE.....ITS YOUR DAMN PAPER.
It's a shining example of how most people can't think for themselves. The robot even takes first hand in writing papers. Everyone at the bar thought i was nuts. I kept yelling and laughing violently to myself. It was great. But god damn, it made me want a smoke.
Lucy came down, laughed with me then got all serious about Buddhism. (yes, honey, i know...its all about loving life, that's great)
so i went upstairs to circle and was going to leave, explaining my lean toward the door as an escape from this smoke haven. And then i said fuck it and had a drink with her, christian and keith. SO i had two more beers and a shot of jack and a very long talk about quitting smoking....and all of a sudden im drunk. But im not drunk drunk, im cracked out drunk. Suddenly the world is not the same...suddenly the absence of nicotine is like a dead baby crawling towards me on the ceiling. What the fuck.
I try to sit down with Justin, Reuben, and Brian to play uchre, but we're playing at the bar and its all wrong and ali isn't there...and the very boy to put a voodoo hex on my head is going to be my partner and im 12 seconds away from christmas...shots....so i leave. i take a smoke from Ruby, tell them im going to pack it with greens. Brian makes fun of me, i dont care.
I leave. I get home. I smoke.

Dont give an insane girl: boys, drinks, stupid people's papers, vague sexual comments, compliments, drugs ESPECIALLY when she can't smoke and is on her 15 days road to the greater PMS.

This did not make the baby go away, this made the world fold up 1000 folds and slide itself into my head where it unfolded itself again and again.

ever build a card tower? line up dominoes? play jenga? been to Rome?
8gazillion thoughts a second. as soon as you realize they're there, they fall.

who knows where thoughts come from, they just appear

i made so many discoveries about myself last night, but i forgot them all.

2 days and the rest of this evening. i can't wait.

It's 7:10am, im due to check out in about 3hrs...

...when i clock in for work.
"I do love you, but i didn't know it was love cuz it was more than love, it was more than some stupid feeling i got in my stomach and i hate you i hate you"....blah blah blah..............
and then all of the employees dance their happy dance on top of the roof under the metaphorically repaired sign. Thank you AJ.
I asked Brian if he could teach me willpower. He gave me some suggestions for redirecting my thoughts (ps, we're talking about smoking here) which he did and which were helpful, but surely not enough to keep me going. What did keep me going was this one REASON that i have been neglecting.

I estimate that i smoke at least 3 packs a week. (at least)
Parliament lights cost $4.25.
Lets do math.

$4.25x3=$12.75
$12.75x3=$38.25/month

spring break starts march 11. That's 7 months away.

$38.25x7=$267.75

which pays for my plane ticket to Key West. which means i have $267.75 to now spend on alcohol because i'll just drink more if i can't smoke.
:)
the best part was when he instructed me to go to the bank and take out $100 in singles. When the sun goes down and the day has been smoke free, i get to tack $4.25 up on my wall. Then after some time, i would have a wall decorated with dollar bills. Blissful sight to fall asleep to.
So that's that.
I dont love, not capable. Dont know what its supposed to be like, dont know if my ideal is asking for too much, but the "flutter" (equates to something like giddiness, except it usually makes one physically quiver with just one thought involving that flutterworthy individual) that i get is completely sexual. That's it. I'm sad. I'm a pathetic pathetic person. Who can't even like, let alone love.

Not that i care all that much, its just what i have come to realize.
But its ok, because im quitting for the kids.

Can't wait to find the man that packs the genius gene so i can pop out some perfect kids.

There was this family that came in today.
One girl had boy cut short hair and was the most hyper little thing. She made me think: this is the prime example of childhood ignorance. I'm gonna do and say whatever the hell i want because i dont even know. anything. at all.
The other sister had blonde straight hair and said please and thank you and sat still with her hands together on the table, conscious of the elbows.

I miss my family.
They're tops. That's love.
Four days till the best four to sit around a dinner table.

good god i wish i could sleep.
Damn you doppio espresso macchiato.
Damn you dreams.
Someone enclosed a burning cigarette in a jar and sold it on e-bay. They called it “ghost”.
Another guy claimed that he was in a New York club and Brittany Spears was walking in front of him. She farted and for some miraculous reason he had a Tupperware container on hand. So he caught Brittany Spears’ fart and sold it for $300.







Images provided by Google search "flutter"
I call it a thematic sequence.
so do you if you get it.

out. out out out out.

o fiona, you luscious sadist

I certainly haven't been shopping for any new shoes
-And-
I certainly haven't been spreading myself around
I still only travel by foot and by foot, it's a slow climb,
But I'm good at being uncomfortable, so
I can't stop changing all the time

I notice that my opponent is always on the go
-And-
Won't go slow, so's not to focus, and I notice
He'll hitch a ride with any guide, as long as
They go fast from whence he came
- But he's no good at being uncomfortable, so
He can't stop staying exactly the same

If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine

I seem to you to seek a new disaster every day
You deem me due to clean my view and be at piece and lay
I mean to prove I mean to move in my own way, and say,
I've been getting along for long before you came into the play

I am the baby of the family, it happens, so
- Everybody cares and wears the sheeps' clothes
While they chaperone
Curious, you looking down your nose at me, while you appease
- Courteous, to try and help - but let me set your
Mind at ease

If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine

o I so worry you, you need to hurry to my side?
-It's very kind
But it's to no avail; I don't want the bail
I promise you, everything will be just fine

If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine

excuse me, do you speak body?

daydream delusion
limousine eyelash
o baby with your pretty face

drop a tear in my wineglass
look at those big eyes
see what you mean to me

sweet cakes
and milkshakes
i'm a delusion angel
a fantasy parade

I want you to know what i think
don't want you to guess anymore
you have no idea where i came from
you have no idea where we're going

latched in life
like branches in the river
flowing down stream
carving a current

i carry you
you'll carry me
that's how it could be.

dont you know me
dont you know me by now?

I'll say it again

how many therapists does it take to change a light bulb?




only one.




but the light bulb has to really want the change.




This is beyond seeing everyone and admiring them for what they do.
This is beyond my irrational perfectionist need to be these people and do what they do.
I can write it off to a few things,
but i see the cliff up ahead
and i do
press on the gas instead

of the break.


everyone has plans they're not really committed to
everyone has dreams that they've decided they can't have
commitment means...
when youve given up?

How does one give up on something they can't even or ever realize?
o please, give me redemption
an aftermath
because im afraid
of what i have forgotten to do.

what to want
when what you get
every moment
is something better than anything
you could have asked for.

make it real
make it written
make it speak
make it paint
make it taste smell
make it
make it breathe
for which it becomes
something that someone else can see.
say you dont need anyone
you are sublime.
say you mean it
and no one believes you.
say you are in love
with this
i say you are not alive to love
i say you are an empty space of wasted energy
but nothing is still something.
describe the nothing

PLEH!!!

Joe Rodgers


In a spree of excellence over the weekend
Mayet’s corduroy, one wale of a jacket
(its something we all crave)
silenced the stereotypes.
But doses higher than 15mg per day
(looks that cool girls will get in about a half a second)
should not be taken due to increased risk
of serious stomach and intestinal problems.

He had expanded his family’s vast business
As a distributor of coca-cola
Because real world problems
Need real world solutions.

His Mother, the ultimate Manhattainite hostess,
Without breaking stride or making eye contact,
Said to him “your fly is open” and
Continued on her way.
If the French can lie with a straight face
The British can pull your pants down.

Memories and anger resurface near middle age
(in sports its called controlling the clock)
but the timeline provided also changed
(or wasting you life getting to the next level of your career).

