so

because i'm doing the total single thing again i guess i should start dating. ( i'm HOPING i will be able to settle into the molly and books and friends and me groove that i am so very very content and happy with...and i could go on and on and write the normal crazy mad posts i usually do outlining all his (I had to delete that descriptive sentence) but i've decided not to. i've made a conscious decision that i can't change the past, i can stop and mold the future, and i can live in the now...so i am open to set up's of any kind as long as the individual i am being set up with has a job, a car (unless he lives in toronto), and a mind...and not bad on the eyes...and under 37...and friggon easy going...and affectionate...and likes puppies (gotta be good with the kids) those are the new rules.)

ANYWAY

because i'm doing the total single thing again, natalie, the sweet one from upstairs and also an amazing stylist, nail...hot rocks...like EVERYTHING...is going to purple & red dye it, and give it a nice cut.

this excites me.

and long walks with molly, little beer....

my books
my friends
my apartment
my family
my puppy

and i should be good.

again.

From Snowcake...My new favourite obsession. If you haven't seen it, go NOW. It's SO SO good. And I'm in love with Alan Rickman. So. Yeah. It's so GOOD.


Maggie: [to Alex] I really like you, and I hate having sex on a full stomach, so can we just skip the main course and move next door?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Linda Freeman: Have you ever had an orgasm, Alex?
Alex Hughes: It has been known.
Linda Freeman: It sounds like an inferior version of what I feel when I have a mouthful of snow.
[Shoves some into her mouth]

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Linda Freeman: Do people like you Alex?
Alex Hughes: Not much, no.
Linda Freeman: I'm not surprised. It's because those glasses don't look right on your face, you have a long face and those glasses make you look shifty.
Alex Hughes: Really?
Linda Freeman: Yes. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Linda Freeman: Neurotypic people are obsessed with having friends. I'm only trying to help you get some.

i go to work.
i go home.
i walk the puppy.
we watch movies that have won independent awards.
i give her belly rubs.
i drink beer eat green beans and make veal parmesan.
all my friends are getting married.
i'm invited to a bridal/baby shower once a week.
i'm with a man i love but don't see
i'm with a man that i havent talked to in months
i'm with a man and we fuck once in awhile
i'm with a man who monitors me...and my general disposition and then makes me feel like shit for anything remotely beautiful that i give to someone else in my words...
i can't have friends
i can't kiss who i want to
i can't be happy
we used to
we used to
we used to
lay around on lunch breaks eating kraft dinner and fuckin
we used to
chat all night online, write little sms's to say hi
we used to
talk until dawn, interupted only with fuck sessions or midnight breath kisses
we used to
walk holding hands
we used to
be happy

and now
we're just here.
two beings floating around a time that we've created

i hate it
i feel emptier than i've ever felt
and all i want to do is fuck and lay around and talk about something...
all i want is to find someone
not even someone that i wanna spend the rest of my life with
just someone to spend now with

i'm hanging out with tricia's ex-boyfriend
who knows about beauty and love and having both and then not having both
and he explains physics to me, and i explain literature, and we mesh them together using beer as glue, finishing the night with a huge ball of everything logical and literary
i love the movie snowcake
i bought it and have been watching it for days
i have sexual dreams about alan rickman
i got to do a powerpoint presentation and it was good because i could create something tangible and pretty
i miss beauty
i miss art galleries
i miss finding passion and love IN someone
and i don't
i don't
know what to do
so i drink a lot of tea
i go to work
i got home
i walk the puppy
i watch movies
and i wish you were here.

i miss you too.
i don't know what to do.

talk to me
write to me
tell me things so i can find beauty and passion in something
my best friend in high school drove a hearse. we used to lay in the back and look at the stars. it's a weird forced juxtaposition that is inexplicable. her name was pam. i loved her to death. she's married now. and happy. and pretty. my boyfriend in high school drove a fiero that he built. it was too small to lay in but we used to fuck. somehow. i don't know how.

i miss things
and i don't even know if i know
what they are.

truly

My nights...

