Wednesday, February 19, 2014

My New Story

Does he have to be so old? What is a contrarian? Should I google euromaiden?

The dark embers of hate that are fluttering out my heart emanate from the secrete place and destroy my soul.

How can I better learn to take criticism? What is my problem? Do I have chlaymidia?

The secret banter the is overflowing crushes the car in front of me as a dry heave up a dead pigeon.

Where are the Kennedy’s now? Is my roommate sexually attracted to me? Did my banker friend secretly check my credit history?

The make out lasted for three quarters of an hour and included fifteen minutes of vigourous dry humping that left both parties panting for more.

Will the children of Louis C.K. ever speak publicly? Does my landlord have Asbergers? Why hasn’t my coworker tried to fuck me again?

The windblown curls flapped over her cigarette and extinguished the last cull of hope from a dying crop.

Do dogs just like me because I masturbate a lot? Is my blush blended? Should I stalk my two ex boyfriends today?

The fervour at the cash register left her nauseated and pale as she left Sephora, clutching a bag of powder in her claws.

Do I dress like a lesbian? Do I have Aspergers? Will Stu ever text me again?

The hardened chocolate flakes away from her elbow as she turns over her pillow.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Album Review: Scratch - Bela Lugosi - ft. Track "Prealudium"

I drove into the ethereal last night
without cause I waded far and left it all
behind me the quivering home i shunned and dove
into the midnight trove
of well combed hair and sheer crop tops and brushed gold chains and ombre mops
of granville street

and then I saw someone so ----- I could barely even dance

we stood and swayed and some girls brayed and dropped their hips on phantom dicks and elbows pumped and pretend rain
and on our faces, painted strange we feigned this toughed out look of pain and called it posing for the camera

(and then amid the eyebrow paint, in the vibrating mass a freight call of supremecay echoed out from the coated throats of the young men as they jumped and whithered, akimbo knees knock to deliver, and the bass grew louder and the lights stayed dimmer)
i shiver as again I see something I can't help but want

i hug my crotch and move around and toss my hair and pretend frown and try and fit in instead of standing still in awe as is the want of lusty desire lusty calm.
floating bereft as we chat later, i'm barely controlling the inward mater
I regain my sober composure,defeated by limitations imposed on myself of dress and then I

leave.

////// /////////
Last Night, looking like a blown out doo-hickey (That was me)

The only thing that is making this morning less cry-baby is this song, scratch the rest of the album. single repeat.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Album Review // Relaxed Fit - Naturally Paula



Somedays, when the saltiness of the crispy, roasted burmese cashews that have nestled so sweetly inside a little red dish on the coffee table is really bumming you out - I mean harsh here, you are in a fugue (slowly descending, a breathless figure caught in a body)- you probably should have made more tea sooner - your mouth is dry and full of nut bits - then you realize you should have went to the liquor store after you had finished showering this morning at 10:39. Also, the calamity you know about is one text away.

Somedays when the tears won't flow and you're left vibrating in the hot sun shaking
Everything is poo
The little voice inside my head is telling me what I should have said
All this poo's for you

And I had,
so much more to say
But then you left, left me here ya babe
Your just a throwaway

At the end of the sixteenth century mr Fitch gave my own love to me
He saw me struggling

Every ball mr wa gave to me, hollow with a clapper chime
a silky string, these dapper times

And I ran, I ran so far away
I just ran, I ran all night and day
And I ran, I couldn't get away


My favourite part of listening to this album is that after, I listen to bubble pop electric by g. Stefani. Without feeling weird.

(It's a little more melancholy than even if its true, which to be honest, is the only song I really care to listen to in the morning anymore. But that's because In The mornings I'm still butt's out optimistic on life and whatever. Touching closer than closer is real - I can't hear what the lyrics are / I don't know what people are trying to communicate to me half the time - a lot of the words are being repeated / life is just a big swirly loop of repeated patterns and behaviors and life cycles and stardust becoming you, some unique being that isn't actually unique if you take into account alternate parallel universes, where chances are, you exist there already, atom for atom YOU. )

You definitely want to listen to change the subject when you're drunk - Blonde when you're sober.

Never make out to any part of this album, don't ruin this shit.

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Fucks Taken

Blocks between the work places of the largest cock and the smallest cock I've ever seen irl - 1.5

Number of people whose mouths I've bled on that are now sleeping on my couch - 1

Athletes I am unable/willing to identify - every athlete

Texts I am too hungover to read - 19

Missed calls in a half hour from a single person in the middle of the night - 23

Ringer volume - 0

Play count of Under The Earth in the past half hour - every play counts

Times Jacob told me we were meant to be together together while he had a girlfriend - a lot of the fucking times

Times I wanted to make out with a guy asking for change last night - 1

Positive value adjectives attributed to me during breakups - a lot

Crazy volume - 8

Dead things I saw on my walk yesterday - 2

Girls in the bathroom after a DMX song starts at Emily car free-for-all-dirty-crayon-breathe-strawberry-scented-faux-lesbian night at fortune - (-1)

Male sexuality - start a dialogue

Scale value of my attraction to x________, the prettiest Chinese man with the gelliest hair to size of my engorged labia 4:3 [_____________] 5m

Fucks given - 6

Friday, April 12, 2013

Bic pens for her. Giiiiiiiirl get some pens!

I suppose it started last year. My boyfriend at the time would come and stay over, 2,3 nights a week. Our love making always seemed so deep and meaningful, we often wept together during. Undulated joy is how I often described it to my therapist the following afternoons. Sometimes my lover would enter me while I was standing, slightly bent over, with his fingers. He had long tender fingers that felt like fleshy probing rods inside of my private, slippery little sand balloons.

After he died while his cheating ass was being choked out -autoerotic asphyxia-by his male lover - now in prison/accepting pen pals - I felt a huge, gaping hole where his privates, my privates/his digits/my mouth, had intersected so incessantly before all that nasty death hollabalub. 

I purchased these pens on a cynic's whim. I don't want to get into a detailed description of what I have been doing with them.....suffice it to say, ive been spending a helluva lot of money on stamps lately.