It is not the cold stare
You see looking at the pyramids
Because the love of conspiracy theories in Egypt
Has not been neglected.

It’s pocketbooks.

We can’t go on like this.

In the beginning there were magic buses
Sweet organza blouses,
Deceptively light teacup skirts,
A ball with an inflatable rubber sky.

How does he get through it? Carpe Diem-
A lurid example of failed genius.
They had swallowed a wasp
And don’t meet his conceptual dreams.

Nothing is sacred.

He soon found himself in shackles
On a predawn flight to rural Louisiana
Awaiting beer for the babe
Supporting education while on vacation.
It’s called gentrification.

All talk and no action
They deliver the same power.
But if they stand still long enough,
Curious minds,
They can see the face of time.

Mammals and much

After posting something self-deprecating on my away message, Reuben responded with this:
(From Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy)

On the planet Earth, man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much - the wheel, New York, wars and so on - whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man - for precisely the same reasons.

I woke up the other day, got out my messenger bag, put a note book in it, put my sunglasses on my head and a FIJI bottle in my hand, plugged my ears with my iPod and walked around pretending to be a student. Everytime i thought of that, i put the glasses over my eyes to hide this pathetic sadness leaking all over my face.

I am a guilt ridden person. It's what grandmothers and Catholicism does to a person. It's also what immense love for too many people does to a person. I have been letting myself choke on feeling guilty about having fun, about being happy for the first time in a long time. Why does happiness, solely in the grandeur of success override so many other small things.

Ah, but you see, its my trouble, its my head. Ferk (you know, Mr. Ferkaluk, from AAS, father mentor coach to a group of tremendous swimmers, feared by all others) told me once that i have a case of two-footitus. Give me a 12 foot boat and all i want is a 14fter. This is true. I dont know how to get over it.

Career fair was a week ago tuesday. Stiens was packed. I took care of a table of 14 from Earnst and Young; all babies, fresh grads. Their bill was 445$. My tip was 65$. I made 100$ that night sweating a hole in the back of my shirt. The thing i couldn't get over was how these kids, sitting here and chugging down liquor and beer on the company's credit, punching numbers and keeping this arbitrary system flowing like water, are thought of as "successful". Sure, they worked hard, they graduated, they wear suits. I can't say that i am any of those things, but wow, how funny. If youve ever worked in the restaurant biz, you understand the exquisite display of psychotic submission in every employee. Stress. Lovely stress. For 100 bucks. And you're damn happy about that.

Maybe its another case of the tortoise and the hare. The slow guy ends up winning. Meredith ends up with the job of her dreams and is honest to god satisfied with it until the day she crokes. The other fuzzy bunnies move too quick without thinking and end up stuck. Why must i compare myself to these hares? Because the hares will be together and meredith will move like honey all alone.

I'm scared and excited all at the same time.
So i should probably make something happen really soon.
Ready set bang.

Artesian? Doesn't that mean its from Artesia?

Yes, right next to Antfartica. Artesian, for all you precious FIJI drinkers, is a type of “well” that does not need to be pumped. The angle of the strata causes pressure so that the water is extracted without pumping, kind of like Old Faithful except not because that is a geyser and its all actually very different, but I thought of this picture anyway.

Artesian? My brain?

Yes, how natural.
Kind of like PMS. And gin. All natural.

I woke up at 2:30. I walked upstairs. I went in the bathroom and washed my face. Then I fell on the floor and cried in that choking, rocking cry manner that has no real tears which makes it all worse. Faker.

Why?
Could have been just another Monday.
The Steinkeller kids do karaoke on Monday nights. That’s at Fisrt Street or Brick Run or whatever the hell have you. I’ll have a double gin and tonic for 2.75 please.
The night was fun.
Kinda.
Alyson, another of my fav SK co-workers, sees bob at Stadium a few hours earlier. Wait, im sorry, let me rephrase that. She hears his voice from across a crowded bar the moment he walks in. She turns and there he is, wearing a t-shirt she bought him for his birthday.
Bob is an asshole. Bob says and does terrible things to Alyson, the stories are endless. Bob even hits Alyson. Bob and Alyson were dating for three years. Bob is now Alyson’s ex-boyfriend. He broke up with her. Never really explained why. Never really said anything constructive. He’s now engaged to an ugly fat girl he’s dated for four months.
Alyson had five shots after Bob walked into that bar. Alyson, emotions, and drinking mix as well as toothpaste and tarter sauce on a piece of chocolate cake.
Alyson does not understand how someone you love, and supposedly loves you, can be such an asshole, she sputters, through real, wet tears. We are upstairs @ FR/BS because we went to go find Nick, her new bartender love. He’s not working. Now we are here.
She wants to be in love. I tell her this has come up in my conversations quite a few times lately.
There is nothing worse than seeing a beautiful person, amazingly smart and talented and fun, crumble into self-worthlessness because an asshole doesn’t think. I wonder why she liked him in the first place. I’ve asked her before, she hasn’t been able to get back to me with an answer.
She needs, as she stated before, a dry cleaning service for her head.
I put it down on blueprints this morning. Anyone that wants service will get it for free.
Because no one should be stained by an asshole.
Easier said than done.

Alyson went home.

I took care of some drunk girl in the bathroom with her head on the toilet and her thong hanging out of her pants. It was her birthday. She asked, in that quintessential blonde Miami chippie voice, “can someone come talk to me? Can you come talk to me please?” Which was cute. In a good way.

Is caring effortless? Yes. Just don’t expect anything in return.

They never played my song.

We left.
We went to Reuben’s. Shane threw a table at this kid. We talked for a long time after that. I’m not yelling at you, I just want to understand how your brain works. We talked, I got through to him.
Shane, who’s gonna take care of you. Stop hiding it, stop hiding. You take care of everyone else, someones gotta take care of you. He says no. He hides.


Then I came inside and I sat on the toilet. I put my hands over my head.
And said what I wrote on my last post after I couldn’t remember a single thing that Shane had just said to me.

I just took a very long break looking up green parrot bars and tiki sheek hotels in Key West. It’s September, but march is right around the corner.

I have other things to say, ill say them later.

One last shout out. Doug Linn made my whole entire evening.
Go avocados, perfect children, and mama Meredith.
That’s right, go me.
I rule.

Goodnite.

alien post

and what you think on the toilet means a magazine

after healing a broken heart against an asshole
after feeling so sick i cant continue
after seeing my closest never helping the situation they've gotten into

you've got to better than this
you've got to better than this
you've got to better than this
you've got to better than this
you've got to better than this
you've got to better than this
you've got to better than this
you've got to better than this
you've got to better than this
you've got to better than this
you've got to better than this
you've got to better than this
you've got to better than this
you've got to better than this
you've got to better than this
you've got to better than this
you've got to better than this
you've got to better than this


and its mine?
yes.
we've got to.

Martha my sour twist faced hero

I’m watching that TV movie about Martha Stewart and I’m identifying. I might lose it one day and if I do, im gonna act just like Martha Stewart.
No, I’m not talking about marriage silly.

It’s been a long weekend and I have nothing intelligent to say.

open your eyes

You cross boundaries for your art, for the things that touch you.
Sometimes you go too far without knowing it.
Because you’re in it.

Vanilla Sky.
Dreams. The promise. The life.
I feel like a little bunny cartoon character. All wide eyed and jumping around. Vacant and brilliant.
I’m waiting for that bunny to get a bloody bullet in the back of the head.

Drip drip.
Im lovestruck. Bleeding with the love of life and the desire to make the love something real.
Why am I so coldhearted.
Coffee is good when its hot. Order it, taste it once, then let it sit.
My bullet is a cold cup of coffee.

