halloweenie

I was watching my friend move across the dance floor.

She was dosed in blood from head to toe; her hair in ridiculous braids on either side of her much too old head. Wearing only a white slip, which I suppose in the same situation would be deemed sexy but in this particular scene was empty and cold. Her face was blank as she passed me by. Once I got her attention she turned to me, her face more sullen and vast and sad then I have ever seen it. "Have you seen my friend Marco and my friend Caitlen," both of whom I have meet before. She was looking at me like a stranger, which I guess we had become. At that moment she seemed so far removed from reality that she was like a ghost to me. She was the reminder of all the times I was endlessly searching for someone. Half dead or Half drunk and it made me...it made me...it made me something I've neither the vocabulary or the emotional depth to understand. So I left. In the arms of someone I love. In the arms of someone that I have found through my half drunk half dead search.

and I guess this bloody spectre with disco lights behind her and pulsating bass around her will stop being a symbol.




for both our sakes.

Dammit

So I've stopped the progress (comma lack of?) on my plizzy. <-----wait, that sound too much like piss, or not enough. I should probably "go there" more. Play, I mean play!

My lack (I almost typed lake) of progress is mostly due to 1 thing.

I'm super super super super, like super duper, lazy...and horribly crippled by my own feelins' of inadequacy.

Hell ya inadequates! Put ya hands in the air and wave them like you just don't care that you don't wave them as well as other people. Who are they to judge? You know? Maybe you just wave your hands different? Because I mean, come on, if eeeeeeeeverybody waved them the same then, then, then, ummm...oh, you were clapping? Well that's just...embarrassing. Put your hands down, just...put. them. down.

Or or or, no listen, or, that I really had no concrete idear of what my jam was gonna be about.

It was going to be something about something. If that isn't concrete than I'm certain I don't understand what the word concrete means!

But for realsies you guys? Now that I'm starting to think about this play thing more? I actually wasn't really going for it. I was thinking in these kinda abstract (expressionist) ways. I was getting ahead of myself. I was going right to the abstract with out getting my stract on. You know?

Boy has Wife; Boy has Girlfriend; Boy has Best-friend.

Boy has crippling disease that is slowly breaking down all his facilities to act like boy has normal life. Boy will go to any length to stop it.

Maybe boy just needs to fucking sleep.

donuts and with no nuts

I google image searched "hipster donuts" and i got this:





lame.

and I'll blog if I want to

It's my birthday

just in case you didn't know. just in case you failed to notice. just in case you couldn't take off of your busy schedule. Because it always you you you isn't it? and this one day, this time, where it might just be about me, you don't remember. It doesn't even cross your mind. I didn't even ask for much. I didn't even ask you to do anything above and beyond what would be considered just...just something that anyone would be more than happy to do. Or at least fake it for one day at least.

What do you do that so important? Just make up stories all day. Stories that don't even make fucking sense.

One day a little boy was walking by a field. A field that he had been to many times. Each time the boy would study the field learning it's landscape it's texture; the smells, everything seemed empty, dirty. The boy was fond of the pool of water that was near the field. The pool of water wasn't something that you would call nice or pretty or even pleasant. The water in the pool was shallow and stagnant, teeming with unknowable things. It buzzed and hummed but there was no movement in or around it. No swarm of flies or mosquitoes or whatever common thing that was found elsewhere was found here. The little boy one day gathered as much courage and strength that he could find. Walked to the pool pulled out his gun. He was together with the pool. But the boy did not become a part of it, no, the outside infected him. Yes, there it he was mingling with the pool; oil in water. Not all of it, not even much it; the rest his body, his skull and bones and guts, belonged to the flies and all the base things he was so desperate to be separated from. But, of course, the boy knew none of this, all that was reflected in his eyes was the pool with it's murky water and his blood finally joining the shore.


happy birthday, I mean happy halloween, I mean, I mean

here again

It's been a while (A MONTH! {actually a month and a week!}) since i've written in here!

I've dusted the corners free of the cobwebs (halloweEeEn), all pearly and irridescent that have blossomed with lack of activity. Hacked away the ivy that has run wild making my blog it's home.

My blog!

My blog!

My blog!

See? Different emphasis! Different! emphasis! That means I care! Or that I simple don't know how to say sentences in order for them to make sense.

(it's been a while) <--- that was supposed to be said in a Southern Accent™.

iyt's bin ah y-ahwl (better!)

So the spookiest of all months is upon us. Slowly but surely the leaves are dropping, the weather is changing , the cardigans are pulled on everything everything everything is starting to go to sleep and will soon wake up as ZOMBIES!

\

I was loosing you there, I could tell.

I went to a haunted haus or as a mr. dennis cooper calls it a SPO0O0OKY House (extra O0O0 mine) with the ole bouyfrienz. Yes you heard it here first, if i've never met you in real life, and our only form of communication is this is blog. If there is sucha person(s?) out there, hello!

The haus was called Blood Manor™ it was spooky and more than a lil cooky and it made me want a hot dog, well corn dog rul bad.

But where was I? Oh yes! It's OCTOBER.

which means my motherfuckin' birthday.

me

me

me

me

Amirite

As a gift I promise to post more!

you're welcome?

I can't explain

So the Wiikend is upon us.

I use the royal "us" curz this weekendz isn't upon me.
What is upon me is tomorrow I have to work (YOU BETTA WERQUE). I will once again haul my half dead/half drunk carcass out of my womb-room; off my Ikea bed (60 dollaz ya'll), make like a tree and slowly wilt away and die, my leaves falling off as the briskness of fall seeps into my trunk AND GO TO WORK.

If that made any sense to anyone they need to get their noggin' noodled with.

I've basically been looking at gif's of the Jersey Shore™ all day. So I'm keep this lil jolly open and we'll see where the non-weekend weekend takes us? a'ight?

a'ight.

So after work, on Friday, i got my fettucini alfredo on (I almost typed fattucini alfredo SAME).
I ate an entire thing of that last night.

It was probably meant for two people but since my boifrienz is off jet setting to LA with his white thigh high go-go boots and micro-mini (that's the image i get whenever I use the term "jet-setting" which is why I use the term so much), with his sister.

TWIN sister fyi

(it's nothing like this....or is it?...it's not.)

Saturday came and gone and you blinked and it was still there but you turn your head for a moment, for a moment, then it leaves you, with your book in your hands and without a word to say.

I had a nice dinner wit my sista.

Well, I ate dinner I had two big ass slices of my moms lasagna.

OK listen:

1.) my moms lasagna is the shit

2.) there is no number two because there is no need.

It tasted exactly like I remembered it, which is saying something since it had been, oh about 6 years or so since I've last eaten it.

AND GURRRRRRL IT WAS GOOOOD

it was very good. My mother, is a wonderful cook.

After some pleasant conversation I went home.

And presently I'm watching Jersey Shore™

I will be watching Jersey Shore™ all day. Don't judge me.

Not after what I saw you do that one time at that one thing. Don't think I don't remember.

even though

Sometimes, many times, well most of of time; no no no, mostly some of the time, you start to feel kind of, just, yuuuech. You know?

It's all those new things swirling around. unending.That's not right. What a waste. Shown, I guess, what you thought you had or didn't have or have never had being shoved in your face.

Good

I'm glad we got all that out of the way. It's right and it's normal and you feel like an asshole for fucking it up. Because, you don't know how to not be a jerk. So you don't and you try and you hope it's enough and if it isn't enough, well, you'll keep trying because that's the only thing you can do.

That's what it is.

Did anyone notice that I didn't say one thing in this blerg post.

not
one
damn
thing



image via : Buzzfeed