dammit to hell

as i twat on Twitter not half an hour ago, 'motherFUCKer! *in a Ving Rhames voice* from Pulp Fiction' cause i'm entertaining waaaay-the-fuck negative thinking ATM (LOL, what else is new?), so like i said a bit after, 'time to get high' in Twitter's hashmark'd tag-tawk = #time2gethigh.

moving right along, the other day i forgot to say that if you look on Talia's shoulder in the belated Hallowe'en photo (she's dressed as a cross between me *preens* and Morticia *face-palm*), you'll see Pepper (or Minty) — they're her cute liddle rats and i always geddem mixed up, so sorry, Pepper (or Minty) for not recognising exactly who you are. if it makes y'all feel better, then youse should know i do that with people as well. a LOT.

anyhoo, to balance out above negativity (a euphemism if i've ever used one), i took the next photo on wednesday, capturing the hallucinations dancing in my head and somehow projecting em through the aether to my phone prolly thanks to two days of no sleep and a hefty dose of MDMA my superpowers. :-)


in my always-lucid opinion, the one who appears to be standing on the building is an embodiment of Sod cause he's been fucking with me mercilessly ever since TPFKAPM rang with appalling news, stuff i've not yet mentioned cause i haven't yet found the words without cursing him (TPFKAPM not Sod) out but if he (Sod not TPFKAPM) gets his way, next saturday i'll be travelling alone — 'the horror, the horror' — at fuck o' clock in the morning.

now i wouldn't mind the travelling so much if i'd ever gone the route before but i haven't — not alone — and it means Strange Meatspace on both a train and a fucking goddamned coach — a thought that strikes both disgust and fear into my already odiousified head. i was thinking 'at least i have V.s' but the thing of it is, i'll be too tired to take em cause they'll put me to sleep and i'll miss my stop(s). bah... the fun never ends the mind reels (and not in the way i like).

i'll be back... um... i dunno. in all truth, i shouldn't even be here now but i'm putting off making a cigarettes run cause it's only 4C outside and i'm so not in the mood to freeze my ass off so i just won't think about it till i'm down to my last cig and i'm forced the fuck out. i've got some great photos though — the lovely Sarah sent me those skulls i mentioned last post. *cough* WANT!




they rest in the peace of the coffin standing in Mr and Mrs Ifor The Engine's livingroom when they should be mine they should be mine they should be mine, Mine, MINE well, they should, dammit and the coffin as well. *sigh*

ps, get well ASAP, Angie. :-) —> that's a sincere, though forced, smiley cause i sure as shit don't feel like smiling but then again, simultaneously, i sure as shit hope you feel better and fast.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

belated Hallowe'en

one day in future i might wanna remember i actually knew know knew these people once upon a time if i live that long and i hope i don't, but anyway.


and every picture tells a story, don't it? *evil* here's Mrs Ifor The Engine:


Sarah wrote '...We had such a good night at the Troxy watching the Urban Voodoo Machine, got in at 5am ... Before we went in, I wanted to put eyeliner on Rich, but of course he said "no", anyway when we got to the door, the guy wouldn't let Rich and 2 of our friends in cos they weren't "looking outrageous enough", a bit pretentious I know, but it gave me the excuse to "make up" Rich and I think he was quite cool with it...'


yup, i agree. then she said, '... As you can see, Rich really went to town last night!!!'



please notice the coffin which should be mine to his right, standing proudly in their livingroom. *sigh* first i heard it showcased their glassware and now i hear it has two skulls in it which i'm dying to have see. hmmpf! anyway, next pic's Sarah and Clair.

The Grrls from Hell? She-Demons? dominatrixes? dominatrixi? no time to look it up, so whatever... anyway, all three of em were kind enough to come all the way out here a day or two after my birthday and what a shocker that was. actually, i dunno if seeing Rich all green shocks me more than they did that day, but thinking about it makes my head hurt more. so i won't. :-)

i've got other Hallowe'en pics sent me by some-a my friends but no time to post em and i don't dig those people that much anyway, so no great loss. yow! quiet bit out loud again... fuck it. i'm sorry — y'all know what a liar i am so just add this to the pile of bullshit i've been feeding youse ever since i metchas. no, really. :-)

i'm running outta time cause i've gotta go out soon but here's Darren and Tina's daughter Talia. as with the Engines, The Lazy Fambly were nice enough to come out and visit me in july and i guess i made an impression on Talia poor Darren! poor Tina! cause i think i remember (can't find his mail now or maybe he told me on the phone) Darren said that Talia went as a cross between me and Morticia.


if you click on the above and open in a new tab, it'll embiggen so yiz can see the long red wig she had on to cover her long blond hair. i actually haven't the words, apart to say 'Talia, i'm honored'. :-)

what did i, myself, do on Hallowe'en? well, my normal life is scarey enough so i decided to stay home and play around with Frankenstein's dildo.


i'll only say 'the stitches were amazing' and leave it at that. *giggle*

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

mentally illtown

at this point in time, i'm playing around with the notion of quitting the constant self-medication (and the damn drinking) but i'm thinking it's quite similar to the old adage of cutting off my nose to spite my face cause it's against my better judgment as well as my belief that timing is everything. a lifetime of near-misses and synchronicities (rather than coincidences) have left me with an intense belief system, firmly rooted in place with the help of my old friends Denial and Avoision and it all results in a stubborn personal fixation: thinking that to maintain the me of me, i should just let things go the way they've been, same as they ever were.

example: TPFKAPM rang me last week it wasn't good news. as i listened i could feel my Anxiety Gland swell up and my heart pumping faster and the second we got off the phone, i popped a coupla V.s, poured myself a hugeass cVcV and loaded my pipe. *thwooop!* then i felt like singing 'I feel good!' *in a James Brown voice* but i didn't. and naturally, the entire thing didn't last long — it never lasts long.


anyway, these days i've been way too conscious of the agony of existence, all made horrendously clear in living color, as the seconds drip into minutes and the resulting hours melt into days of typical gloom and doom. apart from the phonecall, i might be panicking for nothing; it could be a result, a late-coming side-effect of last month's horror of being an alien in NYC — dunno, don't care and i'm not feeling too good ATM to waste time tryna figure it out.


and then, there're those goddamned headaches. i quit moaning about em some time ago but the biggest bitch is my total awareity that at any moment, that which feels like a spike might make its merry way further in and pounding down through the top of my skull, into what's left of my brain and do some real damage. naturally, this always happens at inopportune times, like when i'm alone and at work here or just alone watching films or worst of all, when i'm with friends and really have to hide the pain or else, moan my ass off (they don't call me ri-moan for nothing). when i'm alone watching films or whatever, i immediately stop and begin writing whilst popping more V.s and drinking more and believe you me, the results... well, they ain't pretty.

