born into this mess
i got the gimmes
just added a wishlist. more to remind myself of things I want when I have money again. of course y'all are welcome to buy me things.
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Young Woman Marked
The tattoos on her shoulders
were invitations
to a dance that I long ago
decided against,
preferring to stay home with
my books and the knife,
left open on the coffeetable,
like a key.
one of the only poems i've ever had written about me. found it on my livejournal, readin back. what a privelege to have such a nice poem written about me.
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eulogy for sam philips
So Sam Philips died and I went to his memorial service. Lots of old folks, sequins, and his sweet Cadillac up on the stage lit with floodlights. As soon as I got into the lobby a newspaper writer stopped me to interview me cos he said he wanted to talk to young people about Sam. I stuttered out some shit about rocknroll being my life and kids not appreciating Memphis and then thought of many better things to say later.
I mean, I have driven by Sun Studios probly like 50 times already this year and I never really thought about it, what it means. I always think of that scene in
Mystery Train with those cute Japanese kids, but not much else. But really, there are so many things that are part of my life that are more or less influenced by or have their origins in Sun Studios. Things that make me Me.
That one great line in that movie I was talking about where that Japanese kid is looking out the window of the old Arcade Hotel and says, "It feels cool to be in Memphis... Home of Elvis Presley..." My music nazi first real boyfriend who got me into Howlin Wolf. the Velvet Underground. Lucero- "the blood in your heart is rocknroll". Going to Graceland late at night with Sarah and Jessica to spraypaint on the walls. Nirvana even.
Listening to Roy Orbison. That Spanish cover of "Crying" from
Mulholland Drive. Listening to Will Oldham (who is god) and Johnny Cash sing a duet. Shit, Johnny Cash a doing Nine Inch Nails cover on repeat as I try to get high enough to stop hurting.
Every single band from Memphis ever. Rockabilly hair.
Shit. I dunno.
Whiskey and coke here on this Thursday night in Memphis.
So I'll close here with the three Universal Truths that they read at the service:
1. All people from Memphis speak in parables.
2. Women don't like steel guitar. (well, I do, and maggie does, but i didn't write this)
3. Throw enough shit against a wall and somebody gonna see a picture in it.
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s & m or ones and zeros
I watched
Secretary the other night. It had to have been the hottest movie I have ever seen. Better than porn, this elaborate 2.5 hour lustfest is pretty much the sexual fantasy I have had since I first saw
Labyrinth as a little girl. A big strong mean man who will tie me up and hurt me and take real good care of me when I have been bad. I had that for a while and fucked it up, I think the emotional release provided by being tied up, spit on, and humiliated was too much for me. I got really attached.
I totally ID'd with the protagonist, meeknmild Maggie from
Donnie Darko. Burning and cutting when the pain is too much. Except that I've traded the razors and the lighters and the glowing hot coils of flowerarranging wire and the cigarettes held long enough against my forearm to stop hurting for other, more socially acceptable destructions. Drinkin and smokin and fuckin around. Hell yeah.
Yeah, right.
Terrible loneliness lately, probably the result of having no internet and being forced to go and seek out human companionship rather than spending hours typing and talking in little boxes on the screen. It gets worse when I spend too much time with my friends and don't have any time alone. I'm getting apathetic again, all I want to do is nothing. At the same time I am more deperately broke than I have ever been, and work is still inconsistent because of the storm.
Off to the Sam Philips memorial service downtown.
Tomorrow me and the Boy are going to see a movie. We haven't hung out in a while and I have to say I am a bit scared. I went off on him last Saturday, told him I couldn't be around him for a while, then called him last night when I was tired and lonely.
Just a little bit of pain, you can turn and walk away, you know it ain't no good...
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shit
I got so lonesome last night that I couldn't sleep. This guy I dated for a while called me drunk and we talked about how much we used to like each other and how I fucked it up and then he rubbed in the fact that he has a new girlfriend and that I'm alone.
I still like him. It sucks.
I still like a lot of people that I used to like, I make up all this shit so I have something to think about.
I had so much to say but now that I finally have a place to sit down with internet I can't think of anything to say.
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I guess I'll see you around sometime
When she walks sometimes she holds her arms out almost perpendicular like a little kid wading into the ocean.
This morning she couldn't sleep and she was too hungry to eat and the power had gone out again so she sat in the bathtub in the dark with the water hot on her back and stared at her feet and felt nothing. The shower hummed and her bones all hurt and the numbness in her belly spread and filled up her eyes with splinters.
She thinks she may be in love and she thinks that she will never love anyone again. Last night she kept dreaming that strangers came into her house and got into bed with her and she felt uncomfortable because she had gone to sleep naked.
These are the thoughts that line up in rows and march in her head like the changing of the guard in front of some tiny makebelieve palace in some dusty attic 57 years ago:
Do you think he wants to fuck me? And if he does and I do will he still talk to me or will it be like it was before? And why are we even bothering to be friends again if every time we get drunk within 150 feet of each other I am going to drool on him like some dog in heat
Is my body ugly, these asymmetrical breasts, these lumpy thighs, this copper hair... is my body beautiful, these tattoos that mark me forever as Sue, the slender grace of my shins, the freckle spattered curve of my cheek
and with no one's hands to encircle my waist from behind as I look in the mirror, will I learn to be complete without anyone, can I fill up this space in my skin with enough love to keep it breathing
What will I do when she comes back, will I try to kiss her, will I want to put my arms around her and crawl up inside her, will it be enough, will she be enough, can I fight off this loneliness alone without trying to fuck her and what happens if I do, will I still want to talk to her, will she really always love me, will our pain combined be too much for the world to bear, will this planet fall out of orbit with the weight of our dual rejection, plummeting through the vacuum and cooling to a charred cinder
that
floats
alone
Today I woke up feeling like shit and I went to bed feeling like shit and I didn't eat enough yesterday and now I feel sick and sad and lonely. Brandon and I are going to go give our new landlord money and look at the place and see how much work we need to do, he is so excited that I know seeing him later will cheer me up, but until then I sit at the library with this breakfast like a lump of tar in my gut and my bones all hurt and I miss Sarah too much to say her name out loud.
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i've done so wrong for so long...
we went and saw the wizard of oz and i drank some whiskey and i thought about making a pass at the boy sitting next to me. thought better of it and felt like shit for even having the idea.
felt like shit for feeling like shit, felt like shit for wanting anyone but Her, She's quite possibly the One and it terrifies me, She is the person I want to wake up next to when I am 80, so why do I have this roving eye. I wish I could never want another boy as long as i lived, I wish could be happy, i wish I wanted to be happy. I wish what i had were good enough. I wish I knew what I had-
It's because I know I'm not good enough, because I can't ask her to wait until I am good enough, I can't say, here is my heart but I can't really give it to you, but you can hold it for a second just to imagine what it would be like if it were yours, ok, now give it back and wait for me to be ready.
So I'll keep fucking around and what.
broke down. worn out. low down. lonesome.
my shoulders feel like i have been hanging on to the edge of a cliff for days waiting for rescue. where are my tinman scarecrow and lion?
in other news, i have found an amazing place to live with amazing roommates and i am more excited about it than i thought possible.
I sure do heart drunk blogging.
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