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Dismissed. Rejected! Publicly humiliated. Why, it's more than I can bear.


"Welcome back Panksters" indeed. I don't actually update, obviously, I just need a space to write down some thoughts.

As always, I am caught between my rational self and that heart-tug feeling when someone you meet starts making your ears burn. Once again, I have a crush on someone. And once again, I am avoiding them out of fear. Soon I will start to miss them terrible, I will be weird around them, they will no longer desire my company, and I will retreat into the safety of my blankets with a box of Yoohoo.

C'est la vie.

But no matter what, my dear friend, you are a wonder to us all. I might be more jealous of you than I am enamored.


...and she reclined, exhausted, in a rotting easy chair by the fire. A tabby cat watched her from the table, unmoving, its golden eyes reflecting the flicker of the crackling flame. Drills at the back of her head.

Why couldn't she find the answer? She'd poured over mildewed books and tomes that threatened to turn to dust at her finger tips. She'd scoured libraries, read lists of books left in private collections to die, harassed and prodded everyone in her contact list who might know anything about anything she needed. There WAS an answer. DeMille had found it. Yet here she was, ten times the brainpower of that idiot, spent and bleary and allergic to dust, looking into the depths of a spitting flame for clues.

The cat was a statue behind her, glass eyes mocking her with the well of information behind the gold. The cat was eternal; the cat had seen it all. The cat was there when DeMille cracked the riddle and fell through the tear to perfection. The cat knew the answer. Maybe if she opened the cat...

RIP Mr. Banditos, greatest kitty ever.

Aug. 17th, 2010

And so begins the age of desperation. I am not an entirely complex individual, but I am not content with going simply with the way things are. I have a job. I will go nowhere with this job. I have schooling that does not apply to this job. I have no desire to finish this schooling. I look out across my yard and wonder why I didn't plant a garden this year. Empty buckets and string lights haunt a doghouse sagging under the suckering maple tree. I never cleaned them up.

This is my office; my command center. It's also my living room. I have a small TV, no cable, rest on the joining of two table chairs. My laptop, not even mine, stands ever-vigilant in the early morning watercolor, letting me type this out. In my lap, my computer, the melted, diseased machine decay playing music I'd forgotten I owned, open only because it has the one program I like to use for cheap, digital artwork. Dime a dozen. I'm either drinking very late at night, or starting very early in the morning. Does it count if you never stopped?

My younger brother has taken over the pull-out couch my ex and I bought for 300 dollars at Ikea. My boyfriend is upstairs sleeping in my twin bed, not even mine, but the one I stole from my brother's room after he moved out the first time. I have not cleaned seriously in some time.

Today is my day off, and I feel like wallowing in the emptiness of it. I have nothing to do. I should call the doctor. I should clean the house. I never want to go back to that big, concrete building with orange and white wall paint, grey registers, the itchy canvas apron with my name tag on it. I want to set the building on fire. I want to watch. I don't want to get out of bed, even though I'm sitting in a chair.

I'm bored. I feel busy. There are too many people, but I am very lonely. I want to wield a hammer and battle forces of clearly-defined evil. I want to loot. I want to pillage. I want to be a hero. I want to be able to sleep. I want to be a better artist. I want a garden. I want to kill everyone. I want to get drunk.

ZZZZzzzzZZZZzzzzZZzz I am so very tired.
...Men with shallow hearts and shallow minds; perspectives less indulged and dry, pitiful and short and desperatly vacant, the cold hum of a motel sign.

I was not among them. How could I be? My eyes were worn by the fatigues of the world, but I saw the burning madness through crystal lenses, like seeing orange fish at the bottom of a mirror pond; you reach out to touch it, and it's gone. I'd like nothing more than to retreat into the safety of ignorance -- tried to, even -- but anything that had ever bumped in the night was at my door and in my head, casting doubts on my security, leaving me wild-eyed and paranoid in the early morning.

My adoring partner stirs briefly in protest, arm outstretched, craving the warmth of another human being and finding it gone. I tell him I cannot sleep, computer hooked under one arm, Sangria in the other, and that he should get some rest. His tossled mess of sandy blonde hair barely hits the pillow before he's out, careless and content in the falsehoods and shadowlands of dreams and idle wishes.

I am not so lucky, and that brings us here. Something is moving.




Jan. 2nd, 2010

Dear Livejournal,
A few weeks ago, I worked up the courage to awkwardly tell the guy I'm head over heels for how I feel about him. Lucky me, he feels the same way, but is worried about dating so soon after breakups and wants to be cautious.

Guess who has a new girlfriend? Guess who doesn't know why I'm mad?


Comics part 1

Deadpool: Merc With a Mouth #6: Still funny, still wandering around with Headpool. Even though Deadpool will be traversing the Marvel Zombie universe (I hope?), the funniest part of the comic was actually the recap. And I can never look at Marvel Zombies again after what they did to Spider-man.

Tiny Titans #23: THIS IS SO CUTE. If you don't read any comics at all, you should at least read Tiny Titans. Batman just... and Tim and Jason dressed up as baby Robins... and they glued bunnies to the ceiling HJSDGHBHDYGDSHR it's like adorable crack that doesn't suck.

Deadpool #18: Usually I like Merc With a Mouth better than the regular Deadpool title, but nooooot thiiiis weeeeeek. They've been playing up the funny, hilariously silly part of Deadpool, so it's nice to take a break and see the guy actually be good at something. He saved the X Men's reputation AND the day, just by being a smart cookie with major skills. And Cyclops looked like a cock, which is nice.

Justice League: Cry for Justice #1: NGL, I only bought this because the art is kind of extremely cool. Except... um... he makes Wonder Woman's bottom half like, really skinny? Like I think that would ride up into her vag and be horrible :( BUT OLLIE CALLING HAL "BABY" AND WANTING TO RUN OFF AND FIGHT CRIME WITH HIM? YES. I AM FOR THIS. rofl they're so funny together.

Ollie: "Remember back int the day... when I lost my millions and became liberal?" <-- I wish this would happen to more people.

Justice League: CFJ #2: Hal: I have a confession to make.
Ollie: If it involves the Huntress, Lady Blackhawk, and a bottle of Grappa, Dinah already told me. And all I have to say is "Well played, sir".

Oo! And DC has a legit gay hero who isn't a lesbian? I did not even know that. Now I am in the loop.

Hal: "I know this is Gotham, where it's law apparenly that people conduct every important conversation on a rooftop" lol Hal. Why aren't you cool in the normal GL series? :(

Anyway, this series is super good so far. There's a new Captain Marvel? Jesus Hussein I'm out of it. Anyway, the current Super Awesome Team consists of Hal, Green Arrow, Supergirl, the Atom, Flash (Jay), Congorilla/Bill, and the old Starman. Need more.

I'll do the rest when I finish watching Generation Kill.




Guy Garnder became a red lantern, and... I do not own this issue. SOMEONE EXPLAIN THIS TO ME. WHAT DID I MISS? WHY?


Fabulous Funk Machine

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