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Archive for June, 2007

 
|| June 20, 2007 || 8:23 am || Comments (0) ||

go figure

“GAH! How can you stand listening to this?”

“Are you kidding me? If I’d've discovered electronica early enough, I woulda had no need for drugs.”

“No way.”

Yes way. Now shut up and get tangled up in the music.”

 
|| June 19, 2007 || 11:33 am || Comments (0) ||

drink it up

BLESS JESUS, IT IS RAIIIIINING! Big, fat, steady-pounding drops.

To celebrate, I just went outside, raised my face to the sky and danced around a bit. Now my scrubs are wet and I’m cold and my glasses –which I saw fit to wear today– are kind of smudgy and foggy. It’s all good, though, because I keep a spare hoody here at the office and there is hot Italian food on the way.

Things have been so dry for so long. I’m one of those people who believe that the spiritual closely follows the natural, so I look forward to seeing what happens now.

 
|| June 18, 2007 || 2:16 pm || Comments (8) ||

A surprising bit of judgmentalism:

There is this guy I know who basically only plays video games and sweats. Seriously, that’s pretty much the sum total of what his days consist of.

He fucking disgusts me.

 
|| June 17, 2007 || 3:22 am || Comments (2) ||

The bees serenade

We place our wishes carefully on window sills,

We bribe our emotions for truce.

I should forget myself in some form of wicked shame

But I’m more concerned with the willing of time.

There is a beginning and ending in every breath:

Over and over we meet and cease to know one another.

All this in the space of inhale-exhale….

And do not, not for one second, discount a sob.

Meted out in these breaths, I have known you for

Hundreds of years only just this week;

I have made your acquaintance as many times.

Had I not ever been brought to you,

I would never have found that the bees serenade in screams

And the dead work to curry favor on my behalf,

Oceans beg to wrap themselves in trees

And growing men shoulder complex burdens.

The fabric of place and moment and being:

There is nowhere that I’d not go

If just to stand and look askance at you

For a hair’s-breadth of time

(I think I could even resign myself to

Sight Unseen, Purpose Unrevealed, Heart Waylaid).

My dreams started out gifts.

Now, though….now they cease to be enough.

 
|| June 15, 2007 || 9:17 pm || Comments (2) ||

pleezdameetcha

Hi, I’m damn drunk.

Richard thinks a wiley squirrel is responsible for the stabbing aspect of the whole scenario.

I believe, if you check the archives oh My Dear Muffinasses, I’ve always warned against the trusting of squirrels.

THOSE FUCKERS.

(pee ess…my family has inched up the east coast. now five of them are stuck in the godforsaken no-man’s-land that is LaGuardia. my sweet fuck do I hate that airport. I hope they purchase me a tacky magnet while they are there. I know that Cuomo is no longer mayor, but something with his head on it would be entirely tasty.)

FACE IT: I make more sense hammered than most people do fresh out of the gate, sober and with a solid nine hours of sleep. This is why we all keep coming back here. And yes, it is quickly turning into a Fully Obnoxious Drunk. I only say this to warn you if you are trying to engage me in Teh Interenetseds Chattings.

….and by the way, Filter and The Crystal Method invite you to ‘Trip Like I Do’.

Hey, does anyone remember when we were all tickled –rather than saddened– by my drunk posts?? I’m blowing the requisite Voyeurnal Queen* kisses at each and every last one of you. Peace and pop-tarts, y’all. There may be overwrought portry soon, one can never tell.

*tee-shirt, all you folk

 
|| June 15, 2007 || 8:16 am || Comments (0) ||

self-awareness

This morning I noticed myself only dumping a third of the Miss Vickie’s JalapeƱo potato chips onto the wax wrapper of my Subway sandwich. Usually I portion out roughly half the single-serving bag and fold the top carefully, securing it with a paper clip, saving the rest for another day. Today, no. A third or so; the other two-thirds stayed in the bag for other times.

This is how I do with things I only marginally like that are bad for me. With the unfortunate things I LOVE, I quit cold turkey and altogether. Sometimes it takes me a minute to work up to that precipice, but once I’m there I will leap grimly, forcefully and with utter conviction and abandon. This has –on more than one occasion– quite startled surrounding onlookers.

I’m not much of a crier and sure as fuck am not a complainer, choosing instead to set my jaw and Do Constructive Things. I sit here before you now, though, unashamed to tell you how utterly exhausted and emotionally spent I am. I want to go home, get my favorite blanky (of COURSE I have a favorite blanky, DON’T YOU??), the preciously striped one that feels like a hug, wrap up in it and go sit under a tree in the back yard and maybe have myself a good stress-releasing sob for a minute. Days like this are good for hearing the sound of someone reading me a story or singing me a song with my head in their lap. There are only a handful of people I would allow to comfort me, ever, in such a fashion. I need them like hell now and they are all –each and every one– miles and miles and miles away.

My boss-slash-way-tight-homey is not doing so great; I feel powerless to help him and this frustrates me. This, coupled with the selfishly assholey way some people have behaved with regard to his absence from the office has me wanting to say, “Come on upstairs, I will work on you. With a sledgehammer.” Some of these are people that he has poured and poured all his heart and skill and compassion into. My Doc doesn’t just proffer up lip service, he Walks The Fucking Walk and he does it with a great deal of humility. And even now, as wrecked up as he is, his primary concern is his patients. He made a small attempt to come and work a couple hours two separate days and made himself worse, bless his silly and stubborn heart. Normally I would have the mindset of, “It takes time to heal,” but there is something in this situation that is nagging at my insides and refuses to go away. All the worse is the fact that I can’t pinpoint the exact thing that unsettles me, like waiting for a shoe to drop and then observing the brand and styling of it.

Yesterday I drove a little ways to deliver a mess of My People (and surely you all know by now that My People are comprised of those I was born to/were born to me and those I herd up and gather to me for whatever reason like I was Their Appointed Whatever) to a seventies-style retro airport with the friendliest TSA agents EV. AR. (pictures of these fine and rare fellows to follow) so that they could head out to Scotland on a mission trip. My Scouty and My Maxim were among them. I’d no sooner punched out the lengthy drive back and had literally two tires in the drive when Maxim called to explain that the first plane had been struck by lightning (WE HAVE NOT HAD A SPECK OF RAIN IN WEEKS AND IT’S SO HOT AND JEEZOHPETER EVERYLASTTHING IS DYING, CAN YOU DIG IT??) and whoopsies, there were complications and whoopsies, maybe twelve bodies and thirty pieces of baggage were stuck on the east coast for a couple of days.

There were lots of phone calls last night, and given my overall impatience with explaining things to people and answering the same damn questions over and over, by the time I got in the bed last night I –in my characteristically self-destructive fashion– wanted to rub my nose with a baggie of the Peruvian Marching Powder or drive ninety-five down some back roads with no headlights on or walk into the middle of a redneck dive stuffed with drunk hilbillies while I wore a shirt that said “BLACK PRIDE.”

This all, magically and quite wondrously, gelled overnight and morphed into the state of being that I’m riding on now. There are lots of little peripherals besides these two big items that would be fine all on their own, or even grouped neatly together, but all of it at once has me a little fucking tweaked and ready to kill or be killed.

Doesn’t really matter which at this point.

 
|| June 13, 2007 || 10:00 pm || Comments (1) ||

GET YOU SOME (religion)

There is this rather large church on on of the main drags in Huntsville that the kids and I have always referred to as “The Big Scary Jesus Church”.

oh dear jesus ii
:: big scary jesus wants to eat your kidneys ::

Click for full size and you can kinda see why.