milk and honey.

"I'll show you where the flowers never grow"

In the past week I've experienced, in summary, a rainbow, a dead dog and lots of rain. All of which, or so I find, are suitable guests to this abrupt and adamant feeling.

I have $25 and some change to last me until next Friday. This should make the next seven days nearly impossible.

I find it relatively amusing that people are so concerned about this pandemic. I'm not sick and my immune system is doing just fine. I'm more concerned about that silly little organ situated comfortably underneath my breastbone. It's not beating the same these days.

I accidentally felt up several female mannequins today. They are much too stubborn to move on their own, so my hands did all the work.

I desperately want a motorcycle. I want to sell my car, buy a motorcycle, move to the countryside and open a pie shop. I'll just bake pies and tend to a garden. Did I mention I would have a garden, too? Because I would. And a weathered wooden fence and creaky porch steps.

Even when I'm running late, I'm always early.

I'm running out of eyelashes to pull.

two part harmony.

"The world is dying to meet you"

Spring is so, so wonderful that I find it to be completely exhausting.

Yesterday I went to a used book sale. The books I purchased perfectly summarize who I am; Get Happy: Biography of Judy Garland, a thesaurus, Survival, Evasion and Escape: A guide published by the U.S Army in 1968 and The Art of Loving. I went to a concert, too. Every song was about love, which was tiring but opened a few closed windows in my barely open mind.

It is windier than usual today. Our windows are open and the drapes keep blowing upward. The trees are sporting their new growth and the cherry blossoms are popping. Now is the time for something good. I think.

Some people find my ceaseless crusade to be romantic. While others think my relentless attempts are pathetic; they think I look desperate. The truth is, I'm fighting for someone who won't fight for himself. So, I've come to a viable solution; my only option. I've made the choice to surrender. However, I am not waving my white flag out of defeat, no. I am waving it out of indifference. If you want me, then you'll have to find me. I'm worth fighting for. I am (as you are) a creature of endless value. I cannot promise you that I'll be waiting with open arms. And I certainly can't promise a open heart. But we'll burn that bridge when we cross it; if we ever cross it. But before I go off waving flags and burning bridges there are a few things you should know. I had a good feeling about all of this and I truly believed that something good was to come of it. I am in no way superior to you. My feelings and intentions were and are true and unassuming. And I firmly believe that we will both soon find whatever it is we are looking for, or something like that.

"Anyone who imagines that all fruits ripen at the same time as the strawberries knows nothing about grapes."- Paracelsus

I know very little about very much. I know nothing about fruit.

Not enough ladies, too many mans

Last night was fun. But I wasn't really there. The combination of Detroit, late night comedy and what I assume to be mass quantities of alcohol is lethal; especially to a sober girl, drunk on the impossible, observing within.

I never really finish anything I start. I have an unfinished novella on my desk, not to mention countless stories, letters, songs and poems, a sketch pad full of incomplete line drawings, books with dogeared pages and piles of untouched to-do lists. I suppose it's safe to assume that my motivation runs out half way through whatever it is I choose to do and then I hide it away to finish someday. Well, I've decided to see this through until you tell me not to. I would hate to face myself in a few years knowing I didn't even try. This may all seem obsessively persistent and at times utterly pointless, but I figure what the hell? I've got all the time in the world. I can't be held responsible for feeling this way, I can only own up to what I choose to do. Within the past few days I've come to realize and fully understand that the things you want most are the ones you must fight for. So, gather the troops, load your guns and say your prayers because I have a feeling this might be a very bloody affair. (ewww blood!)

I'm confident that I will be, in some way, victorious.

I need a place to stay for a few days.

The emergency sirens are going off and I don't much care.

It's getting better all the time
This heart's on fire

I had to take one for the team. And when I say team, I mean me. I thought at the time what I was doing was a complete mistake, little did I know that my choice was pure genius. GENIUS! I threw him off my trail, once and for all. Conversation resumed naturally and greedy hands returned to familiar positions underneath my shirt.

"Hands to yourself." I said.
"Come on." he pleaded.
I shook my head sheepishly.
Only a few gentle minutes passed before it started again and I refused him again.
"So, are we done here?" he asked.
"I suppose we are."

Buying me a slice of mediocre apple pie doesn't give you admission to pants paradise. All you'll get is a thank you and a prudish goodbye. Hmph!

Job hunting is so bothersome.

I was almost late for work due to masturbation.

I have $3 to my name. I had $5, but I bought a milkshake.

I finally know what I want to be when I grow up. Legit as fuck.