What did I do before the puppy? Seriously?

Put on gloves, a tied scarf and wrap up warm
On this winter night
Everytime you get defensive
You're just looking for a fight
It's safe to sing somebody out there's got a problem
With almost anything you'll do
Well, next time they stab you don't fight back just play the victim
Instead of playin' the fool
And the roads are covered with a million
Little molecules
Of cigarette ashes and the school floors are covered
With pieces of pencil eraser too
Well sooner or later the ground's gonna be holdin' all
Of my ashes too
But I can't help but wonder if after I'm gone will I still have these three hundred mile per
hour, finger breaking, no answers makin', battered dirty hands, bee stung and busted up, empty
cup torrential outpour blues

One thing's for sure: in that graveyard
I'm gonna have the shiniest pair of shoes

The White Stripes...

With thanks to the landscaper for making my month...god they were GREAT!!!!

it's my birthday.

i smelled burnt toast and thought i was dead.

t-bone's dying.

gob said it, and now i say it, but i have such a hard hard time writing those words. maybe it's a maturity thing, maybe its n inability to realize other people’s mortality because it will make me realize my own. or maybe it's just too freakin' blah to give words to.

every time someone relatively near me has cancer, i revert back into my grandma dying mode.

we knew she was dying. we all knew. i knew. the entire summer. spent and entire summer with her knowing. but i don't know, cannot remember ever consciously thinking it, never mind consciously uttering it. to utter something, to say something like that "someone is dying" is a fairly unconscious turn. i mean you don't think about it, you just say it. it just comes out. but it can't come out. the moment it comes out it's conscious and you know and you're hiding downstairs in the basement with your cup of early grey crying through the best poetry you've ever written...

i spent all summer watching her die. we spent 2 nights watching her fade, the three great aunts holding vigil by her bedside day and night and night and day, talking and laughing and words filled with sequined shoes, big band music, and boys.

i used to go into her room, when she was too sick to get out of bed, feed her beets, and she'd ask me to put on the big band station and tell me every story of every place she was and with whom, and and and

to this day...big band music makes me sappy.

i don't know what the point of this post is. i don't know if it has one. i do know...love is watching someone die.

Mors ultima linea rerum est

i like the rain...
i thought. sitting on the front steps, watching molly b. chase the rain drops, bite the rain drops, roll around in rain dropped flower beds. and then just as quickly thought about thinking that. it makes my mind like those paintings when you place a drop of ink down on the spinning plastic thing that flicks it around onto the paper. as oppossed to the de stijl my mind usually is...when i think about thinking, not the rain i mean.

i remember when annie was little, maybe 6, maybe a bit younger, i would babysit her, or rather just hang out with her all the time because she was the only person i could really handle and like being around. and through these summer showers we would sit inside, eat bananas, watch mary poppins...and then....and when i think back, i know why my mother insists i'm 'kinda weird." i remember cutting holes out of garbage bags, putting them on, trimming hers a bit, and walking outside into the puddles in our barefeet. up and down the street splashing and playing our barefeet in the rain. i remember vividly not thinking about it, just doing it, just running around with my fairly new little sister our feet and ankles wet, little blades of grass stuck on little chubby kid toes, the soles of our feet black, then clean, then black then clean, the smell of the rain, the smell of the humidity, the fog, and always, annie running. her little feet pumping, the garbage bag dragging below her ankles, arms outstretched ready to take flight, running ahead of me, and looking back at me, eyelash dew and wet hair, the sweetest smile, the sweetest giggle, the sweetest sweetness of everything and everyday and all the birthday parties, and graduations, and bonfires, and softball games, and really really good food, and all the trips, and the days with mimi, and all the days alone, and all the books, and all the cupcakes, and all the greatest sweetest things i've ever done with someone else, ever done for someone else, ever done by someone else for me, all of these times, all of these days, all bundled and muddled into this ONE day.

with annie in the rain. puddle jumping, smile flashing, eyelash dew and her and i.

she probably doesn't even remember.

she probably does.