Archive for November, 2011

Yes, this is a really dumb choice while you guys are “waiting.”

“In The Waiting Line” by Zero 7

Also, it may be broken as I can’t play it.  But the link seems in tact.

As per my post on November 11, 2011 “Can’t Find Him” tonight I have learned that my friend, my friend *choking back tears* Died.

I checked and we did have more recent contact than months but it was brief. Very.

I learned quite recently there was a pub nearby where he was spending a lot of time. To go there was my next plan rather than trying to track down his parents I’d never met in the city.

So fucking much for that.

I need to look for any obituaries. *crying now* My “source” is good but did he die when? Or was that the funeral date?

And the cross. His cross. Never, ever picked up from me (always wanted it left with me?)

This may sound awful but I just can’t bear to face his devout Catholic mother. Not as some stranger (Jezebel) who has his cross.

I will keep it. It seems he always wanted me to do so over so many years. Why I have no idea.

Selfish perhaps. But my decision. I feel I “need” it to remember him.

Bless you, sweet G. I love you and never stopped.

First, I apologize if I deleted anyone “in error.”  However, if you’re still out there lurking, or I didn’t get you and you still want to “play” with me, two words: BE PREPARED.

There have only been two times when I have seriously had to consider changing the way I run my blog.  It’s been five years now up and running.  I think so.  Sometime this month it was started but I might miss its birthday.  So, “Happy Birthday PA” in advance.  NEVER did I make those changes though.  I now refuse to do so.

So, if indeed you still want to engage with me (yes, I realize this post may make your pin-pointed eyes glow and spin in your stupid, little head) you won’t have much of a head soon enough.  I will take you on and KEEP CRUSHING YOUR TINY, ONLINE, PATHETIC BRAIN until your USELESS LIFE will no longer get any of your little “jollies” where  YOU’RE SO FUCKING DELUSIONAL, YOU THINK YOU ARE SMART.

Well played today as I bid my final adieu to you? That I will admit.  Granted, I haven’t been blogging to clean up the SHIT IN YOUR OVERFLOWING DIAPERS.  It’s taken me a very long time to do that, plus the TRAIL OF URINE THAT HAD THE STENCH OF AN ENTIRE ZOO. 

This is not the post I should have written today–or the post that should have appeared next on my blog.  Nonetheless, what a wonderful feeling to tell you this.  Bugger off.  Go sit in a corner and pout.  Forever.

Still trying to work on post re: “feelings” why I’m having problems getting online and such. More I want to tell everyone too. Get to Twitter Follows as well.

But just found out someone known for about 12 years has cancer. Lost touch over few years and I can’t find him. Yet? Maybe?

Joke long ago when in touch. Me completely as non-religious as can be, him the biggest lapsed Catholic as can be, I tore off his cross and started acting like a total jerk.

Fuck that cross. Mother gave and if not on him? Flip Out.

Over years said come get but he was sure, okay but I know it’s in a safe place. Never picked it up.

I’m now wearing it. Not taking it off until I can find him. Hopefully.

Hi folks,

I know.  A lot of (non)talk from me lately.  I’m having some problems in my head.  Obviously?

I usually write about myself when I’m sick in rather technical terms.   I don’t express my emotions.  Lately, all I’ve said is that I’ve been “scared” to interact with everyone.  That doesn’t mean I can’t communicate at all…

…it’s just…

The emotions, feelings.  Not just the clinical. 

I was thinking today I’d like to try and write something about that.  Maybe to give you a better idea? Really write about what I’m feeling.  It might make a bit more sense?

I know I can’t do it now.   Certainly not in this instant.  But somehow part of me feels like a fool’s fool.  The court jester wearing only a suit of one single colour with no bells on her hat.

Perhaps it’s time to say more.  More than I’m “scared” or I’m “really sick.” 

Difficult? Herculean.  Atlas shrugged, but then Sisyphus knocked on my door.  In his free hand, a battered and beaten, single slipper from Mercury.