Wednesday, April 29, 2009
I'm just gonna roll with this, so however you take it, take it like a man.
This morning as I took out my coke can rollers, eyes swollen from pollen, and just needing a few more minutes in the sack..... I thought "Hey, Pretty Girl".... "What's your f***in' plan?"
Well, I'm gonna get off my ass, and pursue what I want. I'm gonna go beyond my list of "to-do's."
So, I fluttered outside, cut some iris growing in my backyard, they are a sweet shade of lilac. I love them, they make me think of my mamaw. Man, they make me smile. And not a bullshit smile either, I mean, a genuine smile.
Dogs, Haircuts, Pilate's. Wednesday.
My super secret ninja plan?
It's gonna be straight out of "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly."
Mr. Eastwood is jumping out of me and right on your face. Cause I'm doing something about it.
Yeah, sugar lured me right back in, but apparently, it's time for a garage sale, and Mama's gonna make some bucks off denying that WANT. Cause that's all it is. A want.
A human, fleshy, WANT.
And, that just ain't me.
From this point, anything I deem "unhealthy'' is out the door. I have written several eviction notices for certain feelings, foods, and vices.
Did you notice? The eyes in that beast? Driven.
On the cusp of a full body, multiple orgasm.
Surely, you can relate to that feeling. Sheets wet, son. Wet.
I've been on the verge of said earth shattering orgasm, and today, Oh man, I'm having it.
With that said, I'm drinking as much water as I can hold to rehydrate my system.
After a release like that, your system needs more.
So get off, or get out.
I'm on top from now on.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Listen, how is it true a girl like me hasn't been fishin'? I will tell you why. I have been on good intentioned "fishin" trips. Layed in a boat, sat on a dock, line dropped. The man folk have disguised this as, er, snipe huntin' trip. Honest to goodness. One trip I had taken with a boy I ended up with out any tan lines. Another time, just a really good make out session. I think that's it. You wanna go on my boat? Yes, Mr. Hendrix. Please.
I'm drained today.
If you're such an open book, how come you're so hard to read?
I know this next line, will be admired, and appreciated for the truth it contains. Is it acceptable to put yourself into debt to further yourself? When do the risks outweigh the reality?
I need to sit on the back porch and do shots. That'll give me clarity. I shoot straight liquor, hold on, I'm adding some juice for you.
I would love to hide under the refrigerator with the dust bunnies.
Again, is what's good for the goose, good for the gander?
Go ahead, tell me your work schedule. Let me feel unintentional.
The director tried his best. Frazzled. Pointing, and shouting. I threw the bottle up against the wall, and threw a 5 star fit. He yanked the magnolia out of my hair, and grabbed my wrist. "You know what?" "If you ever show your ass like that again, I, I, just don't know what I'm gonna do!"
(Can Josh draw me a map to cut through Savannah to see you?)
(I can taste the mimosa's right now.)
My eyes were like daggers when I sat in the easy chair. I lifted my legs over the side.
He said, "Girl, I don't know what to do with you." I laughed. My response? "Son, you ain't gotta do nothin' with me." "Why do you buck like a horse when all I want is to hold you?"
I looked at him and said, "You can't cage a wild bird."
I started my bathwater. Sat on the edge of the tub. I said bible verses out loud, and told secrets to the ghosts in the room. Ghosts of lovers. Past and present. I quoted books I have memorized, and knew exactly the feeling Shakespeare tried to convey through Mecrutio.
You may have bought me satin sheets, but I wouldn't dare lay in them.
The dogs prefer them, cool to their skin.
Back to my lack of value. Or what I create. I didn't want to walk out of the house today. Champ told me I didn't have to go. We sat and had a discussion on economics, and he encouraged me to get out. I said, just one more cup of coffee? No, there's doughnuts to be made lady.
Maybe I will. Just take the plunge. Like those old Crystal Light commercials?
My circumstance. Mine. When I grow proud of something, I lose it. Examine it. Inventory how it made me feel. You? Seem to move right along. Lost your job? Oh well, let me find someone to sleep with so I don't have to struggle. Isn't that a sign of struggle? Holding on to whatever comes your way? How come my struggle is so obvious? Isn't the above a sign of self destruction? No, it looks healthy. Bc, society tells us so. The normal is the ugly. Word.
(Cue to Common rapping.)
Scared yet? You should be.
Daylight come and me wanna go home.
Do you believe in signs? Not the movie. M. Night, Mr. Gibson, please step out of my spotlight. Mr. Phoenix, you can stay right there. I like you. And your beard. And I love your rapping. You remind me so much of myself after too much moonshine. Come here, let me adjust your sweat band. There, all better.
I'm gonna call this lady Ms. D. She is fabulous. Not everyone is nice to her, bc, she's different. She takes patience to talk to. I love her. Before she left me, she said, can I tell you a story?
Of course you can. All ears.
Sweetheart, I had woke up with a thought this morning, and I can't stop thinking about it. (She's an older lady, and absolutely has her wits) I received a letter in the mail, (tell me more) it was from a man that my husband and I had been friends with for years. She started crying. (I grabbed the tissues) He had been divorced. He never remarried. She said, as she took off her sunglasses, the letter said how he had been in love with her over the years. I just hugged her neck. Paula, he's dead. He died before the letter got to me. The tears started pouring out. She said, he had loved me all this time. And he told me, and is now dead. What do I do? (She is a widow)I told her to look for closure. She might as well slapped my face.
Can you imagine having feelings for someone and not telling them?
I pretty much felt busted. (sans Jessi Jeffrey solo)
I don't know which part grabbed me the most.
A. This man loved her, and kept it to himself.
B. He died before she got to respond.
So, I don't know if you got to read yesterday's post, but it seems like a genius follow up to what transpired today.
And as soon as I was driving back from Waffle House, that song was playing.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Here's the deal pickle. I have always loved even numbers. The even numbers, have always seemed more attractive to me. And what am I now? An odd number. 1. Just one. I went out to lunch after church, you know, the normal, with mama and daddy. My sister and her family.
We have 7. Another odd number. Hang out with Landa and her crew? Again, 5. Even another odd number. So, maybe, I should start a hot love affair with odd numbers. They seem to pay more attention than the even ones.
I looked down the pew this morning. You guessed it. More odd numbers.
Which spawned, what about the forgotten? You know who. The ones you assume that are just pleased as punch. Because they are alone. Because, they have so many pressures. Real or imagined. Maybe they don't live alone. Maybe they, live in a full house, but somehow feel left behind.
Or, the misconception on being on your own, like, something must be wrong with them. You know, mentally. Or, if she would just lose that weight.
How 'bout liftin' people up for a change? That's a great idea.
