| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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oh my god, kazu never drinks. she just reads books and writes papers and frets about being a good little student, always analytical. always articulate. (i forgot how hard it is to type when you've had a bottle of wine). anyway, kazu is drunk and because she doesn't care.... kazu thought of eva tonight when she had a baby moment. yay for patrick and nico, kazu hopes to be a happy mommy someday, but sometimes she's not sure if it's going to happen. patrick, some day we will be in either atlanta or LA together. (kazu drank a bottle of red ladybug organic wine) okay. kazu misses pezlapis. and spunkems. and ophelia. hal. come back. i hope you're having a good time. NATE!!!!!!!!!! (i feel like I should be leaving the typos so you'll actually believe that I am drunk) kazu misses eri and is glad she's been checking in from time to time kazu loves heather and thinks they would have a good time venting about annoying things like, annoying things, together kazu loves sarah for all the wonderful things she's said. I will inflict LARGE amounts of pain to anyone who fucks up in the sarah world. sarah. kazu thinks dave. and agatha are the shitkicking shits who rock the party. damn. send cleo to whatever college I am teaching at. kazu wants Rowlfe. and wisper to move in downstairs (it is REALLY REALLY HARD TO TYPE) so they can play the coolest music in the world all day long. and paint me pictures. (i pay, not a lot, but i do). Tbone. Tbone. Tbone. are you still the geek you proclaim to be? Sweet. Tbone. SPIDER!?!?!?!?!?!? some day we will meet and have a lovely dinner of intellectual discussions of being Catholic (and formally so), great novelists like William Faulkner and generally having fun, dropping notes about good grammar and tear jerking prose. J. you've brought so much happiness and joy to my life. just knowing that you exist in the world (yes, there is a little tear welling up). Your sense of humor, ability to access the absurd and the sincere in everything all at once. I want nothing but utter sweetness for you. always know you can write or call if there is anything I can do. so many times have I called upon a joke or a story you've told and it's brightened my day. (now I am crying. no more ladybug wine for me). Antigone. so smart. you might be the male version of me in one of my past lives. I don't know. thank you for the brass. give my love to little zachary. jack, i know you're sarah's, but we be good friends us, yo? mooontit. i have something for YOU. it goes in the mail tomorrow. New Zealand is on my list of places to go, all because of you. Come to the US please, I'll go wherever you be in this country. Dougie. silly, fishing, classical music loving, someday soon will be a daddy man. yes, you make me laugh. I know there is more. I confuse who I've actually spoken with to people I've read about. cyst you tell good stories. Cat, come back you s**y beast and entertain us. dani. watcher. v.v. (i've got a full on cry now) I am so shitfaced. damn. I feel like an undergrad again. ok, if I've forgotten anyone, I'm an ass. but i'm really drunk and spent way more time than anyone should spend on a drunk post. poops. (okay...*deep breath* here goes...) |
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Kazu rocks it. |
ladybug organic wine sounds (and reads) nice. |
You obviously needed a good drunk. So, I hope you are not hung over today. |
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yay kazu! you go girl. p.s. heather is also mine. |
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and now it's the weekend! party on, zu! whoa. i'm sarah's? just like that? me and heater? whoa. i'm not exactly complaining, mind you, but that sounds to me like it could be......witchcraft....that crazy witchcraft. i know it's strictly taboo, but am i out of line here or what? a toast to kazu/there's no one like you! |
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I need a good drunk like that real SOOOOOOON. |
Thanks guys. Today I was not hungover, just tired. No aches and pains. The wine was really really good. I highly recommend it. Some kind of organic red table wine with ladybugs on the label. Ladybugs. |
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Booker makes this small batch, single barrel, unfiltered bourbon. The only unfiltered bourbon you can buy, so says Booker Noe. Dark brown like weak coffee and variable age, variable proof. Depends on what it is when it's ready, so says Booker Noe. This bottle is 8 yrs 5 mo and 126.8 proof. "The respectful amount of bourbon to pour in a glass is about two finger's worth. Lucky for me, I have big fingers." so says Booker Noe. I imagine his fingers like pale pink carrots; like writhing, hairless, new born mammals. I see my fingers are older than I remember them and not particularly thick and certainly that doesn't matter because I can pour without repect to what is respectful in the mind of some flesh lump dressed and walking. Even if he is a master distiller. Even if he times his bourbon spectacularly. I pour what pours and then splash a bit from my water glass. I'm not ashamed; I don't need to prove myself with my liquor and I enjoy it more when it is cut just slightly. My throat doesn't dry out as the bourbon shuffles downward in a curtain of mist. i'm deeply fond of these sorabjiites. I read that patty is going to hit 5 years and I wonder to myself where that puts the old salts. Not to imply that the new guns are any less sorabjiites, or that I'm any less fond of