like, if anyone were to read the stuff i've written when in pain, they'd prolly call the nearest looney bin, so fraught with suicidal ideation and shit are the asinine ideas that occur. so tonight, having reached the threshhold of my worstest pain yet, i actually went over to the phone to ring a taxi to take me to, um... A&E? whatever it is they call the Emergency Room at Bristol Royal Infirmary.

and then i remembered the last time i did and the nothing which followed the fright they needlessly introduced. and that was like almost three years ago. and after all this time, i still believe that BRI won't be able to help me as they didn't the last time. y'know, despite all the attention-whoring, i don't give a flying fuck when regular people ignore me but when professionals ignore my excruciating agony, it doesn't sit too well with me. i wasn't exactly ignored but they wouldn't give me that goddamned brain scan i still believe i need. now i'm thinking of this story i heard (told me from a very reliable source — ex-Stress Counsellor dude); the story about this guy in town here who had similar pain to mine and how the NHS didn't give him an MRI for whatever reason. and then he dropped dead (brain tumour) a few months later. lovely. bah...

the thing of it is, reaching the last resort — being practically straight (and the awareity that comes with it) — will make it way more difficult to use my best friend fave ego defence mechanism, Denial, always made much stronger by enabling my Avoision Gland. but lately, the piercing pain drove me to realise i was entertaining really negative thinking... hah! more negative than 'normal' — whatever the hell that is — the 'suicidal ideation' stuff. hmmpf... when i feel like that i've got two choices: doing a header off the balcony or taking a shitload of Valium. no, three choices: just sitting around waiting for the pain to quit. and being born with a teenytiny Patience Gland makes any waiting much worse. *mirthless laughter*

anyway, this truly fucked thinking made me realise it's time to break down and bite the bullet: show up at the nearest medical facility, although every time i did before, it was all time wasted cause i've been rejected by the PTB due to my blood enzyme levels which haven't yet reached those which warrant a free NHS MRI, sump'n i've wanted since i'd Googled my symptoms from the very start (april 07), when the headaches or (as i put it cause it feels that way) cutlass driving into my skull began.

looking on the bright side *snigger* it's not as bad as the longass daily attacks i put up with for the first year or so. now, instead of having em every day (sometimes more than once), i get em like maybe twice a week, sometimes even less frequently and sometimes, if i'm lucky, i get the damn things maybe four or five times a month.

hmmm... just remembered i'm in a somewhat civilised country where they actually sell codeine-laced stuff over the counter and give people morphine when they're in severe pain. oh wow — sump'n to hope for. *giggle*


yes, i know — *grumble* BTW, just as i was reaching for the phone to call BRI's Emergency Room, the damn thing rang and the dude on the other end actually entertained me for just about an hour or so. then, the second we hung up, the spike continued on its merry way down, down, deeper down but not 'to the comfort of the old narcolepsy...' i fucking wish. |-(

edit @23,35: today would've been Daddy's 96th birthday. *shudder* after 13 years, i still miss him. just sayin'.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

for Danny (w/apologies)

editor's note: WHOA, did i fuck up: i first hit 'publish' like hours ago but after rereading, decided to expand upon what i mentally labelled only adequate writty. still is, actually, but there're details of other stuff when the ADD took me on a long stroll down Memory Lane but back and forthly between there and my current flavor of feared and very much-loathed reality (the one in which i'm sittin here working) so i quit working and promptly fell asleep. anyway, i'm reposting this properly cause recalling the details i edited in the second, third, sixth and 20th times somewhat negate the anhedonia and i've always been a 'whatever works' kinda grrl. :-)

*trumpet fanfare* headline: this's this was a Work In Progress (republished fuck-knows-how-many times during the last six hours or so as i fixed the formatting and kept on adding content and shit). OK, i started off fine the first time when it was all about Danny, a bit about Gemma and their desire to be on Tawdry again (sans their photos) after they decorated my 'Take Drugs' card with a lovely variety of extralegals. that was before i got sidetracked, of course, totally thanks to ADD with details brought to you by the syndrome named for Hans Asperger. anyhoo, the first edition was actually alright and began thusly:

this public service announcement was forced upon me strongly suggested by Danny and Gemma (mostly Danny) as they inspected the bulletin boards and magnet board in the kitchen, then simultaneously noticed the 'Take Drugs' card i took from this Techno Acid-House Drums and Bass club in Edinburgh — i think it specialised in that kinda music but positive of one thing only: i got the card in Scotland.

it was Chris, Sir Nomad, Alma Tender Love and me back in may '05, in the midst of The Outlaw Tour. it started off with a bang for us — Chris and i trained it over to Cardiff and immediately found Orlando outside The Coal Exchange. he invited us to accompany him checking out pubs looking for the rest of the band (like we were really gunna say 'no') and as usual, i tawked his head off (but to his credit, he didn't seem to mind). then, for the way unexpected finale or whatever, Chris and i bopped in — through the front doors of the venue — with The Spirit of Love.


when i wrote about it the following day on Dateline: Bristol, i said sump'n like 'street credit rising... riiisINNG... SOARING!' why? cause it was; i mean, casually sauntering into the gig with The Spirit had all eyes upon us and i was preening my ass off but not overtly cause i'ze way too cool for that kinda shit. then Orlando took us to the bar and excused hisself after i hissed to Chris sump'n like 'OMG — there's Jake!'

this was the first time we'd seen him since San Francisco back in november 2000 (seen him close enough to talk to, that is). then came the reunion, like: after i spotted him at the end of the bar, i pretty much dragged pulled a very reluctant Chris along with me as i snuck up behind him and repeatedly and rather rudely poked him on the shoulder to get him to turn around.

when he finally did (after my 3rd or 4th insistent poke) he checked us out briefly, then instantly roared 'YOU MADE IT!' and kissed and hugged the botha us (not sure but i think i remember Chris like flinching and cringing but ultimately submitting to Jake's very warm Glaswegian kinda welcome). then, thanks to Jake's questions, Chris gave him a liddle rundown of how and when we'd split the States (whilst i went outta my mind doing happy grrl dances behind Jake's back). then Chris explained why he'd been so busy at work in DE that it took us over two years to see the band until april '03, at United Against Racism (Manc) and then Summer Sundae (Leicester) and Christmas '03 in Brighton and London but as he told Jake, there was no way to get close enough to tawk to him before that very minute in Cardiff.

