you know.

People get old.

uh.

Have no idea what to write. Took a nap today. Tomorrow will probably be a snowday. If not, I'll eat a kitten.

Yeah, so. . .oh. I find Buddhism incredibly depressing. I'm very much not Buddhist. Have too much Ayn Rand in me or something. I want a book on Islam. And I want to finish the Bible.

Well. Nightmares are no fun.

This is has been The Most Interesting and Intellicually Demanding Blog You Will Ever Read and I wish you a goodnight.

young and bored 2

I'm young and bored, bored, young, cannot sleep, will not settle down, I am young and I am working in hours and I will not sleep, cannot settle down, I'm bored young and will not come down -

My feet only hurt as much as my head as much as my wrist as much as the burn as much as the absence as much as the fear as much as I am bored.

My car snowbanked itself and it doesn't bother me that's not a word not as much as the cold as the spying as the articles as the food as the weight loss as the young as the cat hair all over the carpet.

What are you looking at?
What do you want?

more garcia greatness.

Listening to a Grateful Dead radio really hits the spot. "Leave That Little Girl Alone" <- my theme song, I'll tell you what.

Working like a mo'. Eleven hours yesterday. Oh yes, oh yes.
I have nothing personal to reveal, nor do I want to. Times get hard and then they get mild, and it cycles. The pressure never changes, just the sensitivity.

A great friend of mine I love unconditionally like family is going through absolute hell right now and within a matter of weeks there's a great chance I may never see her or her daughter again.

My lover will be getting out in a little over a month and I better not see him again until November.
"The girl I love, she's sweet and true,
You the dress she wears, sweet mama, it's pink and blue,
She brings me coffee, she brings me tea,
She brings me 'bout every damn thing but the jailhouse keys."

All of this weighs on me, and the relief comes with exhausting myself on what is supposed to be my vacation. I am trying to be strong for both, one I can do nothing for but listen, the other the most I can do is not doing anything at all.

I have to be careful with voicing my concerns, as always, because I'm always watched. So. I'm finished. This is the closest you'll get. These next entries-I don't know how many I have to go-will probably dissapoint the pryful.

althea

I told Althea I was feeling lost, lacking in some direction.
Althea told me upon scrutiny that my back might need protection.
I told Althea that treachery was tearing me limb from limb.
Althea told me better cool down boy, settle back, easy Jim.
You may be Saturday's child, all alone, moving with a tinge of grace.
You may be a clown in the burying ground, or just another pretty face.
You may meet the fate on Ophelia, sleeping and penchence to dream.
Honest to the point of recklessness, self-centered in the extreme.Ain't nobody messing with you, but you, your friends are getting most concerned.
Loose with the truth, baby, it's your fire, but baby don't get burned.
When the smoke has cleared, she said, that's what she said to me.
Gonna want a bed to lay your head and a little sympathy.
There are things you can replace, and others you cannot.
The time has come to weigh those things.
This space is getting hot, you know this space is getting hot.
I told Althea I'm a roving son, and I was born to be a bachelor.
Althea told me, okay, that's fine, so now I'm trying to catch her.
Can't talk to you without talking to me, we're guilty of the same old thing.
Been talking alot about less and less and forgetting the love we bring.
Jerry, you speak for and through me. Your music is IV for a most captive soul.

oh. . .

Browsing through podcasts (because I am now just learning what such a thing is) under 'Literature' was something involving Harry Potter.

Just, no. Harry Potter is not literature. I do not even care if it fits the dictionary defination. That Potter kid can suck it through a straw, and all his middle-aged mom-fanatics can write fanfictions involving him, homosexuality, and various talking animals.

I'm working nearly forty hours this week! All with the feared manager! Hi-oh!

florida, florida, wasn't far enough. . .

Dear Various Cheerleaders of Maine:

I do not care how many stunts you nailed, or how many flips you didn't flop. There was one team who sported glittering, silver underpants and they automatically owned that competition.

Seriously.

I'm still trying to figure out how I even went. How I spent an actual Saturday at the civic center, listening to snippets of Grease and 'this is why I'm hot' in every single routine.

I suppose I can attritube it to Casey, and my lack of a life. Although, I could call up that a (luckily) former twenty-five year old co-worker who gave me his number before leaving, informing me I had one week until he hauled his flabby ass to Texas. And then I'd suck on some lead, perhaps puncture my skin in various ways, because I'd rather throw myself out of the highest window onto thousands of sharpened nails than be a red neck's booty call.

Maybe I should start wearing a ring, just so these people can just leave me the fuck alone. . .

peace?

In making mac 'n cheese? Who knew.

It tasted pretty bad though. I settled with an apple and now I'm here. Later, I'll be elsewhere.

So it goes.

documentary greatness!

Watch that. Red light district Indian kids get cameras and photography lessons, and struggle for an education to avoid the fate of prostitution and the like. At nine, ten, eleven years old. Remarkable and sad.

you can find it at alluc.org.

Of course, you have to love this that Casey sent me:

an angry tribute to my mother:

I have little idea what to write here, as I always have to watch what I write on this computer. Kind of kills anything personal I want to record.

Like my mother's outstanding helplessness and hypocracy. Why would I destroy someone else's family? Why would I want a relationship with someone that much older than myself? What caused all of this? Why don't I feel guilty?

It's funny, Mother Dearest, because I could've sworn in court you claimed I was a victim, that I did nothing wrong, that I was manipulated by a predator. And since when have I become a sociopath? Since when does this guilt not plague my concious? Since when would a simple mental disorder, or schism in childhood, constitute the reason I sob at night, the reason I still think of him everyday, the reason I write, the reason I put up with the label of the town's whore because of my honesty, the reason I still face these people everyday. It couldn't be genuwine feelings for the man whose habits mimic mine in relation to myself. Or the sense of responsibiliy I have for my actions. No. Something is indeed wrong with me.

Amazing how, if you're not understood, you're automatically crazy. Because every person is exactly the same, and everyone can understand eachother. People all have the same exact values, the same exact beliefs. It's why our whole wide world lives in peace and why all of our different cultures have the same exact laws and punishments.

Fuck you, you who thinks you know me. My mother thinks I think I know everything. Why? Because I know myself? Did I ever say what was right, what is wrong? The only thing I claim to be 'is', is myself. How would she know me? She who scolds and rejects any sort of human emotion, supresses human behavior and encourages facades and lies. I've never said I know something concretely, and I don't act it, either. It's just her interpretation of my defenses.

In which, I find her idea of happiness hilarious. She's a workaholic with a husband who bullies and belittles her. He's one of the most ugly people I've ever met. This is her idea of the life for me? A slave to economy and a man? Right. . .

I don't know why I was so surprised. I should be used to this form of abandonment. This habit of as soon as she doesn't know what to do, how to be, she throws me to someone else to raise. To devour. To digest. My resilence to the process is remarkable, and painful, and I cannot wait to rid myself of someone so present in my life and yet so unavailable.