jamie

my first flight was straight into a heartbreak.

the boy who doesnt ever flinch has no home.

a steel fist cant hurt a steel heart especially when it has run off with the spoon.

dont speak of the crystal word, baby.

you know, the last boy who did, ended up alone and nearly dead. of course, you’ll never listen… isnt that how we got into this mess in the first place?

how about dealing instead of running.

while i fly all the way home w/a loss of money, time &a molded over heart.

thanks, but i already hated los angeles.

i dont know how i feel about fruit-on-on-the-bottom yogurt. i do, however, know how i feel about fabio’s new reality tv show, mr. romance. its fuckin awesome. its so gay. there’s even gay love. &there’s oiled up, shaven men standing around in their underwear complimenting each others tight abs &chiseled faces. its brilliant.

the decision to do something naughty at work hit when my groin was throbbing w/desire. so, i tried then it was over cuz they played sam hagar on the radio &i lost my bone. which was on The Bone, my favourite butt rock radio station from san francisco. oh, that city w/its threesomes &drunken word purges. oh, this city where id rather sleep then go out. oh, my next city which will probably be a town cuz lets face it, i aint a big city girl. my charm is tired &my heart is heavy &my feet cant carry it all. at all. 

also, you’ve got another thing comin’

weekend plans exploded into nothing. the barbeque was lost in between the rain clouds &playing house. (&i understand the need under the circumstances.) but there was a trip to the suburbs. an excitingly lowkey night in a fancy house w/turkey mole enchiladas from the deep freezer. while the tv entertained us w/an old pro gone wonderfully metrosexual. oh, uncle jesse.

sunday, no olympia. 3strikes yr out. a hint for maybe next weekend but im done w/fake broadcasts. we’ll see. we’ll just see. 

i did spend my sunday w/andrew, TiVo &lots of pot. mr. romance? ellen? the inferno? extreme home makeover? a bad movie w/fran drescher? yes, times five. it was actually like any sunday should be + fried chicken &pizza. dude.

walking out of the office to the next building i noticed how extremely vocal the animals were being, i think i could even hear the ants stomping… perhaps they were singing a song of sympathy for the stacks of work i had on a friday morning or maybe they were plotting a fantastic inter-species circus for later this evening. anyway, it just reminded me that i never finished that book i started months ago. somewhere in a box the two-dimensional little Chema bird lies flat between piles of construction paper &zines, gasping for a breath of fresh air.

&i owe it to her.

beware.

my cynicism can be cryptic and uncontrolled.