This Is Not An Exit

I knew my invitation would be indirectly declined. I was a fool to think otherwise. Although I was lucky enough to be in the company of good friends, they failed to take note of the empty chair beside me. Just as the curtains were opening and lights were dimming, I turned back to look at the doors. They were shut. I returned my attention to the screen where a bloody onslaught was about to mirror the one within. Oh well. Despite my ignored invitation, seeing American Psycho on the big screen is easily one of the coolest experiences ever. Hands down.

I have seven days off. Some might say that I'm on an involuntary vacation, perhaps a lay off. Voluntary or not, I'll gladly accept the coming days for which I haven't a single plan or obligation. More than likely I will spend the week ahead writing and running and singing and falling. Perhaps I'll just roam the streets aimlessly in desperate search for adventure.

Last night, I finally slept sound enough to dream. Too bad it was a nightmare.

I've reached the conclusion that I am much too selfish to be anything other than alone.

Someone told me the name of the rarest bird in the world. I have since forgotten it. I want to be the rarest bird in the world but I've got a long way to go.

"She said she couldn't stand people

who gave up trying"

You know something in your life needs to change
when you wake up to, "Hey! You might have an STD!"
So, so awesome. I'm fine, though. Nothing to worry about.
It's just really, super funny.
A virgin with an STD?
Comedic gold.

Surprisingly, that's a whole lot less funny than the happenings of the past two days, believe it or not! Close your eyes...are they closed? CLOSE 'EM, DAMMIT! Okay. Now, imagine fighting for the love of someone you could see yourself potentially being with somewhere down the line. Got it? Good. Okay. Now, imagine you make countless attempts to explain your true intentions only to have them ignored by a fucking defeatist attitude. Once you've got that, imagine hearing the same lines over and over. For example; "I'm a bad person. I'd ruin your life. I was trying to protect you." Now, pretend you cut it off because you can't handle all that bullshit small talk. Then imagine being deleted out of that someones life, causing you to delete them from yours. Now, stick your hand down your throat and yank out that dreadful and persistent heart of yours and set it on fire. That's right, fire! Feels good, doesn't it? Finally, try to imagine the one that got away. It's the same person, isn't it? Open your eyes. Hey, hey! Don't cry! It's funny, see? Laugh! Love is a joke; the funniest joke.

The remaining days of this week and the days that spill into the next will be spent primarily looking for new employment. This, so I assume, should be a major check mark in the "fail" column of my life chart. I assume the same result will be true of the diet (which consists of eliminating the entire food pyramid and then some) I plan on starting tomorrow.

I looked up "rut" in the dictionary:

1: an annually recurrent state of sexual excitement in the male deer
2: a track worn by a wheel or by habitual passage
3: a usual or fixed practice

All of those are suitable definitions of the state I am currently in. No need to worry, though. I'll dig myself out of this somehow. All I need is a shovel or two and perhaps a miracle...whatever that is.

Check ignition and may Gods love be with you

In all my life, things have never been so discombobulated as they are now. I feel like I have the Midas touch. But instead of gold, it's shit. Shit, I tell you!

First, the impossible happens. And of course it happens when I least expect it, thus leaving me completely unprepared. It was the most frustrating conversation I have ever had in my entire life. I feel like if we had been talking face to face, I would have been screaming. Even though no one could see me, I threw my hands up out of pure vexation more than once and cursed at the computer screen as if it made a difference. It was cathartic, despite the fact that my questions were endless and his answers were metaphors. Nothing was resolved. Thus is life, I guess. It's sad how I willingly anticipate that all promises made to me will be broken. So far, this one is no exception.

I hate that this isn't easy for me and that I have given power to a powerless situation. And I especially hate that I have publicly humiliated myself (I might go as far to say flagellate) all thanks to butterflies that someone once graciously gave me and then stole back only to set them free without me. Well, rest assured. Next time I happen to see one of our butterflies (well, they're your responsibility now) I will trap it in a jar and let it die. It's only fair.

I catwalked to what I surely believed was my inevitable death. Turns out (after watching video recorded evidence) I didn't embarrass myself that bad. It was all actually quite adorable. I laughed. I laughed on the runway. How cute is that?! (If you don't know how to answer that question, allow me; SUPER CUTE!)

