this is me throwing some nails in a blender and seeing what happens

"sometimes someone somewhere does something and you wish you were there standing right in front of them to ask them what the fuck they think they're doing right before they do it and you're actually surprised that it's come to this and you have to laugh you absolutely have to laugh because it's so ridiculous......"

"stop. please stop. all this shit. i mean it...."

"i can't believe i'm about to waste my time writing about this, but it's just that my head is full of the crap you've been pouring into it, and i've got to let it out somewhere...."

"if only a person had an off switch that you could flip when you wish that person would just cease to be until you wanted them to come back like a little kid who thinks when his hands covers his eyes you can't see him so as not to cause weird paradoxes...."


these were several of the beginnings i had started to write for this post but then decided to abandon for one reason or another. but they all fit. and i really don't want to pay it any attention. like if i leave it alone it'll go away on it's own. but i know it won't. and it doesn't. it grows and grows. it's a childish game. and while i'm preoccupied everyday with activities geared for kids ages 5 and under, i'm really not in the mood to deal with your crap.

like it's some secret members only club without the dresscode. secret blogs are dumb. aren't all blogs secret until you tell someone? if you want to be free to say what you want, by all means say it. and if you don't want people to get upset over it, don't tell them wear they can read it. don't even tell anyone you have one. ridiculous. props go out to my cuz for not feeling the need to censor anything she feels the need to say out over the blogosphere. and she can't drive yet. i'd say i expect more from you, but you hate that word. that p-word. oh, that dreaded p-word. you're so damn full of p-ness, everybody sees it. when are you gonna do something about it?

who in there right mind has ever limited a friend to asking only three questions a day? who in their right mind takes that person seriously? hmm...probably the same person who believes a story about having your first cigarette at an nba allstar party.

damn, do you know how frustrating it is to have to be so careful not to tick you off by pushing the wrong button everytime we talk? do you? do you know how much it makes me want to scream everytime you take offense at the slightest comment as if it should even hold the slightest influence over anything you say or do? do you?serious...do you really?

i've said you can't run away from problems. no matter where you go, they'll always haunt you. you can't create some geographical destination that isolates you completely from all the problems. cuz it's still in your head. and for the same reason, time doesn't wash it away either.

it's amazing how sometimes you'll be talking to someone and you don't know what it is but the light bulb shows up right there above your head and you realize how fake they are. how absofuckinlutely fake the person you're talking to is. how they can stand there and tell you something and the poetic string of words begins to change to "blah blah blah blah blah blah" and so you start to laugh because it's so easy to see now and you wonder how how you got pulled in and why you never figured this out a long time ago. and the more you pay attention to it, the more you realize the paper-thin facade could come crashing down with the greatest of ease, and everyone would see the wizard behind the curtain.

i watched nightmare before christmas relatively recently. you are the mayor. you're in a position to maintain control. but you don't use it. you can't. you're not jack. and you know it. and the other face comes when no one's around. and the self pity pours out. if you had a guitar and a notebook and a pen, i'd bet you'd write great emo songs.

to think that you're alone. ...... i have absolutely nothing to say to that. no cornucopia of words to spill out from this keyboard could ever do it justice. it begs too much.

oppositely, there is so much to say. so so much.

consider the bridge en fuego.

tomorrow i'll begin collecting toothpicks to rebuild it. i'll be a while.
- posted by yeah...about that... @ 9:14 PM