What's the news, Jews? That's offensive and I don't give two shits.
All is well in WTB, though it has recently been redecorated. The appropriate part of me wants to be furious, but honestly, I like it. We may have to hang a picture for Randall's burst of literaticy. I just made that damn word up. Either way, I don't want my mom to see the hole in the wall.
Fury is an impardonable offense.
I need spellcheck real bad, y'all.
It is hard, this thing, this losing thing. I can't even pretend to understand. I can only squeeze and listen. Just don't react as though it is more than allowed. This is the thing we do, this is the thing any we does.
Tequila tornadoes and whiskey winters, just the thing to break up the monotony of adoration and the like.
BTW, you're a Regent-damned vulture, miss. I will not be spiteful, vengence is too much weight on my fucking balloon. However, quietly, I will watch. I swear on any bit of filth or glory your kind is devoted to, her tears will beget yours. Perhaps I've no right, with the damage I caused, but I'll be wrong as long as you pay.
Kthx, bai!
Your beast,
k

So below we have an example of what happens when the spoiled is denied.
Now these "doll eyes" are a little less bright, a tiny bit battered, but all of my own leap.
I fell and fell and was not met by end, as I so thought I would be. I'm broken and reset, yes. Bruises and scars have faded. I fucking lived.
And how now, I've found and lost and found and lost and found and...you get it. Damn these silly beats of a dumbshit muscle.
I'm done, though, you see? After this, I give. Last try and then the cats.
Possible, very possible.
Leave the rocks alone you little shit, and take a look at life.

A child on the edge of the world. Doll eyes and a devilish smile and he looks into the void.
He breaths deeply and a chest of impossible frailty expands, filling with the air of forever.
A rock, on the edge, and he kicks it. His foot flees it's peaceful home and then charges the immortal pebble with the speed of fright. It sails, this pebble out, out, out into the emptyness and hovers with no point of reference and floats, safely, unscathed, a pioneer into the dark depth. Doll eyes watch unblinking, unthinking and soon there is nothing to see. No scream of terror to hear, just falling into gone.
A moment of silence for a fallen friend. Another small stone noticed. So close to the edge, this one, as though it has crept there timid and searching. The sudden foot creeps, too. This time he moves gently, softly, frightenedly. The tip, the very end of his shoe and touch. He watches, sees surely the very stitch that very point that nudges, follows on the stones nearly ended journey. On the edge it hangs, a moment to consider. Finally, resignation and another fall. Now it skitters down the cliff. It slams and bounces and chips and cries in percussion as it tumbles, hopeless. Bits are brought with him on his scrabbling journey. Finding purchase only to tear it away and down into the dark deep.
Our boy, our beautiful baby boy sees. His devilish smile that we thought had left him is back now. His white tears have to veer around it on the race to his chin. Doll eyes do not watch his second friend any further.
Those feet, those feet again are kicking, kicking away the world of pebbles, pushing away the world of stones. One final kick and he stands on the corner of there and there and then he is floating. Silence tears tears from his face, dries doll eyes. Devilish smile only for the depth ahead.

That's how this started. Now it's spiraled all crazy-like into the sort of strange that no one ever intends. Not a complaint, just wondering how the hell it got here. I always seem to back into these things, but this thing has me in a place I'm unaccustomed to. It's an insecure place that has me a tiny bit jealous and oddly pensive.
I think I like it. We'll see how real life is soon, though. Two months sober will take the shine from even hazel eyes. Odd to not be sure, to feel like I have to be careful, but without the nagging surety that I'll fuck it up somehow. Makes sense to me, eff off.
Do I go searching for the chaos, or am I being tailed? Seems like there's always so much on my plate. I love to be busy, but I hate the feeling of neglecting the people I miss. Aye, well.
What we've got to learn here is how to reject the parasite for it's nature, without pity for it's heart. How can one say, "you're no good for me", without facing the responsibility of comforting someone on the loss of you? Without assuring them it's not them, even though it is? Not personal, but only that my core is of clay, too easily impressed upon, especially by the overt and ungentle.
And where is this, now? Awkwardness has long been ours, but now it's not backed by the unconditional. Of course, if even a shred of that backdrop remains, then this is still a co-operative selfdestruction.
Now I know that love can transform, slide roughly but intact to a new place, I know there is no need for this silly pretzel bend of consideration so that another person may be shellacked against the rain is foolish. I only wish that I knew how to show another how important they are without going over the line.
I'm done.

