the children i know

will be 10.
and ill be entering my 30s.

life is flying by me.

god complex

i feel fucking GOOD.

im drunk and halfway to sleepy time.
im full.
im happy.
im danced out.
im complex.
im all things considered.
im this.
we are men.
men is what we are.
tonight was us.
tonight was drinks and beautiful angels waiting to be forgotten.
tonight was movement and total recall.
[without the shitty story line]

right now i can tackle goliath.
right now i can tell god to fucking eat a dick.
right now i can fill his role and make the world happy.
right now i am on top of the whole universe thing.
and i just sing quietly to myself.
i feel the smoke on my skin and save the numbers to the phone.
i abandon the pointless things that are envy.
i tell her shes pretty.
i tell him hes all the same.
i forget the same ol same ol.
i smile at that fact.
there are times we become as humans.
where we give the great and unquestionable fuck you to all that is silly and weak.
this.
this is my turn.
my chance.
my words.
i may be drunk.
sure
but in the end its just me the narcissistic corrupted masochistic fucked the fuck up girl who cant go one day without blogging and eating a ramen.
[heres me feeling lucky]
[heres me feeling happy just with myself]
[heres me feeling on top of the proverbial world]
[heres me]
[at ease]
sigh.
time for sleep.

by the way i am now stephanie the housekeeper.
well see how the new job goes.
well see how it all turns out.

as for anything after...
i only think in days.
tomorrow for instance.
industry anyone?

lets hope so.......


sleep comes.
deep, dark and pleasant.
complacent to fear. brave against prejudice.
it comes.
and i welcome it.



night

[total title change] and how!

this blog is not for the weak hearted.

and neither am i.

[youll need all you have to get me im sure. even then ill leave your fucking head spinning softly in idiocratic fashion.]

harumph. all the dreams im going to have tonight....... they better be careful not to make me mad. i get a little strange you see. and right now im all but in a sane way.

sardonic. my word of the day.

alton brown. my man of the day.

cleansing. my pointless attempt of the day.

sleep. my ending to said day.

hrm.

my fingers are folding on themselves. im so tired and all i can see is wilted baby with paper skin and the gentle way his mother picked him up, all the while with the terrified im fucking stuck this is my life im fucking stuck fuck fuck fuck look in her eyes. it almost scared me you know? like tomorrow god will fuck me and give me a baby to string me along in a steady downward spiral with it as it falls blindly into life. oy. what a headache of a sentence. what a migraine of a thought. creepy. but i doubt god finds me any kind of fuckable so im really not tooooo worried you know? more just in a jovial type of blaspheming mood. heh.
right.
your dream cake. tell me it. yes i said cake. no its not a trick question. oh for fucks sake.
[destruct. destruct. my head only knows single words sometimes.]
by tomorrow i may be stephanie the housekeeper. hmmmm. let the sexual deviance and petty theft begin. hee. maybe ill get one of those striped pink dresses. ugh. and my own cart. kill me. and a 75 year old trainer. woo.
went to nine lives today. scavenged the dog eared W magazines and drank cold dank coffee with the felines swooping down on my loose threads like starving mad[cats]. it was nice. being around books does something to me. like the pages are fluttering and the backs are cracks in the doorways. beckoning. yes.
abe posted a bulletin recently about chuck and neil and some kind of sick genius going on this very night. im all a tingle.
heh.
theres not much else to say.
im sure ill find something.
there.
feathers should be on everything all the time and they should all be yellow.

time for bed little one.
[or time for loveseat. whichever.]

night night.

urrrrrrg

a few questions.

on this strange rainy day.

part of me has been thinking hard on some of the goings on of my age group. us middle agers. us 20 somethingers. maybe its the weird mood im in today. that self loathing mode i love so much. dont get me wrong- on any other day it would be all the same if not for that single pixeled line of fascism present on the clouds of my mind this afternoon. and hey, i am in NO way a fascist but right now it feels like anything would be simpler than giving these filthy idiots [my peers as it were] total control of their own lives. anything that would stop the borderline retardation that is my generation. and im not saying complete fascist regime or anything im only saying stop the insanity people. or we'll shoot you. thats all. its things like thick lipstick and black gloves in the winter. its things like genre racism and total social protocal. its the lovely fucking things like trivial pursuit and douche-opoly. this is my platform people. what are we doing?
its like we have a dance. sure, we have a fun things we like to call existence. but its getting stranger. at least this is what i think just by observing the more recent group ive been exposed to.

