Today is awesome. I woke up to the radio playing that new Muse song I love. Then I remembered I totally made out with Stacy last night. We weren't too drunk, so I know she's into me. Then like at around noon, I got a call from my folks and my dad was like "We are sending you some cash for your birthday next month," which is so awesome because they are going to be out of the country, like in Paris, so I'm totally watching their place. But with some extra cash, I can totally get a Xbox 360. Shit. No, I need to save that money, 'cause if Stacy and I start going out, shit's going to get expensive. God, i hope she's secretly high maintenance.
Well, whatever happens. Ok, so anyway, a little later my bro Mark came over with a copy of the song I wrote he got burned. It's so sweet. I mean, It's just a single, but the CD looks totally legit. I mean, straight off the shelves of Best Buy legit. I am going places. I just got to get this into the hand of some cool people who really like good music. I mean, hell, Mark said it was the best song he's heard since the new Foo Fighter's "The Pretender". I mean it's good, but I don't know about that.
But yeah, oh, and so for tonight I'm going to have Sarah, Michelle, and Todd over for poker. I totally think we will make it strip poker, cause I know Sarah, and I'm pretty sure Michelle will be cool with it too. Best day ever.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Dieu trompeur
I thought I heard my dad speaking, but when I turned off the television there was only the sound of the refrigerator and the drip of the faucet. Odd. I miss him. He was a good man, regardless of what mother says.
There really isn't anything on television now and I am pretty sure there won't be in an hour. I really should go to bed, but I know I won't be able to sleep. I would rather just crash on the couch. It always seems more comfortable than my bed, more warm, less alone. Like at any moment someone I love could knock on the door and I would already be in the living room, and I would invite them in and we would have a beer and talk about the latest Mets game. My dad loved the Mets.
God, I could swear I heard him. He sounded like he always did, with the subtle rasp and grain that came with his affinity for Camel 100's. What a great guy. On my 18th he gave me the pocket knife he got by saving up his Camel Cash. I still use the damn thing every day.
It sounded just like him. It sounded something like "And we aren't going to go there again, something something I gotta, something something Dorothy." Dorothy? I don't know a Dorothy. Do I know a Dorothy? Did Dad know a Dorothy? Mother did say he had had an affair. Maybe it was this girl Dorothy.
That's insane, it wasn't dad. He's gone, I was just hearing things. It's way too late. But it sounded just like him. His cadence and everything. It was like he was in the other room, my bedroom.
I don't think I am going to go to bed. If it is his ghost, I'm not saying it is 'cause ghosts don't exist, but if it is his ghost I really don't want to be around it. Him. I don't want to be around him. I mean, I do. I would. I would if he was alive, but he's not, and I don't like the idea that he's floating around my home talking to the woman he cheated with.
I mean I miss the guy, but ghost don't exist and even if they did, I wouldn't want anything to do with them.
I am just going to quickly grab a blanket and a pillow and sleep on the couch. There aren't ghosts, Dad's dead. I miss him though. I swore I could have heard him.
There really isn't anything on television now and I am pretty sure there won't be in an hour. I really should go to bed, but I know I won't be able to sleep. I would rather just crash on the couch. It always seems more comfortable than my bed, more warm, less alone. Like at any moment someone I love could knock on the door and I would already be in the living room, and I would invite them in and we would have a beer and talk about the latest Mets game. My dad loved the Mets.
God, I could swear I heard him. He sounded like he always did, with the subtle rasp and grain that came with his affinity for Camel 100's. What a great guy. On my 18th he gave me the pocket knife he got by saving up his Camel Cash. I still use the damn thing every day.
It sounded just like him. It sounded something like "And we aren't going to go there again, something something I gotta, something something Dorothy." Dorothy? I don't know a Dorothy. Do I know a Dorothy? Did Dad know a Dorothy? Mother did say he had had an affair. Maybe it was this girl Dorothy.
