im living in the house on hackeberry. im in high school. i go to edison. hmm. one morning i get up late, everyone in the house is gone. i throw on my clothes, grab my stuff and run out. i go across the street through my grandparents [who live in that house by the way] driveway and through their backyard. the two part yard is gone, now its only alot of grass and tiny trees. i barely notice my granmdother standing out on the porch back there but as i pass i yell to her and hear her say "who is that i dont recognize your voice are you leaving?" i run on into the alley behind their yard and towards my school. i start to pass a bunch of tiny houses and i relaize that stephen lives there and as i pass his house i see him coming out to lock his door. i stop and call to him. he sees me and asks me where im off to. i tell him and notice hes wearing a brackenridge polo. weird. we hang out a bit with the brack kids and i leave. i somehow manage to get quite lost. im on a secluded road that runs parallel to a river. im on the riverside. i see bubbles coming to the surface, slowly at first them churning. a huuuuge alligator rises to the top and floats there. im terrified. i pull out my cell phone and call for help, telling the police what im seeing. they tell me to book. i do. i follow the road. [it now has streams of water running down it] im getting confused, this road is leading down, how can that be? what the hell, theres a wall in front of me made of dirt, how... i see a little entrance way in the dirt, i go in. the walls are soft and brown all i can smell is earth. i dont know how to get out i need to get out. then i spot a little window smudged and covered in condensation. i look in and see a tiny room with a man sitting at a desk, typing and smoking a cigarette. i push the window open and ask him how to get out. he points and says UP. i look up and see a tiny spot of light. reaching into the dirt wall i find a ladder embedded there. i climb. the dirt is in my eyes and in my mouth, im drowning. god help me. then im out. and i wake up.
everyone is in a bad mood today. i dont know if its this house or if its anything to be worried about.
i just know that ifeel like shit.
at she hears nothing in the house around her, nothing at all. memories from earlier in the morning come to her. something about bridal boutiques and harsh words. maybe something about money. She rolls over quickly, suddenly awake….. but ….. Fuck, that's right, she doesn't have a job anymore. The late afternoon dreams are ok to have now. they come better after 4 anyway. Lucky her. End sarcasm. She gets up. A day unfolds and she takes every advantage, takes a few punches and fights for a state of ease.
I stood in parking lot full water and wondered where my mind had gone.
Tonight was interesting to say the least. We struggled to find things. We were antsy and energetic, yet thoughtful and somber. We were the epitome of "I don't know", yet we needed to do something.
Finally we went to the park. The park that ive written about here before the beautiful peninsula and the calming water. out there, with the nature and whatnot. the frogs singing and the ducks laughing. the city shining. at a distance. The moon almost full and the talk of people from our pasts. We drank, we laughed. Then. The cops came. We were questioned and we made shadow puppets out of the lights they shone on us. the other folks at the lake got tickets, we just got a goodnight and good luck. we were fishing after all. heh.
"watch out for those indie kids in the park after hours. Listening to sad music and cutting themselves…."
After wards we went to abes old pool at the old place. We swam and drank more. I was feeling light headed now, and wondering why the water was so soft. Yea. Jon and abe then decided to dunk me about 10 times consecutively. The flurry of water and the gaps of sky i caught between led to a I heart huckabees moment of existential proportions. I saw things coming, I felt things leaving and I held things standing near. If only for a second or two between breaths.
Afterwards I stole a plant from the bathroom.
on the way home i sat in the back, quiet and still a little wet. cool but refreshed. i held my head near the window and felt the wind wrap itself around my entire body, heard it whoosh whoosh whooshing past my ears and for a moment i could have slept there in that place, safe and fast as it was. with my hair flicking me awake every other second or so.
And I am now home.
-losing my job sucked. im still reeling. and im almost missing hearing the day to day bullshit from everyone there in that cubicle family. its going to be slow for the next few weeks. me with no money and a bruised sense of ambition in the finding a new gig thing. ah well. what can i do? beg? plead? no thanks. i guess asking people for reservation information can be handled by someone else. as for me ill find solace in the toys and the pets. maybe. MAYBE in food. bah.
-i cant wait to get the fuck out of here. i just cant fucking wait.
-saw my father today. the fact that hes getting weirder and weirder is just a little reminder that hes also getting older and older. heart attack memories and his grey mustache is worrying me. the old man. my old man. all i can do when i see him is listen to him ramble on about my tias and watch him torture the cat with cuddles. its the lost look in his eyes that gets me the most. the fact that hes not really here most of the time, or on loan from the drunken stupor that is his day to day.
-ive been taking inventory of what i have lately. been jotting notes on the different sections of stephanie. most of my notes have become scrambled. written in a language only the deeper sense of me knows. it makes it hard when i have to go back and check them. i dont understand. whats going on here? why am i deep in that old feeling of "wait, im may be fucking up here". i talk myself out of the weirdest things. the best things. even this paragraph. this bullet. im not real sure what i mean.
-i had a balloon at work the other day. it died.
-jonathan has just reminded me that i wont have a computer soon. this thought makes me sad. im so fond of blogging. fucking jonathan.
-i had a dream the other night. a single color scheme and alot of words exchanged between me and a person who doesnt exist anymore. we talked and laughed, talked and cried, talked and held hands. in the end we stood a little too close together and the color that was so prominent in the entire world was fading, slowly as if it knew that the time for waking was near. i woke up late. as usual. and ran off to work. our conversation was soon forgotten. hopefully he told his friends when he woke up on the other side of somewhere. hopefully it meant the same to him. who knows.
-i plan on learning how to play a musical instrument soon. piano maybe?
-6. for no other reason other than that. 6.
-im going to miss typing this:
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5/28 free free 69
so what brings you down to tunica?
thats the end of the list.
ive lost all will to blog. its like dragging out death. im not going to be able to do this anymore and i cant even go out with some kind of .... see? i just lost my thought. right then. fuck me.
yessir ive lost the old job. west has decided im not worthy to take reservations anymore. and im left at home with a few to little ideas about what to do. of course finding another job is in order. of course ill have to keep the plans i ad. of course.
its just another thing after all.
just another thing to dance around and fight.
life and that whole saying eh?
another thing. well many other things come to my mind here. the amusing twinge is in my head, with all its plays and drama.
