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Thursday, April 28, 2005
Happy birthday Shane.. wherever you are. It's a night as pretty as you were and I hope it finds you well. | Sunday, April 24, 2005 I have joined another blog. As of May 7, 2005, the one year anniversary of Lake Allison's creation, it will be drained for good. I feel that my entries tend to be overly vague and not particularly interesting, because I am using my real name and writing, primarily for an audience of people I know in real life. If you'd wish to continue reading my bloggage, ask and I will tell you where it can now be found. Or try to figure it out on your own..it's not too hard. Don't worry, I'll post more here before then. | Saturday, April 23, 2005
| Friday, April 22, 2005 Appetizer Name something that helps you fall asleep. Spooning. There, I said it. I'm not supposed to like it. It's for mushy married couples. And I'm a kinky ho-bag. I just want to get roughed-up and fucked, right? Uh..not exactly. Nothing ensures me blissful hours of nightmare-free sleep more than someone strong and warm behind me, breathing down my neck, protecting me from evil sleep goblins. Soup Who brings out the best in you? I think Claire does. I want to be like her when I grow up. She has shown me that yes, it is possible to be kind and eccentric and creative and very responsible, all at the same time. She is accepting of my quirks. I can be as hyper or as sad as I want around her without fear she'll judge me. She encourages my creative efforts and produces awesome writing of her own and can truly open herself to divine inspiration. You know what I mean if you've seen her on stage. Salad What do you like to do on a rainy day? This is probably not safe, but I like to drive in the rain. I love watching rain drops stream down glass, how they trickle together and combine to make larger drops. I like the squeak of the wipers, the spray from the tires of the car in front of me. I like to put on slow, emotional music and sip warm coffee while I am driving. Gray can feel so lovely.. Main Course Complete this sentence: In our home, we never have enough... Food. Ughh! All we have there is bread, coffee and cheap jug wine. The latter I don't indulge in. To compensate for our lack of grocery money, my sisters and I have perfected the orphanly gleam in our eyes. People can't stand to see something pretty starve and thus, buy us dinner. Dessert Which shoe do you put on first? The left one, because the foot is smaller and slides into my shoe easier. Questions from Friday's Feast | Thursday, April 21, 2005
Just a heads-up.. in case you can't tell from the | Tuesday, April 19, 2005 I am so proud of what we were no pain remains, no feeling eternity awaits |
I had a dream I was a prostitute in LA. The pimp took me and the other ho's shopping at this little boutique full of sparkly, fancy stuff. We were fuckin excited! Started laughing and madly clawing the dresses and shoes with our acrylic-nailed hands. We stopped when the pimp said, "Wait a minute. Y'all get to pick 3 things each. Hear me? 3 things." We resumed our clucking and clawing. The first thing I went for was the underwear. Prostitutes go through underwear fast. John's wanna keep them, or sometimes I leave them there by mistake, or sometimes they just get so nasty I have to throw them away. So I picked this blue vinyl pair, thinking vinyl cleans up easy. And I could wear them like shorts, slip them over regular panties. Then right next to the underwear, I found this blue sequin dress that matched the vinyl undies. Another one of the ho's (somebody I work with in real life) called me over to the shoes and pointed out a pair of blue, thigh-high boots. "Here, these'll go with your dress." She got a pair like them in black. One by one, we began to bring our stuff up to the counter. The clerk folded our purchases and put them in boxes, while scanning the store with his eyes. Where the hell was our pimp? I was starting to get worried. There'd be no new clothes for the ho's if he didn't show his scarred-up face, soon. There was a hush throughout the boutique. Disappointed looks washed over the prostitutes' faces. Then, our pimp came out of the back room sporting a crisp, new pinstripe suit. "Did my bitches miss me? I had to get a little somethin for myself." He grinned and pointed to his suit. And made his way to the counter, where he paid for our clothes. | Monday, April 18, 2005 To be un-biased and balanced here in my blogging, I hereby declare that soy is bad for you. It fucks up your reproductive hormones if you are girl (which I will attest to) and supposedly messes up your stomach and is bad for babies, etc.. According to the article I have linked, soy has "more negatives than positives". I do not agree with that statement. Health food people can be so dogmatic. I think it is all a matter of your priorities and your body. I'm no nutritionist, but I know I don't respond well to animal meat and milk. So I will still continue to eat and drink soy multiple times a day, due to its not being a filthy, dead piece of carcass. |