people arent people anymore. their like posters on a middle school wall. covered in glitter and eager to please.

heres us keeping our backs to the walls, trying desperately to avoid all that is "mainstream". after all we have to be obscure to be anything. right?

heres us kissing and touching. its the new handshake. the new straightforward lie. its our new calling card.

heres us laughing and laughing and laughing until the buzz wears off or the drugs hit inflation.

heres us.

and heres my jaded opinion.
get your hands off me, i know im not making sense but for fucks sake doesnt anyone just talk anymore? its always a well timed joke or a silly anectdote. people are looking up their personalities online and selling the old ones to the younger crowd. love interests are spending hours making nice with the mirror only to go home smeared and crying and a little less loved or interested. urrrg. i wish i could structure my thoughts.

[its just. when did "awkward" become a sexual quality? a desired on at that?]
[when did people stop staring and asking questions?]
[when did the punk revolution make its said "comeback"?]

when did i stop finding this all amusing and start being a little scared?

you really shouldnt mind me. im a simple girl with a bitterly poetic view. as much as i question it- it wont mean that ill stop taking part. i love the pink lights and the dizzy headed conversations around the 40's and the goings on. its all just thoughts.

its all just semi interesting to talk about on a day full of picking myself apart.

who knows. im tired. and andrew says im going to blow up if i dont tell him where his mom and the spies are.

heh.

that is all.

end.

how to become homeless [a step by step]

1. check out a shitty house in kirby.
2. meet the slum lord. act respectable.
3. smell the weird stench of people past, ask why the toilets dont work.
4. move in anyway.
5. during first week get as drunk as possible. as often as possible. [maybe the problems will be fixed soon you say, maybe the smell isnt SO bad.]
6. begin bartering process- as rent is too high for this.
7. wake up one day and find said slum lord in your house, digging in your stuff.
8. suprise him. scare him. yell at him. keep your money. sit in shock.
9. you are now evicted.

congratulations.

this is where im a little confused. say, if i was anything other than a decent person i wouldnt be so goddamned befuddled, but i dont kick puppies and i love old people. why the karmatic disruption? why am i now in my roomates sisters living room, tired and sore from moving. AGAIN. this isnt nearly as funny as before... when i was younger and i could see the humor. now its just leases, and uhauls. first impressions and the horrible threat of a second story apartment and me with a thousand pound cajon to lug. fucking. woo. i dont know, its not so bad being out. its not like im starving and i still manage to wake up shower and walk like a normal person. but fuck am i beat. its nothing like the usual lovely depression, its more of a disappointment thing i suppose. its like getting a huge vat of gatorade on my head, its all fucking hoots and nannys until the hour after in sticky and pissed off. [i wonder how the coaches do it] bad analogy. i am sorry. blarg. i was just so attached to the fleeting space i had. for a second there i almost forgot that there were no doors on the kitchen cabinet and no lock on the backdoor. [the shitty wiring, the broken ac, the toilet situation...... man FUCK that place] yea! what the hell am i crying about? goddamn .. wait ... godFUCKINGdamn that place blew. now all i really have to worry about is how bad charlie smells. and man does he smell. [hes a dog by the way, and hes right here. pretty boy. peanut butt]

sidebar: abe just gave me a dirty fork to eat with and i only noticed just now. thanks a fucking lot mister. thanks. a. fucking. lot.

anyway.

where was i in my ranting. oh right. FUCK. i hate moving. all i thought about today was the fact that all of my worldy possessions are scattered in four different parts of the city. several of those possessions i might add are living pretty furry things. [my chu chu. sadness.] urg. what the hell. oh god im eating a boli. the ice sticks. the blue ones. mmmmmm. anyway it also didnt help today that god shat on me and abe at the public storage. thumbs up mister. i dont even want to go into it. its just that i cant get the smell of burning mulch out of my nose and the sick feeling of drizzle from my skin. but your right abe, we had some serious outdoor couching going on. and yes. i said couching. plus finding my dads cigarettes was a weird yet pleasant surprise.