[i didnt want to hurt you baby but your pretty when you cry]
[i didnt want to fuck you but your pretty when your mine]
[i didnt really love you baby but im pretty when i lie]
ive been hurting lately. biting skin and asking questions. keeping up with the old/lost friends and lovers. never openly, always lurking. but forever feeling like ive been missing out. always feeling like im the one that let everyone down. and its been years. sometimes. for others its been less, but the pain hasnt been. its seems that im a big fan off punishment. and i do it to myself alot. everyday at that.
the meaning i was trying to find here has left me.
and we're off for coffee.
a girl and a picnic table, sitting in an enclosed area with a captive tree.
she sits and watches the clouds through the bars, smoke trailing from her nose and mouth.
on her wrist, fading lines and a light blue string tying her to a red balloon.
she glances up and catches light coming through it.
the balloon shifts and wonders just how it can get away from its listless host.
the girl looks away.
her shirt has small holes in it from where she tore the buttons off.
her eyes are smudged from the wetness there.
its nothing real. their only irritation.
she cocks her head as the thought bows through.
then walks inside to blog.
my puppy makes me happy beyond happy. she the greatest thing. my little bear. she is going to be a beast though. grrr.
im having trouble figuring out the mindset of a few choice people in my life right now. its rather bothersome.
tonight was a goddamed good fucking night. we hit bucks [yes, star] after work and the rain came with us. we jumped into old books, now banned, the san antonio legends and mexican folklore. *shudder* giant owls..... the rain fell softly at first, listening in on our conversation quietly until it decided we werent paying enough attention. when the drops came bigger and we started laughing it swelled and the puddle fights began. floating cigarette butts in the gutter and us soaked through. wet hair stringy and shoes squishing we were off. ihop, familiar and unabashedly straight waiters, laughing at the asians, and another water related incident involving abe was not the typical night for us. but we took it. even the red neck asshole soldier couldnt stop the greatness. i mean it us. heh.
when we came home we were greeted with something i wont blog about, but wasnt happy with. ahem.
im tired and the hair dye has to come out now. im tired and for the first time i dont feel the right hand itchy thing. you know what im talking about. if you dont fuck off.
mmmmmmmm, inside jokes.
i now have neon orange nails thanks to a slow que and nothing much to talk about with fellow worker. woo.
im at work till one. im not happy about this. but the promise of coffee and good company is enough to keep me in a good way.
yea sure im a little sickly and i woke up too late.
sure i still have to go to work till .
sure im worried about keeping said job.
but hell. i had the most interesting experiences last night.
and maybe it was watching i heart huckabees or reading all that philosophy stuff on wikipedia.
But it was amazing. The thoughts I had.
i woke up with bruises today. they called me out of my dreams in perfect two part harmony with my puppy. [who didn't want to prove anything to me about myself, rather she wanted food] at first I didn't remember how I got them, or why my head was so tight….Then the details of the night came out of the dark, wandering groggily as if still drunk.
-the strangers leaving and us finally feeling safe enough to be us.
-todd. Just todd. When hes drunk hes enough to earn his own line. Haha. Jesus Christ.
-the backyard and duane winding up. Remember seeing the white before the pain swept through. Me falling back just a little and letting it come, breathing in and remembering how much it helps. Me trying to get him good. him laughing at me. I think I just might hit like a pussy. Great.
-the lovesick couple with masochism and hesitance shadowing and kisses stolen in the room with the dimmest atmosphere. His arms around her, her heart away from him, if only for the moment, and him with that fact in his eyes.
-jon and the potato salad. Gross.
-the all the fucking CIGARETTES. im feeling it right now.
-dawnelles dream with her killing her fiancées lover. I wouldn't put it past her.
-Me and Brenda dancing to Interpol. All alone with everyone around us.
-abe in his usual drunk mood. Angry and away.
-tom. Actually drunk [its been weeks and weeks] and charming as usual.
-the ride to the chevron. I wasn't ever going to say it you know. And I shouldn't have then. I can be happy as the person/part assigned to me person I am. but I got it out. and there was pain sure. But not anywhere near enough for me to be anything but ok.
Last night the emotions I was witnessing and feeling were overwhelming. They crushed each other and fell on themselves. Slurred their speech and laughed too hard. They were up and near the ceiling, watching and smirking. They slapped our faces when we began to drift off in a direction not pertaining to pain or love. They kept us there. They kept us open eyed. Well me at least. The whole night was just me lost and useless amidst the flow of it all. I saw it all there, in the smoky rooms, it was love, jealousy, hatred, lust, ignorance, and carelessness. And there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it except feel human and expel said humanity on the nearest person, like everyone else. I had no choice in the matter, the transition was seamless. And we just drank away. Sang away.
Here I sigh and wonder what the meaning of it all was. What it was all for, what I was supposed to get from it.
Heres to being lost.
At least it wasn't a bad night. I may have gone to bed feeling like and ass, but I know the people in my life. And they aren't ones to hold grudges. Drunk talk was always more embarrassing that substantial anyway. This I know. This I believe.
I have to go get ready for work.
3:55 AM - refer to the "unsaid" blog
Current mood: crushed
that is all on that.
im ok being what i am.
its just after a few punches and a few choice words, you realize that its better off. you may be better off. they may be better off.
and you dont necessarily want to delve into that.
-i ? huckabees. "you just cant understand my infinite nature" "yes i can! wait, what does that even mean?!"
-starbucks [yea we caved] i tried the black tea tonight. mmm. my new favorite.
-todd and brenda and the "funny seeing you here"s
-mi tierra and the fucking best damn menudo ive had in YEARS [+limon, +onion, +salt]. being there with all of the people i love the most. and yes that means you too abe. heh. the sparkling ceiling gave me the shiny leftovers you get when you closed your eyes and the colorful papier mache was comforting. i got the weird subconcious mexican twinge. i dont get that often. im usually quite white.
-another 4:30 am. mmm.
-abe farted just now.
-soy chicana la raza!
-i mean. um. never mind. [see above white statement]
-i am obsessed with death cab. obsessed. OBSESSED.
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5/24 free free great fucking time
[thats a lame work inside thing, dont bother]
I guess it is different now that I'm poor and aging. A little less asleep. A little more talkative.
