it's not your fault, koko bear.

muddles puddles and sunshine.

i haven't forgotten about you.

join in and play.

i guess i could have noted this in my previous post, but i feel it deserves its own; and that you all deserve to know....rock of love ashley, paragon of elegance and beauty, has replaced rock of love megan as the official love of my life. want her need her love her.

giant germ.

i've been pretty much dead again. the flu and two ear infections (my third ear is, as of yet, unaffected). ill tell ya, man, healthwise, between sinusitis, hyperglycemia, colds, teeth-pulling, bronchitis, and now this nonsense (to say nothing of father and joeys' surgeries and whatnot) you can take 2009 and give it back to the indians. i mean, i dont WANT to use this thing just to bitch, but, i mean, it is what it is. wtfuck that's supposed to mean.

finished "when you are engulfed in flames" by sedaris yesterday....underwhelmed. Always, have his books made me laugh out loud, literally, even upon repeat readings. Not this one, not even once. Less about Hugh, more about his familly would be great. It also read as a bit self-referential and self-congratulatory, i thought. Usually sedaris utilises a more self-loathing approach, i thought, so that was weird. obvs, it had strong points, just few and far between. AH WELL SUCH IS LIFE.

i was thinking the other day about how whenever we were little kids our dad would tell us that only white trash uses satellite dishes. Whenever we were driving somewhere, though, lets face it, it was most likely up to where my mothers from, an area some (i.e., dad) refer to as hillbilly country, he would invariably point out each and every satellite dish and note the alleged white-trashness and likely neer-do-well tendencies of said dishs' owners. joey, of course, was very delayed in his speech...he did not begin to talk until he was four or five, if memory serves. some of his very first words? passing a satellite dish, pointing, and EMPHATICALLY yelling "why rash why rash!". Yes, "white trash, white trash", to the beginning speaker. daddy done brought us up right.

falling up.

sometimes there is not a doubt in my mind that you are all i have ever needed.

questions i got at work the other day:

Q)What is the average size penis?

A) According to AskMen.com, the average penis is 3.43 inches when flaccid, and 5.8 inches when erect.

i get that question at least once, but usually much more per shift. also, who has the world's largest penis? It's jonah falcon, i believe, at, 13.5 inches. I was once asked if, laid end to end, how many of poor mr. falcons (seems it would be both a gift and a curse, really) would it take to a) reach the moon, and b) circumference the earth. i remember neither of the exact figures, but trust that they were staggering.......even mind-boggling.

Q)Whats that movie, with that guy, that was in that other movie...with that dog?

A)There are many films with men and dogs, from last year's hit Marley & Me to classics like Sounder, and Old Yeller.

like, damn son, really? i hope you was being a smartass with that question.

Q)Why does sparkle drink so much?

A) Sparkle may drink too much alcohol in order to feel drunk or escape the problems he/she is having.

i assumed that they meant alcohol cause upon first glance i of course assumed that sparkle was a person, maybe a stripper or a drag queen of some stripe, what with the name sparkle. or maybe i was projecting. i suppose it, it meaning sparkle, of course, may have been a cat or a gerbil, or some such shit, too, i guess. in which case not drinking enough would be symptomatic of renal failure, or simple dehydration.

in keeping with the cat motif....

Q)Can u get high from inhaling cat urine?

A) Although cat urine has a foul odor and has been rumored to give off a high, there is no scientific answer as to whether it really does or not.

its kinda like ewwy why would ya wanna but hey man its like me and anne have always said we take res hits cause we need to not cause we want to...same kind of thing i guess or perhaps im just rationalizing on this poor blokes behalf.

Q) What is a penis?

A)The penis is the external male sex organ which contains the urinary tract & is used for reproduction.

File this one under "if you have to ask...". and, yes, our clientele is really, truly, this penis-centric. between this and horoscopes, goddamn if i have time for anything else. been workin three weeks, and only TWO shark questions! only TWO! and that was specified as one of my areas of expertise!


