yea, I am stupid. I am stupider than you.

Cool. Wanna join my club?

I think "stupider" should be in the dictionary. It's not really a word, but everyone says it.

The only person I have ever heard that used the word stupider was from Holland,and I just think she was a little mixed up.

my stupid rock band used the phrase "most stupidest" on the flyer for our last concert. On purpose.

i like plain old dumbass. you figure you're pretty fucking stupid if your an ass. now if you're a dumb ass than that has got to make you stupider. right? or when i say stupid i mean stupid as in def.

Gotta love them Dutch girls - try a pair of them, tulips are better than one - sorry, couldn't restrain myself.

i'm a big fucker. not really, though, not literally. the last time i had real, actual sex was in march - i can't remember but it was either right before or right after my trip to austin - and it was awful. i was a size 14 then. but that's not why it was awful. he was awkward, i was out to prove something to myself. we were friends and we're still friends, close friends actually, and i think we both understand what that was all about and moved on. i only mention it because in my experience when the sex is really bad, it's rare to find a happy ending. so i find this particularly noteworthy. now, 10 months later, i'm a size 6 at banana republic and the gap. or size small on the bottom (i have no hips) and size medium on the top. i'm a size 8 in calvin klein and tommy hilfiger. not that i own anything in calvin klein or tommy hilfiger, but it was cold in detroit and i shopped often and tried on a lot of clothes just for fun but didn't buy anything. it was almost like an experiment. i did buy this great skirt at nordstrom rack that was originally like a billion dollars and i paid about $27 for it, it's a size 6 and i'm wearing it right now. the fabric is really soft. today someone at work asked me if i was losing weight. i always have to repress a laugh when people who haven't known me more than a few months ask me that question. upon returning from detroit i decided to go back into detox, because i drank a lot while i was there, and ate sugar, because that's what i do when i get drunk. i crave sugar. so i decided not to drink again for a while, but then when i got home from work yesterday to my surprise my friend edith was at my house baking an enormous lasagna and there were not less than 5 bottles of various red wines on the counter, and there was one in my hand as i stepped through the front door. it's a side door, actually, but it faces the front of the house. the front door faces the side of the house. it makes no sense. anyway, it was a surprise welcome home party for me and robbie and matt and brea and thomas all showed up and my housemate john was home so we all ate enormous amounts of the most magnificent lasagna i have ever eaten (no, really) and salad and garlic bread. keep in mind i haven't touched wheat in like forever. then for dessert there was vanilla ice cream with kahlua. so much for detox. i didn't drink too much, just a mellow easy buzz and it was good. then we played scattergories. i wanted edith to spend the night because she is beautiful and i feel safe with her, but she went home eventually. but that is not what i wanted to write about. back to the big fucker thing. my relationship with kevin is tearing me apart from the insides and i'm trying desperately not to feel this way because i know there's nothing i can do about it and if i try to force something to happen one way or another that every positive thing about our friendship would come crashing to the ground. it hurts so bad that now much of the time i wish i had never met him and i fight the urge to run away without saying goodbye and take with me all of the important things he's taught me over the past 10 months about love and friendship and honesty and apply it to a new life, a clean slate, to start over from scratch, and hope that eventually i can feel whole enough in myself to stop needing to be loved and searching for a reason to put down some roots. living on a month to month lease in a house where roommates are always coming and going, with goodwill and hand-me-down and left behind furniture, and dime store dinnerware and mismatched garage sale tumblers and lamps picked up from curbside trash and shelves made of plywood stacked on grey cinder blocks and living in a place where people are transient and friends and lovers come and go and come and go again does not lend itself to feeling rooted. i've come to accept that it's just not going to happen for me. if it was, it would have happened with kevin. the weird thing is that i know if i wanted something superficial i could let it happen with anyone. but i don't want anyone. so i have to find a way to put down some roots on my own, to start living an adult life without always hoping or wishing for or looking in the eyes of others for signs of the one who is going to save me and love me and give me a reason to want to settle down in to a quiet, normal, peaceful, happy life. that's a pipe dream. the only thing real is right now, this dumb bank job and weekend camping and bodybuilding and it all seems so stupid and meaningless, but this is what there is. the thing that sucks the worst is figuring out the logistics of a solo future. savings, investments, 401k's, retirement planning, insurance, blah blah blah. if i don't want to end up like my dad - alone, penniless, alcoholic, and marginalized - these are details that can't be ignored. in the meantime, i will probably go on pretending that being "just friends" with kevin is ok. i will go on trying to convince myself to be ok with it, to list over and over all the reasons why i don't need him and why being friends is more valuable and good for me and good for him and good for us, and how i should just be grateful for all of the beautiful things about our friendship, about knowing him and him teaching me things and helping me grow. but inside, i want more. i'm a silly little girl trapped in a lifetime of emotional wreckage, and i want the dream. the kind of dream that you see in the movies. i'm seriously *that* pathetic. which is why i'm just a big fucker and today i feel like crawling underneath the dirt in my garden and going to sleep for a long time.

oh, and to top it all off... i just got an email and found out that i didn't get the new job i wanted. fuck.