Umm… Brena just walk into the room with a huge brush in her mouth. That was fucking weird/hilarious. Holy shit! She just walk on out with it. And I'm left with that strange laughing in an empty room by yourself feeling. Cute.
Where was I? Ah. So I went to breakfast with my grandfather today. We talked. I was already feeling weird seeing how he was in my house and in full view of our alcohol shelf and the rooms themselves reek of a thousand cigarettes and other such variations of smokable things. Sheesh. We went to dennys and settled sown in the booth and I was ready for the questions. My grandfather though, is one cool guy. We talked and talked and talked. About my situation, about Joey and
Aaaaaah.. Say hello to the angels. Fuck I love this song.
Ok so when I moved in to this here house there were these doors on my closet that have since been removed. Their French type doors with the angled shingles in them and whatnot. Recently I've made them my new project. I plan to paint them with a scene from one of my dreams, where the trees looked like fire and the ocean was just another layer beneath the earth. Pretty. I've already started and things are looking pretty good. More on this later.
Last night has to be the first night in a very long time where I've gone to bed before 12. Since in jumping on the bettering myself boat we're stopping the late night starbucks and mid week drinking in favor of eight hours and gym visits. Yea, me. Anyhow. So Jonathan comes over early, to stop in for a bit, since he was my main late night companion and now hell have to be the midday one, and he asks me if I would want this art caddy that his roommate left behind some time ago. I of course give him a fuck yea, and we go to pick it up. I'm of course thinking that no one would leave an art caddy behind unless there's shit in it but when we get home and I open it its fucking full of pens and pencils, rulers, stencils, patches, any kind of eraser you can think of and a gaggle of sculpting tools. Fuuuuuck. I nearly cry. And he just gave it to me. It was the fucking coolest thing ever. It actually inspired me a bit since my wrist was hurting from painting and I was in the maybe I should give up place we artists get to whenever we start any project. Sigh. Thank you again mister.
Shit if you ever want to court me instead of flowers just give me soft leaded pencils and kneaded erasers. Haha. Flowers are shite.
So yea. I have to get ready for work soon. A good ol 12 hour shift almost. Bah.
More Interpol. I need more Interpol. Right now.
this was the last night for the nocturnal idiots we are.
heres to the day.
and me calling in.
sleep will come easy.
dreams will some naturally.
theyll take back the night together.
and keep me from staying too long.
and when my friends see me in the sun theyll ask, "have you always had freckles?"
i was wondering about wishes and instantly thought of the first one that would come from the lips of every human.
the "i just want to be happy" wish.
i was thinking.
it just couldnt work.
im just going to go read, and maybe finish this drink, and maybe sleep.
i abandoned the myspace blogger for this sleek black bitch. mmmm.
heres to the morning colors staining the sky right now out the window.
there are times when im out, looking around, noticing lines in the faces of my friends... when i wonder what the hell all this is about. the great scheme of things. and i have no magical book [or a towel at that] and no clue. and all i can say is uh huh and all i can do is nod sheepishly while i wonder what was just said. to fall in the middle of a conversation can prove fatal.
i sent a message to the roommate about the things in my head. i fear that he may not be too happy with what i had to say. part of me knows that the icy comings in the next fews hours/days will hurt, but part of me is telling me to get a fucking backbone and own up when it comes to certain situations. its high time i start doing this. i need to quit being the shit taker and the pushover. i can prove to be too easy sometimes. and that is not real nice for the ol security and stability issues im drowning in. fuck sometimes. well dont i just have it all figured out. right. yet i do nothing most times. go me.
death cab for cutie is my new favorite band. im on the emo bandwagon and we're set to cry cry cry.
i feel the intense need to curl up right now on cool tile and just do that. its not the best of feeling but typical day ending like for me. god. maybe i should have stayed on the pills. ive said this before.... and i never really put much into it really, its kind of one of those sayings. the ones that slip out and are immediately forgotten. but now im really thinking and i just dont know. im no doctor. and the people who are think i belong on the pretty white and blue capsules.
who the fuck knows.
all i can think about is
-how lonely i am right now.
-spiderman 3. ugh.
-the song im listening to. and how pretty his voice is.
-my dwindling artistic drive. [sadness]
-how bad i just want to fucking bleed. [this is a scary thought. no one really knows how much]
-broken clay pots.
-sex. [what? Vonnegut themed, nothing more]
-thomas edisons dog.
-the fact that abe has to be at work in an hour and a half.
-my eyes. they fucking hurt.
-my head. that hurts too.
-the selfish aspects of people. and the blinding demon that is bitterness.
-the sound of the keys, and me finally noticing how much i adore that sound.
-"Catharine watched him grow smaller in the long perspective of shadows and trees, knew that if he stopped and turned now, if he called to her, she would run to him. She would have no choice. Newt did stop. He did turn. He did call. "Catharine," he called. She ran to him, put her arms aroud him, could not speak."
-the rest of the stories in welcome to the monkey house.
-me. and all that is me.
-316 hours of community service.
im lame with my fucking lists.
every night we seem to stay out later and later.
work is going to fucking blow tomorrow. sweet.
at least tonight we did our starbucks proud with an actual conversation that wasnt about everyone else at starbucks. god. we're those lame kids that go there every night. yet i wouldnt give it up for anything.
books books books. i need more books. and more thought provoking talks and musings. i need this.
im really scared about california.
fuck! im fucking tired. i want to blog soo bad.
it is now about 8:48 in the morning. ive found myself unable to sleep and full on the morning. me and abe started to watch Tideland before he left to work, its a weird movie co-written and directed by the 5th member of the monty python clan, terry gilliam. the movie is unnerving and beautiful and even has an intro from the director where he states, some of you may not like this movie, some of you may find it lovely, and some of you wont know what to think, but at least youll be thinking. wonderful. i suggest everyone see this movie.
today i am going to give my hours to a friend from work. me and duane are going to take the dog to petsmart and have him bathed and trimmed. hell be much happier, and we [the two humans] will have some time to talk.
i really should have slept, but too many of my mornings are stolen and wasted on tiresome shifts and disturbing dreams. i need to change this. change. hmm. what a concept. easier said than done.
coffee has me twitching and a stranger in the shower calls my attention. this stranger was once someone very close to me. we have since seperated and lost what spark once floated between us. there is seemingly nothing left except a breathless friendship waiting to be comforted and resuscitated. its all up to us now. and im not one for losing friends.
