I can't tell stories.
He says i'd be better off if i tried.
I think he may be right. Or maybe not.
I went to an abs class last night at the rec. 30 minutes of "attack position". Jackie our instructor said that we accomplished something tonight. It was the best thing ive heard all month.
I believe that half hour meant more to me than all the years ive been in school. Perhaps not the first year and a half. Why? Because i was doing something. I was using my hands. I was engaged in the process.
I can talk endlessly about the things i have done. The things i did for a period of time; the things i got to know. I've stopped doing and started thinking. Suddenly everything has become intangible, everything has become some byproduct of an everlasting headtrip. Tell me how to tell stories about that.
If i could just believe that all but one is a waste, then i would be OK.
There are eight (if i am not mistaken) individual swimming events at the high school level.
I was pretty good at all of them (except for 100 back. I do not believe that asking someone to float around on their back is conducive for proper competition...weirdos)
But I was not stellar at one of them. I asked myself time and time again if it was worth it. Was it worth it to be pretty good at all of them? To be considered versatile is more valuble than being a champion?
I said it was but i was just trying to make myself feel better. Thats some painful shit for it not being worth it.
(But i could split a 25 in fly and damn they to believe that they could take back those yards after brennan and i got done with them. Who Dey.)
I think i will exhaust life as i know it, as it comes to me. I do not decline opportunities to experience something that i have not yet experienced and i will never walk away from a conversation where i can learn something new. But i cannot stay there forever. so i must therefore get to know this uncomfortable feeling of patience, versatility, and the speed at which it all passes me by.
I'm not ending on that because that's just damn cheesy.
A coconut is the largest known seed in the world. Once a coconut falls from a palm tree, it takes about three years for this seed to take root and sprout into a new tree.
I'm moving to San Diego becuase its freaking snowing here.
And i dont give a hoot that its still January.
All in favor of spitting into the wind?
eye.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Thursday, January 12, 2006
ive found a secret, of course
punctiliousness
I. Need to convince myself that i matter. Because i cannot tell everyone else what i know.
megan, i love you.
I. Need to convince myself that i matter. Because i cannot tell everyone else what i know.
megan, i love you.
Dear Future Me,
Hello. How are you? I am fine. I am happy.
Let this be a reminder to your worthless entity.
I'm filling out applications to schools again. I'm getting excited. The majority of this excitement comes from having something to do today. When you dont feel like doing anything and you start to resent school again, please remember that i am here feeling joyous because i am filling out school applications.
You choose.
I'll be in touch.
-Jerry
Let this be a reminder to your worthless entity.
I'm filling out applications to schools again. I'm getting excited. The majority of this excitement comes from having something to do today. When you dont feel like doing anything and you start to resent school again, please remember that i am here feeling joyous because i am filling out school applications.
You choose.
I'll be in touch.
-Jerry
Thursday, January 05, 2006
i have previously posted 69 times
and the jokes never die.
i keep thinking about what to write next and then i forget to write and then i just forget altogether.
fact is im tired of the things im thinking about because i whine and complain and i apologize for it which only makes people get the sad brow and reassure me which then just pisses me off because i start thinking about gender sterotypes and how women are and how its not really true which just brings me back to second guesssing myself and twisting my brain tighter into the knot of which it is circular thinking.
but lets try this.
I, Meredith Lobsinger, solidified in identity by the script on her nametag, am:
no.
haha, nevermind, im drinking so i dont want to go there right now.
there are just too many options every moment of the day.
dont study english. you can get all tripped up on anything else and how many options there are but at least you can still talk about them. When you study speech, you become inhibited to talk about how you talk about speech.
maybe i do freak myself out but for freckles sake i lose my words. I wish i didn't have to. i wonder if sign language has a word for "front" or "assonance" or "autonomy".
there is nothing without language.
i gotta start doing something im good at or ill bust. I can't stop myself from thinking about all the stupid shit ive done.
I hit Jenny Rounds in the back of the head with a softball during warm ups when Mr. Dillon made me catch for the first time.
