Cold.

As I lie here I can see my breath fog the air.My fingertips numb with cold.My roof is buckling and falling in.I may as well be sleeping on the lawn. I don’t know why I am writing tonight.My stomach is hollow and I am tired as hell.

(it killed me not to see you,knowing that my friends were there,that i had put them there,side of stage no less,to see you shine,back where i knew you could and should be but there is a new girl now so its a moot point,she better make you happy,she better be worth it because even though you treat yourself bad i don’t want anyone else taking the same liberty,i always thought that one day you would love yourself as much as i did….i always thought i would be there,by your side.its just not fair but then again,what is? )

Writing is just thinking on the screen, on the page. I’m just talking to myself. As usual.Or my imaginary version of him,the version that didn’t used to twist everything I said.I liked him.He liked me,I know he did,I used to make him laugh his ass off .He was so cool and funny. He didn’t accuse me of fucking his band or my band or his fat driver or anyone and everyone else .He wasn’t crazy.He was my best-est mate.My twin.My other half. ( What did you do with him? He was rad.)

Best kisser in the world.

I miss the kissing so,so,so much.We kissed like Slayer writes riff’s,like Roky can break a heart,like Lemmy plays bass. Perfect.I,(excuse me for a second) Sorry, my eyes swim with tears just writing that.How much I feel the shattering lack of it. He used to come to me,to want to kiss and touch me.Couldn’t keep his hands off me.When it stopped the lights started to grow dim.I commenced dying.

I dream of it still.Him kissing me awake,lips on my neck,eyelids,his weight against me,his eyes wanting me,really seeing me,the way it used to be.Did you know that that was the one time in my life that I truly believed I was beautiful,bullet proof and was going to live happily ever after?

I had your name on my spine,your crosses on my wrists and your ring on my left hand to prove it,goddamn it!

I know right? What was my dumb white-trash ass thinking?

Must have given God a real good laugh.

ha ha ha.

I don’t think about fucking all that much anymore.Its abstract.It’s got nothing to do with me.Porn makes me sad so I don’t watch it and I cant jack off so whats the point? It’s never gonna happen so you have to push it away. I run.I read alot. Sword and combat training. There is nothing like swinging my beloved katana in endless slow and muscle tearing formations with five pound weights gaffed around my wrists for hours,it hypnotizes,it brings visions,it sends my imagination to places and situations that would get me sent to the chair in Florida and the big sleep in Texas.

( i pull her from her car by her hair,i blow her left kneecap out as she tries to get away and watch her scream and bleed,i want,no,i need her to be in agony as she watches me murder her, she is pulling herself backwards ,away from me, i smile and pump one right between her eyes and casually re-holster my piece,a cell phone rings on the passenger seat as she bleeds out on the asphalt like roadkill,your name lights up the screen…..)

I make my shrines,hang with my hot glue gun,practice my scales,dance to Motown,do laundry,buy boots with absurdly high heels,don’t pick up the phone….but every now and then I imagine my lost one and the dirt-hole ( dirt-holes?) that he sticks it to now.

It’s amazing how much agony,real physical agony this can trigger and cause.

It brings me to my knees.

There is no place for me.

I am over-training to a stupid,stupid level.Being cast in this film-clip was just what I needed to kick me into gear again.I am going though voltaren cream like its going out of fashion.Stinky workout gear getting washed and rotated daily. And I am still not where I want to be.Next week is the killer.Twice a day and the most boring diet you can imagine.I am lopsided from dragging my gym bag everywhere.Yawn.

I was once.Where I wanted to be,that is.

In California.

Oh well.

The last week was the worst of my life. I tuned out completely.Self preservation.Gee! I have not heard from my few friends this week…Oh! That’s right! I got traded in. Should I do my surprised face? Nah.Why waste the effort? I am not that cool right? How silly of me to forget.

Me? Well,I am a 100% kinda girl you could say and if you know me? Well then,you were warned..I am not into doing things by half measure. If I am on your side I am there forever but cut me…..Juvenile? I have heard it called that but I prefer staunch.

I think about the shit that has tried to break me…..

I was in a really cool band once.It was my 1st and the one that got me out there.The rhythm section were my bro’s. The lead guitarist was an alcoholic and a two faced cunt. There goes the band. Bye-Bye.I see him on the street sometimes with his bubble headed kraut wife who cant understand why I wont talk to them. He can’t meet my eye.Dip-shits.I remember him drunk at some festival in Germany saying that the worst thing he could imagine was fucking up the band….He sucks corporate cock writing advertising jingles now.Karma.

