Hello! It is really fucking hot outside, today I believe it hit 107 in Anaheim, but that's just according to someone's Facebook update. What should I listen to as I write... punk?
Hot Snakes... not so much punk.
I got asked out on a date today, by the best grandma in the world... TRUDY! Our romantic weekend getaway awaits us in late September. HEHE:D
I came here to write about stuff. By next week I must hand in some sort of non-fiction draft. I have so much to write about, but where to start? The work place? The sex? The violence? The rawness? Or the happiness, the ineffable, the hoity toity, the ideal... where's the fun in that? Happiness is overrated anyway.
There was a work bbq today at Eisenhower park. Everyone was talking about how they grew up in that park and love it so much and how much it's changed... I wanted to bring up how I was arrested at that park one morning at about 3, when I was 15 and a half, drinking and smoking and driving, and waiting for a car full of boys to meet up with us. That was a disaster. The scariest part for me was hoping that the cops wouldn't find my defecation just below the cement ramp near the wood chips. That's illegal right?
back to the work thing
So little bunny foo foo just text messaged me, randomly bringing up another coworker who is married and has children (not that that makes any difference to what I'm about to say) and foo foo just accused him of being gay, in fact a "gay demon," a closet case, that he loathes him aside from "everyone else in the whole wide world." Sounds like foo foo wants to suck a dick or two. Or three. Maybe even go as far as to give up vagina altogether and be a full time cock sucker. So I replied and told him to make out with him, that it would be the ONLY way to know, and then he said to me, "Fuck off jerko!" Did I deserve that? He was the one that brought it up. Whoa man, Foo Foo is a vicious fucking rabid beast. Foaming at the mouth and chewing on his long hair. Then he said, "Whatevs bout that fagle (LOL<). Let's get stoney sometime. I promise I won't be a drunken bad lover or anything :)" And then I said, "Haha, fagle. Ya let's get stoney." Then he said, "I'm. down. as. fuuuuuuck. :)"
AND SHE WAS ALL, AND I WAS LIKE, OMG, LIKE LIKE LIKE OMG, I WAS LIKE TOTALLY FUCK!
and I said nothing.
Nothing needed to be said.
Can I say that I ... my life? I feel something about my life. Maybe I don't love it because of things like this... but it's definitely something to laugh about.
AHHHHHHHHHHH
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Or I could write about you and how much you've let me down. I could sit there for hours and calculate it out. How many times, when and where and who was present. My theory as to why, and also include that I can't be the only one... not the only one. I can include interviews of others and compare and contrast their experiences to mine. Even though that has happened before, I could organize a dialogue that makes it easier for the reader to understand, to PAINT A PICTURE, of exactly what happened. Exactly how I, we all felt. It will be surprisingly similar. I could give it all right back to you, my revenge, and then I guarantee your tail will sting me right in the tendon or the eye ball, fucking me up for EVER!!!! Then I'd feel like shit and then I'd write about how much you have changed me as a person, a woman, an independent... all of the above. How you've boosted my everything and anything. My motivation, my horizons, my hopes and dreams, my posture, my voice... and how it was never for me or that other person but for you. Only for you. Not even your allies at the moment. But you're a special breed of human, like Jesus or something reefuckingdiculous. Something so indefensible, something so fucking prime, exceptional that there is nothing any victim could do to reach victory. Fuck. Impossibility does exist.
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I swear I didn't mean for it to feel like this, like every inch of me is bruised.
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Today I shared my love for the beats: the Buk and Kerouac. Margaret Atwood, and the graphic novels I've read... Swamp Thing... Black Hole... Others shared their love for the Palahnuik, Hemingway, fucking Twilight, Clancy... My teacher, awkward, unable to run a class smoothly and timely, a pushover, a flower child unable to take a rock and throw it on the floor
"I'm throwin' rocks at your floor, I'm breakin' down your front door, I'm desperate tonight and I just wanna fight"
and say what they feel instead of letting the wind do it for them. PSYCHEDELIA! HUMANITY! TRANQUILITY! Our anger is meaningless
My writing is sparse tonight. Doin' fine
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