o man that is sick.  how do i fix the resolution...sheila, is that andy mills t-shirt? i don't have to hide anymore.  no one knows how good it feels! 

currently...dripping dry.

Currently Playing from a basement on the hill By Elliott Smith see related

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i told my mom everything. aint that a trip. 24 years old and confiding in his mother.  she told me of her concern and of her prayers.  and how they've been answered.  convinced my mum has a beautiful relationship with her Savior...one i may have to forego.  i'm scared really.  all day long a verse has been running through my head.

so the struggle lives in this...arrows pointing...  those being my words, and my thoughts, are they strung together because they are thoughtful and sound good when you read them out loud?  or can i say they are real because they came from inside me?  imagine me writing from the perspective of, or being cast as, a naked widow.  i may do the job well, but that doesn't mean i can empathize.

i'm actually healing from all this.  saturday night closed the door.  life A and life B.  my sucker status is waning.  confidence in me is waxing.  me.  its been like getting to know someone common and exciting.  predictable and easy.  all phases and pauses and never leaving one another's side.

she said she doesn't think she knows me anymore.  i would argue that she never, ever knew me.  actually i wouldn't argue.  i don't argue.  i walk away.  thank god.

touch*  i have no thoughts on this matter, but i remember the last person i hugged and the last person who hugged me.  weird that they are different people?  so puny and tired and staring out the window until something bright moves.  i've tried talking about it.  and prayed, kind of.  but still i can't stop.  i really think i could say the same things over and over (thinking) maybe record last october, florida/australia, chicago, st louis...and play it back, so i could hear myself quoting the things she said, and the moves she put on me...and there that sounds small and i am small.  but middle aged women should not play pinball alone.  and when a young man knows his will and testament, and by leaving and dying, we now recognize life and art in a young woman.  so sorry to have stolen it away with my presence and shoved it back into you upon my exit.  i can't believe it was wasted; would she mention me and light the room.  or would she sleep over and he mean well by tumbling awake on the couch.  like an exclamation.  popping quarters and calling next. dips and flippers and a balancing act will gauge and pull the trigger.    

Currently Playing There Are Giants in the Earth By 89 Cubs see related

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eschatology, huh?  welp, see ya later...