it will pass in time

November First

I want to tell him I took my boyfriend to our tree. And that after that, the foreplay of The Tree, we went swimming. In the lake.
Only it wuz an ocean.
And it wuz the most beautiful ocean. One you could not imagine if you hadn't swam in it yourself.
So beautiful and pure and heart-filling...

I want to tell him that I wuz fucking with him as much as he thinks he wuz fucking with me.
And it meant nothing to me at all. I do it all the time.

I would tell him this, but I would have to write to him. I will not write to him.

So I dance to Chris Isaak, "Go Walking Down There" and I shake it all off. And I don't want to waste my time, or my heart, on this typo male again. Typo Male. Typo mail from a typo male.
This desk is tired of the wait. The weight of letters. Like this one.

So bitter and So sweet...

I would rewrite Joni's "A Case Of You" for this boy:
"Oh I could drink a case of you and I would fall down drunk, sick as a dog, get back up, and keep drinking..."

It kills me that that wuz the truth.
Everything I did in the weeks after I last saw him wuz to distract me from the thought of him. It kills me that, of course, that would make anyone all warm and this blushy detached egotist. And it wouldn't keep me warm. So Tori sings Siren, siren, siren.
The Smiths... "And as I climb into an empty bed, Oh well. Enough said."

Tired eyes.

He plans to road trip to New Orleans for New Year's and I want to kill him for that. That is my vision. New Orleans for New Year's.
("I was reading 'On The Road' and thinking of you and that aborted fetus of a dream we once shared...")
Oh shut up. Criminally vulgar melodrama.
If I see him in New Orleans... I will not sleep well.
I will not sleep with a smile.

"If you're so funny, and clever, and entertaining... why are you on your own tonight?
If you're so very goodlooking, why do you sleep alone tonight?
I know. Because tonight is just like any other night."
-The Smiths

Yes, I am blind. No I can't see the good things. Just the bad things.


You Were Loved
"I lost what I once found in you."


I want to tell him how pathetic and pretentious these letters of his are. These letters are a cat preening itself. I want to call him a self-obsessed faggot. I roll my eyes and laugh outloud at these fucking letters. Letters that used to make me purr- now make me ill, and infinitely angry. You fucking clit-tease.

"The first time I saw you I knew it would never last.
I'll tell you why I don't wanna know where you are...
I'm so angry, I don't think it'll ever pass."

"What a fucking joke. What a fucking joke..."

-Elliott Smith

Okay. That's out of my system. Moving on.
I have had way too much chocolate lately. Jesus. And I would still welcome more. True addiction. My mom re-hid our supply, but the kids I take care of have been sharing theirs ever so generously. And I am in no position to play Miss Cavity Cop and tell them to stop eating so much candy and chocolate. Because then they would put it all away and I wouldn't get anymore.

Oh woe is me, I am so very tired. Bad dreams plague me. Yug. Chases and persecutions. Trials. Highschool. And I keep dreaming about this one girl I went to school with and wuz friends with off and on since elementary. And these dreams of her always take this lightly erotic taste... She wuz so soft and sweet. Meow. Where is she now?

I have gotten all wrapped up in the world of chat. And I sit here like the freakin' madwoman I am and I laugh and laugh and laugh all night at the words of strange strangers all over the planet. Fucking funny.
Man, I am having way too much fun with this computer. It's probably illegal.

By the way, as of today, Angelfire says I can no longer go without those irritating ad banners on my page. Which is the lesser of the two evils here? :
The ad always being at the top of every page?
Or the banners you have to click on to make go away?
Do tell.


So cold. Still so cold in here. Brrr...
I think I want to move. Somewhere warm. With someone warm. And heads will roll if...
Forget it.