Now, if you don't mind, please allow me to step away from this dreadful play and take my rightful place at the end of the stage to perform my winded, over thought, unrehearsed aside. Spotlight? (clears throat):

"I'm not sure you pay attention to this thing anymore, but seeing that my options are limited, this couldn't hurt. This may all be a complete oversight of something minuscule, but I would be a complete idiot to let this go unnoticed. I've had to fight for very few things in my life, but my previous battles seem so unimportant now that I'm willing to fight for this; whatever this is or isn't. I'm assuming your answers and explanations are true because I have no reason not to believe you. So, assuming the former, I must tell you how completely crazy you sound. However, I see where you're coming from because if I had made the choice to make a clean break, my explanation would be identical to yours. The possibility of being hurt is the most frightening thing; I would know because I anticipate it, too, upon meeting people I could potentially care about. But I am not in the business of hurting people. I remember the moment I realized I was invested, in some small way in you. I made a phone call upon reading a message you sent my way. I was overcome with fear that you may have been hurt. But the reassurance of your voice calmed my nerves and awakened something I had been looking for. To cut the shit (which I'm not very good at, I'm afraid) I want you and have wanted you for quite some time. And as pathetic as it may sound to you or anyone else, I don't see these feelings fading any time soon. I can't dispose of this as easily as you can and have. I really, truly, want you.And I'm not exaggerating when I say that it would be my greatest pleasure to be wanted by you, too.

[exit stage left]

And yes, world, I have lost my fucking mind.

The blind leading the blind

Alas, I have had yet another painstakingly strange week. As if that comes as any surprise.


I was demoted from my position at work on Friday. This entailed a private talk in the back room, with a few stubborn tears running down my face. "It's too little, too late" she said. "It's obvious that you're burned out" she said. I'm not sure what any of this means. So I now fail to hold a position of any importance. I am merely there for the sake of being there. A few hours of my evening were spent in a strange house that resembled the one I grew up in, with a few people I hadn't met before. It smelled of incense. Birthday cake was involved.

The early portion of my Saturday was spent at work. I stood in the front of the store greeting incoming customers, bidding farewell to those leaving. It's upsetting how many people ignore your cheery "Hello" and your equally cheery "Have a lovely day!" After work I made a pit stop at McDonalds, as I was fucking starving. While enjoying my food a man also eating alone (in the corner) began to sing (to himself, or perhaps AT me) Token- The Lion Sleeps Tonight. Oh yes. He also managed to hit the high notes on every set of "Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh." After he concluded he started to talk about the time he was in the war and then something about a hitchhiker. I headed over to Rockabilly's to celebrate record store day and to ultimately see The Silent Years. I was in that store far too long. Some guy started hitting on me, talking to me about old Stones records and vinyl. And then I had a scare which sent me running for the door. I perched myself on the side of the building, smoked a few cigarettes and made a panicked phone call. I ended up hiding in my car for a lot longer than I had wanted. I wrote a song while I waited for my nerves to calm themselves. Mama Sara (Mama is a loving pet name I have chosen to give her) eventually showed up and TSY played in the backroom for 9 people, maybe 10. They played a song about a forest fire. Afterwards they replayed their set in the parking lot for a couple of kids who missed it. A few friends ditched me so Mama and I went and got ice cream, shot the shit. Went to her house, ventured out to Hamtramck to The Belmont. I sent/recieved too many text messages. Several messages in my inbox startled me upon reading them. I got home around 3am. It was a beautiful day. The sun left its mark on my cheeks.

Everywhere I go women are pregnant.
Everywhere I look cars are embedded in embankments.

I had to explain to someone why the word "cunt" is regarded as a curse word. I had to explain to them what it meant. I then proceeded to explain the context "cunt" is and should be used in.

If I should be trash, then I hope that someday soon that I am found as someones treasure.

"Powdered sugar and battery acid."

I'm not sure where to begin with Chicago, as my adventure was rather anti-climatic.

My bus ride there was enjoyable. I spent the entire trip talking to a 60 year old woman about life and what not. I received some advice and offered some in return. We hugged each other when we departed. I realized I can have lengthy conversations without cursing.

Big cities are seemingly less romantic when you spend your time walking in the cold rain alone, fighting the wind, wondering how you got to where you are.

Chicago is pretty easy to navigate. I followed my map to everywhere and nowhere. The only people that are nice to you are the people who are paid to. It's hard to light a cigarette in the windy city.

My hotel mates were very sweet. They invited me every time they left, but I politely declined as to not intrude on their vacation. I traveled there alone, so I figured I might as well commit and do everything on my own.

I shared a ride in the hotel elevator with two scantily clad transvestites. They had parties every night. They were only two rooms away from us. I wanted nothing more than to party with them.

Chicago fog is intense. The tops of buildings disappear. It was apocalyptic.

As for the "opportunity", the sole reason I went in the first place...it went well. They're interested in me and would ideally like to see me move there come autumn. The meeting was roughly an hour and a half long. She took a few measurements and asked a series of scattered and at times random questions. She hates that I have tattoos and asked me to consider removing them, I agreed but will not consider it. My hair color is all wrong, she said. "It's the same shade as rust." She said that I'm an actress. The conversation always came back to the discussion of passion. After being asked to list the things I am passionate about, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Of all the things I mentioned, all of which made my heart flutter just by saying them out loud, I failed to say anything involving the reason I was sitting in that office talking to that woman about a life I thought I wanted.

