Im reviewing 8 wrinkly cocktail napkins that i scribbled on at a concert tonight while stoned and feeling old. im listening to george michaels "father figure" on repeat. great fucking song. anyway, here's what i came up with. if you hate it, sorry.
(the dark solitude, the naked, the free, the calm wave of sex on my skin)
when she was 7 they called her "the 40 year old midget". when she was 12 she was an old soul. she knew so much! she knew too much... knew it all well.....when she was 18 he wrote a poem a story a paper about her. she grew to like alone. she preferred alone still conquering alone feared the pain of alone loved the weightlessness of alone. it took practice and patience.
(sex kitten love tiger a stillborn baby of empathy)
shocked at its crispness its cleanliness its manliness its smoothness. not-a-one disappointment in the soft skin of this new slick soft hard penetrating loveliness. it reminded me of a gust of wind and fluffy clouds that move quickly.
"You know, this is the second time you've told me about a movie you saw alone but later wished you were with someone to talk about it with."
Fuck. he called me the fuck out.
(this marks my first trip to los angeles, the worst hangover of my whole life and most terrible haircut of my 20's)
"How the hell does her ass detach from her body like that?" I dont know. it just does. any wit that comes to mind, it just does. how do i know what to say or what to do or how to kiss or when to relate. i dont know. i just do.
(uuhhh...thats what im fuckin sayin)
and why cant you stop for us? for me at least? for yourself at least? i never understood it. im trying!!! this path has turned into a maze, hasnt it?. where are you? where am i? if you listen you can hear my footsteps on the other side of the hedge....please dont give up. just start from the start. there is a way out of here I PROMISE .....if you have the patience to find it.
(whatchugonnadowithallthatjunk?allthatjunkinsidethattrunk?)
really though:one of the best summers. the spontaneity. the growth. the meandering.
(sexy nude bitches who do whatever the fuck they want-not ever sorry bout it)
the spectrum of myself has broadened. all of those colors combined and then separated at once into distinct shapes and patterns of all of me and what i am and what i do. although my roles are never going to change the soundtrack of the times surely will.
(....its so fucked up because for some awful reason i really wanted to die this night.just.stop.living)
ahh you can see it in my eyes there cant you? what a waste of time to hate yourself .....if only i could hug myself..and love myself more....and assure myself that it will all change in some way.
thats the promise we made.
(oh of course you will be!)
i want to write a book called "Shiny Stories: While First Dates and One Night Stands May Be a Waste of Time, They Sure Entertain Your Friends"
(baby give him a chance dont be such a scared-y cat)
I know dont want to get married. maybe not ever. but i do want to be in love and i want a baby. i think. is this possible or are we all destined for failure in companionship? wtf.
(Tennis, anyone?)
its my body .its mine for life. i love it i hate it i laugh at it i look at it and its still so loyal to me. i do need a hug. and a kiss on the head on the shoulder on the eyelid. there. i admit it. are you happy?
(and that's when she checked her own pulse; it's ok keep going)
even without a plan, things unfold. they become. im always young im always old. because it isnt my plan. it just is.