What about calling someone who is just on your mind?
These lepers, that we all assume that are the ones with issues.... Do you know how many times I have heard, such phrases as, appreciate what you have. Healing takes time. You can do it.
Well, for one, Godblessed right I can do it. And have done it. And will continue to kick ass, but not take names, the ones who you have said ass kicked, are the ones you forget. To move forward.
You want me, to appreciate what I have? Fuck you. With that said, you are the type to bitch at whoever you live with bc they didn't do whatever you wanted them to do however you wanted them to do it. Fuck you sir.
You know the part in the bible about being a willing servant? That's me.
I get aggravated. Sure.
But, I can smile when I do things I don't want to do.
Do you really think I love it when Champ can't hold his bladder? No, I can't get mad at him. He has a tiny bladder. He has very special medical needs. Do you think I get mad that I can't just tell him to get down just because I'm laying on the couch? I'm too lazy to get up? Never. Cause, my boy could get hurt. He can't hear, and that's not his fault. Anyone else would have beat him half to death. I see him for what he is. Special. He takes such a measure of patience that Job couldn't measure. That's why, he's mine. I can handle major levels of intensity.
Healing takes time? It sure does brother. I'm not scared of it. Or the process. Sometimes it's the waiting.
Listen, all I'm getting at is, I am not the type to take for granted. Understand?
I am exceptional.
I embrace a kind of honesty, that shatters people. Why? Bc, there's nothing like in the world to be able to face how you feel. And know why. There's nothing like feeling relief.
Like drinking the biggest alka-seltzer out there.
Here's my question, my sweet, why not reach out?
1. The rejection. Cool. I know that bitch. Push ya down the steps in your heels, she will.
2. Embarrassment. You know what, Pal? It's fleeting. The last embarrassing thing I did?
I don't remember. It was that earth shattering. ( It usually turns into an endearing memory.)
3. Pride. Didn't think I would mention it? Mine still has guns blazing. It does it's best to act like
A1 steak sauce, it just tells you it's that important. ( A good steak doesn't need steak sauce.)
4. The pain? Ok, this is where I slip you the dry wiener. (Thank you Steve. More on that later.)
You can recover. You can battle that Ogre.
It's the not knowing. For most. Like Shelane said last night, your boobs look good. She did say that, but she also said, Paula, if I could just know, I would feel better. My heart sank lower than low. And I could empathize with her.
All I could think was, how I wanted to just get in bed with you and fall asleep. Not with Shelane. The one I wish that were reading this.
Pastor Bob rang my chimes as if I were Gomer Pyle and the Sargent had put a metal bucket on my head beating it with a huge spoon.
He said, there's nothing wrong with being different.
What? I lifted my head off of Rachel's shoulder. ( my sister)
Being different is something to strive for.
Last night, I woke up with a charlie horse. It was so painful, I mean, I tried to wake up. It hurt, really bad. So badly, I remember talking out loud. I was still asleep, I was in that state of sleep that you feel as if your eyes are covered in super glue. It made me wonder, I may be sleeping hard, but, my body is in full force. Active. Can you get a charlie horse from sleeping?
Rachel, also brought up a woman at church that has encouraged me my entire life.
She said, Paula, she suffers from anxiety and depression. That's why she hasn't been here to church for the past few months. Or gone to work. My lip quivered. I busted out in tears. My heart went into the depths of hell when she said that. I understand. Relate. Empathize. Not to discount, you know the possible forgotten? I could hear my heart beating in my ears. That's why I had to lay my head on Rachel' s shoulder.
Being dragged behind a team of horse's would have made me feel better.
Tenderhearted. To the hilt.
The tears layed in my eyelids. And just like little suicide bombers, they crashed down.
I hate anxiety. I hold mine in. That's when I pay.
I beg myself to stop it.
I went to the alter this morning. I said one little prayer.
Please continue to lift me up. And show me how to lift others up as well.
That's my burden. For you.
Is this is like a goose feather filled pillow? Comfy, but the feathers poke you?
Friday, April 24, 2009
Not that I'm this raging horoscope planning person. I will so read that shit though.
Then, read my devotional for the day. Or 2. And send them to you.
You know alot about me, don't you? The Dorothy side. The Wicked Witch of the West side.
It's ok. I just died in the middle of the street. The street sweeper will come through soon. What? They get paid to do it. Might as well let the man do his job.
Usually, if you talk like you know what people are asking questions about, they seem to believe you.
Who doesn't love Eric Stoltz?
This is for the ones who love to talk shit. To make themselves feel just a little bit better?
You may even read this and wonder... is this about me? It's so not. I would have told you.
Stop with the paranoia. I take time to process things. That's me. And then, I think about it.
After that, I let it crawl under my skin. During that time, I allow my emotions to run wild like a wild jungle cat. Not surprised huh? If you know me, you know this about me.
It may be one of your favorites.
This part of me, may exhaust you to the point of no return. Frazzled.
This part of me, may fascinate you so much, there's a journal under the corner of the bed about it. Yeah, it's in the top right corner. I know your superstitions.
This part of me, may be the reason we can't be friends. Or communicate. Or encourage each other.
This part of me, may stop you dead in your tracks, like a beautiful woman you see out in the sunlight.
However I effect you. Good or bad.
I do. I love every part of you. I really dig the imperfect part of you. It gives me great comfort.
Like that time I realized, hey, that person is human, and I helped you gingerly off the pedestal I had put you on. Changed me from the Beast, into the Beauty. ( Favorite story )
Remember when we joke about your jealousy? Of my life? Then, you tell me, sorry, I didn't mean that. It's cool. It's how you feel. You can't sneak out of this glass house. I think about,
just how, I've been there. And covet you, in return.
Hell, I tell my deaf dog stories. He listens. It's uncanny. Our connection. But you can't stay locked up in the house, telling the deaf dog stories all the time. How was he made so perfectly?
I had written on my other blog. The one you don't read. I haven't ever told you about it.
That all you need is love,
The grass isn't always greener on the other side,
Give up control,
Jesus loves me.
That's true. Every line. I don't know much baby, but that's gold.
I examined why you say things they way you do. You can't be like me. You couldn't even emulate it if you tried. He said, I like art. Really? Cause I love it. (snippy)
Listen, I'm trying hard to work out the kinks. Out of sheer brilliance. Method to the madness. My light shined just a little bit brighter today.
You may look over at your date, and think, I could sleep with her, but that's all.
I run past the rabbit checking his watch. He thinks that he's late? I'm month's behind.
Catching up with Alice.
