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o lord, what the fuck?
one...
my cats turned into these giant fat rat-beaver things with no tails and they were climing up my walls... probably because i have rodents living in my walls...again...
two...
my old roommate/friend/etc was chasing my around with his pants undone soliciting me for sex, but he had a child's penis...
um...
yeah...
that's all i have to say about that...
um, so i started a new one... it will accompany my miss america dance... this is all i have so far, so help me finish it
i pledge allegance to the fags of the united states of america
.... (skip to end)
with disillusion and codependance for all...
This is s tiring task that i keep taking on, this rebelling against myself and then rebelling against my rebellion and on and on and on.
I just answered my phone even though it was a private number calling... i know i shouldn't do this... however the last few times it's been the monkey man calling about some fabulous ridiculousness going on... so i finally fucking answer it and it's some goddamn mastercard people telling me that i earned a blockbuster gift certificate. what the fuck, i don't even have a mastercard... so anyway, i was going off on someone's blog about something... anyway, it made me think about doing thing i know are bad for me because they are momentary relief... like smoking pot (oh, yes, this battle with myself is far from over, it may take decades...) before i "quit" i argued with myself for years whether i did it out of addiction or whether it really "helped" me. I was like, so, what? i quit smoking weed then i will just need some pill to get me through my life and i would rather have something that grew as a plant than some thing with undiscovered side effects or something... so that argument won for a long time... then i rebelled against myself and said, no the commercials are probably right, weed makes me sit and do nothing. i get stuck in this i can't do anything because i'm too weak mode... just like in yoga, you can give into the difficulty and let it collapse you or just go "aarrrhhhhhgggghhhh i can fucking handle whatever you hand me." ok, so working full time again, rebelling against myself. knowing i'm not the kind of person that can even come close to dealing with being in one place all day long... did it anyway to maintain this house thing. i deplore dedicating your life to the maintaining of a 'pretty little home." some lifestyle we see as comfortable, but isn't what we think of as comfortable really just us allowing gravity to pulll us down. like the force of "that is what you should do" is too great to overcome, so we slouch and then wonder why our backs hurt. i have always known that i deplore that lifestyle/stuff/material shit maintenance, but i rebelled against myself... ah there's that should thing again... or shaving me legs: i know that shaving my legs makes me prepubescent=weaker however i also get that it's cool that chicks are magic becuase they can turn on or off this magical femininity thing, the feminine mystique, or maybe i just want someone to think i'm hot because i really am that shallow. Or knowing that someone is disappointing you and being ok with it because you get that approval or escape or something... anyway i don't even know what i'm getting at there, but there is something about the path of least resistance or the more efficient path or what you should do being not what you want to do because slouching is easier right now even though it'll fuck me up in the long run... i miss josh... no i don't he was a fuck, yes, i do, he was a good kisser and i love the silver spoon, dude, he wanted a black bmw convertible ass-hole alert!, yeah, butthe dog was cute, yeah but the dog was allowed to be in the room during sex... ok, the cons win... done
Please be patient, this entry is not all about drugs... I was just listening to this radio broadcast from some guy from fear factor joe r.. i dunno, something.. anyway, he was talking about one of the most illegal drugs in our country, DMT, dimethaltripdamine... i probably butchered the spelling. get over it, i write stream of consciousness, man, i don't have time to fix the spelling. anyways, the drug which is so illegal is actually produced by our pineal (i think) glad. It is released when we sleep mainly. it causes us to dream. (ah ha tie-in with the dreaming on drugs thing). SO here's the trippy, yet sort of obvious next step, it released in insane amounts when we die. It what causes the white light, seeing people on the other side visions of love and light before death thing. Ok, so people smoke this stuff mainly and it produces a five minute high people report feelings of oneness with everything, seeing white light, seeing their body (tendons veins bits here and there) as pure energy, one guy said he saw a figuremade of energy telling him to not give in to astonishment. Besically it puts you another dimension. Which brings me to time. Did you ever read that book where the guy communicates with these aliens.. wait not jsut communicates, but is in a zoo of some sort of this alien planet... Don't ask me, man, they made me read it in high school... anyway... These alines had a fourth dimension and it had to do with time. The best way for humans to concieve of it was to say it was like a mountain range, where you can see the different past/present/future events and sort of pick and choose where you hung out, like you could pick out good moments and just be in them forever. I have this fear of time slipping... this probably means that i'm not using my time well, or wasting time/life/whatever> My teacher, leslie doesn't waste anything. Blah ok, back to the point. I look back on life's bits and pieces, most of which as general chunks, i regret. There were these things about it i shall list some here: I could get to work in 3 minutes: the 7-11 on the way, watcing the vine spout: sitting on the patio with everyone, cutting people's hair on the patio, the light in the big room, pippa, the courtyard at work. Let's stop there for a moment. I had time to kill. I was waiting to go to New York, i had big adventure in front of me, but for now, i was chillin. That courtyard is a trip, if you haven't seen it, you should ask me and we'll go there. I went there with Genevieve after a day of shrooming It was the day we saw the swan and angelynne (all i have to say is pink corvette). That swan, i knew it was something to pay attention to. I hate to be trite, but there's this smashing pumpkins song that goes "graceful swans of never topple to the earth, tomorrow's just an excuse away." Anyway, the moral of the story is that time passes things go away, people go away. Things are just suspended in this time web that we can't really see... you have to savor things while they are actually there. That thing i always say about looking up instead of just forward... It's really easy to look back along the path and remember happy things. Like the sunny days in that courtyard before i was the manager and flitting about when i peeked my head through the bushes by the boat in the middle and stole poofs. My class just ended yestday and i didn't want it to, but there come a time when all things end and it is easier to see why you want them to stay than remember why you wanted it to go when you had it. Or to think about what may come. But you have to remember that there is sun outside right now, too, and that you are wasting it thinking about the sun in the courtyard or on the patio or the sun that's gonan happen later... there is sun right now, duh... look up, you stupid fairybug... look up....