[here tom makes squirrel noises from sonias couch, heh]

alright. let me see. im alive. we still have a whole pack of smokes. and sonia is a wonderful hostess. im ok. hold on. yep boobs are still there, and i think i may have gotten rid of that rash........ um never mind. i kid i kid. but being decent doesnt take away from the looming responsibilites ahead. cant wait. fuck i wish i was 16 again. at least them my parents were obligated by LAW to take care of me, not just out of love or whatever. damn.

[here i wrote something about sitcoms and how much they piss me off. but i think the bitterness is thorough enough from above.]

lovely.

enough of this. i had a dream the other night. it wasnt surreal, it was shifting and strange. it was normal. it was lifelike... and in it i was 26 and joey was 25. and alive obviously. it was the best feeling in the world. like for 6 hours or so i had him back and i wasnt scarred and sick like i am now. i cooked for him, we walked together, i met his girlfriend. i saw the man he would have been if he hadnt gone. the hardest part of the whole thing was waking up. drunk still and a little disoriented. i walked to my bathroom and looked in the mirror wondering what had just happened. then promptly cried for two hours. it was the most painful waking up ive had since a little over a year ago. but at least i can still feel tendrils of the dream. when i think on it, i can still see it. like a little movie-memory that wont ever happen but wont need to. topsy turvy. yep.

thats all with me really.

oh there is this song thats been killing me lately. they play it at this club ive been gracing. heh. gracing. its a damn good song. i just dont know who its by or what its called and its annoying as abe in the morning.

[here i think of my name in retard speak]

blarg.

im through.

im out.

im sleepy.

and i need a fucking cigarette.

good blogging everyone.

yesssss.

[ ]

the title????

Hooray blogging.

[my little lover]

I reallllly need a com.

I mean.

I've made several attempts to write at home. Tried the primitive paper and pen method. It all makes me sick really. Bah. And now, of course, I'm here at the computer and nothing is happening.

Urrrrg.

Oh god my stomach sure is happy though. Haven't had my moms cooking in a while, haven't watched the family cat eat a pigeon in a while, haven't had a goddamned calm moment in a while.

Nice.

Since we've last talked gentle readers I've fallen a bit out of line. Been drunk quite a bit through these patches. [silver lined steel, green glass mickeys]….Winged most of the conversation and explanations. [but you don't understand, and no I don't remember] Yet I have to say I've come out on top if not hanging from a nail. It's been a decent goings on. I got a few answers, cried in public, danced to goodbye horses, hugged Charlie and taken an extreme liking to a funny little game called phase 10. decent.

I stop typing here.

And think about cigarettes.

Heh.

Addiction. It's fucking wonderful.

Now, on a new note, in the ways of thinking. And dreaming. I've been all over the fucking place.

I've been cur-azy.

Last night I had a vivid blue dream. I was at school- High school for some reason. The structure was winding and brick. Beige walls and open classroom doors. Me and tom were walking through the streams of people. It was like classes were only in session for a few minutes before bells were ringing and the halls were full again. We saw Todd over by the attendance counter signing in for something. We walk over to him and tell him we're ditching and that he should come, that the water was calling us and the sand was packed perfect. [?] We start for the back exit. I glance in every other classroom and see people I know sitting and talking. They whisper about disappearances. They wave at us and turn back again. Finally we hit the doors and run full speed straight out. The ocean laps at the beach that runs parallel with the school. The water is rich and blue and calm. We run down the beach feet digging into the sand, which is wet like rain had just visited. Todd laughs and dives in. we see cops coming down at us, I don't waste anymore time. As I enter the water it isn't so much a feeling if being wet as it is warm and enveloping. Tom grabs me and we splash. I wake up.

It's very interesting.

I just remember

-the sensation of being very, very, very small in the extensive sprawl of ocean.

-the sand packed so firm I had to dig with my nails to make the hole.

-the sound of the bells between classes and the reverberations.

Saturday the end of the night came around and I was in super Kierkegaard mode. The night had been a little rough. The club was fun sure. But the icy hand of things unsettled was around my waist and the words of a hesitant friend struck me louder than any song that night. I felt all alone in the middle of the smoke and the lights. I felt like I was fighting a pointless war.

"If you cant love yourself then you cant love anyone else"

Hrm.