WOW! Why didn't I know about this when it happened!?! In the year 2000, a bunny was given jellyfish DNA so she would glow green under blacklight. How cool is that! Alba rocks! | Sunday, April 17, 2005 I'm about to throw the universe a BIG curve.. what is the least thing you would expect to hear me say? Besides "Cook me up a big steak".. it would be that I'm quitting sex, right? Well, let the planes crash and the fault lines crawl. I have just made my first good decision ever! I am quitting sex until the end of the school year. Why? For one, I've been bored with it lately. I've done too much. I'm desensitized. The kinks and fetishes which used to rock my world now leave me numb and terribly confused. I can't get turned on by physical things when I have so much to worry about. I need to get my shit together. I need to go to class, turn in my work, get some writing done, find a job and a place to live. And how am I supposed to do that if I'm up all night having sex, then spending my days dwelling on it? I know this will be hard. I am going to be very lonely at bedtime. The sex I will not miss so much as having someone to snuggle up next to and guard my body while I journey to dreamland. I often have disturbing and fucked up nightmares when I sleep alone. But I'm sure they will fade and I will be proud of myself this summer when I have straight A's and am gainfully employed. |
Waaaaa!!!!!!!! Dream I worked at a concert venue. It was my job to go out and hang flyers for shows all over the city. I took a stack of flyers and got in my little blue car and without realizing it I...drove to the lake and threw the flyers in! Nooooooooo! Why the hell did I do that!?! I tried to turn my car around and drive back to the venue. I could tell them I hung up the posters real fast and needed more. Or that I lost them in an angry gust of wind. But dammit, these locked gates kept springing up in front of my car. I had to get out and kick them open. I woke up with my lungs and stomach tied in one big torso knot. | Saturday, April 16, 2005 Someone left a coconut half-hammered on the ground This is not Honolulu So I stepped on it and snapped its shell and poked my thumb inside to where the maggots quiver Afterward my nail smelled just like my cunt |
I was at school. I had just lost my job, my home and my car. There was this booth set up in the hall. You could win a couple thousand dollars for drinking a few cans of pop really fast. They were closing the booth and could take only one more contestant. This loud, rich girl I was standing next to pushed me over and yelled, "me me me!" She sat at the booth, drank the pop and won the money. I climbed to my feet and muttured, "Survival of the fittest? If she is the fittest, let me die." I walked to the vending machine, reached into my pocket and found no change. All I had were these tiny, plastic animals: penguins and seals and polar bears. I tried to shove them into the coin hole on the machine. They got stuck. I realized I was late for class. | Friday, April 15, 2005 Today I got my aura photographed. I put my hands on the magic aura machine and it projected my colors onto a computer screen. My aura was mostly dark blue, with green swirls and a purple arc above my head. Blue is supposed to stand for emotions and creativity, green for healing and purple for intuition. What scared me was the black spot over my lungs. The first thing the aura dude asked me was, "What are you worried about?" He pointed out the black spot on my chest. I said, "money" and told him I've had a cold for a month. He suggested I tap my lungs and say ah-ah-ah-ah-ah every morning to loosen up the blockage. And also quit worrying about money. Then he said my energy was low. I asked why. He said it's because I daydream so much. "You think about your boyfriend, your family, the mountains, the lake. All your energy goes outside to them. There's less of it for you." That makes a lot of sense. Damn you, lake! Give me my energy back! Oddly enough, my stress level was low. Well, maybe not so oddly. I am usually pretty calm, unless hungry or angered. I work very hard to stay calm. The aura people tried to get me to join their meditation club. I have a gut aversion to meditation. It's just that, for me thinking about nothing doesn't seem particularly useful or enjoyable. It actually sounds boring. I like to daydream. As a writer that is half my job. To watch and hear stories in my head. If I didn't have characters constantly nagging me to write them down, I would never do it. They told me to exercise too, but they probably said that to every chubby girl who came to the aura booth. Most exercising hurts. But it would be fun to get a bike to ride (mine was stolen last year) and dance more often. |