[i feel so .... helpless]
im trying to talk myself into something today. im doing the dance yet the bells and whistles are silent by my side. my handicapps. my weights to bear and drag. bearing down on my thought and making it impossible to wade through all that invades me in every way. hmm.
"squirrel butts dont glooow."
i realize that i am always in a state of fear of being found out.
go on. try to figure it out.
we go hand in hand eh?
it is now 9:58am
time flies and so on. but maybe without its usual ending.
im feel like washing something. cleansing and scraping. the dishes call my name here and i cringe at their tinny voices and promises of wrinkled fingers and greenish foam. if i must i must.
the same goes for ending this blog.
good day interweb.
[hello real life]
we'll never mention a thing about it.
we'll be fine.
but somehow the words keep going along in my head.
the ones i should have said while there was still time.
still i kick myself for being so naive.
its nothing compared to the dilema. its nothing compared to the everlasting.
i dont make sense after 5 card poker and me with losing cards.
i guess its best to be quiet.
and let things come to me.
-it was cool and calm out
-the tourists were laughing, and the margaritas were draining and somehow it was overwhelming- the pride i had suddenly for my town.
-i hadnt had a cigarette all day, and could only think of everything else.
-i laughed at my moms bright pink razr. and she took my picture with it.
today i saw my grandpa. he came from florida, in sa for a meeting, italian, a conservative republican, and i love the shit out of him. me, him and my parents roamed the river this evening, ate mexican food, gave our waitress a hard time and saw the most beautiful view of my often taken for granted city. it was a lovely night. spurs fever was everywhere and i had to explain the whole deal to my grandfather, which was funny, seeing how he knows nothing about basketball, like me. my mom got drunk, well kind of, she had one margarita and was instantly smiling and flushed. shes too cute sometimes. it was overall just a nice night out with mi familia.
its kind of funny, how me and my parents are around each other. when we finally left the grand at his hotel room we were in the elevator bashing the hotel in our snobbiest "yes we're from here, are you?" tones. i love them. their so fucking weird.
it was nice. and now friends are en route. the liquor is chilling. and we're ready.
fun fun fun.
today was verrry nice.
-cicis with tom. us and our constant fighting and the weird bond that tells us its nothing personal.
-saw alex, claimed my print, and learned about cooking with mama and a weird box puzzle game for the DS.
-walked the dog and got in some abe deuce and steph time.
even the evening was magnificent.
-a weird hour and a half when jon took me and abe to the gym with him and all we did was read hunter thompson and stephen king while he worked out. me and abe even took a smoke break, laughing the whole time and feeling like douche bags.
-the 3 beers from brenda = me drunk at starbucks as jon opens them one by one for me and abe steals sips. hmm. 3 beers. my poor tolerance.
-the bird noises and the bird dance.
-3 cheers for the interweb
-me finally seeing the new and spectacular changes coming.
-hello 5:20 am.
i get to entertain my grandpa today. hes coming in from florida and hanging with his weird granddaughter. i cant wait to see him.
im going to bed almost in tears.
this is what happy is.
my arms are tired. why?
im going to start wearing gloves. this whole quitting smoking is ... aaarrr.... frustrating.
my poor fingers.
that tight feeling in the head region. and me with nothing to say.
Lying in bed. Upside down and sadly not quite tired. I try to play the air piano with my feet. Im not very coordinated. I talk to the animals. They aren't very responsive/awake. I sing. It's nice when I'm alone and unaware of being so. There's a painting in the corner, leaning and wondering when I'm going to put it up. Waiting. I plan for it to go up up up on the ceiling.
There are days when being home isn't so bad.
……Then there are days when you can't seem to get off the computer so maybe your not really home at all. Just visiting on the interweb all day. In another country….. It could be that way. Oy. I've been here a bit too much.
I go out back. I laugh at the dogs bumbling walk, his jaunty smile. Wrinkled noses, mine and his, and twitching legs. Lovely. Its too hot out now. I go back in. pace. Rooms are empty.
Blaring the music now im dancing and eating cold ravioli out of a can.
Pondering the term bohemian.
I'm too fond of showers and shaving.
There's nothing to do but wait when you're in a situation like mine. When your friends/people are telling you that things are going to come together and you simply can't believe them based on past events. There is too much I'm fucking missing. The whole identification situation is killing me. Nobody knows how much it sucks that I can't go to a bar with my friends just to watch a fucking spurs game. Lame. And you know I could be ok with this for a while. But I'm not very patient and it's been too long. What the hell.
There's a mosquito in here. He will be dying in a fucking second.
[I've memorized the basics]
This is the time of thinking where I realize that there's a break in it, it's just passed. There's a moment between. And while I can see light seeping from it, I can't make out the content.
That mosquito bit me. I failed at killing him. Well played sir, well played.
The henna is still staining my skin. It's like a fading memory. I can almost see the sunset again.
To many line breaks not enough said.
I'm a little hard on myself eh?
[I want to go dancing]
[after I get my fucking id]
im off to the dmv this morning to see what the fuck is going on.
people are starting to think im 17.
[say it aint so]
there are days when i dont want to go to sleep no matter how tired i am. i want to see how long the eyes on this ol' girl can stay open before giving up on important things like focus and lubrication.
writing is my favorite friend.
cant you tell?
i called in again today.
i feel my job slipping away.
at least i finished my drawing/pastel.
im going to walk deuce right now.
me and him have things to talk about.
i need the alone time with my dog. the air of this cool night.
thank you texas weather.
for this little opportunity.
im only brave at these moments.
confidence comes at these moments.
right now i could stick a finger at the pope and tell him to fuck off.
i could be fiercely beautiful.
i could tell you all of my secrets and not finish them with an awkward "yes i know its stupid" or a "im so dumb"
i could do anything.
but its only me and alot of music and alot of art supplies and no one to spill to.
i wish this was different.
i wish i had someone in this chair with me in that one, him watching me as a i scratch and drag fingers through colors. him thinking about the vicious and amazing being that i am. him being slightly afraid.
and me, feeling him.
if there was one person in the world who could want me like i wanted them, there would be no more fear for me at night. there would be sharp words sure, there would be no smooth sailings. but there would be connection.
and i want that so bad.
its all i hear over the blaring stereo.
its all i have left to want.
that may muck things up.
things that may sever bonds.
that may make people blush
that may make people take me less seriously
or more seriously, depending on the person.
i dont know. ive been in this life changing phase. [this state of realization] and ive been seeing people for the first time. noticing that i miss things that were. ive made some bad choices before. ive lied. and misled. ouch. and am i fooling myself when i play the ive got it all figured out big head complex? do i really have the answers to questions and confession that have never left my lips? maybe i am being fooled.
i just want to tell you.
i deserve people like that. i need people like that. but part of me is holding up the yellow sign marked danger and im a gullible one.
i could make someone really happy.
if i wasnt such a coward.
