Break it Up. Break it Down.

Alright. Alrighty, then. A mere thirty minutes ago, I was posting some blatherings and then said, "Hey, them's crappy blatherings," and low and behold, they were gone. The work of the Lord or some strange subconscious slight of hand? The world may never know, but nevertheless, we are here, are we not? The thing is, I was falling asleep like crazy when I was writing, so there's no way it was good reading unless there was an overabundance of subliminal slips in there, but who needs those here when you have all the conscious ones straight up? I have been loving this site (source of this pic). I'm not into the bible or anything, but what's not to like about this? Maybe it makes the bible more palatable. I guess that could be bad.

I could post about politics, but I er Mimi did that earlier over at The Fluffington Post.

Well, I still don't really have much here, now do I? I saw this one funny thing posted by someone I know over at Facebook. Seriously, that's funny stuff.

Not sure if it's crickets, tiny violins, or maybe tiny crickets playing tiny violins, but I decided not to share the fact that I am looking for a place to stay each Friday because history proves that's a night Mr. Bee and I should not be in the same house. Last night I slept in my car. Oh sure, I got a full 8 hours parked in a lot back behind where I work, but I was pretty scrunched, but in the end, it worked out quite well that I had woken and not been able to sleep for thirty minutes in which time I changed into my work clothes and slept the remainder of the night with the driver's seat leaned back. It just so happened that I messed up the AM/PM think on my phone's alarm, but I awoke at 6 on the dot (when I'm supposed to be at work), but just put my seat upright and drove one minute away. My window barely de-fogged by the time I got there. Oh sure, I had crazy bedhead since my hair was damp when I left the house, but I was a mere 3 minutes late, which, to my co-workers, made me seem on time.

Oh, the excitement. It's just that it rained and rained the past twenty four hours, so camping didn't work out. Boo hoo. I swear on this here lego that either I will be attracted to the most stable thing ever, or I will come to not expect the rut and will be prepared for adventures. I look forward to not pursuing my new situation as much as allowing it to reveal itself. I feel all kinds of crazy creative. I'm gonna paint, and write, and fuck, and kiss girls, and I'm already kinda getting in shape for such adventures that are, no doubt, going to require a whole new androgynous wardrobe from the thrift store. Don't ask me what any of that means. I don't know, but these are some of the things I will do with all the time I'm not complaining (though, oh, you know, I will complain about being alone) and bickering with my dear Mr. Bee. I just hope he doesn't act like a crazy stalker which I only fear if the drinking gets worse.

But, me. I'm blameless. Not. Oh man, I still managed to turn this around into complaining about my marriage. Did I tell you I'm going to Florida for Thanksgiving, the Palm Beach area where my mom moved this last year. I hope bikini season has passed, but that I might see dykes in waders. Is it dykes in waders time?

I won't mention that I like a bit femmier ladies than that, as I like my men, pretty, beards on either are ok. Actually, I expect to get some studying down, and hope to pick up a tiny recorder before I leave Austin, so I can record some of my uncle's stories. He's had stage 4 cancer the past two years and you know what everyone is saying about this Thanksgiving, right? Of course, my 92 year-old step great-grandfather is hosting a Thanksgiving dinner in Arkansas, but my mom bought me the plane ticket, so....

What else, what else? Oh, some poem, I'm sure. That's the formula. It's either that, a video, pithy never to be manifested blog post titles, or a simple wearing out of all that is good until I feel satisfied we did it in every position. There is also that one Modest Mouse album, which is the best break up album ever! You can check it out. Spitting Venom and Little Hotel. That's what I'm talking about. They almost make breaking up sexy. Here's a tale of break up I enjoyed today.

Ok, this one is from a different album (with a title I love, Good News for People who Love Bad News), and I've even had it on here before, but so what? Just sit back and take it. You can feel my breath down there. It's gettin' hot and heavy.

Float On


Missed the Boat


Do we even have time for a poem after all that?

Perk up, jerkboy;
Suck it up good.
Never did I want you
Feeling put upon.

Perk up, perky tits;
There's hope for you, yet.
If he doesn't want you,
I still do.

I can't see that you're liars,
Beautiful, soft, big ol' liars
Tempting me to lie
In a deep, deep slumber.

Awaken me with your insistence
When we fall in the icy water.
Your buoyancy will be apparent, then.
Only then.