Recently in can't see the end Category

no really. i am sitting here (it's late i've had beers it was a long stressy day) and for the hell of it typed 'patty melton' into google (because patricia malattia was my best friend from grade school till we grew up got married had babies and she married this guy named jesse melton). and google decides to give me this.

now there's no reason they would have moved to indiana and last i knew of her working it was as a bank teller so this is probably some totally other patty melton. i'm sure.

but it still shook me to my backwards-glancing core, seeing 'estate of'.

i was once engaged to jesse's brother charles. we parted ways. then i went through some shit and i borrowed some money from patty. never did pay her back. would really like to apologize. i'm sure she's ok, somewhere, wherever she is which would not be a grave in indiana right? of course not.

fucking internet.

forty two minutes. unheard of. most of my logins lately clock in right around six minutes -- what i get for a quarter. i can spend a quarter. i really start balking at things like forty two minutes (buck seventy five) -- and that was two comments, two tagboard entries, and an email.

anyway, hi, i probably owe you an email! i try to compose offline but i'm not configured that way, so it's a struggle & let's face it -- i'm lazy. i'll obsess my ass off on things, which makes me look productive, but trust me, i hardly ever produce what i should be producing. usually because i'm obsessing on something else. but anyway.

today i lost a big chunk of my afternoon to a pen. and i wasn't even sure it existed.

...and then it hit me. about fucking time, i thought, i mean i was about done with the waiting which means nothing if you think about it which is why i try not to do that. as usual i wallow so musically, it's all about the soundtrack & this is the most meaningful thing i'll say all day today.

the extent of the beauty of the world around me pains me so on days like this one. i feel it physically, not pain actually more like an ache really, the pains come randomly sharp like clarity momentous occasionally oh fuck this noise let's you/me get the fuck outta here/now i mean it this time

& with that, release is ours

what? yeah. just like that. why not? simple easy free

oh okay i know no not really

nice try though

some great minds have taught me to think. as to the lesson of the flesh, we're all on our own.

it helps if you have the latest windows media i think. click more, you'll see what i mean.

You say, I cannot get there from here, baby
Then I don't care where I'm goin'
Here's to your thin red line
Mmm, I'm stepping over

Change, nothin' stays the same
Unchained, and ya hit the ground runnin'

I know, I don't ask for permission
This is my chance to fly
Maybe enough ain't enough for you
But it's my turn to try

Change, nothin' stays the same
Unchained, and ya hit the ground running

person c, a child, must be at school at eight am with a ten minute grace period. person a, an asshole, wakes up fifteen minutes before eight & announces that person c is going to be late & launches into the routine. the routine is sacred & must remain unbroken, person c is delivered to the office with an apology some thirty minutes late.

on a different morning person a is absent. person b, a bitch (just ask person a), wakes up at seven minutes before eight am & bounces into action & routine is sent scattering out of the way & shortcuts are taken & person c is delivered to the back gate amidst the other last minute parents, (who drive entirely differently than the normal timers, person b notes) at ten minutes past eight seconds from late enough to face the office twice in one week.
Unchained, and ya hit the ground running
person b wishes to state for the record that the obvious change of plans written between these lines represents necessary flexibility & nothing else; circumstances are what they are & also reminds you that life is for living & hair is for dyeing. daffodil.

i want to want something bad enough for it to matter. i want to sell my ass for cigarettes but it's too easy to quit. i want to will my will to science but it's too easy to sell my ass for cigarettes. i want to take two & call you in time but the distances always close in by then. do *not* attempt to ask me what i mean i have had a little too much too late & cannot complete

the scale in the women's bathroom is set to four pounds under zero. it tells me i weigh one hundred fifty pounds (fully dressed heavy shoes included) (the fact i felt i needed to tell you that last bit should tell you something). the scale in the men's bathroom is set to zero tells me i weigh one hundred forty pounds. i suspect this might (at least metaphorically) explain almost everything not covered in the manual.

i have what has to be done
& isn't yet
& that's all i have
what i want doesn't matter

i cannot bitch i should not whine i will not vent i will keep my fucking mouth shut for once i will i have to i really really do. no matter what. whatever. i do however have a word: unbearable.

one last small vanilla cigar one last beer before disconnect. it's tuesday right? ok. seems the last several days, they merged they blended hell they were fucking frappfrappéd dude. days like one long wild-eyed pasteurized homogenized grade a freakout. show. freaksomething, i don't know. and. now. finally. ready. ready did i say ready? i meant some other word, something involving the force of circumstances and may i say i am quite sick to death of circumstances at this point?

and if you thought under the couch was crazy, do you know what happens under a refrigerator over the course of a decade or so? i'll tell you what happens. unimaginable horror is what happens.

two hours so far full awake stalling. road rash raw through & through. i have wandered, i have walked through rooms like water, thick history family swirling around me, body temperature mostly but icy in places. is this giving it time to sink in or is this wallowing. i am breathing through the pain. i wonder what it is that is keeping me from screaming. it is nowhere near empty yet. if i take the vicodin i will feel less but not enough. i save it, it is maybe the only thing i can. now. a better person would sacrifice these house to herself hours & get on with it.

me?