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08/01 Direct Link
9:03. Three lonesome stars up. The park lights either lit them up or concealed the clusters. Maker's Mark and rocks in my cup. A curved canopy cupping acoustics. Me and everyone else in the presence of petite Fiona. The Apple that fell far from the tree, crashed and erupted from red torn skin. Out burst a sea of tears, a storm of talent. And there we were, watching her whole life crouched down to the floor, hanging on to the microphone, effortlessly channeling everything that made her scream. Poor little me and my putrid misery. I know nothing of it.
08/02 Direct Link
9:03. Three lonesome stars up. The park lights either lit them up or concealed the clusters. Maker's Mark and rocks in my cup. A curved canopy cupping acoustics. Me and everyone else in the presence of petite Fiona. The Apple that fell far from the tree, crashed and erupted from red torn skin. Out burst a sea of tears, a storm of talent. And there we were, watching her whole life crouched down to the floor, hanging on to the microphone, effortlessly channeling everything that made her scream. Poor little me and my putrid misery. I know nothing of it.
08/03 Direct Link
The hypnic jerk of the passenger boy shook me out of trance. He was still there and three drowsy heads in the back bobbing in sync with the sway of the highway. For a moment, all I cared about was the quiet roar of tires on asphalt and midnight touching road. Few forces of nature can lull me into a pleasant escape. Night is the falling sensation that makes the sweetness between sleep and wakefulness. But my focus lay ahead, right side, and behind. Their bronzed little cheeks and chlorine drowned ears were my dream. One I'll write to keep.
08/04 Direct Link
Carolina blues is the state I'm in.

I'm molding the memories like its winding roads before I hit flatland. The flora, brighter by my nearing departure. Fauna, fearless of human residence to the last bullet of honor. The roads, unfolded only as far as eyesight allows. The blues dark as bruises, light as coast waves. It's settlement, humbly surrounded by water, mostly land. It's pride, universally educated freaks and geeks, belly painted fanatics. The air, pure save the pollen, some ragweed. It's wind, permissively vulnerable to four winds of change.

I leave blue skies and move to sunshine and gulf.
08/05 Direct Link
Who stocks Styrofoam cups with lids for to-go coffee in their house? Who names their kids Meadow, Shiloh, and Sunshine? They do. Why, in a structure based family, does Sunshine fall apart? The polar connection of our worlds is a two year product of wariness, peering at each other's intentions from afar, feeling out for purity. I thought she was just as perfect as the golf community they live in. Turns out we've always fit to interlock, but we had to shatter individually to snap into place. Now that we're broken, she has brought warmth in our time of winter.
08/06 Direct Link
My first experience of penetration and it must be a woman with a swab. Not quite what I had in mind. Never did it cross my mind I would dress up my nether land to be prodded by a female. The sister wants to accompany me in a time of utter discomfort. Not to watch, but to morally support from the lobby. She'll hold the dignity I'll be stripped of once my name is called, my blood pressure logged, and my weight revealed. She'll hand it back when I walk out, feeling affected by the sensation still rubbing inside me. Ew.
08/07 Direct Link
Bi:Two
Polar: Opposite ends

The language of Latin: Bi and Polaris.

A romantic consummation to the marriage of a prefix and a word turned suffix.
(Look there: another polar example.)

What a rocky relationship that just won't separate. Back and forth, battling to gain domination.

Tell me, what is a word for a spirit that steps outside of its body and watches itself self-destruct?

Where in the dictionary does it define a masochist, stripped of empowerment when the pain is no longer delight?

What word can describe my battered soul when I return to character from which I was escaped?
08/08 Direct Link
Reality is what kills the thrill. Statistically, a microscopic percentage of people die or suffer significant damages from amusement rides. The ones that do are incredulously stupid. Eight years old, moving up tiny centimeters on those ever long lines is worth knowing you cheated death. Middle aged, you're back aches and you're stuck in front of punks making out loudly. You're not gonna die, you're just waiting for it to be over with. So on the DemonDrop, when the 70 foot water slide folded my spine 80 degrees down, I pretended the weightless fall is what death might feel like.
08/09 Direct Link
Some people think there's no such thing as a chemical imbalance. Some people think, like Tibetan monks, the mind can be controlled against all fallacy. They tell this to the weaker. The strong would agree and the dispute would therefore be obsolete. Of course, the weaker, too limp in his or her bones, would fold at their argumentative mercy. Strength as always, walks away erect. Weak is kicked when it's down. In a brief glimmer of hope, the kind that comes and goes like lighting, weakness realizes that strength has never gone a whole week without the will to shower.
08/10 Direct Link
The grownups dissected the book weekly. I could barely wipe my ass. I passed time leafing through the most colorful pictures, inventing stories for them. But I kept coming back to a black and white that could twist any child's brain. A blindfolded man lined up ten numbered blocks out of a box. Chronologically. He laid them in perfect order. I loved to believe it was a game. I knew nothing of nothing, especially probability. The real answer is total chaos. A higher power cannot play lottery and randomly result in the creation of a universe of such complex science.
08/11 Direct Link
Repressed Stress. Stress Repress.

