trepidation
Buffy season 5 finale made me cry earlier, big NINJA tears. How significant family ties are and it hit the home chord. Wallow it with the whammy bar.
Ate too much candy today. I need to lay off. Poor poor teeth.
I get these waves of lonely from time to time when I hear the right music, when I read the right piece of writing. I've been without a sense of longing for too long. This is dangerous because the first tinge of affection from someone could lead to disaster.
It's like quitting smoking and after a year or so goes by, someone asks you one vulnerable evening if you'd care for one and you know you risk smothering yourself in them all over again.
And you take it.
Oh piano, oh violin.
Tom and Tracy. Let's sleep like this.
-----Haunted House Saturday. There was a filthy bathroom in one of the cubicle rooms, the sink was tarnished, the tub filling up with blood, and the toilet had a mouthful of scum. The intricacies of it all were amazing. We found some humans, still soul and brain harboring, who led us hurriedly though passages and toward more lurking dangers and wide-eyed, malicious gazes. Demons who jumped out from behind walls, I spotted a few before entering rooms, leaned in the crevice of their hiding hole.
One woman, driven mad, led us into her closet and through the door where a few small items of clothing hung on the bar that passed over our heads, were more tunnels leading to more filthy, scary, crazed and costumed actors and actresses. The closet ended a few rooms later, another pole with hanging clothes, and I felt like I was stepping from one dream into another.
Behind me the others huddled and skittered, and I entered every wary portal first, screaming whenever a surprise unhinged. I'm not one for screaming, only gasping, but this seemed necessary, elating, and charging. Each bellow, I could feel my smile get wider, my eyes mocking, sniffing out the next dank corners of the lair.
We were chased out with a chainsaw
and walked casually back the car.
Laura was back to her usual, biting, self. I don't know how many ways I can say, "I get it" to her for her to understand that I fucking get it. She seems to think she is the only one to experience the things she experiences and has a habit of thinking everyone is less informed.
She gets so goddamn defensive when anyone challenges what comes out of her mouth.
It can be embarrassing.
People pick up pretty easy on scowling.
She really should see a shrink so they can convince her that not everyone is out to get her.
I don't mean to sound like an asshole, but I did preface her coming over by saying she should come to have a good time and to see me. Not to get away from Keri--which I'm still not convinced wasn't the case.
No one likes to feel like they're being used for something.
...rant complete.
So many hearts hurting all over.
My family so full of them.
Their cries trespass states, time zones, whole fabrics.
Ate too much candy today. I need to lay off. Poor poor teeth.
I get these waves of lonely from time to time when I hear the right music, when I read the right piece of writing. I've been without a sense of longing for too long. This is dangerous because the first tinge of affection from someone could lead to disaster.
It's like quitting smoking and after a year or so goes by, someone asks you one vulnerable evening if you'd care for one and you know you risk smothering yourself in them all over again.
And you take it.
Oh piano, oh violin.
Tom and Tracy. Let's sleep like this.
-----Haunted House Saturday. There was a filthy bathroom in one of the cubicle rooms, the sink was tarnished, the tub filling up with blood, and the toilet had a mouthful of scum. The intricacies of it all were amazing. We found some humans, still soul and brain harboring, who led us hurriedly though passages and toward more lurking dangers and wide-eyed, malicious gazes. Demons who jumped out from behind walls, I spotted a few before entering rooms, leaned in the crevice of their hiding hole.
One woman, driven mad, led us into her closet and through the door where a few small items of clothing hung on the bar that passed over our heads, were more tunnels leading to more filthy, scary, crazed and costumed actors and actresses. The closet ended a few rooms later, another pole with hanging clothes, and I felt like I was stepping from one dream into another.
Behind me the others huddled and skittered, and I entered every wary portal first, screaming whenever a surprise unhinged. I'm not one for screaming, only gasping, but this seemed necessary, elating, and charging. Each bellow, I could feel my smile get wider, my eyes mocking, sniffing out the next dank corners of the lair.
We were chased out with a chainsaw
and walked casually back the car.
Laura was back to her usual, biting, self. I don't know how many ways I can say, "I get it" to her for her to understand that I fucking get it. She seems to think she is the only one to experience the things she experiences and has a habit of thinking everyone is less informed.
She gets so goddamn defensive when anyone challenges what comes out of her mouth.
It can be embarrassing.
People pick up pretty easy on scowling.
She really should see a shrink so they can convince her that not everyone is out to get her.
I don't mean to sound like an asshole, but I did preface her coming over by saying she should come to have a good time and to see me. Not to get away from Keri--which I'm still not convinced wasn't the case.
No one likes to feel like they're being used for something.
...rant complete.
So many hearts hurting all over.
My family so full of them.
Their cries trespass states, time zones, whole fabrics.