So words, lets get some out there, hm? Just some little tiny bits
of shit
from pits
of unshaven, sullen, sores
unafraid of finding in me repulsion
hopeful of it in you
punishment for interest,
i'll test with what's confessed
or mayhap, a tease
a dripping, tainted wail
to beg for fun or finish
or at least to know what it is
that keeps me so
that mocks in woe
that will not grow
beyond this murky limit
bandwith notwith
but standing
energy finite and fighting
to be more than it is
whore just to his
slipping the cuffs
so gently.

Shut up, for fuck's sake...

So maybe, baby.
That's all i've got for you.
The possibililty of failing at life.
I am the destroyer of worlds, and as mine smolders around me, I raise my fist to yours.
Ha, so much for not coding.
But if you bitches could just stay back, or at least not let on...
I'm real hungry
Hope I don't purk.
Latez
~k

and what it is is an exersize in vulgarity and sin
this is how I recover.
and with flying rainbow colors and anger.
divorce.
not mine.
but one worth celebrating .
in excess.
I effing love kacey for what i do when I'm with her.
thank you for retuning the world of sin to me.
will this be a bad idea?
of course it will.
p and h
aka the poor and hungry
aka my first home
pheonix yes.
p and h double time on the affirmation
my goodness
again, Lady.
Thank you for this body
forgive me for my abuse
I love you
~k

Except these things aren't.
I've never ever ever made choice.
I've always hung on to both the best I could, sacrificing what I couldn't steal for what I was given.
And I've always been given tooooooo much.
There are two sides to every story and my side is always the hated one.
Too much to give, too much given, I want to give everybody.
Don'tblameitonthestarsDon'tblameitonthestarsDon'tblameitonthestarsDon'tblameitonthestarsDon'tblameitonthestars
I'm a libra, that makes me a whore.
Shit.
Your rules become mine and that makes me yours.
Something I'm not used to, what with being Winnie Cooper.
It's not the forgiveness, it's the face that just a hello makes me effing cry.
This is the commitment I could never make.
Fear, but not for I.
Who am I shitting, it is for me.
Hooks in, stupid blubbering bullshit out.
~k

I want you
I want you so bad, babe
I want you
You know I want you so bad
It's driving me mad
It's driving me mad

You hear him howling around your kitchen door
Better not let him in
Little old lady got mutilated late last night
Werewolves of London again

Wouldn't call it hate.
Wouldn't call it prudent.
Won't call for a few days.

And there isn't much else to say.

He is so painfully poetic, via text message:
Sitting by the pool watching the water breathe.
i'm not sure if i'm going crazy or sane.
I'm thinking of you and the best way to handle that, i've found, is to write you a letter you'll never see.
I cant help but think of the story you told me about james and its vicious relivance to me.
I feel an obscenly strong connection to you katrina.
I feel as if our shouls are like two poles of a great magnet.
Opposite yet two of the same, creating a pull.

I want to save his words, but they break me apart a little.
Las corazones son putas.

Strange to think that someone who could be your everyday for so long can suddenly be the person whose unexpected cameo in a dream can ruin your day. My dreams are too vivid, too heartwrenching sometimes. Som nights they are like the penance I missed out on in a non-Catholic upbringing. They gouge at my fears and hurts, put hidden desires front and center then snatch them away with a laugh.
Other times they tell me the truth when no one else will. Of course, the truth is often wrapped in torment, so I never know quite what it meant until too late.
Yes, there was one about you.
And you.
And you, too.
Where you there? Felt like you were.
Then there's that...Not prudent at this juncture.
I would that all the world was ruled by honesty and frankness.
I guess that means I would have the world blown to bits by jealousy and hurt.
Food and coffee.