You didn't just describe a "big fucker" you just described a human being. In my opinion, it is the eternal pendulum of life that keeps it interesting and worth living. Would you really be comfortable living a deeply rooted, structured life where all the minutia of living is pre-determined? I have no idea who you are, or what you are like, but in reading the level of catharsis that came across in your last post, I doubt you would be happy with the "traditional" perfect life. A good example is my best friend. He got married three years ago, had the kid, bought the dog and the house, and is living what many consider the American dream. And while he loves his wife and child, he tells me repeatedly that he hates the fact that he didn't enjoy life on his own terms a little more before settling for the pre-packaged happy life kit from Sears. If you are a big fucker, then rest assured that I aspire to be a big fucker myself every single day.

i don't count wine as alcohol. try that sarah.

thanks you guys. after kevin came to detroit to meet me and my family, he hijacked me to Ft. Wayne to meet his family. his dad was relocated there from houston about five years ago. one of the best memories i have from my trip home was during that brief visit. after all of us finished a home-cooked lunch of texas style stew, bbq meatloaf and salad, kevin's mom and i had some time alone to sit at the kitchen table and talk. katie and kevin were upstairs getting ready and kevin's father was out walking the dog. she and i spoke quietly, easily, and there was little need for small, polite chatter. she is a very warm person, completely lacking in pretense. we got to know one another and exchanged ideas on a variety of topics. there were many large windows behind us which filtered in very white light, reflecting in from the heaps of snow that blanketed the deck and the back yard and the trees and the little pond. it was christmas eve. even now i can't help but wonder or wish that they were my in-laws, that i could feel closer to them, or have an excuse to keep in touch. it wouldn't be appropriate for me to call them now, just to talk, or to send them little gifts from hawaii just for no reason at all. but that's what i'd like to do. later that day me and their whole family piled into katie's car and we went to the assisted living facility where kevin and katie's 101 year old grandmother lives. to say she was an extraordinary woman would be grossly inadequate. her old-time southern gentility was firmly intact; she was quick-witted and silly and self-effacing. she called everyone sugar. and when she saw kevin, her face lit up and she said in a bright, slow drawl, "oh kevin... my, you are *too* good looking!" it was immediately evident that he is her favorite grandchild - and days later, when he was back in austin and i was back in detroit, we spoke on the phone and i told him so. of course, there's not supposed to be a favorite, but that's not always how it works. i was really hoping to get this new job, since my current job is becoming increasingly intolerable and stressful. now i sorta feel like any strap of hope or glimmer of much-needed change has been taken away from me. or at least, the easy thing was taken away from me. i'll just have to work harder to make other opportunities and to make some tougher decisions about where i want to take my life this year. i really gotta get out of here for a while.

what kind of a cruel person would come all the way up from austin to spend time with me for the first time since march, and to meet my family, and then take me to meet his family, his grandmother, all under the definition of "best friends"? we only kissed once. he kissed me. we were talking and laughing a lot and listening to music at 4 in the morning in his jeep, parked in a municipal parking lot in austin, and he suddenly said to me, "i'm going to kiss you now." and i said ok. and that was the first night we ever met, back in march. it wasn't until the days between then and now that we developed such intense feelings of respect and admiration for each other, a close bond, and discovered remarkably similar interests and humors and world views. you know, we just "clicked", and it was just as real and present and powerful on christmas eve as i thought it would be. it was even better than austin. i'm not making this shit up, it's not just in my head. and now this. it's like some sort of sick joke. ok, i'll stop dwelling now. mercifully it's almost time to go home. sleep is imminent.

god i love these boards. i feel so much better now.

