I forgot to tell you all that I went to the Yankees game last Saturday and it was so much fuckin' fun. I got to sit behind home plate like, 20 rows back. Oh man. I'm such a Valley girl, right Kyle? haha. Thanks for taking me. :)

Oh, and I LOVE RYAN CABRERA. Yeah, I said it. He's amazing.

One last post before I retire for the night.

The past few weeks have been so incredibly amazingly fun. Honestly. And I couldn't have done it without any of you, and you know who all of you are. Thanks for making my senior year kick so much ass.

As for today, well, today sucked this morning. I had to go through a whole bunch of meetings and ended up missing classes I needed to be in. On top of that, had a MAJOR fight with mom on the homefront for a good two hours. I couldn't stand it.

Thank God for seeing Maris 4th period and automatically laughing. And seeing Dez after and automatically laughing at that as well. You two are the best haha. We know how to have fun. Sometimes. Haha.

Apocolypse Now is a really trippy/interesting movie. It's so awesome to actually like some of the things they make us watch in class from time to time. The Roberts/Daniels combination is truly classic. And remember kids, don't do drugs, drink milk and/or ginger ale. Daniels rocks my world.

Today was our last tennis match of the regular season, so I guess you'd call it our Senior night. The girls made us signs and got balloons and flowers, it was really nice of them. We totally kicked Stratford High's ass. 7-0. Woot! Which means 8-6 for the team, which means we had the best season since I started with the program. I'm so proud of everybody and all the effort they put forth, I'm just sad it's going to end soon. Wait, nevermind, because we qualified for STATES!!! =)

Just had to be giddy and gay like that. My fault.

I desperately need sleep. Honestly. I really want to skip school and sleep in tomorrow, but I doubt that's going to happen. God dammit. It's like punishment I tells ya. Oh well.

It's been a while since I've done this it seems.

Speaking of which, filled two voids in my life tonight.
#1 I spoke with Dan whom I haven't heard from in what seems like ages and it was refreshing to experience that sharp wit of his. One of the few people in the world that actually make me "LOL".
#2 Spoke with Deena whom I haven't spoken to in seriously forever. We need to catch up some more, she's a good kid. We used to be tighter than like.. uhm.. a lid.. or some shit. But you get me. Just float on kiddo, you know what I mean.

Oh and Mike, good luck on your first exam tomorrow! I know you'll kick its ass ;) and don't forget to quit with the hat for the next two weeks - Nancy's orders, and you know what she says goes haha. I love you babe, can't wait to see you!

That's it! Gayda OUT! (horrible)

Comment on what you think about this:

SOMETIMES I LISTEN
4AM. Bed : yes - Sleep : feasible:/

And there they are - all of them like buzzards on the ceiling mud resting for conversation and planning to scavenge - dancing with feelers. First 2. Then 5. Next 8. Finally - 15 of these legged probers probing about each other on this nicotine ceiling. And I swear they dance like ballerinas. They are just above me - talking to one another through antennae. Like satellites. Satellites and ballerinas. And it has taken humans one long forever to fully manipulate - to use - this satellite technology. These little fucks had it all along. And some of them carry egg-casings that protrude from underneath their abdomens. Some of them are suspending around a crowd of more popular satellites. Some are suspending all alone in the corners of these four walls. While the rest flash each other with gentle molestation. Even the ones in the corner talk, though, they talk to themselves. Every corner has a loner, I think. I hope there's a corner for me.

Wondering what they talk about. Imagine it to be interesting - hush-hush - since they only gather in the dark when they feel no one is mobile. Plus. This IS a ceiling and they must see me eyeing them. Why not the alarm clock or the medicine cabinet? Secluded with other electronic bugs. Why so welcoming - open? Why so much within the range of killers : sprays, motels, swatters, fingers, hands, newspapers, people-life? Spiders deserve to die these days. Die spiders.