I have absolutely no salt to be a snob. Cause I'm plain. No, I like that. I dig simple. If you look close enough, I still have paint in my hair. I have a feeling, that's why you like me so much.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
First, grab one of those DVDs of Monsterquest from you know, The History Channel, flip it on, have a very brief discussion on which monster they may, or may not be looking for. ( Angie, I do not believe in RODS.)
Second, as you get them almost interested in that crap, pull out a pea. Yes, a pea. Grab the three cups from the floor. Cup 1, cup 2, cup 3. (Hold other 2 peas in pocket)
Third, just start talking. about anything. Discuss why as a little girl the color grey made you throw up. Ramble on about why the string thingy's on the end of the rug HAVE to be in order. Ask them both if they have ever thought about life after death. Now that's a good one.
During the talking, ramblings of Monsterquest in the background, move said cups, round and round, throwing in the other peas, under each separate cup. Follow? Good.
This is very important. Look them in the eye. It will freak them out, probably give them a good flashback of the first time they ever had sex with that dirty little prostitute, or with his best friend's mother's and her gin breath.
Whatever. Continue with the cups, rearranging, striking matches, have The Dark Side of The Moon playing too. ( People get freaked out around a scarecrow )
Finally, just let the cat out of the bag, we like you, but we don't like how you eat all our oreos.
The DVD is over anyway, and I ate all the peas, so, it's time to go, as you hand them their complimentary cup of fruit punch, as they walk out the door, Whitney Houston will be laying on the hood of the car, singing I Will Always Love You......
I told you. This is a true story. Any questions?
Good, I'm exhausted anyway, and I can't come out from underneath the bed for at least, 20 hours. Whitney is looking for me. Crazy bitch.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
That's a lie. I love them all equally. (And no matter what Mike D says, I give them all equal amounts of marshmallows in their hot chocolate.)
Here's something from him that shakes me down.
It's about the song, Live Wire.
I wrote this song about two people. One was this kid I only met a
couple of times, but he just seemed so cool, the other was for my
best friend Dave Scilken and other friends past present and future.
It's hard to know what to do when you love someone who's drug
problem is out of control....
I know where you got to be going but you don't know why
I see things I ought not to know but I can't help life
You never knew my heart for you was monster size
You're a live wire
Let me know if you want to check out for the all time high
My man told me long hellos and short good byes
But you are something else I love you please don't lie
You're a live wire.
Now, I don't know a soul who suffers from a drug problem. I know people who are "suffering" in their own right though. Ones I love, ones who slip through my fingers, ones who live so far away. Even the ones, I don't like so much.
So are you ready to discuss something kind of uncomfortable? I am. I hate confrontation. Let's start with that little gem. But, you know, there are times, it's necessary. Unavoidable.
In order to move forward. Stuck in a moment? Ever been there? It sucks, and not just a U2 song. Yeah, someone else had a stuck in a moment song, but that's the only one I can think of.
Have you ever just HAD to do something? Your guts won't let you rest until you come clean about it. It's not anything bad. I'm sure your Pastor or therapist would wholeheartedly agree with that statement. It's ok, I can wait here, til you check. Er, it actually tells you so in that book on your shelf.
Maybe I'm it. What is that? Compulsion? Conviction? Melted together. Then, it's easier to let it go. Because you know the answer then. You have the clarity to know HOW to feel. Ha!
Bull by the horns. (Cue now to Bossa Nova 60's music)
Next question. When does it feel right?
Don't play golden retriever with me. You know what. The action.
Of doing so.
What you need to do to move on?
Right. Right. I gotta just decide. Or see more crows. Or push it a little deeper.
My opinions shouldn't be rejected because no one likes me. BC, I'm pretty, or smart, or so fucking right on, it even scares YOU!(The fearless)(Confident)
I suffer? To make you feel better?
The above, had been my penance.
My ideal? A man who can play a little air piano to The Who. That's who.
Who's coming to dinner. Who's on first.
Those are statements. Not, questions.
Exactly, who do you invest in? The ones who like you? The ones who you can't possibly force yourself to listen to? No, I'm not a narcissist. I have. Substance. I'm a good girl. I'm such an open book. Easy to read. My emotions pour out of my face. Which, I've learned to accept.
I have short legs. I have thicker legs for a thin girl. I guess boys like that. Right?
I felt bad. I did. We sat at Market Square, and Jenn had made a statement about a song. So and so sings this song. Not that, I know everything about music, but I corrected her before I realized what was coming out of my mouth. I sat back in my chair, kind of ashamed of myself.
That's my reality. I find myself, all know it all-y.
It's just like Jeopardy. I don't always say the right answer, but I always answer.
I'm freaky deaky at Jeopardy. You didn't know that did you? Or Wheel of Fortune.
You can thank my Mamaw.
My whole Jenn story? Is that I usually just know things.
So when does it feel right? It's very close. Get ready.
Coincidence? No, no, no. Not real. Choices. God's hand. The end.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Well, two people live here. My girlfriend, Miranda, is still working at the slaughterhouse. Well, it's not a legal slaughterhouse, and Randy, that's what we call her for short, should be here soon....
Later in my morning, coffee incident. On the couch, under the couch. Madness. Dogs were beat. Ok, ok, dogs were kenneled.
Then, the Jehovah's Witness came to call. Serious.
I was kind to the lady, thanked her, and took her literature.
It's great to read everything, that way you have some kind of knowledge on whatever.
On to the store. Driving down the driveway. Crow. Flew up to the branch.
I had a shiver down my back.
I sat in the car, finished listening to Dave Matthews that I barely caught, I smiled.
Opened my car door, flew right into the truck beside me. My heart sank. I was able to talk to the people. The man rubbed the red paint off his gold truck. He said, don't worry. I was relieved!!!
Can it get any better than this?
Funny, I am in a great mood. Relatively.
I got to thinking today. About my family. My girlfriends. Every ones burdens. It just haunts me. You know those commercials with the everyday people with capes on? Is that true?
I'm about to head downtown. I want to catch a movie. Nothing special, just want to be alone. I think. Barley's has 2 dollar pints.
So, I wonder, how much different is your reality from mine? Not a lick. All of us are bogged down. Did you know the Dandridge library is closed on Tuesday? Of course it is.
Too windy to go walking. Sensitive ears.
Pete Higgs, once again, gave me an unbelievable haircut. The man helps me look bangin'.
You could send him a thank you card, and no, I don't think that would be awkward.
Scott Miller plays this Saturday, and it makes me lose my mind. He's my favorite.
Ok, I didn't go downtown. I went to the store, bought some beer. Those little 8oz. Pony beers? Miller Hi-Life? Perfect. Grabbed some nachos, and relaxed.
