Thursday, October 27, 2005

I'm sitting here freezing, listening to old soul music. Two dollars at the record store. Two dollars for an hour of nostalgia. Most of this music was made before I was born but, it feels like it was born with me.

The book I was so excited about ordering yesterday is Holler If You Hear Me: Searching for Tupac Shakur by Michael Eric Dyson. I got quite the look when I was talking about it with someone here at work. Yes I'm a metal loving head banging chick however I do enjoy Hip hop as well. Always have.

I'm interested in reading this book mainly because I think Tupac Shakur was an interesting person. Very very intelligent, loved books and lived rough. Died rough. I want to read about what made him who he was. And I've read good reviews about the author.

I'm feeling somber today. Partly because I didn't sleep very well (surprise surprise) and partly because that's just how I am. I've got my eyes turned inward as always.

Again it's been an hour that this entry has been sitting.
And I should note here that what's going around in my brain isn't necessarily bad it's just there. I'm unable to articulate it. I don't know why.
No that there is a lie. I do know why I just don't want to talk about it right now.

So yeah.

In other non related news I'm currently looking at dresses because I think I want to go to the company holiday party and I want to dress up. The dress I've been lusting after for goddamn ever is apparantly not available. It never even went on sale. Now I'm going to pout.

I think that's it. I'm not in the mood for journalling right at the moment.
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Monday, October 24, 2005

I think I have a migraine brewing in my skull. Mainly because even though I slept for about an hour and a half last night/this morning I'm feeling all colors of manic. Usually I get this way before a big 'splody type migraine.

If you look here at my scrobbler user page you'll see my latest musical wanderings. If you follow along probably today you'll find the latest Sevendust album is going to go back into heavy rotation today. And/or some Manson, Tool and what I really have a hankering for is some Black Label Society, Soil and I'm seriously wanting some Killswitch Engage. Mmm say it with me...angry negro music.

And if you don't look at any of the other links look at the Killswitch Engage one because I have a serious hard on for The Howard Jones the luscious big brown bald headed man who is the lead singer.

I want to slap his bald head and then maybe see if I can make him scream.

Repeatedly.

Cause yeah...big hottie like that I have a feeling he likes it rough. Even if he doesn't I would bet money I could convince him too.

While we're on the subject of fine black men in metal.



OMFG Can I get an Amen?

A hell yeah?

That is Lajon Witherspoon the lead singer of the band Sevendust.

He is the HOT motherfucking sex.

Ok enough said. He's hot, listen to his music. Enjoy his beauty.

And where was I?

Music, mania, headache right-O. I think I'll stop for right now.

More later possibly. Possibly not I have the attention span of a flea.

Goodnight.

PS...

I have to pee.

And it will be in your shoes.
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It's very early Sunday morning and I'm not asleep. Rather I'm listening to comedy in the background and stewing in my growing discontent.

I'm restless. Squirming inside for some sort of change that I just can't quite touch or get to. There's dissatisfaction boiling in my brain. I'm dissatisfied with the rate of change I'm going at.

As a side note I just heard some stupid bint on television say and I fucking quote, "Europe is the safest country in the world."

Jesus tap dancing Christ.

And this stupid bitch is a millionaire.

And I can barely make ends meet.

What the fuck is wrong with the world?

I had to change the channel.

What was I saying?

Right. Dissatisfied with how effective I've been at changing my life.

For a long time now I've held the assumption that, the only way things will change for me is if I work my ass off to change them. As time has gone by I'm starting to come to the conclusion that is in fact a lie.

I don't think my ideals are too lofty. When I was younger yes. Fifteen years ago I thought by this age I'd be getting a masters degree or doctorate. Perhaps settled down somewhere writing novels by night and teaching or some such during the day. I'd have traveled to many of the places I used to read about in books. I'd have gotten over some of my childhood issues.

Maybe done some political work. Adopted a child or two. If not married at least found myself a few steady lovers. My own home. A car or motorcycle of my own. You get the idea.

I have none of that. I am not college educated. I have no trade. The most valuable thing I own is a computer that is sitting in storage that I can hardly afford.

