Saturday, December 31, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
if i was a turtle, i wouldn't need to find a home because i would be constantly growing one
are people something i should be afraid of? i use to think so. i still do. they are just like wild animals, you never know what the fuck their gonna do next. i have these dreams that i'm wrestling this huge wild jungle cat in a manner that only another huge wild jungle cat would... as if i were this huge wild jungle cat, but we all know that i'm not (cats don't have thumbs (or any real fingers to speak of) to type with) so what happens in the end, as you could image, i get the bajesus slapped out of me, both by the cat, and by the floor when i hit it. i feel that's what my interactions with the general public will inevitably turn into... a very awkward one sided role playing game that turns physical and i eventually feel like a victim or a straight up poser.
however, i am pleased to say that has not been the current case. i have had the most pleasnt day haning out with stangers in their most private spaces. we touch hands, bump into walls, talk about heat. and i feel fine about all of this. sometimes i think its easier for me than it is for them. sometimes. i get that feeling the strongest when they start to talk about their feelings. one man told me about his current employment, his boss, his new opportunity, a promotion, presumably, and then he gave a few reasons as to why he was going to just give it all up and live on unemployment because he could afford to do so. i told him i didn't want to live in an apartment. which is true, i don't want to live in an apartment. but i did feel a bit weird having this conversation about his future life plans of going nowhere. and by conversation, i mean, him talking and me listening.
people aren't as bad as i thought though. they really can be very pleasant, entertaining, and insightful, amongst many other qualities and traits. yet even with this new insight into humanities colorful caverns, i still don't have a solid stone to call my home. i'm still not worried. but maybe i should be? fuck. i am running out of time, there is no question about the passing of sociological time. but i know this will work out. i have that knowledge.
however, i am pleased to say that has not been the current case. i have had the most pleasnt day haning out with stangers in their most private spaces. we touch hands, bump into walls, talk about heat. and i feel fine about all of this. sometimes i think its easier for me than it is for them. sometimes. i get that feeling the strongest when they start to talk about their feelings. one man told me about his current employment, his boss, his new opportunity, a promotion, presumably, and then he gave a few reasons as to why he was going to just give it all up and live on unemployment because he could afford to do so. i told him i didn't want to live in an apartment. which is true, i don't want to live in an apartment. but i did feel a bit weird having this conversation about his future life plans of going nowhere. and by conversation, i mean, him talking and me listening.
people aren't as bad as i thought though. they really can be very pleasant, entertaining, and insightful, amongst many other qualities and traits. yet even with this new insight into humanities colorful caverns, i still don't have a solid stone to call my home. i'm still not worried. but maybe i should be? fuck. i am running out of time, there is no question about the passing of sociological time. but i know this will work out. i have that knowledge.
if your a bird, i'm a bird too.
i started this shit in august 2010 and in 5 months i wrote/posted more than i did this whole year. i wrote every month except for november. just a thought that i was thinking... that's all.
though, maybe that's not all. why did i even start doing this? why would i want people to read about the things i think of them? or of myself? or of anything for that matter? well it doesn't matter anymore anyways because i know for a fact that i'm the only person who looks at this, and that's actually for the better. see, i'm afraid that i will lose my memory because i already can't remember most things, even if they just happened a few minutes ago. like when people talk to me. i will typically have some minor difficulties in responding to what they said, because i can't remember what they just said, and it will have only been a few seconds earlier that they said it. or, maybe, just maybe... that could be due to low attention span on my behalf. whatever, the point is i'm afraid i will forget everything that has ever happened to me. i'm scared of forgetting everything and then what? my husband, ryan gosling, will have to tell me his name is noha everyday when he comes to my room at the old folks home to read me the story of our love life together. and even though i typically never relate the story with my own life because of my mushy brain is dieing, he still is persistent, until one day, i remember. i mean, sure, i see my kids and grand kids from time to time and i never know who in the world they are, and 'noha' reads me the story over and over, everyday, for only he knows how long, and i never know whats going on... but that one day! that one day over a candle lit dinner, i remember! and we dance! we dance like that dumb ginger in the sun drop commercial. and then i forget and i start yelling and the nurses come and... and.... and... and did i ever tell you that i love the movie the notebook?! see... if i wasn't staying up late, documenting my every tangent, i might have forgotten how much i love ryan gosling and every shitty movie he has ever "acted" in, because for me, that shit is 100% true life real shit. and he loves me too.
though, maybe that's not all. why did i even start doing this? why would i want people to read about the things i think of them? or of myself? or of anything for that matter? well it doesn't matter anymore anyways because i know for a fact that i'm the only person who looks at this, and that's actually for the better. see, i'm afraid that i will lose my memory because i already can't remember most things, even if they just happened a few minutes ago. like when people talk to me. i will typically have some minor difficulties in responding to what they said, because i can't remember what they just said, and it will have only been a few seconds earlier that they said it. or, maybe, just maybe... that could be due to low attention span on my behalf. whatever, the point is i'm afraid i will forget everything that has ever happened to me. i'm scared of forgetting everything and then what? my husband, ryan gosling, will have to tell me his name is noha everyday when he comes to my room at the old folks home to read me the story of our love life together. and even though i typically never relate the story with my own life because of my mushy brain is dieing, he still is persistent, until one day, i remember. i mean, sure, i see my kids and grand kids from time to time and i never know who in the world they are, and 'noha' reads me the story over and over, everyday, for only he knows how long, and i never know whats going on... but that one day! that one day over a candle lit dinner, i remember! and we dance! we dance like that dumb ginger in the sun drop commercial. and then i forget and i start yelling and the nurses come and... and.... and... and did i ever tell you that i love the movie the notebook?! see... if i wasn't staying up late, documenting my every tangent, i might have forgotten how much i love ryan gosling and every shitty movie he has ever "acted" in, because for me, that shit is 100% true life real shit. and he loves me too.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
i forgot about blog
i had a realization that i have not been my sullen self lately. i mean, sure i sliced my wrist a few weeks ago, but that was for art. sure, i was binge drinking, but that was for celebration. sure, i have been lying my face off to both strangers and my family, but that's because the truth is just too hard for them to understand. for example, if i told the people who's house I'm trying to move into that i don't have a job, they might think that I'm lazy and that i can't pay rent. if i told them that i didn't have any money, they might not want me to move in. so i said i have a job and i have lots of money.
