Worth

despondent. 

crestfallen.

dejected.

melancholy.

disconsolate.

 dispirited. 

inconsolable.

Generally I care vary little for how others perceive me.

I have very few reasons for giving a shit in any direction. 

If you've gained my respect, don't burn me. I will hate you for life.

 I hold grudges, keep record of wrongs, tally black marks and don't give a fuck about how bad you feel, how sorry you are or even how little you care. You die to me until I need to remind myself of why you were forgotten. 

My boss, Robert West has managed to extinguish the last bit of light that I had for my job.

He repeatedly told me that my heart is not in the store.

 I asked for a raise based on a evaluation so I could get paid what I feel I'm worth instead of just asking for a raise or so I could see where I would need to improve in order to make more.

That was 6 months ago. 

Back when I gave a fuck.

 He never evaluated me. 

He did, 3 months later, offer me a senior assistant position with more responsibility for a raise.

I declined.

I'm stupid enough to still want a career as a massage therapist. I didn't want to become a cornerstone in the store when there was a chance that I might need to leave. 

I thought I was doing the right thing. 

I'm learning the hard way that very few people and jobs care one way or the other about 'the right thing' 

There's all this shit all over the store about being a good leader and what you can do to get there.

 I loved my job once. 

I now know that my heart was in it because it's been broken.

 I took all that shit to heart. Leadership traits, core values, blah, blah, blah, blah.

 I wanted to be a good manager. I thought that I was. 

I asked Rob if it was worth it for me to stay at Papa Johns, to become the senior assistant.

For a long time he didn't answer and finally said 'I don't know how to answer that'

I guess I should have left then. 

I should have left last year when I threatened to quit because of James Scott and it was the devil himself that retained me with a raise. Not Rob. He would've let me go.

I should've been smart enough then to realize just how worthless a manager I am to Rob. 

Lesson learned.

 

Stupid words

When people say that their head is swimming, I always picture a brain putting on a bathing suit and swim cap then climbing to the top of some obscenely high diving platform and pep talking itself to jump. That description does not conjure the feeling that I'm trying to convey when I say, 'My head is swimming' Instead, I'll say 'My head is in a brandy parlor' The kind you might imagine a group of well-to-do older gentlemen in smoking cigars and drinking...well, brandy or what have you. To come into a brandy parlor an hour after everyone has arrived and is in good spirits is not just painful, it's hard to breathe, the eyes burn, the conversation is infuriating and the whole experience is uncomfortable at best......for me at least.
To feel muddled mentally, like you can't organize your thoughts properly or say things the way you hope to, you could also say 'I have morning brain' or 'My brain just took a dump the size of Texas and took half my IQ with it'
You know, I have no idea why I started this blog.

I even swear poorly : (

I've started a painting. FINALLY.
For months I feel like I've been running around a field full of heavy little legless balloon children, wielding this giant net to catch them in but have yet bag just one. That for instance is one of the many weak ass metaphores I came up with to elaborate on my helplessness towards my various crafts. Fucking balloon children. Maybe I'll draw them instead or write a crappy song about them or crochet them 30 fucking matching hats and goddamned scarves!!!! or DRAW THEM ALL FUCKING ON A CROCHET GUITAR WHILE SHOUTING UNNERVING AND SEXY POETRY ABOUT LEONARD NIMOY!!!!!! I guess I could but I think I'll just go to bed.

My achey brain meats

The ideas flow but the fingers refuse to cooperate : (

It night lights

Part of me is screaming.
It tears me apart but never reaches the surface.
It's seething with anger and frustration like some kind of mangled creature, rabid and snarling on the end of its thin leash.
The world around me suddenly goes dark.
I'm left standing in this eerie, inner glow that I constantly debate on extinguishing......
I dream of a warm world full of hallways littered with comfort and radiating a playful joy that begs me to run and smile with it.
It's something akin to reaching into a curtain and feeling a soft, desirable breeze play on the tips of my fingers.....teasing me with promises of better things that can't or won't call me home.