How do words of wisdom work when all you can see through the blur is red then blue then red again?

Well?

Ah well.

As I was saying the end of the night was me and Abe and a case of beer, out on the porch, drunk, and in my case belligerent, cigarettes and me rambling and rambling about the existential queries that plaque me day by day.

I know I was quite poetic at times.

And thoroughly depressing the rest.

All in all.

I found my center that night.

For a second I had it.

Then I was sober in the morning and the conversation was gone.

See.

Easy.

yes.

ahem [in addition]

so i thought i could sit here and sift and sift through the lovable filth that is the interweb and be ok with doing so but apparently im not. you see im having some slight security issues and i think my brain is terrible mad at me for being such a little wuss about certain recent sitch-ee-a-shons. maybe i need a book right now, something dark and curvy with sex and maybe some gore and perhaps an affable sidekick. gimme gimme gimme. then again this could just all be due to all the coffee ive insisted on drinking today. bah. i was just sitting here feeling a little shitty until i thought of that guy with the sign. the one that yelled at us.... "think of jesus while your getting wasted, fornicators go to hell, sinners have to fight". we walked away laughing didnt we? we walked away screaming our outrage. then that rush took me. then that swell of something red and strong seized my chest, something telling me that there is significance and its all in the little scores of happenings. the jesus freak one second. the mexican with the bagpipes the next. here we are simply walking and talking, making fun of the strange and fluffing in the humid air and we dont even half realize what it all means. tejano and the sun setting. the tired way our legs dragged. i just had to think of saturday. and ive found my comfort. even that sliver we understand, it means the world doesnt it? at least to me. heh.

i love it when that happens. realizations. hrm.

a sore throat and the things he said

[me to myself]

You're up way too early.

With the bed head and the laundry and the shifting of papers behind you. With all the churning that your stomach is doing. With all the acid there.

You'd much rather be sleeping the starter hours of a coma like 18 hours. Wouldn't you?

What are you doing?

When did you lose control of last week?

Head tilted, brain working, failing.

It was all so nice. Wasn't it?

Hrm.

[end conversation]

Stupid arrogant me. With my questions. And my points.

Yea.

I hurt.

Ugh, all I can think about is that dark club.

What the hell happened? One minute I'm damn near happy. One minute im feeling. Talking. Trusting. One minute I'm beautiful and laughing and dancing and being.

There was a slight shift in shittiness in the world and he walked out of it away from it.

to me.

And I'm not one for hope, believe me. I'm the one talking my friends out of girls and boys. I'm the one with the cigarettes and the bitterness. This isn't me.

[Well maybe for a few hours when the name on the phone tells me to pick up if you want to smile.]

[maybe if only for a few minutes at the end of the night, where he tells me to kiss him]

Arg.

Its very hard not to be agitated at the whole situation.

Because now I'm just a fool girl confused.

Here I see me standing perfectly still except for my hands listening while the walls fall. From nowhere. My own doing I suppose. Or not, I don't know.

It all happened then it all stopped.

And god help me if don't still care about him.

Don't get me wrong, I do have tough skin. I could deal with being downgraded, I could "slow down" or take space. But ask me where my abandonment issues stem from and ill tell you. Things like this. Things like being dropped completely and utterly in one single night. When words fall lifeless between you and the painfully interesting boy standing with a drink in front of you.

[Ouch]

He tells you this isn't the time to talk about it.

You couldn't agree more, but as mentioned before you don't know what the hell happened.

[You just want to know…..]

He tells you he's getting riled up.

Errrr….

[Must be when your emotions betrayed you, is all]

Your eyes fall to the ground.

He tells you not to cry.

You've never felt more like laughing.

[Besides you can hold them back till you get to the car]

He says he wants to be friends- that you'll talk tomorrow.

[Hmmm. Can YOU tell when you're being lied to? Me neither.]

Ask me how I can cry over a boy I've known for a month or so. Ask me how I can care so goddamned much. Ill just cover my face and tell you to fuck off.

Foolish me, letting the ol' guard down.

Sucks too. I really liked that club…..

There is a lot I still have to say, but id rather not say it to you computer.

Sigh.

