HAHAHA

have another mistress, have another.



i bowled a 186 on friday. highlight of my week...maybe even the whole month!

theres a silence in my blood

something that moves me
to defend you

there's a silence in me
to make you doubt

when im watching you

have you an invite
have you given something

from birth
from sisterhood
from soul

from sound.

this is the silence that moves me

beneath the floorboards
of the oldest house
beyond the patterns
of the first doubts

tell me
tell me please
soft
tell me when
just tell me
i'll know you when
i knew you before
tell me
look look love
you'll never
smile

ill exchange when silence pleases.

theme song

I had a dream last night. It was very espionage-esk. There was a group of us girls, not dressed in amazon clothes but formal gowns for a political rally of sorts. There were many rooms.

We had to figure out who kept taking the pictures of the dead people hanging from the ceiling and who was killing them too. I spoted her first. Blonde without the mask. No one believed me. I remember the conversation about protecting my innocence. I laughed. Ha. Ha.

Pieces were missing from there, but i found her hiding place. I tried to ask Mrs. Bartlett for information but she wouldn't have me. Bitter first lady, dealing with the amatures. I understood.

I remember pinning her to the ground. The bloody photographer, not the first lady. She squirmed like a slippery congressman. I managed to clam her down and get both her legs and right arm under my knee. She confessed. I asked, "what gives?" She told me about the times she was in control and everything was perfect at 76th and 127th st. A moment of silent inquiry...my old bus stop. Everything was perfect until i came along and Cole Balogh shifted his aim.

Professionalism fell to shit after that remark becacuse i laughed for hours about how this all came from a gradeschool crush and what a stupid ass world this is and then she pointed out that i didn't understand politics so i walked home in the rain and somewhere around the Crestwood Ice Arena i got picked up by the motorcade.



(Cole, if you're reading this for some reason....i dunno either...i just needed something to write about today ;)

dimensions of a 10ft bridge by means of 2X4s

really?
you fall for men that are "smart?"

did you think i was smarter?

sit. sit here and feel what you've put into yourself for the hopes of something greater and write. Hoping is stupid if you're stunted by the simplicity of greatness.

no, go. go and fix the problems that you've created in abscess, in the thoughts that provide. come around again and grab the keys to fix the problems created with words by saying more again and thinking less.

leave, leave now. Leave now while the feelings are suspended and the spirits are high and blind to doubt. Leave now before the fatal connection is made, between the lips, between the eyes. Leave now before you question who wants it more and who wants it less.

go again, go. find something else. find a better place to be. ride out the high of perfect timing. search for someplace good, but not too good. keep the edge of pessimism, but dont drown in paranoia. find the one, the group who can bring this by making phone calls, by writing digital messages.

surge, surge ahead. ride out the urgency in which you park and exit your car. dont notice where you are, keep focus on what is to come. remind yourself of the visions you had days ago about the plans that you made for tonight. this is the night, because this is the night.

talk yourself up. this is not the climax, stay relaxed. wait patiently. get another drink. occupy your hands. remind yourself to smile. keep coaching, keep on. stop looking, start talking. make a better connection, break through. come on. come one.

hi. hi. giggle while the friend falls down on you. giggle again and excuse everthing. make a smart remark. forget it when it's missed. keep smiling, it's ok to feel awkward. drink. watch him leave. watch. if a friend is there, they will nudge you. they will say smile. you'll get angry at the fact that you were really trying. think about what it took to get a friend there.

what did i think of you before i knew? hard to say, i care about you now. is this when? is this when i had my own thoughts...since they're gone now because you've shared.

ever warn someone before they date you? she asks.
if there were ever a chuckle so sincere.

i can see you from a distance. I can see that you are man or woman. I can see that you are tall or short. I can see that you are fat or thin. I can see that you your hair is long or short. I can see that your skin is dark or light. I can see that you stand on the other side of this bridge and that is all i can see.

I see the bridge is wet. I see the bridge gets darker with rain, i see the wood makes a difference and i dont know how to say that. I see between the planks that have been cut somewhere else that i can't see, that i can see a river beneath. I can see my shoes misplaced and my hands archaic on a rope given to give steady. And then i see you.

Your hair is not dark or light, but red and short. Your eyes are brown. Your skin is filled with curves and shadows. The bags under your eyes make you seem sad. You are taller than me. The hair that grows underneath your chin and down your neck is uneaven and sparce. You have freckles on your arms and a tattoo on your right wrist. You are missing your left pinky finger. You wear two rings, silver. Your eyes are brown.

there is not much to make you come. the air is wet, the bridge wood is damp and the soles of our shoes are artificial. Saving something chivalrous, i escort my hand to lead the way. At your back, i look to the side of the bridge at which you once stood. I take my shoes off. Remind yourself to smile.

Strike Box Matches, 250 count.