Floaters

I think some people aren't meant for solid ground. (Metaphorically speaking.) I very well may be a floater, drifting along, occasionally caught on a branch or on water plants. Then I go....floating, observing, bumping into little somethings that quickly become little nothings on my path to nowhere. Sometimes caught in eddies or still bodies before continuing on.....destined to float for no apparent reason..............when I think of the word floater I think of shit. The kind that floats and won't be flushed. Somehow I can relate without feeling too angry. What the fuck is that all about?'

The silence is so deafening I think I hear music

 I try to read. All the words are falling like raindrops into a puddle at the corner of the page. I shake the book back and forth like an Etch-a-Sketch hoping for clarity but it fails. Instead I am left with an inedible soup.
 The letters are hungry for my attention so I sate them by collecting them on my finger tips and watch them jump back onto the page.
 One of the V's gets lodged into the page junction...it looks so helpless there, I need to rally the others to help but they can't hear me. They only hear screeches.
 How can I help the poor V? If I run my finger up the spine i might break it. If I spread the pages further apart, it could slide further in.
 I'm gliding my index finger in circles around the center hypnotizing the letters into a chain when it suddenly passes by an catches the V, smoothly guiding it free.
 I scoop the V onto my fingers and caress it with my lips, happy that's it's ok.
 It then teases itself into my mouth and, moving slowly back, reaches for my throat.
 I swallow and say 'Veeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee'
 To my astonishment, the chain of letter has undone itself before my eyes and begs to play on my smile.
 My eager hands take them all in my mouth at once! And with closed eyes I swirl them around with my tongue, delighting in the noise they've helped me to make.

Adoration at it's finest

"fuck! I can't stand this! Why won't you just hold still?!" she screamed and climbed on top on his chest, pressing him hard into the gravel.
"If I have to go all the way back to the car and waste more time on you, I swear to god I'll rip off your ears!" she then put her lips up to his face, grabbed an earlobe and yelled "YOU HEAR THIS MOTHERFUCKER?! I'LL........RIP........THEM......OFF!!!!!"
He finally lay still and stared at her through blurry, tear filled eyes. She stood up and kicked him in ribs then brushed her blond hair out her eyes with her blood soiled hands.
From his vantage point he could see her blue panties and started getting an uncomfortable chubby. He watched her untangle rope and mutter things to herself between giggles and anger fits, all the while admiring her short muscular legs and firm ass. This made him cry again and sob through the hosiery that she had gagged him with. He could taste her on them and frenzied his tongue all over them like a last meal.
When finally finished unknotting the ropes she loving wrapped his torso shibari style and pulled him towards the woods.
He tried to plead with her but she only yelled at him and kicked dirt in his face while he flailed his legs about.
She stopped in front of a large tree then bent over him and slapped him across the face. "Now stand UP!"
She held the ropes tightly as he inched towards the tree and leaning on it, propped himself up and slid up to meet her face to face. They exchanged inaudible words through their eye contact. He looked down at his chest and then back at her slowly shaking his head. She replied with a frown that gave way to smile and then into a blank expression. He looked up around him as if begging the trees to intervene while she walked the rope around him and the tree he leaned on.
"You......you said things would be different!" she began pacing back and forth in front of him sometimes getting in his face and showering him with bits of spittle. "I told you what would happen and you just wouldn't listen!" she said, wiping the tears from her eye with the arm of her tweed sport jacket.
She got up close to him again, grabbed the bulge in his pants then kissed the gag and licked the pieces of lip that were exposed. The heat radiating from her body intensified every moment she lingered.
After the kiss he was fully erect and in a great deal of pain both from the rope and the ecstasy. She backed away from him as her hands slowly moved up her thighs under her skirt to her waist where she removed her panties and tossed them on the ground.
He began shaking his again when she dropped to her knees and began furiously tearing at his zipper. She pulled his pants down around his knees and shoved every inch of his throbbing cock into the back of her throat. With her free hand, she teased along the hem of her own skirt before letting her fingers come to rest on her labia.
She cried and stroked and sucked and fucked herself to an orgasm as he let go on her beautiful tear stained face.
After taking a moment to collect herself she pulled a small knife from her pocket, stood to meet his gaze once more and slit him from ear to ear.
She wiped her face and bloody knife on the panties and started back to the car. Once inside she cried, slammed her fists onto the steering wheel and screamed "IT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR!!!!!"
She never was very good at falling in love...

