Lit blog

[DeepAsleep]

How to Provision Four Bachelors and a Crackhead:

Went shopping, yesterday. Ye Olde Sam's Club, my place of employment and the bane of my daytime existence. Elbowing old ladies in the throat for the last industrial sized container of whatever is not my idea of a good time.

...Well, maybe it is.

We purchased:

Two (2) gallons of salsa.

Thirty (30) boxes of mac and cheese.

Thirty (30) tortillas.

Twenty-five (25)lbs of rice.

Twelve (12)lbs of chicken titties.

One (1) giant bag of mixed fruit (I make soy-protein powder milkshakes, for breakfast, with ricemilk and fresh fruit. Yeah, yeah. I'm gay.)

One (1) jug of bacardi rum.

One (1) jug of Sailor Jerry spiced rum.

Ninety six (96) cans of coke.

Thirty-six (36) chicken and cheese microwaveable chimichangas.

Four (4) bags of tortilla chips.

Two hundred fifty (250) paper plates.

Two (2) pillows.

One (1) two liter bottle of mouthwash.

Four (4) sticks of deoderant (On my urging)

Two (2) turtle doves.

And a (1) partridge in a pear tree.

I bought fresh fruit and vegetables at whole foods, along with a week's supply of soy/ricemilk, but that's a rant for another day.

They hate it if you ask them whether or not they sell cigarettes, at Whole Foods, by the by. I do it every week, just to see the look on the cashier's face.

Crackhead stray's asleep, along with Athena and Carl, the ambiguously interracial duo. Athena is half hispanic, half white, and all ghetto. Carl is black as the ace of spades and listens to Yanni.

I'll never understand a guy that dresses like a mo' thug and listens to a gay magician. Carl makes me laugh, though I get uncomfortable sometimes when he pushes me into making racist jokes. It's weird, but he forces me to call him a nigger. Literally. "Call me a nigger, Ross, just do it. I don't care. Call me nigger-Jim! CALL ME NIGGER-JIM!"

Sometimes, I think I drink because the people around me are so fucking weird.

Although, I have to say that Carl proclaiming himself a master of black magic and me asking if that made him a Negromancer was sort of funny, even if I held my breath after I cracked the joke. He laughed until I thought he was going to pee, so I guess it worked out alright.

I am detailing how to fix/alleviate for the moment a friend of mine's toilet troubles, through AOL instant messenger. She's telling me about how a shit geyser once exploded and gave her poop eye. I can't stop cackling at the phrase, 'poop eye.'

It's nine thirty AM and I am getting steadily drunk on spiced Rum. I hate working overnights, but being drunk in the morning is sort of awesome. Everyone else is getting up and I'm getting tanked, chuckling and typing and mixing drinks with a liberal wrist. Miss the girl, but... different schedules, most of the time. She's off to work, I'm off to drunk and then bed. With a little luck, she'll wake me up, tonight. But I won't hold out. She never sleeps unless she's here and I know she was up all night, last night... I'd lay long odds on her crashing and burning when she gets home. S'ok. I'll be asleep and I won't mind.

Crackhead stray snores like a lumberjack and moans in her sleep..... She actually does that *SSSSSSSSSSNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE-snoresnoresnoresnore-whiiiiiiiiiiiiiistle" thing like in cartoons and I can barely believe it. I want to plug her nose with cat poop and photograph the look on her face when she wakes up. Icky SCA girls on my couch that masturbate unsubtly under the blanket while looking at me make me unhappy. I still can't believe she was watching Charmed and me typing and getting off. I manage cute by the skin of my teeth, but COME ON.

....she's eighteen, though. Hormones and poor judgement. Still......CHARMED? "OMGWTFBBQ, SHANNON DOHERTY IS ACTING LIKE A PIECE OF WOOD, I WILL NOW FINGER MYSELF!"

I want to spend thirty minutes awake, at my own home, not being weirded out by something. Can I have a half-ounce of normal, please?

Inventory, at work, is going to make me bald. I hate being primary driver for my department - All the responsibility, half the pay. If this doesn't go smooth, it's going to be my fault and I just want to fucking quit and get a job in some pseudo-bohemian coffee shop, where I can wear whatever I want to work, as long as I don't smell like my asshole and talk with people that I might have something in uncommon with. .......How trite is that? ....No. Fuck that. I want to bartend, again. That's where I've been happiest; behind a bar, not slowly cooking in front of it. Well. Working at the porn store was fun, too, but getting people hammered enough to give me money is way more fun.

Hope and self-realization spring magically from my fingers. I will seek a bartending job.

...And if she ever rubs one out while staring at me and panting again, I'm going to kick her until her uterus rolls down her pantleg.

~Ross
"Can it be over, now, please?"

 

[Maria2394]

D A

YOUhave missed your calling!! Are there any comedy houses near you? YOU crack me up to the point of being delusional. Negromancer, ah fuck you ( In teh most wonderful of ways) funny man!! give me more. Its a wonder some rich old lady hasnt grabbed you up and married you just for the comic relief.

Thank you for sharing your life , its a breath of fresh air, well, in some ways <giggle>

 

[DeepAsleep]

D A

YOUhave missed your calling!! Are there any comedy houses near you? YOU crack me up to the point of being delusional. Negromancer, ah fuck you ( In teh most wonderful of ways) funny man!! give me more. Its a wonder some rich old lady hasnt grabbed you up and married you just for the comic relief.

Thank you for sharing your life , its a breath of fresh air, well, in some ways <giggle>

You know, there was this 31 year old that took me to the bar nightly and then took me home to do what younger men do with older women, in repayment for a night of free drinks, once.

