Attack of the Cat

It’s slow going here most days. The weather outside would be surprisingly warm tonight, if I didn’t live in Florida. One of the conveniences of living in a subtropical climate is the ability to go swimming almost completely year round, and often as late into the night as you’d like. Unfortunately, the only way for it to be this comfortably warm this late into the evening is by it being equally hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk by nine most mornings. In a state that spends nine months of the year in summer, we snow bunnies can be quite reluctant to enjoy the day.

I will not lie; I am a night owl by nature. Everyone that I can relate to in my family is a night owl. We may adjust ourselves to suit our jobs, school, etc – but make no mistake, the first opportunity we have to stay up until sunrise and we’re all over it like white on rice. We also benefit by being insomniacs, thus capable of running perfectly fine on as little as two hours of sleep.

This would seem irrelevant, excepting the fact that the town I reside within is almost completely diurnal. The tragedy of small cities. The danger in small cities and towns with night-owls is the ego. Oh sure, you might not think anything of it at first, “This is nice, quiet.” Sooner or later you’ve developed this whole “I own the night,” thing and start coming up with paranoid-delusional reasons as to why others are alert at such late hours. It seems oddly appropriate that most of these scenarios are made up while midnight trollings through Wal-Mart. By the way – if you are ever trapped there after two a.m.: Duct-tape Bowling.

This is a lot of meandering – and if you’ve happened by looking for a point I’m afraid you should call the game now, pack it in and go home.

I’m staring that the belly-button rings sitting on my desk just beneath my monitor. They’re nothing special, just large globular neon-pink marble acrylic balls. I love that you can find objects in various places for significant price differences. At Sally Beauty – they are $10 a piece, somewhere in the Market of Marion, I got them 3 for $10. Mix-n-match – imagine that.

If you ever get a chance, you should listen to Coast to Coast. I’m not sure if they’re affiliated, but they do have a website, and if you search hard enough online – which is to say not very hard at all – you’ll be able to find free broadcasts of the show without need of a radio. Just in case you are like some writers around here who only listen to the radio as a way to wake up in the morning.

I have come to the tragic conclusion that I just don’t want a job anymore. I neither care nor have the motivation to go out and seek one. Don’t get me wrong, I currently have a job which I love – the hours and pay are shite so I need to move on. But I don’t want a job. I want to write and do my art and get paid for it. Grants are hard to find unless you’ve been published as a writer, but I am avidly looking. And I am working at a double major in college to get some lame pays-the-bills shindig. I just don’t necessarily want it. And as my month of nearly paid vacation comes to a close, I find myself in mourning.

And to pack it all in, I’m not entirely sure if work is the only cause. It may just be I’m tired of here. Which is quite possible. The tragedy of being tired of where you live is the fact that most all of your friends and family are there. Abandonment has never been so complex.


Holy sh*t dude, I totally forgot I was in the middle of something. haha I went and altered the look on my dA and got to chatting with a friend and completely forgot what I was doing. So sorry to have forgotten you – but I suppose that’s where we’ll end it for now.

=^ ^=

Haters

I'm a punk rock prom queen
Brown paper magazine
Hotter than you've ever seen
Everywhere and in between

I'm a ten ticket thrill ride
Don't you wanna come inside?
A five star triple threat
Hardest of the hard to get
No ones little red corvette
Ain't seen nothin' like me yet

It took six whole hours, and five long days
For all your lies to come undone
And those three small words were way to late
Cause you can't see that I'm the one

I'm your late night head rush
Ace high royal flush
Red velvet orange crush
You just don't impress me much

A glossy double cover spread
Opened up inside your head
A black cherry paradise
Half the sugar, twice the spice
I don't wanna treat you nice
Come on baby roll the dice

Six whole hours, and five long days
For all your lies to come undone
And those three small words were way too late
Can't you see that I'm the one

It took six whole hours, and five long days
For all your lies to come undone
And those three small words were way too late
'Cause you can't see that I'm the one

It took six whole hours, and five long days
For all your lies to come undone
And those three small words were way too late
'Cause you can't see that I'm the one!!

I'm intelligent
I'm cute
I'm funny
I'm quick
I'm gullible
I'm trigger happy
I'm wild
I'm crazy in a way that everyone wants

I am more than willing to go the extra mile for you if I love you. And trust me when I say no one will ever, EVER, love you like I will; regarding friends and otherwise. I do however, absolutely refuse
To be put on the sidelines
To be stabbed in the back
To be lied to
To be ignored

This is my anthem. And you can think your better than me all you want. And you can think I'm an egocentric asshole all you want. And you can lie about me, betray me, and hate me all you want. But I am all this and more. And if you cannot see it - it's your loss.

Bitch, keep talking shit - you're making me FAMOUS!