What's keeping him away from you? Don't give up. Tackle him. You've got nothing to lose.

i'm just glad you feel or felt better.

there is nothing for me to tacle. besides, i do not tackle, nor do i chase. not any more, never again. i know what i want; it's not what he wants. he wants to be friends. simple as that. i would meet him half way, if he asked me to, if he gave me a sign, if he told me he wanted to give it a try. if he wants to step up and take a chance, i'm all for it, i'd risk everything, but that's his decision, his call - not mine. and i refuse to force anything to happen, to corner him into a decision. in fact, i've definitive plans to move forward this year, with or without him. if he ever changes his mind, it may be too late. i'm the type that has an internal switch for nearly every emotion, and when i eventually find the off-switch for kevin [and you better believe that i'm frantically looking for it], that'll be the end of it, just short of walking away from one of the best friendships i've ever had. i did it with michael, i did it with god, and now they are just scars of life's lessons. i am so sick and tired of this. it's always the same old thing. how do so many others make this shit seem so easy? someone please teach me that trick, quick. anyway. i'm going to take a valium or two now. hope you all have a good weekend.

It's not easy. And you don't have to force, just keep yor door open. But there's nothing wrong with reminding him that he can come in... If he thinks that's cornering, that's not your problem.

Alone, peniless, alcoholic and marginalized? HEY. DON'T KNOCK IT 'TIL YOU TRY IT.

Sarah, you make me feel almost sane, happy and well-adjusted....and that takes a lot. But me & my s/o (Ex-s/o?) have been going through a similar situation for the last 9 months or so.....so I can relate & sympathize.

Makes me happy I'm just schizophrenic part of the time. Answers will cost you more than bucket of sand.

You're never alone with a Schizophrenic. Ian Hunter said that.

he finally called. he was a bit frothy, but he called. he's calling again tomorrow for The Big Talk... or so he says. i'll probably be out hiking.

"The Big Talk" can be a frightening thing...it's like you desire & yet FEAR that dialogue. Fuggit----strutting my neuroses....gonna just slink back to my cave with the rest of the GOYIM!!!!!!!!!!!!

I dwell in Possibility A fairer House than Prose More numerous of Windows Superior - for Doors. E.D.

There's a certain slant of light Winter afternoons -- That oppresses, like the Heft Of cathedral Tunes -- ------E.D. 1861 and Keep passing open windows. ------John Irving

My thought exactly, Cat... Except I like the last stanza best: Of Visitors--the fairest-- For Occupation--This-- The spreading wide my narrow Hands To gather Paradise--

Well since mah baby left me I found a new place to dwell... ----E.P.

lol @ Pug ----Cat

Y'know....you can set ANY EMILY DICKINSON POEM to the tune of "The Yellow Rose of Texas". It's TRUE. Try it. Same exact principle works on ALL LYRICS by Slayer. Test it out yourself. I'm not fucking joking.

he's right, you know. he did his doctoral dissertation on it. pilate & i are singing a rousing chorus of "because i could not stop for death" right now. as we sing, pug's dancing in his underwear to some tune by veruca salt, leaping about like some flame-broiled gnome on crack. don't you wish YOU were having this much fun? don't you wish YOU were cool like us? as if the cool kids in school didn't all beat us like goddamn gongs. i'm watching pilate doing a drunken striptease. i'm watching pug artfully, masterfully drinking 40 ounces of mickey's malt liquor as only he can do it. watching pug drink is funnier than the roman catholic mass. well, see ya 'round, kiddies. here's mud in yer ass. "if you can't find a partner, use a wooden chair."

I don't just want'I NEED to party with,Crimsom,Pilate,and Pug,that's what's going on.Yep!

The Party is ongoing...feel free to join in.

oh, E.D's alright if you like that sort of thing. It's all about edward estlin. somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look will easily unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility:whose texture compels me with the color of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands ---- yeah. Damn. I'd give my left eye to write like that. Stick that in your "yellow rose" and smoke it, huh?

FUCK YOU, YOU ASS.

after all these years, i still don't get poetry. just a bunch of words.

any body know why I can't select from a Word doc, copy, and paste from Word to aol in order to post something? Here? Am I am idiot? I was gonna give Dave some really bad poetry to chew on.

I had a freshman english prof who actually brought up the Yellow Rose of Texas thing in her lecture. She hated E.D. and thought herself to be quite the scholar for discovering such an amazing thing. She was the same type of prof who, if presented with a notebook containing the lost scribblings of Hemmingway, would proofread for grammar and useage rather than the message. I would literally give my left nut to have one tenth of the passion that presents itself in E.D's writings.

who is E.D. ? actually, the question is E.D.'s name? thanks.