But she turned out to be fucking psychotic, so...

~R

 

[Angeline]

My morning

I just spent two hours teaching a grammar review to high school students. It was exhilarating and exhausting. I think I'm really weird because I realized as I was doing it how totally fascinated I am by grammatical minutae.

I didn't get to diagram sentences though. I don't think they teach that anymore and it's a shame because I remember exactly where all the little lines go to show indirect objects and prepositional phrases and such. No one cares anymore though, especially not Mrs. Forsch who taught me and has probably been dead for 20 years.

I was brutal, too, but by the end of the first hour they could all find the subject of the sentence even when it was buried somewhere after the verb. And they understand what conditional tenses are and how to put them in the right sequence, too.

And I don't care if they hate me for it. I want to be remembered as the kind of teacher who may have been tough, but really made you learn something...like Mrs. Forsch.

 

[Maria2394]

I just spent two hours teaching a grammar review to high school students. It was exhilarating and exhausting. I think I'm really weird because I realized as I was doing it how totally fascinated I am by grammatical minutae.

I didn't get to diagram sentences though. I don't think they teach that anymore and it's a shame because I remember exactly where all the little lines go to show indirect objects and prepositional phrases and such. No one cares anymore though, especially not Mrs. Forsch who taught me and has probably been dead for 20 years.

I was brutal, too, but by the end of the first hour they could all find the subject of the sentence even when it was buried somewhere after the verb. And they understand what conditional tenses are and how to put them in the right sequence, too.

And I don't care if they hate me for it. I want to be remembered as the kind of teacher who may have been tough, but really made you learn something...like Mrs. Forsch.

I loved diagramming sentences when I was in school. I was good at it. but in the 10th grade, I had the same teacher I had the year before, Dr Maddox. He was the instructor of the newly formed "gifted" program and the students he got were his pupils until they graduated. well, in 10th grade, he started us off with diagramming, again and I asked him, why are we doing this yet again? and he said, well, its district assigned curriculum and I have to teach it again, and we will have it NEXT year too. ( I just wanted to learn something NEW and thats why I eventually quit high school, I was so bored it hurt to go everyday)

I was sort of outspoken then, I told him well, if they are gonna treat us like kindergarteners, we should act that way, he agreed and brought construction paper and crayons for us to share the next day. We all drew stick pix of Nathanial Hawthornes House of Seven Gables and he put them on the wall. The principal, Jerry Fulmer, happened to come by to check on his flock of gifted lil sheep and saw the "art" and told dr Maddox to removed them but Dr Maddox refused and was reprimanded. I admired that man, still do. I have all the essays I wrote when I was in his class, and one of them was how we wanted to be disposed f after death, I wrote that I wanted to be cremated and smoked in a bag of mary jane, He gave me a B+

I had him for homeroom too. and he would put some kind of whiskey in his coffee, and his face was always a bright flushed red. He was a good guy. Thanks for bringing back memories of my own with your diagram ref, sis. I kinda imagined you would like that sorta thing

xoxoxo

 

[Angeline]

I loved diagramming sentences when I was in school. I was good at it. but in the 10th grade, I had the same teacher I had the year before, Dr Maddox. He was the instructor of the newly formed "gifted" program and the students he got were his pupils until they graduated. well, in 10th grade, he started us off with diagramming, again and I asked him, why are we doing this yet again? and he said, well, its district assigned curriculum and I have to teach it again, and we will have it NEXT year too. ( I just wanted to learn something NEW and thats why I eventually quit high school, I was so bored it hurt to go everyday)

I was sort of outspoken then, I told him well, if they are gonna treat us like kindergarteners, we should act that way, he agreed and brought construction paper and crayons for us to share the next day. We all drew stick pix of Nathanial Hawthornes House of Seven Gables and he put them on the wall. The principal, Jerry Fulmer, happened to come by to check on his flock of gifted lil sheep and saw the "art" and told dr Maddox to removed them but Dr Maddox refused and was reprimanded. I admired that man, still do. I have all the essays I wrote when I was in his class, and one of them was how we wanted to be disposed f after death, I wrote that I wanted to be cremated and smoked in a bag of mary jane, He gave me a B+

I had him for homeroom too. and he would put some kind of whiskey in his coffee, and his face was always a bright flushed red. He was a good guy. Thanks for bringing back memories of my own with your diagram ref, sis. I kinda imagined you would like that sorta thing

xoxoxo

I love crossword puzzles, too--must explain my form poetry fixation.

You reminded me of the time our local friendly police officers came to our high school to explain the horrors of drugs to us. They actually passed around a little bag of pot so we could all see what it looked and smelled like (can you tell this was a really long time ago, lol--they'd NEVER do that now). Anyway, after the whole class had looked at it and passed it around, they got two bags back. True story.

And yes they were very, very pissed. An no, no one ratted.

Ah for the good old days.

xxxooo

 

[Guest]

Maybe it's my mediocre British High School education but I had to google "sentence diagramming". It's interesting because I love cryptic X-word puzzles too but have never, knowingly diagrammed.

For my blog entry - I'm looking out at the trees being beaten by high winds again. We used to live surrounded by huge white pines that bent and creaked in the wind in the most alarming way. Here there are no trees close by to threaten out home by collapsing exhausted, roots obscenely exposed.

I can see a tiny boat getting chucked about in the bay. What on earth is he doing out there when the ferries aren't venturing out? Water is on my mind these days what with the Red Sea ferry disaster and the storms here. I'm told, of all the ways to die, drowning is the least unpleasant but it holds horror for me.