them. but now i'm thinking, i've known some of you for nearly a decade. a fucking decade. in capitals, except i don't feel up to being abnoxious. it's coming, for some reason i don't want to do the math, i won't do the math, but i came here a few years ahead of patty at least. i mean, does patty remember smoke? does . .. ... this .... ..... .... ... mean anything .. . ? and there was the time before me, some of you are from there. from that happy place that i never figured out. the great one certainly, and others. i always assume everyone who was there when i got there. who i noticed in my first deep breath of the place. i assume they were born in the grain of the wood, that they'd arrived with the flat stones, that they were poured with the foundation. there are these epochs of existence for me. the before, then my virgin years. when i saw gods around every corner. when the swine was still blind and sorabji moved among us. when i'd drink myself into a piss and unhook myself from something soft and squint at the black and white and yellow. your cyan names. something about this place brought out the arrogant asshole sonofabitch in me. it started here and seeped into my real life. all around me i'm getting tastes of new things and the drugs are finding me and i am reaching out and touching and being touched and it all fills me and overflows overflows this electric burn that makes you twitch and tighten and look around to see who was watching. to see if anyone heard or if you even said that outloud. this absence that drops behind your eyes and unhooks your mouth from your mind like a the pop of an A cup brastrap and you're saying everything you knew you shouldn't you knew you shouldn't but your words are coming and suddenly it's out and you've nothing to do but deal with the consequences. learnt here, learnt with the recursive safety net of Preview/Post, learnt and ignored and bled over into real life. i have this theory, part of my innate paranoia, perhaps, innate, ignore the origins, ignore the culpability and the contaminiation and the perchant for sin. i have this theory that when i arrive it cut the gums of a handful and fouled their sweet spit with acrid blood and caused their eyes to darken and something small, i'm not so selfcruel to think large, something small and good and happy to die, to be entombed in rough black bark, to be smothered and watched in ashes drifting to the ground. just a theory. and then we got nemisis after nemisis, and then the waffle boy, nemisis at first. any intruder, any threat to society, any drift from the status quo. the fuck you, you ass, we've been burned before, pages and pages of worthless venom, pages and pages. then trace, say, to bump patrick off piss boy, we continue on. and on and v.v. and someday will v.v. been endeared upon us? it's already begun, hasn't it. maybe our new piss boy is here. kazu, you had it so fucking easy. and so it should be, without any disrespect to those who had to earn their stripes. and not to say there wasn't any stripe earning by kazu, who knows what is unseen, what is unintended and felt otherwise, what is intended and unheard. who knows. i'm deeply fond of you sorabjiites. especially the ones who i secretly believe have written me off as a cancer stain, a worthless evil, a root of nothing good. not especially, but with a special eye, a special room in my heart. that is the nature of my sickness. i'm drunk and the roommates are home and it is Berkeley and beautiful, blue skies and warm air and the shadows of tree branches cast on sunlit bark make me shiver. it's coming up on a decade. a fucking decade. i don't know if it is two years or one year or this year. i don't know who here has already crossed the line. i don't know fucking anything. isn't it wonderful? |
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whenever someone puts ten ! after my name it makes me feel so happy. whoever broke me from the ... excessive use of ... elipses, goddamn thank you goddamn. i don't know who it was but i know it was here. there are three women here who have have hugely impacted my self confidence in writing. you know who you are, i'm certain of it, and if you don't, assume you do. and don't try guessing the other two. mark thomas you've put a fear in me. i won't explain it in any more detail than to say i'm not sure it is a bad thing. sem, you are the nice guy ruler i measure myself against. i spent about five minutes trying to word that right. i hope it makes sense, because that's the best i can do. tiggy, your claim of a small dick has never left my mind. who knows why. i'm embarassed i even know you. you sorry, ratfucking sack of shit. i hope that makes sense. patty, i don't know why you got that brother spot in my ribcage, but you did. a lot of good that did, i haven't even met your kid. maybe this summer. and on and on. |