Columbia has facebook now. And therefore, so do I. Find me and add me because I'm like, so cool. The end. |
Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. Thursday night is not the weekend. | Thursday, April 14, 2005 Lake Allison tribute to WHALEDONG! Der Wal hat weniger Sperma als zuweilen angenommen Eine der skurrilsten Geschichten, die im Internet kursieren, behauptet, dass ein Blauwal mit jeder Ejakulation über 1500 Liter (!) Sperma ausstößt. Zur Illustration dient ein Foto, das angeblich einen Blauwal mit erigierten Penis zeigen soll.Hier zunächst Text und Foto: Ein waldong: http://www.planetdan.net/pics/misc/whale.jpg Swimming upside-down: http://www24.big.or.jp/~kyusoku/whale7/penis.jpg Put to good use: http://animals.timduru.org/dirlist/orca/KillerWhales-Orca-Mating.jpg |
Dear Secret Service, On behalf of the strange and deshevled artistic populace of Columbia College, I kindly request you to leave us alone. Art, even this piece here is not a form of terrorism. The art itself is not the issue here, anyway. This is about 1st amendment rights and yes, we still do have them. So please go away. God bless the US, Allison S |
So I wore nice clothes to work today. Intended to go to the job fair downstairs, but decided against it when I heard it was nothing but restaurants and retail, which are the two sectors I REFUSE to work in. I know what you're saying, "But Allison, you are starving to death and have nowhere to live. You should take any job you can get." Oh, but you see, I know myself. I can't work just anywhere. I have gotten fired from many a job with the simple explanation of, "Sorry, you don't fit in here." Instead, I am applying for an internship writing for a pornographic video game. Yeah, I think that fits me much better. heh | Tuesday, April 12, 2005 I'm so fucking OUT OF IT today... whooooo *head clouds* and I have so much crap to do. Things to read, stories and journal entries to write for tomorrow.. somebody please send a ship to retrieve me from mars. |
This pre-vegetable Terri. A very pretty girl. | Monday, April 11, 2005 Me and cat Waldo Woo (RIP) circa 1987. AWWWWW! |
Come on.. this isn't offensive, is it? Do the Schiavo |
Departure? No man, I FLED! | Sunday, April 10, 2005 I just read over that last post.. it was sort of snobby. Why is making fun of things so fun? I guess that is why its called making "fun". Because it's fun. |
u no wat every1 the worlds liek f*ed up
And they won't be fully extinct. Like you can still find Cassette Tapes, and 45's. So yea VHS will still be around just not as common as DVD. Personally I think DVD is better anyways." the inane: -When your fingers get cold, does your typing accuracy and speed decrease? -When you were little, did you ever find zombies to be tremendously unscary, for the simple fact that they walk so slowly and are easily escapable? "thats the beauty of the zombie,everyone underestimates them until they are stuck in a corner with 200 of those mtoherf*ckers redy to eat ur brains.but i was neevr afraid of zombies for the even simply reson that they dont exist" and the potentially intellegent: -Do you believe in String Theory that claims that we live in a 11 dimensional world? that fell short due to because of the way in which it was worded and phrased. "this is very intersting, i read about that theory once, and ya, maybe it is possible. cus the universe is u kno large and stuff." If this were any dumber, it would be myspace.. |
