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the fine line
That sonofabitch line. I can't help it. I step as close as I can, I say as much as I can say without regret *though regret always follows* and I often just say fuck that line. Fuck it. Fuck the man. Burn the bras. Let them think I'm crazy. Let them think I'm intense, Too personal ( Read more... ) -
sighing from the bellows
It's peculiar how I consider nostalgia a sign of weakness. I get really pissed at myself for allowing that moment or two of heartsink. I don't suppose I can help; no more than anyone can help an instantanious emotion rumbling from a place inside you thought long put to rest ( Read more... ) -
A moment to breathe
Lost in a whirlwind of Christmas crafts and stress filled to-do lists and scheduled obligations.... diving to the deep end of cut-throat competition at work... foolishly forgetting to enjoy the moment and the company whilst accommodating my own anxiety ( Read more... ) -
I'm glad no one reads this long-windedness
At least twice a month, without fail, I find myself lying in bed, peeking through one eye to spy the time. And I sigh, do some weird mental arithmetic and a semi-rational weighing of consequences: Three possible outcomes-- falling asleep now and getting three hours and twenty two minutes of rest before work in the am, lying in bed for the same ( Read more... ) -
to tack to my list of incompetencies
The better part of an hour spent trying to iron out the wrinkles in my husband's dress shirt.
You want a sixty page paper on French Existentialism post WWII-- I'll have it for you in less then a day.
A painted landscape? Give me an hour and some decent acrylics.
A thirty second synopsis of a novel ranging thirty years? All yours.
However, if you'd ( Read more... ) -
No longer can I be called a sissy.
So I was drunkenly staggering back to my apartment about a half hour ago, and I looked up and, amazingly, could see the stars through the shitty city smog.
And Orion's Belt's was spread perfectly across the sky, which automatically trigger's the lyrics, "there's a changing constellation/of balls as we are playing/ i see Orion and say nothing/ the ( Read more... ) -
"If I had the use of my body I would throw it out the window."
I'm really sick of fucking shit up.
Had more to say, but am thinking of just not saying as a general rule now.
So instead:
"I have measured out my life with coffee spoons." T.S. Elliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. If you haven't read this poem, you need to. It's in my top five.
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Say Goodnight
So my three am bird was mysteriously absent this morning.
In fact the first chirp wasn't until quarter after five.
Also, my six o'clock bells from St. Mac's were silent.
These are the things that freak me out.
Forecast looks wacky, friends.
Also, I've been too busy writing other people's papers and doing research studies and trying to find a job: I have ( Read more... ) -
really? someone smack that bitch
watching the debates on tivo, i think McCain made me throw up in my mouth a little.