then he asked us how long we'd been living in England which gave us me a chance to tell him only some of the remarkable series of whatevers which ended us up in Bristol. y'all know the story — it's the 'Saved By The Virtual Bell' one, the one fraught with Fate and Timing and Coincidences (and flashes of ESP or whatever other type of possible precognition). i'm putting it that way cause one example's when Chris booked his one-way flight back to US in november '03. right before he clicked to pay, he noticed a special offer: for 20€ more, one could get a roundtrip — or 'return' as Brits and the EU put it — back to DE after warning me he wasn't gonna use it but for only 20€ and since we sadly assumed all was totally lost he went 'fuck it' — just as i called out 'go for it'.

fun-fact: *whispers* it's the same story which found me talking to The Kindly Ones, as Neil Gaiman calls em in Sandman — hah! i could go off on another ADD-addled tangent now but i'll exercise some badly needed self-restraint and won't cause i'm so off the original track already — sorry, Danny — RLY.

back to me and The Kindly Ones, this happened after i'd losted it and in the kinda desperation endured by the very depressed, especially those who have nothing to lose. so glancing out the window and seeing the Moon that night, i had a word or three with The Nice Ladies. teh funny: the very next night, that firm in Bristol rang and offered C an interview, one he wouldn't have considered if he hadn't already booked a return. yeah, i know: it totally means nothing since it's only another a coincidence.

shit! stuck in Memory Lane... more VGIs (Very Good Indicators) i'm in OldLadyland, dammit. anyway, the Outlaw Tour in Spring '05 was a really good time for me. i mean, it was just three months after Hunter S Thompson left the building *sigh* and two months after Peter did as well *sob* *double sigh* and i'd been very, very depressed though Hunter had come to live with us by then.

anyway, i thought the album was totally teh suck as well as a crushing disappointment but that wasn't gonna stop us from seeing the band as much as we could. and it was Zoe Devlin's big intro onstage on tour so we hardcore Converted weren't surprised when, thanks to an injection the introduction of the cutest, most talented arm-candy EVar into the motley mix of degenerate pervs the band, the unbeatable combination of Devlin plus the paean to the recently deceased Johnny Cash brought a slew of new fans, mostly young kids, the majority of whom were of the violent, mindlessly drunk ilk who thought nothing of pushing and shoving people away so they could get to the front of the stage where they acted like total assholes got all riled up seeing the Alabama 3 for their very first time.

i'm sooo off-topic, it isn't funny, actually. soz Danny, but you're gonna have to wait a bit more. now where was i? right, the Outlaw Tour and how easy-peasey it was to separate those who weren't yet Converted from the actual Congregation. in truth it was hilarious to watch cause if i remember rightly, we thought we'd just about bust a gut laughing cause in Cardiff, Manc and Bristol, after the band did the obligatory three or four tunes off the newly-released Outyawn Outlaw, a sample of tracks which included 'Hello, I'm Johnny Cash', the tune which brought the band under the radar of the n00bs, the rubes, the chicks in pink feathery, glittery cowboy hats and all the chavvy dudes in imitation Stetsons worn with wifebeaters — i kid you not; whether chicks or guys, they wore what they wore in all seriousity and Brits or not, they totally missed the irony, but i digress.

thing of it is, what made us actually ROTFLOurAO happened at every gig when the Outlaw tunes were thankfully over and the band launched into classics like Hypo Full Of Love and Mao Tse Tsung Says. Alma and i looked around and the expressions on the faces of all these kids — new fans or whatever — just about killed us cause they had no fucking idea what was going on, onstage, Not. One. Damn. Clue. what? music about politics? and drugs? 'Was that Jim Jones?' 'Did they say "Socialism?"...' 'What's this "Raise your left arm" shit about, then? Why not my right?'

LMAO just remembering the looks on their faces as the band played our faves offa Exile, La Peste and Power In The Blood and the majority of each audience cheered our asses off but those poor previously nasty, way-too-pushy drunken kids were immediately outta their element which gave Alma and i the chance to get up to the frontlines — where we belonged — and then dance our asses off like at pre-Outlaw gigs. ahhhh... the Bristol gig was the bestest of the Tour, of course, not leastly cause at one point, Jake — as D Wayne — waved to Nomad from the stage and said sump'n about the Bristol Posse or Scottish Crew or whatever it was he called us it. me and Alma preened. i think i recall Sandy and Chris appearing quite pleased but i couldn't say for sure cause i just don't remember and they're both so naturally laid back anyway.

back to my opinion of Outlaw, remember Larry Flynt's 'Opinions are like assholes. Everybody has one' — i'm reminding yiz here in a gesture meaning 'hey! no biggie — "It's just your my opinion, man"...' cause like anyone else's, it'd ideally be taken from whom it comes: in this case, a (still) deranged, formerly rabid Alabama 3 fanboy like i used to be (your mileage may vary). but in truth IMO, Outlaw has its moments. my total fave's 'Adrenaline' with which i immediately fell in love upon first hearing, especially D Wayne's scat singing style. *sigh* and there's the first 32 seconds of 'Let It Slide' as well as the bit from 3,04 —> 3,09 and where he comes in at 4,13 to the end.

in all actuallity, i totally love the lyrics to 'Let It Slide' (i just don't dig the arrangement cause it's not Rock & Roll or Punk enough for me). though i do love the bits stoled offa when they quote 'Gimme Shelter' — y'know: the female 'oohs' in the background. hmm... and apart from 'Adrenaline', the only other track i love is 'Minesweeping' but that shit's available only as the B-side of the single, 'Hello, I'm Johnny Cash' (and i think it's on Outlaw Remixes as well but i'm not sure even though i have it in my iTunes grouped with the rest of em). Minesweeping as the B-side of 'HIJC' pissed me off muchly though it's none-a my biz cause as a poverty-stricken compleatist, i hadda have it and so, goddit My Way and let's leave it like that. :-)

moving right al- oh WOW — it's Zoe Devlin Love. *cough* mmmmm... Devlin... ghlurghlll droool... *in a Homer voice*


fun-fact: Zoe's got the Bump of Love (read her message at prior link) so due to her condition, she won't be appearing on the Tour Upcoming. in other news, here's Aurora Dawn:


a lovely talented chick, someone i met one Summer evening in the Garden of Albert (last year? the year before?) and with whom i had a very intristin' chat. she's gonna step up for Zoe on the Tour and all i can say is HOORAH! not that i won't miss Zoe but as i told Aurora that night after i virtually kissed the hem of her garment and washed her feet with my hair when i learnt it was she who was singing on 'Minesweeping': 'i so wanna see you onstage, doing your stuff'. and now she shall be and we're ALL gonna see her. i'm so hoping they do 'Minesweeping' a tune which, if i were in charge, would've been the single promoting Outlaw along with 'Adrenaline' — hang on, they must do 'Minesweeping'; i mean, c'mon, it's Aurora and all — but hey, whaddoo i know? i'm just a Lowly Liddle Reverend in The Congregation, just like everyone else.