S: Is it supposed to rain tomorrow? A: I don't know. I haven't died, yet. *** I have finally realized the reason beer exists: dancing! If you knock back a couple of cocktails then try to dance, you will most likely get too fucked up, too fast and end up greeting Mr. Floor in a painfully intimate way. (See huge bruise on my left thigh for example.) Also, being drunk on a dance floor makes you more apt to choose..well, less than suitable dance partners. Like the sleezebag who goes to industrial clubs in a button-up shirt with his hair in stupid yuppie-spikes, hoping to score with a "hot goth chick". Or the obviously straight girl who, in your drunken dreams, you are certain you can lure away from her boyfriend and into the women's bathroom. However, if you drink beer, then dance you are not only tipsy, but refreshed and still coordinated enough to stay on your feet and dance away from icky Mr. Yuppie spikes and Ms. I love the cock so I will scream when this strange girl grinds her ass on me. The only problem is DAMN does beer give me a headache when I start to sober up. I want to get stronger so I can dance for 5 hours straight without odd cramps and pains. I dance like a rabid snake in heat, fast and wiggly, using muscles that uh.. I don't use as much as I once did. This can be quite painful. Maybe I should learn to dance slower. Or exercise those muscles more. Hm.. | Saturday, April 09, 2005 This is silly, but that personality test sort of got me down. It didn't have one single nice thing to say about me. I do have good traits. I know it. So what if a personality test didn't pick up on them. Those things were written by evil shrinks anyhow. Or wannabe evil shrinks. -I am entertaining. When I am well-fed and happy, I am really fun to be around. I smile and joke. I dance and sing. I'm awfully cute. But the evil shrinks who write personality tests would probably call this trait attention hungry or manipulative because they are jealous of people like me and have no sense of humor. -Another nice trait of mine is that I face new people with an open mind. There aren't people I won't talk to just because others "warn" me about them, or because something about them seems "weird". I have grown more cautious over the years, but will still converse with pretty much anyone who is friendly to me. I will listen to the crazy old lady in the diner, or the not-so-attractive guy who tries to get in every girl's pants. Doesn't mean they don't deserve to be respected and have their words taken as a valid, human opinion. Even if the old lady is rambling on about how there are horses in the bathroom. And I just won't get too close with the guy. I guess you could call me fair and non-judgemental. But, in contrast to my open-mindedness, if somebody does something to piss me off right away, like pull out his shrivled old cock and wack off on the train while ogling me, I might just punch his nose in, even though I don't know him. -I don't consider weird to be a negative trait. Throughout my life, I have made it a point to do things in my very own way. I've always felt fake when trying to act and talk like other people. I don't usually blend in. Why should I have to? -I do have goals. Many goals, meaning things I am taking necessary steps to accomplish. For example, I want to have an actual home again. Soon. So I have been looking for a well-paying summer job and potential roomates. I want to, one day have a career I love. In which I am helping people with their writing, somehow. Like as a teacher or a literary agent (I am an excellent salesperson). Don't doubt me. I could clean up my act really fast if it were necessary. So for now, I am going to college and looking for an internship. I want to publish my fiction, so I make it a point to write each day and send out submissions to magazines frequently. What makes people see me as aimless is that I don't get so caught up in the specifics of my goals. I keep them loose. I say, "I want a job I love, using the skills I posess" rather than "If I don't work as a blablabla, then I am a total failure." Sometimes life is indifferent to human will. Circumstances aren't always in my favor. So why disappoint myself by trying to impose my guidelines on them? -I am aware of my contradictions. Like how my bias against evil shrinks contradicts my open-mindedness. And how my willingness to clean up for a good job contradicts my weird-and-proudness. But who is without contradictions? They are what make humans interesting and complex. I could go on and on about how cool I am, despite my supposedly flawed personality. But I am getting sick of writing this. I just felt I should stick up for myself. |
Yeah, they've pretty much figured me out. trait snapshot: messy, irritable, depressed, fragile, worrying, emotionally sensitive, does not like to lead, phobic, weird, suspicious, low self control, paranoid, frequently second guesses self, dependent, unproductive, introverted, weak, strange, unassertive, submissive, familiar with the dark side of life, feels invisible, rash, vain, anti-authority, heart over mind, low self concept, disorganized, not good at saving money, avoidant, daydreamer
