display | more...
It is my mission in life to stick words together. I was pretending it was my mission to sit back and wonder if I am any good at it. I mean wonder so hard that even after my most trusted lovers and friends came to me with their truest voices, their moist emotional eyes, and said THANK YOU, I still thought, I am not any good. I will never get published. I will never be paid. I will never support myself.

This train runs every hour. Fuck that train. Fuck that slimy reptilian beast of habit, that safety of self-doubt.



Thresholds. Boundaries. Places where the people meet and fall in love. Erotic sparks electric jumps. I stir the pot and memories come to the surface, all these wonderful people who loved me when I would let them.

Thank YOU for opening the floodgates, your voice got in my ear I knew heat and passion again. You are so open and delightful and spiritually aware of yourself, an empath like me. Thank you for the intoxicated marching, the trips, the long drives, for bringing me the city, telling me the truth even when I did not want to hear it. Thank you for wanting to wait for me, then thanks for cutting that out.

Thank YOU for making me beautiful, liking my hair, reading my words, for being safe and depraved. Thank you for the words you used, for allowing me to be right in the moment. For ALWAYS being there, woven so deep into my life I almost overlooked you. Thank you for taking me by the arm and running with me. Thank you for the spoon. Thank you for the dance, for holding on so tight that one night when I thought my body was about to drip off my mind.

Thank YOU for the hollow in your neck, rail thin body, vine like limbs, intoxicating natural scent, amazing kiss, just the right amount of commitment at just the right moment. Thank you for the motorcycle rides, the time we tipped the bike in the middle of the road and kept making out anyway. Thank you for making me have to give you up because you would not take care of yourself.

Thank YOU for your broad chest, fingertips tracing inner arm, hot breath in the ear, for moaning when I touched you, for being a man sized boy when I could not have handled anything else. Thank you for making me strong enough to get as far away from you as possible.

Thank YOU for the nude camping, that one night when the city lay out beneath us and the sun went down and up again. We brushed our skin with green leaves, red berries, tiny thorns, and gossamer threads on branches. Thank you for the babies, the birthing, the playful creative energy. That glorious night in the cornfield where I ran and you caught me. For love notes in the morning. For laughing until our faces hurt. Thank you for liking my words, for hearing the difference, for giving me the space I struggled not to need.

Thank YOU for listening to me, for being such a great writer. For our silly little slumber party where we tried SO hard to get drunk. For hugging that guy at Larry’s, for the amazing dolls you make and all the groovy cards. Thank you for the pink carnations and that big bag of sunshine you brought me the day after my LEEP. Remember what a warm day it was for November? I think I ate half the clementines. I think you healed me. Thank you for helping me feel sane those times when I called and there was a screaming baby or two hanging off my pant leg.

Thank YOU for that time you heard I was in trouble and you helped me.

Thank YOU for the terribly kind and amazing words, the fantastic mail.

Thank YOU for the chance to be your mother, the mind-blowing experience of growing you inside me and learning how to help you get out. Thank you for every scribble, every dribble, every sigh, scream and smile. Thank you for your fresh thoughts, your kid logic, those gigantic eyes. Thank you for the eyelash wishes, butterfly kisses, funny phrases and goofy dancing.



I discovered that I am a beautiful, intelligent, sexual woman. I have a fine way with words, a mighty nice mouth and a capacity for love that stretches beyond the horizon. I am a downhill boulder, all tea parties must kick it to the side or be smashed. I am raw and ugly and mean. I can make you mad. I can make you well. I can make it good, or sad, or patch it up once more. I just caught a big ball of reality and ended up grateful for the bitter parts, delighted by the sweet. It did not get nicer, but it sure got a hell of a lot more honest.

Ok, ok, ok. I have a problem.

And yeah, I am sure some of you are thinking, "No shit!"

But seriously, this morning, while typing away on MSN messenger, chatting with a ffriend,yes, I have those we got on the topic of coffee,(mmmmmm...), and he got all pissed because I get it for free,(even though it is shit,) and he has to pay for it! This is quite the reasonable complaint, for why should anyone, especially those that work in an office have to pay for coffee while at work? This is ridiculous in itself.

But anyway, he was telling me how it's 63 cents for a "decent" cup and 20 cents for a cup of coffee from the vending machine. I couldn't believe what I was reading! Wha!!??? Vending machines that serve drinks and soup still exist! What is with that!

I couldn't believe that this insult to the very notion of a cup of coffee still could be found lurking in various office buildings all over the world.

