Breaking the Girl

crying it out writing it out talking it out fucking it out naproxen it out smoking it out
sleeping it all off

Man's Prerogative is man's best friend, don't let anyone tell you differently, because if they do, they are selling something, even if its only their POV, get your mind out of the gutter. And how do you argue against that, exactly? Its like banging your head into a brick wall; eating soup with a fork. Besides, haven't I emasculated him enough, what with the marriage and all, the one institution to which he never wanted committed? The daylight causes all of my naked thoughts to tip stall and my internal engines to die. So, I wait on a moment that will never come while a billion other moments slip away. It is all a mystery.

Don't worry -- I'm not going nowhere. I'll be right over here contemplating the oval bruise on my future thigh, while you whet your appetite.

Fucking Mental

Yeah, and he won't find better.

So, as I was saying, there's a lot of favors I'm prepared to do. Just tell me what you want and I'll travel and I'll fuck and I'll get fucked up and I'll really fucking live, once the mortgage clears and the grades are posted and the kids graduate and the house is finished because you own the place where all my thoughts go hiding and you are the man I chose and all the other things I deserve for being such a good girl and its so funny that you almost don't believe it, but, really, there is nothing like your smile made of sun. And now watch closely for my next cheap metaphor! We're just two hummingbirds in the middle of a squall floating on a maybe, lifting on a possibility. Beating on hope and stalling on doubt. Now its not my intention, but don't let it all go. Let's not mess up the function, not fuck up the flow. Boost me up my ladder, Kid, and I'll boost you up yours.

Now bite.
Me.
There.
Where I showed you.

Please.

xoxo

Better Living Through Purging

Cleaning out my garage is like untying a knot, trying to find the best place to start to make a difference. So sad, the many things that go there to die. I mean, go there and die. Like you. Because I have put you off feeling, I think, and I can hardly imagine a worser crime. Got that shaky head feeling, maybe its the adrenaline rush as a biological manifestation from a stark and new understanding of my own humanity or maybe its just the beginning of a nutrition headache. Hard to say at this point, but all will be revealed when I either crash or just simply get crabbier. Its true, I'm an unrepentant elitist with an inadequacy complex that devours me, and he loves me (he thinks) better than he's ever loved anyone (I wish) and I will continue to delude myself like all of those activist idiots who believe that human nature could ever be satisfied with what it has. Because that delusion is all I have (in which to believe.) Because things get dusty and objects break and possessions annoy me and because you will say that I need god and I will say I need it like I need mercury poisoned while getting my back patted and simultaneously getting a hole in my head. What I need is to do is to find a way to politely and grammatically-correctly argue that the biggest issue facing America is the irrelevance of democracy, moreover, the irrelevance of government, and I need to do it in an eight paragraph minimum. And also, to get over myself? Recreating paradise is always a bad idea but if the only bad thing you can say about the girl is that she is in need of a fresh dye job, then I am sincerely fucked. Figuratively speaking. I wish I could quadruply filter my thoughts but they overfill the funnel and pour over the sides and while I have bitterly shared you for all these years, I still don't got no regrets in my life (but the one.) Who am I kidding here, there is just too much that time cannot erase and I am so afraid that this is to my detriment, but you still have all of me. It is a which came first sitchyation: the ends or the means? To waste time thinking about such things is one of the smallest acts of the smallest mind. Like mine.

I need to feel the faustian white hot burn of his devotion. And I have sucked all of it out of him. Figuratively speaking.

Better Living Through Commercials

Baby come back! You can blame it all on me!

Better Living Through Closed Captioning

a tree woman fall on the house
don't want the Centerpoint workers to call in suck
we was just praying to cud

Pretty reporters who don't need us to tell them how important they are covering Pick Rerry who is busy pre-positioning the word "pre-positioned" into his (de)press conferences usually in reference to the staged lurch and rescue teams, gotta Rita-iterate that we was learned rill good from the other intense tropical weather system with well-defined surface circulation of 79 mph or higher. Vaya con dios, Crystal Screech.

I just have to remind myself that anything that isn't real is simply a symbol, which can be manipulated by my mind, which means I can take something hurtful and (damage) control it and yeah, I am yelling and bleeding as I argue myself out of being angry, circularing the logical drain. Poisonous and pointed words mindfully morphed to dulcet and downy, self-actualizing my way to The Bright Side®. Lying, you suggest? To myself, you say? We run from the water and hide from the wind and does that make us cowards? No, it is just the pretty window dressing on our own oppressive actions. But we are still cowards. He is lucky and easy and free and I watch him while he sleeps and he watches me while I sleep, he told me so in my sleep.

Counterclockwise Smashing, Scientific BJs, and Half-Staff Flags.

So much to write about. So little of it worth writing.

If you asked me the top three ways I thought I might die, black hole would not have made the short list. Long list, sure. Not top three. Running from cops was number 2. I'd like to think that death by black hole is just like a gentle floating and Criminal could pat my arm and we'd fall asleep. But he says it would probably be like omg the ripping omg. And I bet you a hundred dollars its more like omg the pressure omg omg I can't breathe omg. More like a hundred euro bet but you know what? Fuck euros. Fuck blue ray. Fuck hurricane (y)ike. Contraflowing motherfucker.

I solved the whole doomsday problem, btw, in a secret formula which I will now reveal to you to be:

e=mc^2^n where n = some quanta value of faith plus medicine plus magic plus a secret constant, which I will also reveal to you now to be 8.

Plz fwd this on to CERN and tell them I get a split of the monetary reward when they find the left testicle of Jesus in their researches.

Also, a mad shout out to 9/11. Keep on reminding us why we went to war with Iraq and why we will never go to war with Pakistan, who stands shoulder to shoulder with us against terrorists.