Me: Do you girls happen to have a pen?
Model: What? Are you signing an autograph or something?
Me: No...

Model: You know who you look like?
Me: Jenny Lewis?
Model: How'd you know I was going to say that?!
Me: Lucky guess?

I need a new job within the next three weeks. I'm nearly unemployable, seeing my flawless track record of being fired. But I need a job. I cannot live on less than ten hours a week, making less than eight dollars an hour in a place where my off color jokes are ridiculed by the ill humored. Fast food and stripping are my last resorts.

It's funny how just a few months ago everything seemed to be falling into place. Which place, I am unsure, but they were undoubtedly falling strategically into a some designated fate. And now, the pieces that were once so systematically arranged are now scattered haphazardly. Don't worry. I'll get my dust pan and start cleaning up. Perhaps if I take the time to align the pieces they will form a silver lining...or something like that.

[I had to, I'm sorry. I just wanted you to let me in. I cared about you more than you will ever know. Thank you for protecting me. ]

(No butterflies were harmed in the writing of this entry.)

I'm your teenage prayer.

"You might think I'm not somebody,
you might think I'm nowhere
But I'm here to tell you I'm your teenage prayer."

There's a first time for everything. It just so happened that my spur of the moment trip to New York City presented me with an overwhelming amount of firsts; all of which I find nearly impossible to realize (and at times, accept) as truth. Looking back, all I can do is smile and wonder (only briefly) what my life would be like if I wasn't in it.

I spent half of my trip with clothes on, the other half was spent naked. Half of the nudity was expected, the other half was anticipated. I was happier with my clothes off. It was freeing. And for the first time in my life I felt (on some level) desirable. I realize it's not important to feel this way, but in the spirit of first times I think it's important to mention. I stumbled upon a few heartbreaking love stories and did my best to avoid becoming one. I think I survived (another first) although not entirely. I'm much too sensitive to be a tally mark on a bed post, but I'm dealing with it. I'm growing up. And even though my feelings and actions were only temporary, I now know what I want in permanence.

Flashbulbs against bare skin, neglected naps, twin bed closeness, avoiding eye contact, kissing races, Miller High Life, sweet and sour smells of Chinatown, warm and saturated sleep, city summer sun, free condoms and matches, trampoline nudity, tourists with crinkled maps, productive showers, lunch under grapevines, apathetic subway rides, models on street corners, loose tobacco, borrowed lighters, wanting to call someone mister just to spite you, drunken 2am pizza, walk/don't walk ignorance, grocery store oneness, not calling someone mister because I can't without you, vertically inclined in a vertical city, being called "Fucking Hipsters", fabricated truth, manufactured lies, over exposure, nylons ripped in fervor, walking tall, a song about a love song, release form release.

After my car dropped me off at the airport I stood outside and had a cigarette. I decided that I couldn't go back. If I were to go back home nothing would ever change and if I were to stay nothing would ever be the same. I came up with a plan (not much of one, really) where I would purposefully miss my flight. By the time my cigarette was finished I walked back to the sidewalk and waited for a taxi back to the city where I would call my parents to tell them how I couldn't come back. A taxi pulled up beside me and my luggage. I hesitated. With tears in my eyes, I waved him off.

I wanted to stay.
I couldn't leave.
I had to go.
I couldn't come.

Life is so beautiful in its randomness.
I would be a fool not to appreciate every little surprise.

(unfinished entry. to be edited.)

I'm going to New York City in the morning, Manhattan to be exact.
It just happened this way.
I never thought I could take my clothes off,
but I guess there isn't much to hide anymore.
It's mine to do with what I wish.
It should be fun, regardless.
I'm staying with a friend in Brooklyn.
I'll be back Saturday evening.


I woke up to a thunderstorm.
I found a Blue Jay feather in the grass.
I fed geese in a parking lot.

"The spark is not within me"

My face is tinted with sunshine and my freckles are in full bloom.

I realized that I enjoy not wearing underwear.

I gave up on giving up.

I started writing again. New title, new story, same ol', same ol'
But writers block has since gotten the best of me.

This morning (after calling off of work for no reason) while braiding my hair into pigtails, sitting Indian style, eating chocolate cake for breakfast I realized that there must be some Curious Case of Benjamen Button shit going on. There's no way I'm 20 years old.