You will never know
The exquisite pain
Of the guy who goes home alone.
Because without bitter, baby
The sweet aint as sweet.

anxious to early....but hurry

Before I begin cuz I cant, im gonna take notes.


I cant.
James begins and is another story.

I copied someones’ life today.
Not even close to I dig their style
Even the farthest from
Imitation is a form of flattery

I wanted her words so badly
I talked to her to remind her what she’s worth
But I am the best of the eyes

Don’t demand something
When you place it on random

But be surprised when you get
The good shit.

Since now, themes have become everday
Circumstances.
Not lacking, but loving.
I remembered Neely’s strange printer
Has a photocopier.
Talk about something to go home to
Your whole night relived
And the documents youll always wish you had
Reminding you in the morning
What did you do?

You make me dance on random
I fell down the stairs tonight, but i
Forgiving myself
Only because
I knew how to act alone when you weren’t around.

some swans a swimming

Tooooooooo much music makes the mind go far out! (3GB neu!)

Lets start with my notes, because I take them on Guest Checks.

Brian, my favorite savant employee at Stein’s says:

Go on Road Trip
Write Journal
Entries about trip
Based on any ideas.
That arrive – from
Farcical to senor’s
On subjects either tangent or relevant

TOUR THE WORLD
MIXING STORY w/
CREATIVE WRITING

Honestly, I can’t read his writing on the Senor’s part, but it makes sense to me, funny. What I was really asking him to write down was

Tennessee Williams – the glass menagerie

If I could recall the real quote, irony would be broken, or solidified. Either way, ill never know the difference.

This is all from memory.

Sufjan Stevens came out tonight in brass high school band flare. Since im from there, I can say fighting illini cheerleading uniforms, but I shouldn’t. His opener was a series of cheers, a pep rally presentation of all the fifty states that he has discovered. I wish I could repeat the witty things he said about the places he’s been to, but I don’t have ears, I have eyes.

(Side note….try to create your perfect sensual being from the people you know….the best adapted eyes, ears, taste, touch, smell you know. Think about those people. Then really think about them.)

But what my ears did catch was basically
GO ON AN ADVENTURE AND WRITE/SING/TALK/SHARE
What you feel.
Cuz we do, chemicals beside. Are tears chemicals? Cuz he moved me to cry.

But we wont. We’ll talk about Sufjan and his Illinoismakers instead.
Who writes god blessed albums about the 50 states? What a freaking folk weirdo.
Ever know when you take a breath and think about how fucking long its been since you’ve had a hair cut, or a talk with your sibling, or a good fish sandwich? When you get these things, you have a moment to judge time. Well what the fuck were you thinking about between then and now? Between a week ago and now? Between now and now????
A whole shit bucket in an outdoor potty load, that’s what. Retrace me back to my entry on my experience with “What the Bleep do We Know???” That’s thought. Don’t think about it. Exactly.
So that’s my point. Who is the man that can travel and be “all part of the act” for a career and still be so focused to create tracks about the places he breathes for only a moment?
Sufjan Stevens.
That’s Su-Fee-On Stevens and that’s who.

Neely, my housemate and I were talking about Ohio geography. That’s the cool thing about going to a school in another state – you’re not required by native custom to know where things are. There is, however, a however. One, that Neely knows only the greater part of southern Ohio, and second, that I don't know jack shit about the Chicagoland area. Never have, never will. Yes, the two areas are greatly diverse: Socio-economico-ecologico-suchoandsoscio---------------------------------
But my concern is why, since one has told me why holds the greatest potential.
Brian, once again is my favorite person.

The night he told me to do what I stated above on my guest check, we got our conversation started on his minor in some kinda distribution supply chain management deal. (this was before I told him journalism wasn’t for me because I wasn’t confident in myself to get and keep the straight facts).
His minor is a minor factor in my point. The kid whips out (once again) the beloved guest check and draws me a diagram. As he is drawing out 3 of 12 semi trucks to display distribution techniques, I say to him
“Brian, you either need to have children, or you need to be a professor at some point in your life.”
He replies that both of his parents were professors.
Funny.
I know I should be concerned about people not getting an education at ALL, but they will be my concern after I have to secure my own. My concern at the moment is getting people in college to get the most out of their education NOW. Ive always felt the lack of creativity in the classroom. I mean, c’mon, how many freaking times have you heard the term “visual learner”????? Besides that, how many smart people have you met that aren’t arrogant of their rocker? Point beside, if you want to learn something, and be part of the discussion without judgments or negative repercussions, Brian is the person to talk to. He works at Steinkeller, mostly on the weekend, and as a doorman, is usually bored and thirsting for conversation.
Please visit, he's an excellent teacher and knows, as far as i'm concerned, everything.

O shit, that’s right, back to my Stevens. Geography lessons through music. I’m willing to devote the next week of my music ambitions to reading the lyrics to the new album and learning about my state the way he sees it. This is creative motivation. You might compare it to celebrity influence but with all that bullshit taken away. So, don’t compare it at all. Ive exhausted this topic.
I’m going to look next on my list and I fear its about love and drumbeats because I remember (kinda) taking them.

The Man of Metropolis Steals O

The chorus:
Only a steel band
Came to recover
If he had run from gold, carry over

We celebrate ourselves to each other
We have a lot to give one another

Forgive me for me ignorance if it's in place. a.) for not knowing anything historical related to gold in southern illiinois b.) for not having the hard copy album leaf of this beloved artists that I am speaking of so belovedly.

My stupidity will be perhaps shortlived for the person whom gives the point will only understand. Steve writes:
“I’m in love with everyone I meet”
id like to connect the lines and hide my potential insecurity by saying that yes, we do.

Sufjan wears addidas under his orange track pants that I could have stolen tonight but didn’t.
His encore was in black, gold toe socks that curled under his toes when he sang
To Be Alone With You
The girls in the front row sang to be alone with me…
After the show we still questioned his sexuality.
Sufjan did not come out to sign autographs or answer questions.
Sexuality is a mystery to me too, my love.

I’m nearing the end of my notes which means we were in the car and my iPod was in my lap and im playing all the ones that make my heart break. I was supposed to be in love for this show which means I was out of control, which is never fun.
Witch fun.
I was supposed to mention this factor earlier for sake of concealment of certain thoughts. Im honest but never that honest.

Even in Chicago, he let the drums go numb. The trumpet's tempo slowed. He was alone.
If the heartbeat is the drums
And the lone music has less drums
Does lone have less heartbeat?
Or does it really just stop?
Alone.

How do you fall in love entirely with something that is not human?
I did tonight. I always have. I’ve just never known its where I was.

Still, can you combine passion, as in passion for life, as in sufjan’s opening song and thus what spiraled out in my mind…………………………..
With passion?
With love?

I’ve made a lot of mistakes.

