You Saturated Sight, And I Had No More Eyes For Sordid Excellence As Paradise- E.Dickenson

I am just really pissed about everything.

specifically:
-I am pissed Dad couldn't even bother to visit me before or after xmas.
-I am pissed that N would DARE send me an email and right now I wont read it because it's not going to say anything i want it to.
-I am pissed that everyone went away when I needed them not to.
-I am pissed at the lack of emotional intelligence my old friends possessed.
-And now I am pissed that my new friends remind me of my old friends in little ways.


I'm going to bed.

[useless information] lets call it 'interfacing'

So..I finally talked that guy, Adam, that I've had a crush on all summer. The day before xmas Erica had told me a funny story about him [he ruined a wedding cake by jacking up the corner of a table when they were on a job together] and when i saw him walk in today i decided that this information might be a good ice breaker. Oh yes, i did. The conversation went something like:
Me: "you're kates friend adam, right?"
adam: "yea."
me: "oh, ive heard about you"
adam:"really?
me:" ...from erica"
adam: "good things i hope"
me: "well, she told me to keep you away from all my cakes and tables"
adam: "oh great."
and then we both grinned a lot. At some point in the conversation he leaned into me over the counter so closely that i could see all the flecks in his eyes. They're two really, REALLY nice eyes.
anyway, not like anything will come of it, but I feel like a cloud has been.. moved slightly to either the left or right.

Whenever Matty C and I talk, he always faces straight ahead, glancing at me every now and then out of the corner of whichever eye is on my side. I don't know why he wont look at me directly- especially when i obviously adore eveything he has to say. Tia says he's afraid to look at me because he's probably scared to like me.

I don't know.

Unparalleled rage comes to mind.

If i had it over again i'd remind myself that there is in fact, a line between discussion and condescension, which is very big and very real.


[ca·su·ist·ry    ( P )  Pronunciation Key  (kzh--str)
n. pl. ca·sui·ist·ries

1. Specious or excessively subtle reasoning intended to rationalize or mislead.
2. The determination of right and wrong in questions of conduct or conscience by analyzing cases that illustrate general ethical rules

spe·cious    ( P )  Pronunciation Key  (spshs)
adj.

1. Having the ring of truth or plausibility but actually fallacious: a specious argument.


Etymology: From the Latin specissus.

`beautiful, plausible']


Oh N? He's always been a pretty signifigant fuck up.





2

A thicket of razor blades in a garden of thorns.

Lets do this like a prison break- I WANT TO SEE YOU SCREAM AND SHAKE.

I'm listening to Yeah Yeah Yeahs again.


We waste our days and our time on things and people.

Why?

I hate N a lot.

And lately I've come to realize that hating him is actually really very convenient and doesn't waste any of my time. In fact, I think that's the reason why its so easy to hate: because its something that can be done anywhere, anytime, and as much as I want.

At work? No problem! I can list reasons why I should show up to his house and blow his brains out for Christmas while making a sandwich. Whipping up one of those amazingly popular skim milk lattes? I can mentally imagine him sitting in a corner digging the razor blade deeper into his arteries while i steam the milk! That one's a favorite during those 9hr shifts. Another classic one is me taking everything I ever felt for him, and imagining that it's this huge cement block, which I then insert up his ass.

This morning I was supposed to show Matty Cor how to open, but instead I woke up at 7:15 and was a half hour late for work [i was all excited to spend an hour alone with him too.] Five minutes after i got there chef mike arrived and yelled at matt because it was twenty minutes until opening and we were only halfway done. In five minutes i got HALF OF OPENING DONE. but mike didnt know this and wouldnt have been impressed anyway.

As we were rushing around trying to get everything done one of the coffee pots decided tp overflow [mid brewing- the whore] Thankfully matt spotted this and grabed the pot/the thing the filter goes in at the same time and threw both things in the sink to stop the flood, only the filter part missed the sink completely, and wet grounds went all over the counter. Do you know what Matt said as i was wiping it up? he said "This is sarah kate being late, as expressed in coffee grinds." which made me dissolve into giggles.

BR came in today.
He looked pale and hungover.
He tried to avoid me and i tried to avoid him but he needed to be rung out for a cake and contact was unavoidable in the end. I rambled because i was nervious and he half answered while avoiding eye contact. He carries a lot of his pretention in his eye brows.

WHATEVER.

this is a sunday.

([a tribute] to alcoholism)

"that means especially much coming from you" - Chris Morano.

Monday Night.




I want N to die, but will have to settle for something less permanent- and more painful, hopefully.

Mike got in my car today and told me her name is Rachel. Which killed my good day and my good mood and my "two week" status of not crying all in one blow. What kind of a name is Rachel? I'll tell you what kind of name it is, it's the kind of name you give to a dog when you want it to be run over by a fucking truck.

I want it to stop hurting.
Why wont it stop hurting?