Monday, August 27, 2007 4:58am

....so I went to the meeting. The sense of urgency was overwhelming although it was obvious that this endevour was going to take some time. I don't know the people beside me yet I feel trust. We will go one at a time. Those that fail will repeat the task until completion; those that succeed will be met with more questions but at least that is somewhere other than here.
    The first one goes by skateboard down the hill. He passes the pedestrians, glides beneath the power lines and reaches the house. He waves back to let us know he's made it. We then connect with him, seeing through his eyes.
    He looks through the back door window past the dirty ruffled curtain into a porch littered with things that someone couldn't or wouldn't throw away. A metal cabinet with double doors was blocking the entrance to the kitchen and you could hear the rantings of a man in turmoil just inside. Every so often something would smash against a wall or a window else where in the house would break.
    He looks back at us again...confidence waining but bravery intact. He jiggles the handle...the door opens and he enters.
    Our connection is lost (and rightfully so). We pace and look on, starring at the door. The house is quiet. We wait for what seems like forever......we discuss our tactics; why we're here and the possibilities of what may be to come.
    Eternity at our fingertips.
    Then something disturbs us back to the door. He's come out slowly, dragging his feet with a gun in his hand. He gives us a desperate look. You can tell he's crying...he lifts the gun and discharges a round into his temple. The shot was silent and the air became heavy. His body faded away and a top floor window shattered out into the yard.
    The two of us stood there looking over the empty spot where once a pool of blood stained the grass.
   
    It was the next mans turn. He sucked in a large helping of air, mounted his bike and said "See ya' on the flip side" with a hint of regret. He too travelled down the hill, past the pedestrians and under the power lines. He walked around to the side of the House and peered into the windows. We saw a man in a filthy white robe, a long beard and long hair with middle-eastern colored skin. He's pacing and calling out; looking at the ceiling and pounding his chest. He slams his fists on the mantel, pushes the clock and vase placed there into the floor and they shatter at his feet.
    The man slowly get off his bike, lowers his head and walks away. He doesn't look back. He doesn't try to get in. He just gives up and walks away, fading as he does so.