I went to Stein’s after the concert to visit my family.
When I left, a beige jeep Cherokee was playing Eric Prydz “Call on Me”

I’m bartending tomorrow from 4-10. I’m training and my downfall is I overpour.

how well ShE speaks

life, how dare i imagine, is not so simple

let me present the questions before i lose them in the answers
if the truth is the whole then is it legitimate to desire the whole in the one we love? or are we dreaming.
is there really a complete person....or are we just craving ourselves personified?
why do we feel guilty about being perceived well by others?
why do we put ourselves in uncomfortable situations when we are positive that even before the occur they will indeed be uncomfortable?
why do we discuss foreign issues when in the end, we're discussing issues only personal to ourselves?

maybe i should just leave it at the questions and keep context out of the response. im tired, and craved drinks in good company. these are the last circumstances i wish upon myself in face of these extremely important questions. i know for certain that three people read this...all of you are capable of designing thoughts for the presented argument. thus so, here is my final question.

is caring effortless?

lets see if you think twice.

ron white, ive learned a lot tonight

there are a lot of things i want to talk about and im very tired, so ill start with the things from the cellar and move on to others more dificil as the level of my vodka diminishes.

a table of seven guys came in tonight to have drinks. They were very nice and after a few, asked me if there were any bars that have special events on sundays. they were from out of town and "swimmers" which i immediately freaked out about. they explained to me that they weren't exactly swimmers with an uneasy hesitation. I found out that they are in oxford to try out for the national underwater hockey league. I once again freaked out. I sat next to a guy on my trans pacific flight to australia who was traveling to sydney for an underwater hockey tourney. Ever since, ive never really known how it worked because i was so flighted out and nervous that i never asked the dude. These gentlemen took the time to explain it to me.
Flat bottomed pool. Participants wear fins and snorkel equipment. Weighted hockey puck and colored "hockey sticks" (to designate fellow team members) about 1.5 feet long. Rules are the same as in hockey...i think. actually, i have no idea, that didnt come up, im just assuming. And thats it. The one dude had on a tank top with a picture of a guy in a suit spread eagle underwater. The words read "Underwater Hockey...a spectator sport!" They do, by the by, have spectators...and a spectator booth...all underwater.
The thoughts were abound after i talked with these guys, but i can't get into it now. Just think about being submerged underwater...everyday. in class. smoking a smoke? eating broccoli. wow.
Also by the by, miami is wishing to create an underwater hockey team. if you're reading, you're a miamian and you're interested e-mail this guy @...ok, i now cannot find his name. ill get back to you on that one.
as they were closing out their check, i actually sat down to listen to a story after the gentleman on the end (1/2 dink dunkle, 1/2 erdinger) told me to "put in an ear" which is the greatest turn of phrase i have heard in a long time. (All, with the exception of 2 men, were from California:) ) Anyway, the story was pretty good, but the bigger point was that the kid who told it was a PHENOMENAL story teller. Which brings me to my next...story.

Brian is a doorman. If you ever go in, call him by name, say hello. He's stocky medium build, a good set of shoulders and a strong back. He has a very structured face and long dark hair that he wears in a ponytail with a second ponytail holder in the middle of the tail. Brian, is a fantastic story teller.
I warmed up to him after he started telling Ashley, Kristi and myself a story about a snowboarding accident. I picked up on the part where he said he listens to Crystal Method while boarding so he can feel bad ass and pretend he has his own theme song and video game on sega, so i asked him, since we appeared to have similar taste, if he had any other artists to offer me. He did, would you like to hear them? Ok, good.

Apollo 440
My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult
AK 1200
Aphrodite
Rollergurl (WHICH i put down because i've been listening to her since my soph year of HS AND i listened to her last night before i went out AND i find, from brian, that she's local cinci. how fucking cool is that)
Digital Psychosis (also local)
Front 242

he's smart. he's mad smart. he's the kinda person you meet and immediately think, this child has a photographic memory. he's also a bit of an idiot savant, i say, because he also has very heartwarming moments of intense ADD.
i ask him if he dl's music. he says no. immediately i feel bad. i have little morals i have discovered. he explains to me that dling music for free is just bad, the artist or the people that the artist must pay see nothing. thats not cool. But then we get into a conversation about paying for dl's...such as itune's music store. This is where savant shines.
He takes a guest check (the thing i take orders on) and starts writing and talking.
Disc
Case
Cover Art
Rec Studio
Factory (to make cover art)
Press (to print art)
Wholesaler
Retailer
Corporate
Royalties
he says, it costs approx 15$ to buy a cd. Itunes wishes that you pay 1$/song. He finds that this price is a little high. Why? Lets look at that list again.
If you are DLing a song, then your list looks a little more like this:



Rec Studio

Corporate
Royalties

You buy your own disc and case. You dont get the cover art with the song, and even if you did, you print it out on your own PC which means that you can eliminate the factory and press. The wholesaler is gone, the retailer is gone. Corporate peeps are apple people and royalties, i think i understood this correctly is money that actually goes to the artist. So then he breaks it down like this:
you buy a cd with approx 15 songs for 15$. iTunes charges 1$ a song, which on the surface, makes sense. (not to interupt the flow, but i have missing links on my guest check of notes here, so i may be making this last part up...feel free to comment with corrections if you understand this and you understand it differently.)
.05$ = cost to produce single songs in rec studio
.25$ = money owned to corporate (apple for hosting song)
.10$ = royalties (money to artist)
-------
.40$/song
which to brian, and now to myself, is a happy medium. Pirating music is obviously a big deal, legally and morally and dude, artists should be making money for their living. But apple is kinda exploiting the less stigmatic way of DLing. This would be a more reasonable price/song.
He said this as well, which i liked, because thinking of things on the extreme scale shakes you a little more.
Brttiney Spears releases a new album in Hong Kong or Russia or somewhere on the other side of the world in an eastern time zone and some dude or duddet buys this album. He/she brings it home to their PC which just so happens to be hooked up to a fantastic server. They DL to their PC, upload it to the internet and share it among other fantastic servers. Now its out and EVERYONE is DLing Brittany Spears' brand new album @ 7-12 MB/sec. What does this mean? It means that within 24 hours, the entire world will have a copy of Brittany Spears' new album. What does this really mean? She sold exactly ONE copy and made .10$. 10 cents. Granted i'm all for miss slut ass to be put out of business, but substitute your favorite artist and you're shot in the heart.
His bigger passion was to have iTunes create a monthly fee for customers, allowing them to have access to anything they want for say, 20$/month, kinda like you would do at a video store. I thought this was a fantastic idea. People love to feel that sense of freedom. They put the money down in the beginning and forget about it....set it and forget it. It's kinda like paying your rent and not having to worry about it for the next 30 days. He worked it out to 240$/year and ending up with 18 new fantastic discs spinning in your boom box and car stereos.
You know the scene in office space where Peter has a meeting with the Bobs and he says....
"It's a problem of motivation, all right? Now if I work my ass off and Initech ships a few extra units, I don't see another dime, so where's the motivation?"
that's the problem here. we have to motivate people to stop stealing music. Computer people know how to get around the system. They will always find a way to not get caught. Its the happy medium. Its the give a little, get a lot more, and at the same time, feel good about doing the right thing. Everyone wins. Yea!

I told him that he should write a letter to apple. They are looking for suggestions. Jesus, they PAY people to make these kinda suggestions. Maybe I'll do it myself. Actually, i think i will. Actually, i will. I will.