Yard Sale. Sale Yard. Moving Sale. Sale Moving. Sarding Yale. Moving Yard Sale. Move the Yard Sale. Sale the move yard. Yard the move sale. Junk Sale. Sell Junk. Jell Sunk. Junk Trunk. Junk in trunk. Truck in Junk. Moving Junk in Truck on Yard. Moving Truck. Trucking Move. Yarding Truck. Junk Yard. Juck Trunk.

Pack Rat. Rat Pack. Rack Pat. Move the Rat Pack. Pack the Truck Junk. Pack the rat in junk truck. Sale Rack. Rack Sale. Pack yard. Sale Pack. Track Jack. Jack Rat. Yard rat. Sale Yard. Yard Sale.

BoBana.

Yard Sale.
08/12 Direct Link
dressed by dawn and out the door
no light
she memorized the floor
so she could leave without being detected
she works till three
it's uniform
she dreams that he'll come by the store
she prays for days
when boys mean she's protected
and she wants someone to see her
she needs to hear she's beautiful
she's beautiful

i want to save you
i want to save you
i need you
save me too

i want to save you

and she won't sleep
she won't sleep
she won't sleep
at all

i want to save you
(let me save you)
08/13 Direct Link
So I'm a little bit sad a lot of the time. So on good days I like to listen to misery. They talk, I relate, but I'd rather share a beer with a stranger. Those boasters who swell from the tongue fills a smidgen of void. The cynical side. The other side is a rain storm. Soggy men crouching under bridges. We play who's life sucks the most. They always win, I loose sorely. I drip home, crawl into a blanket, and think up a way to be the winner. And a sad song playing makes me cry sweet satisfaction.
08/14 Direct Link
4 years of writing.

Sick to the last cell knowing I wrote and saved a disease that has no cure. All the insects that nicked at my health, the virus that ate me alive.

Select. At the bottom. The very last attack on sanity.

Highlight. Scrolling and scrolling. Up, up. 111 pages. 14 seconds, catching words I mentioned.

Poison.
Vocabulary.
Him.
Floor.
Sun.
Crash.
The.

What possessed me to save this?
To leave behind?

Were I to die tomorrow, someone could know how they killed me. They're not examine my head. The hurt is mine to keep. 14 seconds. Delete.
08/15 Direct Link
All I remember is driving down their streets, with their dingy shopping malls and hanging traffic lights, all the while thinking& something is wrong with the lighting here. The man made lakes didn't sparkle quite right. The sun didn't hit the green all the way. The citizens carrying their individual lives about seemed to be in unity, controlled by a computer program. Or maybe they were aliens placed by the government for census purposes, and now they plan an invasion in rebellion. This suspicious city is to be home, but I know I don't belong. Their eyes told me so.
08/16 Direct Link
The following disturbs me deeply. I have found myself avoiding phone calls. They're difficult. It's a form of commitment. I feel compelled to make promises before hanging up. I find I talk less. If I speak, I practice it in my head repeatedly before entrusting my tongue. I find I skip the gym, run out of food, shop odd hours, because I don't want to be seen. I find myself postponing sleep, inventing pretexts to avoid reality. I find my skin is abnormally sensitive to touch, so much, air disgusts me, and I hear sounds as if they were feelings.
08/17 Direct Link
He won't share my diagnosis. He won't even tell me if he has one. But he knows I know, because he doesn't underestimate me. I pretend I don't know he knows and he pretends he doesn't know I know. They're taught a label could compromise any progress. He also knows I want the label. It's such a pretty word. It sounds good when you mouth it out loud. Borderline. We both know I will lose the label soon anyway because I don't beat myself anymore when I don't make a point of asking how he is coping this fine day.
08/18 Direct Link
Almost there. She's almost back.Then I have to get back to training her. No more slacking. No more typing. No more surfing. I can already hear her balloon shape bouncing into my cubicle. First she'll be panting from the walk to the office and rave about how she let the dogs out during her lunch hour. Then I have to watch her for 4 more hours while she clicks and copies and pastes and drags and highlights. I Madam Teacher will dictate, No. You copy and paste, don't cut. Try it again. So, do I left click once or twice?
08/19 Direct Link
Someone drags furniture upstairs, making a horrible moan that I swear is an old muffled cry for help. It could also be a chainsaw, but it lacks that deadly ring. Here, I wonder if I'm the only one who hears it. Maybe it's just me. No, but that would be silly. Logic says they hear it too. But why don't they acknowledge the painstaking noise. Endless yet dooming. Does it not haunt them either? They're probably thinking the same. Why doesn't she bring up the screeching howls emanating from above? Their peace goes unbothered. Should I keep this to myself?
08/20 Direct Link
Things worth mentioning before surrendering to cop out the month:

I really need to pee. I can't think when I need to pee. When I can't think I can't talk. I slip up, trip up my tongue. I start tripping and slipping when I can't get to a bathroom.