Q) my ex, its hard for us to communicate now that its over
A) When communicating with an ex, it is important not to bring up old issues, and to be empathetic. More?
Q) ya i would try to talk to him, but everyone thinks i hate him, because after hmy badly he hurt me i should. but i guess i am deeply in love with him too.
but i dunno. its hard to talk to him about it. he avoids situations like that sometimes. well certain ones. Well, we are not even cloud to be together. my mom doesnt trust him.
A) If you really do want him back and you both are ready, have a serious talk; talking with your mom might also help her trust you and him.
Q)O ok. so i really miss my ex, and something tells me that he is in love with me, but he has had a reputation as a player for a long time so its hard for
him to go back to me. at least thats what i think and observe. i work with him and see him and school. he already has a new girl but everytime he sees me
A)Try communicating with your ex-boyfriend by phone or email & ask him if he still has feelings for you.
Q)even when he is with her, he walks with me and hugs me. what do you think?
A)Maybe talk to him in private about what you feel for him and about his actions toward you. Good luck!

they more mixed up than a milkshake. also, that was both physically and mentally exhausting for me. more than i could ever ever express in one blog post. ever.

and i try to leave but you know me i come back when you want me to.

pete the p.o'd postal worker.

"The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry."



hemingway said that. my dad's sick....his heart. headed up to phoenixville now. i don't pray, but....

outside over there.

exhibit a: cozy.
exhibit b: weed pipe cozy! yay!

that being said, here is a story i wrote a little bit ago. i call it "sardines", because i'm very original like that.

You cut the headlights a half mile before you reach the meeting place. Your radio, and Elliott Smith’s doomed voice along with it, you cut off, I don’t know, a quarter mile before that.

The ski masks and assorted bandannas that will be covering your faces, you put those on as that distinctly church-shaped behemoth of a building, centuries old, once undeniably grand and now crumbling into the landscape and latticed with ivy, comes into your limited and obstructed field of vision.

Sardines.

Sardines we said, sardines is what we called it. Nothing more than a bastardized hide and go seek, a slight departure from your garden variety children’s game. A game in which all one needs is a group of friends, a lack of good sense, a dark and moonless night, an abandoned building, a handle or two of cheap vodka, and the feelings of invincibility which only youth can bring.

Sardines is the name of the game, now here’s the rub; the bravest or drunkest of your party (and how the too are entwined!) hides alone. Hides alone, mindful of loose floorboards, derelicts, and roving bands of mice and rats. Hides alone, in this archaic monument to the abstract concept of God. Hides alone. The rest of you attempt to find him, and upon doing so, perch, squeeze, or bend and hide there a long with him. A game where, if successful, all seekers become hiders; all hiders, all crammed and jammed together, balanced on cramping legs and trying not to make a sound, in the pitch black of a building without electricity for decades; sardines.

Our game took us all over that church, guided only by the lights of our cellular phones and by the various substances consumed. We found each other in the bell tower, where no bells sound anymore. We found ourselves perched along, step by step, a white marble staircase, a white so stark, so bright, that not even the pervasive and utter darkness could muffle its glow. We found ourselves attempting to squeeze beneath the altar, the crucifix hanging mastodonic and menacing above our heads, Jesus Christ in his final and private throes, unaffected by the sacrilege taking place at his very feet.

The final hiding took place around the baptismal well, still filled after all these years. I was the last to find them, this time; I traversed a hall, negotiated a turn, went through a door, and then I heard it: various shouts and screams from my friends, those poor wretches, as disconsolate and sardonic as I; “Stop! Be careful!” “EMMA? Don’t fall in the Jesus water!” “Finally, you found us! Do you have the last bottle?”. We sat and we drank, then, til that last bottle was as dry as the deserts of Jerusalem.

As I was the last to enter, I was also the last to leave. My friends filed out, and yet I sat, sat on that narrow ledge with the stagnant water beneath me. I dangled my feet above it, and I sat. I sat and I thought of the men who once built this church, our Irish or Italian grandfathers, new to this country, sneered at, yet good enough to build the places of worship. You think of all the thousands of parishioners who once moved through these halls, many of them absolved of their original sin in these very waters. You think of the priests, black robed and long faced, the years of study and the lifetime of celibacy they gave up for their beliefs. You wonder what they, the congregation, the workmen, the clergy, would think of you; a group of half drunk and irreverent suburban teenagers disrespecting utterly and totally the place they believe to be literally God’s House. You feel ashamed, and you wonder where this life could ever lead. You worry for you, and for your friends, for whenever the bottom falls out, for whenever that proverbial pendulum swings back.

i really hate capital letters. i'd go back through and take them all out but i just dont know where i'd find the ambition, you know?