I've been thinking of traveling lately. Imagining all the places I've been. all the shades of ocean I've seen., shades of forest, of people. The thought of I've been lucky has been prominent. Most people never see outside of the city. The hill country amazes them for fucks sake. And while I'm sure that sense of awe is unique in every way, I've know a deeper sense and walked a different path. I simply know what their missing. But its best that they don't. I wouldn't want them to be disappointed at some of the true beautiful things that things huge barren state holds. I don't know, thoughts.
Memories from the
Then my focus shifts to closer places.
Deep woods and flatlands of
Rocky beaches and cold winds of
And I'm just suffocating now in
Prepare for release.
Yesterday was something of an escape if you will. Hung out with a brilliant mind/walking encyclopedia. Saw a movie. Went to eat. Learned about helicopters and heard his stories. Fucking hell mister, I tell you. Some of the things he's been through. I just sat there feeling useless and space taking. I mean if things could have gone wrong.
Some things make you dream different.
And the syringes in my dreams today… they weren't pretty.
And as the glass of one of them cracked in my hands I started to get dizzy, hearing the music behind me and feeling the hands on my chest.
-i wish i could play the piano. just to have something to do with my fingers that doesnt involve cigarettes or sharp things. just to have somehwere to put my voice with its strange tones and off key candor.
-i wish i could sit and paint without getting bored 2 minutes in.
-i wish i could talk art history with my friends. too bad most of them are more comics and military than anything. you guys suck! lame! haha.
-i wish i could make our dog happy. he just looks so damn sad at times. i also wish i could talk dog. [maybe HE knows something about art history]
-i wish that i was more of a girl. and that i didnt look so damn weird in a skirt.
-i wish my dad would come through when he says he would. but then maybe all the joy/suprise of the times he does would be gone. bah.
-i wish i had gone through with my burlesque dancing dream.
-sushi sushi sushi sushi
i had a dream last night that i had found my id and me and my friends went to a bunch of bars. it was fucking beautiful. i want my fucking id damn it. stupid government. they should tattoo our birthdays into our arms when we're born. this would probably not fly to well with the ol' holocaust vixtims tho. eer. awkward topic. lets move on.
some points from my dream.
-driving that car, with all the turns and the screaming distracting me from what was happening in the backseat.
-the color of my sweater.
-my hair getting caught in her fingers, as she punched me in the face.
we were lucky enough to witness an exotic creature, in its natural environment amongst the concrete foliage, new to yuppie eyes [ and indie alike im sure] .....
first the indian festival. it was hot out in the ol san antonio and the smell of curry and the human body was everywhere. colors were everywhere. me and the girls walked and watched, feeling slightly out of place but all the same, trying. we got the henna hands and gale got the yoga therapy. while the artist was doing my tat another lady next to me settled in for one. she was older and smelled of other places. obvious. she was giggling and 50 something, white haired and in the holds of that ignorant touristy excitement. im sure she was thrilled, after all she was in the midst of something "cultural" and would share every detail with the broads from cards on monday after next. i laughed alittle and the artist smeared a heart. oh well. i tasted the strange foods and watched in a complete trance the dances the children were putting on. one little girl, who was last to perform, was really feeling the music. as she danced her expressions glowed and her feet switched. her wrists bending and her head bowing. she was wonderful.
sadly, i couldnt take my mind off of richard gere.
[public affection and whatnot]
we walked la villita, through stifling air and people. we went to the bonsai tree store that i havent been in in years. i remembered something. i had to know. i walked up to the woman at the counter.
"excuse me ma'am? do you remember the older man who used to sit out there and make origami?"
"oh mr. nod? why yes sweetie, he actually passed away about three years ago."
"oh. really? me and my brother used to come and see him all the time. he made me quite a few things in my younger days. im so sad to hear that."
"i knew him for almost 20 years. people ask about him everyday"
"well thank you for the info. im sorry"
as we left i made a mental note to go back for a tree. i had a deep sense of loss at what i had just heard.
overall the experience was a pleasant one. i could imagine how comfortable the people there were feeling. seeing familiar faces and hearing the same tones from people who had shared the same land. it was a nice thought. spare me not being able to share it.
now the lake. we had visited my mom and abandoned the mall and feeling froggy we hatched up a plan to go to the lake. we called the boys, told them to get the fuck ready and we were off. not without hitches but we made it.
the lake was amazing.
we found this little strip of gravel beach and we could see most of the water and the hills. we could see houses across the stretch of blue and green and waves moved the sound in the air. we were alone. we were drinking and swimming. smoking and talking. the sun was setting and the clouds were holding behind them ferocious shades of pink and purple. as it sank it turned red and the reflection led straight to you no matter where you stood. it was beautiful.
after it was dark and our heads were light we came home. heres me, face still slightly warm and henna ink clinging to my hand.
thank you saturday.
so heres me folks, again with the tired mistakes and the crooked writing. the unnatural logic and the taboo of workplace gossip. today im full of it all. today im just fucking bursting.
there is so much to say.
most of it will never make it down. but the stragglers can make for their own.
last night i got drunk. its nothing new to me sure, but my tolerance. oh my poor tolerance. haha. after the first small glass of rum and coke i was flushed and ready for a rabid knife fights. dizzy with the tie my hand behind me mister, ill take your fucking ear off kind of confidence only the grains can give me. hmm. we wrote last night. all of us. well the three of us, anyway. the only fools who could put so much into finding the paper, grabbing for pens to stand at the ready as jonathon said "time". we wrote and it was thrilling, if only for a moment. abe meandered through his thoughts, and having been drinking for much long than me and duane, eventually mustered a "hey guys i cant even read what im writing". one down. my scratching was full of facades and coverups. trying to pull emotion from something that couldnt stand up to the truth of the topic.