The other thoughts of the evening are far less positive and not put together AT ALL at the present time. I'll leave you to comment (please?) about the problems of the suggested so i can clean up the presentation before its shipped off to apple.com.

oh, btw, Ron White. Comedian. Hilarious. (His title routine...Brian recited the entire thing to me at the bar...like i said, savant). I laughed belly, cant catch my breath style and thought, riding the comedown, there's a particular someone that i would really enjoy watching Mr. White with.

goodnite and good luck :)

everyone should remember that alcohol is a drug

do we make judgements too quickly?
but do we feel inspired at the same tempo?

big thought for a small circumstance.
im coming home from a night of hard work (with good surplus!) and partial drinking. So after a vodka peppa and v8, i browse my new home's dvd collections. The only two i narrowed it down to were jay and silent bob's empire strikes back....or reality bites. she knows why i picked the latter. im thinking, especially based on projected points (or stories) that this is going to simply be a correspondence between you and i, sisterhead.
back to the thesis. its my sister. everyone has always said....wynona rider. i remember mermaids...with cher...who is mom, really. sexy but not cookie cutter model attirbutes, and with attitude...a cut or dry, this is the way it is...at least what ive experienced. and ethan hawk...(there is no secret handshake) blah stigma at this day and age but, meg, im sorry it took me so long to understand (but there is an IQ prerequisite).
based on the inspirations. if you own the dvd, as most dvds or vhs' you open with short credits. The first is...Field of Dreams. Enough said. My father used to spend his sunny days in the back yard by himself playing out all the positions to....well, what was his team? an all star team? maybe he can leave me a no\te. If he archived, he'd be the beginning of what we now call "fantasy baseball". Regardless, can i say, i've always liked to meet my granpa.
o and before i forget...dvd version....quatum leap. yes, available on dvd. hello???? im only cool because of my sister.

saturday august 27 2005 (sat early morning)
and you know what that means
first on my mind, i want to talk about
we're smart...we're able to get what we want...
most of the time.
what is love? attraction? infatuation?
i'm sorry, ive found the three to be in the same category.

i called steven after work because i called him before work to ask him about wireless internet. he answered like he does....and all i can think about is aftyn describing it as somekinda nonsense babble. damnit, i lost her exact phrasing, but i liked it and more importantly, i thought of it like that. she's brilliant, and at one point, attracted to his elusiveness....so what the fuck? why couldn't i have met and realized this 3 years ago...instead of noticing it now?
im different this year. I am weary of the first couple weeks....the excitement, the energy, the presumptuous goals for the year....so im trying not to set up the fall...but i still feel different. My head is so clear. and my roomates are amazing. and i have a job. and i dont have to worry about anything.
Stress is better than boredom, but i can't find anything better than stress that falls into the same responsibility way of life. Comfort? it seems too easy? Because i feel that...amy said today..."i can't believe that we've only lived here a week...feels like three months." I agreed....i was having the same thoughts wandering through the house today.
life has to be about the pain...at least for me. the good parts always come at the end, the comfortable parts always come the time before its over. its the regret question...yes, things could have been different, but i dont regret any of them. it does not wake me in the night, like an amputee feeling the phantom limb. Maybe its because i havent felt it before, it hasn't been a part of me. Or maybe we're always changing, maybe we're just the limb trying to find a body.
Paul in the kitchen says organization has always been my problem too. You just have to find a way to arrange yourself around the organization. DAMNIT DAMNIT three times again...like I always said, the best things can only be said once. Which is why, if you can't love yourself for anything else, just love the fact that you are the only one that heard it the first time
even if you dont remember it.

Theme of the Day: Shaq's acting and singing career?

i have major research to do for design ideas...for 116's new beer pong table, so these thoughts are going to be scattered and far less than profound.

a few things about friends first.
i'm so happy cuz today i found my friends
vanilla sky
probably thom yorke

why. why must some find friends as shallow play things? Superficial, ungracious, fake plastic friends. is it scar tissue? obnoxious feminists just really got stood up on prom night? the angry guitarist had an acne problem and got rejected by his true love in the third grade? i just wonder why. because friends, as people, are great.
i have comparison problems. i went to see steve and fish tonight. as soon as i walked through the door i felt it coming. Feelings of misplacement, inadequacy, stifled by awe of gods at work. They're only human, but they're really really good at being human...you know, really good with brains and thumbs.
There are some that challenge you and some that take care of you. I haven't had a female friend in awhile, at least not one i saw on an everyday basis and surely not four at the same time. I just have trouble figuring out why i find that the ones that challenge me are the ones that make me feel insecure and the ones that make me feel insecure are men. (Besides the obvious, damnit, that chick is so much hotter than me...which really isn't a challenge, but rather a simple statement of fact. opinion. ok fuck it, its just all whacked perspective) ANYWAY...does this teeter on the biological makeup conversation megs? Are we back there? Should we just accept? Appreciate the way a woman will care for anything that breathes and accept that we're looking for men to help bring us out of the dream we've been drowning in? I'm not talking about love, im talking about art.
To stop where i started, im thankful. I'm thankful that amy and neely and amanda and meredith are here everyday...to ask me how work was, to know my birthday, to just chat, simply, like the weather. i'm thankful that fish and steve and johnny are insanely intense and to use johnny's term of phrase...like disjunctive electronic music that stimulates parts of my brain that i dont get to use everyday. im revved up. thank you.

there are moments that pause when i think of all the things ive done, all the things i do, and all the things i will do. i feel a soft wash of pride. but i cannot help that i desire to be everything; to see everyone and and crave to do it too.

245 babies are born worldwide every 60 seconds
245x60min = 14,700 babies/hr
14,700x24hrs = 352,800 babies/day
352,800x365days = 128,772,000 babies/year

that's a lot of fucking inspiration

i did the same multistep last night with the money i might make.
perhaps this is the difference between inspiration and self-deprecation.

but
pain art life
lovely.

OXTURD, oHIo

i'm pretty good with words,
ive decided.
what im not good with is words
and alcohol.
we did these leg stretches in yoga (the ones where you lie on your back and use a long belt to pull pain out of the air and into your body) and when you put your stretched leg back down next to the unstretched one, it feels, by comparison, that leg has lost its container. It feels as though it has oozed out of the curvy calf baking pan and is now floating freely with the universe like an orange robe on a monk in the mountain breeze. What all this means, is that my mouth, in its entirety, finds this sensation when im drinking. But the experience is less than peaceful.
Philosophical theory speak should not enter into my conversation when my mouthparts are not working because philosophical theory speak should not ever enter into my conversation. There is a small elephant inside my head these days that asks, "why? what exactly are you learning here? more importantly, what the hell are you talking about? shut up. just shut up, ok? you wonder why people keep away from you at social gatherings? you're strange. i mean, im purple, but you're just fucked."
and its true.
because i'm pretty good with words,
but not while im drinking.

one more true tale from the heart

18 sucks, really.
i mean sure, its the next big step and everythings all exciting. For most of you, you just graduated from high school but that just means you have to go and reestablish your popularity in a place much bigger and far more elite than public high school.
You get to vote, but seems the world keeps giving birth to more and more assholes and they also get to vote and they vote for fellow assholes. There's a mirror in front of you and one behind and you're standing next to an asshole, but there's only one of you and an infinite number of assholes. It's really disheartening.
Speaking of hearts, by law you get to kill yourself with smoking, but you've already been doing that for 1,2, 12 years already, so the only cool thing about that is your attitude when you get to walk into a gas station without your hands shaking.
Then there's the gyno.

A woman is at risk of cervical cancer if she:

has sex before the age of 18
has multiple sex partners or has sex with promiscuous partners
history of a STD
smokes

well hell, 3 out of 4 aint bad.

I'm an open person, but i dont really feel a NEED to discuss some personal matters. So I'm writing this for a reason and if you're reading it and it applies, ill kill you myself if you dont listen.

I never went to the gyno or had a pap smear when i turned 18. Nor did i have one when i was 19 or 20, nor did i have any intentions of having one when i turned 21. But one day, earlier in the summer i decided, hell, i should do this. I'd never before felt so adult...mostly because i keep failing to recognize that i am one.

My doctor called me back. She said there were some "abnormal" cells in the results. Of course they're abnormal, they're mine. So i was referred to a gyno and i went today. He told me that they're at a precancerous stage and that based on the result of the next test they will either be monitored by pap tests taken every three months or i'd have to have surgery to remove parts of my little infected cervix.