    Now it is my turn. I debate for a moment on staying. I lose to myself and go. Walking down the hill, I see a young girl with a doll. She asks if I'll help her find her daddy so I take her hand and keep on walking.
    An elderly woman is trying to cross the street, she's trying to rub the worry from her eyes and my heart goes out to her. She's afraid and just wants to get home but the traffic is keeping her from comfort. I ask the little girl if she wants to help me help the woman. She looks up at me. I know that she means yes, even though she doesn't say a word. The elderly woman sees us comming. Her eyes light up and she begins to smile. Her expression is relieved and weary. I tighten my grip on the little girls' hand and take the old womans'. Look left, Look right, look left again and cross. The traffic stops as we enter the street. Everything slows and gives us their attention. Some are happy because we help. Some are jealous and some are apathetic. Halfway through the raod the little girl yells "DADDY!!" and runs to a man on the other side who drops to his knees, opens his arms and exclaims "PRINCESS!! Oh! My baby girl! You're ok!!" The old woman looks over to me. 'well done' she says with her eyes, pats me on the back and lets go of my hand. She picks up the doll that the little girl dropped in her excitement and hands it to the father. He thanks the old woman over and over again to which she smiles, nods and walks away.
    I watch her walk away. I watch the reunited in their happiness and my heart breaks...in a good way. I don't take credit or say a word. I just turn and walk toward the house.
    Now that I am on the opposite side of the street, the power lines are not above me. A few yards down the street is a destitute man selling handkercheifs out of his pockets. My broken heart goes out to him so I search myself for money but all I can find is a few cents. It startles him when I ask how much and reach my 53 cents out to him. "A smile" he says. I smile. "Such a pretty smile should never leave a face that belongs to such a strong heart." he replies. "thank you.." I say and bow graciously to his kindness.
    Now at the yard. I look down at the kerchief then back at the house. I approach the door and knock.
    The door opens and the house goes quiet. The man is standing in the blocked doorway. He watches me walk in and move stuff out of the way. I make my way to the cabinet; we are a yard away from one another and both reach down to upright the cabinet. We look at one another. I feel acceptance.
    He turns to walk into the kitchen, picks up a chair to sit in and I do the same. He says:
    "My father wanted this. He wanted this beautiful strong house. He wants me to watch over it. He says that it's all for you..well not just you but all of you. He told me that this was the only way to save you and i'm thinking, save them from what?!"
    "..ourselves?" I ask.
    "Exactly! To save you from yourselves and believe me I understand why you need saving, hell I was where you are once! Such simple minds but so abolutely complicated" he laughs. "It's funny how you complicate thigns to feel important. You complicate things to feel like you're really alive. You complicate things so you can search for something.....you complicate yourselves like you have a reason to..." he begins sobbing. "...and it's not about me. It never was about me. It was all for you...I begged him...I begged him to relieve me of this burden and he turned his back on me! It was to lead by example! LEAD BY FUCKING EXAMPLE AND YOU STILL DON'T GET IT!! It wasn't about me....." He's crying and breathing heavy through his teeth. "If you'd all just take care of one another...if you could just see how much one could make a difference...if you only saw past your own beautiful and twisted desires...you'd see how much better everything would be. One makes a difference...." I reach into my pocket and hand him the kercheif.
    He looks at it in disbelief. He wipes the blood from his hands and face. Dabs the tears from his eyes and says "Thank you....this is all it takes." and shakes the kercheif so I can see that it's clean. No blood no tears, then he fades away.
    The kercheif is on the table for moment then fades as well.
    I walk to the front door, pausing for a moment with his voice echoing lightly "..this is all it takes.." I grab the door knob and light pours in when it gives.

    A huge green field spotted with trees lay before me with a picnic shelter tucked just inside a sprawl of oak. I feel a weight of responibility to get to the shelter and so I go.
    There are some stairs to the side that I veture up. I can see rafters and people in them and they see me. None are moving but all are thingking about moving. Most of them are too scared to move to the next rung. Risking themselves is too much.
    I crawl onto the first one and then try to move to the next and fall hard onto the pavement when my hands can't grip the beams. A sharp inhale of shock comes from the others in the rafters.
    I stand up and look at them all, then climb the stairs again to which they murmmer to themselves. I take my spot on the first beam then close my eyes and step off...much to my surprise there is a floor and when I open my eyes I'm in a room. The people on the rafters are gone.
    There is man playing video games talking, half arguing, football stats to a man in the corner on a lazy boy whose rolling a blunt. The last man is looking out a window contemplating something dangerous.
    Something is happening here and I know that I have to die for one of them...."..this is all it takes"

**This is a dream I had this morning. I haven't looked it up or tried to understand it completely but after typing it out and forcing myself back into it I'm starting see how the pieces fit.**

Tomorrow doesn't look good for rhyming.....

I'm ranting, I'm raving, I'm saving the day
I'm stalling, stone-walling and begging for rain.
I'm failing at hating and I must say
Tomorrow'ed be great, if not for today.

I laugh loud and cry soft though it's all in my head
I feel much and express little to increase my street cred'
I'd love to shoot bullets if they weren't made of lead
Tomorrow'ed be great if I weren't already dead

It's been 13 years since I made a rhyme
and I think you can tell I read Shel Silverstein
I like to tell more but I might get out of line
When tomorrow I........can't think of anything that sounds good here....oops. Guess I didn't really think things through....uh.......so you can, eh, go do stuff....thanks for whatever it is that just happened here.

Peaceful agitation

I got 2 letters today.