That's insane, it wasn't dad. He's gone, I was just hearing things. It's way too late. But it sounded just like him. His cadence and everything. It was like he was in the other room, my bedroom.
I don't think I am going to go to bed. If it is his ghost, I'm not saying it is 'cause ghosts don't exist, but if it is his ghost I really don't want to be around it. Him. I don't want to be around him. I mean, I do. I would. I would if he was alive, but he's not, and I don't like the idea that he's floating around my home talking to the woman he cheated with.
I mean I miss the guy, but ghost don't exist and even if they did, I wouldn't want anything to do with them.
I am just going to quickly grab a blanket and a pillow and sleep on the couch. There aren't ghosts, Dad's dead. I miss him though. I swore I could have heard him.
One Piece.
I got a call last night from a tenant about a leaky faucet. She was the single women on the fifth floor. I think she is Armenian. Pretty good looking and if I didn't live in the same building I would have asked her out. She has this soft way of talking that makes me feel sleepy but excited. I always know I have good dreams after I talk to her.
Her problem is pretty common. The landlord won't let go of a single red cent, even if it would save me the trouble of climbing Mount Everest. God, how amazing would that be, to stand on the peak and look over the whole world. I bet it's even better than standing on the roof. From here I can see miles. I think I can even see the apartment on fifth where my ex lives. She's a lot like the woman on the fifth floor, she made me dream good dreams.
We went to Florida once, when we thought we loved each other. She always wore the most amazing bathing suits. It always made me horny. Thinking about her still does. There is something so sexy about a one piece bathing suit. I think mystery is the key to romance. Never play your cards, never show your hand. Maybe that dooms romance too.
I think it's a middle road. Like if a woman is too dressed up, she looks impossible to love. But if she's naked, you see to much and it makes it hard to love. You need a little truth and a little lie. A one piece bathing suit is right in the middle.
Maybe all of life is about the middle parts. You can't be a saint, but you shouldn't be a devil. You don't want to be alone, but you don't want to be bothered. Seeing the woman on the fifth floor was perfect. She makes me not feel alone, but I don't have to really deal with her. She gets the benefit of my handy-work, I get the benefits of her soft voice. As long as neither of us is too greedy, we will be fine.
Oh, she give me good dreams.
Her problem is pretty common. The landlord won't let go of a single red cent, even if it would save me the trouble of climbing Mount Everest. God, how amazing would that be, to stand on the peak and look over the whole world. I bet it's even better than standing on the roof. From here I can see miles. I think I can even see the apartment on fifth where my ex lives. She's a lot like the woman on the fifth floor, she made me dream good dreams.
We went to Florida once, when we thought we loved each other. She always wore the most amazing bathing suits. It always made me horny. Thinking about her still does. There is something so sexy about a one piece bathing suit. I think mystery is the key to romance. Never play your cards, never show your hand. Maybe that dooms romance too.
I think it's a middle road. Like if a woman is too dressed up, she looks impossible to love. But if she's naked, you see to much and it makes it hard to love. You need a little truth and a little lie. A one piece bathing suit is right in the middle.
Maybe all of life is about the middle parts. You can't be a saint, but you shouldn't be a devil. You don't want to be alone, but you don't want to be bothered. Seeing the woman on the fifth floor was perfect. She makes me not feel alone, but I don't have to really deal with her. She gets the benefit of my handy-work, I get the benefits of her soft voice. As long as neither of us is too greedy, we will be fine.
Oh, she give me good dreams.
Fidel et Ratio
It is late. My firstborn just went to bed after a long debate over why drawing on himself isn't appropriate. He'll still do it. Hell still draw picture of skulls and guns on his biceps, but it doesn't really matter. They all look like misshapen bowling balls and twigs, so there really isn't a problem. I mostly just don't like having to scrub the ink stains off his sleeves.
We need to get cable. Ive seen this episode of Raymond twice already. I should just go to bed. My husband is off at a men's Bible study. He wont be home until ten, but then hell just want to watch the news anyway. Did he take his keys? If he did I could go to bed now. Ill just change into my pajamas and read.