OK Danny, i believe i'm done with Ancient History now so back to the photo up top which started it all; the card in the kitchen actually reads 'Take Drugs' — with the additional word — 'responsibly' — at bottom. Danny immediately asked permission to pull it off the magnet board and then threw down a buncha samples to cover the 'responsibly' bit. then i made him remove the tiny hill of Persians before i took my photo cause now some-a my fambly (as well as their friends) read me regularly and i wouldn't wannem to get the wrong idea, mostly cause — well, here's a fun-fact as well as a helpful hint: in NYC both kindsa those kinda powders are white.

where was i —right, Danny wanted the powder in the pic and i didn't. then we play argued. then i won. then he was pissed wasn't pleased. this is me caring.

anyway, he totally removed the powder cause 'it's MY fuckin site, dude'. Danny, i know you'll be reading this and i know where you live *cue spookey music* not that that's a threat or anything. *giggle* if y'all don't like what i say, then start your own fuckin site, like i toldja before. i also said to please quit calling Tawdry my 'blog' — just as i don't 'tweet', i post to my site and IMO, that's a big dif as far as emotional climate, context, background and whatever else go.

yeah, i'm tawkin bout the 'take if from whom it comes' factor — we discussed this a coupla hours ago when i reminded you Why, both tonight and last week and if you hadn't gotten me so coked up and drunk before, i'd dig up my link, but too wasted ATM, thanks to you. *glares*

oh, wait — i torry. in all seriousity, big thanks for wasting me, Danny. :-) as i toldja before, i really, really needed it cause weekends are always the worstest for me.


are we done here yet? (she asked, hopefully). yup, we're done... thank fuckity fuck for that — we dun diddit. *stifles D Wayne Tourette's* aw, fuck it: 'Now y'done diddit, Larry! Nine million dollars worth of computer equipment an' he don't want none!'

fuck! i'm paraphrasing; losing my Alabama 3 Tourette's. i used to know D Wayne's onstage banter (and most of Larry's) like word-for-word by heart and all and know which album, bootleg and/or at which gig they said whatever. senility or cause i don't listen to em that much anymore? both? neither? sump'n worse which hasn't yet occurred to me? opinions? i'd actually love to go 'discuss' but hey — like, why bother? *giggle*

ps, once again, my apologies to Danny. in truth, i really dunno where any post'll take me once i begin writing but it's a sure thing it won't resemble that which i have in mind at the start. and thass my story an' i'm stickin' to it. Punkt, Ende. :-)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

WANT

i want EVERYTHING to stay exactly the way it is now.



'If it doesn't, there just might come the time when there'll be nothing left for death to take away'.

anyway, i know it won't (it never does). and that's not mine (though i wish it were). i blame Charles Bukowski, actually. ;-)


these are — sorry, rather, those were my 'fuck you' soles which stared into the face of many a professor and the dude (forget his name) who initiated me into Golden Key Honor Society. i was reminded of him by sump'n that happened a few hours back, but no time to get into it now, gotta crash and all.

anyway, i need better CUs of the flaming skull side labels and Dance Of Death-y skeletons running round the bottoms, so i'll finish this up later or maybe never. but i just hadda get this shit down to remind me of sump'n which, if time and work permit, i'm more than pleased to go into cause i just might forget stuff.

right, file under 'hinty'. *snigger*

wait —> 1, thanks for sucking up to ringing me tonight, Darren (kidding!); 2, thanks to Ruaraidh for bending to my will saturday morning *giggle* (he didn't really; i just like to say it that way); 3, thanks for last night's comm, Willie. *smirk* we're gonna descend upon The Scottish Congregation in just under two weeks. :-) hmmm... and i just might end up saying 'Glesga' (like they do) instead of going 'Glasgow'. obligatory SPOING!

this post is so totally unfinished, it's pathetic and i've gotta get all the shit down ASAP (in the usual minute, boring detail) cause i don't wanna forget ANYthing. fun-fact: if it weren't for Willie making me blow my shot (so to speak), Hunter would've never flown over and accidentally gotten high friday night. twice — he liked it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

SCORE!

yup, an actual WIN! she shouted unnecessarily *licks index finger / makes an invisible 1 in the air* the thing of it is, i've got a totally amazing thingy to tell, concerning the wee beast you see above, sump'n i thought would never happen and about which i'd given up long ago but i'll get into this new turn of events ASAP. well, i'll tell as soon as my meandering permits and the ADD lets up a bit. do not — i repeat — do not hold your breaths cause what with all the trivial bullshit rolling around, vying for first place in my head, you might die of suffocation before i get to the point and we wouldn't want that.

'Headline, please' — as Chris always puts it, which's a not-so hinty way of telling me to quit babbling, get my thoughts together, stay on-topic and say whatever-it-is using as few a number of words as possible STFU.

hmmpf... one'd think he'd know me better by now but being sane, he's prolly tryna forget. not-so fun-fact: getting from Point A to Point B was never easy-peasey for me, whether it's in writty or in speech cause it forces me to pause and collect myself and put my thoughts (let's call em) in some linear, if not chronological, order when my natural inclination is to go on and on and ON until the so-called 'headline' is inadvertently lost in the rubble, hidden somewhere within my ever-growing Tower of Babble. it's almost like a game — almost kinda sorta: Find The Point.

anyhoo, i'm trying my best to cut to the chase so here's a bit of tonight's mail to Christine: '...DIG THIS SHIT: wait — just had a thought: i really wish i could write all this down on Tawdry, actually ... but this's sump'n i shall never forget so why bother?...' OK, back to the shit... almost there and here it comes. :-)

oh, wait. dammit. there's background *groan* (yes Christine, i can hear you groaning like six thousand-plus miles away and i really can't say i blame you): as you already know, after the first few months, Hunter's refused to sleep with me and i really shouldn't give a shit but i can't help it cause i damn well do. he's the only kitty with whom i've shared my life who's not done it continuously since Night No. 1 (even poor scared-outta-his-wits Petey diddit from the start) and i shouldn't take it personally, but you know me — i take everything personally.

here's my thing: for various reasons since i've been back from NYC, i've been sleeping on the sofa in the LR and lo and behold: a few seconds after i turn out the light, Hunter jumps up and — wonder of wonders — actually stays all curled up and purring against me sleeping all night long — hoorah! finally! Endlich! *happy grrl dancing*
YES! it IS and big thanks to Trollcats for image above. the deal is — it all started when i got back about 02,00 early monday, 19. october and worked straight through till the following night, then was so tired, i didn't even bother tryna make it into the bedroom so i crashed on the sofa. the last thing i remember was Hunter jumping up and i smiled a bit, thinking he was in his usual — now expert — *X-treme Tease* mode and he'd surely take off in a second or two. then i fell out, totally exhausted. ten hours later or so, when i once again came to, he was still there with me — 'Unbe-fuckin-lievable!'