No, i'm not going to die, i'm not even going to get sick. Yes, i can still have children if, god forbid, my estrogen finally kicks in and i want them. But my point is, GO. GO PLEASE. I'll go with you. I'll make crude jokes in the lobby and probably use the plastic vagina model as a puppet. You'll never say Aunt Flow again without bursting into laughter. I'm just thinking how lucky i am that i finally decided to go and that i wasn't served up a big plate of hate your fate life in the end. Cervical cancer is asymptomatic remember, so the only persistent nagging you'll have will come from me.

love you women

but the dreams are worth it

if you go to bed sweet
you wake up swollen

giddy bitty baby betty

i had a good weekend.

i would like to ignore the alcohol part of this happy equation. I'd like to believe that this is a karma thing rather than a chemical thing.

sarah smurf came to camp on friday, our last day.
The girls cried. Not because of sarah, but because it was our last day. I remembered Camp Luther when Christy and i cried the whole way home. I still have the bandana Ace gave me. Such a safe place. I love camp.
So we cleaned after it was all over and I found Tippy understands my strange finger sensitivities. if i get dirt under my fingernails, i freak out. My skin turns white right into a straight jacket and i try to bust the fuck out. Then, you know the shiveryness you get when someone scrapes their fingernails across a chalk board? I feel that in my two front teeth.
anyway, no one understood this before i met Tippy. this made me happy.

i left camp and got home and made yummy caprese salad and a lemon ginger martini with that succulent grey goose and i noticed that they spell grey with an e and so do i and no one else in the world does, so once again, i found a friend in common. When i was relaxing outside with my first smoke of the week (from a pack that i found in one of my boxes from oxy) and i marveled at how incredibly sexy smoke is and what a shame tis that its so damn bad for you. Then i thought, sarah should call me and what do you know my phone rings and i believe i have telepathic powers and that i really and truly am a special creature.

After i tell sarah that i'll drive and twice after i stop and go What did i just say? and catorce after a red stripe (which is from jamaica, did you know that? I didn't know that) and some shots of tequila, i get ready and, yes ill just say it, i look so cute cute. Ok, maybe im not a special creature. Anyway I pick sarah up and she says, amp tell me stories, which is a line i use on absolutely everyone so im a little taken aback. I haven't seen sarah in a year plus, so like perfect and normal my brain floods and empties itself all at the same time. It's quite the paradoxical genius, my brain. So i say i dont have any and i insist that she tell me stories instead, which she does...for a long time. They're the kind of stories where names are used with such a casualness that you become very preoccupied that these people are acquaintances of your own and you have now become the most hideous person because you have misplaced them in your social repertoire. I convince myself that no one is capable of following this conversation and no, you're not supposed to remember that same guy from 12 years ago that you never once in your life met. Then i begin to wonder if i am ever really listening to anyone when they talk to me, and i feel incredibly guilty about this but i swear its not my fault, i can't help it...and all the while sarah is still talking.


So we go to McDuffy's on 111th and Pulaski. I like the place, even if its a little trashy. I am a snob. I really am. I begin to think about Miami and i begin to irrationally compare it to state schools and this bar and how i really fucked up such a good place. For being such an analyst, im a really shallow little shit. Anyway, Sarah's friend liz comes and the girl is ridiculously gorgeous. She's got this square petit face and this skin that you'd love to make your bed sheets out of. She has a perfect mouth and these gorgeous teeth that held her Marlboro menthol 100s and i really loved her for that. And she was funny. Not witty funny, but you know, cute girl funny. God, it really does work like that doesn't it. So i was starting to be less bored. That was nice.

Anyway, we got to dancing. Not this girl and i, but everyone. I sang red neck woman for my father and then we stopped dancing. Sarah found the rest of her guy friends and she did her own little dance around them. When we were sitting earlier, she said we should play 20 questions. It's the most efficient way to get to know someone. I liked this idea. She asked me what my most embarrassing moment was and i quickly decided that i didn't like this game anymore. but i answered her anyway. I briefly told her about how i was going to make my debut in the manipulative business world when i joined a pyramid scheme by giving away my mother's credit card number. SPECIAL CREATURE. I couldn't seem to find any good questions so i decided on what her biggest regret was. She said she wished she wasn't so naive with men. This made sense after i got her "briefing" on all the men she's been with in the past 20 years. My point is im looking at her now, flirting with all these guys and i wonder if this is the thing for her that she can't help, that its not her fault.


How many psychiatrists does it take to change a lightbulb?

Only one. But the lightbulb has to really WANT the change.


I said i had a good weekend, I dont think I'm getting that across. For the next two hours i danced. I sweated my face off. I broke my necklace I was bumpin so hard. WHY? Because they played:
Toca's Miracle by Fragma
and a bunch of other really bad 90s eurodance music from my zombie nation convertible way too much anorexia and pot days and knew all the words and i was the happiest kitty in the place. I also quite enjoyed doing body rolls to Pour Some Sugar on Me which is terrible and they ended the night with James' laid and that was great. So i decided im still a kid with way too much energy. Its decidedly so that im gonna have to start using it again. I haven't had that much fun in awhile.

when i got home at 230, dad still wasn't home and that made me laugh. then i pulled out all my cds that have been at school for the summer and put in Talkie Walkie, which i listened to on repeat while in Australia. So im mildly drunk, freshly showered, my head filled with pictures of the southern night sky through the mesh of my mozzie dome and im deliriously bloody fucking giddy.

i woke up at 7, went to work, cleaned, killed a mouse with a rock, said farewell and came home again. Then i laid out in the sun all day and read harry potter, took a nap. when i woke up dad was gone again so i put the chambord the grey goose and some vanilla on the counter and realized again what a snob i am and how those two bottles put together could buy food to feed a small family for a month. Inspired by the energy of last night i searched and found! my DJ Micro mix cd and blasted the shit out of that for an hour. i gave myself a crap'e french manicure, found my green pants which were also at school for the summer and put those green pants baby blue and red all together in my favorite fashion color combination of all time. I decided i looked even cuter than i did the previous night so i went to David Delach's for his farewell party but before i did i went once again to my boxed treasures from oxy and found my "hang in there bear" from mom to give to Dave because i love him but im a terrible friend because i haven't talked to him in months. When i arrived to my surprise i found mr DS and cj and while we were running around dave's house looking for things to put up our noses i took a big happy deep breath to remember how much god damn fun i had with these fools in high school. And that was so because they're smart snobs, just like me.
I got drunk and attempted to tell puder we're going on an expedition to nevada to witness burning man. I talked to Johnson for a long time and convinced him to smoke and show me his new house. Coulda been the array of shit that was working its way through my system but the castle tripped me out. Massive. Gorgeous. Too many bathrooms. I read some very interesting newspaper articles written 12 years ago on monday april 12th (thats my birthday). I of course found this to be absolutely mind blowing. Then there was too much shit in my head so i had to get up and do something. I proceeded to pull an audrey hepburn down the front stairs, in the kitchen, dining room. Pointed toes and everything. ballerina moves in the dark, everyone sleeping. I figured since it was the johnson's that there were security cameras taping this. i did not care. if you have seen this house, you understand its power, especially for a wanna be theater queen. I finally left, had a very very long and paranoid drive home. But it was 5ish and the sky was turning that faded morning blue and the orange looked dusty and it was beautiful and i wondered when steven was getting home. Nick Drake put me to sleep. I was filled.