In the last few years my dreams have come down a few notches.

All I really want out of life right now is to not have to decide between paying the rent late and having groceries. I want to not have to plan three paychecks ahead to spend forty dollars on necessary items. I don't want to have to wear things until they fall apart. I'd like once in awhile to feel the freedom to have the option of going out to dinner or out dancing without going without other things.

I want to get my teeth fixed without going into debt for three years. I want to be out of my six thousand dollar debt that I can only afford to pay a little at a time. I want to maybe in ten years be able to have a house. I want to be able to afford 25 bucks out of each paycheck to start a 401k without being afraid that 50 dollars a month will mean I go without food for a week.

Really at the bottom of it all I just don't want to struggle constantly.

It amazes me really. I'm not a lazy person. I work hard for what I have. It's come to a point that I just don't know what else I can do. My options are limited enough that for the most part I've learned that a lot of my dreams are just out of reach.

And I'm ok with that.

So now the question is what am I going to do?

After we have a King County address I've found a non profit that does career education. I can learn a trade of some sort. At this point I'm not too picky I'll do whatever they have available. As long as I make more money than I am now because another few years of making shit money is going to put me under and I'm afraid I won't be able to dig out.

I don't want pity or charity. Part of me even hates that I'm writing about this because I have a strong aversion to feeling that I'm making a spectacle of myself. I hate to think of the who knows who that might read this and think, 'What a fucking train wreck'. But yeah. Here I am doing it anyway.

Mostly because I don't really have any other outlets for this kind of thing. Especially not at four o'clock in the morning.

Admittedly there's a lot of other stuff going on with me right now but I don't want to talk about it here. Mainly because I'm embarassed and I don't think feeling that vulnerable with it just out there in the big blue nowhere would make me feel any better.

So that's it.

Goodnight.
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Friday, October 21, 2005

These are fragments written on my way home last night. That's all thank you and goodnight.

Bright dawn comes yet relieves no fears.
I want the darkening of this light so that I might remain unseen.
Only another seething shadow amongst shadows.
Simple the shade of a thing gone to secrets.
~
Bring the battle in from the fields.
Return it to my soul.
Create in me the scourging flame.
Give me truth.
Bring the battle to me.
~
Another world that I cannot grasp.
My fingers scrape at a steel wool sky.
Dig until it bleeds.
And still I am no closer to God.
~
Tears.
Sweet elixer.
Unknown-unremembered balm.
Once it was.
Now it is not.
~
My blood is no ample sacrifice.
There is no alchemy inside me.
~
Lost between spaces.
Dislocated spirit. Hear
the sound of tears.
~
All these unshed tears have dried and hardened. Become a salty crust around my tender heart. Chip away the rime of years and still no tears. These eyes are dry and yet I wail. Screams locked behind open opaque eyes. Numb stupid smiling mouth. Gnashed teeth and still no tears.
~
Sometimes I can feel the need to break. Thickness in my throat, eyes swollen as wet sponges. And then I take a breath. I am steel. Still myself until I am cool as marble on the surface and molten rock in my heart.
~
I am afraid to show the red embers beneath the ashes of what I once was.
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Thursday, October 13, 2005

Fuck sake. There is actually a battle going on inside my head right now. Coldebola versus sinusysupersnot. I'm not sure who's winning. All I know is my throat hurts from the constant flow of nastiness, my head is alternately stuffed full or dry as a bone and I'm fucking exhausted.

I am alternately manic and then I'm pooped out. Last night I had a weird few moments. I ate too early I think and while I was waiting for the ferry I had this frisson of 'ughsotiredwannafallout' followed (or maybe caused by) a sugar crash of Twinkie Junkie proportions. I had to buy a semi stale bag of Famous Amos cookies and a cup of cocoa before I felt right. And I still didn't feel right when I got home. Byootiful fed me fried rice and very yummy baked in the can tuna with garlic and lots of lemon pepper.

That was nice but I still didn't sleep really well.

I've had this story idea knocking around in my head for the past few days. And because I'm smart I keep forgetting to bring the blank notepad I have left. Watch me go I'm super smart.