personality tests by similarminds.com | Friday, April 08, 2005 Here is a fun car crash scene:
| Thursday, April 07, 2005 I have this recurring dream of 4 basements. It is a vague dream. Nothing much happens, but it takes hours. I'm searching for something. A non-descript person who lurks in my periphery is helping me look for whatever I lost. The basements are fairly standard and bare. Cement walls, a few cardboard boxes in each. After we glance around the floor of one basement and rummage through the boxes, finding only papers and not the missing object, we climb up the stairs, back into the dark little hallway, then down more stairs, to search through another basement. The only thing that sets these basements apart is the temperature. One basement is sort of chilly, but not uncomfortable, two are mild and one is unbearibly hot. I never find the missing whatever-it-is. * Yesterday, I went back to my old apartment building. The one in the city. Why didn't I like it there? I can't fathom it now, how incredibly trapped and lonely I felt living on my own. Was I really so alone when I could walk down the hall and knock on a door, or go to the coffee shop or the beach and undoubtedly find somebody I knew to talk to? The stove is in my old window. It has been ripped from the wall, I guess. I assume they are trying to fix the place up so they can charge twice as much for it. A friend of mine in the building told me they've been evicting a lot of people. Give up, guys. You'll never turn that dump into condos as long as those foot-long cockroaches dance in the hallway. | Tuesday, April 05, 2005 Why do I feel the need to post every little realization about myself and my world for the big, wide internet to (potentially) see? I should go run through the school naked. It would be a more honest way of exposing myself. |
Wow. I actually have sunburn. |
I've realized if I bring healthy food to school and eat it throughout the day, my mood is stable. I feel calm and content, but energized. I am not crazy. Why didn't anyone ever check out my blood sugar levels? All I needed was a regular eating schedule. |
This is so odd.. I don't get it. |
Err..never mind. Just a common and harmless house spider, I think. They look so alike, though. Agghh I've been such a tweaker lately! | Monday, April 04, 2005 I just found 3 big SCARY brown recluse spiders on my kitchen floor, about 10 feet from where I sleep in the living room. I am doomed. Expect to see one of these on me at some point, this spring. I got bit by one a few years ago and I was very ill. This is so sad. |
Blogger has not let me post all day! NOOOO! It has been an okay day. My nose is producing bright orange snot, which worries me. I APPLIED FOR GRADUATION!! *glee* Because I realized I do not owe the school 1/10th of what I thought I did.. Oh yeah, and I think I am giving up on my novel. Sad, but necessary. It has caused me nothing but frustration, lately because how am I supposed to write a girl's journey/adventure when I have never had one of my own? I could write these experiences with authority, but without actually knowing what it is like to be way out of my comfort zone with nowhere to hide, it lacks a certain authenticity. So I will go back to writing vaguely erotic magical realism. I can pull that off well. | Sunday, April 03, 2005 It is so easy to freak out over nothing much. I'll be okay. *breathe* |
I live in a town where everyone knows me and hates me. I've gotten pretty much everything out of school that I can.. and there is little chance that I can get the loans to pay off my balance to graduate so.. what if I ran away? |
P.S. I did some spying. Sorry about that. I get the impression it wasn't me you were pissed at.. I just happened to be a few thousand miles closer and much easier to take it out on. Which wasn't fair at all. But it's something everyone does, displace emotions. The difference is, I never deceived you. I am polyamorous and was always honest about that, even if you didn't like it. I'll miss you. |