I hate reading, but I feel so guilty if I don't. If I don't read I have nothing to talk about except my soaps, and Jake doesn't like me watching them. He says that they are addicting and that they let Satan into our house. Hes the one who brings Satan, not me. Hes the one with the pornography problem.
I do like to read Jake's Popular Science magazines, so long as I don't find a Playboy page folded inside. The stuff they are doing with science is really amazing. You know they can inject a chip under the skin of your children so if they are lost the police can find them? My husband says that it will lead to the mark of the beast, but I don't worry. I would rather feel safe about our sons than worry about the end of the world. I don't think the end will come for a while, but everyone in our study group says its only years away.
They only say that because they don't like where things are going. They don't know that cell-phones are safe and they think space travel is an insult to God. They don't read Popular Science. They don't know. Things work. God made technology just as much as he made Adam and Eve. Just as he made the oceans. Just as he made sex.
The pornography is taking its toll on our marriage. Jake wont touch me. I understand its because his hormones are going through a change just like my menopause. We are all systems, systems of chemicals. If my husband would actually read Popular Science and not just hide pictures of naked women, he would know this. I guess that's not within his nature.
God set all this into motion, like the big bang that our sons devil-teachers teach him about. I mean, you have to look at science. God made science. God made the natural laws. I'm here because of a long chain of things. My husband says I'm being irrational. He says I'm being blasphemous. He's the one who has to look at naked women.
Maybe I'm wrong, but if I am it is because of a long chain of things that made me think like this. God's the one that made me wrong. Hes the one that made my husband with his addiction. Hes the one that made our youngest get sick last week. But hes good. So these things have to be necessary, they have to be good. Just because I don't know how, doesn't mean it cant be.
John 1:5
et lux in tenebris lucet et tenebrae eam non conprehenderunt
We need to get cable. Ive seen this episode of Raymond twice already. I should just go to bed. My husband is off at a men's Bible study. He wont be home until ten, but then hell just want to watch the news anyway. Did he take his keys? If he did I could go to bed now. Ill just change into my pajamas and read.
I hate reading, but I feel so guilty if I don't. If I don't read I have nothing to talk about except my soaps, and Jake doesn't like me watching them. He says that they are addicting and that they let Satan into our house. Hes the one who brings Satan, not me. Hes the one with the pornography problem.
I do like to read Jake's Popular Science magazines, so long as I don't find a Playboy page folded inside. The stuff they are doing with science is really amazing. You know they can inject a chip under the skin of your children so if they are lost the police can find them? My husband says that it will lead to the mark of the beast, but I don't worry. I would rather feel safe about our sons than worry about the end of the world. I don't think the end will come for a while, but everyone in our study group says its only years away.
They only say that because they don't like where things are going. They don't know that cell-phones are safe and they think space travel is an insult to God. They don't read Popular Science. They don't know. Things work. God made technology just as much as he made Adam and Eve. Just as he made the oceans. Just as he made sex.
The pornography is taking its toll on our marriage. Jake wont touch me. I understand its because his hormones are going through a change just like my menopause. We are all systems, systems of chemicals. If my husband would actually read Popular Science and not just hide pictures of naked women, he would know this. I guess that's not within his nature.
God set all this into motion, like the big bang that our sons devil-teachers teach him about. I mean, you have to look at science. God made science. God made the natural laws. I'm here because of a long chain of things. My husband says I'm being irrational. He says I'm being blasphemous. He's the one who has to look at naked women.
Maybe I'm wrong, but if I am it is because of a long chain of things that made me think like this. God's the one that made me wrong. Hes the one that made my husband with his addiction. Hes the one that made our youngest get sick last week. But hes good. So these things have to be necessary, they have to be good. Just because I don't know how, doesn't mean it cant be.
John 1:5
et lux in tenebris lucet et tenebrae eam non conprehenderunt
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