"Time to tell me the truth, to burden your mouth for what you say. No pieces of paper in the way, ’cause I can’t continue pretending to choose these opposite sides on which we fall, loving you laters, if at all. No right minds could wrong be this many times. My memory is cruel. I’m queen of attention to details, defending intentions if he fails. Until now, he told me her name. It sounded familiar in a way. I could have sworn I’d heard him say it ten thousand times.Oh, if only I had been listening. Leave unsaid, unspoken. Eyes wide shut, unopened. You and me,
always between the lines."

     Demi Moore. Oh. My. God. She is so aksagfadhkldfhklkfhrey5. There are not words. She surpasses them. Wow. Just wow. Ashton Kutcher is so freaking lucky. It's not fair. Why can't I have sexy time dreams with her?

     Speaking of dreams, my dreams have reached a new level of weirdness. Now, they have elements of....sadism, and semi, if not fully, forced sex. How creepy is that? It's not very pleasant. At least, I'm not the...dominant one. Yeah. I don't know. Overall not good feelings ensue. And it's always the same person. What does that mean? Too bad I'm not rich. I could hire a dream analyzer, get their take on all this shit. Interesting view points for sure.

     I absolutely adore tea. Lemon tea. Green tea. Peach tea. Chamomile tea. Earl Grey tea. English Breakfast tea. Black tea. Oolong tea. All of it. I. Love. Tea. It's like my love for cheese. Cheese, yes, cheese. Delicious, creamy goodness. Cheddar cheese. Swiss cheese. American cheese. Muenster. Brie. Colby. Pepper Jack. Gouda. Camembert. Montery Jack. Asiago. I WANT SOME CHEESE.

     Later, my loves.

"If it makes you happy, it can't be that bad. If it makes you happy, then why the hell are you so sad? You get down, real low down. You listen to Coltrane, derail your own train. Well, who hasn't been there before? I come round, around the hard way, bring you comics in bed, scrape the mold off the bread, and serve you french toast again. Well, ok, I still get stoned. I'm not the kind of girl you'd take home. If it makes you happy, it can't be that bad. If it makes you happy, then why the hell are you so sad?"

     So, what the hell is going on? I'm bored. Sue's taking a nap, and my pretty mommy isn't home yet, so I decided to write my inane thoughts down. Hey, it passes the time.

     Text messaging. I love it, really I do, but it has its drawbacks. You can't tell inflections or tones of peoples' voices, so you can never really tell if they're being sarcastic or whatever else they might be. That bugs me, because people assume. Don't get me wrong, I totally do it too, assume that is, and it sucks. It ends up in fights or pissed offness, and if there's anything I hate, it's fighting. Anyways, it was just on my mind. I wonder how many texts I send a month. Or a week for that matter. Cause I know I can have close to or over 100 in my inbox in a day's time. Damn.

     So, online dating sites....not that bad, actually. Especially ones that cater to gays and lesbians. You can meet some really interesting people, who live close to you, which is always a plus. Ah....the wonders of the internet.

     Colby, Chub, and Ed are playing at the Taxi Cafe tonight, and I said I'd go. I haven't seen them in a while....probably since Bill's funeral. No. I saw Ed at Wally World the other week, but still. And I love watching them play. It's just a matter of transportation now. I guess I could always call Ed or Tiff and ask them to take me. Yeah. I don't think they'd mind. We'll see what happens.

     Unfaithful = An amazing move. Go watch it. Now.

     "This is how you remind me of what I really am."

     Later, my loves.

"If you hear me talking, listen to what I'm not saying. If you hear me playing guitar, listen to what I'm not playing, and don't ask me to put words to all the silences I know. And don't ask me to put words to all the spaces between notes. In fact, if you have to ask, forget it."

     Glass House is the most amazing song ever. It is my favorite song in the world, and it fits so perfectly. Every line. Every chord. It's perfect. It's so me. Ahh...I love Ani DiFranco. I would run away to Canada with her and get married and have trillions of babies, if she wanted. I wish I could've seen her in Harrisburg a few months ago. That would have made my whole entire life. What would I do without music?

     Today sucked, but that's nothing new. I think it's an indication of things to come. May is to be a bad, bad month. Though, the 22nd is going to be good, 'cause it's Sue's birthday, and we're going to Virginia to visit her mommy. Strangely, it's also Shelby's birthday. I always thought that was kinda weird, but then again, I'm weird. You know, in all honesty, I kinda miss The Shelbinator. And the fact that I can't use The Shelbinator as often. Lol. Well, I guess I could, but it doesn't have the same effect. Anyways, yay for Virginia Beach and lesbians! Doesn't get much better than that.

