Avoiding everything. Talking to myself. Incapable of doing so without spewing it. Unable to bring myself to face Twitter at the moment. So, random thoughts and spews collecting and creating blockage. Just like I once abused laxatives to get closer to the body I wanted, so, consider this blog my Dulcolax.
I’ll update until I don’t.
Feb 19, 2016 7:30a.m. Consider the talent required to get dumped before you are actually seeing anyone and congratulate yourself on having perfected that skill.
Feb 19, 2016 7:45 a.m. Saving up money so I can afford one. Not a tattoo.
Feb 19, 2016 7:50 a.m. I resent that Pinterest is sending me “Tips on Writing” pics and links. Jesus. Now social media bots are criticizing my literary talent?
Feb 19, 2016 8:00 a.m. Seriously California and New York Times? This article about California considering imposing so-called “health & safety” rules on the porn industry is total bullshit on any number of levels. 1) This is California/America shaming porn actors/industry – another example of this culture’s fear of sex and patriarchal, christist, religionist need to constantly try to regulate what people do with their sex organs and orgasms – fuck you. 2) The WRITER of this article and the descriptions of what the porn industry participants were WEARING – REALLLLLY? It’s like a drooling, salacious, lascivious, prurient little jackhole got hold of a pen. Again – fuck you. And fuck the editor who didn’t say, “Really?” LINK: http://www.nytimes.com/2016/02/19/us/actors-in-pornographic-films-fight-proposal-to-enforce-safety-regulations.html
Feb 19, 2016 8:05 a.m. I’m afraid to go out in pubic for fear of who I might run into today or what someone might say to me. My soul is beaten to a pulp right now. But, I really want to go wander through used books to revel and find comfort in the scent of old words, pages and spines rotting away like I am.
Feb 19, 2016 8:25 a.m. When you go to get what you want for breakfast and it’s all gone. When you go to put your bowl into the dishwasher and it’s all full in a haphazard way sure to break a dish. When you go to put something into the trash and the bag is full. When you go to use toilet paper, paper towel, napkin, or tissue and there is only one left – again and again and again, miraculously.
Feb 19, 2016 8:45 a.m. What I want is to somehow be able to afford, find some way to survive in a hermit-like life (with wi-fi and running water and heat, of course) in a parked Airstream …
… somewhere removed (but close enough to get, you know, wi-fi and running water and heat, of course, AND BOOKSTORE/LIBRARY) where I will dwell, cave-like (with — you get it) and be the crazy coot who reads and writes and fosters (as in, keeps for my very own, never letting go) many, many rescue pups who need a home.
Feb 19, 2016 10:30 a.m. Once again, drowning in self-why-what-for-how-want to know the meaning of all this happening -land — I cannot decide if I would rather live inside a Ludwig Bemelmans’ illustration:
Or, a Dolce and Gabbana ad:
Both are equally unrealistic — better find me another pup to rescue.
Feb 19, 2016 11:00 a.m. And this.