[Listening to “The Best of Buddy Guy” late with a messed up head.]

I wasted time and now time doth waste me.
-Shakespeare, Richard the second.

People only see what they are prepared to see.
-Emerson 1863

The damp of the night drives deeper into my soul.
-Walt Whitman.

Sacrifice not thy heart upon every altar.
-Thomas Fuller

You don’t learn to hold your own in the world by standing on guard, but by attacking and getting well hammered yourself.
-George Bernard Shaw.1911.

I am a fool for it you know.
An utter martyr on it.
[Burn witch burn….]
Life, love and the eternal list that consumes me.

I break myself for my heroes, [My very few friends and even smaller amounts of family.] the ones that I want to view me if only for a second the way that I view them and I am getting to think that it is a kind of sickness, that there is something wrong with me and I know that that is why I have avoided love almost my entire life.

Because in love? In love I will do anything

Nothing tears me a fresh one as hard as wasted potential and I can fuckin pick em.

And in return it has cost me everything.
I will cut my tainted heart out before you and lay it at your feet for approval.
I am so damaged that I think that if you could love me back…? Could you? Would you???

HA!
Says the true voice inside me. “Asshole” echoes round and round in my skull, a sick refrain.

[The sin is/that you are everything that you hate/you hate/you hate/Ad lib to fade cunt.]

And its there where I have no quarter and am too quick to tears.
… Tired.

With a Renaissance man friend, he woozy with beer in a Greek cantina, me on a contact high due to the swashbuckling glory of his company and fumes alone. I tell him that I am going to have to get back to what I know.
He has seen me there and knows what it involves. What it does to me.
And he tells me that it doesn’t have to be that dialectic, that it doesn’t have to come from what I know or have known and I snap like a dog, like a child as I don’t know where the hell else it is ment to come from

You see my life was small and correct; Corrupt and red hued, utterly criminal and scum riddled and I loved it. It didn’t bother to love me back but and it was mine. It was all that I knew. It knew me and there within lies the comfort and the cancer.

To put the record straight I hate who I have become. The person that has been dwelling in me since mid 04′ it feels like. I want to cut her face off and feed it to the black dog on my trail.” There is a reason,” I tell myself “A reason that I have come to this point” I need all the ju-ju that I can muster to divine what it is. I see flashes mama, I got a storm brewing.

This friend. Ah! They save you by small measure and bitter truth via poison don’t they? There was no sugar to make it go down. I have fed myself so much sachirinne bullshit of late that I fear that I have become emotionally diabetic.

Saint to none
Unsaveable sister.

[A cautionary tale of Love getting the upper hand also known as “Love!” staring Shiva the destroyer as “Love”, watch it at your own peril! the thrills! The blah blah blah…]

I think about her still you know, my sister. I remember how everyone told me that she was nothing but a drug-addled vampire and that there was no good intent within her. But I refused. I refused to believe it. In a way I think that she was my last great love. I told people “You don’t know her like I do, you’ll see…”

Problem was that they saw all along and I wanted to be there, to let her know that I wouldn’t give up on her like so many had given up on me

I was a fool

Beauty owns a cruelty that desires much of the same. She didn’t want that from me, the goodness, the eternal cheerleader. She wanted me to be a cunt and I loved her so much that I couldn’t do it. She saw me do it to the world at large and then she branded me a fake. No, Just in love with you.

I tried to give you my best when all you wanted was me to shit on you just like all the men that you attracted then deflected.

I used to laugh when monkey would say that I was the perfect boyfriend in a girl’s body. But she was right and that’s how my own sister treated me in the end.

[Ah monkey, back to Brazil, How the hell have the last 3 years gone so fast? As I tap away in Hamburg tonite Josh Homme and crew are singing to me and we will always have the Queens and the Saga honey, no matter how far apart…. be safe….]

I know now that it is true that nice guys finish last.

I am so tired and confused and I am not sure what I am trying to say.

Just came in with guns blazing all these emotions and ideas bouncing around in my head almost determined to hurt me. It’s a pretty unnatural situation for four adults to find themselves in. I am sorted as of tomorrow and after that I am just going to take it one day at a time, just like getting clean again.
I held one of Lottas cigarettes while we were sitting outside “The old sailor” drinking this afternoon. [Them? Beer. Me? Sprite.]
Clean Me.
Never thought that I would look wrong with a smoke in my hand. As the grey sky opened I knew…. It doesn’t look right anymore and I want to shed the last of my life like a snake. Then, I figure, all these learned behaviours that do me such regular and abundant harm would look as alien to me as holding a beer does. A cigarette, a syringe…that was then…and this is? I know that it is not “then” and that is enough tonite.

One can only try.

Feel like I am beating myself to a slow graceless end against a dirty glass cealing that I made myself, constructed of little more than fear, spit and grief.

Gotta do what I gotta do.

It’s the leaving that kills me. I just up and lose people all the time. Having them die is easier in a way as sick as that sounds.

Ah! That’s where we were at.” Why I am a retard who can’t figure out how to love correctly”

Better not to I think. This friend, he knows me when I cant be bothered to know myself if you know what I mean. He said that it all goes pear shaped for me when someone turns out not to be as great as I believed them to be and then I want to kill them. It stings and makes me wince because he is correct.

110% proof. Bitter to the last sticky drop.

He says that I invest too much. I am a crappy banker of the heart. And I hate that he is right but who wants to find out who UN great any object of their affection truly is?

I want them all to be as great as I think they are. I count on it.

This friend. He takes a long cool draught of his beer and maintains eye contact with me. My eyes mist and drain like the stein in his hand. Feeling as dark as the sky that covers us.

Am I ever going to get this shit right?

Who gives a fuck? The only one I love is on the other side of the planet so I am going to think and wish for the best and get my shit together here before I go completely mad. I am not far off it. I don’t think that any of us ever really are.

Can’t decide if that bites it or not. Ask me tomorrow.

SF4L
Michele.