i actually experimented but only for a night or three. after a few days of Hunter and me sleeping together all night on the sofa, i went back to the bedroom and my huge comfy bed, the oak platform Daddy bought me back in 1991. no dice — he came in after i called — as usual — looked up at me — as usual — jumped up for a second or three —as usual — and then went flying out the door — as per fucking usual. }-(

over the last few years whenever i couldn't get to sleep, i'd take a flashlight and try to find him and the spot he prefers over me i mean, the goddamned absolute nerve. he's always in the doorway — ALWAYS — except for here when he moved back a metre or so when he saw i had my phone out (LR door's to the R).


anyway, i took these the other morning before wandering back into the bedroom. y'know — for the record or whatever. here's when i really got in his face.


notice the refusal to meet my eyes — as usual, dammit. anyway, to cut to the chase, all signs indicate i'll be sleeping on the sofa for the foreseeable future like some sad sack of a husband whose wife punishes him by locking him outta the bedroom. i've asked myself 'is it worth it? giving up my bed and the bedroom just to sleep with Hunter? damn straight it is cause there's nothing i dig better than coming to with my kitty — and i totally can't stand the entire waking up coming to process anyway; never did and never will — but having Hunter with me looking all cute and expectant and shit? well, it makes it all the better. well in truth, a liddle bit better. OK, 'better'. happy? *smirk*


back to Cun- Hunter — LOL, who knew? fuck knows what's in his head and why he won't sleep with me in a vasty bed like a normal kitty but shit, i'd rather give up Daddy's oak bed and the bedroom and have him sleeping with me than not. yes, i know i'm crazy but thanks for the reminder. i do have my lucid moments but — praise Jebus — they're not often and that in itself, is a whole 'nother story for a whole 'nother time prolly never, actually. :-)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

i torry

a big thank youse to those who mailed over the last coupla days, having been needlessly alarmed by what they mistakenly read into a coupla my last posts. all is fortunately well but boring-as-hell. it's like, c'mon, y'all know me by now — yeah, i'm tawkin to youse, those i know in meatspace (and some only online) who mailed and txtd over the last few days.

has it been so long y'all need another reminder after all that dope and opium tawk? and this? as well as the Post of Depression (as someone nailed called it)? and after a bit of a think, i chose to add this not-so fun-fact: someone else called 'deer diury' 'similar to a suicide note' — i wouldn't know cause i never wrote one and no, i wasn't tryna be all hinty. y'all know me: if i'm gonna say sump'n, i'm gonna come right out and shout say it. anyway, if y'all need reminders or whatever or you're new here or sump'n (and it surely seems that way by the *smirk* carefully worded tone of your comm), it's all good and i'm fine. c'mon, y'all — yiz must know me by now. this is who i am:





c'mon! it's teh funny — no way did i think anyone'd read any bad shit into my writty and christ jebus! take me seriously. *wack* (not me, for once, but youse). ;-)

anyway, i'm sorry if i caused needless grief or worry or whatever negative elses but i'm totally not sorry if those who don't dig me got all happy thinking i was leaving clues — like breadcrumbs! like in Hansel and Gretel! — before i checked out. and guess what? yiz'll never guess so i'll tell: my next post is actually totally positive with all this good shit inside — will wonders never cease? not if i can help it. hmm... still don't have that quiet 'inside' voice down yet and prolly never shall. *shrugs* my bad. :-)

edit @15,10: thanks for caring and stuff. :-) right now, i think it'd be really funny if i posted that photo of me with the gun in my mouth (the one i mentioned at the end of here) but i think maybe that'd be going too far and negate all the stuff i said above. the thing of it is, i think it's funny. but knowing not many have my warped sensa yooma, i'll post this instead (thanks again, Brian).


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Death of Chatterton

Thomas Chatterton '...(20 November 1752 – 24 August 1770) was an English poet and forger of pseudo-medieval poetry. He died of arsenic poisoning, either from a suicide attempt or self-medication for a venereal disease...'

above was painted in 1856 by Henry Wallis. having forgotten nearly all the Art History i learnt way back when, i remembered Chatterton after i found this in my desk drawer (bought in NYC in 1990-sump'n):


i can't find it anywhere on the 'Net cause i losted the backside with the publishing company from which it came. and it's a greeting card, like. hmmm... to whom does one send sump'n like that? OD'd junkies? cause if yiz look very closely, a buncha vials and an old-fashioned hypodermic injector can be seen and whoa, what a stash that musta been. oops — did i say that out loud? *shrugs* what-EVarrr... tee-hee.

in other news, '...how about a book about opium and homelessness? In Confessions of an English Opium-Eater (1821) Thomas de Quincey tells the tale of his laudanum addiction, the way opium is taken, the way it works upon the mind and body, and how he finally managed to get clean again.

'The book is supposed to be a cautionary tale, because telling of the joys of drugs was not something the Victorian Era agreed to. The book is split in parts, for example The Pleasures of Opium and The Pains of Opium. I think the part about the pleasures is a beautiful and enjoyable read, and the part about the pains is mostly quite boring, but you might feel differently...'

you can read the entire book here, actually. anyway, the first time i read it i was eight or nine, after it was recommended by this older, brilliant and wealthy attorney (loaded but losing it fast), a junkie i met through a friend of a friend down in the Village. after we talked for hours at Cafe Figaro one night (sipping real Capuccinos), he told me he wanted to be my mentor. i failed to tell him i had like about six already including two on books, reading and writing and The New Left.

anyway, the first time i read it, i didn't understand shit but (as i told him) if a successful working dude like he diddit and deQuincey wrote a classic about it, i wanted to try a true narcotic. personal note: at that point in time, i'd never even smoked Cannabis — that came years later. the first drug i ever did was Amphetamine Crystal actually... i was 15. whoa, what was i sayin again?

right — i read deQuincey again at 16 and goddit a bit more. then after i'd acquired a lotta bit of Empirical Experience (heroin, opium, dilaudid et al.), i read it again at 20, with Roger, in San Francisco. at one point, it used to be our Before Bedtime Reading and we'd take turns,totally ripped outta our faces reciting chapters to each other.

hah! just remembered i used to shout 'wake up — your turn!' into his ear but only sometimes. he wasn't too happy but always straightened out enough to keep on reading. *snigger* helpful hint: do not, i repeat: do NOT read anything into any of this or this or this mainly cause a) if you dig me, it'll cause unnecessary grief — see my next post thanking those concerned which i plan to write if work permits me to fuck around long enough to actually do it and b) if you hate me, you'll be all pleased for nothing, thus wasting your time.

and that's all she wrote — peace out, yo. *smirk*

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

deer diury...

after i watched Good Night and Good Luck the other night, i went looking for sump'n through my old Tawdry stuff, sump'n having to do with the veracity of my Uncle Sam's actually being a card-carrying Communist in the 1930s *proud* RIP Uncle Sam. :-(

amongst a coupla other results, for whatever inane reason, Google served me this and since it's getting closer to the time of year i wanna go to sleep in november and wake up 1. january Christmas again, i figured 'why not?' after changing it around and adding a few of my LOLCats.