Dad and i went to Ruffled Feathers to play golf with dale on sunday. Well, i didn't play, i just drove the cart around and drank vodka lemonades. I love golf. I think its the most hilarious thing in the world. It's something about the golf carts, the way they drive - like little wind up toys. And the degree of comparison between all those acres of land and that little tiny ball that old men in their silly outfits keep running after. It's more than entertaining to see the focus in the approach, the time that passes before the ball is struck, or rather "chunked" then the resistance to throw the one of 1200 clubs these kids carry around against a tree. And the etiquette. I LOVE golf etiquette. And the terminology. Fabulous! 90 degree cart rules and slopes and doglegs and bump and run and hey dann, want me to mark it? Dad and i decided we'd develop should make 12 hole courses. The game takes 5 fucking hours to play. 5 hours. Thats redonkulous. But like i said, i just drove the cart around and drank vodka lemonades.

Dad and i went to McDonalds for dinner. I thought that was funny. And it was 11 dollars. That just seems wrong. So then, despite our russian floridian buzz and sun lethargy, we drove to LaGrange to see...Mr Blotto! Dad and i have been talking about doing this forever. It was nice that it finally got done. Plus, LaGrange is cute. Plus i was supposedly mad at him for awhile, so this was our lets hang out and be friends again ok? day. all is well with the world.

SO THEN, we get home and im still thirsty so i drink aussie cab and talk to jodo for the first time in forever and that makes me wonderously happy because jodo always has good things to talk about. And then i chat with Cat for the first time in forever and that makes me wondrously happy too. and then kellen comes online which is so rare and we chat and i discover that he has also sent me another e-mail and that is awesome because he letters are fantastic. AND THEN while im pissing on the pot my phone rings, which is also rare, and good heavens its my sweet peached stello calling to tell me he's home from xinprovenceois but all i remember from that conversation is me saying something how he's still the same and nothings changed and he gasps and retorts nothings changed?? Aparently, air franc'e does something to you. oui oui.

so thennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn i got sufjan stevens in my plugs and i light the tiki torch next to my hammock outside and the northern sky and i treat myself to a ciggy binge and im just, well drunk, but since this is a story about karma and not chemicals, im very very happy.

o oxygen

thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love


ewan mcgregor
paul simon
nick drake

this is my fantasy lullaby bed.

i like mail

i like stars because they are beyond humanity. arguably,
most things in this world have been touched/influenced/
whatever by humans. stars are
different. we can interpret
(astrology, whatever) but we do not
know. that dot shining could be completely something
else. id like to go there,
but i never will. id like to be more, but i never will. i like looking
at them because they are and we cant really
say why. sure, solar system et all,
galaxies and all that, but
really that light is coming from somewhere and
i (we) really cant say where/if it matters at all.
i am not going to
discover anything.
am not going to
break parallels. every time i look up
(when it is clear) i am humbled, and every time i
look around it is less clear.
when i look up, my life is wasted. when i look around, i accept.
nature of things/human nature, i guess, but
i want to feel like it could be something more or
can be something else. dreaming in color is nice, but
seeing in pieces is good. fill in the blank,
id like to know more.

kKoala, KW

Writen information can't teach. You can't question it. It can't defend itself when people misunderstand or misrepresent it. Written communication gives people "the false conceit of knowledge," a fake certainty that they understand something.

Chuck Palahniuk/Thamus

truth has a peanuty smell

sometimes, kids challenge you.
Most of the time, they're pretty straightforward. They ask for what they want. They tell you EXACTLY what they think. They teach you some moves from last friday's breakdancing class or demand your attention towards the new cheer they learned. Life, through a child's existence, is pretty simple.

but sometimes, pretty simple challenges you.

you're trying to explain kindness and respect to an eight year old. They're understanding the concept, they've made their apologies. the dramatized shit storm that just occured has passed. Then the sun comes out and they blind you by saying, "but i just dont want to be friends with her. Can you tell her that i just dont want to be friends with her?"

people are not supposed to all like each other. that's why we have innate interests. its creations way of cultural organization. i for one, do not like every make and model of person in the world. I dont like intellectuals. I don't much care for businessmen. I dont like girls that wear platform foam sandals. I rather not be arround arrogant folk, country music singers, people that complain too much, leeches. I imagine myself sitting at a picnic table, preferebly in pigtails and smoking a cookie jar cigarette trying to share the markers with my new "friends", trying to believe how important it is to make as many friends as possible here at camp. Use me, abuse me. Would you care for a light? Yes, yes i will thank you. Then there would be the leech.

"dont worry, taylor is just like this sometime. I'm sure you'll be friends by the time tomorrow comes around. Try to find someone else to play with today."
stall. the reject tries to make friends with taylor's replacement aquaintence and thus (thunder lightning strike) that bizzare love triangle. New Order. Ha.

Then there is Miss Miranda. There are some girls at camp that are slightly...off. Some are more obvious. Miranda may quietly hit some stages, among other things, pretty hard. She hit me pretty hard with this one.
She does not want to sit on the edge of the bench today, she did yesterday. The pairs of pretties at her table are asking her to move so they can sit next to each other. Twos against one...LeBon would argue that the twos are gonna win out. They do, no theory required. Miranda drops her shoulders and moves to the end of another green plastic picnic bench.
These things are never about sitting spots, or who did and who did not get the prize, or who did and who did not get the lime green water bottle. These are starting points on a psychologists wet dream. A child with honesty so blunt they could knock out a robber. Pre-genius and lacking deflection skills. A problem with a promising solution. Sometimes.

I'm tired of everyone telling me what to do! Tears. Everyone always tells me what to do. My friends at home always tell me what to do, they make my Barbie do all the bad things and i dont want to do it.
(forshadow, shit. Prepare questions.)
do you tell them that you would like to do something different?
They dont listen.
do you tell them that it bothers you?
They don't care.
Why do you play with them if they're not nice to you?
They're all i have. Tears Tears Tears.
(stop. draw blank.)

They're all i have. I want to erase her mind and put it back nice and spakling fresh. You're not supposed to know that yet Miranda. You're not supposed to know that you get thrown on a block or at a bus stop or in a school and what you get is whats there. Pick the apples with the least worms in them, the ones that have only one or two brown spots. Or worse yet, try to never think of yourself as the one in the dirt, under the farmstand table, half eaten by a robin; shriveled and wasted. I realilze that i know nothing about this child. The only thing i do know is that she asks too many goddamn questions, she complains and doesn't listen and I often find her dancing by herself on the porch of Ranch House. I look at all the other girls; they're laughing, singing sponge bob songs, playing with each others hair. The quiet ones look like oil painted portriats; even they have found each other. I look at Miranda. Would i be your friend?

See all the girls in our unit? You can be friends with any of them. How about you try sitting at that table where the girls will treat you better and not make you do things. You can be friends with anyone you want. I'm sorry that your friends at home treat you that way. You can be friends with anyone you want. How does that sound?
Nod.
Can i do anything else to make you feel better?
(everything that i'm worth has turned to dust and is now falling out of my mouth in the form of this ridiculous question)
Shrug.
Ok. Give me a hug.
Hug.