It wasn't dark just yet, so I put on my boots, stuffed my jeans in the sides, grabbed my camera, off to the woods. Ladybird was R-O-C-K-I-N!!!! She was captivated by my willingness to follow her. It was dusk-y. The sunset was amazing. The colors were purple, orange, and yellow.
I could see the zinc mines through the tree line. We crawled under fence rows, to get a better view of the sunset. Bugbites. Sat on rocks, I took pictures. I thought about nothing. It was nice.
The sun sank low, right over the horizon.
What about downtown? Well, there wasn't a movie playing I wanted to see. Texas Chainsaw Massacre played over the weekend. The original. That one scares me. I ended up having a better night to myself. At home. In the woods. The cats and I sat on a rock.
You didn't know I had cats? Well, they are feral cats. Feral barn cats. Until feeding time. Ok,ok, they're not really feral. They do hide out mostly. Low profile.
I like my dogs better than the cats..... I love the cats, don't get me wrong... but the kitties would eat me if I layed dead for a few days. Dogs? Will lay down and die for you. And mourn for you.
Tonight, between the eating of the nachos, and drinking of the beer, I had a thought. My friend had said, why do bad things happen to good people? (I smell good, btw.) She said, really good people, like you, (flattered) go through battles. I don't know why. I don't know why she thinks I'm such a good person. I mean, I try to be humble. I prefer it.
The song I sang in the woods? Shush girl, shush your lips. Do the Helen Keller, and talk with your hips. I said, shush girl, shush your lips, do the Helen Keller, and talk with your hips.
Monday, April 20, 2009
This person has backed me through many asinine ideas, ploys, plots, and has also set things on fire with me. Do you smell smoke? Yes, Betty, Where there's smoke, there's fire.
It's Angie. It's so Angie. I can come up with so many ideas of destruction and nightmarish outcomes, she's along for the ride, if not pulled along the ground by my raging horses of intent. Yes, just like the Hounds of Hell.
Snapping at your heels, just about to catch you.
Read any good fortune cookie thingys lately?
Here are two found. Randomly.
You will make many changes before settling satisfactorily.
Focus on your long-term goal. Good things will soon happen.
So even though you're still trying like hell to throw me under the bus. I forgive you. It's the right thing to do. I don't lose sleep over it. I comprehend that we have nothing to gain from each other. It's not like you read this. He said to write it out. Or email it. Longhand. That's my shizzy. I like classic. I like to be remembered. I also like to go out in a big ball of flames. Jealous? You should be.
I love how you drove your guilt into the ground. You knew exactly where I would look.
Are you just so lonely?
Let me reiterate. I'm just not that lonely yet.
Read carefully, I would rather drive the 10 billion miles, or fly down to Tx, which I am not a good flier, and you know my anxiety issues, I would rather drive the 4 hours to Possum Holler and back again, get in my Cruella DeVille car and drive to Arden, just to let you know, I have true friends. Who love the fuck out of me. They welcome me with such open arms, they know the things that have transpired over the past year, were not my fault. Understand? Not my fault. Yeah, I'm damaged. I'm a goshdarned dalmatian!!!!(beautiful dogs, temperament issues)
They dig my paranoia, or neediness, or positive nature when it comes to call. It's not my bag that you can't comprehend the absolute message behind The Beatles.
Cause it's true. All You Need Is Love.
Off my soapbox.
Here's the Sunday rundown. I didn't get up for church. Which hardly ever happens. I slept. If sleep is coming to me, I want to embrace it. Those days and nights of torment have been over for the past little bit. The dogs and I layed on the couch, drank coffee, talked to Bev, raised the windows, took a deep breath, and watched Great Expectations.
Isn't it funny, how just a little, means alot? A little look. A little encouragement. A little sunshine? I love those imperfections. It breeds opportunity.
I love that part too. Where you start to wake up? Eyes fluttering? Not ready to focus. Close them a few more minutes. I knew it.
I just got up and started drawing. Sans coffee.
Eyelashes stuck together.
The biggest piece of sketch paper I could find.
It felt like a post-it note.
Sometimes, when given very little to work with,
that's when it gushes.
I was created to do more. Feel more. Find more, Believe more.
Spread my wings just a little bit farther.
My ears perked. The drive kicked in. My skin felt new.
You knew before I did.
This is the problem. When does satisfaction come full circle? There are times I pray, it never does. I can continue to desire more. The solution may never resolve. Contradiction? All around. It never leaves.
There's nothing wrong with being who you are.
Even the most tortured. The gifted. The accepted and condemned.
If I do something special, I do it for me. Cause I'm it. Self sufficient in the glass house. The wall I painted? Your interpretation will be different. I feel moved. You may feel a tinge of strings pulled in your heart.
Recognize the catalyst?
Like a snuffed out candle.
Sometimes, I feel like an old Victorian house. Pretty in it's own way. As is. It needs work. Drawing in people who would be the last to discover it. Or, I love people like me. Who like to dive in, but runs like hell when something may be difficult or scary. Go ahead, show your badge of honor. Me? Run? Me? Scared? Outta your mind. Ok, you may have a purple heart, but, can you maintain the honor?
My breathing is even different. My breathing is even different!!!!
It's so surreal. I could be so small, and lay in the corner of your eye, I set my tiny hand on your eyeball. It looked so glassy. I couldn't help but to want to touch it.
Have you ever been in a situation where, you wanted to do something, but your fear held you back? Trying to sort it out, discern what the right choice would be?
Like a glass of milk. Rich.
I could feel the fish biting. The inside of it's mouth. Suckling.
Destined to be ordinary? No. The kind of woman who couldn't be let down.
Is it literal? Do you know me? It's abstract. The colors outside the lines.
The crow in the road, or driveway, or on The Simpsons.
You can tell it's the same one, it has the little scarf on.
I'm pretty sure I had an epiphany between the sheets last night. You're right, it's not as nasty as it sounds. I rolled over, held the dog...... where's the dog? You can't yell for a deaf dog. He was on the couch. I shivered. Out of the cold? I had plenty on. I grabbed the little dog, he was not interested in my cuddling needs.
Right there, is my epiphany. I only want someone to cuddle with. Who smells good. Like, the back of their neck smells good. Ed always smelled good. It was his bald head though. Ed, also, is the only man who could understand my sleeping habits. I sleep ALL over the bed. Generally. When I'm in sleep turmoil. We lived in this duplex, the stairs didn't have a rail.... I woke up there one night. He carried me to bed. He found me asleep in the bathtub once. Then vowed to never let me bathe alone again. I always had to wait for him to get home. I think that was his favorite things about me. The whole tub bath thing. It seemed like that was the time we could communicate most effectively. He would tell me things that I hadn't a clue about. I could listen all night. That's my spirit, tell me, cause I wanna know. Back to the sleeping thing, I wake up several times through the night, repositioning myself, I would lay on top of him, not dirty....it's just, that's where I could rest. He was also 6 foot something, and I'm a midget 5 foot something.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Somehow, people still seem intrigued. Cool. Maybe it's like a bad car wreck, you just gotta. Whatever it is, welcome cowboy. Er, or cowgirl. I like you both. In a platonic way.