     I should write a whole blog entry in LOLcat. That'd be borderline psychotic, I think. Hmm. Might save that for a time when I'm bored off my ass and possibly drunk, 'cause who doesn't love intoxicated blog posts...or e-mails for that matter?

     So, I put my comforter and sheets in the wash today, but I have to do them separately, because my comforter is bulky and whatnot, but my mom came home, and I turned the dryer off, forgetting about my laundry until about thirty minutes ago, so now, since I don't want to sleep on the couch or without warm blankies, I have to wait until all of it is done drying. Gah. I'm so picky.

     I'm running out of icons. That's sad, considering I have 4,367 of them. I just figured that out. I guess it's even sadder that I have that many. Well, if we disregard the copies, I probably have like...4,350. But that's still sad.

     It's amazing the things people say when you're not around, the good things. Makes you question everything all over again.

     Later, my loves.

"And I'll never try to give my life meaning by demeaning you. And I would like to state for the record, I did everything that I could do. I'm not saying that I am a saint. I just don't want to live that way. No, I will never be a saint, but I will always say, squint your eyes and look closer. I'm not between you and your ambition. I am a poster girl with no poster. I am thirty-two flavors and then some, and I'm beyond your peripheral vision. So, you might want to turn your head, 'cause someday you might find you are starving and eating all of the words that you said."

     I love tea. And egg salad. And warm weather. And how long my hair is. It hasn't been this long in years. I like it. It was down to almost the top of my butt when I was younger, but it'd get all tangled, and I actually broke a brush in my hair one day from the massive, death tangles. I promptly got it cut after then. It needs cut again, though. Just like a trim or whatever. But this is boring. Almost a whole paragraph devoted to my hair. Wow. I really am reaching new lows.

     I finally got out this song that's been festering for days in my head. It's different than what I usually do, but hey, different isn't always bad. I actually really like it. It's more cryptic, not as straight forward, more like my writing. I enjoy the crypticness. Makes you think. And opens the door for many possibilities. I like possibilities. God, if my fantasy life were able to come true. There'd be mythical creatures and lesbians in shining armor, no republicans and talking pandas. And love that lasts a lifetime. How corny. Happy ending. Blah. Blah. Blah. Ever after. Why do I have to be such a sap? Why can't I be like some...ice queen bitch from hell? I imagine it'd be easier.

     I want to watch Interview With the Vampire again, but it's at Sue's. *sad* That movie makes me feel better, for some reason. Odd.

     "...but the world was a tomb to me, a graveyard of broken statues, and each of those statues resembled her face."

     Later, my loves.

"Walkin' to the south out of Roanoke, I caught a trucker out of Philly. Had a nice long toke, but he's a headed west from the Cumberland Gap to Johnson City, Tennessee, and I gotta get a move on fit for the sun. I hear my baby callin’ my name, and I know that she's the only one. And if I die in Raleigh, at least I will die free. So, rock me mama like a wagon wheel. Rock me mama anyway you feel. Hey mama rock me. Rock me mama like the wind and the rain. Rock me mama like a south-bound train. Hey mama rock me."

     I've been trying to figure out for a half an hour what these tears are from or who they're for. Is it just residual sadness left over from past events? Is it bittersweet joy? Is it worry? I think about her hands on my body, her arms around my waist, her kisses to try and calm me, and it works, to a point. How can I miss her so much in the span of hours, minutes even? Her face sits clearly behind my eyelids, her lips curled in a smile, and I wish she were here. These tears keep falling, keep dripping onto my shirt and onto the cat, but he doesn't seem to mind. He nuzzles his head against my chin, silently asking for attention, and I don't deny him. My stomach growls, and I ignore it, scrolling through the contacts on my phone looking for someone to call, someone to tell me that it's ok to cry, someone to tell me it's just PMS or stress, but I know they're all asleep. This is too stupid to wake them up for, and if I'm not really sad, but I'm not really happy, what am I? Why are my cheeks still wet? Why do my eyes still burn? I light a cigarette and try to forget that I'm alone, that I want someone here with me, but the air conditioning kicking on only reminds me how empty this house is at night. The cat purrs softly, closing his eyes and falling asleep on my lap, and I wish I could do the same.

     Blah. I don't know what's wrong, if anything's wrong. I think my PMS is just crazy insane this time around, because my period is late due to stress. Yeah, I think that's it. Why can't I just bleed already?

     I love that song up there. I've found like four different versions, but it sounds so much better when Chub sings it. Heh.

     And since I don't feel like looking through my icons, I'm opting for one of my favorite LOL cats instead.

     Later, my loves.