Emily Dickenson

erectile dysfuntion

1861?? wow, i thought she was a 20th century poet. i is unedumacated.

oh, and i want to post the elstin poem on my website. thanks.

in fact, i'm going over to amazon to buy an ee cummings anthology. i need one; it's overdue.

I think my favorite cummings poem was a really short one that started with the word, "yuhGUHduh", or something to that effect. I think he was trying to illustrate the ugliness of racism----cool jam. Chase it down.

Daniel- I think I remember that there was some trick to copy/pasting into AOL. Try pasting into a blank AOL document (under file->new) and copy/pasting from there onto the board? Maybe I'm just making it all up. And I have a feeling Dave knows that his anti-poetry rant was in proper haiku form. 5/7/5. Clever boy. I had a teacher once who loved Dickenson, and for whatever reason, teacher and I didn't get along. Dickenson bore my wrath-through-association. Nobody could play with words like cumming. man, he was incredible. in Just- spring when the world is mud- luscious the little lame balloonman whistles far and wee and eddieandbill come running from marbles and piracies and it's spring when the world is puddle-wonderful the queer old balloonman whistles far and wee and bettyandisbel come dancing from hop-scotch and jump-rope and it's spring and the goat-footed balloonMan whistles far and wee * I'm too lazy to fight with the formatting, so y'all aren't getting the full effect.

Okay----you nailed me to the core of my being, here w/in Just- & my eternal hero, the goat-footed balloon man (who is an incarnation of Pan, btw----) Dave, you had me hornswaggled....I didn't even catch the formula..... Crimson, what was that cummings poem you were quoting to me last night?

mudlicious! puddle-wonderful! yeah. yeahyeah.

pug, it was (& i hope i'm getting the title right)... "i sing of olaf glad & big" one of my fave cummings poems. & you can't even sing the sonofabitch to the tune of "the yellow rose of texas".

oh happy day! i found the switch and the spell has been broken! simple detachment. serene emptiness. i don't need to be saved. and i don't need to dream. and i don't belong anywhere in particular. every time the illusion presents itself to me, i fall into its trap. each and every time. i'd like to say i've learned my lesson this time, but for some reason i'm gullible and easily tricked and i'm sure i'll be tricked again. the illusion, it looks so good, but it's not to be, it's not my life. and oh well, life goes on. or it doesn't. and it doesn't really matter either way. yes!

oh, and i'm still a big fucker, but that doesn't matter either! ha!

here ya go: ---------------- i sing of Olaf glad and big whose warmest heart recoiled at war: a conscientious object-or his wellbelovéd colonel(trig westpointer most succinctly bred) took erring Olaf soon in hand; but--though an host of overjoyed noncoms(first knocking on the head him)do through icy waters roll that helplessness which others stroke with brushes recently employed anent this muddy toiletbowl, while kindred intellects evoke allegiance per blunt instruments-- Olaf(being to all intents a corpse and wanting any rag upon what God unto him gave) responds,without getting annoyed "I will not kiss your fucking flag" straightway the silver bird looked grave (departing hurriedly to shave) but--though all kinds of officers (a yearning nation's blueeyed pride) their passive prey did kick and curse until for wear their clarion voices and boots were much the worse, and egged the firstclassprivates on his rectum wickedly to tease by means of skilfully applied bayonets roasted hot with heat-- Olaf(upon what were once knees) does almost ceaselessly repeat "there is some shit I will not eat" our president,being of which assertions duly notified threw the yellowsonofabitch into a dungeon,where he died Christ(of His mercy infinite) i pray to see;and Olaf,too preponderatingly because unless statistics lie he was more brave than me:more blond than you. ------------

This world is not conclusion; A sequel stands beyond, Invisible, as music, But positive, as sound. It beckons and it baffles; Philosophies don’t know, And through a riddle, at the last, Sagacity must go. To guess it puzzles scholars; To gain it, men have shown Contempt of generations, And crucifixion known. - E.D. (And recited to the tune of Yellow Rose of Texas for Pug, Pilate and Crimson)

I am a cowboy in the boat of Ra. ...vampire outlaw of the Milky Way Now that's YeeHaa. Ishmael Reed I wish Someone would send me Hesse's poems

"The President's Weird/he's got a Burghundy Beard/He's a rip-off." -----Marc Bolan (Sorry for bringing the level of intellect down again....but it's what I'm good at....) Crimson, thanks for Olaf,that's a killer....Sarah----Neitzche would be proud....wish I could be that ironclad.... S'cuse me...gotta go lie down and bleed....in a cave.....with the g....g....goyim.....