Not to rain on your parade or anything. but I'm not feeling the love, tonight or any night. I don't know what happened to me. For a long while I was a happy person, and I was light and cheerful, and I wrote a lot, I wrote poetry. I had been so bitter and furious for so long, and then it lifted in a miracle, and for several years I was happy and good. But it's been gone now for a while, for about 3 or 4 years, and I don't know why or how it went away. Maybe it went away when my parents split up. I can't remember now. I remember when I thought if only I could get rid of one problem, if I could stop doing one thing, then I would be really good and whole and spotless. And now I *have* stopped doing that one thing, and I see I am so far from spotless it's ridiculous. I feel so hard and dry inside. Who knew being called hard-hearted would hurt so much? I don't know what to say except that I really don't like this world, which sucks because there's no other world to live in. I hate people. I hate. I don't understand how people can believe that most people are basically good and are trying the best they can, when that is patently not true. Most people don't give a shit about anyone except themselves. Most people are brain dead and soulless. This is true. This is known. I don't understand how people who should know better can perpetrate acts of great evil and not care and not get punished. Catholic bishops in Rome helped hundreds of Nazi war criminals escape justice after the war, and what happened to them? Were they caught and punished? Did their consciences bother them? How is it that they, fucking bishops, can allow themselves to do that, and I sit here having fucking panic attacks because I worry that my soul will be lost because I think about sex too much? How is that? You'd think God would prevent evil soulless people from becoming His representatives on earth, wouldn't you? I would. They're supposed to be Christ on earth, so how is it that they don't all get into car accidents before their ordination or something? I don't even pray every day, and I can tell when I'm doing something contrary to God's will, so how is it that men who purportedly devote their lives to God and are supposed to be sensitive to his voice can't tell or refuse to stop when they do something wrong? How is it that Joseph Mengele can die of old age and good people like Nick Berg die horrific deaths when they're young and full of life and goodness? I don't understand how people can look Satan in the face and not blink. I don't understand how people can look at those pictures of Iraqis being pissed on and debased, and make excuses, or think that that is anything less than absolute revolting evil. Are they so far damned to think that's okay? Was Dante right, are their souls in hell already and are demons living in their bodies right now? What can I do? |
and smoke only worked for me once. For 5 tiny, shiny minutes i talked to Mark, alone. I asked him if New York really did smell bad, like everyone says. Then it crashed. |
i don't like this world, either. |
In other moonit news, my friends Jamie and Lesley are talking about getting married in Vegas 2006. I'm bloody going if they are, and I expect you all to come. There's nothing like pissed kiwis. |
"Was Dante right, are their souls in hell already and are demons living in their bodies right now? " YES. That makes so much sense. Spider, go see "Kitchen Stories" - Kazu and I saw it last night and I knew that it was a movie you would enjoy, and I think it would help you feel better too. |
all i can suggest is that you move away from the window and not spend so much time peering out. im trying, unsuccessfully myself. i thought i was going to boil over at the news yesterday, regarding Nick Berg. Thats two under the current administration. *blink blink* im trying to not think about it as much because it will eat me up. i wish i knew you more. |
i've just been afraid to ask because i didnt want it to end up like the other 6 books on my desk that have bookmarks in the middle. not that they are bad books, but my time. Where is it? I feel its something that warrants direct and uninterrupted attention. sound gay? maybe. but i want to read it and I will read it. and i need to know how to get it. eva said 'dahhy' for the first time in recent days. considering 'cat' was her first word, im suspecting 'nate' wouldnt be too difficult for her. |
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smoke was pure magic. because it was secret, given only to the chosen few. because it was technologically new and awkward. because we could see each other and all be in the same room at the same time. there was dialogue. because you never knew who was going to walk in the door at any given time - and what you might get caught saying to whom. the difference between the old salts and the new guns isn't determined by time. it's this: the old salts are the ones who were here when the great one was accessible and real, when he walked and talked among us, when he shouted obscenities at us and showed us his hidden photos. when he answered email. when he was still curious about the internet. when he pulled us close, but never too close, before suddenly shoving us away. and then pulling us close again. then shoving. the black and white and yellow allowed me to pretend. it allowed me to try on different personalities. i was always so much more dramatic and glamorous back then. i could show the very worst parts of myself. so self absorbed. thank you for putting up with me. i could pour my heart out and say things i really thought and felt but would never admit in any other context. if anyone from my life today ever read all those things i posted so long ago, i would have a lot of explaining to do. in a sense, none of it was true. i don't miss those who've gone away or who are hiding. their disinterest or arrogance or forgetfulness means nothing to me. if they let something, anything, get between them and the magic and sacrid appeal of sorabjiland, then good riddance. except sheila. always. sheila, like mark: omnipresent. i know why kazoointoit had it easy. for one, she had a coach. but also she did a lot of reading before jumping in. those who have it easy, they read and they read between the lines. those who don't read first rarely last more than a working week - even if we