I am currently without microwave or can opener. I make sandwiches, eat cheese and crackers, and built castles with canned pineapple. So I rented a television. For 3 weeks. So I could sit on the floor and watch regular broadcast shows.

And&
last, not at all least. My cuticles are dry.
08/21 Direct Link
They're all saying it'll be impossible to replace me. I welcome the praise bashfully, feeling awkward, but secretly swelling up. This kind of attention verges on dangerous. Apparently, I'm better than I care to admit. I just may start believing I underestimated myself and have the world in bloom to offer. Maybe I'm better than everyone else. Maybe I need to withhold my glory and yield mercy to only those I find exquisite in excellence. I think I'll stay indoors in my corner, as I do not want my exuding glow to illuminate upon the scum dragging by their asses.
08/22 Direct Link
There it was. Humming. Purring. Windshield wipers doing their dance. Waiting for someone to get in and drive off. I returned to the lost and found department of the store to find the keys I lost earlier that morning. Two tiny keys on a tiny thin key ring. The 'original' cash box keys, no duplicates available. They had found them, so I wandered the store in relief. Lazily. Warily. From the mental exhaustion. I set the automatic doors haywire where I stood to think, while the rain fell. I knew it. I knew it. I left them in the ignition.
08/23 Direct Link
She tells me things when it's impossible to reply.

Right before a prayer. Before she closes a door. After goodbyes. When my mouth is full. As the enemy approaches.

Never at an opportune moment.
Not that opportune moments happen. They can only be created, only to be pushed away by person, place or thing.

Anyway, she does it for the same reason I shock people with horrifying news in a cool tone, as if unaffected and light as can be.

For intensity.
For a reaction.

To see them beg for the details and watch them swallow what they can't ask.
08/24 Direct Link
The notes, printed in my head.
The technique in the fingers.
The control in the hands.
The rhythm in flow.
Everything is ready. Set.

All there is left to do is wait for the click.

Keep shifting on the bench.
Keep resorting to the music sheet.
Keep cracking the knuckles.

I understand how it comes together. But you can't hurry this. I can't learn it any better.

Then one fine day I'll sit down like I've sat 1000 times,
attempt like I've always attempted...
and it'll happen.

You wouldn't believe I was born without the ability to make such music.
08/25 Direct Link
To save my life, I couldn't think of a single reason why I needed to buy something. Not an aisle went without scrutiny. Not a product left unconsidered.

I have everything I need, therefore the grounds to be happy with what I have, and not coveting of the things I want.

Post-its.
You could never have enough post-its. Only you could.


Ooh. A planner.
I need another one, especially the one that looks like a stylish briefcase.
I can pile it with the other planners I needed.

Not one piece of merchandise to justify the sweetness of swiping a card.
08/26 Direct Link
All these shows about crime and investigation. It helps us get comfortable with the death rate.
The others that die. The others that find a corpse decaying in pubic parks.

I won't be caught off guard. I will not scream, throw-up, or suffer post traumatic stress when a mutilated, innocent face floats up in a pool. No. I've practiced my reaction and my collected response. I'll call 911. Then calm the shrieking witnesses. Death will be as palpable as can be. I'll be damned if it makes me flinch a hair.

Now, if I come across a retarded child's demise&
08/27 Direct Link
Look ma!
No hands!

I wash the blood of my own scrapes. Without a hint of a whimper, I cover wounds with bandages. Just like you showed me. The scar tissue reminds me when you said its okay to cry. But I dry myself right up. With tissues even, not my dirty hands.

Ma, I can pick myself up. So let me go. Really. Just watch me do it. Trust me. Like I trusted you. You know I can make you proud.

But now that I'm ready to let go,

I don't think I want to miss those arms again.
08/28 Direct Link
As long as I live in this city, the circular hotel will rise from Downtown. It will never fail to send me into that dark place on that dark night where it all ended and began again. Well no. Let me not let that landmark be definitive. It's simply the only one I directly connect to a symbol seen by beltline commuters. And practically everyone I know has circulated the city and wondered what kind of people spend the night there. My countdown continues. Soon I'll be able to forget its one-way streets or that I ever got hopelessly lost there.
08/29 Direct Link
To Jodi:

Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.
Life gets in the way.

Do yo thang!
08/30 Direct Link
Fuck it! It's just a stupid website. It doesn't define me. It says nothing about my personality. Internet isn't my only connection to humanity. And my time is too on a budget. I can pick it back up when I'm ready.

But then there would be a void for a whole month...

So I sat my ass down at a public library, tapped the keys loudly without pressing, and stared at the screen. When I had something to write about nothing, the book borrowing low class were laughing at the nonsense adding up to one hundred. Or so it felt.
08/31 Direct Link
COP OUT. COP OUT.COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT. COP OUT.

I never thought I was the type.
You learn something new every day.