The first from a firey hell-bound creature and the other from a winged beast that I believe is tethered to heaven.
They asked how I am, one with sarcasm the other with concern.
They said they enjoyed watching me but hate it when I talk to them. I question too much and am thankful for little.
They wanted to know why I'm constantly waring between them and asked that I leave them out of it.

Funny how you think you've got them on either side of you and are listening to them argue actions when in reality they aren't paying any attention at all but you keep dragging them into your turmoil. You speak for them, you blame them and neither can get your respect.

Somewhere on earth is a devil pining for his chains and angel praying for a smooth back. Meanwhile there are humans grievously vexed about which color t-shirt best compliments their skin tone.

Art of dialogue

Jerry and Linda found themselves living together after only 5 months of fore play.  Three times in the last 2 weeks and one orgasm later, they were sick of each other.
Neither felt uneasy or discomfort. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It's as if they were so easy at the start that the need for completion was just not there....ever. 
"Did you come?" she asked.
"Yeah, you?" he responded between breaths.
Emotionally tangled in a web of which their own blind and stupid spiders searched, every bit of joy they experienced, took them further and further away from the joy they didn't realize they had.
"Good stuff," He said "excellent enthusiasm."
"Uh huh." she lifted her head slightly and lowered like she had the first time they met and he saw it.
He sat up pissed "What's that supposed to mean?!"
"What do you mean baby?"
"Don't 'baby' me! You know hat the fuck I mean Linda! Don't patronize me!" He was on his naked feet groping the carpet for pants that were in the other room.
"I'm not patronizing you! I'm agreeing! That was great sex! What's your fucking problem Jerry?!" She was now up on her naked feet breezing by him, exasperated. He in hot pursuit.
She picked up his pants and her panties in one fell swoop, hitting him square in the face with his 501's.
"I don't have a problem, Lin-DUH. You're being a bitch!" After the blow to the face he couldn't remember for the life of him what they were arguing about in the first place but he was still angry and that's all that mattered because in his mind, if he was angry, she had to have done something to piss him off.
"Honey, please don't start." she pleaded, almost fully clothed while he thrashed about for a shirt. "I was just agreeing."
"Yeah right you were!" he pointed at her like a shirt should pop out of her and prove the innocence that he wanted but couldn't understand.
She stared weakly and held out her hands, void of shirt forgiveness or shirt fight. "Lets just go to bed sweety."
"I don't want to...you can't.....damnit woman! YOU'RE WRONG!! and WHAT IN THE HELL DID YOU DO WITH MY SHIRT?!?!"
She sighed heavily, sauntered over to his side, bent at the hips and nearly toppled him over when she pulled his shirt out from under his feet. It dangled from her finger tips like a tease that both aroused and infuriated him.
"Thank -YOU." He nearly smacked it out of her hand on his haphazard half strut to the couch.
The remote he now held proved to be little comfort to his bruised ego and he didn't realize she had even hit him.
She stopped on her way back to the bedroom and looked back at him lovingly.
"WHAT?!" he belted.
She lowered he eyes "Nothing." she said, walked into the bedroom and simultaneously began to disrobe and descend onto the bed.
He felt bad the instant he yelled 'what' at her. After a brief fight with himself about whether to follow her or not, he did.
He stood in the doorway looking at her figure beneath the blankets and felt thankful that his bed was occupied by such a wonderful woman. How could he have forgotten so quickly? He shed his cotton skin and as lightly as he could, slid between the sheets  and spooned the hell out of her beautiful body. She pulled his arm around her and she rubbed her face dry on the pillows.
"What's happened to us Linny?"
"I don't know Jerry, jus' hold me ok?"
They held each other.
They looked beyond the wall.
They felt their hearts break.......but didn't know why.
"Wanna go to IHOP tomorrow?" she asked
"Yeah babe. Whatever you want."

Reservation for one

A plate, a knife, some linen and wine
the time is getting late.
A tap, a scratch, a smoke, a match
patiently I wait.

The lights, the sound, the clock, I've found
are unnerving and do scare
I quit, I'm out, I'm done, won't pout
but will destroy this empty chair.