i was hit, i was burning in the air. i was down.
duane wrote on. he had much more to say. he was the last one standing when the clock finally rested. hmm. and he won. oy, he won. but hey i was a close second. abe, honorably mentioned. yes folks this is what we do on a thursday night. this is our party. hmm.
heres what i wrote.
the topic: the one that got away
me: buzzing softly
[im going to embellish. sorry. i have to. im typing now.]
the one that got away was the one that didnt fight.
there was no struggle, there was no turn in events.
there was only his back and sad pleading backround music.
there was only the fleeting glance of another lover running from the scene.
her reflection, if only for a second in the face of a grandfather clock. in our home. her smell on my sheets.
there was only this.
somewhere in the ruins you find yourself swallowing the gravel. its either that or choke on it. you see the lights instead of the steady fog. theres nothing sweeter than knowing that you will survive. unless you also know that youll now have something to carry.
oh, his doe eyes.
oh, his tears on your breasts.
oh, his words.
somehow your on a plane now. pockets empty, the old home empty, and your unknowingly making plans. quietly rebuilding. familiar faces are your new cover. our seeing them for the first time. again. how long has it been?
where have i been?
and somehow it makes sense to the moderator in your mind, as she sifts through your thoughts, nodding in short handed approval. simply recounting the points. checking the matches. double love. what a laugh. no one understands anyway. how could anyone, when you were so deep in love. again with the laughing. silly girl. get on with it.
god, her reflection.
and there are times when you reach back, if only out of curiousity. your hands are swimming in the stale air. thinning air. most times. you just have to see.
now your only anger.
now your fucking away every ounce of pain.
oh, his grip on your conscious.
oh, his wily curves.
count them now sweetie. your down. down where the loss settles. and youll never know how much your giving. until its gone. its love and all its glory. sign the waiver, meet the standards. the one that never fights.
the one that walks.
so yea thats what i wrote. i kind of like it. too bad it was a bit innacurate. fuck it.
duanes mouse is really fucking up my christmas.
aaaaaah. now THAT was nice.
but im tired and probably will be very busy tomorrow.
-you never appreciate a situation until the ones you love look you in the eyes and tell you its not the kind to be in.
-you forget how simple and human you are.
-farts are fucking HILARIOUS. [but only at 4:30 in the morning]
-you forget the medication. and its constant shoulder tapping.
-you can dance around any topic.
-hugs are priceless. [cause sometimes they can be empty you see]
-too much coffee CAN be a bad thing.
-the same but with cigarettes.
-i just want to get away. mostly to hear myself for a few minutes. to stop the buzzing and whatnot.
-the things you have to say arent what people want to hear. and you know this. and it hurts.
-you say them anyway.
-list are fun fun fun.
-i just get fucking exhausted.
-i see VW bugs and shudder.
-i dream of bunkbeds.
-even when your doing nothing. its everything.
my stomach may hurt.
my mind may be bruised and yelling at me for sleep.
my typing may be bad.
but for fucks sake.
im kinda happy right now.
fuck, last nights dreaming was amazing.
and oddly full of food.
and stuff from work.
the whole thing had a creepy feeling. an overall, "this may be a nightmare, but im really not sure" vibe. weird eh? oh well here it is.
im living in a tall apartment house. its on a road that feels very familiar. the color scheme is a green yellow that mostly comes off the grass and stains everything else. there are actually three apt homes in front of me. the one on the very left is run down and shotty, the shingles are flying off in the light breeze and the paint is nearly gone. the one directly in front of me is my home. painted a strange pink and standing proud if not for a tiny bit of damage to the front door and window shutters. and the one to the right, following in true best to worst form is magnificent. it looks like it was built while i was describing the other ones.
[this is sad, but they have names. their named after the 3 resorts of the grand casino tunica. the shitty one is the veranda tower. mine is the terrace tower. and the beautiful one is the casino tower. even i went aw damn when i realized this in my REM]
i look past them and see the ocean beyond. i walk in between my complex and the one on the right. i look in the windows and see people inside. in the one on the right a woman is being fucked, shes moaning and touching the face of her lover. in mine a girl is being raped. shes screaming and scratching the face of hers. i shudder at the thought of whats going on in the shitty apt to the left of mine.
i try not to think about it.
i walk on past them.
even when the girl being raped says my name.
down to the water. Something must be going on, there are people mulling and buzzing everywhere. My grandparents are there. Everyone I know is there. Some ask me to take pictures with them, I smile absentmindedly, not thinking. Not really seeing anyone. The water has my full attention. Its black and churning. Yet the sky is a clear and utterly glassy blue. For a second I think I can touch it and leave my fingerprints. This thought passes. I have to get off the beach. I walk back to the front of my house. The street has changed. The colors have become brown and grey. Its looking like rain. When I peer behind the buildings, the beach is gone, now only alley ways and darkness stare back. I look up to the top floor of the complex. Theres a huge bay window and I feel that is where im staying.
[faded lines here. cant remember much]
now im in my apt. its vast and im cold. And elderly black man is near me. Hes my butler. He loves me I can feel it. Hes been with me for some time. But this cant be an apt. im so confused. The walls are thick stone and there are strange drops and hallways. God my mind. My poor mind. He leads me down a passageway. I can feel someone trailing behind me, a young boy. My butler has disappeared somewhere and I need to find him. I step into a door way that leads to a massive room. the door is set up very high and I cant jump to the floor. I see my servant now, hes off on another platform. I say to him, we know you're a ghost. Why cant you just be honest with us? He pulls a lever. Other platforms come from the wall. I cautiously step on them and with my back to the wall shimmy towards where he is. When I lay my hand on a stone in the wall it releases another trigger and now the room is changing. Wire sheets come swirling from the walls, feet above the actual cold grey floor. Their brightly colored. Green and blue and yellow. I step onto them. I have a sick feeling in my stomach. I see movement. Below the wire I see children In old wooden chairs. Their faces are pulled back in disgusting smiles that go back to their ears and their teeth are broken and pointed. Their hair is standing straight up. I kneel to get a better look and their chairs start to move. Whizzing them around across the stone and forcing their heads back. They start laughing. I start crying. I hear a voice.