permitted it. those who don't read between the lines will never get it, even if they stick around. i was slightly drunk last night. i made frozen pina coladas at home, alone, while i baked my great grandmother's honey cake. when i finished the pitcher i was wishing i had a computer at home like i used to. i wanted to sit and write to you all about... about so many things. the mystery of time. the bond. i've known most of you for a very long time. you all were right about everything, each and every time. and i can't list names, it would be impossible. but each of you are very unique and special to me, deep down, to the very core of my soul and psyche. i owe all of you more than i could ever put down in black and white and yellow. i tried to explain you all to senor not too long ago. it was impossible. it's a show about nothing, is what i ended up saying. |
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Grandma Ri's Honey Cake Ingredients 3 cups flour 1/2 cup white sugar 1 tea baking powder 1 tea baking soda 1/2 tea salt 3/4 cup vegetable oil 1/2 cup brown sugar 1 cup honey (or more) 3 eggs 1 cups strong black coffee juice of 1/2 lemon plus grated lemon rind Combine first 5 ingredients in one bowl. Combine next 4 ingredients in another bowl using electrix mixer. Add dry to wet until just combined. Mix in coffee and lemon stuff. Bake in a greased 9x9x11 pan at 350 degrees for 45-70 minutes. |
clearly i wasnt one of the chosen few. maybe it was before my time. |
The funny thing is that the guy who inspired much of that, my freshman year college roommate, has been on my mind this past week. After not hearing from him for a while I found out that he's in Iraq now, has been for the past three months, and will be for another nine. (Army) Anyway, I've got a lot to say, but I want to take some time to collect it all. I'll just zip out some quick thoughts. kazu, thanks! I found your words to be the highest of complements coming from an intellectual of your stature. Nate, you nipple twister, you made me laugh in the way I surely will an instant before my death. I hope that makes sense. And, Rhiannon.... It's terrible to lose innocence, and it sounds like the last gasp of it has left you. You've gone farther than most ever do. Don't stop. Instead of just loving the world innocently, now you can learn to love the world with wisdom. The former is beautiful, but the latter is extraordinary. You can do it. Don't give up. |
Kazu didn't have a coach, she figured it out on her own self. (the sorabji boards is responsible to a very large degree for putting us together - heck probably completely responsible.) how about that? I'd gush and stuff but I'm at work and it's piling up around my ears. Besides, I think i've done that already somewheres. maybe later. |
A quick search tells me that I've used my favorite, "Ben Affleck in crushed tablet form", no less than 7 times. |
I would get sappy too, but I don't have time right now. I miss Mark. |
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mark played scrabble with me even though i cheated. mark taught me how to be a champion scrabble player in three easy lessons. now i don't have to cheat and i will kick your ass! sarah made me want to share more of myself, she is an amazing kind of fearless. |
it's a beautiful day outside. I wish I were out with the screaming kids, instead of inside a moderately sized office avoiding actual work. |
I'm not very good at gushing, so I'll be awkward instead. Stick with what you know. My sense of time is so bent and crooked that I can't make myself believe how long I've been in and out and around these boards. I feel like several completely different people have inhabited my body in that time, but if I look back at even my earliest postings, I do recognize a little of myself. So perhaps not all is lost. Or maybe I just haven't escaped, after all. Do any of you remember my melodrama back in High School? I think it took a long time for me to 'get' this place. To varying degrees, I've always had an inferiority complex in the context of Sorabji.com. It wasn't helped by my inability to follow people's lives and changes in handles, or to separate certain people in my mind. I wish I could remember. My last long hiatus was dangerously close to being permanent, but this won me back so hard it made my eyes squirt. Thank you. Why was I hiatusing? Because I got my feelings hurt. In other words, I was being stupid and should have known better. It's probably because nate has always been my favorite that I let his offhand comment get to me. Of course, he was right, too. Stupid political threads. You guys were the best thing ever in the lonely first year of college. You guys are the best ever. I want to send you all presents. Especially Mark Thomas. I feel like I grew up here. I really liked meating (meeting. meat space.) Agatha and dave. and the family. I'd like to try again sometime. Maybe I won't be so weird. I enjoyed Pez's visit too. I'd like to meet more of you. The times I've recieved mail from you have been like Christmas. Seeing real, physical evidence of your existence is like magic. I worship you. All of you. Well, maybe not worship. That sounds creepy. But I like you all a hell of a lot. You're my pals. I want the best things to happen to you. God, I'm hungry. Ok. To recap, thanks for everything, folks. You're the greatest. |
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Couple of cute ones of the spawn that i took so she would have current images with her on the trip. http://www.printroom.com/ViewAlbum.asp?userid=accustat1&album_id=177999 |