This is tragic.

Who was the idiot that thought up that idea anyway. I mean, I know that the majority of the industrialized world is 9 to 5, rush, rush, rush. Go, go ,go. No time to breath, no time to sit down and have a decent cup of coffee. But, this is no excuse for the creation of a vending machine that serves "coffee." I suppose it is instant coffee, which makes it even more horrific.

Uggghhh!

Now, there are very few things in life that I complain about, well, maybe not, but very few trivial things, like food products, etc, that I gripe about. But coffee, no, coffee is the ultimate exception.

You see, coffee, to me anyway, is life in a cup. The smell, the taste, the way the little specs of oil float around on the top.

(Now, that is in a divine cup of the real good stuff.)

Oh the delight one may find in a cup of coffee that is so good, all you need is a little cream and it is perfect.

Anyway, back to the whole vending machine business. I have decided that, along with my goals of getting a philosophy degree, and finding a decent teaching job somewhere, someday, oh and I suppose attaining "true" happiness,whatever the hell that is I am now going to attempt to rid the world of all those devious little machines, spewing out filth, that some corporate mogul has decided to title coffee.

So, someday, while working away in your crowded cubby hole of an office, don't be alarmed if, when arising to go pay for yet another cup of shit, you find an empty space where the bloody thing used to be.


From now on, I will be known as the Coffee Vending Machine Avenger! Beware!

We went skiing today. Our schoolclass. I do "Telemark", the downhill style where the heel is loose from the ski - usually this is one of the most fun things in the world for me to do. Today it was not.

It was snowing a little when we got to the skiresort in the morning, and it got worse all day untill we could hardly see anything infront of us. It was like skiing with a blindefold.

Is it not annoying sometimes, when things you really love doing, and have been looking forewards to doing for a long time end up being a complete waste of time with no point at all? That is what today felt like. A completely wasted day, that might as well never have existed, especially since it was supposed to feel great.

Let's just hope that the depressions of today will make the average day of tomorrow seem like a party

I don't always like myself for falling off the face of the earth, but sometimes there is no other alternative.<> As in right now, I haven't picked up a keyboard or made a long distance call in about a month. I just haven't wanted to.

Dad had a heart attack. What else is there to say? We can't get him stabilized enough to let him have the operation, so he'll stay right where he is until....Until what?!?!And I am dead serious about not hearing anything pitying. I refuse to feel sorry for myself, so I don't wanna hear anyone else feel sorry for me. Feel badly for him, he's the one who's really being dealt the unfairness. Being so damn uncomfortable, embarassed, frustrated, scared, in those friggin' beds unable to turn over on his side without someone helping him. I get to this point, and I hope someone has the sense and decency to take me out back and shoot me like the lame horse I am. This is all just so not fair!

So, let me do my thing, already. You now, go to ICU everyday, sit on the edge of the chair until he calls me by my mother's name, and jump at the chance to make this as easy as possible for him.

If I'm not there, I'm at home with Thor working at the bench, working silver or paint, or playing with Freya, the '73 Volkswagon bug I got him for his birthday.

I get nine days off from this. I leave for Arizona Friday morning, and I am so looking forward to this reprieve. I covered for Mom while she was in California two weeks ago, so now it's my turn.

I am not bitching, I'm actually really damn glad I'm here. I just don't have a lot to say, and I'm having a hard time relating to outside situations because I'm so concentrated on this. So please, just understand.

Just an average day for me...get up, go to work, listen to people whine for 8 hours, go home, then resume my life.

My mom e-mailed me, informing that a 1999 Ford Taurus that I was hoping to buy is about to be sold. However, she did tell me later in the day that there is another Taurus at another dealership and I put it into my plans to stop in and take a look at it.

I also stopped by my mechanic's garage and paid what I owed him for car repairs to what I'm driving right now. While there, another guy who thought he knew me told me that he had a computer that he obtained from a business. The computer was in a box and he didn't know what to do with it. I told him that I can take a look at it and find out if there's anything that can be used or what needs to be added to make it work properly. I have a feeling that the computer is worthless unless this guy pours his life savings into buying hardware. If that's the case, I would just tell him to go spend $600 on an e-machine so he would have something that is cheap and (somewhat) reliable.

My girlfriend also tried to contact me via ICQ, but I was offline at the time she was on. Didn't catch the exact time that she was online, but I wasn't expecting to hear from her before Monday. I replied back with what has been going on in my life and hope to hear from her on Monday.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.