The G-String Diva and String Cheese up my Ass.

"You're attractive when your clothed. You're a beautiful woman. But when you're naked it's something else. It wakes something up inside of me, something primal. And I am in awe of your beauty. Like I have never been in the presence of something so perfect. And it makes me feel like a smaller person, like I have been let in on a secret that few, if any, have ever been privileged to know."

Pull me out, and put me down. Help me down from this pedestal and listen to me, if only for a moment. There are few things in this world that can be considered "perfect". That is to say that...beauty and perfection is in the eye of the beholder. Then look at me and see the imperfections and the flaws, the tiny cracks and pieces that are being held together by crazy glue, the blemishes and the wrinkles. Free me from that stereotype and look at me. I am no different, and nothing to bewilder. Look at me. See me. Because I see you and I can honestly say that I know you are far from perfect. Find the ability to afford me the same courtesy.

I realized something about myself today. I am stark raving mad. . .
No, not really. But as each day passes I learn something new about the person that I am, and that gives me a glimpse at the person that I will become. The two conflict with each other. I often imagine the two conflicting sides of my personality as two old, British men, arguing in my head. There could be more. I'm not sure.

You conflict with my instincts of self preservation.

Like a child, feeding off of emotions and surroundings, taking in, absorbing everything around you. I am a teacher. I am letting you feed off of my abilities to be unattached and alone. You can see it in me. And like every other animal, I know you can smell the fear. It drives you to perfection. The idea of me leaving, disappearing without a word. Leaving nothing behind but a scent or a memory. Because I could, you know I could. Fear holds me to you. I don't believe you are ready to be left on your own. No, not ready yet. But I will leave you one day, and I want you to be prepared. Be prepared for the heartache. You don't realize it now, but the human heart is the most amazing and complex part of the human body. It drives you, motivates you, gives you life, hurts you, and it is beautiful...even when you think it's breaking. Something you might want to be prepare yourself for.
I am itching for a change. Change in scenery, situation, color...anything. It's time. I need to feel like something I do matters. If I had the ability to sprout horns and walk on all fours like a beast, I would, simply to feel somethig different. But I can't...or I could, but honestly it's not the kind of change I am looking for.
And what happens when the passion dies? Where did the feeling go? People get stuck in dead end careers and marriages and mortgages, minivans, property taxes, life insurance, arguments, debt, secrets, corporate politics, seperation, mediation, divorce. So where did the ambition go? Be a writer, be an artist, a scientist, an atronaut, a dolphin tamer. . . I mean, why the fuck not? Become a recluse and live only with the company of characters in your books. When did it get so complicated? Let yourself go, and do what makes you happy. I could be saying that because I'm young, and have not yet gotten accustomed to the ways...of life. But if that is the case, then fuck the "ways of the world". Ha ha ha... "I don't much like bills either. I don't think I'm going to pay them." I don't like bills. Everyone walks around like pompous little pieces of shit, thinking that the world owes them something. The thirteen year old girl that is just one g-string away from her future career path....asking me for a cigarette, with all the attitude and arrogance of someone twice her age. I owe her a smoke because daddy beat her, or mommy didn't hug her enough. And should I deny her he luxury of my hard earned tobacco, she will roll her eyes all the way to the back of her head, making me think that any moment they might just slip all the way back and she'll choke on them. Let it go. You think you are having a hard time? You think that life has been unfair? You're probably right, and I wish I could tell you that it's going to get better. It might not, and that doesn't sound like very good advice. Here's some. Take a number, and step in line. Trust me, you might not have it that bad. No one is saying that life didn't hand you a raw deal, but you can either deal with it and move the fuck on. Or wallow in that disgustingly shallow pool of self pity and watch life pass you by. Because, despite what you think you know, I don't owe you shit.
If I had known what path would have brought me here, I certainly would have walked away by now.
Man the fuck up, pull your god damned pants up and quit walking around here like you won these streets, and get a fucking job. Please, make yourself useful, because if you don't you are a waste of breath. Kids today...really.
Valium and vicodin...home made cocktails of pharmaceuticals, the perfect way to quiet an unquiet mind.
God, don't turn into your mother.
Is that what you think I'm doing? I can't sleep when all I hear is my own voice yelling in my head.
Don't quiet it.
I can't hear myself breathe.
Then breathe harder.
"With my feet upon the ground, I lose myself between the sounds, and open wide to suck it in I feel it move across my skin..."
Stop. Breathe. Breathe harder, let in in.

FREAKS! The story of the love ife of the sideshow.

Fate is a bitch, and I believe that if it could take on human form it would resemble my mother.
My intuition is a little rusty, and it shames me to say that I was shocked that Aunt Flow came to visit this week. Life, it seems, has a better sense of humor than I do.
I am empty.
That's a good thing. And I have yet to cease being amazed at the situations in which I find myself. I am without regret.
I know you hate your job. That is why they...the elusive and ever mysterious THEY, have to pay you to do it. I love you more when you are employed. I love you today in spite of your whining. Things will get better, I promise. Good things come to those who wait and if they don't...wait some more. There is nowhere to go but up once you have hit rock bottom. And baby, speaking from experience, you are a long way from rock bottom. Enjoy the time you have now, you...we are young and by default will get the short end of the stick. This horrible situation you find yourself in now may just be the catalyst you have been looking for. Life is what you make of it...so perhaps life isnt what you are dissatisfied with. Something to ponder.