Wow it's hard to be cranky and pissed off listening to Blues Traveler. I was just about to rant about something but I lost it singing along with Blues Traveler.

Note to self: learn to not sing along when your throat is sore you silly bitch.

Where was I? Ranting, sickly, annoyed yes yes and yes.

I lost my train of thought again. Fuck it nevermind. I'm going to work on a submission to a local zine and listen to launch cast until it starts to suck.

Goodnight Frank.
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Wednesday, October 12, 2005

I stopped at Cafe Appasionato (I just fucked that spelling) for a cup of coffee on my way to work today. There's something wonderful and elegant about a good cup of drip coffee. I love espresso but, good drip coffee is an art to me. The cup I purchased had a good scent. Rich and velvety with a hint of sweetness pre-fixings adding. I added half and half and two raw sugars. And the first sip was disappointingly bitter but after a good swirl and stir it mellowed considerably.

Midway through the cup there was a distinct lovely swish of a chocolatey flavor. Pleasantly warm on the tongue without being oversweet. That particular coffee I'd like to have with a croissant and a bit of a nice creamy cheese. I had a madeline cookie with it but the pairing of that and the coffee was a bit too sweet for me.

Overall an excellent cup of coffee for a good price. 1.60$ for a 16 ounce cup.

But I'm sad to report I think I have to go off of the coffee. I've noticed the last few times I've purchased coffee I've had a slight swelling at the back of my throat. Nothing huge that makes it hard to breathe but just enough to be noticeable. It goes away after an antihistimine or a lot of water. I'm not sure if it's the caffiene or the coffee itself. That makes me really sad. I absolutely love coffee. Not just for the jolt but I love the taste of coffee.

However it's only been since I've been sick that I've had it so hopefully it's only more immune system fuckery rather than an actual budding allergy. That would really suck.

I still am feeling sickly. Overtired and very cranky.

I called a snotty elbow throwing yuppie on the ferry princess and told him that he's not the only person getting off the ferry and to watch his elbows and briefcase. As he was trying to wrestle his way up the ramp he about hit a baby in a stroller upside the head with his ugly briefcase.

I'm having one of those days. People depress me. For my melanin challenged friends here's some tips in case you don't already know.

When talking to someone black (like me for instance) do not say anything that resembles the following:

"Oh you speak so well."

Now because most people won't take the time let me explain. When you say something like that it implies that you are expecting ghetto speak, ebonics and/or some other mangling of English and it's fucking offensive. Look at it this way. If you look Slavic and we met and mid conversation I beam at you and say:

"Oh your English is so good."

Now assume in this fictional conversation you are not from Eastern Europe and English is your mother tongue. It'd be offensive and I'd hope it'd piss you off.

Just don't do it.

If you really feel like you must comment say something else. For instance:

"You have a beautiful speaking voice."

Much better.

Other no-no's perhaps specific to me. And yes all of these things have happened to me.

Do not in the middle of what might be a good conversation mention vagina dentata to me and leer. That is not cute. I am not impressed with your knowledge of vaginal lore and you will not get laid.

Do not touch my hair and marvel at how soft it is. Nappy does not equal steel wool. Screw you.

Do not tell me the color of my skin is in any way exotic. It's brown. There are lots of brown people in the world. Piss off.

Just because I'm brown and you're brown doesn't mean I want to talk to you. If I don't look open to conversation don't fucking start one. Headphones+book= Back the fuck up.

Do not think that because I nod in response to a nod that I want to screw you. No I don't kthnks.

I am not impressed by leering from a slow rolling car. I'm not a hooker.

That said. There are ways that will not get you a fuck off and die look.

Tell me I look nice. Thanks.

When I say I have someone be polite.

The best rule:

Don't be a dick.

If you're to be an asshole go eat a dick. It'll shut you up for awhile.

Wow that was long. And I'm spent now. I need some more tea and I think I'm going to finish the other half of my madeline.

Goodnight Frank.

PS...Immune system fuckery fucking sucks.

