gob is calling me liberation bra girl.
ani has renamed the church babeville.
the incredible peace and happiness i feel has as much to do with being a 'girl' as it does with being 'me.'
in the impending days there are some things i know...

cl blows.
meeting people online...unforgiveable. after all, it IS where i met xxx soooooo....
working at home means i neither have to shower nor change my clothes. i get up, put on paint smeared jeans, type type type, write write write, eat eggs, go to bed in the same shirt, wake up in the same shirt and start all over again.
working at home means that molly gets to run around, lose stuff under the couch and sleep at my feet.
working at home means i can have a nap whenever i want.
working at home means i can start at 6 and end at 4.
working at home rocks.
i fear hermitude is close.
and i like it.
i have cable, a desk, the internet, a phone.
i love my car.
i don't him.
i don't know that i need anyone.
the landscaper and i play pool.
the landscaper and nuzzle into each other until each of us a sloppy messy stick stuck with too many over roasted marshmellows and mellowing we marsh into each others insecurities and lack of knowing better.
xxx talked talked talked to the landscaper. offering proof of my insanity. offering proof of the delusional pain i never gave him, offering proof of the destruction of us.
the landscaper believed it.
the landscaper doesn't believe it.
anymore.
i buy shit off ebay.
molly has a halloween costume, booties, a hoodie,
i, a tom waits shirt.
his friend brings my glasses and places on my small small air conditioner.
and coming home
seeing said glasses
aschew
i cry.
not a bad cry.
just. a. cry.
molly and i go for long walks.
at night she nestles into me, as close as becoming me as possible to be and whispers that she wants a friend.
my friends surround me. suicide watch i said, laughing, they laugh back, a man could never do that to you, to me, but so much more than what i was dealing with a boy a boy can so easily do it.
but he didn't.
i'm happy alone. have never been happier.
no drinking.
dnna and i smoke outside,
while the chicken man hangs my shelves.
his pain is my pain, his observations like strolling through a gallery looking at post modernism are my observations.
we are one in the same, touched by it.
i don't need or want sex.
i need and want conversation.
i need and want me.

life is so so good.