I’ve had it.

Since some recent shit has been flung onto my blog do to my use of the 1st amendment, I am here to for censoring myself and others from the discussion of politics on my wordpress site.

I am ready.

When I finish my big ass book of African history… I get a new tattoo! Ha!

once again

Hot sand between my toes turns to wet cold mud.  The sun burning at my back receeds behind a looming blanket of stone gray clouds.  The wind kicks up bitter and sharp.  The night surrounds me. Darkness has fallen before dinner, before the water boils even.  Schedules pile up around me. I find myself lashed to a speeding train, watching the green grass and ripe fruit get smaller and smaller.  I wake before the sun, I work before the sun, and I linger long after she has left.  I see dresses turn to jeans, tank tops to sweaters.  I see porches empty and longing.  I feel the cold creep from inside of me, falling to the ground like a vomitus fog, like snakes sliding into every crack and hole and I feel a familiar set of hands grasping my shoulders. I hold my breath and begin to count, and scream.

Rain falls,

Good, bad, intintional, apathetic, people do things for so many reasons.  Usually no matter how noble or heinous the deed you can find the reason.  But why would someone make a shitty movie?  Why? There’s no money in it.  There’s no glory in it.  What a waste.

Don’t ever watch the international.

GOD I HATE WORK!!!!!

I mean that’s all really. I want to sleep in. I want to take my kids to school. I want to pick them up. I want to massage people. I don’t want to get up at six and bust my ass for nine large an hour. FML.

Broke into the old apartment, buh nuh.

My key still worked.  My pulse went up slightly.  I knew they had started construction, but I was not aware of how far they would take it.  I walked down the hall to the 4th apartment. The little welcome sign emily had made more than two years ago was still stuck under the peep hole.  I pushed my key to the lock and the door eased open with no effort.  I knew not to expect my last memory.  I knew it wouldn’t be clean, furnished, decorated, or resemble itself in any way.  Even still it was shocking to see the bar ripped up and all the cabinets gone.  Even more shocking was the lack of floor or ceiling in the bathroom. It was just a brick lined shaft from the basement to the roof.    Melancholy sort of floated up from my stomach to my head.  This wasn’t the first time I’d had this feeling.  I broke into my grandmother’s house the day of her funeral.  It was all gutted and cold.  It had leaves and rain water in the floor.  It was a horribly traumatizing.  The most warm and comforting place in my history was now cold and sharp and broken and destined to be pushed into a hole in the ground.  I curled into a ball and cried almost as hard as a human could.

This wasn’t traumatizing. It was familiar, surreal, sort of like two movies trying to play at once.  I was stairing at the hole in the floor where the tub used to be and I could hear my kids protesting the inevitable scrub.  I could feel the water with my fingers.  I wasn’t very sad.  That apartment has a lot more painful memories than nice ones.  A lot of disillusionment took place in that apartment.  I expirienced the fragilityof community, marriage, friendship, employment, life in general, all while I was living there.  I don’t miss living there.  I don’t miss that time in my life.  Be that as it may, the feeling swimming around in my head bore a strange resemblance to the one I felt two years ago in the raped shell of my childhood home.  I’ve been going on in my head over and over with it.  It’s like I can feel the world around me dying, turning to rubish.  But it doesn’t end there.  I can also feel the inevitability of something after rubish.  I saw the field where my grandmother’s house used to be.  It flourishes. Land that hasn’t been farmed in a hundred years, it really produces well.  That apartment in shambles will be restored. I live in a place I love now.  It isn’t and entirely positive or negative feeling.  I feel strongly connected to inevitability, to an unstopable force that destroys and creates in and endless cycle that doesn’t slow or stop or speed up or vary in any was to any degree.  Whenever I try to express it I get so fogged up. I just end up staring into space and thinking about oblivion.  well thats it.

My new home defense plan.

this is how you spell Kompromise

It won’t go off if my kid finds it, I can’t accidentally blow my wee off with it,, but it will work a lot better than my skills of diplomacy in diffusing a situation.