I got involved with a pyriamid scheme because i was desperate and thought that my manipulation skills would really pay off this time (fantasy/reality...o you have no idea)
I told Ferk that i hoped he was proud of me during his retirement party and ill never ever be able to get the image of his face out of my head for as long as i live. And so long live the frustration.
well ok. thats it really. God forgive me for those, this is blogger therapy.
fact is there's nothing wrong with me. That's a scary fact. Give up get married go to church and get a job. Buy a couch, some laundry detergent, a potato peeler.
I'm afraid of originality. I'm afraid that i dont have any. I dont want to listen to anyone else. I dont really want to go look it up on the internet. O im rolling now.
Today while i was at the rec rocking my elyptical machine and silently competing against the girl next to me without looking like i was trying...
i stare at the construction workers building the new ice rink from the windows. I'm not really thinking of anything but i try to. I wanted to drape a sign from the scaffolding about our insane "health concious" culture and i was wondering how i could get up there or how i could hang some large cloth banner and i immediately thought of the internet.
of course, i can go look it up on the internet.
i hate the internet.
but thats where i am aren't i?
and so are you.
i keep thinking about what to write next and then i forget to write and then i just forget altogether.
fact is im tired of the things im thinking about because i whine and complain and i apologize for it which only makes people get the sad brow and reassure me which then just pisses me off because i start thinking about gender sterotypes and how women are and how its not really true which just brings me back to second guesssing myself and twisting my brain tighter into the knot of which it is circular thinking.
but lets try this.
I, Meredith Lobsinger, solidified in identity by the script on her nametag, am:
no.
haha, nevermind, im drinking so i dont want to go there right now.
there are just too many options every moment of the day.
dont study english. you can get all tripped up on anything else and how many options there are but at least you can still talk about them. When you study speech, you become inhibited to talk about how you talk about speech.
maybe i do freak myself out but for freckles sake i lose my words. I wish i didn't have to. i wonder if sign language has a word for "front" or "assonance" or "autonomy".
there is nothing without language.
i gotta start doing something im good at or ill bust. I can't stop myself from thinking about all the stupid shit ive done.
I hit Jenny Rounds in the back of the head with a softball during warm ups when Mr. Dillon made me catch for the first time.
I got involved with a pyriamid scheme because i was desperate and thought that my manipulation skills would really pay off this time (fantasy/reality...o you have no idea)
I told Ferk that i hoped he was proud of me during his retirement party and ill never ever be able to get the image of his face out of my head for as long as i live. And so long live the frustration.
well ok. thats it really. God forgive me for those, this is blogger therapy.
fact is there's nothing wrong with me. That's a scary fact. Give up get married go to church and get a job. Buy a couch, some laundry detergent, a potato peeler.
I'm afraid of originality. I'm afraid that i dont have any. I dont want to listen to anyone else. I dont really want to go look it up on the internet. O im rolling now.
Today while i was at the rec rocking my elyptical machine and silently competing against the girl next to me without looking like i was trying...
i stare at the construction workers building the new ice rink from the windows. I'm not really thinking of anything but i try to. I wanted to drape a sign from the scaffolding about our insane "health concious" culture and i was wondering how i could get up there or how i could hang some large cloth banner and i immediately thought of the internet.
of course, i can go look it up on the internet.
i hate the internet.
but thats where i am aren't i?
and so are you.
Dear Jodo,
early this morning, i ate a 36$ steak with my fingers while standing in front of my refrigerator completely blitzed out of my mind.
so no, i dont think im quite ready for culinary school and professional chefdom
but thanks for the encouragement.
i believe that people who say that they do not care what other people think of them
are liars.
so no, i dont think im quite ready for culinary school and professional chefdom
but thanks for the encouragement.
i believe that people who say that they do not care what other people think of them
are liars.
Friday, December 02, 2005
what secrets have you recently realized in private?
Monday, November 28, 2005
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.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, November 05, 2005
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
O BTW
dont give a cynic
unconditional love
and money they'll never have to pay back.
there's a counter thought to that.
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 :)
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 :)
Saturday, October 29, 2005
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
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
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
Saturday, October 22, 2005
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
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
Friday, October 21, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
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
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
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.
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.
Monday, October 17, 2005
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.
Friday, October 14, 2005
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
-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
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