Let me begin with The Fatmobile. This is a car I had back in the day.You could fit many a gay man, along with a dog or two, some great girls with wild imaginations, and you could even fit some good intentions in there too. It had a bitchin' tape deck. I was a mix master. Many a mix tape, stuffed in every nook and cranny of the thing. Some made by boyfriends with melancholy love songs, and their fear of rejection. The Fatmobile?
It was a true Pussy Wagon. Peeps always wanted a ride. I couldn't blame them. It flew. Back roads, shmackroads. I seemed to always be driving. Or stealin' beer from parties, Convincing my girlfriends to find more hell to raise.
Remember 4/20? It's coming up. The last 4/20 party I attended? I threw a Juggernaut. It may have been 2000. I lived in JC. In the house on the highway. Scott and I lived together. We had this whole crab boil going on. I didn't help cook. I may have been mowing the yard.
That house was amazing. It had a front porch with a swing. My bedroom had a huge window, and on the sides, there were two windows you could open, and I would go in in out onto the porch. You don't know what you got till it's gone.
Crab boil? Successful. We ate. We even went swimming that day.... I didn't swim, I just hung out with my thoughts. I guess my personality hasn't changed. I may be a little more outgoing.
Wait, I did help with the little red potatoes. I sliced them in half.
Cathartic. Speeding through like a train down the tracks. Metal scraping. Tracks flying apart. Wind blowing. Dog bites hurt. Badly. So does razor wire. Ok, so I don't know about razor wire.
Aww, shucks. Ain't that lonely yet. Remember that song? Somehow it's in my head. Who knows. Stuck in there. It's just that my dear. I just ain't that lonely yet. I read your email. It was just enough guilt, that It made me laugh. You knew a different person. Or the person you created me to be in your mind. Got it? There are 5 girls in my life who are my go tos, my bread and butter. My substance. The wind beneath my wings. (Insert laugh here. With one of those applause machines too.)
Mental block? You know those. Sneaky suckers. They try to dominate me. Ok, so they have, until my free will comes in and obliterates them like a Priest drives out the spirits from a demon possessed girl.
Ill communication. Brilliant album from the Beastie Boys. All time favorite band. Also, just something that happens.
Crow in the road. Amazing. Happened yesterday. Barreling down the highway, he just landed in front of me. I didn't hit it. Crows, are my favorite bird. I get the whole, scavenger thing. Vicious little critters. Ruthless. I love them. I have a connection with them. It's not as crazy as it sounds.
It was some kind of sign. Of what? I don't know. I love birds. Freaky bird lover. It has a lot to do with my spirit. Of what I am made of. So, stay tuned, I will keep you posted. Discernment is coming.
It is well with my soul. Familiar with that song? It was written out of great calamity and loss. Written by Horatio G. Spafford. There's not a word I could type, that would do it any justice. To tell the story.
Path less traveled, is the one I am on. Are you there too? Waiting on the side of the path. Maybe frozen. Or I was running too fast to recognize you. Or while I was smelling the flowers, you had already been there, so you couldn't wait.
Telling on myself.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
I didn't hear anything else. I smiled.
I played with my camel. Necklace. It's from India. My friends who were missionaries brought it back. The wife gave it to me before she died. They were teachers. If only I could have the gumption. Then again, who knows what God is going to cultivate me to be?
Back to Mr. Man and his settling abilities. He rambled about the money he makes, his job, and nothing else. Absolutely nothing else. His eyes were like marbles. I was one of those dolls that when you tip them back, they roll back. Eyes closed.
He didn't say, what about you? Misconception. About books. Nice cover. Boring inside.
It was just like limbo. How low can you go?
Yesterday, was freedom. Just like that song by Ween? Freedom of 76? Freedom of the body.... Freedom of the mind..... ok, not exactly like that song, cause it talks about ho's, but the first 2 lines are right on.
I did hang with ho's. Not really ho's. TDS, please don't be mad.... (Hammer, don't hurt 'em)
I had that tape. Mommy ho's. Mommy ho's that I love to pieces. Mommy ho's who are righteous mama's. From here on out, I will refer to them as righteous mama's. Maybe make them jackets. Come up with a unbelievable musical score that would rival CATS. yeah, I said it. Open wide for Chunky......
Lunch, was unforgettable. For me at least. I sat there and cataloged every second. I couldn't move fast enough. The glue dried before I could fix it. My girls chasing children, I was still in New Orleans, chasin' ghosts, runnin' through the gallows......
That's how it is. Right? The smallest shift can ruin your day. I received a letter with bad news, but actually turned into good news after a phone call...... It's overcast, but good weather is coming....
Back to yesterday. It was amazing. I was able to hang out with Sue. With her exceptional gaggle of children. She is amazing. All 4, were perfect. It was perfectly orchestrated, then I had a shiver down my back. I have just missed her.
It was like we have been talking over the past 10, 12 years. It felt like home. Then, my belly ached. That's normal. It ached bc I forgot how it felt to reconnect. To be vulnerable. Even to someone who has known me.
We talked. And relived moments. We cried. It was a Lifetime TV movie. I liked it.
On to more fun moments though. We laughed. Discussed everyone. The gloves are off. Everyone. I didn't even mind the cold.
I am even planning a trip to Possum Holler. That's not the true name, but that's what I'm gonna brand it. It would be like um, driving to Murfeesboro. Or Nashville. Not too far way, but enough.
I had to go home to the boys. They had been in their kennels long enough. Plus, I missed them.
Sue had seen right through me. Which makes her an even more righteous mama. She knew exactly what to say, and described how I exist to the T. She knew.
I didn't have any bad dreams last night. Thumbs up.
I did get scared last night though. I had gotten home, and it was super dark. I guess the porch light blew. Usually, I don't get scared at my house. I was walking in through the yard, and I looked over at the cherry tree, and it just looked different. I fell on the step. I dropped all my stuff. Stupid. I just left it there so I could get inside.
When I got in, I sat on the kitchen floor. I coulda called Daddy. I ended up washing my face, took the dogs out, and even though, I really needed a shower, I had scared myself silly. I couldn't. I don't remember getting into bed, but that's where I woke up. It was cold!!! I kept my socks on.
I'm usually not scared. Is that a sign of PMS? Preemptive strike maybe.
