one year for every hour in a day

mother nature at least agrees with me. overcast and raining. just this side of cold, able to wear shorts and a t-shirt without shivering. even the birds have mostly shut the fuck up. now, if the sun never makes an appearance it will be the perfect day. one made to spend in bed. or drinking. maybe I'll do both. they say don't smoke in bed, nothing about drinking.

and damn him for making me remember. even if it was sweet. I was happy to forget.

I'm thoroughly amused by one person's childish perdictability. on this day it feels good to wish them hopes of growing up. even though I know it will never happen. at least I'll always be light years ahead.

odd rough rough draft.

I wonder


Are my intentions
written clearly
on my face?

am I as
out of control
as I feel?

Do you know
how hard
I'm trying
not
to run my hands
up
your thighs?

despite
knowing,
I'm just an
accessable replacement
for someone
you know
you can't
have.

despite
knowing,
I have no
capability
of letting myself
love someone
anyway.

so far,
those
compelling reasons
haven't kept
my eyes from tracing
the contours
of your body,
or my hands from twitching
wanting to follow,

constantly
asking myself
what if?

chromosomes

such contempt for the xx pairing. in the future save someone a lot of heartache. just fucking adopt if the y is so important to you. don't get married. and spend your time in the locker room. then you won't ever have to deal with such unpleasantness ever again.

god, your mother would be so disappointed in you.

I have never been so happy to not have a penis in all my life.

We've sat like this
for years
of our lives
the seats may have changed
(though mostly bucket)
the cars have definitely
changed,
the scenery is different
growing older
right along with us.

We may have moved
from the way back,
to the back,
to passenger
and driver
but we're still
provoked to confess
by the darkness
whipping passed;

talking to eachother
through lyrics
of music played too loud,
through screaming,
for screamings sake
through clasped hands
and speed.

flicking caution
out the open windows
like ashes
from our cigarettes

seeking penance
by the lighters light
and absolution
by the dayglo dashboard

Some things
are easier said
when you know
the person will
always
be beside you

never in front of
or behind.

confessions

ok, so. I've got to talk about something that has been bothering me for awhile. and it's kind of a touchy subject. some people may not understand my viewpoint. but I can't keep it to myself any longer. at any rate this is going to be hard for me to work through, so some lenience please.

*deep breath*

why is eric roberts haunting me? seriously. why am I always seeing that guy on t.v? what rabid twist of fate led to his career of every music video ever. I've really tried to be calm about this. but I have no problem admitting I've cracked. I think this is just a small manifestation of a musical crisis I'm going through. and with the way trends are going I don't believe I'll be coming out of it any time soon. I still blame eric roberts.

at least rob thomas has cut his hair. it's the little things, I guess.

off to sleep, and if I dream of eric roberts, you'll hear me scream.

a moment of silence...

or however you choose to acknowledge a passing.


for my car. and everything therein.



thank you.

half thought through, a third finished...

it's funny to realize when someone has lost faith in you. to realize everyone has lost faith in you. even funnier to realize you have lost faith in yourself. too many of my sentences begin with the condition " I used to..." or " I'm not usually like this but..." what happened? where along the way did I lose everything I used to be? I have my sneaking suspicions when it all begain. too long willingly giving myself away in pieces, to shore up those that never gave a fuck where the support came from. or even realized whose back they are consistently standing on. eventually there is a limit, or at least in my case, everything has run out. and now, when I need to give, there is nothing there. and most days I can't even bring myself to care.

but I am tired of dissapointing. of hearing that resignation in people's voices in reference to me. of feeling justified because after all, someone did it to me first. of constantly turning everything into something about me. and please, refrain from pointing out how that last statement directly contradicts the entire point of having an online journal. the irony hasn't escaped me.

I don't know how to rebuild people's faith, because I don't know how to rebuild myself. I'm not sure I even want to.

the twilight zone

here's how the conversation went:

you: you know, I'm thinking we should make the deadline christmas

me: really?

you: yeah, you know, just have there be nothing to do when we come back for christmas.

me: ok.

you: see my point? I mean we could finish next week and yay, but the deadline is december.

me: yeah, no, that makes total sense. I see your point.

how the conversation should have gone:

you: you know, I'm thinking we should make the deadline christmas.

me: are you completely fucking crazy? there is no fucking way. nutjob.

*sigh*

tradition

usually I only have my memories to toast on this day and a promise to keep. but, this year brings a double edged sword. something to make the memories achingly clear. so much so that I've lost myself a few times to the movie reel in my head.

to pupey: all the roads lead back to you. whether I want them to or not.

to the future and those that have one.

drink up.

cuspy

here's where being half gemini kicks my ass.

I love my best friend. he's a wonderful man. and he's had to work really hard to get that way, past obstacles that put lesser men under. And for all intents and purposes he is considered a part of my family. though never by me. our relationship is too complicated to be put safely in a labeled category.

My father is sick. And soon will be going in to have some massive surgery. The closest sister and her husband are two hours away. and me and my other sister and her husband are on the other side of the continent So while my dad can't do anything, it's a bitch for her and her husband to make the trek every weekend to take care of things. Not that that is a complaint of theirs. but logistically if something needs to be done on a daily basis, or an emergency happens, they aren't going to be much help. So boo calls my mother up at work and says 'hey if the driveway needs shoveling, or whatever. the girls need a ride from the airport when they come in. anything. call and let me know.' That's an incredibly sweet thing right?

So why is my first instinct to be wicked annoyed? And want to tell him to back off?

Because I'm fucking insane.

And I hate information I can't control.

I claim no responsibility for the words that follow...

so here's the thing. I don't like drugs that aren't recreational. For a lot of different reasons. A big one being if I'm gonna fuck with my mind and body it sure as hell is going to be for something more fun than a fucking tylenol. So I live an over the counter drugstore free life. Or at least I try really hard. I admit, sometimes I cave to people nagging me and I'm not an idiot, if a doctor prescribes something I take it. Usually.

what's that? what's my point you say? well I'll tell you. I've been sick. This in itself is an unusual thing for me. So much so that I've had to listen to people be all shocked and weirded out about it. "what? you're sick? man, that's just weird." Now there is an inherent trait that is genetically encoded into each member of my family, I think it stems from my mother's side, wherein we worry. About the strangest things. So my sister is always convinced I am dying. Maybe because I was all sorts of fucked up as a youngin, but that's an entirely different pity me story. She made up her mind that she was trucking the 8 blocks to walgreens and getting me medication. Long story short (too late!) ((+5 points to your 'I like you' column if you can name the movie reference)) I've been cracked out of my mind for far too many days.

I hate the way this shit makes me feel. I become extremely disassociated. I don't mean groggy. I mean sociopathic disassociated. Like you know you're stabbing someone 44 times but you can't make the connection that that's a bad thing. So besides freaking out the nice people letting me live with them, I am seriously beginning to doubt my ability to function in normal society.

On the plus side I think things like this and am actually inclined to share them:

Have you ever read a toothpaste tube? Am I the only one just a tad freaked out by the dire warning: If you swallow more than the amount recommended for brushing (roughly pea size) you should get medical help or contact Poison Control immediately. And beyond that. Has anyone ever tried to kill someone with an overdose of toothpaste? I want to see a murder mystery surrounding that MO. Or a comedy of suicidal errors ala the beginning of Better off Dead.

this is me on no fun drugs. Someday I'll do an entry on fun ones. Sadly there might not be a difference.

click click

There are lots of things I could be saying. some good, some bad, some I'd like to keep lying to myself about. so words are not where I am at. Instead, I'll direct you to a few places that have been occupying my attention for one reason or another.


not for jackasses

hidden watson

fandom

geeky

grim reaper

for every good piece, there are several bad

Nothing ever
falls apart
casually

When things
fall apart

They fall apart
so hard

No period
of calm,
just debris
flying every which way,
but up

a cacophony

but that's life.

I understand that
I really do

I've been trying to
be your pillar,
something
to hold onto

what I'm
rapidly beginning
to realize
is that
the trouble doesn't lie
in you holding onto me
but rather
me
holding onto you

each little bit of
distance creeping in
leaves me
at a loss
on how to stop
you from
drifting away
on a current

dorothy and the twister
all over again.
**********************************

(emotional maracas)

it's a good thing
you can't
pick people up
and shake them

to hear them
rattle inside
from all the pieces
broken

it's a good thing
I don't clatter
as I walk
down the streets

giving away
the fact that
I am mangled

I've been
playing
at living
so long

getting by
cause no one
can hear

no one can detect
my fragmentation

it's a fool that swears to you
they can't act.

now that the
time has come
to be everything
I've been
pretending to be
I don't know
where to begin
picking up my pieces

how to fit them together

or how to keep them
from divulging
the truth

when I fall.
**********************************

pushed
to the point of distraction
it's all
bubbling up inside you
isn't it?

I'd resort
to arm chair
psycho babble
to feel like
I know you,
know what's going on

reassure
where there is
not a leg
to stand on

except that
each minute
that ticks by
cracks me open
like a sieve
where every doubt
I keep reined in
begins to leak out

I'm on the bottom
looking up
from a pattern I've already
fallen into.

again.

You'll notice
I'm gone
by the time
it's too late.
**********************************

I hate to ask

really.

One more thing
to add to your plate.

I understand
if you simply
haven't the time

honestly.

being last minute
and all.

but could you
spare a minute

to help me
hold it together?

I'm afraid

if I take one more step
I'll crumble.