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I was referring to the part where moonit started the "who missed TBone" roll-call, not your having a child. Though I was sorry to have been hiatused when that happened. My eyes didn't literally squirt, but I was lonely and angry and sad, and it was really nice to hear that I was missed. That, and I've always had to fight down this illogical belief that nobody would miss me if I were to disappear in pretty much any context. At the time, I probably couldn't have told you why I was hiatusing. Oy. Awkwardness quota exceeded. |
awkwardness ensues. |
awkwardness inflated. |
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Anyways, it makes me happy that all the same names are still here. I feel like I need to just check up and remind myself that things never change quite as much as daily life convinces me they do. Aggh. This post seems stupid too and I'm tempted to just back space this whole thing and close the window too. But I've been feeling all sentimental lately. Not sure why though I do have my theories. Apparently I'm not the only one. That was sweet kazu, and Nate, I didn't know you had it in you. That was sweet too. I got back here this time because of this post: http://bbs.sorabji.com/messages/57/5158.html?SaturdayMay1920010205pm Really. The kid I'd been looking for actually found me through that post. He did a search for his name, found all of that and then found me. It's had me all back in that headspace I was in back then and I'm not really feeling like me so much today. Anyway, I'd love to make promises that I'm gonna stay around this time but I've done it before and I know I'm full of shit. But I'll try this time. You sorabji kids have always been my favorite bunch on the intranert, and well, all of the stuff above this sorta shows why.... |
hey everyone kalli is getting married! tell em where kalli. tell em tell em. these kind of events don't go untouched around here. |
We're getting married here: http://www.poemuseum.org .... and then we're having a badass bbq and a couple of kegs as a backyard reception. I've got bets that my Dad passes out drunk before anyone else.. Hell yes I know my roots. |
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I'm not. Actually, the garden at the museum is one of the purrrtiest places in Richmond. Sides, price wise it was either that or a public park. Shit be expensive yo'. |
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Y'know, it's funny cuz the whole reason we're keeping this whole thing low key is to avoid stress...but I'm starting to stress anyway..even through really all it is is a big ass party. Why is that? |
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So you know, it's still romantic in a way. |
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I'm one of the ones that is by my own definition, included in the Good Riddance bit of Sarah's post. And I wouldn't worry about it too much..cuz the way I see it, sometimes life takes over and it's hard to keep ranting and rambling about all of it when you don't always know what to say in the first place. That's what drove me away from here. I was too confused about what was going on with myself that how the hell could I have shared it all with a bunch of, as much as I feel I know at least one of these people well, strangers. I said earlier that I really dig seeing the same names that have been here year after year each time I come back. I really do. But I get that not everyone can show a message board such loyalty... So you get problems and they might go on for a few years or so, but eventually you realize your heading down a fucked path and you turn it around. As long as you do, I think that's what matters... |
Hang in there, you fucking shitsnack. And get help. We are all rooting for you whether you want to believe it or not. You're part of the pantheon. |
You bitches know things about me that no one else on the planet knows. That's kinda scary. One really nice thing I've learned from this place is how to thoroughly humiliate myself and still come back. In real life I always run away after I've done something embarrassing, usually for good. But, as embarrassed over the things I've written here I've been (how's that grammar?), I always come back. And that's a good thing. Also, when I was in college and had no friends, I... *sniffle* ... I had you guys. It's true. Thanks for that. |
Skooter. wah! |
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Dougie, you don't lurk. you pop in here on a very regular basis, even if it's not every week. even the regulars take weeks or months off. i'm talking about the ones who've really gone. |
Shitsnack -- that's hysterical. I read it as "snitshack" though. I'm getting lysdexic. Reminds me of my dog who loves cat poop. We call the cat litter box the "snackbox". We had to resort to using boxes with lids (Buddha boxes), but if in cleaning them out, you walk away for a minute when the lids are off, she'll be there chowing down. Fucking dog. She's a sweetheart though -- naughty as hell, but a sweetheart. |
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and we all know your dog is named Sarah. thanks for leaving that bit out, though. |
i mean really. less cheese, more tease. actually wouldnt it be fun to upload annonymous pics of naughty bit and you could you match the bit to the family memeber? i'd love the idea of looking at pic of a pair boobs wondering if they are spider's. |
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im in a tight place these days heather. |