Miranda finishes lunch in two minutes; plays with her lanyard string alone on the front porch of Ranch House.
Part of me feels she's better off that way.

hello, this is swap and shop...

who was that woman?
that woman i just saw while walking out of the restaurant. She was sitting at a table by the door - glasses, a hat - like lois lane. She looked at me like she knew me and i said hello because i thought i recognized her, but i couldn't remember her name, so i just kept going out the door.
Now i can't even remember how i know her. I know i know her. I used to know her. Somehow she was very important to me; she helped me out in a time of trouble. She used to roll her eyes...id say something dumb and she'd roll her eyes and get me something i needed even though she didn't have to.
Maybe she works in the library, or the county recorders office, or at the newspaper. I think i may have been in love with her. No, she's too young, i was never in love with her, not in that way. It's just that i wanted something, needed something, and she was able to give it to me almost out of the goodness of her heart and now i can't even remember who she is. I'm sick. I'm old. I should just walk out into traffic and kill myself.
At home, at night, i go to sleep searching for the lost memory. Did i meet her down by the river in a canoe? or was it on a ferry in southeastern Alaska? or at the foreign correspondence club in Phnom Penh along the Mekong. She has something to do with water, with life, with mud.
I sleep poorly; turning and maybe even groaning in anguish. I do not care about the woman anymore, i am worried for myself. I feel as though there is a black hole in my brain and slowly, but surely its swallowing all the memories of my life.
I get up at 5:30 in the morning and drive to work in the dark. I feel terrible. I look like a piece of gum in the gutter. I pull into Java Joes to get some chemical help and there she is, behind the drive up window. I want to tell her i love her, but i don't because it would be too weird. All i can say is "wow" and she rolls her eyes and gets me my cup of coffee.

Scott Carrier

like

robin egg blue and red
coffee and cigarettes



Patrick Marber's "Peter Shelley" and Eels' "Susan's House"


i dont remember and i don't spark quick
but this (to me) i do.

O my, crazy bitch

It's summer sweetheart, lose the black mascara.

Yes that's right. time for new fingernail polish in yellows and pinks. time for legs and 97.1 and sitting watching the fire burn. to keep warm of course. to sit next to pretty and snuggle. smoochies.

parents are in california getting swept away by mass landslides. didn't notice. took into account napa valley and thought the grapes were just that good. were.

like licking toads.

because there's a come down down right? Yes, that's right. I've got 20s that aren't mine and propellerheads in the cadillac. and its loud. i turn it down at red lights. because yes, there is a comedown.

after the addiction.

nice clothes nice schools nice friends with pools and dogs nice vacations nice cars nice phones nice computers nice cookware nice house nice liquor nice shoes nice manicures nice bagged lettuce nice produce nice rings nice fountain pens nice drugs.
nice toads.

i know these things. its easy to clean up if you have money. i like these things? its easy if you have money. i'm trying not to.

what do you want?
calves and hip bones. a clothing line. to play the piano and sing. to cook. to animate and videotape. to ride and lead and laugh and show people how. to get my head to follow my hands. to write about it the way it is. to let it be.

to act?

pressure in the shell of all the dreams too big.

to love.

pish posh impossible. nothing is still something and it's impossible.


rubber ball with a neon foxtail and a big grassy field next to water.
swing it around (((((big circles big circles))))) with ideas ideas ideas
one big fast blurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

let it fly. where does it go. doesn't matter. theres one ball and theres one tail and when it lands it bounces back.
go fetch.

i want a cobblestone path and a brick archway out of the twister.
the sky is thick grey and the trees are bright like cutouts of something explosive against grey thick is the key.

there is no sound.

laugh

look around, what did you expect?

Daddy bought me this. Daddy bought me all of this. 29 days ago daddy bought me a new laptop, and I have 1 day left to buy office.

Kinda think that’s funny.
Kinda think its funny to see my daddy in an office. Kinda think its funny to see my daddy in his office, selling printing to people he understands, but misunderstanding things they buy. What do we buy. Do we buy words?

This is Microsoft (auto-wordily capitalized…amazingly, think about it) word. I keep typing off (and the automatice button prompts Office 2004 Test Drive User)

Yup, that’s right.

Automafice. Sounds right to me. This is why creativing writing majors don’t read over their work (think about it)
And this is why I do not ever want to have one of these things under my fingers again.

Megan,
If youre reading. You deserve this, for all these reasons. Ive found a few, grammar few, who I can rely on. When I start walking, or riding (im working on this one , thislife.org, episode, #111…funny you should search that site “adventures”) well my plan is to give this to you. You deserve it more than I do. You deserve well, the fucking world…black and blue, pink and white. I love you. What an amazing story you would make, thinking of me, walking/riding the world in your words. Oh wait, ive heard it. Good god, im so thankful you write.

Speaking of giving all you’re soul holds…

I thought, coming home, maybe after awhile, wouldn’t be so bad right?

I thought about that when I came clean to my bad ass high school grad colleage at UDF, whom I told, please do not go to college if you do not know what the fuck you are doing….

Well he’s going to be a business major and he’s a pretty boy, searching for a Miami apartment, so lets let the stereotypes abound until they call, then they cry, then they crawl back to you…

How about one more speaking of..

I thought coming home, maybe after awhile, wouldn’t be so bad right?

Wanna know why?
I love my family. I love my family so much. I love my family so much to let them know that I hate them. Yea that’s right. 2 of 3 of you have access to reading this and this is what I think.

I think we’ve been too nice for too long.

The Katrate Kid came out when I was born. So did 1984. The book, George Orwell? Well fuck if I read it, but dad, c’mon, you know about big brother???

So the same strange shit has been going on since the day I popped out (which, let me remind you, is the same womb you and I came from, meg…and the woman who owns it, well, I’ve been a little distant from. Imagine that beauty)

Well, Mr. Miyagi,
You taught me life is a journey, not a destination.
Sometimes I wish you knew your destination so I could know mine.

http://www.fast-rewind.com/kkid/
http://www.google.com/search?client=safari&rls=en&q=oxford,+OH+karate&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8
http://www.mymiami.muohio.edu/news_events.php
http://www.google.com/u/muohio?site=search&hl=en&lr=&ie=ISO-8859-1&q=miami+equestrian&btnG=Search
http://www.admin.muohio.edu/apps/miamijobs/jobsOnLine/positonDetail.cfm?positionNumber=2172
http://www.admin.muohio.edu/apps/miamijobs/jobsOnLine/positonDetail.cfm?positionNumber=2172

(just because this does not work, feel the bullshit…on fiberoptic communication…2x the unreal, so real…………………..something so fake. Resumes are obsolete. Look at what education has gotten you)

To whom it may concern:

I am a miami student looking for training in horse care and basic riding skills. I've had prior experience with horses, but the experience was through a family friend, very informal and quite some time ago. I'm looking for a stronger experience in attempts to obtain possible jobs at various ranches in colorado or montana. I will not be a full time student next semester so i cannot simply take an equestrian class through miami. I'm looking to do all stable jobs in return for time around the horses. Free employment! If you can help me, or give me any further unformation, i would be so greatful.

Thanks very much,
Meredith Lobsinger

…(rephrased)….
To the obsolete that has placed this add:
I’m a fuck up in your prestigious piece of garbage school passionately wanting a way out to live my life the simple way it should be. However, because of marketing manure that this country has put in to place, I am being a piece of shit (the same shit from a horses ass that I am willing to pick up for free, so you will see at the end of my well written proposal that will never be responded to) … o shit again, it looks like I have made my point. Well, how about a story that no one carse about. Well, I used to be small and free and stupid and thus brilliant, and I had a family who knew someone else who had a farm. Funny how the simple things like names slowly fade away.

Well beyond the cats in the hayloft and feeling the duty of shucking corn for dinner without having to be told, I remember taking a walk on a horse, not in the stable, or the ring off the left of the barn, I remember you all sitting there, and I think it was amy there walking me on a white horse, and well, get on your bootstraps, the horse shook its mane and nehed. Yea neh. Shook its mane, and I was on its back being walked around, and I think you all laughed, but I wanted to make it canter without amy behind me.

Funny how the things that hold so close, Mr. Miyagi are things we haven’t lost hold of at all.