Reek. It Rhymes with Seek.

I keep telling myself I'm going to come up with something. Something as great as the three-part brilliance that was the story of my father's funeral. Something as absurd as the history of "Tainted Love" trilogy. I've been mildly perturbed at (or with, you choose) myself for not having more to say about my mother's funeral but it was a very different situation. And I was drunk the entire fucking time. Like literally. There was a lot of drinking that week. I was sitting in the front row during the eulogy drinking straight vodka out of a water bottle. When it was time for the after-party I was wasted and didn't even notice that my 18 year old nephew was also drunk and just randomly yelling nigger and faggot from the corner of the kitchen.

We can't have nice things.

I guess I'm kinda telling a story about it now so let me add that after B. scared everyone away and K. came back with his room mate and co., I got blazed and remember D.'s brother telling us a story about how his baby had died recently. I also remember asking said brother where he was from because he was very New Jersey. He's from Elkton. He took me saying he seemed Jersey as a compliment. Kids.

Something happened to my original image so here's a photo of the outside of "BG Books"
(My sisters have a used bookstore here. In Elkton. BG stands for Big Girls.)

But I don't know. I'm here. Here. My stomach has been trying to kill me the last few days. In retaliation, I assume, for my hedonistic behavior that started with PMS and ended(?) with my birthday weekend. Turns out you can gain 5 pounds in two weeks. You just have to work at it.

Yeah, that's whatever. She said, as she ate another piece of chocolate.

I'm going on a solo adventure this weekend. The crazy part is that I'll be driving. All the way to Philly. By myself. In the White Knight of Texas. If something deeply upsetting doesn't happen during my travels I'll be fucking surprised.

I need more anger. I think that's what's been missing. Or a decent celebrity crush. (Mind your business.) I've been stagnant and bored with just everything. I hate admitting that I'm bored. The whole "if you're bored then you're boring" thing. I don't want to be boring.

I want to be adored. I want everyone to love me. Which is total bullshit because the actual stress from that isn't any fun, either. Even a little bit of attention does my head in.

I never know what I want. Except the total eradication of all insects.

Indomitable spirit. That's what I have. Am I right?


I'm reposting this, from August 2010. Because I can and because I listened to it tonight and it's not half bad. And I didn't cry while listening to track 7. I think that's a first.

I've been thinking a lot of uncomfortable "thinks" lately. To commemorate this I've made another mixtape for you. It's called "Sad Sack" (that's the link) and I am not providing artists or titles in an attempt to avoid prejudice.  Although, I did provide some sample lyrics so you could figure out the songs from that. JFGI.

1. How it feels to hate yourself because of your appearance.
     "I wish you'd see yourself as beautiful as I see you."

2. How it feels to have to fake being ok every day.
    "Do you want me to smile? Well, I'll try."

3. How it feels to not have any control.
    "C'mon, mood, shift, shift back to good again. C'mon, be a friend."

4. How it feels to interact with other people.
    "I wish you the best, you snake."

5. How it feels to know your dreams, and the dreams of those you love the most, will never come true.  See song 6.
    "May all of your dreams come true."

6. How it feels to grow up poor.
    "Tell 'em all they can kiss our asses goodbye."

7. How it feels to know too much about your parents' relationship and how it has affected every aspect of your life. I am being dead serious when I tell you that I can't listen to this song without crying like a baby.

    "Because of you I find it hard to trust not only me but everyone around me."

8. How it feels to be constantly fucked over. See songs 5 and 6.
    "Must I weep and mourn?"

9. How it feels to fuck up when you're young.
    "She's feeling more alone than she ever has before."

10. How it feels to love someone who's just as fucked up as you are.
       "You're not free now; you're not innocent; you're transparent; and you're right."

11. How it feels when a friend dies and you know he was a better person than you'll ever be.
      "Goodbye my friend."

12. How it feels to feel ok sometimes. Even if it's artificial.
       "For all the shit, for all the dear departed, for all the war, we've still got beer."

13. How it feels to get older.
       "I'd rather stay here in my room; nothin' out there but sad and gloom."  

14. How it feels to keep on livin.'
       "Don't let them bring you down and don't let them fuck you around cuz those are your arms, that is your heart and no, no, they can't tear you apart."

Panic Button

I'm having one of my "going quiet" episodes brought on by an impending job search. Or at least I think that's what it is.

I've been trying to write everyday on my lunch break and it feels like each day I have less and less to say. Or I'm just repeating the same things over and over again. Yesterday there was this: "I know. I'm totally blank. Because I should be doing at this point. Not thinking."

But it's the idea of "doing" that triggers the panic. (We could get into some deep psychological shit if I were to start unpacking that sentence.) And then I mentally (and physically) shut down and I'm just "no, no, no, no, no. I'm going to stay here where it's safe. Here inside myself, inside my head, here inside this apartment, inside this windowless office at work. It's okay here. It's not so bad." When really I want to scream and break things. And escape.

Forgive me for what I'm about to do here, I know he can be hard to take. I may have mentioned... no, actually I don't think I ever finished writing that, about how much I identify with Kanye West. I think it's still a draft. Anyway. It probably won't be clear to you but I have a special affinity for this song. We're both assholes.

Last night I just sat on the couch, watching TV, not even looking for anyone to talk to online. "No, no, no, no, no." The Killing, Mad Men, Drag Race. All the while eating the candy and drinking the sweet, sweet Coca-Cola I bought at Target after work. Thinking, fuck it. All the while wishing I was fucking drunk. Then I went to bed.

It's always the same. I know I just have to give it time. I'll come out of it. When it has to be done I'll do it. Sometimes it's just nice to succumb to the desire to hide and eat like an asshole, even knowing the whole time that you're only hurting yourself. Because you feel like you deserve it. And I know how to hurt myself best.

God. Even writing this is making me anxious. I've got that weak, shaky feeling you get. Do you know that one? Just from writing. And my hands are all sweaty. I'm a god damn mess.

But I'll come out of it. 

I Demand a Recount.

Guys, guys, guys! My birthday is coming up. It's a big one and, as usual, I haven't made any plans. Story of my life. No plans.

I mean, there are a couple of big ones I'm working on. Moving back to Philly being the main plan right now. Yeah, yeah, yeah. We've been here before. 2 years ago. I think it's all about Wawa. But I've updated my resume (last week), made an application on Penn's website (this week), maybe next week I'll actually start applying for jobs. Five months isn't a long time. You get used to living in PGH and it's hard to get out... you get lazy and used to paying your bills.

But I'm getting old. And I know it's overly dramatic but the other day I literally wrote that if I don't get out of here soon it's going to be a death sentence. I can't die here. I have better things to do.

I'm in a panic about bringing it up to my boss, though, because he's an old man who has told me and everyone else repeatedly that I can't leave him because his dead wife sent me to him and if I leave her ghost will haunt me. He says this. I think he's only half joking. But the thing is, I could really use his help with finding a job. GRR!

And I know I'm kind of PMS-y right now. And I have to pay taxes, another reason Pittsburgh has been fucked up. We've never owed money until we came here. Trying to find a job stresses me the fuck out. Our clothes dryer stopped working. I'm blaming Heather and all the weird shit she puts in there like boots and stuffed animals. No one's called about it being broken, though. Why would we? My birthday, needing a haircut, grocery shopping, driving to Philly at the end of the month, all these things are stressing me out. And I'm tired, very, very tired. Don't even get me started on the drinking, or rather the trying not to drink and the cake and the McDonald's, potato chips...

Yet I'm feeling strangely optimistic right now.

I know.