This is it. I got to #100. That’s something.
Okay, not so much, given I ramble under the slightest of confidence.
And two (three?) reblogs.
But I do have less a tenuous grasp on the English language.
That’s an accomplishment, yes?
A slightest of confidence, a libido confidence: idiot-first, hypersexual.
But extremely, extremely subdued. “Neuter or spay?”
And subducted desperate; i.e., “Thursday: Another Day.”
I mean, who writes that shit?
Me. I wrote that shit.
And I must bury it.
I mean, there is truth in it, as
there is truth in everything.
There has to be, for whatever to exist.
But to exist… like the Higgs-boson,
like girls chasing after Justin Bieber
—the actual scientists’ analogy.
But sometimes we only accept the love we think we deserve.
I got that before I even heard of
The Perks of Being a Wallflower, book or movie.
I’m like Phillip (François Clouzet) in The Intouchables.
Not quadriplegic, but socially paralyzed.
No standing behind a register, so no money for college.
One so alone, so long
would seek love,
if not just “epistolary.”
So everything’s changed.
Okay, still broke though.
Inject passion, …but it has to be right.
Like oil and water,
desperation and love
But the f__king insects are back, that’s true.
Tis Spring, after all.
Ants now, but spiders… always.
Spiders and ants,
panic and rants,
All those featured in this house of tomorrow.
Yeah, recession, depression tomorrow.
Summer of Recovery, my ass.
But back to that confidence,
…or just daydreaming, really.
Like, as with, that, before… under [insert preposition]
MTV show, Ladies Man: a Made Movie,
looks a little like
what could’ve been
had I went to college, sans Mr. Olympus.
Also, if not stuck in Maine.
And not a social freak.
And everything else.
So I only have the big hair.
A geek, “in the know,” to have heard about
Human Papiloma Virus, already
seen Vagina Monologues on HBO.
And everything else
on that channel. 😉
Shit. I said that.
What I say when I remember
my stupid comments.
And even though
MTV has partly turned
into the “awkward.” channel,
yeah, I’ve watched that show too.
Older women of writers
with their own “could have been” pasts.
Yeah, I know. I’m a dick. But tell me
that older women
don’t write for that show.
Yeah, I thought so.
…I think a lot of things.
…I think too much.
You are out of my league.
… But you are only just a dream.
Oo-ooh; ooh- ooh- oo-Oooh.