My it's been a ride, yes?
I'm not sure where I am now, but trying to scry where I've been is getting easier.
Friends lost, in part due to me, in part to they. Can one really blame my suspicions? Fool me once, shame on me...You know the rest. I make myself a fool plenty, no need to open myself to having you do it for me.
Hell of a coincidence, anyhow.
So things might be ok. No more of this, this, or that. I'm sure I'd be judged, damned for feeling the way I do about the way someone else feels.
Such a sin to be happy?
Speaking of, I'll venture the admission that I just might be. Of course, as always, half hell, half heaven, but *shrug* it's what I do.
So enough past, now is now.
The shows are getting stronger, building. A group with the same ambitions has found me, and hot damn, things are moving.
Finish the sketches, don't be a bitch.
Blue is my new favorite color.
I need a nap.
Behind the plate again, crouched and ready and twiching a little behind all my protective voodoo.
Stupid moon.

Read and digested, it's time to learn control.

The land of love is a thorny one
With a path, twisted
Coils and stretches, arbitrary and knowing
Poiretting miles, then tramping leagues
And I, I cannot even spell the street names
I pass, learning in bliss and agony
One step is on stones to skip across the wildflowers
Another pulls at me, a mire wanting companionship
A single thing I have seen clearly:
Each stop is but a pause,
Every oasis a lesson in trekking
A warm place for visiting, growing
But the comfort is limited in time
As the real destination is no end
It is a crossing of yours
Into the way of mine
And to keep twisting is the key
As the map is too tearstained to read

Don't know what I'm saying.
But trying to grow, in my own special, special way.

Helplessing hoping his harleyquin lover's nearby awaiting a word.
Gasping at glimpses of gentle true spirit, her runs wishing he could fly only to trip at the sound of goodbye.
Wordlessly watching he looks out the window and wonders at the empty place inside.
Heartlessly helping himself to a bad dream, he worries did he hear a goodbye or even hello...
They are one person, they are two alone, they are three together, they aren't for each other

Stand by the stairway and you'll see something certain to tell you confusion has it's cost.
Love isn't lying it's loose in a lady who lingers saying she is lost and choking on hello.
They are one person, they are two alone, they are three together, they aren't for each other.

I do love you very much. I'm going to miss you so bad I could wither away. But the sun brings another day. Only my sunshine is gone. So in darkness, I'll live on. Goodbye love

Date:	2007-08-01 15:58
Subject:	Not used to this
Security:	Public
Mood:	blank
Music:	Jezebel-for the hundreth time

It hurts.
All my insides are so angry at me right now...I don't know if what I've done, what I've been a part of is right.
Skating through without looking around, this is how I get here, not trusting my heart or my head and just guessing at each new choice with a seething sense of pregret.
All for a purpose, but this is too hard for what it is.
I am too hard for this.
When did puppy love become such a bitch?

Date:	2007-07-17 16:22
Subject:	What do you do when you pick the wrong one?
Security:	Public
Mood:	pensive
Music:	pc humming, pretend working

Didn't pick, though.
I'm have a rough time of this...Why would he do that? I'd like to think he got drunk and just started banging on the keyboard in a random order then launched a sweep attack.
Seems not, however.
Made me cry, that fucker, at work, no less.
Please don't let my fear turn to anger.
Spite is wasted emotion.
Fuck you and your cockles.

THE "UNCOMFORTABLE" SURVEY

(lets see if you can get through it.)


-Longest relationship?:
Year, just one, never more. It's the cut off. Don't ask me why.

-Shortest relationship?:
I'm not sure how to measure. Not sure what qualifies. I only talked to the FedEx guy for three minutes, tops.

-How many boyfriends/girlfriends have told you that they love you?
nine. I loved them all back, too. Unfortunately, a little of that isn't enough.

