April

30

days

What are you waiting for

Here I lay, wasting on the final day of the month, a month that is supposed to be celebratory in nature. A month that opens with tricks and lies in the name of a gowk; then ends in an opposing fashion, as if by chance some form of Gregorian redemption. Truth is I found a month to beat any reigning champion Mr. November.

In a month that carried over a certain inamorata ambiguity, turned a snow white ball of zeal and tossed it from Mt Olympus. Never before have I endured such a twisting, spinning sensation.

Even before my arrival day I was given the role as the spouse Joseph. This immaculate news was bugging to the conscious as for the next five days I'd spend pouring my heart out to anyone on tap; all the while trying to reconnect to an intercepted call to Katz.

Though after those five excruciating days, any whispers of Jack and the Beanstalk were graciously sanctified, but only at the juvenile disclosure of felonious finger pointing.

To go into great depths in the matter at hand is far too premature, despite my truthful salaciousness.

The next crippling blow would fall just a fortnight later. A maple floor with two bruisers would throw a wrench on my fast break to the ending of the game.

Leading to my chanty febrility condition, and in attempt to prevent a decubitus ulcer I rode a Pony til the fervor reached her too, as an unbeknownst bleeding dried her up - and the hot water I found myself in resonated all too at home.

The conclusion of a cursed month does not come with any cerebral celebration, nay, as the exodus moves right into the remembrance of my dearly departed; The Jangus' best friend.

Not certain how much more I can Put-on, as I am running low on these Caps.

"pains"

Sundays

Reiny Daze

bring hopeless haze

Come in with the Rain

Oft I'm asked what is it I do with my time off, my down time, when I'm not..doing whatever it is I do - those moments I'm not loving, I'm not fighting, I'm barely breathing. Though I don't have a clear answer, I can somewhat provide an umbrella on this cumulous question.

It doesn't rain much here in California, but Lord it pours back home; and in an effort to bring a little bit of happiness in my world here I lit upon a nifty website that allows me to do just that. I load this site up, lower my volume down (to three or five), and I'm left to enjoy my night right.

And on those occasions I want to curl up with a Good Book I like the addition of some gentle music in the background - I found light Jazz works the best - especially if you have some classic novel in the Palms of you Hands. Just put that on repeat, or have Pandora work the magic for you (though I'm not a fan of the advertisements for times and adventures I no longer wish to partake in).

And sometimes I write (sometimes).

"..Once In A While"

Stop the Presses

actually no,

let them roll

because, ah crap

I know I was told I shouldn't blog, I know I told everyone I stopped for a minute, but you know what...I just stopped caring. So this post isn't about me or you or whomever...nobody can come back and twist my words around in some playful way to support their own agenda..I've got a lot on my mind and I'll be damned if I'm gonna continue to be a prisoner behind these walls much longer.

I sit here in pain and I so much want to complain. The vicodin should be starting to kick in and hopefully shortly i'll be passing out. I want to tell you all about the stories in my life right now, but probably don't because I'm tired of living them everyday.

I've become exhausted with everything running through my mind constantly, and with my most recent injury it makes it all that much harder to keep up.

I'm leaving something out...but it's ok, it's better this way they said. My trash is full yet I can't take it out.

I'm missing something...i'll just let time sort it all out, because even when a clock gets hungry it goes back four seconds..

I'm losing but definitely not forgotten something something

maybe the mayans were right, maybe the world will end this year...they just never said for whom

"[I am]Foolish maybe...I want answers, "crazy" is not an answer.."

Continued

every day..

just more days...

It's week two of the allegations against me. Everyday is another day. Another day of torture that is. It starts with waking up. An alarm goes off shortly after I finally do pass out; all night long I lay in bed and wonder why, why is this happening. I try to think of other things, but it's consumed me, whether I want it to or not. Too tired to get out of the bed the second alarm I set goes off some ten minutes later; I still refuse to rise and face the day. Eventually I pull myself together, struggling to get out of bed. In the bathroom I wash the tried from my eyes, the blur allows me to not see myself. I put my hair back down, get dressed and head to work. And from there it just continues, like the day.

As I sit at my desk I feel the weight of the conspiracies piling up. As I walk to get water from the cooler I can sense the eyes of discomfort on me. Though everyone says they are on my side and supportive, the fact remains I've been accused of a horrible crime, and it doesn't take an ivory hunter to find me.

All day long, somebody new, same questions.

Not Allowed

not supposed to

urged not to..

but what do i know anyway

I've come to realize it doesn't really matter what I do; good, bad, nothing...something horrible is bound to come from it. This is just an update...just to update...to prove that I don't just blog when things are good or bad or whatever..

I've got a lot to say, and I was working on "Our Story" - a recap of a what I believed to be a true love story occurring one special night...little did i know that night would be our demise?

the best night turned into the worst night somehow.

"I've never been more comfortable in my life than in that bed with you..."