Dear You, Ohh god it just hit me.. you're really gone this time. I doubt you'll read this, but like the silly Sysiphus (sp) I am, I feel the need to ask you a few futile questions: What made you go from wanting to work with me on a project and talking to me every day and hanging out with me so often to making me the mascot for everything you think is fucked up in the world? What in your brain or your feelings snapped? What could I have possibly said or done to make you hate me so damn much? Why now after..well, you know, everything. I guess you're fed up with me, finally. Maybe I should be relieved. That now I don't have the burden of wishing the war would end so you don't have to go. That now I have reason to push your image out of my mind while I'm fucking someone else. That now I don't have to wait or hope any longer. But I am not relieved. Because you are gone. The you that I knew. I really don't know who that was, the other night. That hard and hostile man who was wearing your fedora. I ran away from him. The higher I push this rock, the harder it will fall. I am nearly as tired as this over-done Camus metaphor. So I guess all I can say is goodbye. -A |
Fun with a $20 digital camera! 1. I live on a very steep hill. 2. AHAHAHAHAAA! 3. I am taking a dump on this tree. 4. Girl with cheese colored hair in hell. 5. Can you spot the snack food in this picture? |
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It's noon..right!?!?! It's already tomorrow in China. How could that be!? This freaks me out: http://www.worldtimezone.com/ How and why do they carve up the world like that and make it different times in different places? I know it has something to do with the sun, but in some parts of the world, like Austrailia for example, there are time zones right on top of eachother at the same longitude. What's with that? Wouldn't it be equally sunny in those places at the same time? And why is Grenwich, England considered the center of the map and every other time zone is + or - based on its proximity to Grenwich? Colonialism? I think I learned this all in 7th grade, but forgot and it's tweaking me out. I do not believe in time as an entity in itself. It is just a measure of change with the sun as a frame of reference. Nothing scary. No, not scary at all. We could just as well measure minutes by how often I use the word "just", but I'd like to think my word use is (hopefully) a little less predictable than the sun. |
HOLY SHIT WHAT TIME IS IT!?!?!?!?!?! | Saturday, April 02, 2005 Okay, I'm gonna do that 10 person secret message thing again, because it's fun and everybody always thinks the wrong ones are about them. 1. You are always so calm. And calming. When I am around you, I can barely speak, I am so sedate and peaceful. I would like to see you on meth. I want to see you go totally gonzo and take pictures of you taking pictures and running at people all speeded up to be a human zoom lens and we can beat up more toilets. The secret about the cat sort of turned me on. 2. My forever thanks to you for introducing me to the vodka tonic! 3. I might take you up on that offer. I want to see your loft/art gallery. We had the funnest elevator rides. You would like having me around. I scream about 95% less than your ex-girlfriend. And I don't listen to therapists. 4. I still want to see your dungeon. 5. One word: Mazola (Yeah, that'll never get old..) 6. Two words: Prove it. (Mhm. Thought so, bitch.) 7. One day, you'll go to Borders with your family and pick up my book on a whim and see me there on the back cover, looking up at you with my sexy green eyes and you'll remember. You won't be able to fuck your wife, that night. Then every time you do for the next 2 months, you'll see my picture in your head. When this happens, look up my #. 8. I should really get back in the habit of calling you God. 9. I'm sorry I tried to make you go to a scary, dark place. It actually, deep down, thrills me when you freak out about silly things. I promise I did like the movie. Good luck in LA. I might join you there in the summer if I can't find a job. 10. Your bruises had the shape of words. You are the queen of some happy, fucked-up dimension I can only hope to glance at in my wettest dreams. |
Your secret name is 201 B.C.. The animal which symbolizes you is nine sided triangle. The color of your soul is barf. The celebrity you most resemble is Capitan Fiskcakes. Your special pain or illness is Fisk. Your most important time of day is Incresimentident. The shape of your life is Bob Dole. And the flavor which identifies you most is Yellow Sickness. The DADA Server |