 

[Angeline]

Maybe it's my mediocre British High School education but I had to google "sentence diagramming". It's interesting because I love cryptic X-word puzzles too but have never, knowingly diagrammed.

For my blog entry - I'm looking out at the trees being beaten by high winds again. We used to live surrounded by huge white pines that bent and creaked in the wind in the most alarming way. Here there are no trees close by to threaten out home by collapsing exhausted, roots obscenely exposed.

I can see a tiny boat getting chucked about in the bay. What on earth is he doing out there when the ferries aren't venturing out? Water is on my mind these days what with the Red Sea ferry disaster and the storms here. I'm told, of all the ways to die, drowning is the least unpleasant but it holds horror for me.

When I was in high school the teachers were absolutely obsessive about sentence diagramming. I still can't figure out what it actually has to do with writing, but it was fun.

I'm waiting to read your next bird feeder poem.

The only thing the birdy up here ate today is celery with peanut butter.

 

[Guest]

When I was in high school the teachers were absolutely obsessive about sentence diagramming. I still can't figure out what it actually has to do with writing, but it was fun.

I'm waiting to read your next bird feeder poem.

The only thing the birdy up here ate today is celery with peanut butter.

Celery and peanut butter - how to keep the bird happy.

On One of the sites I googled up was clustering . I wonder if it could be morphed into a poetry challenge.

I must appear to bird-fixated. My next poem should have the word scrotum in I think.

 

[Man Ray]

Yesterday was a bad, bad day! Imagine you are sitting in a pub full of Welshman (Which I know to most women here sounds like sticky thighed heaven! ) who have just seen their Grand Slam winning rugby team of last year steam-rollered flat by an English rugby team made up of neanderthals and ogres and every Welshman in that pub is manfully holding back the tears as they gulp down their pints of Brains*!

* Not those `brains` this `Brains`! http://www.sabrain.com/checkdetails.asp

I expect you ladies want to hug the nearest Welshman in sympathy, offering yourself as a token of commiseration to assuage his tragic loss?

Handsome Welshmen such as these?

http://www.wru.co.uk/514_831.php

http://www.wru.co.uk/514_2480.php

http://www.wru.co.uk/514_2491.php

http://www.wru.co.uk/514_2483.php

http://www.wru.co.uk/514_802.php

Volunteers needed now to comfort a nation! Ability to drink copious amounts of said Brains, pronounce Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch after drinking far too much Brains and sing `Men of Harlech` whilst being being rogered silly in the town of Llareggub an essential requisite...

 

[DeepAsleep]

Girl is over, happily passed out after I woke her up when I got off work.

HEH. HEH. HEH. My dad always says, "go with what you're good at" and making that girl scream is high on my list of things I'm good at. She's... less experienced and I'm...

Well. Let's be honest. I'm a goddamned whore. It's not so difficult to make her think that I'm Don Juan. She looks so pretty, with her mouth drawn back and her chin tucked to her chest right above her breasts, hair falling haphazard around her face... A guy could fall in love, 'r something romantically barf-like. Jack's a sweet girl. She does everything sweetly. Gawd, she even makes love sweetly, and I'm not one for the sweet types, but her way... her smell, the movements of every part of her, it screams, "I WILL BAKE YOU APPLE PIES AND TAKE A SHOT OF CUM ON THE FACE!" and I'm so crass. SO CRASS, but she gets to me, like no one else. Look past the surface nasty, and you'll see what I mean.

I cook for her in the mornings, We've got this standing joke about chicken and rice - I always make her chicken and rice, wrapped in tortillas, when she's drunk. We go to bed smelling like a garlic factory, rice between our teeth and stupid smirks on our faces and we make love like we never have to get out of bed, again and...

Well. I fuckin' love it.

Jack is supportive, sweet, sexy (OH GOD, SHE IS SO FUCKING HOT)

intelligent and completely infatuated with my ridiculous ass.

So, why am I holding back? Because I'm a moron and I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Living in fear of the boot from heaven is going to make me a bitter, bitter man.

Roommate's snoring on the couch like it's going out of style. Between him and the crackhead stray, it's a regular fucking symphony of nasal noise, around here. At least they're not awake and making me uncomfortable.

My roommates are, to a man, star wars/hobbiton geeks and I love them for being unrepentant about it. But there's a weird SCA vibe that runs through the people who visit my house that says, "We band together by virtue of being socially awkward and horny. Therefore, we will touch each other. Profusely. Graphically. Right in front of you. Look! I'm blowing your buddy!" and we've had a couple parties that made me pack up my bags and saunter downstairs into my room. Nine girls with faces only mack trucks could love pulling a circle-dyke in your living room might appeal to... someone, but seeing a bunch of dudes jerking off while watching a ring of girls locked face to pussy....

Well. Call me uptight, but I got a little weirded out.

...this from a guy who'll happily eat the ass. Not every day, mind you - not after a long day of, say 'farming dung on the equator in a wetsuit'......but... You know. There shouldn't be shame in sex, just in my living room.

I pine for a normal life. But.. would I have anything to write about. I wish I was making this stuff up, but...

So, there's three girls that frequent my house under the auspices of being friends of my roommates. There's Mandy, Jami and Kelly.

Mandy is 25 and has three children by three different men. She has enormous breasts and looks... well. She looks like this:

Top off the idea you're building of her in your head with compulsive lying, an attention-whore streak wider than the Nile and a penchant for saying things that make you want to choke her with chicken bones and you'll have some idea what I deal with weekly.

Picture her naked in your living room with a bunch of other goofy girls and You'll have some idea what I come home to, occasionally.

People wonder why I drink so much. I should stop being so fucking quiet and polite, but... I'm not and...

They just keep coming over and fucking out in my living room.

It's bizarre and I feel like the only person in the world who thinks it's a little off the wall to get off work at six AM and find nude girls sleeping where they've fallen when he gets home.

I'm sure they're all nice people, but I wish they'd fuck each other somewhere else.

.......This rant is going nowhere good. I'll switch topics.

Work is awful. I want it to be wednesday morning, so that I can be done with the whole mess for another two days. Inventory is killing me. My underlings (I'm sort of a supervisor) keep calling in and I keep having to cover their asses, trying to squeeze the work of three people into the time of one and it's wearing my ass thin. Work all night, come home to fuckery, and then I can't sleep, so I go to work half dead and bust my ass for people that call in and then I come home to fucking-weird and I can't sleep......You see where this is going. I'm going to use one of the samurai swords that the crackhead stray sleeps with (NOT KIDDING. SHE SLEEPS WITH THEM LIKE THEY WERE STUFFED ANIMALS. 440 STAINLESS STEEL STUFFED ANIMALS, WITH SHARP EDGES AND BAD ENAMEL SHEATHES. IT BOTHERS ME) and just scream and threaten everyone until they put their shirts back on and go the fuck home. And in that quiet, dead time, when the crackhead is sleeping and everyone else is hiding away from the look of death on my face and the quivering muscles in my arms, from gripping the hilt of a cheap samurai sword......In that dead calm,

I will fucking get a decent night's rest and not have to worry about any weird ass fucking people intruding on my world.

...

But not this morning.

~Ross
"Did you ever want to set someone's head on fire, just to see what it looked like? Did you ever stand in the street and think to yourself, I could make that nun go blind just by giving her a kiss? Did you ever lay out plans for stitiching babies and stray cats into a Perfect New Human? Did you ever stand naked surrounded by people who want your gleaming sperm, squirting frankincense, soma and testostorone from every pore? If so, then you're the bastard who stole my drugs Friday night. And I'll find you. Oh, yes."
~Warren Ellis, 'Transmetropolitan'

 

[BooMerengue]

I loved diagramming sentences when I was in school. I was good at it. but in the 10th grade, I had the same teacher I had the year before, Dr Maddox. He was the instructor of the newly formed "gifted" program and the students he got were his pupils until they graduated. well, in 10th grade, he started us off with diagramming, again and I asked him, why are we doing this yet again? and he said, well, its district assigned curriculum and I have to teach it again, and we will have it NEXT year too. ( I just wanted to learn something NEW and thats why I eventually quit high school, I was so bored it hurt to go everyday)

I was sort of outspoken then, I told him well, if they are gonna treat us like kindergarteners, we should act that way, he agreed and brought construction paper and crayons for us to share the next day. We all drew stick pix of Nathanial Hawthornes House of Seven Gables and he put them on the wall. The principal, Jerry Fulmer, happened to come by to check on his flock of gifted lil sheep and saw the "art" and told dr Maddox to removed them but Dr Maddox refused and was reprimanded. I admired that man, still do. I have all the essays I wrote when I was in his class, and one of them was how we wanted to be disposed f after death, I wrote that I wanted to be cremated and smoked in a bag of mary jane, He gave me a B+

I had him for homeroom too. and he would put some kind of whiskey in his coffee, and his face was always a bright flushed red. He was a good guy. Thanks for bringing back memories of my own with your diagram ref, sis. I kinda imagined you would like that sorta thing

xoxoxo

I've never blogged before, and wasn't going to start til I read this. Now I know at least a part of my day will be spent rearranging my thoughts on Maria to come up with a new and very cooler Maria in my head. Last night was my last celebration of the 2 deaths I had to live through so far this year. Theres another funeral kinda thingy in CT in March, but I have drawn a line in the sand. The family will have to do it without me. I'm being very polite and respectful, but the bottom line is the 2 brothers who should have died, didn't;and I don't much care about the 2 who are still here. (Thats the first time I've voiced this out loud. Hmmm.) I may even try to write a poem today. That damn Eve told me a long time ago in a thread far away that there was a poem in me trying to get out, and she's right. Damn her.

 

[Maria2394]

I've never blogged before, and wasn't going to start til I read this. Now I know at least a part of my day will be spent rearranging my thoughts on Maria to come up with a new and very cooler Maria in my head. Last night was my last celebration of the 2 deaths I had to live through so far this year. Theres another funeral kinda thingy in CT in March, but I have drawn a line in the sand. The family will have to do it without me. I'm being very polite and respectful, but the bottom line is the 2 brothers who should have died, didn't;and I don't much care about the 2 who are still here. (Thats the first time I've voiced this out loud. Hmmm.) I may even try to write a poem today. That damn Eve told me a long time ago in a thread far away that there was a poem in me trying to get out, and she's right. Damn her.

Oh, Precious Boo, great big hugs to you.

I went to my granny's funeral back in January and didnt tell anyone but Fly because I just didnt and i dont know why, if that makes sense. I hadnt seen her in a very long time and I feel so guilty because she only lived 2 hours from me. I didnt want to see her in that shape and that is selfish of me, I know.

She was bipolar and her meds had caused a parkinsons type condition and my sister said she could barely even talk anymore. I went to her viewing, there was a graveside service afterwards.

wanna hear something very weird? I looked at her, sometimes people say of the deaceased, oh, "didnt he/she just look wonderful? And I usually thing, Fuck no, they didnt!! my parents both looked just awful, grimaces on their faces, still, makeup they would never have worn, and posed like something from a bad horror movie..

But my Granny looked so peaceful, thin, but just like she was sleeping, and ever such a slight smile on her face, the mortician did a wonderful job. I had this incredible, overwhelming urge to bend down abd hug her, so I did. I put my arms around her tiny lifeless body and hugged her and kissed her square on the cheek... and cried al the way to the cemetary. She was 87

A week later, my aunt sent me a copy of the obit on the local paper along with a letter my granny had started to me, it had no date on it, but said;

My dear Julie, if you were here, I would give you the biggest hug, just hug you so hard, I miss you.

and the letter stopped there. She could barely write...so shaky

I think she was in that room when I hugged her. I m so glad I did. Now I feel like going into my garden and just bawling my eyes out again, but IM so glad I hugged her one last time cause if I hadnt, after I felt that urge, then I had gotten that letter, I would have killed myself, for sure. Some days its not such a bad idea anyway and I seem to think about that a lot more lately than i usually do.

hubby-the-drunk is still out of town and i got a letter in the mail the other day telling me that my home and land is now owned by citifinancial and I need to vacate or risk being evicted. If anyone here who knows about my husband can imagine why I wish someone would drop a 10 inch pipe on his head at work, well, wonder no more. He told me everythig was "fine" with the house and thats what Im gonna tell him when I leave his sorry ass.

sorry for venting, but thats what a blog is for

 

[Tathagata]

"I WILL BAKE YOU APPLE PIES AND TAKE A SHOT OF CUM ON THE FACE!"


Jack is supportive, sweet, sexy (OH GOD, SHE IS SO FUCKING HOT)

intelligent and completely infatuated with my ridiculous ass.

So, why am I holding back? Because I'm a moron and I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Living in fear of the boot from heaven is going to make me a bitter, bitter man.

I pine for a normal life. But.. would I have anything to write about. I wish I was making this stuff up, but...

I was always looking for one that said i'll fuck you with an apple pie
perhaps that's a little too eclectic
ah well
had I found her I'd have nothing to write about either, except caramelized sugar burns on my man thing.

It's funny what triggers nostalgia as you get older
a train whistle, penny candy, dyke daisy chains in your apartment..

I remember my roommate Jerry.
Jerry weighed about 300 pounds so I called him Jerryama
He was under the impression that by drinking vodka and grapefruit juice he would lose weight.
The problem is that after about 4 or them he'd start imagining his life of drinking with various physical limitations
ex: " How would I drink if I had no hands?"
then he'd attempt to lift the glass with just his wrists and end up spilling it all over him self.

His girlfriend was a dyke
Yes, I know the implications of that statement, he, apparently didn't.
and ended up marrying her
that lasted about 3 years

we had a halloween party once and his wife invited some friend of hers who was from Iowa, or Nebraska or someplace where they swear by " Bag Balm"
I had a long wooden sword and a bald headed wig, dave had a red flowerpot on his head and a blue jumpsuit ( "what the fuck are you?" " I'm DEVO")
at some point in the evening this girl wandered into the kitchen where Devo, myself, and jerryama were doing shots of Jagermeister and saying " Nastrovya" every time like they did in the " Deer Hunter"

" So what do you guys do for fun around here?" she asked sipping her girly girl milk fed daiquiri thingy.
" We rape sheep" I said and belched
she left soon afterward

I ended up dancing with some guys girlfriend who was drunk and wanted to show everyone her ass.
The guy was complaining to Devo
" He's dancing with my girl,,,what the fuck?"
Devo responded in his calm dry voice
" He's got a Wooden Sword"
" yeah but...'
" He's GOT a fuckin Wooden SWORD"
he waited till the dance was over, grabbed her and screwed.

we had to leave notes for each other on occasion and had anyone ever broken into the place and found one i'm betting they'd have left the stereo and just run:

Jerryama,
The Fabulous Mr Charido and I will be at Tony's bar and grill after work.
stop by after your sumo match
or better yet
Just send your wallet
Your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberries
love and kisses
your strapping young son
Jethro

Don't even get me started on the music...

When I finally saw the movie " Hi Fidelity" I swore someone had been at the apartment and recorded our music conversations
we did the " top 10" thing and had heated debates about choices
I seem to remember most of them ended with
" I really fuckin hate you you fat bastard"
or
" We're going outside and wrestle and I'm going crush your chest and watch you blow blood bubbles"

Devo is dead, Jarryama moved away years ago with some latina girl half his age who spoke minimal English.

and I'm here.

can't go home again Peter Pan

 

[eagleyez]

Went out to breakfast this morn
Passed Churchouses, ivy coated University redbrick buildings,
Winshield wipers need replacing, flying blind driving by braille
Will wonders never cease-Ange had ham and mumbled Kaddish to her Grandpa,
My youngee piled on plate after plate on his well proportioned frame-
Saw nascar hats and snakeskin boots on the rotundery-
Me, I slept 11 hours last night and snarfed down coffee before hitting the
Buffet.

She smiled at me and passed the catsup, I felt her hand, at ease and the reachout. Oldest son coming over after hoops at the fieldhouse.

I marvel at the beauty, got that old time feeling again, bird takes wing, think I'll tune the twelve string slacked down drop D. Sounds like a sitar and my fingers are an extension of this peaceful river flowing thru me, Shakti and flowing silk seated on braided rugs, no pain, only shopping carts full of love.

 

[BooMerengue]

Oh, Precious Boo, great big hugs to you.

I went to my granny's funeral back in January and didnt tell anyone but Fly because I just didnt and i dont know why, if that makes sense. I hadnt seen her in a very long time and I feel so guilty because she only lived 2 hours from me. I didnt want to see her in that shape and that is selfish of me, I know.

She was bipolar and her meds had caused a parkinsons type condition and my sister said she could barely even talk anymore. I went to her viewing, there was a graveside service afterwards.

wanna hear something very weird? I looked at her, sometimes people say of the deaceased, oh, "didnt he/she just look wonderful? And I usually thing, Fuck no, they didnt!! my parents both looked just awful, grimaces on their faces, still, makeup they would never have worn, and posed like something from a bad horror movie..

But my Granny looked so peaceful, thin, but just like she was sleeping, and ever such a slight smile on her face, the mortician did a wonderful job. I had this incredible, overwhelming urge to bend down abd hug her, so I did. I put my arms around her tiny lifeless body and hugged her and kissed her square on the cheek... and cried al the way to the cemetary. She was 87

A week later, my aunt sent me a copy of the obit on the local paper along with a letter my granny had started to me, it had no date on it, but said;

My dear Julie, if you were here, I would give you the biggest hug, just hug you so hard, I miss you.

and the letter stopped there. She could barely write...so shaky

I think she was in that room when I hugged her. I m so glad I did. Now I feel like going into my garden and just bawling my eyes out again, but IM so glad I hugged her one last time cause if I hadnt, after I felt that urge, then I had gotten that letter, I would have killed myself, for sure. Some days its not such a bad idea anyway and I seem to think about that a lot more lately than i usually do.

hubby-the-drunk is still out of town and i got a letter in the mail the other day telling me that my home and land is now owned by citifinancial and I need to vacate or risk being evicted. If anyone here who knows about my husband can imagine why I wish someone would drop a 10 inch pipe on his head at work, well, wonder no more. He told me everythig was "fine" with the house and thats what Im gonna tell him when I leave his sorry ass.

sorry for venting, but thats what a blog is for

My Mom was still beautiful in her coffin; she was a lady through and through but was a passive suicide as she ran full tilt boogie into a diabetic decline (She denied to us she was a diabetic) and finally blew her kidneys all to hell; my Dad took the shorter route and so looked awful cuz he was 83 and had a really typically handsome craggy New England weathered face but the wrinkles were gone cuz he had blown the back of his head off, so he looked really weird.

I used to hope I would die a really dramatic flaming Thelma and Louise type death (my Dad was sure I would so he had extra life insurance on me! LOL) Now I just hope I get to watch my grandbabies grow up and get to know me before I leave. I think I'm going to go up above the treeline w/ a good Stephen King book and some Valiums and just watch the Northern Lights move and freeze.(the lights won't freeze- I don't think; just me.) How undignified to end a life bedridden and beholden. ugh.

I think after you leave there you should come here and we'll make a pond and a garden and grow a little something for ourselves and weave poems and stories and wear cowboy hats.

I hugged a ghost one time. I was caring for a good friend who was eaten up with breast cancer, and was just 2 weeks away from her death, and her husband, who was one of my very best friends ever, had already passed, and he came to be with her and I saw him and heard his voice and I cried cuz I missed him so much and wasn't there when he died, and he hugged me (I actually felt the hair on his arms tickle my face and smelled his Vitalis,) and said "Don't worry; there will be another time." That couple were older than my parents and had a Down Syndrome daughter who came to live with me for 13 years and passed unexpectedly at age 54 and I had to be the one who said turn off the support machines. I miss all of them so very much. I miss too many people too much. I guess thats why I've stepped out of character and let myself bleed a little here. Since 95, my Mom, Mary, the Downs sweety, my Dad, 2 brothers, 1 brother in law, 2 very special boyfriends, and my daughter is still alive but I lost her too, and a big part of me is afraid to answer the phone. But you know what? I'm not depressed. Well, not so's you'd know it. Each death is a death of a part of me, but so much new found wisdom has filled those empty places that it's as fair a trade as I can see.

Bring your frogs when you come.

 

[eagleyez]

My mom died of Scleraderma, translated in latin as "tight skin." She had all the tell-tale signs, skin like leather and at the end, the inability to smile.

As she passed, all the wrinkling disappeared and she had a smile on her face, and her skin remarkably lost all the wrinkling.

My aunt said "she saw something she liked."

Mystic and mysterious-the luminous nature of accident. The vision has remained with me for years, and I fear not, though, Boo, I haven't had the shere numerical incidence of loss.

Your attitude and resilience is truly inspiring.

with love and respect.

*toots*

 

[Tathagata]

Ram Dass tells a story of his mother dying of cancer.
she was a strong opinionated new Englander and he watched her worn away by the pain.
she fought it and fought it
she said " I just don't understand this pain"
as if having lived a good life she didn't understand why she was suffering like this.
he tells of sitting in the hospital room and the relatives filing in saying how well she looked and how she was going to get better, and then going out in the hall and weeping and muttering how she was going..
At one point she said to him " I think I'm dying"
and he said
" I think so too"
She asked " what do you think happens when you die?"
and he said " Well i think it's like your a building and you just leave the building and there's just no one there anymore"

near the end he said she gave her self up to death and her whole appearance changed
he called it cruel grace
only god could have brought her to this moment of peace and acceptance

at the point of death she asked him to help her sit up
he did
her head lolled and he held her and braced her head with his head

she took three breaths and died.

He said that when Tibetan lamas realize their time is near they go and meditate
when death comes the sit up take 3 breaths and die.

and he said " I looked at her and wondered Who was in there all this time?"

 

[Guest]

I found the postsecret site that DeepAsleep has a link to in his last blog entry a few weeks ago and it both fascinates and repells me. Some of it is poetry, some of it funny, some sad but all of it is art. One or two - like the baby sitter who confesses to collecting clips of her charges hair - are disturbing.

That such a simple idea could produce so many interesting responses is encouraging. Be warned, if you visit you'll either be there for a while or you'll be compelled to visit again. There's something Irresistible about sharing secrets.

I'm resisting this morning because I absolutely have to write, but I know it's there, waiting.

 

[wildsweetone]

3 - 6/02/06

i worked with a young child a while ago. he was five when he started school and started work with me. i would see to his needs, change his nappy, help make sure he ate enough and ate properly, taught him how to recognise and write his own name and other such things, spent time with him doing his physio therapy each day and kept an eye on him in the playground.

his way of communication was not to use his voice, but rather, to use his hands. he'd grab my skirt to catch my attention (not that my attention ever wandered far from him *smile*) or some days, when frustration tore his little mind to pieces, he'd lash out at me arms flaying determined to scratch or hit me in any place he could reach. i knew though, knew it was his way of being frustrated with me because i hadn't learnt to understand him totally.

each day was a little better. we worked out a system of sign language and picture cards that helped when signing failed our skills and he managed to let me know what he wanted when he wanted it.

i taught him, the whole life skills and curriculum thing, as his teacher had no idea where to start with him. without me realising, he sneaked in under my skin and made each day brighter with his always grinning face and rascally antics that he always wanted me to join in on.

one monday morning, the eighth week after he arrived, i received a phone call. he had passed away during the night. nobody could relate it directly to his cerebral palsy or to SIDS or anything really. he'd just falled asleep and died.

i went to see his family, his mum. she was his solid mast on a sea that churned without pause. she was drunk. she waved me toward his room and told me to go and see him. i really didn't want to. i wanted to just run and run and run and never stop running. but i walked in there and saw him laying on his bed in a box that was barely big enough for his small body. he lay there looking serene and scampish all at the same time. i half expected it all to be a joke and to see him grin suddenly at me from the satin pillow. but he didn't.

he lay still. with a little comb in one pocket and some chewing gum in the other pocket. his mum came in and told me to put a star stamp on his hand, as i had every day when he was at school. i did and that red star looked horrid against his skin. she urged me to kiss him, knowing that i wanted to but couldn't quite bring myself to do it. she pushed me a little and a moment later my warm lips brushed his cold, firm cheek.

she left me then and i'm not sure how long i sat there with him, talking quietly, letting him know he would be missed in the classroom and that i'd miss him more than i could say. somehow or other tears streamed down my cheeks and i wiped them away furious at letting him see my broken heart.

and his death taught me to take time to step back and look at accomplishments and to look at them often. sometimes i forget. but he is merely a thought away.

you see, he was special.

 

[DeepAsleep]

this is turning into a regular thing...

Jack and I rock the house, and I like it.

Work makes me want to tear out my hair at the... Well. Deeper than the roots. Maybe like... the collarbone. YES. I WILL TEAR MY HAIR OUT FROM THE CLAVICLE.

I need a drink.

Ew. Mike's Hard anything makes my will flaccid. And all this candy-beer shit gives me heartburn. So, I will make thai soup/noodle bowls and add hot sauce to them.

I swear to God, I'm intelligent. Or, maybe not.

No. Today, I am going to be a moron.

Woke up early last night and decided that it was time to start fucking with the stray. She came out of her prime time masturbatory coma in time to catch me in the kitchen, sawing at thawed chicken breasts with one of her samurai swords.

Apparently, saying, "But all the knives were dirty" isn't a plausible enough explanation, no matter how you point to the knives in the sink (which I dirtied on purpose) or look as innocent as you can.

Note to self. I need a picture of me doing that, for posterity.

I already have a picture of me holding a bomber of Beck's and a sword, lounging on the couch like Conan, the working class alcoholic. I bitch about it, but I think it's funny to take pictures while holding swords.

....and I know so many weirdos that own them.

It strikes me that it's been over a year since I had a job that I didn't come home from dirty, cut, tired and pissed off. My manager has been asstastic, lately.

Store manager, at weekly meeting: "All the managers and team leaders will be doing pre-counts, overnights, this week. That means you associates (OMGLOLBBQ, I'M AN assOCIATEhole! Shakespeare sez, "WTFUCKETH?!!!!111one!!111!11!!!!") will only be stocking.

Two days later, my team leader and section manager: "We're going to have you guys go ahead and precount your department." Subtext: "Ross, I'm going to make sure you get fucked in the ass every night, sans lube, add sandpaper. And then I'm going to bitch when you can't get all the driving, stocking, breaking down of mixed pallets of shit, counting and cleanup done in your allotted eight hours. I will threaten you with write-ups, and I will make sudden and unreasonable demands on your time, such as moving a freezer bunker from the place where THERE ARE HOLES DRILLED INTO THE FLOOR SO THAT IT CAN SIT THERE LEVELLY to a place where it does not rest level with the floor, rocks back and forth, looks like shit, is miles away from where you're stocking items...And then the next day I'll have you go ahead and put it back because I think it's an asinine place to put a freezer bunker. Which I will bitch at you for."

Did you know that if you go over 40 hours in a week, at SAM's Club, you get written up? Thirty six seconds (Because they round up to the next minute, at payment) can get you a write up.

I AM ALREADY TWO HOURS OVER TIME BECAUSE OF THESE SHITSACKS... and I've got an eleven hour day of counting, sorting, stocking and stacking coming up on teusday. Which whill put me FIVE hours over... AND MY GODDAM WORK WEEK IS FUCKING OVER. So, I'm going to get bitched at for that, too.