Winner.

I was young, dunno, seventeen? My father had finally left my mother for another in his long line of sub par whores. She,my shattered mother, needed me more than he did so I called the shot. He raised me like a son,what did he expect? He was a prick.I remember when I tried clean up my act he told me how “Weak” I was for not getting loaded anymore,that I couldn’t handle it. When was the 1st time I heard that? hmmm? Must have been all of fourteen. Classy dude my old man, a real hero..AK-47 next to the dope plants.So he was shacked up with some fat hooker.I called him up at some stupid hour of the morning.

“I am gonna kill her and make you watch” I said softly down the long distance line.

Last time I spoke to him he offered me a good deal on some ecstasy’s.Me the dealer? Gimme a fucking break..Daughter of a dealer.Woooo! Big man on campus.Big fucking deal.Whatever,I’m guessing that has got to be over ten years ago now. I never spoke to him again.

It’s not that I am a bad person per say.I just don’t need shit in my life. I mean does anyone? Last I heard dear old dad was living in a tent under some-one’s house.

Winner.

I think the problem is that people all too caviler with my heart.What I am saying is that people suck.

I am so picky with whom I love. Four relationships in my life.I don’t take it lightly and I stay faithful to history.I was farmed out at birth and I think that I have always been aware of the frailty of love.How easily it can be taken away. I have trust issues up the yang.My biggest problem was some kind of twisted revenge. I thought that if I was the best at something,anything that everyone would want to know me,be my friend and then I could be the one to say no.To not let anyone near me. That instead of being thrown away and discarded I could make people feel how it felt to be denied.

And that Charlie Brown,is how I ended up becoming a musician.Thank fuck it worked out that I can hold a tune.

So there was I was .Little Miss Hard ass. Little Henry Rollins wanna-be. All wife-beaters,Stetson hats and hairy pits.Oh Lord! And that voice.I still can’t believe that that noise comes out of me. I made myself ugly.I knew exactly what I was doing. I ran with wolves. I became the alpha my dear old drug addled dad said I could never be.Fuck you old man. I was more of a fucking man than you ever were.I was a fucking cowboy. I made it so. It was a great shit filter.Kept the weak away. Oh God,you gotta belived me when I tell you that I loved,loved,loved being feared.That their fear and utter disgust fed me,got me high as a kite.That was the real power.The look of horror on their faces.The unchecked violence of helming that sonic machine and destroying everything that got in my way.

Then I met him..he saw the  heart that I had buried. I know ’cause I saw his too…..

I am a useless romantic.Not hopeless,useless. Let’s get this straight,I left.I left because I couldn’t stay. I was not wanted or treasured anymore. Why would you stay? Going nearly killed me.Most days its still trying to kill me. I am still hooked. ( i’ll carry all my works on the off chance that i see you…)It will never go away. But I am not going down again. I will die alone married to my beautiful memories thank you very much.

(nice blond side of stage in brisbane by the way.)

Have nine whole songs written now.Its exciting for me putting this together as I have written the music as well.First time on that front.I have been fishing for my dream players and astoundingly they want to work with me as well.I am flabbergasted.I am grateful. I don’t know if the show is going to be a one off.I am thinking that it is because I am stealing people from other bands.Don’t know if I could do the band thing full time again at this point to tell the truth.

I find it easier to be in my own company.

Playing and writing though,its nice.I have my bass plugged in all the time and my amp on standby. Its the most I have played in my life. My neighbours must hate me.I have a guitar in the toilet as well.The acoustics are royal and your sitting down anyway right? Need to buy a new guitar soon,or not .I may just keep miking up my old shit-kicker.For some reason we sound good together.

(you deserve a hell of allot more than the toe rag and the faceless pickups you are settling for and that’s nothing but  a stone cold fact, your life is so tiring,so much chaos,i wanted to give you peace,you should think more of yourself,start to unravel the pain and history that you allow to hold you back,the shit that holds you under,you are and shall remain the most amazing person i ever knew,if you had of believed me,had believed in me the world would have been ours…..)

Blackie booked me on another one of his shows in August. I am lucky.For want of a better word.

Other words? Well,don’t mind if I do……

Sad,heartbroken,alone,tired,haunted,angry,grieving,pissed off,celibate,staunch,suicidal,sleepless,melancholy,homicidal,whip-smart,betrayed……

but lucky?

Go figure.