Having said that, I start collecting unemployment tomorrow.

I think it should be required that every physically able person should go outside and do something nature-y every single day. Fresh air changes everything, for the better of course.

I really think I need to quit smoking soon. I sound like a dreadful combination of Christian Bale (as Batman, of course) and Kathleen Turner. Sultry? Perhaps. Unhealthy? Most definitely.

I finally found the words that have been sitting so patiently in my throat
but I have no one to say them to. I hope I find someone to tell before I swallow them.

I made a wish on a deceased dandelion.
I wish I knew then what I know now.
Or something like that.


For the record, I lied. I lie quite often, actually. But in this particular instance, I lied about that "last shot" business. Oh, and I broke a promise too. You know the one where I promised to take a hint? Yeah. Scratch that. The truth is, world, I don't have anything better to do than to keep trying. And I challenge you to find a better use of my time. My pleas have transcended merely wanting this. The hunger is unbearable. I've left a breadcrumb path for you. I'll be there when you're ready to follow it. I am the destination.



Person one: Why are you begging? It's pathetic. He doesn't want you.
Person two: Keep fighting until you don't want him anymore.
Person three: In the words of the great Pat Benatar, "Love is a battlefield."

In regards to person one; I know. I disgust myself.
In regards to person two; I've got a lot of fight left in me.
In regards to person three; Truer words have never been spoken.

"And now," cried Max, "let the wild rumpus start!"

"You gotta be the one,
you gotta be the way"

The past few days have been whirlwind like in nature, but in all actuality the past few days have been just the same. So, I find it only appropriate to summarize the aforementioned past few days in a whirlwind matter; in true haphazard fashion;

A vast sea of comic books, mutants and moon shadows, pulling a radio flyer wagon, peanut butter cookies, rough drafts,a little red dress, one long drive on empty, duct tape on a door, duct tape on a window, mustaches and keg beer, older men fascinated with my wasted youth, further demotion, grimace and the hamburgler, track #6, feeling heroic, heated argument over what belongs to me, bursts of unexpected wind carrying cherry blossom petals into my face, finding our groove, undesirable sobriety, red to blond thoughts, finding a house without directions, Romeo & Juliet, track #6, technicolor scars, Julie Newmar, jumping on train tracks, climbing barbed wire fences, feeling defeated, The Last Batgirl Story, waking from a dream where I was defiant and oblivious, clumsy and unfocused pirouettes, impatient hands holding a silent phone, disowning once trustworthy butterflies, irrational and exaggerated exclamations, snapping at friends hopeful words, choking fits induced by laughter, eating massive amounts of humble pie, crying "I can't do this" and screaming "I did it", running in nylons, financial sacrifices for rock and roll, walking on the top of the world, faking it, feeling lucky, blurry photographs and track #6.

If my car were a cat, it'd be on its ninth life.

I should have known things wouldn't be easy.
I'm putting it to rest or setting it free.
Either way, it's no longer a part of me.
Wait. Not yet. Okay?

Dandelions are unappreciated.

love thy self.

"In love the paradox occurs that two beings become one and yet remain two."

My bad habits are resurfacing and I'm gaining a significant amount of weight. And in regards to both the former and the latter, I don't much care.

My mother had a miscarriage yesterday. She wasn't going to "have" it, but it's still a sad thought for some reason or another. We laughed about it today, though. We're always laughing about the sad things, or so it seems.

I'm reading the thesaurus.

I need money for ballet lessons. And perhaps, too, a leotard. Or better yet a unitard. My body would look so slammin' in a unitard.

Your name comes up more often than I feel comfortable noticing. But never from my mouth, I can assure you. I'll hear it in a crowded bar or in a quiet bookstore and it always leaves me with the same feeling. I usually smile, shake my head to myself and then look out of a nearby window, at a nearby street, eyes glazed over with a sense of "Oh well." The complete duration of this cyclical, almost daily process is approximately 33 seconds, give or take a few.
Copious, affluent, flush, fertile, abundant, opulent. Even your synonyms leave me distant.

The fate of my day must surly be foreshadowed by a bowl of pink milk and perhaps the sun which insisted on nudging me unwillingly awake.