This morning, I met a dog that looks like Chris the Dog. Chris the Dog was my boxer who passed away in March of 07. He was a red fawn, flashy boxer. Paws white, like little socks. Beautiful flashy chest. Dark muzzle. Bare bits of white on his face. Flashy is when they have predominately white markings. I guess that makes Champ, super flashy. (Right on the money, honey.)
Speaking of honey, don't knock this till you try it....... I had a peanut butter and banana and, you guessed it, honey sandwich last night. That may be all I need to get by. At least for now.
Good things are coming. I can feel it. Not in a burning belly, I'm on fire kinda way, but, well, I kinda feel it. I almost see your face outside the window.
She said, Paula, you need someone to chase you. I still don't know what that means.
Maybe after call, we could split some wine. And I could get pulled over, going 50 through Dandridge. (I love your mustache..... been on the force long?) ha.
I saw Brian the other night, and he was asking me about alpacas. Beautiful, majestic, animals. I thought, how odd, I guess we talked about it extensively at some point. He asked me a bunch of questions, and, right on cue, I let it all pour out like water....... from a pitcher. The girl he was with, was really into it too, she asked me questions like I was an instructional video.
That's why I was crowned Miss Bullshit. If you read about everything, you become an automatic entertainer. And, I guess people remember all the mindless bullshit you spout out.
Things I need to retain? Forget it. It's in there. Right next to that awesome video of the squirrel water skiing.
Have you ever seen a werecat? I did. Along with Sue. We are witnesses. What's a werecat? That's like, asking what Krispy Kreme is. Fine. A werecat, is a huge cat that eats your soul and anything else that comes it's way. Just don't make eye contact. Just don't.Am I right on time? Is today the day?
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Champ sure rang the bell @ 5. I turned the light on, pointed to the bed, and had my mean mama face on. He can't take whippins. They scare the tar outta him. He did the whole Snoopy - circle my area - before - I - lay - down - thing, and cuddled so close to me, I threw my arm around him. Around his huge chest. We got up @ 7. Looked out the window. I shrugged my shoulders. The boys were in full agreement.
It never fails. When I leave my phone in the other room to charge. Someone texts me through the night. The beep wakes me up. It's ok. It's some kind of law.
I get to spend time with an amazing group of girls today. It's gonna be bitchin'. No haircut today. I had to compromise. Meet in the middle. You know the song.
Wore out. For really no reason. I didn't endure any nightmares yesterday. Er, except for running into rock n' roll hoochie coo, questioning the abilities of my baybay making machine parts. She was so shocked I hadn't squirted out any children. She's the one who should be ashamed. Pirating money from her baybay daddy. Check. You read correctly. Who's the whore? You are.
We could play, duck, duck, whore. You would so win.
I would continue not to be jealous of your insecurities.
Mine are deep under a rock somewhere in the cemetery. That's right. Right along with Olympia Dukakis. Don't you dare touch my steel magnolia's!!!!
The secret is to soak 'em in buttermilk.
The thunder rolls. But it doesn't hurt me. Still sleepy. Excited about today. Maybe not sleepy, just afflicted with allergies. It's cool. Bring on the Benadryl.
Lent is over. Is the sugar ban? For the most part. I don't have to be so harsh on myself. But I also know I can say no! Whoo hoo!!! I, Paula, can say no to sugar.
I had some sweet stuff yesterday, and of course, my body begins the rebellion.
Slice of cake? No thanks.
Your true feelings? Did the epiphany's roll out onto your pillow last night? Mine are nestled neatly on my bed. Warmly anticipating for me to cradle them and listen.
Frank!! It's raining again. It's a perfect day for hiding under the comforter and making a fort in the living room. Or make your couch an island.
We're losin' daylight people!!! Let's make magic!!!!
I've heard that before.
Did you know someone dies of rabies every 10 minutes in America? It's true.
You take the good, you take the bad, you take it all and there you have, the facts of life.
The facts of life.
Hoochie coo also remarked on how short my shorts were. Listen, I had worn them out to the store, just for a fleeting second.
Duck, duck, whore.
At least I had a bra on. At least my puppies are hangin' high. Go ahead. Look.
We all know people like that. Right?
I look amazing in shorts.
P.S. And I have an amazing bikini waxer. Take that hoochie coo.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Or, a magicians assistant. They wear fishnets most of the time. Rockin. I'm not tall enough to be a Vegas showgirl. I've got short legs. I don't really like heels.
I did date that guy that looked suspiciously enough like Dave Grohl. We stopped dating abruptly, bc, he had a girlfriend. She was like a crazy spider. Hair flying, arms wavin. I kinda laughed to myself.
We met in The Old City. I had been reading a book, drinking water. My friend just opened her salon.
You're eating too much bacon. You're too picky. Why are you waiting? If you turn the key too fast, the key might break. Obviously. Just be still. The truth is relative. Not so. It's easy to believe the truth is open for interpretation.
I had a great time Saturday, laughing at your jokes, acting like a complete jack ass. You then said, I just can't understand you. Perfect. Just as I planned.
Turns out, there's great hiking to be enjoyed on Easter Sunday. No one is out. Also, there's no one to report you missing either. I couldn't tell you because I knew you would lose your shit and jump my ass. (Rightly so.) Church was awesome and exactly what I thought it would be. My heart did bottom out later in the afternoon.
Yeah, I'm that brave. It's true, you didn't give me the credit I deserve.
I ran through the sheets just like in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. BUT, it wasn't Leatherface that was trying to cut me into a million pieces. It was my own shadow. My heart was beating out of my chest. Just like a grizzly bear catching fish out of the river. Almost.
Great Jake Gyllenhaal.
My dream last night? Was about being smothered to death with a pillow. I woke up swinging. I half expected not being able to get up. Invisible.
My boar dream? On the phone with Angie, walking on that old road in JC. One boar chasing me. Then, I ended up running up by my house. Boar still charging me. The boar following me into the house. Ripping it apart.
I drink my juice, take my vitamins. These, are my dreams?
Or colors. I miss dreaming like that. The vivid colors. Mostly hot pink.
When the lights go out, we're all pink on the inside.
That my dear is from an ex-boyfriend of mine, who, thought that was a great pearl of wisdom.
He was half right.
I'm just not feelin' it. There. I said it. I could probably live underneath the tile floor in your bathroom. Just below your feet.
All I need? Is your ear. So, you could be just like Van Gogh. And have just one ear. That's enough. Oh, and a mouth is helpful. You know, to reply. Just as I cocked my head to the side, I listened.
It was almost like you had written the script word for word. That's exactly why I'm picky. Solving that great riddle in the backseat of the jeep, legs thrown out of the window. Kissing you makes me feel like a great big void. So please stop. See? I used my manners.