I suppose my time spent in Chicago can best be summarized by the following two events:

1. Hungry and in search of pizza that was not of the deep dish variety, I walked a few blocks and stumbled on a place that would feed my craving. I ordered a small pizza and decided to eat in. When my order was ready, they included on my plate one pizza, two plates and two forks. It was actually quite funny.

2. On my way to Navy Pier (I never actually made it), while attempting to cross the street, a man stops me and the following exchange of words took place:
Homely looking man with a thick accent: Oh my god. You are so beautiful.
Me: (ignore)
Homely looking man with thick accent: Your hair. So beautiful.
Me: Um, thank you.
Homely looking man with thick accent: You are so, so beautiful.
Me: Okay. (Made second attempt to cross the street)
Homely looking man with thick accent: Listen. I'm going to the bank...
Me: Awesome. Have fun!
Homely looking man with thick accent: I'll get money. We could have sex....all night long. All night.
Me: That is a truly tempting offer, sir, but I must be going.

On the bus ride home just before settling in for a cat nap I saw the Oscar Mayer Wiener Mobile speed past my window. I thought I was dreaming, but nope. Just another illustration of my strange, strange trip.

I was mistaken for a party of two and a prostitute. That was my time in Chicago, a truly unforgiving city. Well, at least it was this time around.

I only think of you when I'm vacuuming. I'm not sure if there's any significance to that, but I like to think that there's a reason as to why that chore brings about thoughts of you. It could be the consistent humming that drums up such imaginary conversations and regrets. Perhaps it's the concept of "sucking." That's probably it.

Although I have a great deal of thinking to think about thinking about, everything is simply wonderful. Things are coming together at a snails pace, but it's coming together.

I went out of my way to smell the flowers and to chase a butterfly today. It's those little things. It's always the little things.

Good Friday.

I have yet to see what is so good about this particular Friday, but I suppose the day is young, yet. There's still time to prove me wrong.

I have, for the past few days, the most insane cravings for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Apple Jacks. I have not had, nor wanted these things in years. If my cravings are not fulfilled soon I may resort to doing something crazy! Crazy, I tell you!

My work situation is getting progressively worse and worse. I will have been there a year next month. $7.63/hr. That place is fucked. Fucked, I tell you! I hate that I'm relying on something good happening in Chicago, but I am. Desperately. I've told everyone about my opportunity and it will be super embarrassing if I have to come back home to say, "Well, things didn't work out."

It's going on one month and I know this because I can't help but keep track of time. I realize I'm not an "easy" girl to love or even like, for that matter. And I know that I'm not as special as people make me out to be. But I've come to my own conclusion even though I know it's not the truth. This is taking longer than I had anticipated.

I watched Saved by the Bell: The College Years and it made me happier than I feel comfortable admitting.

Since starting this entry my pb&j and Apple Jacks cravings have been fulfilled, thanks to my stepmother. Praise the heavens!!!!

I think I'll start wearing mens cologne. It suits me a bit better.

I'm probably going out tonight. It's Good Friday, after all.

this need not be.

Toiling with ennui, I opted against falling into bed to watch a movie I've seen a dozen times or more. Instead, I went on a bike ride. Granted, I only went to the beach and back but factor in 40 mph winds (perhaps an exaggeration), flat tires (almost) and one particularly flaccid, out of shape smoker and that makes for one exhausting adventure. I saw some deer and I heard some frogs. I saw two lovers holding hands, walking with the water.

Speaking of adventure, I travel to Chicago in just a few days (via Mega Bus.) I have yet to prepare myself for the disappoint that will surely come with hearing the words, "You're not what we're looking for."I'm not sure what I'll do in Chicago. I have no money (approximately $8.) I guess I'll just walk around for hours watching the city change colors. That should be nice. Perhaps I'll just say hello to everyone I pass and I can tell everyone back home that I made a few thousand friends.

People never cease to amaze me. No matter how bad things may seem to be, there is always something to laugh about. Even so, I must wait another 2 weeks to know whether or not I can laugh a little easier. I don't know what I'm so worried about. I should be fine, right? My body is just playing vicious little magic tricks on me. But no matter the outcome I suppose it is all very, very funny...right? Right.

You know what else is funny? I wanted to hear those silly words from somebody else. But like the great Mick Jagger once said;

"You cant always get what you want
But if you try sometimes well you might find
You get what you need"

Right on, Mick. Right fucking on, man.

Mayday, mayday.

I walked without a jacket. Only three people passed me.
They were all running. Running from what, I still don't know.

Today is a bit different; less forgiving.

I really love Jews.

I hate that the boy at the Gap has a super nice, mediocre looking girlfriend.

I have to go to the free clinic. I don't think I should still be bleeding.