NO! it's still october, dammit and it won't be safe until after the GIMME-GIMME season's done, along with New Year's Eve *shudder* so Sod, if you're down there, here's your chance! i'm totally with Uncle Jr Soprano here.


no shit, Sherlock. anyway, enjoy. *evil* if you can. no, rilly — enjoy or whatever it matters not. where were we again? right... 'deer diury'...






holy hell, Hunter — i don't remember asking YOU. let's move on.



*singing bits i remember from like, another lifetime*

'...Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred...

'...You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you...

'...Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to...

'...And if my thought-dreams...
Could be seen...
They'd probably put my head...
In a...' — um... gil? errr, uh, gulli — ....'


and finally, my original point.








big duh — why'dja think i used images? ;-)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Stoneleigh House & me

edit on monday 13,41: totally forgot to add my liddle symbol below, so let's hear it people, yet again: 1, 2, 3 — Alle zusammen (all together now), a hugely shouty and very deserving 'duhhhh me'. *rolls eyes*

like a crackwhore forced to give 5$ blowjobs moth drawn to flame, i can't pass this place without stopping to take a photo or three. see that teenytiny blueish-white dot at right? that's the half moon as it appeared about an hour ago when, coming back from Queens Road and about to begin the long haul up the Hill, i put my groceries down and had a cigarette break. i really and truly and very consciously tried to avoid pulling out my phone, but no... i'm bopping around, smoking my cig and admiring the house from all angles when bingo — 'Phone's ringing, Dude' — a txt flew in from Someone who's currently too high and mighty humiliated shy to be mentioned here. *cough* no worries, d00d; i totally don't blame you — in all seriousity, if this weren't my place do you think i'd wanna be here either?

anyway, in the midst of the ensueing flurry of txts, i smoked a joint i forgot i had (thanks, Gemma and Danny!) then sat down at the bottom of the hill whilst waiting for the next txt to come in cause we were suddenly tawkin some sobering shite that needed to be addressed right then and there and feigning concern, i got totally bored when i found myself pressing the 'camera' button, i realised i could give way better advice taking pictures than just sittin there, stoned and that's my story and i'm stickin to it. :-)

onto sump'n totally different: once upon a time like ages ago, the official Alabama 3 message-board had a topic called (sump'n like) Where Did It All Go Wrong? the next are phone pix of first, a studio photo over which my mother still cries, where i'm holding my liddle sister, tooken a million years ago.


i was four and already knew Things Weren't Right — the seeds of where it all went wrong were totally planted the year before and were just beginning to sprout or whatever. moving right along, the unfortunate woman cries over this one as well: it's how i looked for a day or so in the 90s after i threw a fuckin fit in the college principal's office very reluctantly took the red outta my hair cause the idiotic PTB wouldn't gimme my diploma onstage if i kept the color on though i graduated with honors. notice the defiant white streaks i asked the hairdresser to put in at the sides.


where did it all go wrong? i dunno... and if i ever knew, i've forgotten. anyway, i've dawdled enough so it's back to work for me. fun-fact: i've had to hold myself back from going over to Twitter tonight — so far, so good cause i consider liddle things like that as exercises in self-control, sump'n i should've learnt ages ago but somehow didn't. hmmpf... *lightbulb on* i guess that's partially Why it all went wrong but Where did it all go wrong? you tell me.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

state of the Slum(p) XIII

i came to in the midst of watching Caravaggio a coupla hours ago and checked my phone which didn't match the time on my iPod or Mac and then realised we gained an hour or whatever at 02,00. went out on the balcony, saw the pret-ty colors (which this photo makes look like faded crap, bearing no resemblance to what's actually going on out there):


and then got even more depressed cause it's getting close to that time of year again. just a liddle warning sayin'.

in other nothing's happening but that never stopped me news, when i came in from the balcony, i found Hunter tryna watch Kitteh TV.


i helped him by opening the blinds a bit more instead of completely closing em again to keep out the hated daylight.


when the room was as sunlit as i could stand, i started to shut em up again but at that very moment, he decided to take out his aggressions by lunging at me (ears back and dilated LSD and/or speed and/or coked-up pupils) but i was faster and moved outta range before he could get me. then, outta frustration yes, i know i'm anthropormorphosising but i don't care, he gave one of his scratching posts a thorough attacking ('thorough' meaning like four or five minutes).


he's pouting in the corner now and all i have are photos of his ass cause he won't turn around, so thanks, Cunter. moving right along, Danny and Gemma are supposed to drive over to visit me later cause i think they feel sorry for me since i never wanna go out. whoa, are they gonna have a surprise when i teach em Lesson 1 of my own personal style of fuckwittery NYC Stubborn-ness. dudes! i hope you read this before you leave Bath Spa mainly so i can go 'hey — i warned you'. :-)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Banksy or not?

way at the end of august in my post after the Banksy show, i included above pic and wrote 'right before we took off, i noticed a slip of paper lying on a chair in the corner of one of the Museum's halls. it's a tiny liddle thing, maybe 2" x 1,5" and it was face-down but i could see some dark splotches of sump'n on the back so i went over and picked it up'. expanding upon myself:

yup, it's a bit of a stencil design. i've no idea why it was there and no idea who diddit and in the photo, i've no idea if it's upside-down or what but i dig thinking it's a bit of Banksy — maybe sump'n he left as a goof, like just to see if anyone'd find it and if so, it they thought it was worth taking (stealing? dunno). well, i took it and if Mikey wants it, he can have it along with the rest of his birthday present although i'm loathe to part with it.

