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 :)