[this place is full of ghosts. We have our symbols. We have out rituals. We don't need you anymore]
I see art on the walls now and I tear at them. the noise of the chairs on the floor is driving me crazy.
[would you care to renew your lease?]
[would you care to take some home?]
[would you care to open your eyes]
a woman is tugging at me now, telling me her husband has been waiting for us. Hes making us chicken salad.
I wake up.
Yep. Im lost.
And I need to stop going to bed after .
I got to see steve last night. He looks good. And happy. This is a comforting thing. But the distance and the cold is still there and I guess it always will be. Hmm. I need my own car. So I can just drive and hit up every single public park in the city. I need to get some freedom. Ive been so fucking wasted lately. And completely sober at that.
It just hard to talk when people have more to say.
Hard to breathe when theres no space.
hard to think when the ignorance is laying thick.
Maybe im doing it to myself. Who knows.
i feel pretty good and jittery. mostly the coffee to blame but also the anxiety i have in my stomach right now.
tonight im going to watch my first real basketball game. im kind of excited. hah.
[the past is gone but something might be found to take its place]
there are things that i usually think about everyday. they ususally kick me hard in the teeth but today i cant even foggily remember what they were.
i just cant blog lately tho. this troubles me.
ive been hidden away by the curtains and my nervous system.
im sure itll all come back.
be patient she says.
[the first good thing ive heard from her in a long time.]
once more. dont try to understand. just read it, close it, and forget about it.
the first one.
its me and buffy. [yes sarah michelle was in my dream] we were at a beach, and from the way we were carrying ourselves we were about 18. she wanted to go in the water, but one of the older lifegaurds warned us not to. he said it may come down, just know that it may come down. i looked up into the sky and noted the dark steely grey of the clouds. she grabbed my hand and we went in anyway. when we first reached the water it wasnt cold at all, in fact i couldnt feel it. the sand was thick, like clay and we slid on it and struggled for footing. on top of that there wasnt really even a beach. you could walk out into the water, but only for about a few feet. it dropped off into a black abyss after that. we didnt care. we ventured out. there was a cliff to our right and she wanted to go around it. so we shimmied around the jagged rock, on that sliver of beach, trying to keep away from the deeper water. my feet were slipping constantly and i thought i would fall in, but she held my hand and we went together. finally there was a break in the rocks and it expanded into a small pond. we saw fish swimming by. small ones at first, then larger ones, and finally one with lashing tails and swords on their faces. she shouted swordfish! when suddenly one of them jumped out of the water and stabbed her through the hand. i started screaming and tried to get the massive fish off of her. after the fish had been removed from her hand it swam by me and cut me with one of its fins. it didnt hurt at all.
[i woke up here]
back to sleep now and buffy is still there. only now we're on an island somewhere in south america. shes all badass in her catsuit, and im more modest in camo pants and white tank, stylish. heh. riley is there. god i havent even watched buffy in like a few weeks. why are they... never mind. so we're on this island and people are getting sick. they start to get violent.
[ugh! its fading i cant fucking remember!!]
next thing i know we're locked up on the balconeys of two seperate towers. me and buffy in one, riley in another. their talking into these old looking cordless phones, fighting- both each other and the zombies that are attacking us. i remember killing a few of them, squishing their heads and throwing up a few times. i was terrified. and i remember telling buffy "you know hes still with georgia". she then hung up the phone and hugged me as the monsters fell in on us.
[i woke up here]
the third dream is gone except for the ending. which sucks hard core cock seeing how it was the best one.
the ending was me in a huge mansion. decked out in "modern victorian" decor. nice. i was wearing this froo froo ugly pink thing with too many ruffles. my hair was long and black and i had it constantly wrappped around my fingers. the room i was in was full of little girls. i heard purring at my feet and saw a small girl cat circling me. she was black with copper eyes and a white stripe down her back. i knelt and played with her, and she just purred away. suddenly there was commotion. a grand lady walks into the room, shes tall and skinny and wearing a thin gold lame dress, that hangs off her like curtains. she motions to the little girls and they all line up in front of me. she tells them. now we have to make cologne, using the glands of this animal. first we must kill it. i tell her no at the same time as one of the little girls. when i look at her i see my own face. years younger and filled with pain. the older woman pulls a scarlet string from her purse and lays it on the floor. the cat goes to it. im crying now, both of me. the cat eats the string and starts to spasm. it crawls mewling into a shoe that has appeared in the center of the circle of people. its contorting with pain and it looks into my eyes, pleading. im sobbing. the cat dies.
[ i wake up]
im pissed that my dreams arent what they used to be.
but what can you do?
the more humanistic of it has been stinging the most.
the financial issues seem trvial somehow.
i mean. god.
i miss people. even when their right next to me.
its like ive been in a room in my head, sleeping this whole time. while the other girl has been stealing time from me.
now that ive ventured out, the heartache is trying to heal, but the faces are new.
their impatience is confusing.
and im wearing them down.
filing away with rough words and anger backed with state hospital papers.
this path im on.
i hope its the right one.
im running low on shortcuts, and on time.
the patience of friends.
if only they had a pill like that.
but it doesnt seem like i need that one.
i have all i need here, around me. sleeping in every room of this house.
breathing deep and dreaming.
this thought is fucking wonderful.
i got a betta. hes red with flecks of green and his name is quentin.
he lives in a pretty bowl next to my bed, with green glass marbles and a little plant to hide behind. hes the first thing i see in the morning besides tom. hes very soothing to watch and he usually gets to hear my dreams before they fade.
im going back to work today.
this should be a blast.
sometimes i dont get the things i write.
-i feel like im pissing people off.
-these pills make me not feel my body.
-im still sad.
-i havent talked to my roomate in days. really talked. i kind of miss him.
-eggs are good.
im just gonna quit this blog and go eat.
[do it like a band aid, or that gauze you hate so much]
the other night, Saturday we had a party. it wasnt really a party considering we had partied ourselves out on friday and on sat we were more or less going with the motions. a group of people over 5, a dwindling bottle of vodka, and a byob warning equaled party for us. dawnelle had come by, we had scrabbled and talked, it was nice. when she left though it started to go downhill. the black cloud was waiting, it was just crouched out of my sight, waiting. and the sad thing. even when it started to wrap fingers around all the ends of my mind i just let it. ive been so used to the feeling lately. i had no idea. me and abe had a fight. the black crept. dawnelle gave me clothes i knew were too small for me. the black laughed. after a while i made the adult decision to leave. i called jonathon and we left. he had beer. we drank. parked in the parking lot of some corporate building and talked. i was trying viciously to fight it. it was epic in my head. i was bold but in no way stronger. after a while we went to ihop and the blurry forgetfulness started in on me. jon sat across from me with a look of concern and pummeled me with antics, trying to get me to keep my smile on. it was rather sweet of him. at one point he ran his finger across the pre-existing cuts and said softly, thats one big cat you got there stephanie. i smiled absent mindedly. he bought me a pack of cigarettes and dropped me off. i stumbled up to my house and looked at the front door for a while. Alarms were going off. this was bad. i needed duane. i went inside and went to his door. i knocked and opened it, thinking he was alone, remembering him telling me that jenn couldnt stay over because of her daughter, thinking of all the things that were pushing to get out. he wasnt alone, i had caught him and jenn in a moment of ... erm..... extreme affection? hah. i closed the door quickly and ran to the back room. the black took me. ive lost all memory of what happened next. apparently i sent a bunch of drunken angry messages, on myspace and on my phone. i posted the hating blog before this one. i called a few people. then i apparently walked into my room and slashed open every empty spot on my left forearm. i dont remember it, i didnt feel it. after i did that i must have passed out. i barely remember waking for a second and hearing duane and jenn leaving. he was taking her home. then more black. black black. fucking black. the next sounds i heard were from duane. he had walked in. he had walked in and saw me lying there in my side, one bleeding arm draped over the side of the bed over a huge dark spot on my sheets, over a huge pool of blood on my floor. god. i can only imagine what hit his mind at that time. he let out a stream of frantic curse words like never before then after a few seconds asked me "are you dead?" i stirred and said no. i didnt know what was going on, didnt even know i was hurt. he told me to get up we were going to the hospital. i repeated. no. he said fine im calling and ambulance. this got me awake a little. i said no, what the hell, dont call them. then i finally saw it. huh. thats all i said. then i laid back down and drifted back into the dark sleep i was in. he must have called tom because a while after i heard him come in. he came to me and i sat up. at least i tried. i was fucked up. drunk and bled out. they got me standing and out to the car. the time was about 5. i sat in the car. scared and half gone. catatonic. meanwhile duane was cleaning up the blood, my blood. i cano nly imagine. god. we went to the hospital. we walked in. a spectacle. me in a trance and tom holding me up. duane trailing a little. we found the er and walked up to the window. all i could do was lift my hurt arm a little and i was being rushed to the back. it had dried up by now, it was no threat, not as bad as immediately thought. but bad. the woman taking my vitals asked me questions. i must have answered. begin: stephanies hospital hell. i got 26 stitches and a barrage of people asking me why. during the stitches tom and duane switched off holding my hand while the student doctor stuck a needle into each of my cuts and numbed them. they held my hand while the stitches held my skin. i cried. hard. i could feel the cold coming off duane in waves. it hurt more than the needles. it hurt more because i deserved it. i was sewn up now. and abe had been dropped off by gale. we sat in the er for hours and hours. waiting. we're sending you to psych. were going to evaluate you stephanie. this isnt normal. insert my sigh. sfter the long wait, and after sending duane and abe home for rest me and tom went to the psych dep. a small room, set behind two double doors that lock from the inside. chairs and individual rooms for consultation. we were there. i was gauzed up and finally starting to become lucid. i was getting scared now. after another bout of loooong waiting we finally saw a doctor. i talked to him i opened up to him. i was in my right state of mind. i talked to him and he listened to me. i felt comfortable. i told him everything. everything that had ever happened to me in my life. the whole ugly thing. he liked me, and told me i was a sweet person. told me that i have a handle on the situation like no one hes ever talked to. it meant alot. i do. ive read about this kind of stuff, lived it for 9 years, been in it. he told me it would be ok for me to go home. he talked to tom alone. he told tom the same thing. we were had. after about an hour another doctor came. he wasnt very nice, i instantly bristled at his condescending smile and his short speech and laughter. he told me, you have a problem and we cant let you go hom, i wont let you. your sick. i stared to cry again. i missed the other doctor. i hate hospitals. the panic started. the desperation started. i told him that i had a plan. i have a support group, i have it all in my grasp. but i have to do it at my own pace. he said no. just no. he said that this kind of behavior doesnt "cut it" oops i mean fly out in the world. i told him im 21 im a fucking adult. he said too bad and slammed down the court order. i died a little. i called him a fucking fool and told him he could make someone heal. he left. me and tom slept in the psych ward. i was now in a hosp for 24 hours. we had holed up in one of the individual rooms. there were strange people about in the lobby, peeing with the door open and walking with blankets on their heads. god. when tom left to work abe came in with me. I slept a little more then waited with him for the sheriffs to come for me. To take me to the state hospital. We picked at the hospital breakfast. We talked. We delayed the anxiety. Then they were there. And I was leaving. Never before in my WHOLE fucking life have i ever wanted a cigarette so fucking bad. But no. during the ride I fell asleep again and apparently snored the whole way to the fucking place. Hah! Take that coppers. My snoring is horrible. [not really I swear] but you know. I was escorted in scanned for sharp things and admitted. They threw away the cigarettes that jon bought me. [I nearly sobbed] They made me sign so much shit. Fucking hell. From THERE I was bussed back to the "
Dad, tom and abe came for me. I stood by the windows, longing to see the red of my dads truck of the blue of toms focus. They saw me there when they finally found the building, waving like a madwoman and almost in tears. They took me home. Heavy with stuff. Mostly medication. I am now on: Depakote and Seroquel
These medications are supposed to help me. They are supposed to fix whatever is wrong with my brain. I have to say im wary. I hate pills. But im also sick of hurting. Physically and mentally. And im willing to do anything to be me again.
The boys came through for me with such a violent shade of love and care that i cant even write this without crying. I would be dead without them. thank you guys. really I love you.
So those were my last two days.
Im fucking exhausted.