They communicate. Style and grace they are. Some jazz singer on the balcony with 6 legs singing a song about harmony - about herpes - about something. Some thing. Yes, they still move with grace. Grace like the naked lady with feelers punching out of her head feeding the best of portraits right into the spines of her students. They must know I am watching. Forcing myself to try and listen to them over the gurgle of my beer throat. Tapping. Probing. Searching. For another brown - another casing - another abdomen - another satellite - another room like mine.

Never get bored wondering what it is they converse. Communication all their own. All their own. Stabbing little radars where ever needed. Make a happy home for now. A happy one, I said. Imagine that.

tap. Tap tap. TapTap. TAP.

Get up. Walk through the semi-dark for my Evan Williams. Freezer. Chilled. Mmm. Then I stub my toe on the back seat of a 1990 Suburban. It is my new couch / got it last week. I forgot about it. The best couch known to nobody but me. And I trip over it.

So - once again I am managing to stay up until early morning while dissecting my liver cell for cell - and then it happens! IHEARTHEM!:

Taking back to my bed I realize that they have opened up to me. These funky transmissions. Raw source that I am now peeling away at. They have seen my willingness to LISTEN - understand creatures of plague and disgust. I also realize this : There are no sentences. No words. No grammar. No punctuation. NO RULES! Nothing more than a signal traveling faster and faster and faster and fuck....BEAUTIFUL FUCKING CREATURES waving frequencies from a feeler with no law of language. Even as a writer I find it very hard to interpret what it is they say onto paper. But I will do my best. Now :

leff ovurs chylld bawks
krums n radiashun q-bickle
peepull def keel toretour
feal thae
goe darc
n kracks
gathur

And then they leave my ceiling and I feel all alone again. I would - normally - enjoy my loneliness, but these are not people. People are bothersome and hard to please - never them.

So - I get up.

I stuff all of my old food - still rotting on the counter - into the fridge. I pick apart crumbs from these rotting morsels and toss them into the microwave. I take all of the poisons I own and toss them into the freezer - to chill for later liver contractions. I cut off the small bulb over the stove and begin to make even more cracks all along the walls. I lie down again - kill that bottle - now warm. And I manage to rest. I sleep good knowing that I may make them smile. Do they smile? It is a crazy food chain.

In the morning I wonder if they knew that I was listening. If they had allowed me to eavesdrop on them, and if they control who or what decyphers these transmissions. Wonder if they were thankful. Wonder if their brains are too small to be thankful - but I doubt that. I wonder if they look at people in a new light - or if we are still considered the most vicious of enemies. And now - at least - I understand something I never have before.

I grab a beer. And then I kill a spider - splatdead.

Soon in sometime,
somewhere, next month, next dream -
next time I hear my spleen talk-tongue yellow,
his still scream-spitting the p(l)ayback boyfriend
answering machine (brunette damn
clean) he was, he was there...

or I'm asleep with a handgun, a cigarette
burning on a single sheet from Rescue Mission,
or an elbow on my insides, aside from you,
aside from the rest,
there just won't be
no time (at all) left to
« rewind «
what I have become. =

Nothing (at all)

No more room for these photocopy bodies to lie
still, to die and to lump themselves (xerox) in piles
around Our backyards to burn. The backs of our minds
are full of them. They are photographs, and then somethey
run in circles. And then somethey, of course, there is us.
and We don't even work right.

Look,

me and the What will leave again,
so tired and tried. We are exposed.
We will try to surface again, so as strangers.
Try to meet other strangers and We will both eat
the worst of dollarmart-gross foods and drink
ourselves drunk on the reddest of cheap wines
until We sleep on headaches for 2 days and forget
what it means to wake up and be proud of being up
and awake in a poor town with a trailer and some
tranquilizers.

Look,

how fast We swallow any and every thing...

We are jittery and walking slag
and wishing that We could run faster
and farther from our drinking hands,

then We will sleep again
and We will move again,
and We will readdress
what it means to try
to run away from Our problems.