Thursday, March 31, 2011

meet and greet.

hi i am so fucking stupid. i have been known to drink mike’s hard lemonade. this makes me a sellout and reaffirms my citizenship.i am a slob. though somehow i forever find myself picking up after my son who hates me and himself you’d think he was a teenager with his loathing and self pity and emo face all the time but he’s nine/my son inherited my most prominent characteristics. also i am jealous of successful suicide attempts i want that kind of freedom. 
i have been told i am incapable of happiness. internally i am very aware that i am a hot mess, emotional and constantly attempting to link to another human being in a genuine mutual coherence however i come off a total bitch like i hate you and everything you stand for which is nothing. happiness comes from within.
i am cold. ever held a conversation with a wall?
i am so blinded by my rage towards christianity that i cannot accept a saved soul.
if you mention something about loose ties to any such theology holding dear to your heart i will instantly demote you to retard status in my mind. in my defense my hatred was hard earned having spent my childhood entrenched in a southern baptist wolf pack. i was atheist from birth and these gods were thrust upon me. i didn’t speak their language and could barely withstand the force of such dogma but i was a child who wanted so much to be loved and understood that i gave god my all and cried out for him often in between bouts of cursing his silence. 

writing is how i communicate the white noise i carry. white noise maintains the indecipherable.
i would have lost my virginity at fifteen but i was deathly afraid god would make me the next mary and impregnate me with the second coming if i so much as looked at my own vagina.
i am incredibly self centered. pay attention i'm not worth it. you’ll notice this entire jabber is all about me no one is listening no one is reading no one me me me.

i watch the jersey shore religiously. most of what you say to me goes over my head.
the lights are on but no one is home.i got married once because my parents told me to.
at sixteen i was diagnosed as ‘oppositional defiant’. when i am introduced to new faces they more often than not think i hate them i don’t come off well cause i’m really trying to make a good impression and be liked well that’s my intention. i generally dislike most people i meet. statistically speaking that means you. and the people i do like i love and love harsh like love did me i will love you to death (this would be goth) and i will try to hold you too close you interpret my holding as pushing away somehow i have never understood how i work like that all alone and in the end well in the end you end up leaving for somewhere (someone) warmer.

Monday, March 14, 2011


I tell you to e-mail me
because I know we are
the last of the last
generation for whom
e-mail was once new
and that you have trouble
turning your machine on

Friday, March 11, 2011


on a train bound for solace, our ultimate incline, i stumble cross harlot's dinner car. scuffled my knees a bit but pride took punches like cabbage patch kids adopted by catholic priests. plastic dimples and christ limbs to chew.
back to the shuttle bus, double-decker. my seat was awkward between two layers. the have-knots and the knot-haves. spiral. i kept my head balanced with site sees like mind drones, willing to cut switch run. and then there was all the dazzle, the side tracking glimmer of the life that appealed to my whimsy. the window ultimately sucks like cups all memory of this ride. watching all you fuckers pass by. cornfields and exit ramps one by one.
and as quick as the choo-choo blue, i was back on still canvas from said film strip. this is what i can't recall of the before and in between. i mean the boxcar and the spot where the presumable x lies in wait. see, solace hides deserving souls searching wildly for reception. results in man e. faces. only three but two too man e.
back to the bus stop, i caught my name on poster board above all the grabbing heads. to my total "fuck, i saw this coming" he brought a black permanent marker down from his face and scribbled me out (and bubble letters are so cute). hindsight exhales relief for potential in dumbingdown, default remedy.
The depot is filled to the brim; they mass all around me now. smug cause even though they've all got off at the wrong stop - all their welcome wagons got the memo. so until when i'm just mingling, not really concerned with names and trying not to make eye contact with the conductor. he's insisting this trip is round.

(this is the first -december 2008- blog post i ever did write and surely no one has ever read.)