I was walking around Hollywood with my mom. (yes, again, my mom... or some parental unit) We had a dog with us and we stopped at that place on Sunset with the theatres and burke willimas and virgin megastore and CPK etc. We were sitting on the steps outside of it and the Tattoo Guy was sitting there. (See extended entry for more information regarding the tattoo guy. You really should read it just because it really is a funny story.) He was having coffee. I was a little embarrassed to see him, but i said hi anyway and he came over and sat with me and my mom. He confessed that he was on drugs (yes, again, the on drugs...strange). Then Megan Marsee came over with her husband and her dog and said hi and sat down. Darren (see below also) was with herand her other brother, too. And me, my mom the tattoo guy and the Marsees all sat on the steps of that place where i used to see movies and get coffee and i got my betty page shirt.
1. The tattoo guy: clearly, he tattooed me. I spent a good deal of time hanging out with him from December 2004-April 2006. He kept hitting on me. He was like hot for a tattoo guy and drummer and random guy, but let's face it, i need to be the interesting one. Anyway, we had pizza before tattooing and i was like all nervous mostly becuase i was about ot get tattooed by this dude who was trying to get a piece. Anyway, i blew it off for a while and then we went to Starshoes. Starshoes, people. I fucking hate Starshoes (see Bella Suicide on myspace). No intelligent coverstation. Then he told me that my red pants make my ass look hot... hey guys: chicks generally do not dig the adjective "hot." It generally means just sex, and that is not flattering... or something. Then he showed me the garage he lives. There was like drums and a weird workstation where me made ugly industrial looking lamps. He played an Elvis record. Then he took me home and i kissed him once and them i never went back to the tattoo place again. He called for months.
2. I went to school with Megan and Darren Marsee since kindergarden. They were twins. I never was realyl friends with eithr of them, but their dad was my principle and i hated him a lot. Anyway, lanst year sometime, Darren Marsee passed away. He had cancer and got a staf (staph?) infection and died from the infection. It was terrible. His red volkwagen van is still parked outside of his parents house. he was nice, he never did anything mean he was just a chill guy, i think. anyway, now megan is married and going to live in hawaii or something. i dunno... weird...
the acupuncturist says that smoking os closing your self off from love. I tunred on my party shuffle and the song said "you were smoking me weren't you, between your yellow fingers. you just inhale and exhale without saying a word." Its the little habits the rituals that make smoking a perfect distraction. Its the drive to go get the smokeable, its the way it smells its the corners you turn, it's the way you break it up and get the little particles on your finger, it's the sitting behind the bar, its something that makes me not think about me or anything for a moment. And then it's smoked and all you want to do is smoke it again. Anything to not have the now. To not be in me. Put something in the cavity in my chest. It's like it burns you cough, you get a cough and you know you were better off not smoking anything, but when you're not you just miss it. It's like the way i just do what you wnat me to do even though i don't think it's as cool as something else i could be doing, it doesn't matter because at least it's not just me and myself again. Even though when you're not smoking you do better, more worthwhile, productive things. No matter how good those things are, they will never be as good as the little ritual the momentary escape. You're right, i'm just like you, just like the things in you that i can't stand. I may always want to just "get really fucked up." I might always want to do things i know are bad for me in the long run becuase they are fun right now, because they fill that cavity they call the thorax. I may always be selfish and want to be able to just take off to the desert and escape reality again. Escapism, codependence, what if i can't ever give them up? I just may be stuck there this life, but the difference is that that answer doesn't satisfy me, the way it satsfies some.