My dreams are telling me that im wasting time. They take me to school, they make me fall in love, they confuse me in good ways and make me run more than I do in waking hours. Their trying to push me into happiness. They must know that I love them so. Hah. They work hard for me. I try not to let them leave. Most times they around me head for days at a time. Im lucky that way. To be so REM deprived. Lucky.

Last night the dream was in a huge glittering city.

I just remember

-my grandma telling me I was beautiful.

-my aunt running down the street.

-me not being able to spell "parody"

-the floats and the flowers.

Pretty.

Ugh I still feel antsy.

And wouldntcha know it! I'm getting sick. Ay, my throat is killing me and my muscles hurt. I think it may be these diet pills I'm trying, seeing how I did have a slight panic attack last night. I think I may be done screwing with nature.

[stupid god complex and nightly experiments…..]

Rarrr, break out of it Stephanie. Fuck. Soon you'll have clean clothes and maybe you can steal a burrito from your parents. Sweeet.

I need to paint something.

I need to write more.

I need … well a lot.

But I want just as much.

Is this dooming me to be disappointed my whole life?

Is it really as stupid as I feel to have so many expectations for the human race.

I think ill keep my silly perspectives.

Might as well. Maybe one day they'll pan out, maybe one day ill be surprised in that fluttery way again and not have to blog about it later. Maybe.

I like maybe.

Heres to this.

Just this.

whaaaaaat?

just sayin.

im at my dads right now. doesnt seem fair that im always here but i do enjoy his company so. plus we're watching E's most shocking moments in entertainment history. heh. yes we're lame. no i dont care.

i had a weird dream last night. something strange and comforting about a certain person in it made me wonder how it was all happening so fast and so real. there was a buffet and a dance floor and a boat in the end and several high high jumps. bah it doesnt make any sense in main point form but it doesnt bother me. i was there. i woke up at 7 shuddering and laughing. i woke up again almost screaming after falling into the water. i woke up yet again holding his hand begging him to protect me.

how very strange. i dream hard.

oh funny thing. as some of you know our toilets have been shitty lately. "har har". but this morning they work just fine. its nice to remember how to flush a toilet all over again. [gross tidbit, i know]

[my dad is yelling at the tv. you see, he doesnt want to go to the store without seeing the number 1 most shocking event, heh, cute]

god its hotttt.

so lately ive been struggling with my head. if you have read my older blogs im sure you can gather im not all that okay up there. after the stay i had to endure i dont want a repeat but i dont know what to do. im just anxiety, im only questions, im all sharp edges and where to use them. my wrist burns, my fingers are sore and all i can think about is the broken glass falling from the picture frame onto my bed. sigh.
your right abe, i am morbid.
but not because i want to be.
its my nature.
its my comfort zone.

bah.

you know its not that im not having fun in the world. swear. im usually very happy. i just worry too much. i think the happy thoughts but never really get off the ground. its a harsh reality im sure, and one that i will have to deal with. but still. i should be ok.
should be.
i mean, i have [someone] in my head right now that could make me smile with a single nudity reference. hrm. plus he wears suspenders.
you say nobody misses you.
well...

hm.

[sidebar- oj simpson was number 1. my dad was disappointed]

im blogged out.

sigh

away

thats where i want to take you.

my song.

thats what i want to dance to.

alive.

thats the place in the universe ill settle into tonight.

heres to dizzy heads and the ever present fleeting touch.

heres to being here.

for all the existential loveliness.

im connecting.

me and her

over the last few days ive had the insane urge to grab paper and a pen and write people letters. every one. ive wanted to tell people just what i thought at just that moment and most times i just sighed and kept cleaning the kitchen or smoking my cigarette. yep. i just cant do the primitive writing. the paper and the ink, the scratching noises and the smudges. its unhealthy. when im banging keys and able to sing or eat and type faster than i would if i was turning pages and sharpening pencils im on board. its all this. then my only obstacle is: where do i go once im here. thats my problem. i get here. and nothing. its all done. all my little thoughts and funny what ifs, there all gone. my short little memory fails me every time. and if it doesnt it keeps it from me until im just far enough from the computer. cruel brain. damn you.

my mom is funny. she keeps getting on me about babies.

its a little creepy.

so.

theres me again trailing off and having so much more to write. bah.

soon.

in addition:

our house that we recently moved into has been having alot of problems. but now we're on track.

