shakin rachel syndrome

today is day ten. . . i didn't think i'd make it this far, and be this happy. and maybe i'm kidding myself, but if that is the tragic fortuity. i think i'm okay with that too. i spoke with a dear friend last night whom always seems to rip the rose colored glasses from my face with a grace and wit that is all her own, and we decided that engaging in the ordinary, common, natural, orthodox, typical, routine, COMPOS MENTIS. . . is just simply frightening. it's an alcoholic attempting temperance. so i sit. drumming my fingers, my legs shaking, the beads of sweat forming on my forehead threatening to tell all of my secrets. so scared that he will notice. . . frightened even more that he won't. maybe he doesn't understand that i need a glass of melodramatic agony followed by a couple of shots of wicked hurt. . . and i'll sit at this table with you as long as you want darlin'. i think more than that. . . in his own unknown way, he understood that i needed a hand up. i hope someday he will fully know the impression left on my soul from the happenstance of our collision.

i'm so glad i have friends that help me remember. what's that well-worn saying about friends? they are angels that help you to remember to fly when you have forgotten?? something of that sort. thankfully, my friends help me remember nose touches, swimming (swimming, swimming, swimming, swimming), and being scared is good because it means that you are still alive. who would have ever thought that we would never be younger than we are today. . .

the waiting place

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked. A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? How much can you lose? How much can you win? And IF you go in, should you turn left or right…or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite? Or go around back and sneak in from behind? Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find, for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind. You can get so confused that you’ll start in to racedown long wiggled roads at a break-necking paceand grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, headed, I fear, toward a most useless place. The Waiting Place……for people just waiting. Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or a No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting. Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a sting of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting.


I wish i had answers. . . or just a hint. A small TEENY TINY one would be just fine with me. I hate this place. I think I've been here for five years or maybe longer. . . I just remember the last five years of being here, sitting on the same damn bench watching people come and go. Ugh.

me and the fray

i have obsessive affairs with certain singers and bands. today its the fray. forgive the urgency but hurry up and wait. . . my heart has started to separate.



i stumbled across a slap in the face yesterday. i ran across something that i once treasured and cherised as meant only for me was plastered all over something else for someone else. ouch ouch ouch. i hadn't thought about particularly this person or that piece of our relationship for quite sometime. but i guess i should be honored. my memory lives on in some sort of twisty tied way. hope she enjoys it. and him.



"it's a paradox of such epic proportions i may never understand why anyone would ever bother to endeavor to make justified the columns of the right now and what's left forever underneath the layers of a heart that's partly me and partly you. i am partly you."



i'm not really one to lament over lost loves, but i think everyone misses SOMEONE. it's undoubtably over and everyone has moved on from that which ceases to exist. but the ghosts still haunt. mine come in forms of designer cologne.

damnit.