Being honest has almost killed me. Honesty wears a huge sombrero. Discretion. I lost mine. Have I not learned by now? There are posters being made as we speak.
He said, I love your shoes. The truth is, I'm barefoot.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
No. Plucked the eyes right out.
The dream? Aquarium.
My shoes didn't fit. And I'm disappointed. Yeah. I tried others on, and they were just as confining. Tight. My feet couldn't breathe. Thank you for opportunity.
Using those manners, southern gal. Would you care for more sweet tea?
I went to a Seder meal last night, and it was amazing.
Church, over all, is.
I sat there, listening, reading along, repeating what parts were mine, and I had invasions.
Invasions of a friend that kind of looked dark. In the heart. Repenting during Communion, sweeping my rooms.....
My Pastor at the end of service on Sunday morning, has an invitation. To pray. To come to Jesus. He always asks, if you died today, would you go to heaven?
These thoughts, of dark horses, and my Pastor, collided.
Do you do it for the game? Or you're just supposed to.....
Do you do it for the love? Or for recognition.
Do you pretend for the sake of your children?
With her words, she shook me last night. All I was doing? Sitting on the couch.
And she called me miserable.
All I could ask, would you share a bottle of wine after church?
I told Walt the reason. Why do I look so young? I pack myself in ice overnight.
You know, slow down the blood flow.
Play hobo? Just draw a fake beard. Like that show on Adult Swim.
The Eric and somebody else show. I didn't pay attention.
She then called me out, on my analyzing. I can't help that.
Pray it away?
I got pissed. My scalp was burning. That's when I know, something gets at me.
I said, What's the use in effin' praying? I said that. Out loud.
I don't know what made me feel worse.
Even with The Holy Spirit sitting right there.
The frustration is digging at me. But I was also tired.
The last long dose of sleep was Sunday.
I can't sleep like a lamb at my little house nestled in the woods?
No, I did sleep through, with a beautiful toddler, rustling under foot.
Not my toddler.
(not that cow)
Abby even sat on the couch with me, and I snoozed. Till 11ish.
Sometimes, I am so jealous. And I covet.
Like when, someone hands me a pile of money, and doesn't think twice about it. Or, when I see a girl with clear skin, and a cute body. Pick myself apart, hello, vanity. Or why my hair isn't blond? Or question the motive. I'm ok, though. I have pretty brown hair. With blue eyes. Sucker. And freckles. And I'm small. Open my eyes so I may see....
Even I said, there's relief coming. Right after Easter. I know it. I don't. I should believe it. If something is planted in my heart. Shouldn't I ride the tide?
Is that real fear? No, there are only a small amount of things I fear and carry it around with me.Will it kill me? I am letting it, take me hostage though. I don't know anything. I feel it. Rumbling. I just died in your arms tonight. It's probably the thunderstorm. The lightening? Icing on the cake. Revelation?
Champ scared the bojangles outta me. It was dark. The moon came through my navy curtain just right. He glowed in the dark! Even though, I knew, it was him, I still struggled with the light switch.....
Fill up my heart.
When we get by, God has already fulfilled a promise.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
So I sat down on the dock of the bay, (where the watermelons grow), (Is that Otis Redding?), and tried to understand. I thought, if you give me an inch, I will give a yard.
All this time, while Cher plays in the background, I reevaluate our friendship. And the beast it turned into.
I am so glad you live so far away. You always turned into my crutch. Then when you called Monday, I was kicked smack dab on my rear when you asked " How are you sleeping? "
That could have been a rhetorical question. Easily.
Derailing the train?
I like what the caterpillar turned into. This butterfly?
We may not talk every week, but at least, once a month.
I was wrong about the full moon. It may be Thursday.
I mentioned five and a deuce. And to unplug.
Long for the warm weather, even in my shyness, bursting full of confidence.
I've kinda always been that way. A walking paradox? Is that the right phrase?
Kelly sings in 2 weeks. I love her. She's amazing. I can't wait.
She mentioned to Shelane about us becoming roommates, and Shelane just about choked.
She said, Paula can't have a roommate. Much less two.
She loves us, but she just couldn't do it. She would suffocate.
Ha. Imagine me with a roommate. It would be the laugh, or storm of the century.
Remember that movie? George Clooney was brutally handsome.
The ship goes down.
I just couldn't jive with the ulterior motives.
I can't afford it.
Pain in confession, When we confess, we have to move from it.
Embarrassment is fleeting.
Mama's little vacuum.
I'm not a mind reader, but I suppose I could train.
Is there a course?
A card to go by?
Let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season, we shall reap if we do not lose heart.Galatians 6:9
Here I am, at my peak, and empty handed.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
I'm not sick, just under the weather.
So under the weather, that I am buried deep in the sand.... along with the baby turtles that mama turtle squirted out late last night.
I guess I could survive in the dryer for a few minutes. On second thought, it's a horrible idea, seeing that I know what it does to a cat. I'm not much bigger.
Rachel said, you need to eat, piling up spoonfuls of food..... I thought, I did.
Spiritual food is what I crave right now.
I strain so desperately to hear His words, it frightens me.
Pray. Sit. Wait.
I picture this huge waiting room, with me sitting, reading a book on how to build a sailboat.
You know, so I can set sail?
Rachel means well.
I mean well, but usually it turns into Shenanigans, Part Deux.
Rachel and I talked about her life today.
Her disappointments, and calamity that may or may not happen.
I, in turn, told her mine.
She said, well, you're so calm. On the inside.
The war has been waged.
It continually churns.
Still in complete meltdown rebellion.
Bring it on. The shakes continue.
Again, it's not hunger. Or stress.
Upside down, inside out....... Aware.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Party girl? Vibrator thing?
(This is an actual product.)
(It sells on the magic T.V. box)
Stressed at work?
Inadequate satisfaction with your partner?
Pics of this thing,
The only place missing?
Is where they really intend for you to use it.
That's where they want you to use the thing.... (shriekey Kyle's Mom's voice)
Wh, wh, WHAT!!!????
Remember going down a hot slide when you were little?
The heat burned your leg and rear, I don't care, it's an awesome feeling to go down the slide!
Remember how good it felt?
How do you take off a t-shirt?
I usually pull form the back, right @ the neck line, pull it over my head.
Do you pull from the front?
Or cross your arms and pull from the sides?
How would I take off your t-shirt?..........
As I stood inside the room, and shut the door, safe. Inside my house.
Standing with my back to the front door. Breathless.
I stared. Up at the ceiling.
My eyes felt like velvet.
I walked in and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
I removed my mascara.
I thought about fake eyelashes. I'm just not that high maintenance.
But they are pretty.