To new friends, with old hearts...oh I am glad to have met you. I am feeling nostalgic and euphoric. I blame that on the drugs. Vicodin has spurred this momentary infatuation with sharing my feelings. Don't get use to it. I have a reputation to protect MANG, JU KNOW?
Ruth, you are great. I know you have heard that before, but still. You have inspired me. My muse..Ruth. Ah! It's a good feeling, to know that you have friends that share the same passions and convictions. You never bore me.
Corbin? I am really proud of you. Sometimes, when I feel like my plate might be a bit too full, I look at yours and feel like crap because I know I could easiy take on a second helping. Good for you. Hang in there. One day you're going to be a wealthy genius...don't forget the little people.
(literally)

And my ego deserves some kudos too. And here you honestly thought you had lost your sex appeal. Silly ego. Women don't lose their sex appeal. I didn't lose it. It's not like I woke up one day and said "Whoops! Where did my sex appeal go". I just don't use it like I use to. I have safely stored it away in a box under my bed. I'll take it out again someday when I feel the need to to. As o right now I just don't give a shit, and that is a very empowering feeling. I can feel vitality flowing through my veins. I have not changed, just my scenery. Everyone needs a change of scenery. I like what I see. It has all been laid out before me and the only thing I have to do is sit back and enjoy the ride. That shouldn't be too hard, it's been a hell of a ride so far.

Ugly Kid Joe and the mindless Ramblings of the Girl who CAN'T sleep...

AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! This idiot who lives upstairs....Jack Sprat and his spouse, The fat bitch who could eat no lean. I don't watch TV. I have a TV, I don't have cable, so when the TV comes on in my apartment...it's usually a movie. I don't mind if other people watch TV. I don't care if you want to indulge in mindless entertainment....DO NOT DO IT AT 2 AM AND WAKE ME THE FUCK UP. I hate Jack and his ugly girlfriend. He is a very unattractive man...she isn't much better. He is unattractive physically yes...but I could tell just by looking at him that he is a jack ass. He is short and round, hair spiked, chops strategically groomed...tattoos of ridiculous shit covering his arms. He is trying so hard. His girlfriend is just a bitch, and I hate her b/c she lives with him and they are both loud and obnoxious. And as they sit on the pompous, overgrown asses and watch TV...I am forced to sleep on the couch with my ipod blasting into my head to avoid the noise of the bullshit they are watching above me. I hate them. And hate is an exhausting emotion. I hate George Bush, I hate cauliflower, small dogs, my brother's grandma, peanuts, carpet, PORN, dresses, flat tires and bad music. I hate all of those things in moderation, but they do not compare to the deep seeded, loathsome feeling I have for the morons living above me. I have been conspiring to kill them all night...in very painful and time consuming ways. I hate them so much, I am grinding my teeth. I hate grinding my teeth. It is now almost 3AM, and I am on my computer bitching about my neighbors, who by now have been asleep for quite some time now. Here is the strongly worded letter I have decided to write them. It will be nailed to their door by morning.
Dear Jack Sprat and Jack's annoying counterpart:
I have never fully understood the phrase "Silence is golden". If silence was golden, then everyone would treasure it. I don't treasure silence. I do, however, treasure sleep, when I can find it. Sometimes I can go days without sleep of my own doing...but last night I couldn't sleep...
AND IT WAS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT. I don't care if you watch TV 24/7, I don't care if you wanna have sex like howler monkeys, play techno all night, have lobster races in your fucking living room. DO IT IN SILENCE. If you wanna sit around all day with your fat little thumb up your ass, so be it. But I should warn you now, that in the future, that should whatever activities you happen to partake in behind your own closed doors deprive me of well earned and much needed REM SLEEP, I will systematically remove everyone of your little sausage fingers with a rusty spoon.
Have a nice day.


Ironicaly enough, this is what was playing in my head when I wrote this.
I, hate the rain and sunny weather,
And i, hate the beach and mountains too;
(and) I dont like a thing about the city, no, no
And i, i, i, hate the countryside too!
And i, hate everything about you!... everything about you!
I, dont like a thing about your mother,
And i, hate your daddys guts too,
I, dont like a thing about your sister,cause i, i, i, think sex is overrated too.
And i, get sick when Im around, i, cant stand to be around,I, hate everything about you!Everything about you,Everything about you,Everything about you!
Some say I got a bad attitude,But that dont change the way I feel about you,
And if you think this thought might bring me down,
Look again cause I aint wearin no frown!
I dont really care about your sister
Forget the little bitch cause I already kissed her
One thing that I did to your lady
I put her on the bed and she didnt even say maybe
I know you know everybody knows...
The way it comes, the way its gonna go
You think its sad,And thats too bad,
cause Im havinA ball hatinEvery little thing about you!
Everything about you, everything about...I, get sick when Im aroundI, cant stand to be aroundI, hate everything about........... you! hehe