great expectations

ultimately, in the end
just for selfish pleasure
we end up doing the one thing
we always said
we'd "never"

Like I have that many lies to waste
or that much time to spill
to kill
yeah, there, I said it it
what you never could
what you never would
oh but wait
just for minute
just let me spin it
you did
and I didn't
or I did
and you didn't
or we did
or we didn't
and it never mattered
and we never should have bothered
bothered the rest
the best
most of the people
with our craziness
our lameness
ours
I mean..
mine
I meant..
yours
There, I said it
this never should have
this never could have
this never would have
this never
this what
this ever
after
never
ever
again
except it did
and it will
and it won't
and it can't
but I can't
I mean you can't
I mean we can't
never
ever
break our hearts
unitl it stops
or it never starts
I mean stops
forever
and ever
and never
ever
again
because I never win
I mean...
you always win
and I can't
I mean I can
at least I thought I could
at least you said I should
at least you promised me you would
stay
forever
and ever
and I never believed
and you knew you would leave
me here
forever
and ever
and never
again
will I waste another lie
or spill so much of my blood
I mean...my time
on you
on me
until the day after tomorrow
or until there's more time to steal
I mean...borrow
until the next forever ever
the next next of never

Random Play

I woke up this morning with some strange urge to write which would not be a problem if I had something to write about, so with my run-on sentences in overstock, I made a decision, conscious or unconscious (you be my judge) to write about absolutely nothing. Once upon a long time far away ago, I used to be fairly adequately barely mediocre at writing about nothing, babbling or rambling or bambling as I used to call it. Damn, I thought I was so clever, and so funny, and so inspiring (even if it was to nobody but myself and a handful of people that I was lucky enough to have grasped their attention) lucky, I say, because I could have just as easily been spouting off my nonsense to 4 blog walls, whatever that means, and I've never been really fond of an echo, which you wouldn't know by talking to me in real life because, hell, you'd think I love nothing more than to hear the sound of my own voice. I talk and I talk and I talk and I talk and I talk and I don't need a reason. I sing out loud. I laugh out loud. I live out loud. (Yeah, right, all except the living part, which doesn't mean that I'm dying, but I guess we all are, right?) Well....that's deep, but you didn't really expect to read this without me being just a little bit or a lot of, well, me? I haven't written or even attempted to write (not that I haven't thought about it or had dreams of coming up with some sort of brilliance-yahhh right!) for months now. Okay, maybe that's not so true, which makes it be----ummm...false? Sentences, fragments really, mostly, only. Like that. Let me find my little notebook that I used to (religiously) take with me everywhere. Let's see what I scribbled in there just for kicks and giggles. Hold on....

Haaaaaaaah! I'm flipping through...and I find too many fucking Wal-Mart receipts (they give you back your check now and I just shove it in my purse) and a note that starts out like this:

"(insert ex boyfriend name here), Is this wh...."

What the hell?

Let me find my other notebook.

Hold on....

Hmmmm...blank pages, blank pages, an address, a title, this title:

Simplicity (Complex)ity

'twas sure to be a blog all about how I can take the simplest of things and make them completely complicated. Well, duh, you say, I got that much from the title. Did you really? And again, I thought I was being so clever. True enough, I do get bogged down in the details sometimes, I might not notice the color of your eyes, but yeah, I saw the thread hanging from your shirt. I might not remember your name, but I'll remember the sound of your voice, the smell of your cologne and how you almost tripped when you walked away. Moth balls. Head scratching. The sigh and the breath at the end of your sentence. I know that you are lonely before you are even left alone to think about it. I know because I fuck the obvious and disregard it. I know because I see the things I want to see when I don't want to see anything else, when there is nothing left to focus on, but that tiny fucking thread on your shirt, that gets bigger and longer and more knotted every time I see you, when I see you, when I see you, when I see you. When will I see you again?

It would have been a good title though, right?

I find my Tropic Thunder movie ticket and my pass card to Epcot. Good fucking times.

I have those, lots of em...good fucking times, probably more than my fair share. In fact, I have a really great life, really great. There, I said it. My life is awesome, and I'm happy, emo yeah, but happy. I laugh way more than I cry, I sing way more than I shout, I dance way more than I pout, and I sleep way more than I don't sleep (couldn't think of anything cool to put there).

I'm figuring out shit which means I'm figuring out that there wasn't shit to figure out in the first place. Everything you need, you'll find within yourself. Of course it never hurts to have family and friends around when you have those moments where you decide to go full retard and you forget everything that's important, and it really is all about the little things. Right fucking now. Not dwelling on what I did last year or wondering where the hell I'll be at next year, but right this minute. And yeah, I'm good.

Are there people I miss? Every fucking day.

Are there things I'm sad about? Sure.

Do I sound like someone who has eaten up a whole bottle of anti-depressants? (here it comes, here it comes, wait for it, wait for it, wait for it...) FUCK YEAH, I DO! But nope, this is just me, another year older, another year older, another year older, another year.....older. And you thought I was going to say wiser.

Music still excites me.
The sunrise and sunset still move me.
My friends and family still sustain me.
Life still amazes me.

Still.
Still.
Still, yeah, I guess I'm still pretty good at this bambling thing after all.

So....I caught a glance in my direction.
Or....maybe nothing more than a reflection.

But....

I'll see you.
I'll see you.
I'll see you when I see you.
When will I see you again?

a bout and about

my box of 72 colored pencils and book full of empty pages

sour kisses and sour cherries

llamas that eat hands

a bulldog named beefy (tomorrow it will be meaty)

my new quilt

90 degrees

honeysuckles

improv (making this shit up as i stumble along)

baby ruthless aka his newest muse

the color blue

figuring it all out

realizing i was wrong

realizing i was wrong about being wrong

realizing i was right

realizing i forgot what it was that i was right about being wrong about

pink lemonade

butter crunch

silly dreams

hideouts

dirt roads

laughing at (everything)

flow-ride-ah

dirty girls

telepathy

New Again

scream-o

people who hate spoons

t-shirts (I'm bored of cheap and cheerful)

starfish, snowmen, and bridges

U-toob

sunsets (early ones and the ones for muggings)

writing my own songs

singing them to nobody but myself

and then, forgetting the words

going places

getting lost on purpose

writing crap poetry on the slight offchance that someone might not find it so crappy

details

arguing with myself and knowing that one of us will always end up winning
or losing

double knots

double dares

flip flops and messy hair

the smell of a suntan

having no a/c and riding with my hand dangling out the window

wondering why

wondering how

wondering who

wondering where

wondering when

wondering what (the fuck)

wandering

switching gears

changing lanes

crossword puzzles at 4:30

the time (right before and right after and every second in between)

blinking and almost missing it all

catching my breath

twirling my hair

being scared shitless but doing it anway

knowing (or hoping) that i'll be cool to my nephew for at least another 2 years

trying not to take anyone or anything for granted

learning (always)

having the best of times at the worst of times with the best(est) of friends

(new, clean, clear, huge, wide open, dark, vast) space(s) (travel, cadets, man)

lists within lists within lists

distortions

imaginary real life

daydreaming at night and sleepwalking during the day

clearing up misconceptions and clutter

using the same styrofoam cup until it leaks (or at least until i think the mold is going to kill me)

scoring concert tickets

jack (white, daniels)

striking the match

watching it burn

throwing gasoline on the fire

stopping dropping and rolling before it consumes me (just in time)

drifting off to sleep while sitting here

rambling

standing my ground (in quicksand)

choking on my own words

hacking them up to form a mess that (sort of, kind of, almost) resembles a blog