i fit right on the face of the earth
so inane and soar
and i took it all for what it was worth
'cause it's not worth a penny more
not anymore.
Tonight is one of those evenings where I just want to sit and write and write and see what I inadvertently say. It's been so long since I've actually felt like letting my thoughts take shape that I'm unsure how to put them together. i ain't gonna talk like your sweetheart, no. i'm through messin' around. and i ain't gonna talk like your sweetheart, no. i'm through always lettin' you down. I've been content to let my busy schedule keep my brain activity focused on other, "more important" things than my writing. Or my feelings. Or much deep thought, actually. Well, thought that didn't include the properties of water, or if it's saturated fatty acids or unsaturated fatty acids that has double bonds and is liquid at room temperature. [for the record, it's the unsaturated ones.] Or which artists represent abstract nonrepresentational expressionalism [I'm still not completely sure that's even a possibility]. Or how people watching can be considered a science and we call it Sociology and give it all kinds of fancy definitions. I actually have a homework assignment for that class that consists of recording 10 random facebook statuses of my friends [anonymously of course] and then writing an assumption of what I think that person's values are. The theory is that most of them will revolve around sex and money. Interesting, no? there's nothing left and i'm sure that it's a sign that maybe i'm about as good as gone. Although we all know what assumptions get us... asses out of you. or me. wait, what?
I read in this month's Rolling Stone [which has BOWIE in his full ZIGGY STARDUST splendor on the cover] that they are creating a Grateful Dead online game called The Epic Tour. Being the nerd that I am I of course immediately created my own lil Bear version of myself. Well, the free version of myself anyway. [no bad hooker jokes, please.]
i can feel it in my blood, i hold the future in my hand.
I'm starting to get the feeling that I'm only hacking away at this keyboard so that I won't feel so alone. Don't get me wrong, I fully enjoy having the house to myself. My lack of independence after living on my own for so long is seriously starting to chafe. I miss my apartment. I miss 'our' house. Or really, it was his house. But apparently I made it a home... or so I was told... weeeel. We see how well that worked. Hm. torn and tattered from the fall and waiting to rise up again. But I just want to not sleep alone for fucking once! If everyone is fucking lonely and there's all these people having to hook up through internet dating relationships and everything and I'm not even looking for a fucking date! This is a no brainer folks. Here, let me give you a play-by-play in case you find yourself in a similar situation and are unsure how to respond.
I say: "hey, you're kinda cute. Wanna watch a movie?"
You say: "What movie?"
I say: "Uh, I have a lot and I've seen them all. How about you pick?"
NOTE: [AND THIS IS IMPORTANT] THIS IS YOUR IN.
You say: "Cool, I'll bring the popcorn."
You then arrive, popcorn bucket in hand, and proceed to join me for a cuddle and movie, followed by an intensely amazing night of peaceful, companionable, sleepytime. [NO SEX REQUIRED!] i know my days are numbered, but i'm bad at math. i got a dick so hard that a cat could scratch, made some bad decisions i couldn't go back...
....yeeeaaaaah. I should probably go to bed. Or do my weird little awesome, only-when-I'm-alone-in-an-empty-house Aly Dance Party jig some more until I just keel over from sheer exhaustion... I've only been caught at this [the dance part] once. Which was actually pretty hilarious because I had a corndog in my hand at the time. And I'm pretty sure I was singing into it like a microphone...
ohwhitegirl.
sweet dreams are made of these.
courtesy; deer.tick/middle.brother/marilyn.manson
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