My immediate manager is going to get loaded into that fucking freezer bunker and shrink-wrapped into place. And then I am going to walk out and never return.

I came within a biscuit of quitting my job, tonight. He actually got within six inches of my face to yell at me, tonight and my jaw was so clenched I thought I was going to snap teeth in half. I put my forehead into the nose of the last person who was that hostilely close to me.

Your little boy is growing up so fast!

But, now I have instant thai to which I have added enough hotsauce to strip wax from wooden floors, or scrub stains from concrete. While eating food that tastes like pain has it's downsides, at least I'm slightly less concerned with work and more immediately concerned with extinguishing my mouth. Yay, punching yourself in the face to forget about your stubbed toe!

Set up a double date for Thursday, Me'n Jack and my buddy Frankie and his girlfriend, Kelly. Gonna be weird, doing the couples couble thingy. I'm tempted to dress down (read, "Roll a bum") for the occasion, but that'd just be wrong, on our landmark 'first time out at dinner' .......uh.. thing.

I had a brain. Where'd it go?

I'm so tired.

This second noodle bowl smells like rotten pig carcasses. Which leads me to believe it's more authentically Thai, for instant... y'know? If my weird middle Asian food doesn't smell vaguely like catfood... I want to know what's wrong with it.

Caught the stray crackhead eating one of my noodle bowls, the other day. She was using chopsticks. I got a fork out of the kitchen and walked up to her, just holding it out until she took it, juggling it and the chopsticks and looking confused. Then I took the noodle bowl out of her hand and went back into the kitchen. I pay good pocket change for these bastards, and eating other people's food is fucking rude. (He says, eyes fixed longingly on the sixer of fat tire just sitting on the floor, next to the couch.... It looks so lonely.)

Oh, my sweet shitting Jesus, I've just gotten thai soup in my nose.

Status of sinus cavity: X-TREME Scorched Earth Decimation.

I'm going to go run my nose under the faucet.

~R
Today is the worst.

 

[Sabina_Tolchovsky]

Ross this is what you write like machismo

but you live like a weenie. Quit your fucking shit job. Kick the fucking stray out the door, in my house if you don't earn your keep (even the cat) you get the fuck out and go. My dogs all hunt as their job, my cat kills anything that moves...I only feed her once a week so she is hungry, incidentally she is more friendly that way too.
Now, we will talk about the SCA freaks...I had a run in with those fruit loops a couple years ago the best way to get rid of them is to start being an ass. Learn to debate verbally the same way you write and you will make short work of them. Trust me, you will want to get rid of them soon...I believe their motto is Peace, Love and the same strain of herpes virus. If you can't get rid of them, run...do it now; pack Jack and some smokes a good bottle of scotch and run! It does not matter where you go...you were looking for a job when you found that one remember there will be more. Don't fall victim to the corporate monster man...you are not Bruce Cambell in Army of Darkness, although the chain saw hand may come in handy dealing with the SCA freaks.
Trust me man, you will feel much better later on.

 

[Sabina_Tolchovsky]

Alright, I didn't go snowboarding as planned this weekend. I installed a new hardwood floor in a bedroom instead....I figured I may as well since I am going on vacation to the mountain this week. The sun is shining very brightly this morning right off my computer screen, I guess I should buy blinds at some point. Before my neighbors with small children complain.
I swam my dogs yesterday, there is nothing like seeing five labradors jump in the pond one after the other. The ducks didn't like it too much. Lucky for them duck season is over.
I went to a good friends 40th birthday and brought him a decent bottle of scotch. He was given an ugly girl for his birthday as well, at forty I don't think he is too picky any longer. All though he did look directly at me when his friends asked if he had gotten his spankings yet. I just smiled...dream on buddy.
Well, that is it for me this morning. The sun is too bright to ignore

 

[wildsweetone]

4 - 7/2/06

it's beautiful this morning. no sign of the turmoil of the weekend. no sign of the exploding clouds that mapped the sky yesterday. and no chance of the twister in the Bays being re-created today. it's simply beautiful. there is not one cloud in the sky and That Cat is stretched out in the cool, under the sunlight on the deck. he looks like he's going to stay there at least until somebody wakes him. i might join him later. except, if he starts playing with the ghekos and cicadas, he's on his own.

 

[Maria2394]

hubby and his brother came back from the Floroida job today by way of Georgetwon which is way out of the way Besides that, he said the job at the chemical plant was too dangerous to work and I have been on jobs like that, where we just left.

He checked on a job while there and will start Friday. I will be living pretty close to Sandspike Funny how things work out, a friend just pm'ed me and told me that she felt things moving. She was right. I have lived in the Low Country SC before and its a most beautiful swampy place. IN fact, I lived between 2 cemetaries, a black one and a white one, and it was called Big Dan Swamp. Man, you should have seen the rattle snakes that crawled up out if there, it was the stuff of nightmares, but so damned beautiful. I just love the gators and birds and the saltwater tidal ponds at the state park, That is heaven on earth to me, so it looks like things are gonan be okay for now.

I made a huge pot of chili for dinner. Its sleeting right now, and 2 days ago it was 75 degrees and I was in shorts and a tank top. The weather is weird. They say were gonna get a light dusting of snow tonight, I hope not, but it is so pretty when it piles up about an inch high on the wrought iron gate leading into the garden. oh yeah, the daffodils are coming up, they are about 3 inch high green sprouts right now. when they bloom, i will take a pic of them.