i really dig it cause apart from the mystery inherent (Banksy or not?) it's kinda like clouds or a Rorschach Test or like when you're high and you see sump'n and you look again, it's almost like an optical illusion and you see whatever as if for the very first time and it's always some mundane sump'n. the thing of it is, i've asked around, went 'Banksy or not?' and half my respondents (including John, the manager dude at Whiteladies Road PDSA, my fave cashier at Sainsbury's and Becky, my former hairdresser yup, 'former', goddammit), thought it was and half thought not. great going, rimone. }-(

so after long, hard deliberation, the downing of much Diazepam to ward off impending anxiety and to suppress my Selfish Gland, i'm very reluctantly happily sending it off to Mikey, Banksy or not *sobs* cause he's about the only other dude i know bar one whose name shall go unmentioned apart from me who'd totally appreciate it. plus he's like my confidante as well as my closest, bestest friend here and one of my oldest — thanks to email and good ol' FreeA3.com, we'd been tight for over six months even before we hooked up in meatspace and that was like over six years ago.

anyway, i have no idea which end's up and which's down, so i'm posting it again every which way, in the hopes people'll tell me their opinions after reading how i found it and all: do you think it's a Banksy or not? not-so-fun-fact: it's blurry cause the design is blurry and also cause i'm wasted drunk and my hands're shaking so bad, i only got five barely usable photos outta the 20 i took and then i gave up.




hmmpf... dunno about youse but i see birds, eyes, wings, masks and a duck. oh, wait. alla that could be from the X and booze or it's that vivid imagination thing going on again. maybe. ;-)

OK, if anyone has an opinion on what they think this is and especially if you think it's a bit of a real Banksy or not, please contact me (2ndary addy's on my profiile page and/or yiz can @ me or DM me on Twitter, txt me or ring me and/or mail me if you've got my real addy). i'd actually ask him at Twitter myself but apart from the fact he last twat like six months ago, i have a very strong feeling, he'd wouldn't bother to reply, so like, why bother? however, i did mail him here, though i don't expect a reply. anyway, TIA, dudes — i eagerly await. :-)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Paul Bowles — Without Stopping

a bit from Christine's last mail: '...the Paul Bowles I love — here it is — the last paragraph of his autobiography Without Stopping (he ended his book talking about death of course)...'

*snigger* take it away, Paul! *smirk*


'..."The Moroccans claim that full participation in life demands the regular contemplation of death. I agree without reserve. Unfortunately I am unable to conceive of my own death without setting it in the far more terrible mise en scene of old age. There I am without teeth, unable to move, wholly dependent upon someone whom I pay to take care of me and who at any moment may go out of the room and never return.

"Of course this is not at all what the Moroccans mean by the contemplation of death; they would consider my imaginings a particularly contemptible form of fear. One culture's therapy is another culture's torture.

"Goodbye", says the dying man to the mirror they hold in front of him "We won't be seeing each other any more". When I quoted Valery's epigram in The Sheltering Sky, it seemed a poignant bit of fantasy. Now, because I no longer imagine myself as an onlooker at the scene, but instead as the principal protoganist, it strikes me as repugnant. To make it right, the dying man would have to add two words to his little farewell, and they are: "THANK GOD!"...'


EXACTLY — BTW, here's Paul smoking kief in Morocco (just sayin'). anyway, thank you, Paul and thanks, Christine. :-)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

thank you, Mom :-)

hey Mom, thank you very muchly for the early Christmas-Hannukah present. it's exactly what i wanted since i found it myself on sale, online in the States and they don't ship outta the country, put it on your card (not mine) and sent it off to yours to wait for me to collect it and bring it back here. my last batch — my Christmas '02 gift from BJ remember? when Chris came with me? i, for one, shall never forget it, but i betcha you have — lasted me almost seven years and there's only a drop or two left. check it out:



hmmpf... naturally i have issues with the fact they changed the bottles' labels; the old one was an actual label embossed on heavy foil and the new one's just stamp-painted on. and their new package design — i like the old one better cause it's way more subtle, but whaddoo i know?


the brass kitty'll go on the new box once i'm done with the old. no, wait — the new box is busy enough. fuck! anyway, Mom, i really, really appreciate that you didn't go off on me after Barbara warned you i'd you'd already bought me my Christmas present. and especially last week when you gave it over without any too much hassle and the inevitable third degree. but i'm totally not sorry you don't dig the way it smells — not many do, but as you so unfortunately know, that never stopped me from doing whatever 'iz stawree of mai lief, akshully'.

here — you always dig seeing what my flat looks like but god forbid you should actually come over here and see it for yourself and why i love living here so here's the corner of one of the bathroom shelves where your Patchouli's residing at the moment hah! the brass kitty's flipped over, ripped outta his face.



yup, that's an American penny over there. anyway, thanks again, Mom. *love and kisses* :-)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Gus and Natty &c

i took this of Gus and Natty at the Italian restaurant after Gus' Bar-Mitzvah ceremony at Some Synagogue in Brooklyn last saturday. it was kinda cool cause one of the Rabbis was a chick who'd converted from Christianity to Judaism when she married her husband. or before, don't remember.

TPFKAPM and i got Gus this totally gorgeous pen at the British Museum that came in a pretty cool case and all. unfortunately, i can't find a damn pic of it anywhere but it was half silver and half black faux snakeskin and felt great in my hand. and they were having a show on Mexico so we got Natty what we got ourselves: Oaxacan clay skulls, all handmade and thus, each was unique i made sure i got the one with the bullethole thing in his fore- “Always put one in the brain!” *in a Jon Polito voice*



he's sitting on the stack of books on my desk and i'm staring at him right now. haven't named him yet, but i shall; i've gotta get to know em better before i can give em good names and shit. hmmm... maybe Polito. *cough* moving right along


YES, I KNOW (see number 2). you're new around here, right? *smirk* hah, the smirk just reminded me i have a message for Darren: thanks for ringing me tonight and making me a liar. *glares* hmmpf... *dusts off hands* tee-hee. :-)


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

you know who you are

jealousy's such a weirdass thing and i consider myself lucky that way back when, in the States, i pretty much lost it. shit! wait... gotta do my usual stoopit-stition. *cough* yo, Sod — that wasn't an invite — TIA!

getting back to Hell's Fuck-You-Finger, it's meant for you, you disease-ridden, dog-felching, lying sacka shit. fun-fact: i'm not addressing anyone with a vagina — amazing, right?

even more amazing, though it might sound otherwise, i'm in a totally decent mood apart from the fact that i'm like, working my ass off. BOOOR-RING! *in a Homer voice* here's the State of the Slum(p) exactly now @01,03:


but only when i think of work. moving right along, i'm still planning to post the pics and liddle memories and shit of Gus' Bar-Mitzvah but i haven't yet found the time they deserve (so i'm gonna hafta steal it).

getting back to the Fiery Fuck-You Finger person:


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

for BJ & Rigby II

hey Bibs, see? i diddit again. awwww... HE's SO CUTE. :-)

this was the scene last friday at my sister's place right before we walked the 1,2 miles downtown to St Mark's Place in the rain. when we passed East Ninth, i had a fit cause Rock Around The Clock shut down and she told me it was vacant and for rent for ages already. WTF? sad, sad, sad. i once sat across from Billy Idol at his birthday party in... i think it was 1983 but that's another story. his mother was there, this sweet liddle old lady to whom i was tawkin. she was nice.

walking from hers to the East Village took us 15 minutes or so cause we're both serious walkers. i used to walk all over the City and years ago, timed it to a minute or less a block going up or downtown but walking East to West is quite another story (about 2-2,5 minutes until the next Avenue). hmmm... i never used subways unless i was in Brooklyn or the South Bronx and that's how i developed my NYC Hand (just began to use it here) and the ability to walk faster than people way taller than me i.e., everybody. |-(

we headed for Trash & Vaudeville and got my late birthday presents and then took off ASAP we couldn't wait to get the fuck outta there for two separate reasons *smirk* but that's another story.

thank you, Barbara. *love* and thank YOU, Rigby. *cuddles and kisses* i missed Hunter so much, i like, sublimated and just about squoze the life outta him and he so cool, he actually let me. Cunter. if only! *weeps*

in other news, both my sister and i think this is hilarious:


and she's like totally normal and all, 100% unlike me in every respect apart from the vicious tongue and temper, let's call em and be done with it. we both know — oh, how we know — it's the Psychotic Sisters (Iron Mommy and Bar-Mitzvah Boy's Granny) and their father who fucked us up, bigtime. that side of the fam — not Daddy's.

wait. what was i sayin— right. i had a point and it was see? she asked defiantly it's not just me and my enormous capacity for drugs consumption, the only thing that blocks out the suicidal ideation and shit. it's her as well. *points to younger sister* *snigger*

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

personal note: FAIL

editor's note @19,09: i added a bunch of Thank Youse down at the bottom of this, stuff i so stupidly forgot to write when i got back. i torry. :-(

tonight i gave up The Simpsons after deadline so i could crash after having been up for... for a LOTTA hours hey, that coulda been a line from Idiocracy! soz, i'm teh suck at maths — totally innumerate in general — especially now cause of jet-lag, stress and other related shit. i know i need Rehab for Insanely Over-Protective Mothers, like a debriefing or sump'n. depressurisation? like that.


once on The Simpsons someone said sump'n like 'a grizzly bear can tear through a tree “faster than a Jewish mother through self-esteem.” when i heard that shit, i thought i'd fuckin die laughing. then i wept a bit. then i LOLd again. then i remembered 'There is some truth behind the old joke that the difference between Jewish mothers and Rottweilers is that Rottweilers will eventually let go' from some article on the 'Net here. and then i remembered this:

'If someone who knows you as well as your mother will believe in you then you will believe in yourself — and off you go on the yellow brick road to Oscar. If in contrast nobody hears you singing Stand by Me and you come as I do from a place where never was said an encouraging word ... you rarely get up that high. You end up stunted or paralyzed, your dreams stuffed into some trash bin which you search from time to time like the homeless hunting for a can or bottle to redeem...'

then i made myself a cVcV and went back to sleep. but that was then. i dunno... i crashed at 7PM every night last week whilst in Brooklyn — wednesday, thursday and friday nights. then i was up late on saturday night after the party, slept a few hours then woke up again at 04,00 sunday NYC time for coffee whilst my mother offered me everything Nomsy in the goddamned house and i had to physically restrain myself from smacking her cause it was obvious to her i was still playing some stupid baby game and was truly starving to death and bullshitting her about it. at least i think that's her thinking. anyway, where was i? right, last week: i usually slept straight through from 7PM to 5AM, so in a way, i never adjusted to the time-zone changes and i was waking up a few hours earlier than my regular time here.

saturday i got loaded drunk at the party after the Bar Mitzvah, danced my ass off (with my sister mostly and that was actually fun), then had to endure the emotional third degree (and outta alla em, this was the worst of all) after i got up at 04,00 sunday (ostensibly for some private time — alone) whilst my mother got up too, fretted her ass off and then came her final malignant touch when she put the possibility that the car service wouldn't show up, put that shit into my head, so after a brief um.. 'scussion' (let's call it) in the kitchen, she called em to confirm. *wack*

goddammit to hell, i have a fucking dental appointment at 15,30 later today and i was so drop-dead tired from working from 02,30-ish sunday till 18,00-ish yesterday. or so i thought. hmmpf... so after deadline, i laid down and stared at the ceiling till 22,30-ish not sleeping a second. i gave up the fucking Simpsons for nothing — thank you, Sod! then i had a huge platter of slices of Scottish Bute mixed w/slabs of Red Leicester (first time i ate since the flight home here), a kilo of red grapes; tried to watch Seven and drifted in and out.

me: 'great, i'm really tired. i'll ensure it'. so i popped a V, had a few tokes of this killer weed and now have a sudden urge to see the Hitchcock documentary, the one on the same disc with The 39 Steps. WTF? oh, and then the phone rang but that's another story. point being, now i really can't sleep. grrrr... |-(

edit @13,35 cause like a dumbass, i forgot to say in my last post: the most heartfelt of heartfelt Thank Youse (with kisses and stuff) to Sarah & Rich (Mr & Mrs Ifor The Engine), Pam, Angie, Christine, Darren, Chris and everyone else who mailed and txtd 'Welcome back' — all of whose txts i stupidly deleted in this morning's state of half-awake-ity early this morning by mistake and now can't remember from whom they all came. if i left you out, i'm really sorry (i blame the senility, actually). as well, big thanks to Leisl, ReplayRay, Mike, John and Chuck.

and once again, cause i feel guilty as hell, my sincerest apologies to Ray and (my only GF in NYC) Black Maria *frantically waves* with both of whom i so stupidly planned to hook up (explained here). i totally forgot how crazy my mother was is and like an idiot, hope springs eternal i keep thinking that as the years drag on, i'll be old enough so that she'll permit me to ride the damn subways after dark by myself (like a normal humanbean — an adult), but NO. }-( and she wonders why i don't ever grow up and 'mature'.

all i can say is 'thanks, Ma — as usual, you fucked things up to the point at which it was easier to cave than go off and have fun with my friends, only to return and submit to your inevitably miserable bitching and guilt-inducing moaning — in that voice of yours *shudder* — and then, the repetitions of same over and over and over again, as is your wont'. *cue my Filmic Tourettes* 'Nothing ever changes' *in a John Goodman voice*. :-(

and needless to say when did that ever stop me? but i'll say it anyway, the biggest of thanks to Chris for encouragement and both emotional and mental support (with the usual stress on the 'mental'). *mirthless laughter reigns supreme*

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *