Thursday, May 31, 2007

arrives at noon


I am having a slight hysteria attack.
I can't stop laughing.


goin' insanes, i.

Monday, May 28, 2007

afraid of missing something

oh, but you know this isn't allowed? you know this isn't allowed? this isn't allowed!
he isn't thinking of you at this moment now, is he? no. hanging around waiting is not going to make him think of you now, is it? wishing he were here isn't going to make him magically appear, is it?
he is not there. he is not here.
so relax.

i'm afraid of missing something.

trying to escape poison déjà vu

I have always loved the rain. Haven't I? The world is beautiful when it rains. I composed a love letter three days ago because of the rain. And now suddenly the chills are here and the skin is remembering things I thought long forgiven and forgotten.
I don't know. I want to think it isn't because of any of them. I have been strange lately, though, haven't I? Everybody remarked. Perhaps monsoon keys me up.
I'd rather not be keyed up. I can't seem to think of anything right now. My mind is wandering in the streets of last year in meetings real and imaginary; by lights of sun and moon and stars. She refuses to let go. Why, though? Why does she? I was fixed. I saw me fixed.

Random thought: Maybe there are chemical imbalances or something! So what should I be doing?
Maybe soup?
I will make soup!
Okay let's see what that does. I will be mopey no more. I would appreciate more free kisses, but I will not pine!

P.S. Just look at last May's posts. Just LOOK at them! Could you get ANY MORE PATHETIC.
It has to be the weather. It just does. I mean. Seasonal mood changes are not that strange, are they? All the self-doubt etcetera etcetera. Hmmmm. I wish I had a better record of earlier years. Also! I fear I am about to get very very needy. Well, whatever. Not like I haven't driven people away before.
Another thought! May was usually spent in hotter climes when young. True or false? Perhaps it has something to do with it? Also! March poems and moans and stupid phone calls. I fear I might be on to something here.

Oh, whatever. All these theories get me no closer to design.
adwise: Stop waiting, he isn't going to show up any time till tomorrow.
Also, stop fighting with the mother. DO YOU HEAR ME. You just leave her alone.

Saturday, May 26, 2007


once in a (stop) while I make myself cry (stop)
cycles (stop)
Most (stop) of those times is when I (stop) either go poking my (stop) nose where it (stop) doesn't belong
how we (stop) turn (stop)
The rest (stop) are when I don't do the things I should
to stay (stop) in a place

I wish he (stop) hadn't. I wish (stop) I hadn't. I (stop) wish he hadn't.
I wish I knew where I was supposed to be facing.
I wish (stop) I knew
I wish (stop) I never (stop) knew

Why did I go looking?

(stop) (stop) (stop) (stop) (stop) (stop) (stop) (stop) (stop) (stop) (stop) (stop)
Question: How can I let it out if I cannot say who?

first time

For God's sake! I went ten years without ever! What's different now? I'm very belligerent, and I want to bite people. And I don't want to feel better, I want to be screechy and scratchy and witchy and bitchy.
I can't even enjoy me a word or two.
stamp stamp smash.

Fuck off.
Come back next Tuesday. I will give you them kisses. :)

how much patience?

getting there.

i'm proud of me, very much.

Monday, May 21, 2007

not this time

please no?
I went through this. I've been over it. I said I was fine! Where is this coming from? Where is it coming from?? I don't want this clenching any more; I've been through it enough; I did NOTHING, I said NOTHING - why is this happening again? Get out of my head.

On the double negative side, this confirms that it's always been about me.
Perhaps a seasonal thing?

not applicable

He loves me. Oh me, oh my. Watch out!
I am the Wickedest Witch ever.
Oh, wicked.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

in so many words

you never tell. typical adult. cruel, cruel, insensitive. if i were to say it, what would you do? i know the answer to that, and it shouldn't matter to me, right. only it does. the time has come to take the bull by the horns and mix some metaphors and push some boundaries.

Monday, May 14, 2007

post my letter

Yes. Post my letter. It needs to be weighed and the stamps need to be bought. I finished writing it three days ago and if you don't post it then it'll never get sent and it'll miss the birthday and everything will be horrible and YOU WILL POST THE LETTER, damn you.
I hate stupid selfish sisters and ignorant preoccupied mothers and my FUCKING CAST. I hate them all.

post my letter. post it. the post office is open only from 10.30 to 4.30 and if you don't go it won't get posted and how the hell can I beg you and scream at you in one sentence I don't know but I will and fuck you please bloody please post that letter fuck.

This rant is so bloody annoying. Post my letter post it.

southern hemisphere

Sometimes when I'm silent it means I am actually considering all the things that whatever you just said could lead to. Like houses in the suburbs and apartments shared in foreign countries and who leaves the cap off the toothpaste.
Time has always been very adaptable in my hands. Along with truth.
It's rather tragic.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

please promise...

...that no one will be hurt at the end of this but me.

Wednesday, May 9, 2007


:) :) :)
I love genetics.

No apologies! Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah; and all things in triples.
:D yay.

Sunday, May 6, 2007

so much for good intentions

...and for things being better in the morning.
I dreamed of snakes and mongooses, but the mongoose ran away. There was a coconut tree in there, somewhere, and an anthology with my name in print. Even if you want to tell, you shouldn't; because sometimes people don't want to hear. Even if there was no comma after.
This I knew, but still I laid for myself the traps. What kind of creature prefers letting herself fall to avoiding pitfalls altogether? One who has vain hopes, maybe.

Sustainability in southern parts. A little excitement.
Thank God for Marcie.

Thursday, May 3, 2007

two hundred

I am a good girl. So why is it so hard?
I am going to stop asking questions. And calling. And thinking. And waiting.
Can I go a week?

People's mothers have begun smiling when they hear my name. That's not one of the best signs - I've always been the person mothers like. So now what about me?
What about me?

Associations are all a lot less painful. That's a good thing? I don't care. And if he does not, then I will not. And that's that, so there.
I like that there and that and where and what all sound so delicious together.

TWO HUNDRED POSTS just here. I am seriously disturbed, um.
not fair, oh not fair. i'm here. and this is too much like old times. a good slap or two will fix that, yes? :)

Tuesday, May 1, 2007

wish i

The thing is, I can't write just for myself. That's not the point. The point is to write for recognition.
Or money.
I wouldn't mind writing for money, except that I doubt anything I write will sell.
It's all this doubt, see? and there's the thought that everyone's a writer, and everyone's a poet, and where will you be in a sea that vast, and who will read you anyway? there are no issues you can write about because you have seen nothing and you know nothing. You have no traumas, no miseries, no grand fantasies to bring to your at, so what precisely is the worth of you?

I wish I could write letters.
Real ones, full of stories and gossip; newsy breezy epistles from me to people far away whom I miss and love and want to hold on to. Instant communication, and where has the mystery gone? I don't receive replies to my little sentences (sentences?) anyhow; people just hang around hoping I'll show up. Is it really that simple to write off?
Perhaps not.
Funnily enough, the people who probably would reply to letters I don't particularly feel like writing to. Person, I mean.