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.

String Cheese Incident

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.