ma soeur est enceinte
elle est seulement seize
le coeur de ma grand-mere palpite
chaque fois elle parle d'il

so last night for the second time, i exchanged exhilaratingly sexually loaded witticisms with my little black haired ponytailed vixen, who teases and flirts me up to no end and for whom i "have to wait till sunday for", when i'm coming over to "walk her dog" (her words). a sunday that may never come since this is basically a thunderstorm of my subconscious, conscious, id, ego, superego, and what have you. i am sleeping soundly during these tart trysts "in real life". what is that though> and where> and whence?

there are many suspicions i have about dreams. come visit me, mr. freud, and we shall have a nice chat.

my life is consumed as of late. i suppose by the ordinary of getting through. but again, to what> and how now? perhaps the little moments of transcend, which are something i often have to coax my sense and senses into realizing, are all that life truly has to offer. i do not mean this glumly, not at all, those little moments come from everywhere and nowhere and are wonderful, but quiet. almost ordinarily so. i don't know quite what i mean. perhaps that the dazzlesparklewhirr isn't quite doing it for me anymore, yet in its true form i'd like it to, yet i know that i'm not capable or even very willing to chase it around anymore.

does anyone out there know of a sweat lodge that doesn't have a problem with strange random people just showing up? i am very much in need of one.

i think it's advertising
and/or the man
some kind of sunday blues
a never used to be
no aloneness please
help if you are human i need you
just the sight of a face will do
(and i hate that about me and about you)
so like gum on the sidewalk
must teach myself how to melt
only to become solid again
maybe at night when the world has cooled down.

hi yall. i have a summer cold, and it's the blues. hm. what else. i have not seen anyone from e-strip in weeks, since the courtyard bbq. and that's the blues too. maybe the food was horrendous, yes? and worse, the beer watered down?
alack, perhaps it is my lassitude rather than the quality of my victuals keeping me away from droogies. do not mistake lassitude for pococurance, however.

i took a personality quizzy quiz today, and it told me i was an evil genius. muah-hah-hah-haaaaaaaahhhhhh. watch out. i could be cookin up a plan at any moment. since i am poor at cookin up plans, and generally un-evil, i think the quiz was off a bit.

well, okay. this is a class D post but ay me. summertime in buffalo spells time slipping like liquid. slip. slop. slippety. slop. hey look, it's fall again. how morose of me. i duly apologize.

• holly*--my auntie just bought an old junker of a house so coincidentally, i participated in a house gutting just a few days ago, during which i stepped on an upturned nail with one foot, went to steady myself with the other, and stepped on a nail with that one too. ha! i guess that can happen figuratively as well during the 'gutted as a person' process. i think i'd like that process to happen to me. i have gone through it somewhat, but it happens so subtly and gradually that i can only see it when something new emerges. then it's like- hey, i guess that was in the works for a while. maybe that's not quite gutting then, because the actual house gutting was messy, dusty, dirty, exhausting, and more than a little violent. shit was flying everywhere. the front yard was overflowing with debris waiting to be whisked off to the dump. i think i need that variety. are you going through one?

well, to those of you out of town or otherwise engaged, you shall be sorely missed at blue heron if you aren't going, which i assume. i will party and dance small pieces of my butt off for you, and will think of you during my sixth or so bloody mary. mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. bloody marys.

it has occurred to me that getting a frickin cell phone has changed my life rather significantly. i can't think of a single thought i had today. why have thoughts when you can talk on the phone? talk talk talk, gabb, gab, chat, chit, and rat-a-tat-tat-t-dow. i really hate being on the phone. i really, rilly do. when i am not i simply sit, tho. and watch birds. eventually it prompts me to call someone. since my gramma does not work, i call her often.

where are you reepicheep?

so now i am having a beer, and dancin wit myseh-elf (oh oh) via a gift called writing. thoughts in the last five minutes:

pink is for minks.

work would be good, if you "earned" in a day what you "earned" in a week.

somewhere out there, a motorcycle has crashed.

now if i could somehow smush these three thoughts into a story, but oh, to do it plausibly. ohhhhh. woe. i am unbrilliant at present. help! i enjoy myself too often! candy at work is slowly becoming the highlight of my day. the pleasing green background of e-strip is like a delicious margarita, making me want to get a blender, stat.

three boobed woman, muselike, staring mystere at a skyscape seemingly bare, visit me. we shall meet in our dreams at the spider lounge, where you will be drinking a milky elixir made from unknown precious goat fluids and i shall be smoking a sorrel cigar as i approach you. and our discourse shall shake the time space continuum. if you please, and i will sacrifice to you a bottle of cold duck and five shoots of scallion and call on hermes to witness.