I keep flipping through the obituaries but unfortunately I haven't seen N's name yet. So, I've written a letter to God....who listened to me cry and beg each night for this boys happiness, therefore I think God'll be pretty good about granting this request in light of recent events.

Dear God,

Should decide to reincarnate me
please don't make me come back as Nico Miechowski
because I hate him.


Thanks,
X

"PEOPLE EMPTY THEIR GARBAGE OF THOUGHT ALL OVER YOU"--- Bellow


Which i think is just about the most honest thing anyone has bothered to say in a very, very long time.

For the history books:

Over the last week BR and I have been ignoring each others calls/not returning messages.

It actually might be better this way.

"When the mill hands hassled Pete at the Manchester Cafe, he took off his apron, debouched from behind the counter and beat them senseless. --Richard Rhodes


WHY IS THAT SO APPEALING TO ME RIGHT NOW?

Scenes from a volatile relationship.

My first Thanksgiving at Mystic Market

Chef Mike: Hi this is Mike S****** calling from Mystic Market East. *pause* :voice lowers: How large is you turkey?

Once i was able to stop laughing I started to feel badly for the man on the other end of the line who was rung up on his wed night by some guy named Mike who was inquiring about the size of his turkey.

If I could attack with a more sensible approach, obviously that's what I'd be doing, right?



ca·tal·y·sis  (k-tl-ss)
n. pl. ca·tal·y·ses (-sz)

1. Acceleration of a chemical reaction by a substance which itself remains unaffected.

2. (Chem.) A process by which reaction occurs in the presence of certain agents which were formerly believed to exert an influence by mere contact. It is now believed that such reactions are attended with the formation of an intermediate compound or compounds, so that by alternate composition and decomposition the agent is apparenty left unchanged; as, the catalysis of making ether from alcohol by means of sulphuric acid; or catalysis in the action of soluble ferments (as diastase, or ptyalin) on starch.

If I could handle life- these things in life- using a more sensible approach, obviously that's what I'd be doing. But, I'm much too tired for sense: too raw; stressed.



ca·tal·y·sis  (k-tl-ss)
n. pl. ca·tal·y·ses (-sz)

1. Acceleration of a chemical reaction by a substance which itself remains unaffected.

2. (Chem.) A process by which reaction occurs in the presence of certain agents which were formerly believed to exert an influence by mere contact. It is now believed that such reactions are attended with the formation of an intermediate compound or compounds, so that by alternate composition and decomposition the agent is apparenty left unchanged; as, the catalysis of making ether from alcohol by means of sulphuric acid; or catalysis in the action of soluble ferments (as diastase, or ptyalin) on starch.

something to drink to:

My sand castle fantasy just went out with the fucking rip tide.

HOORAH!

Last night N told me he "couldn't be there for me the way I wanted him to be."

Which means he's saying he can't offer me
support,
patience,
understanding,
comfort,
or any of the other basic things of a friendship, a relationship, that I have given him over the last 12 months. But despite this inability to give back to me in any form, he wants me to "still be his bestfriend", and be "happy for him that hes found someone else," be happy that he's "making himself happy."

N says all this while implying that I'm supposed to feel good that he has gotten all this off his chest, but first, before i can do that I need to make it stop hurting. And after the pain stops ripping through my lungs, I'm pretty sure I'm going to call the INS, not be his friend.

Why all these excuses?
Why all these vapid justifications?
Why
Why
Why
Why?

I know why, you fucking coward.

Headline Oct,1, 2004

Three Cosmic Explosions Could Precede Supernovae.

yes, yes they could

Why nothing happened.....

because as we rolled onto our sides i noticed that the couch we were on was made of a plastic like leather.

Pleather?

I opened one eye as BR smothered my neck in kisses and found, on closer inspection, that the couch in question wasn't just pleather but something that seemed to resemble instead a very cheap faux pleather.

I froze and broke out in a small sweat, which went unnoticed to BR who was merrily making his way back up my neck and to my mouth, one kiss at a time.

I could not understand why Charlie's parents (the owners of the couch + house we were in) hadn't at least sprung for quality pleather when they obviously had more than enough money to do so. I am admittedly a fake leather snob, (then again who isn't)? But as far as I knew it was a widely known fact that faux pleather is morally wrong. No matter how much BR kissed me, and despite even my best attempts at refocusing on the task at hand and ignoring this little fact, i could not force my brain to deminish any of its utter horification. It was at that moment that i realized, were anything to happen, i would forever remember it- remember him- as the "pleather couch incident." This was too horrible to even contemplate, and therefore when my phone rang i made up excuses and left on the spot.

*sighs*

Naked thoughts

What am I suppose to describe? Everything is just pretend nowerdays. Pretend worlds and lives of our own creation to fill some void that began inutero.



I think I will entertain wise, filthy and insane suggestions from the crowd now.