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yea and i photoshopped a clown face on your wee-wee. |
I just mean that, I don't think god wants you to have panic attacks from worrying about these things. |
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"the sorabji boards is responsible to a very large degree for putting us together - heck probably completely responsible" well, if agatha hadn't directed sem to nerve, none of it would've happened. As for everything else, let's just say that sorabji helped me from doing something really really really stupid. I am more than halfway through Nate's book. Nate, I will send you some more substantial feedback when I am done, but for now, let me just say that I started it a few days ago and read a lot of it on the flight home from Dayton this evening. I was so absorbed in the story I read it as I walked through the airport and nearly fell flat on my face at the end of one of the George Jetson type moving walkways. Kalli, congrats again. My bestfriend just moved to Richmond to help another of our friends with her consulting business. I'm sorry things are so tough Dougie. Therapy is a good thing if you have a good therapist, one that's right for you. Seriously, I've had something like ten therapists and psychiatrists in the last twenty years or so and all but maybe one or two were tremendously helpful in helping me figure all my shit out. Spider's post actually brought me back around to when I first started posting here, the summer before I moved to Atlanta. I'd just moved home from Ohio where I'd had all this personal growth and realization, I'd met Sem and all was good. It was a time when I thought I'd try to be less bitter and cynical. I couldn't bring myself to be fully optimistic, but I tried to be more thoughtful, pragmatic, and balanced in my approach to things which I hoped would foster a more positive outlook. That didn't last long. Instead of feeling more positive I was just angrier than I had been before. I like being cynical. I don't think I am so in a dismissive kind of way. I once read somewhere that a cynic is just an idealist whose had their rosecolor glasses smashed. That's me. At some point being idealistic and optimistic just became too painful because of what Spider was saying. Don't get me wrong, I still try to be fair and not see the world in black and white, it's just easier for me to approach things with a touch of bitterness. |
It's a sweet little city-town. I'm sure your friend will love it. I can't imagine being anywhere else. And, y'know, it's funny how people end up meeting in ways that may seem "unconventional" or actually, even more than that, when the words "if I hadn't done this then then maybe..." come into play. As much as I believe in free will, I think there's a sort of fate playing with us somewhere too. Not just sorabji...it's all over the web. I wonder to think how my life would be entirely different if it weren't for keystrokes... |
I used to depressed as a teenager up until high school, but I don't remember ever feeling anxious, per se. Now I don't get depressed anymore, but I have problems with anxiety. But in between those two phases was that brief period when I was happy and truly believed everyone was basically good and was trying the best they could. Maybe it was working in customer service that changed my mind about that. That's a lot of bull about anxiety being overthinking to avoid the feared emotions. Anxiety is hell, and you certainly don't avoid any painful emotions going through it. You feel them all at once! Depression is the shutting down of thinking of feeling in order to avoid the pain. At least for me, anyway. Eh, whatever. I have to mow the lawn now. |
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Would you like to know the exercises I learned in biofeedback? It really works. Like anything else it takes time. I used to get real physical pain when under stress. My stomach muscles would tighten followed by my back muscles. It was like I was in a vise. I would be rolling in pain on the bed. It took a lonnnng time to get rid of it. And, now and then I still get a twinge. |
The anonimity (spelling ?) of this place allows us to freely spill our guts, to some extent, without worry. Let us praise Mark Thomas for providing us this wonderful place to paint the graffity that is our lives. |
plus I drop many clues as to my real life. if anyone knew what they were doing, they could find and stalk me with ease. Thank God there are no crazy psychopaths posting here! ha ha, whew. |
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Even the right kind of nuts doesn't keep this dirty old mind from working. Just picture Woody Allen doing his manic leturous routine and you can guess how my mind works. Then maybe we can run amok. Or, walk amok if one of us is to tired. |
great word. "Amok Time" great Star Trek. |
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I got it at Trader Joe's. |
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I think that little sex fiend is a part of all human beings. It's just that most of us tend to keep him locked up in a closet in our minds. Mine hid the key so he wanders about in there a lot. Luckily he's really a small part of me so the rest can pretty much keep him in check. |
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then i'm senselessly, silently screaming out to mark, this place, you better getyourshifttogethernow.com or everything might die and i'll lose my past, our pasts. when they're back up, i come here to read this thread, every time, and it helps me get straight again. there's nothing i wouldn't give. |