Yes, it's another rant on the suburbs. These will continue until I find a way back to the city. It is easy for people out here to discredit what I say. "Oh, she's Crazy Allison..she's out of her mind, don't listen to her. She must be off her meds." Fuck you. Don't medicate me just because I have not exchanged my dreams for a job at a chain store. Because when I don't like someone or something, I say so. Because I haven't got it all figured out at age 21. Because I am not satisfied leaving my art as a hobby. Because I can't fathom spending every single day of my life doing something I don't give a shit about, just so I can raise some kids who might do something great one day. I'd rather do something great with my own life. So if this makes me crazy, then yes, I am ass-raving mad. | Friday, April 01, 2005 After Tuesday, I won't have a single friend left in the suburbs. I can't fit into a culture where people are commodities and love and generosity are considered "irresponsible". |
Oh yeah, Terri Shiavo died, too didn't she? |
I've been thinking about death some more. About how people wake up during heart attacks and can feel it as they die. When it happened to my mom, she was alone in her room. I was at work, so was my dad. My sisters were asleep. I wonder if she tried to call out for help. If she thought, "No, I can't go yet! I have 3 kids that need me and I just got promoted at work." or if she was happy about it, once she realized she had been handed a pass to leave her confining life. What was the last thing she looked at? Is it in the room still? She was sleeping before it happened. Did she think it was a dream? How bad did it hurt? For how long? My sisters found her. I've never asked them what it was like. To shake her shoulders and try to wake her up and have her, their very own mother, hang in their hands like a mannican. Were her eyes open? That would've been freaky. Her eyes were big and bulgy like mine, but brighter and blue. Were they sunken in? How long does it take for the water to drain from someone's eyes once they die? I also wonder about Mitch Hedberg, since I read that his wife was in the hotel room when he died. Did she see it happen? Did his eyes bug out and did he gasp and cough and what is there to do in that situation but watch? Did she tell him goodbye? Or was she sleeping when it happened? Did she wake up to find him collapsed and dead? Right next to her? Then what? There is the just-dead body of someone she loved, still warm. Did she want to hold him and sweep the hair from his face and did she expect to see living Mitch look up at her and smile? And what was it like once she finally realized he was a corpse, something scary? What was the last thing he said before his heart attack? Was it funny? Or something mundane like, "I'm hungry. Let's go get some dinner soon." I wonder what mine will be like. I have a feeling I'll die in a similiar way. My heart forgets to beat sometimes. I hope it will give out before I get old and ugly. The only way I know how to relate to people is through flirting. And once I get too ugly to flirt.. I don't even want to think about how lonely I will be. Where will I be when I die? At home? What kind of home? A tiny, cluttered apartment I share with my cat? Or will I have a husband or a friend to live with? If not, who will find me? Will my blood run from my pores and through the floor and into my downstairs neighbors' apartment and that will be how they notice I'm dead? Or maybe I'll be rich and loved and have lots of friends and they will find me before I reek too badly. Will I die on a train? I bet I will. Enough. |
My mom doesn't have a grave, she has a tree. I went there today for the first time since it was planted, a year and a half ago. I tied a ribbon to it and felt like the ugly narrator of an Oprah book. Like I should've dug my knees into the muddy earth and cried out, "Mother, my life is so very sad because you're dead and we have no money and some strange guy got me pregnant because I didn't know what sex was! Boo hoo!" Which is not true. But would be if I were the ugly narrator of an Oprah book. What I said wasn't that different, though. I told her how I make just enough to take care of me. About how I was betrayed by my friends and am almost done with school and am writing a book that she would hate, but would she put in a good word to the publishing gods for me, anyway? I promised I'd fill the birdfeeders hanging from the tree so that birds would nest there in the spring. I think I'll go back in a couple of days to do that. Either late at night or early in the morning, when there won't be people walking by giving me funny looks for talking to the tree outside the preschool classroom. |
Wake up wake up wake up its the first of the month! |
So I'm pretty sure it's true. I used to do drugs. I still do, but I used to, too. No you don't because you're DEAD!!!! =*( |
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let this be an April Fool's joke! |
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