sometimes I can see it happening, so clearly. almost feel it happening.

I'm walking on the street, on my way to work or maybe to the store, and suddenly a car turns around the corner too fast and runs me over when crossing, or a ram charger drives up the curb and crushes me against a wall. there I lay (or stand) all squished, insides destroyed, my foot or maybe even half a leg left behind me on the curb, my face scraped up and my fingers blistered from the engine's heat, feeling the grit and dirt and blood on my broken teeth,

and I always think, the last thought that'll cross my mind will probably be, 'well, that sure was a whole lot ado about nothing'.

and on a much lighter note, I 've realized today that for some reason, my exes constitute a great part of my friendships. I wonder what that means, that today all the conversations that went beyond the hi, how are you, happened with some incarnation of former foolish love.

I don't know the reason, but I guess I'm grateful. without them to chat with, I'd feel pretty lonely when I'm here lurking in my hole.

sometimes it seems like there's so much that you need
sometimes the world is upside down
sometimes it seems like the only thing you need
is holdin' someone's hand as you walk through town

I don't like pretending to be this tough. I just don't know what else to do or how to act. I realise I probablydon't live in the world of Grand Malade, but for me it's just so difficult to reach out, specially when I feel cornered or awkward. everything just seems out of place.

the house hunt goes on despite continuing rains and workload, but I've found nothing worthy of mention. my mother texts me sperantical blessings, which lose validity when going through all the technolobilia, I believe.

just like my online bullshit tarot readings. all of which read that I'm hellbound for disaster.

ABSOLUT bananas

this week I'm a model of industriousness, even right now as I attempt to catch up on my correspondance --mostly with about.com--; spellcheck the last batch of the latest riveting issue in the Car Manual Saga, 207,000 pages of pure raw excitement; telepathically contact 1) my french boss, who's probably wondering what could possibly make me confuse 'i'll check in on tuesday' with 'I'll call on thursday. maybe." 2) my bank, so they'll crunch debit & credit to come up with rent money sufficient for the last month of my residence herein; puzzle out what to wear to work tonight, since after three days of ongoing event I have wrung out every possible use out of my very limited wardrobe, especially on the shoe area; conciliate the fact that my online radio station is playing damian rice AGAIN and thus now I have successfully managed to choke up at 10 am;

and I make my attempts from my bed because I'm utterly exhausted. intensity strikes down again with more relatives passing away, impending doom on the lovefront, with a lot of things that need to be done/said/dealt with on both of our parts, inminent homelessness and destituteness, plus I've newly rediscovered an old knack of mine, the amazing nausea in the morning... all that on top of having to run all week on heels and interpreting vodka tastings (which is excellent fun I promise, no complaints there except for yesterday night, when I had to apologize in the name of my country and humanity in general when some stupid pimply junior came to one of the most renowned cocktailers in the world, and who probably is worth more than him and his father combined, and ordered a vodka tonic. fortunately the mixologeer is so cool he politely told him to sit down and be quiet instead of cursing him in swedish, smashing a martini glass on the bar, and cutting Pimples a little, like he was entitled to).

oh and I just found out my cellphone is dead, cause in all this tedium I haven't found the time to go and pay the bill. yay.

also, I think I live in the twilight zone. ufos might still get me...

first of all, I hereby thank all the gods that be, sgt pepper for his 40th anniversary miracle, and father avila who can't have hurt, when guiding me to my estranged cat last friday.

every bruise, every single scratch, every curse we earned from a sleep loving neighbor, every shock from the electric fence of her heightly imprisonment, felt like bliss with honey and pancakes as I walked back with my flipped out kitty press-packed inside a tiny pink Barbiepack borrowed from the owners of the house where we found her, who were very eager to get rid of my loudly meowing midnight presence.

your Majesty says thankee, too.

and now that my spiritual leader is back and we can go back to dealing with Real World, something I just couldn't do or manage last week, I realize that without my noticing, my life has gone quite bonkers again. I realized today that my life has turned to shit, when I found myself looking forward to going to work and get distracted with all that.

when you're a xenophobical turd and your work is your sanctuary, it's not nice when it is invaded by hordes of people, especially when your gentle and usually calm oasis of butterflies and teacups becomes the shelter for EVERYONE else as well, including two self important film crews, a press conference for the V--- F-- girls, who are as unheard of as utterly plain and a huge pain in the ass with a miniskirt, along with every single ever watching eye to be there and make smartass comments --or notes plus the odd drop in and stray.

I took too many aspirins today.

I hate being like this --I know there are many things that require my attention RIGHT NOW, but I can't concentrate. because seemingly without my vitamins I turn into a spineless something that feels crowded and won't function anymore --let alone work all day, finish the books at the shop, and prepare for a presentation next week... not to mention keep up with gym, plants, and starving brothers, but I have to get intense don't I. and want to do nothing but to slowly decay.

remember birdman? he was my favorite when I was little, I loved him and was fascinated by the fact that he lost his powers when away from sunlight, I guess I liked it that he was so fucking cool and at the same time could suck so much and so easily.

I also loved the fact that Avenger, the eagle, was the one who ended up saving the day, and on the few occasions when Avanger was abducted/disabled in some way birdman was rendered utterly useless:



I remember playing I was birdman --never birdboy or godforbid birdgirl and wish I had an Avenger, a cool companion/relative who would complement me and never failed me. my daemon.

you're my Avenger lily, please COME BACK GODDAMIT everything's turning to shit and I REFUSE to go on WITHOUT you. today I posted pictures of you all over the block; I hope you're happy, I had to plaster your face in plastic slips and I've left my socks on the roof, you know I don't have many, so now please COME the fuck BACK so we can make plans and move on as we're meant to.

in the meantime, birdman is deprived of sunshine...

your timing is just atrocious, you know.