ANYWAYS... i have been unreasonably comfortable in my own head, for once. its because (not really, its not really because of this book) i'm reading a book about brains and how fucked up they are and how fucked up they make the people who own them. in my book, its talking about ADD. speaking of ADD, this bitch sitting next to me needs to wipe that ridiculous smile off of her flat Persian cat face. she has been smiling this whole time, for what, i ask?! i think her face is stuck like that. So my book. my mom got it for me at costco. i thought that i would never read it because i typically don't read the books my mother gets me because they are all self help books and i feel really fucking stupid when i pull out a book on the MAX that has a title like, "You are the reason... why living is worth it"
okay, my mother has never given me a book like that (which is a lie), and if i ever saw someone reading that book (if it exists), i would advise that person to just end it. the book that is... i would advise them to finish it because this book that i'm reading right now, its amazing. i mean, its by no means a self help book, its more of a scientific look into why people and society are like milk and orange juice (did you understand that, that was a metaphor for things that don't mix well).
basically i'm pretty pleased with things. even though everything is so uncertain. its like that saying... the only thing that is certain is that everything is not. maybe that is not how that saying goes, but i think the one i just made up works fine.
ANYWAYS... i have been unreasonably comfortable in my own head, for once. its because (not really, its not really because of this book) i'm reading a book about brains and how fucked up they are and how fucked up they make the people who own them. in my book, its talking about ADD. speaking of ADD, this bitch sitting next to me needs to wipe that ridiculous smile off of her flat Persian cat face. she has been smiling this whole time, for what, i ask?! i think her face is stuck like that. So my book. my mom got it for me at costco. i thought that i would never read it because i typically don't read the books my mother gets me because they are all self help books and i feel really fucking stupid when i pull out a book on the MAX that has a title like, "You are the reason... why living is worth it"
okay, my mother has never given me a book like that (which is a lie), and if i ever saw someone reading that book (if it exists), i would advise that person to just end it. the book that is... i would advise them to finish it because this book that i'm reading right now, its amazing. i mean, its by no means a self help book, its more of a scientific look into why people and society are like milk and orange juice (did you understand that, that was a metaphor for things that don't mix well).
basically i'm pretty pleased with things. even though everything is so uncertain. its like that saying... the only thing that is certain is that everything is not. maybe that is not how that saying goes, but i think the one i just made up works fine.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Sunday, October 2, 2011
sacchariferous
in regard to the photos… (which would be everything about this, being that the only text is in regard to the photos) …they are old and they are the kind of shit-photos-that-your-best-girlfriend-uses-in-her-scrapbook because she isn’t afraid about the acidic glue eating through the photo, because it doesn’t matter, because everyone who is in the photo hates it and so no one who is in it wants to look at it. with that out of the way, i can assure you that there is nothing but syrupy sweet sickness in store. the sort of good shit you want to eat with a spoon because this kind of delectable treat often slips through the tine of a fork.
Friday, September 23, 2011
instaounce is not instagram
do i feel like a shit head. yes. do i know why. no. does it really matter. probably. i'm no doctor. fuck it. i should be. instead i fucking scream like a child who has only one part of it's brain, as opposed to, say, 10 parts, or like, one-hundred-fucking-million parts.... 100,fucking,000,000 juicy little shithead selves. my computer can't keep up with my typing, so i have no idea what the fuck i am saying. it (the "computer") will let me know in about, umm, 20 minutes. until the...
shut the fuck up... and listen to this..... peter bjorn and john - lay it down
do you know how frustrating it can be when life does not hand you instant gratification?
shut the fuck up... and listen to this..... peter bjorn and john - lay it down
do you know how frustrating it can be when life does not hand you instant gratification?
Thursday, September 15, 2011
WHAT!!!!! i don't have a fucking cyst... or maybe i do.
my boyfriend, wika, gave me this definition....
"A cyst is a closed sac, having a distinct membrane and division on the nearby tissue. It may contain air, fluids, or semi-solid material. A collection of pus is called an abscess, not a cyst. Once formed, a cyst could go away on its own or may have to be removed through surgery."
i have a lot of cysts, but i prefer to call them by their names, or just call them by a group name, such as. my friends.
"A cyst is a closed sac, having a distinct membrane and division on the nearby tissue. It may contain air, fluids, or semi-solid material. A collection of pus is called an abscess, not a cyst. Once formed, a cyst could go away on its own or may have to be removed through surgery."
i have a lot of cysts, but i prefer to call them by their names, or just call them by a group name, such as. my friends.
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