My eyes blurry. Hard to focus.
I wanted to yell.
I took a drink of juice.
I watched all my emotions go down the drain.
Favorite smells swarm me.
My skin soft.
I inspect what I could be.
I mean, you could eat ice cream out the dips of my hips.......
The soap I use?
Is made from tomorrow.
Exfoliating to produce new skin, cleansing.
Isn't this a time I cherish?
(Wanna play hot and cold?)
Wrapped in my towel, Champ lays his head on my shoulder, as if to say I'm right here.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Here's the feather in my hat and I called it macaroni, I could care less about so and so with what fashion disaster took place yesterday. And, it's wonderful to be kind, but if you have to air it out, you may have well not have done it......
Are you familiar with Charles Bukowski?
So You Want To Be A Writer?
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
don't do it.
if you re doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.
if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.
don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be so dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.
when it is truly time,
and you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way
and there never was.
Landa and I watched The Passion last night, we sobbed the entire time, for the suffering. For the heartbreak. It made me thankful.
It made me thankful for the fact, I haven't ever been beaten to the point of death.It got me right in the gut. It made me think of the times I have been in pain. Of the fact, I wasn't ever alone. Of the truth, I will never know the pain The Son of God had to live through.
The moments of Satan, like the beginning of the movie when Jesus is praying in the garden, got me loosey goosey. Satan is such a tempter. Always underfoot.
When Jesus asks if this cup can be passed from me......
We know those times. All too well.
Why are thing happening like this? Why can't it all work out? Where is the answer?
We have to wait. We have to pray. We have to hold fast.
We also know the times where you shake and tremble so hard, it's not from excitement, or caffeine, it's from fear, or captivity.....
I looked up at the moon last night, walkin' into the house. I sat on a stump in the yard.
The grass was wet. It was kinda chilly. The full moon is on it's way. Maybe 2 to 2 1/2 weeks out?
Longer. It's longer. Be ready.
Isn't it funny how things tie into each other?
This time of year, I think about my papaw. It's soon. His birthday. I miss him.
Easter is next Sunday!!!! I am so excited!!!! Holy week, is this coming week?
Sunrise service is next Sunday. I love everything about Easter. The story. The absolute truth.
The amazing rebirth. The change that happens during this time.
I want to wrap myself in it like a cocoon.
Friday, April 3, 2009
I also picked up a old rusty can, found a beetle in it, and threw it down.
Savoy Truffle? Wishlist. Both songs have penetrated me, I just have to sit and listen.
Never say never. You end up married to man with a hornet tattoed on his neck.
Bad judgement? Blinded?
Maybe you just gave up? You just caught me making hot chocolate and adding extra marshmallows. I thought you needed an extra dose of comfort.
Daddy took my car today. To be fixed. Apparently driving it like hell is a bad idea.
My Daddy loves to inspect my car. He takes care of me, even when I am in a rotten place.
My Daddy, let me use his truck today, which is even more hilarious.
But, it's awesome. It smells like coffee, and wood chips. Like my Daddy.
Do you ever wonder how you managed to find yourself in a realationship of convenience?
Easy breezy, I may not be directly talking to you.
Manufactured into what you deem as love?
Discouraged, because of unforeseen circumstances? Sometimes, you can see trouble coming straight at you. Rumbling, a thousand miles a minute. It's ok. Hold fast.
Too young to endure?
It makes me think of a bull my papaw had growing up.
Gentle as a lamb. I may have been 6?
I was a charmer. This bull let me ride it like a horse.
When it heard the screen door slam, he would come to the fence row.
We could get nose to nose.
There I was, peddling as fast as possible on my bike, looking back, barefoot. The peddles digging into my feet, making groves on my skin. I couldn't stop!!! I tried. I tried to stop right there.
I didn't. I went flying. Over the handlebars, head over feet.
When I landed on the ground, I looked at my palms. They were bleeding. My knees? Scraped up pretty badly.
Remember barefoot? Ankle bones sliced open.
Like the time I pushed my sister through the screen door?
When my Daddy had gotten a new door, the edges were super sharp, so I went runnin' out the door, it was heavier too, so it slammed on the back of my heels.
Great googley moogley.
It slashed the backs of my heels.
I fell on the carpet screaming my fool head off. Mama scooped me up, and washed my cuts. I squalled.
Did your Mama ever use Bactine on you?
It burned. And had that smell.
Those scrapes sting.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Where is my movie? Scene by scene. Anxiously waiting for the director.
Then again. I could care less. Balance is on it's way though, I generally am like a little gymnast. Flippin'. Tossin'. Landin' on my feet. Choke your faith and fuel your fear?
Let's go. You strangely resemble Lieutenant Dan in Forest Gump. Legless, hanging on to the top of the boat, screaming. Challenging.
My favorite food? PB and J. Cut in a triangle. Searching out fruit and spiritual fullness.
Do you remember that song Steal Away? It's an 80's jam. Ronnie Dupree?
If I were a man, I would shoot my load all over your face. the word around town is it's low in calories.
I'm not ready. I'm not ready. Playing dress up. Let me reinstate. Not ready.
I'm hiding in the attic holding Raggedy Ann at gunpoint.
Hot in the ass according to Bev, Angie feverishly printing t-shirts as we speak.
Live with? Argue with?
Make up with?
Can't stand to be with them but want to be with them at the same time?
I'm not ready.
I walk, you lead.
Right smack dab into Sliding Doors.
Thank you 1997.
I want to be held. I want to be kissed.
I want rules with no boundaries.
I want to adore you close up, and be desperately far away.
Tell you when my feelings are hurt, or when you make me happy, and I feel good......
Run away, hard. Pounding the pavement to the point of ripping my ipod outta my ears and throwing it down...
Jump into your arms when it's pouring down the rain.... Like it's the last time I might ever see you again?
Look at you through the door.
Wonder why we get along so well?
Oh, shit. I have to reference my last journal? Maybe.
Complaining about things is just as effective as eating glass. It's just not to be done.
I am to be thankful. Prayerful. Hopeful.
Focused. On the waves. Even though blinding. Hypnotizing.
Last night, laying in bed, when I did catch a few zzz's, I woke up talking. Out loud.
About what? I don't know. A deaf dog heard nothing. He certainly feels me though.
Tiger was burrowed under the bed, snoring.
I opened my eyes. My legs almost felt like I had been walking, stopped dead in my tracks.
5:56. One minute late.
I have to be up super early tomorrow. 4:30. A.M. You read correctly.
4:30. Tonight I will probably sleep like a little lamb, impossible to wake up in the morning.
Or stay up. Anxious about oversleeping?
I do this thing, drum my hips? When I think. My thumbs are tired.