i hope we can make it here. i really dont want to move anymore.....

again

just a little more from me today. its just that i havent had the opportunity to really write in a little while. well a while. i miss it. the keys the topics and naming the little scraps of day that i have to put down on these online journals.
so feel good.
i WAS just going to write in my blogspot.
and yes.
i have a blogging addiction. i am ok with this.

today was basically the most confusing day ive had in a long time. a long fucking time. too many things are happening and breaking apart. ive fallen into my art with a passion i havent known before mostly because i dont want to think anymore. i just want to ... well you know. get it out. everyday i sleep till 3. nothing new except for the longing i have for it. its not that im lazy. i just love my REM. i need my dreams. i need my escapes. i havent wanted to work but ive been going out alot lately. ive been dancing with a ferocity and a need that i usually dont have. bucking back drinks and laughing at things that no one else notices. i just watch the people. they dance and they dance and and they sway in their dizzy heads and touch in the worst of places. but their beautiful and unique and i love them. im fucking rambling. this is annoying. i love to go back and read the times i fall from the set path of writing but most of it is so obvious and lame. at least i think so. blarg. i need to find a job maybe and a have coffee with someone new.

i need so much.

and getting what i need is getting harder and harder.

rawr

i got something of a rough awakening this morning. it made me bristle just a bit.
fuck it.
i dreamt of weird vampire like creatures and the downtown area. falling into the river and starring in a movies we were making.
i cant remember much of it anymore.
but it was very interesting.
ugh i keep biting my lip on the inside and it hurts.

well im off. we get to see the inside of the house today. im kind of excited.

a slight buzz

and my head, tight and full.

of things that are rounded and dull, felt tipped and prodding.

i wonder what all the goings on these days really stand for anyway. all the slight of hands and all the sideways glances. is there substance? is this the birth of meaning? at least a doorway... at least a glimmer.
something.
well, i say there may be. i hope there might be. but the truth of the matter is definition is key. to have defined something doesnt mean you understand it, but people seem to be happy with it anyway. people stop trying to dig once they have a flash card to refer to every now and again.
definition. its lacking. but its hip.
sad.
all i have right now is a show on the 23rd. i have a role. i have someone else to be that day. i can drop my robes and pat on baby powder. i can stand very very still and send thoughts to the person next to me.
[its not very practical but it still pays the bills, apparently]

im just so god damned frustrated. im trying to get the people im with in my life right now. im trying to see through their eyes and make them as happy as possible. trying to make the happiness that comes out of me as contagious as possible. trying to feel through the uncharted waters. somehow im falling down again and again. barely coming up with only a handful of feathers from a bird thats flying away. im laying on the ground, hard and dusty, choking a little and tearing a little and giving up a little. and its always a little more each time.

depth.

some of us have it. and some of us can only write it.

hmm.

june 23 holy fuck

so the dresden dolls are having a few shows here in tx coming up.
yes i wanted to go.
yes it seemed hopeless.
until.
i got the bulletin.

"people needed. living statues. expression of sexuality etc etc.
sincerely,
the dirty business brigade."

i emailed.
they answered.

we're in.

stephanie barron.
living statue.

me.

this is what ive been waiting for.

cold brushes on my skin and my mouth taped shut.

for freedom of everything.

for my artistic longing.

sigh.

im so fucking happy.

california

i started to write this. but i cant do any justice to it.
ive been away from writing for a while.
bah.

i may be too tired to blog.


wait.

i found the strength.


part 1.
The bus ride to.
in list form. [im lazy]
-tom and abe dropped me off at my parents house. they were already cranky and running late. when we left for the bus we had to turn around twice to go back for things forgotten.
-the bus was waiting in the parking lot of the little red barn. no joke. we milled about, me and my family, until it was time to go. about 30 of us total, with sleepy eyes and coffee in our hands. the kids were wide awake.
-we got on the road. it was about 7 am. and hour into the ride i was already exhausted and ready to kill the next screaming cousin that ran by.
-hello new mexico. the trees were thinning. the ground was getting flat. at a rest stop somewhere we had lunch. near the bathrooms the signs blared. SEE THE COUNTRY, SEE THE BEAUTY. all i could see were signs and barbed wire.
-hello arizona. in all the darkness, we missed you the first time around.
-finally. welcome to california. we dropped my dad off at san diego. he was meeting with my great grandma. i didnt see him much after that. the rest of us continued to anaheim.


