Give Me a Tuesday

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I’ve never been one for the Holidays.

Especially New Years, Halloween, and St. Paddy’s.

Anytime the normal crowd needs an excuse to get drunk is a night I want to stay in.

I’ve never felt like I’ve needed permission to be me.

Plus, all those days consist of

too many people,

making too many plans.

So much worrying, they forget about the whole reason they’re out.

Not for me.

 

Just give me a Tuesday.

No Expectations

No plans

No possibility of a let down.

Now that sounds like the perfect opportunity.

Words of Wisdom by Billy Pilgrim

It’s painful.

But not the physical kind where you sweat through your grey sweatpants at the gym.

No.

The mental kind, like when you have poison ivy and you think about anything fucking else but the sweet orgasmic relief of slowly ripping the top layer of skin with your nails.

That kind.

I haven’t written a story in over a month. That’s like fucking forever.

This time last year I was pumping out stories like Octomom.

Lately it’s been feeling

hurting

constricting

……Fuck it. You get the idea.

The thoughts come in and I want to “one up” every single one of them like that annoying kid from third grade who always had a cousin that did everything you just said, but better.

Fuck that kid.

And fuck this post.

It sucks.

The next 20 are going to suck too.

Then the next 12.

And finally there will be one good post like this one, which I’ll love but no body will read.

Then 20 more shitty ones.

Oh well.

It’s like my man Vonnegut says:

“…And so it goes”

Welcome to Livin’ in the City

When you first move to the city, you feel sorry for the homeless.

You give what you can, to this person shivering, with blood and puss coming out of their face and think about how your helping.

Then weeks go by,

And the same homeless people are sitting in the same corners.

With the same blood and puss stains.

Leaves fall

Snow hits

And they are in the same spots,

doing the same thing.

Almost like a job.

So you stop feeling bad,yet at the same time,

you start feeling bad, because you don’t feel bad anymore.

You look through these people,

through their eyes,

the sores on the side of their face.

You ignore their questions,

bury your face in your phone.

Then,

after awhile,

you don’t feel anything,

which is worse part of all.

 

Greatest Invention Ever

Every time I use the oven, the smoke alarm goes off.

I’ve tried everything

I’ve taken the batteries out, but then the maintenance man bitches

I’ve moved it to the other side of the kitchen, but then it picks up smoke from the neighbors

I’ve placed a fan towards the vents, only to have the alarm go off.

I guess somethings are meant to be annoying.

The only combatant I have these days is headphones.

Beep Beep

Neighbors pound and shout “WHAT’S GOING ON IN THERE!”

But I only hear Tom Petty running down a dream.

God Bless Bose

Be Honest

Why do you give a shit?

About the eyes,

the words,

the sharp pain of standing out with an opinion.

You’re worried about getting isolated

yet,

you hide inside yourself

day after day

around the people you claim are your friends

who you’ve spent over 20 years with

and

still

aren’t close enough

to have the decency

to drop your fork on the porcelain plate and honestly say:

“Your pot roast is tastes drier than grandma pussy.”

…Why do you give a shit?

36 Weeks

I made it 36 weeks.

36 weeks since I last messaged you.

I know this because you’re a millennial who only uses snapchat to text

It’s like a bomb timer in a Steven Seagal movie, that counts up

to infinity

or 36 weeks.

In that time, I’ve lived in two major US cities

I’ve dated doctors, lawyers, waitresses, Actresses, Economics professors, HR reps

I’ve had one night flings with girls from Brittan, South Africa, and the good ol’ USA

I’ve joined acting classes, bowling leagues, Soccer

I’ve went from having no friends, to more than I see on a regular basis

Despite all that, I got up and for the first time in 36 weeks

I thought of you.

I thought about our last drunken adventure where you kicked some girl out of your apartment

and the creamy vanilla perfume you always wear

and the one time you told me not to kiss you before our date because you just put on makeup, yet I did it anyways

to which you brought up months later as evidence that I was your “soulmate” even though I don’t believe in that.

I thought about all of those times

and how I’m sure you’re doing well wherever you are

with whoever you’re with

and I guess,

I just wanted to say “hi”.

Also,

I have the same pair of boots as you in that pic. #twins