PPS..I couldn't be arsed to spell check. Suffer the shitty spelling fuckers.
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Friday, October 07, 2005

I'm still sick. And unhappy about it. However, I don't have a fever anymore which is good.

I'm exhausted. What I really want to do is curl up in bed for a few days with a book and doze off when I feel like it.

Beyond that I'm not really in the mood for anything. Whenever I don't feel good I always feel emotionally wibbly and I want to either snap at, stab or otherwise maim people. I am broody and prone to fits of anger of sorts.

So I tend to keep quiet.

And I wrote some poetry:

We are screaming.
Broken ridiculous dreamers.
Fragments of illumination-
shards of light.
Don't give us your sad story
we have enough of our own.
~
Broken Dreamer- Don't scream
We see you in your solitary confinements.
Don't Scream - Broken Dreamer
We will know you in your absurd decay.
~

I am tired of
you and your absurd dreamings.
Sleep now in silence.

Take me inside. Deep
beneath your reckless waking.
Know quiet once more.

Why can't you see me?
I stand naked in your eyes.
Don't see. Please see me.
~

That's it.

Haikus at the bottom. Call them the nameless drivel of a sick cranky little beasty.

Goodnight Frank

PS...Stop looking at my boobs.
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Wednesday, October 05, 2005

I'm sick. Haven't felt right since Sunday ish and yesterday I actually called in sick to work. (I know I know how your applause).

So today while I am feeling marginally better I'm so cranky I just want to kick almost everyone I see who isn't sick. Go figure.

Listening to Beethoven radio is helping. As is the giant cup of mint tea I just got at Tully's.

Nothing much else new at present. I forgot about this entry entirely for about an hour. Just goes to show you how easily I can be distracted. For the record I was reading the Ny Times book section.

I am entirely catastrophed out. So I avoid the news. I can't take any more death and destruction just now. I'm more than over saturated and I've had enough.

Enough Doom Grandma I have to poop.

Ok I think I'm done I can't concentrate on this right now. And I'm probably gonna be incommunicado for a couple of days until I can think straight without my train of thought going to wanting to stab someone.

Goodnight Frank.

PS...I want a taco.
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Monday, October 03, 2005

Now for the current.

Actually after getting some sleep and rereading the story linked below I don't really like it.

I'm also having one of those days where trying to write to fit a genre just isn't working for me. I'm not sure about other authors but sometimes I find it amazingly difficult to keep myself within certain parameters when writing.

For instance the story I was just talking about. On reading some of the other Bizarro I don't think my story particularly fits. I have trouble with that. It's a good part of the reason I don't submit a hell of a lot more because I'm really tired of hearing things like, "good story but just doesn't fit with us".

I'm not exactly sure what-if anything to do about it.

Certainly there's things in my writing I'm struggling with that are way more major than trying to fit in. My shitty grammar to start with being the big one. But this genre thing has been stuck in my craw for quite awhile. Fucksake. Sometimes I get on my own damn nerves with this circular mastubatory thought.

Doesn't help I feel sick and that makes me testy and cranky.

Ok I'm done.
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I forgot to post this the other day and figured I should so the follow up will make some kind of sense.

The story for the Bizarro contest is finished and posted here.
For the delectation of whomever. I'm actually pretty pleased with
that one. It's a different take on having a doll as the central
thing of uh..focus.



A few of my friends who read it (half of which I believe to be pure
flattery) said they were alternately amused and repulsed. Sweet
talk me, I like it.



It's a little longer than I'd initially wanted but that's ok.



I"m feeling pretty prolific. Now if I could get myself to doing
some serious editing I'd be further on my way towards getting back into
the music of writing the way I like.



I'm a little cranky, I was outbid almost simultaneously (I did not
spell that right) on a pair of shoes and on a laptop. That makes
me cranky and annoyed.



I think I'm going to start a little something new. I've got some sort of other thing brewing in my head.



Earlier today I was thinking about part of my reticence about sending
off submissions. I think a lot of it has to do with most of my
writing isn't easily categorized. It doesn't fit neatly into
whatever genre I think I might be writing for.



Wow I totally forgot about this so nevermind about the rest.
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