Everything You Think You Know Is Wrong

Everything you think you know baby
Is wrong
And everything you think you had baby
Is gone

Certain things turn ugly when you think too hard
And nagging little thoughts change into things you can't turn off
Everything you think you know baby
Is wrong

It's all over but the crying
Fade to black I'm sick of trying
Took too much and now I'm done
It's all over but the crying

Do you really think I'm made of stone baby?
C'mon!
That we only love the things we own?
Baby you're wrong

Certain things just happen when you make no plans
And love can really tear you up and it can break you down
Everything you think you know baby
Is wrong

It's all over but the crying
Fade to black I'm sick of trying
Took too much and now I'm done
It's all over but the crying

Baby we're done

If I could I would
I'd change everything
Cause I can't forget you though you don't believe me
Now I can't walk back
I can't leave behind
Where does it go all the light that we had?

Everything you think you know baby
Is wrong
And everything you think you had baby
Is gone

Baby we're done

I am so very tired. I don't know what I did to deserve this. I really don't. I am out of my element on this one. And I'm not saying I didn't do anything. I always do something. It's how I work. Because stagnant is death. Life is change and movement. And maybe forward is hard, but the pain is what you use to remind you this isn't a dream.

I want to be self righteous. So fucking badly. But I'd rather make your life hell and play the role of the devil I know without doubt I am. And you may not believe in karma; but so help me you backstabbing bitch. You will when I'm done. I'm going to make you hurt. Because I'm hurting. And I don't care if you don't deserve it.

Push on stresses to find the cracks in who you are.
I am vindictive. In all the worse ways.

I pity those who love me most of the time because I am about as comforting as sandpaper.
And some days I wish I wasn't. Sometimes I want to be the loving center than you can rescue on your god damned steeds. But I am no damsel. And the only one distressed is the dragon for having his ass kicked by a little girl.

I loved you. I thought we would always be friends. I did not once ever consider you to be just an acquaintance. But now we're not even friends. You should know I plan on ruining your life. And normally I would be boldly honest and state the fact to your face. However, you feel the world should be run according to your game plan. So I will gloriously deploy it. You should know it brings me no joy. No joy whatsoever. And how I wish thoughts of your demise could.
I really and truly do.
But I am so very tired.

I do not continue to pick myself up because I want to. But because I have to. For no one else will be there for me.
Maybe that's a lie. I don't believe it. I do force it on myself. Because so far in life it has been the truth. A terrible and aching truth that breeds emptiness.
Sometimes I wish that all the scars on my soul could be seen on the outside.


Sometimes I think Hope is just as cruel as Love...

How are you defined?

People - the mass denizens of this place called earth. they don't care about anyone but themselves, serving only to benefit themselves at whatsoever the cost. eager to shut down others, berate and judge others. quick to lie, steal, cheat and betray. they talk but never speak. look but never see. hear but never listen. and you will meet thousands for every human you see.

Human - compassionate, they are misanthropic. betrayal is rewarded with cruelty and disdain. they rise above. they will love you no matter the cost. and will support and defend you in your darkest hour. they will love you regardless of what they have to go through to get to the truth of you and once there they will fight to stay forever in your light. cruel and kind, they speak truths and are impasse to allow guilt to hold them down. they fight for what's right, regardless of popularity.

Aciculate

What do I think of her? I don't care. I hate her. I hate you. I want her to DIE. Quit bleeding me out with your rancid bullshit. WHY DO YOU WANT MY FUCKING APPROVAL? Piss off. Stand on your own two feet for FIVE god Damned seconds.

Sometimes I want to string you upon my wall. See Blood Eagle, Norse. I want to skin your face while you sleep. And keep you alive so I can wake you while wearing it. So you'll cry and I can chirrup in the sweet glee as the salt from your tears bores acid trails down your fucking face.

I AM TIRED OF YOUR FUCKING GAMES.

I'm sick of the way you lie. The way you showboat and endeavor to endear yourself to others. Seeking something you don't deserve. When I want fiction I'll read a book.

The thought of you makes me itch. I feel as though all the flesh I have is constricting me, and I know it's not my flesh but thoughts of you. Thick and sticky - like florida air. Some sick sadistic sauna that never shuts off. Burying you, crushing in upon you like some ghoulish additional layer of gravity that shouldn't exist. And the razor I've entombed in my cutis drags so easily along that line displayed in taxidermy guides.

And I'm not sure what's sicker. The fact that the thought of you makes me want to skin myself for fear of suffocation. Or that the blade slicing through to the dermis is the only happiness I know anymore.

And to your shock and horror I am hysterically happy, cackling with glee insurmountable. [Insurmountable - incapable of being overcome]

I'm suckling the blood from my fingers. Tonguing it from my arm. And if I gnaw just a bit harder I'll reach that pulsing beat within these soft tips.

What wounds me is the fact that you will assume this is about you. Because you just cannot help your arrogance. Everything I used to love about you is wearing me down. Before it crumbles to dust I'll make sure to carve out a piece for you to keep. You always had to prove you owned me in the end anyway.

And this life I'm living is a lie. So all I've left to do is throw it all away. What makes me sadder still is the knowledge that in the end it wouldn't make an impact in your life

Cessation depends on inconspicuous intercourse betwixt carotid and steel...