wounded in love

click on the bottom of the page to turn it...

and everybody said 'i remember way back when'

Turning leaves. Turning pages. Turning my mind off. I'm trying, but it's complicated. Like handicapped sex. My inferiority complex about my superiority complex is starting to jumble things. But I'm awake and part of me wants to jump on a plan to LA. I'd say it was because my father's in the hospital, which is true, but I don't think that would be the complete truth.

I'm debating on whether to get rid of some things I have. I have a tremendous ability to attach myself emotionally to things. Objects. Stickers. CDs. Jewelery. Movies. Clothes. Pictures. Everything has a story. A beginning. A why. The past has answers. You're living proof. But this future stuff. So many unknowns. Questions. I know they always say the grass is always greener, but the view is getting harder to resist every day.

God milk

I'd be surprised if anyone still reads this seeing, as I, being the creator/author do not even read it anymore. I guess my own life got too boring for me. Or maybe I got too boring for my life. Either way it still goes on. Life, that is. And maybe this blog is not lost after all. I don't think I am. Completely. But I don't think being 'found' is what it's all about. I'm trying to not let the future loom ahead of me like some big fat ugly unknown. I heard the phrase 'start being responsible for your own happiness' yesterday somewhere, and as fuck all cliche as it sounds, it really was what I needed to hear at that moment. Maybe, maybe, maybe. God I write that a lot. It's been too many dreams and not enough sleep lately, but I'll find my happy prophecy one day.

Maybe.

March 30th 1949

*the first love letter my Grandfather wrote my Grandma. She kept it in her purse until her death.*

My Dear Ethel:

My first letter to you Dear. I have appreciated your letters to me very much. I find them most inspiring and also find it very difficult to express myself as well as you do as regards you and I. Believe me Darling it has been so grand to know you and I look forward to our every minute together. It seems that time really has wings when we are near each other. I have never known anyone whom I enjoyed being with so much until you, Duchess, came into my life. I love your tender ways, your interest and affection. Meeting you has opened a new life and future for me unlike anything that has ever come in to my life. Just sitting next to you and being with you seems to shut out all the rest of the world.

Irish, since we met and have dated only so few times nevertheless a new interest in life, fine hopes for the future, have been opened for me. I had a great time with you last Friday - a better time if that is possible, last Sunday at Young's, and then best of all being with you alone on the shore of the Pacific last Monday night. Standing on the coast overlooking a thousand miles of water with you seemed to me like the beginning of a new and terrific adventure. It is like a new page opened with a new interest in and someone to work for - a real purpose in life and a swell person like you to share it with. Time will tell us in the near future how much we will grow to love each other. I hope I will never become a source of disappointment or unhappiness to you, believe me Honey.

Up to last Friday night I was plodding alone as so many others are, just putting in time, hoping and praying that someone would come along to live, a purpose. You, Darling, have stirred me out of the fog I have been traveling along in. Best of all we can see each other daily and plan our dates together. I enjoyed meeting your mother and brother very much and like them both a lot.
So, my love, as a I must, Bye Bye until our next grand date,

Loads of love and affection,

Maurice

My Dear, listen motionless and tremble... Happiness comes, moves us, and kneeling, speaks to us.
Let us clasp our hands, be grave and listen still. No one is happier tonight, or more divine that we.

Remember that one night, upon the ocean shore. Our fingers trembling to unite as we caressed, we exchanged from mouth to closely pressed mouth the pearl inperishing wherein sleeps memory.

This is our eternal hour, now great eternally, one hour that will survive this --page torn-- love. As redolent of gardenia and jasmine, a veil preserves a hundred years and the newness of one day. Life has upturned again our golden glass of hours.

I thought, Dear, you might like this and read it while we are temporarily apart.

12:15 (far from perfect but close to me)

You were fond of marriage, tattooed hands
Budweiser, not making plans
You kissed me at that New Year's Eve
a spectacle in pin up sleeves
We threw you in showers to wake you up
an overdose in terrible luck
that time you broke her rearview mirror
she called the cops, poured out your beer
but you were simply nothing more
than the perfectly fucked up adorable boy
you hit my sister after you hit a vein
get sick of all her cried complaints
just leave him please and change your locks
screaming in streets for seventeen blocks
you never knew just when to stop
but your heart has finally finished the job
you were making effort, checking in
paint my canvas with your skin
your mother with the impossible job
of making herself still believe in God
she's got the daughter who talks to televisions
shoots up turpentine, her mind a prison
the son who couldn't stop to think
of quitting it, for goodness sake
he was at a hundred and eight
when heart cooked brain
the spinal tap could not regain
the perfectly fucked up adorable boy
who will never be less, but could have been more

Addendum

I know dreams are like photographs, unless you're in them or someone's having sex, it's just not worth it, but whatever.

where the wild things are

Well good God I feel like shit. Seriously. I feel more depressed and worthless than I have in, well, since I originally got myself into this mess, I suppose. I wasn't going to write anything about it, thinking "who the hell in their right mind would want to read about you feeling like crap". Which is probably true, I know. But. If I don't write about it, I'll continue to think about it, and think about it, and think about it until my head explodes. Which will probably happen anyway, but at least I made the effort.

Here are the 'things'.
1. I am currently unemployed and searching for a new job. Which leads me to....
2. I have NO FUCKING MONEY BECAUSE I AM UNEMPLOYED.
3. I feel like I'm coming down with a cold.
4. The rest is just so trivial sounding compared to the first two, so I wont even go into them. But they're there. Oh, they're there, alright.

I had a dream whilst perfecting my depression (sleeping as many hours in one day as humanly possible) and the feeling is still sticking around.
I was being chased by someone that I know in real life but who played a completely different character in my dream. I'm actually going to be seeing him and his wife in an hour or so. I hope things don't turn out the same way they did in my dream... Anyway, I jump into this car to get away, ya know, 'cause I'm a bad ass, and as I'm driving through the streets I realize that it's a stick. I can drive a stick, I just don't know if I'd trust my shifting skills to get me out of immediate danger. But I was going like a bat out of hell and things seemed to be working out alright. I remember being amazed at how long I could not look at the road and still be okay. I get to my destination (some dilapidated old apartments) and have to scale the outside of the building to get to my window. I remember a feeling of such paranoia and fear. I get inside, make sure everything is locked, double check it, etc., and then enter a whole new problem. Now, I don't know if he was supposed to be a father figure type, but there was a man there with another woman (both of which I knew in this dream world). The man started in on me and how I wasn't being truthful about having over four weeks clean. AND HE WOULD NOT STOP. Now, coming back to reality for a moment, not many things in life irritate me more than when people don't believe me when I'm telling them something that I know in my heart of hearts to be true. Anyway, we get into a screaming match, I'm throwing things at him (this is completely unlike me. I opt for a more anger turned inwards, passive aggressive approach). He runs down stairs and I hear him rummaging through my suitcase. I knew there was a bottle of Rx anxiety medication that was rightfully prescribed to me and that I was taking according to the doctor's instructions. He found it and starts screaming at me that I've relapsed, that I'm a liar, yadda yadda yadda. While screaming my case to him, he realizes his mistake, turns to me and calmly says, "oh, so you really have been taking this as prescibed."

And it was Dorothy's house finally being dropped after being in the tornado. "oop".