Saturday 7 March 2009

Don't rush this, baby.

She said
I don't know why you ever would lie to me
Like I'm a little untrusting
When I think that the truth is gonna hurt you
And I don't why you couldn't just stay with me
You couldn't stand to be near me
When my face don't seem to want to shine
Cause its a little bit dirty well
Don't just stand there
Say nice things to me
Hmm, it's Saturday, it's still dark out and I still feel like someone ran over me with a tractor. There is a dirty guitar sound layered from the speakers that makes me check my phone every fifteen seconds because I think I hear it ringing but it's not. This is why most of the boys use conventional rings for their phones, since my penchant for using the bridges of my favorite heavy alternative songs (not the one quoted above, for it's pop) end up blended into the mix, getting lost.

It's okay, what I miss I will catch with the blinky light that tells me I missed it. My phone is just like a butler, only it doesn't bring me orange juice after sex. Which means Ben is my butler. Sorry, mom.

I'm in skinny jeans and a big black hoodie today with my fortune cookie long sleeved T underneath. Saturday socks. No, really, they say Saturday on the soles. I have my corporate sellout cup from Starbucks pushed in front of my nose and my coffee is almost gone and why I'm posting before anything has happened instead of after things happen so I would actually have something to write about is anyone's guess.

I have stopped wearing earrings. Every five years or so my body rebels and I wind up pulling out all the steel and going bare. Then I poke a whole new round of fresh holes and begin again. Right now the only thing left is the barbell in my tongue. Maybe I should just stick with the tattoos and be done with it. They don't get red or migrate or drive me nuts. They just are. A living canvas. I didn't even tell you about the latest one. Choose your words, choose them wise. Tiny but profound, it makes me happy. The grammar sucks but the sentiment blows my mind.

As it should.

Words are what it's all about, and I have so many. Take a large pin and stick it in my head and I will burst into a silent explosion, letters raining down in a ten-mile radius of devastation, covering everything.

You'll be able to read it perfectly.