-Have you ever thought that you were going to marry the person you were with?
Yes.

-Have you ever made a boyfriend or girlfriend cry?
Of course. That's how you know it matters.

-Are you happier single or in a relationship?
*sigh* Co-Dependent, so I wouldn't call it "happy"

-Have you ever been cheated on?
Not that I'm aware of.

-What is your favorite thing you notice about the opposite sex?
Depends on the kid.

-Ever broken someone's heart?
I wish I could say no.

-Talk to any of your exes?
Yes.

-Do you believe that you are a good boyfriend or girlfriend?
Nope. All that affection and support gets canceled out when I get scared and bail because it's too much or not enough.

-Have you dated people who were not good to you?
Of course. We all have.

-Have you been in an abusive relationship?:
Not that I didn't deserve. He didn't deserve it, though.

-Have you ever dated someone older than you?
Yes.

-Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?:
No, generalizations only screw things up.

-Ever dated two people at once?
It's complicated. One was for love, one was for libido. I ended up screwing everything up.

Ever been given an engagement ring?
Yes. It was, actually, quite nice.

-Do you want to get married?
Horrible, uncomfortable, gassy face. Noncommital mumbling.

-Do you have something to say to any of your exes?
Been said. Call for updates if you're that concerned.

-Ever stolen some one's boyfriend or girlfriend?
Nope.

-Ever liked someone else's boyfriend/girlfriend?:
Of course. Woe unto me, I like his gal, too.

I want you to know, Blurty, I'm only here because I have forgotten my other password and I need to hear these keys click in a cause that is my own quite urgently.
The world has caught the scent of my struggle, I think. Thamu, you sly fox, your teasing is going to end me. I can't say I don't like it. I know I'm probably, at core, more happy now than I will be soon, but I'm by myself for it.
Always before, someone to call at all hours, to say, "all yours" to. It eats at me, the fact that I want it. I know who I want it with.
I'm not going to do it.
I'm a junkie, an infatuation junkie. I love the idea of it. I do. I love the way it feels and what it does and how the world spins on my pointer finger.
It's not dishonesty. It's la mesas y the plateaus. We get to a level, and it's just not high enough for me.
UP!
One day I'll learn to get myself high.
I don't know what the fuck i'm talking about.
"You just talk, sometimes, don't you?"
Yea. It's like I'm trying these words on for size, see if they ring true.
That's why I need a private place, you see? Why I must write to me.
This is my test.
I'm failing, aren't I?

So I am quitted. For now I am, anyhoo. It's been five big days.
I think I gave myself allergies. Seriously. *snif*
I've nothing else to say, because, as stated, this is now another performance piece. Blahg.
~k

Drag show. Did a duet with Dale, a poorly put together mish-mash. It was recieved rather well, though. I thought Dale (Dawn) was going to shake out of her go-gos.
I still didn't get to do "Kiss Me". Dammit.
You see, the crazy thing about updating a blog that's watched is that it is much like correspondence. Do not misunderstand, I love some hot and steamy hand-written loose leaf. However, I feel this pressure to entertain you, to be pertinent to the reader's situation.
You and I fight. I carry it around for hours, days, but I get here and suddenly all I can think about is how badly I need a pedicure. (I do, something fierce) So then I'm unfeeling and the shit just hits the fan over the dinner table.
"Ah, Gramma, you've got some beef tip gravy on your muumuu."
To everyone here, I deal with your secrets better, you know that? I accept you for all the silly drunk things you do. I accept you for all the insecurities you carry. But then again, I'm an accepting kind of gal.
By the way, to you who isn't here. I don't hate you. I was mad at you once for making my big sister cry, but then again, she's a cancer. So do not flatter yourself with the idea I am wasting my precious negativity. I only allow myself so much, and unrequited affection for someone quited a moi is nothing I can really begrudge you.
I got downright nautical myself once or twice.
I think I'll write you an e-mail.
I have a busy week ahead.
~k