Ah! There you are.

There you are, my friend.

You dull thud in the pit of my guts. I thought I felt you stir up a breeze a couple of days ago when you snuck through the tiny, sliver crack in My Wall; I'd just began to let go the tuck-pointing after, Oh, so many years of deliberate maintenance.

Walls, Moats, Tactical Evasive Maneuvers, Self-exiling, Witty Missiles of Defense, Ramped up Liquid Medical Skills, Radar Super-Honed, Creeping in Surreal North Viet Cong-like Tunnels (a Rat among Rats, spitting bile and contempt), seeking Ghost Allies, mapping out Escapes and Fakes, setting up Emotional Claymores and Bouncing Betties, accepting/rationalizing a Honorable Admiral Goes Down Alone With The Ship ending, and planning the Solitary Tombstone Cube with my Ancestors. Always fighting under a Black New Moon.

But then, the Vaguest Whisper of a Waning Crescent appeared. Barely visible, I thought it a Mirage, some Residue of Past Hope left unscrubbed from the bottom of my Bruised Heart. A bit of dust forgotten under the loveseat.

I peered again, analyzed it from all the limited angles I know, checked the history books, roused my Internal Angel from His slumber, tickled my Muse-in-a-Coma, and grabbed the rusty telescope from it's tattered case.

I think a bit of silver winked back, and I thought "maybe?"

But now You hang on my Heart. I can feel your bulky black familiar gravity pulling me down from the inside, bumping the insides of my Lung Cage if I move to suddenly. Fear lumps in my throat again, clumps of You I try to expel to no avail. I try to Drown you, but You're parasitical in nature, eating all of Me from the inside out.

And here I go, getting all Melodramatic about something that didn't happen. I always get nostalgic for things that never happened. I love wallowing in the Safety of Sadness. With You, I know where I stand: alone.

And it's easier to fight yourself because either way, you win.

And my words kill me.
And my words probably killed The Moon.
And I voice my own Self-fulfilling Prophecy.

When the Moon is full, it is full because the Sun Shines on it.
I only observe the phenomenon.
I don't recall how to be the Sun.

Until I go back to the earth, We shall crawl arm in arm, my heavy shadow friend.

Banging, Med-ing, Booking, and Rawking

Super Gigante Saturday!

Woke up alone today and immediately cranked up some violent sex (through my speakers). Then realized I only have one day's hit of Pexeva...Panic!...but found out Lawrence House is open today...shhhwwwooo.

Plan of the day (after I finish this tasty cup o' Joe with yummy French Vanilla creaminit).

• Get drugs from Lawrence "The Hook-me-up" House.
• Zip out to Old Orchard to spend gobs of money at the Brandies Used Book Fair. I still have unread books from the past two years I've gone. Black bags of books...yay!
• Then, later, drinky-poos and get my socks rocked off by the Z-boys at Schubas (10:00 p.m. show up early to buy their stuff!)
• Sleep Deep Sleep till the dawn pokes me for Work Shallow Work.

"...You always have to think about kissing"

Have any Truer words ever been strung together?

Of course, this statement focused on one Jeff Tweedy's shaved face, but I still think they ring True.

Final quote of the evening from Conversations at the Bar.

"Whiskey is such a man's drink, a man's man's drink."

That's "a Manly-man's drink," R.

Random quote from Conversations at the Bar.

Conversations at the Bar

Last night at work, L.S. suggested a select few of us traipse down to Chumps after closing for a drink (or two). She wanted to go to Chumps so she could watch the Cubs game (I think they ended up getting spanked).

In attendance: L.S., Amazing G., K.O., Miss Arsh and her friend R., and myself. White wine, jumbo margaritas, iced tea, Blue Moons, and Guinness were poured to our table and met with happy giggly grins. I'd never hung out much with L.S., she went on to crack me up with her stories and opinions--one of those tuff Chi-caw-go "Old Broads" (a reference to one of her stories, I'd never!).

Some highlights (that I recall, feel free to add others in the comments):

• Stem cell research we all seemed to deem okay. Continue this a wipe out Diabetes first! Ironic that Bush doesn't want to help the living here now, but thinks it's okay to kill thousands in Iraq.
• President Bush: we all agreed is a "jackass."
• "The Blondie Twins" do not carry their weight at work, are irritating, and one of them is probably going to get fired soon. Also, them discussing their wedding plans= lame, boring, and annoying; whereas, when L.S. (in a rare moment) discusses her plans it is fine because she's funny, interesting, and we like her.
• Some Muslims are all judgmental to each other in "The Community" while others are cool to each other.
• L.S. gets a potty mouth when she drinks. Miss A. never "curses," (except for a "Shit" now and again she quietly pointed out) and R. will on occasion let a naughty word slip, at which point Miss A. will physically flinch and cringe. Cursing doesn't fucking bother me (for the most part).
• Apparently, a Girl's Night Out at Rivinia is in the making among them; so, lock up your sons and husbands after the wine flows people.
• Boss Frantic is in middle of divorce and living with sister, but not transferring to the Milwaukee (*Curses*).
• On Engagement Rings: R., more the Romantic, thinks The Dude should pick the out ring on sly. On the other hand, Miss A. and L.S. wants/ed to be involved in the Ring Choosing to make sure it's the one they wants/ed.

And then home.

At The Bar Of The Dead

At the Bar

of the Dead

in the Middle of SoHo

Seeking Angels

---

Nothing ever held like

Poetic Images

The Six Degrees of a Loser of separation

---

Dining in

Facing Inner Magic

Has a Raunchy

Murderous Air at Times