Part 2
Anaheim
-we settled into our rooms at the super 8. sure we would have loved the ramada next door with its koi pond and chinese bar but if you have any knowledge of mexican logic you'll be familiar with the "hey its a bed and a bathroom dont complain" clause. the older folks rested. the kids crashed and us middle agers were left hungry for entertainment. Me, my mom and a younger cousin decided we were going to find a beach if it killed us and after an hour and a half on the bus ride [and yes there are crazies no matter what state your in] we did just that. The beach was gorgeous. The sand grainy. The water deep deep deep blue, never ending. We stayed long enough to work our calves and steal some sand then we went back. Later we accosted the pool and finally we slept. Our first night. My home state. A cool breeze before bed and a sky vivid with red and blue. Lovely.

-the next day we got up early, put sunscreen on the little ones and headed for the self proclaimed happiest place on earth. Disneyland. Hrmph. It didn't seem quite as happy by the time we actually entered seeing how there were millions of people about and there was a complication with our ticket. This left my mom tres unhappy and me ready to run for cover and back to bed. But we made it in and we separated me with a group and my mom safely with the older ladies. Sure we mostly rode kid rides. Sure the walking Disney characters freak me out. sure it was bloody hot and everything was expensive. But it was all very nice just the same. I did have and altercation with a woman and her two kids and two girls ahead of us in the tower of terror line made me want to tear out my hair, but I wont go into such things. Id much rather forget that they every happened. Sigh. So that was that. After the park I felt like I had been run over then repeatedly beaten. Later me and my older cousins proceeded to get sauced on the veranda of our hotel to forget that children exist and to help us sleep.

-the next day we headed out for the important part of our trip. We picked up my dad and my great grandmother in san diego and headed for the mountains. The ride was tough. I was squeezed in very back of the van [the luggage area to be exact]. Bah. The hills twisted, the trees pushed together and my dad pushed 80. it was all my stomach could take. Throwing up is always better in nature. Hmm. We scattered joey high up in the cliffs and rocks and black forests. It was beautiful and I couldn't help the tears. Funny note. If you've ever seen the big lebowski. My aunt caught a face full of joey by standing downwind like an idiot. It was funny as hell. My grandma screamed. Hah. Im at peace now more than ever. Hes with my mother and hes with nature. Its just how he would have wanted it.

Later that day we went out to eat. The game was on and we were making fools of ourselves as our spurs won. It was funny, my aunts get one rum and coke in them and they act like the Mexican fools they are. Lovely.

-Friday we packed up and left. Me and my mom had a fight and the bus ride was excruciating. Children everywhere, no way to sleep comfortably and my mom and dad at each other.

Ive lost all will to write this blog.

Sigh.

Im feeling a little weird right now.

Maybe more later.

For now.

This.

fuck fuck fuck

ive had a rough week.
sure i went out of state.
sure i went to fucking disneyland.

but for christs sake the other half of the trip was hard. and im here at home
pissed off.

and feeling lost lost lost.

heh.

some fucking vacation.

cheers.

define this!

i cant seem to do it.

writing. hrm.


went out tonight. to the new home of miss dawnelle. got to see terry [who i love as my own mother] and sarah [who i fear as my own sister]. we also met baby frank for the first time. hes a sweetie, a true lady killer with his slow smile and boob grabbing. we tried to play monopoly while watching "scarred" but with every fracture and sinew sighting we lost interest.
it just felt good to be out of a house so full of shit, sex sounds, lingering pot smoke and bad old school techno. not to mention the douche couple responsible.
[could he not sense his own douche-baggery? - abe]
we went swimming with jon after. it was such a lovely sky tonight you guys. the purples and grey intertwined. the stars hanging by their invisible threads. beautiful.

i leave tomorrow morning. after that i may not be here much.
ill miss it.
this.
but i promise to make tomorrow nights blog a good one.
dont miss it.
hello 5:40.

well then.

i had a barrage of thoughts hit me all at once tonight at the bucks. [star that is]

i feel

-like im the lurking shadow behind every curtain of every person in every scene of every play in this so called life. im not one for being involved. im more on to stand back and let it unfold in front of me. all the times ive tried to be productive, ive missed my lines, and stumbled on the stage.
-like a passing thought.
-like a girl lost. without her feet under her, with her head cocked to hard and her hands twitching.
-very very very tired.
-like every person i see is splitting into sections, making it easier to sort the shit but harder to assess overall.
-like a seat filler to the boys ive loved recently.
-like late nights are better with swimming pools.
-like the boys at starbucks were laughing at me. bastards.
-[i felt] like walking up to the other one and kissing him deeply then walking away.
-like having a smoke.
-like im done here.

hello 5 am

a list

-its 5 o'clock am and im still drinking. which is bad? i dont know. its began with me waking up at about 4 pm to abe asking me if i wanted to go on a alcohol trip. bob and his little brother had come over with 2 cases of beer and promptly left to get 3 mixed bottle of liquor. goddamnit. we started the drink thing about 12 hours ago. early evening kings court and clerks. oy. i then passed out, dreamt, and was brutally awoken by abe demanding steph return to the party. no sir. night night. then about 12 i walked around a bit. returned to bed. blah, horrible sleep for those two hours. after the nightmare ended i got up for real [got up for real? wtf?] and went for food. what a fucking night. hmm.
-im getting the cold feeling in my stomach. the one i always get when i have to travel out of state. its not bad. sometimes welcomed, but i will miss the boys. and my girl. [bear] i cant stop thinking about what im going to have to do in california and how hard its going to be. what will i turn around and say? to my eager family. theyll want to hear me talk. theyll want something. ill have nothing up on that canyon ill have nothing. not then. i barely have it now, and soon ill have to let go. have to get on that whole "move forward" bullshit. hrmph. hrmph i say. im not going to be able to see my dad that way. the way i know hes going to be the way he has been all this time passed. ill have to look at my mom and see her tears ill have to help her down the mountain and shell be telling me stories. shell be saying "he didnt wait for me i told him to wait for me" over and over again. like she was before. god. and my tias with their silent vigils and all of their garlic and eggs. theyll take my head and watch me crumbling slightly, trying not to, trying to be strong for my withering parents trying to be the stable leg of the barron family as it says goodbye to its fallen member. [see the war blog, the family one]. i mean who the fuck has to do this? who has to do this? fuck. the storied i have here folks. the memories i have. all there waiting for children to be born and ears to turn my way. just waiting. fuck i sit here typing and all i can think about is how much joey would have gone apeshit over some death cab. heh. he really would have. he was never one for being ashamed of fag music. har har. its just the smell i get in cali. the over whelming menthol of the tress and the soft breezes of the ocean, so near and crashing eternal. theres nothing better than returning to the place you were born.
unless your scattering your little brothers ashes.
-ouch
-i miss work.
-i love beer.
- i love these people:
abe- for all his nerdiness. for all his laughter and weird faces. for all the times hes made me come out of it. just it. for all his patience at the tickling and all the times hes passed me a cigarette.
tom-for teaching me to drive and screaming at me to stop. for all of our fights and all of the name calling and all of the hugs after. for every thing hes ever done for me. and fuck has he done alot. for every time he drove out to capture on wild joey on the loose and all the times he held me after the shock left last june.
dawnelle [mi amiga]-the love of my fucking life. my guuuurl. my bitch. mine. for all the times in middle school. for her smile. for her love in general. for her happiness for me. i want to hug her right now. bryan better be good to her or hell be short one penis.
jonathan-a new thing here. for all his jocky goodness. for all his blogs. for all that he is and all the late night coffee and venting. hes a smart fucking cookie, and hes fucking wonderful.

-sigh. i just dont want to go. dont make me go......

-saturday. mmmmmmmmmmm.



[new section]

i am

-tight in the head. and fiery in my stomach.
-a little to loud sometimes.
-covered in scars and ok with that.
-awake.
-a little buzzed still.
-unable to read people.
-needing a smoke.
-happy.
-anxious.
-environmentally friendly.
-realizing that my cigarette tastes like barbecue.
-mmm.
-still drinking.
-waiting to dream, always.
-ready to paint, always.
-open to love sometimes.
-the best hug youll ever have.