It’s gr and attitude but it makes so much space for others.
First surgery, then friend stuff, now the insane holiday hours. It’s effing nonstop. NON. STOP. my gahd.
I’m too tired to think, let alone type. But I’m forcing myself to do it without actually having a goal or thesis or even a story. Basically this is really gonna suck for whomever is reading this.
I could mention that there is a tv show called SUPER STORE which is clearly about Walmart, but I feel it really, really fails to deliver the tragic reality of such a job/workplace. I mean, this is a store that has a website dedicated to harassing the poorly dressed customers that frequent the place (another reason why I stopped wearing pajamas to the grocery store.. mufukin everybody a gotcha journalist these days~~) I have been thinking about creating such a tv show for a year now about the happenings in my place of work, which shall not be named, and the personal stories of the customers and workers. I would want it to be funny, but also very real. Clerks would be closer to what I’m looking for except that its just those idiots talking rather than actual stories highlighting the insanity of the retail experience.
And now I’m too tired to write more.
sleep oertakes me. my mind has been going in a million different directions since I was silent on this blog thing. I constantely think of things I wanna say but im so afraid of not saying it right. Sometimes I think my life is a movie. People I meet have excellent dialogue. Other times I feel as if its a poorly written novel and wondering when (if at all) the plot will thicken. Perhaps I should add some flour. That said, I can’t add flour to everything. I suppose I just need to meet some more interesting people or hook up with someone. Safely, of course. On second thought I think I’m just gonna watch the latest episode of Agents of Shield that I missed while I was hunting for crafting supplies yesterday. Yes, hunting. I found a stockpile. One step closer to having stuff that resembles birthday and/or christmas presents. Happy Holidays. >.<
Dear Self of Today,
Just because you are “young” and “feelin kinda good” doesn’t mean you can bust off the change of your doctor ordered light duty. Sure, you miss the feel of the wind on your face, getting to work quickly, and feeling like a badass for getting exercise in the most convenient way possible. Furthermore, just because you had a bad day, are sore, and feel like you hae worked hard enough to earn a treat doesn’t mean you should buy, and eat and entire bag of doritos. Sure, it was cheaper to get the big bag. Well, it would have been if you had spread it out. I love you, but, get it together!!
Also Self of Today
I’m doing a FUNdraiser for a couple months in pursuit of following a whim. I want more people to think of “homelessness” as a level/variation. Staying in a shelter is not the beginning and its NOT the END. We can do some things to help people on their journey. Bring the joy of denial through pampering.
^^ this is just money but that helps too.
COming soon are details on a luxury toiletries drive: lotions, perfume, makeup… etc.
The universe is tellin me that I’m swellin in with gifts– Even though your thoughts are swift– I rock the past participle presence in the chex mix– master the bastard but it doesn’t make sense. It may appear strange or incorrect but I feel like you love me and I love you. Whats love got to do? Love doesn’t pay these bills or put clothes on the babies backs. Love creates heart attacks– love is cholestoral fat butterball baby love melts the candle wax while tryna burn the midnight oil. Love is silly shit. Thats not life. Silly shit doesn’t equal respect. The golden beast of life is our big britches beggin for love from empty places where souls get sick.
Souls sicked on_ I build the bricks on, whatever sticks on, chewing gum and duct tape_Abruptly disgust wakes the part of my heart that hates_ I’m sick, I need a fix of oxygen to understand my thoughts again_ I woke up screaming with holes in my body_ We both, sucked up into lust, bobbing_silly, bougie, bouncing boobies dance in dilapidated apartment on the floor but nothing mattered when you looked into my eyes. I’m sick. I need to get well.
And thus I find myself in a “state” of Virginia_Prostituting myself for scraps of joy__I’ve got a bridge in Arizona, I can sell water toys__Thus to slaughter and annoy__the branded prep school golden boy__he wants to get wild with me__Thus always using stylists, drawing circles on my software_Its time to get SIC, to attack, my love is to big to fail_Thus my faerie minions do my bidding__Thus this is the beginning_ Thus “we” (sic) pissing poetry, bleeding prose, and crusting over my shit which yes, smells like roses. Don’t forget.
Thus always to tyrants. I fell for you once. Here I am again.
Now you move on and on, sadly (sic).
Here I am. Did you miss me? The three people that read this blog probably forgot I exist but like Em says, “it feels so EM-pty without me”
I have some new motivation. I got my name in another spot on the internets http://www.classism.org/10-times-classism-hurt-jesus/
yea, these cats actually let me write a blog post on their legit website!!
I’m feeling highly motivated at the moment and it was in a timely manner. I’ve got a lot of ideas ready to burst out my brainium. Hopefully those of you reading are ready to start spreading the good word about the honorable work of the dishonorable priestess of prose, Lisa Marie.
Next up– pissing poetry.
If you haven’t yet, don’t forget to check out this great work of art: