March 1, 2009 FB Status Update
shetrotsthemoon
flashdance welder by day dancer by the light of the moon




...somebody was drunk in the library again.

still gone
shetrotsthemoon
When you loved so deeply it could not be contained, you were unable to hold onto it alone, when that love forced you to share it with others so that you and they could attempt to know it together.

(no subject)
shetrotsthemoon

I just woke up in my bed and I knew I was "in my bed" that I was theoretically "at home" but I had no idea where or when, which bed I was in. I layed there thinking none of that matters you know you're in "your" so it's fine. Until I remembered.

I lucid dream so frequently I can't even be bothered to go or do anymore I just hang out and wait for things to happen to me. I swear I've been stretching and playing with these two girls from highschool for the passed three hours singing and waiting for a basketball game to start. Sometimes my team was tree and sometimes I was in St. Augustine or Mount Dora.


Pretty sure all I wanted was a great big bear hug
shetrotsthemoon
Last night I dreamt I was visiting an ex. He had completely hulked out and was also wearing a shoulder length wig that he would periodically remove and spin around on his finger. We were at his mom's house and the scene kept switching from me peeking at him while he was asleep and wanting a cuddle to the garage where I was examining his collection of tools and different kinds of gloves and imagining the purposes for each and how he looked when he used them. At one point I decided that I needed to make us something to eat so I fumbled around the kitchen for a while unable to choose which spices I should put on his tomato sandwich. Every once in a while throughout the entire dream the scenario would become too overwhelming for me and I would fall back in the 2 feet of water that filled the whole house and had apparently been there all along. I would lie on the floor beneath the water with my arms crossed over my chest like a mummy, holding my breath and watching the bubbles float to the surface watching everyone move about and interact through the water. Nobody had a problem with that. I would rise up soaking wet for a split second and out of breath. I would be dry an instant later and feel much better.

I'm a pusher.
shetrotsthemoon
I'm glad that sometimes I still feel the need to come here and get shit out. While I am, of course, still keeping a daily with my pen this is different this is faster and immediate and hypothetically public. As always, I have no idea what I am doing. I am questioning my ability to love, my understanding of love. Are my defense mechanisms so powerful that they can truly obliterate the feeling(for a time at least) or must it never have been love at all? How can I know when he is not here? Surely a true sign that it was never love is that I no longer feel his absence? Or is the weight of his absence what sends me to hide in my cabin alone under cover sometimes reading mostly sleeping craving the rest deserving of an ancient sentient being just come from creating seven universes in a month, who's only desire of the earth is that she and all of her inhabitants might drop away, trying to find him in a world that has forgotten he was here? Is that love? Or am I just tired of waiting. Right? You're far away ok so the fuck what, you know how you feel, you know what the future holds for us either way... Apart. Separate. Uncertain time distance proximity. We have no control. We can control the promises we might make to one another. So the fact that you're still talking to me and you're still saying, "I love you" leads me to believe that you feel at least one of us won't be able to live up to any sort of promise. I'm not offended, believe me, I understand. But... blah blah blah. I have no argument. I want to know whether or not we belong to one another. I think that love and that finding your love are the most important part of this existence. What does anything matter if you've no one to give everything you have to? Everything that you are? Will your dreams really mean so much to you alone and old with only stories of the women you've had, or do you still hope to meet another love greater than I? With a similar personality but a smaller dose of insanity who plays an instrument, has a tighter pussy and washes her hair more than once a week.

I've been trying to let you go... I've been trying to forget you because I think you'll eventually forget me. I hate that this is all I write about, but I'm afraid it's the only thing in this fucked up place that I can make right. I also feel that once I've sorted this out, with whoever he may be, then the two of us together might be able to change our surroundings and find ways to make differences.

I'm sure this won't work out, I'm sure you'll get sick or find her and forget me... So I push. What happens when we see each other and it's gone. I know, I've done this too many times, I've believed in the impossible and sought after and was destroyed and I can't say that I came out stronger and I can't say that I came out the same. But I did love you. Whoever you are. Whenever you are.

“I don't want to live, I want to love first and live incidentally.”
Zelda Fitzgerald

Hi, my name is May. Please don't sleep with me because I am crazy and I will ruin your life.
shetrotsthemoon
And sometimes you just have to say to yourself, "yes" there's mud under my fingernails and I have to write. You can't just expect words and magic to happen, magic is a force of the will and you must make a conscious decision to evoke its power.

I know that genius is insanity, I know that I don't want to be cured, I just want to be able to control myself. I don't want to talk about my problems and have someone teach my how to be normal and accept society as the rule and show me how to follow. I don't want to lie, but I also don't know if it's entirely fair that I should have to announce my lack of sanity at the start of each beginning with another human. I certainly don't want to be crazy, I don't try to be crazy.

Oh great you think I'm cool, sorry about that because I'm fucking nuts. Ya, I know, you can't love that.

I've been thinking about, or I thought about it for almost five minutes yesterday, the connection between scent and memory. I know its power and I know how it will time travel you right outside your mind to places you have actively forgotten, and then you take a two hour cab ride to the inside of a volcano and the comparisons to Yellowstone out of guides mouths never cease, and all you can smell is sulfur rotten eggs and secret farts and you see him in his giant khaki shorts and keens running over boardwalk between geysers at midnight shouting nonsense to scare off the bears. And your scent's memory becomes more than just a time machine but a log, an account, a membrane grainy journal of the places you've been and the things and the people you've been close enough with to smell.
And now it's romantic, now in your head, in your past it can be a thing between the two of you; even though at the time and the truth Jason was there and you have no idea how he smells.

I am haunted, but only by ghosts I love.

It's good for you.
shetrotsthemoon
It comes
And moves
Over
In sweeps,
Brushing her with
The feel of him,
Slipping over skin,
Seeping out from eyes,
Mouth.
Nothing more than
A word, a laugh
Brings him back.
He arrives in a sigh,
And in her smile, peering out through teeth
Tickling her tongue to laughter with his memory.
This nothing grin
Being the fullest,
The most.
Swallowing everything.
The least like nothing
Anything has ever been.
Not loss, not empty longing,
But a spill-
Over pouring and powering till
“Oh joy!”
She coos aloud to think,
Paddling in the depths
Of her satiating reverie.

Dixie Cigarette.
shetrotsthemoon
I have very recently purchased the Microsoft Surface. It hasn't been love at first sight...but the more I play and poke, the more I'm feeling like I'm starting to fall. And I haven't been here in a long time, and I haven't thought a thought worth thinking in probably longer. I came here hoping that something might be different if I tried. Wondering if my lack of inspiration was due to a lack of trying, a lack of effort. I can't keep whining about having nothing to say.

I will start with the truth. I think my relationship is doomed to fail.
We started with sex, because I always start with sex.
And blah blah blah rush rush rush....here we are 6 months later... after living together, we're settled into a long distance relationship in which the only thing we have to say to one another is I love you, I miss you... except I'm not sure how that happens when we have nothing in common besides mutual magic orgasms.

Is that important? More importantly, is that necessary? It certainly helps I'm sure.

He makes me feel...everything, from shittiest shit to disturbingly too too heavenly adored... without saying a word.
Nothing about that sounds healthy.
When I think about it, of course, I'm the one making myself feel shitty by constantly reassessing and over analyzing whatever happens between us, wondering am I enough, how can I be better and that obviously all comes down to not loving and accepting myself or some such nonsense, which circles around to how completely obsessed with me I know I am!
What am I worried about, that he doesn't agree?!
Surely the whole English as a second language thing isn't working in our favor.

Lately, I have been considering therapy.
An unbiased intelligent viewpoint.
It'd probably be the most ridiculous waste of money that anyone ever set on fire because I think I'm smarter than everyone... in general and what not.

The problem is not that I am not in love. I don't want to be with anyone else, I don't want to play with anyone else, but I don't understand how that is possible. Which is probably where my fear that he doesn't truly love me grows. If I don't understand my feelings for him, how could I possibly accept that his heart belongs to me.

Also, none of this means anything.
I guess it means a little bit, but its main purpose was to allow me to practice on my teeny new keyboard in the hopes that literary genius would sporadically insanely flare up for the first time in years.
I'm bored with myself, my life, my friends.
I'm torn between disgust and infatuation with who I am and I've explored that theme so close to the brink of delusion and deprecation it makes me nauseous.

I like this keyboard.

I will try to read more things that will make me think.
I will not always listen to the same music I have been obsessed with for the past 5 years.
I will make new friends.
I will put myself before my boyfriend.
I will eat less cookies.
I will start actually working for the things that I want, rather than expect them to happen just because I want them.

6 days until I see my sweetheart.
10 days until I see my Sandra.

Every day, at least 20 times I day, I go on facebook to see if he's written. He never has.
We Skype about once a week. Skyping which consists of roughly 10 minutes dedicated to our devotion and longing, while we fill the rest of the hour with our faces in the tiny side windows so they don't block the more captivating adventures the rest of the whole wide internet has to offer.

I find this arrangement to be extremely upsetting; however, not as upsetting as the fact that this is the way he prefers our relationship.

Somewhere in my mind I'm going and forth between one of us not really being in love with the other. I'm probably right about both. Why does that bother me so much?
Is it because I want to be in love?
Am I too proud to admit that I figured out I'm not in love when I was originally so sure?
Am I lying to myself when I purport that I'm the one who is not in love but really I know that he's the one who doesn't love me and when he finally admits it I'll be crushed?

I'm completely faithless.
Also, I probably need glasses.

Go to the boneyard
shetrotsthemoon
They started to tear it down piece by piece with hammers and bloody fingers I got my chunk, my trophy; then came the guard, not knowing what else to do I asked him if he wanted some he said, "I've been looking at this shit for 10 years, take it and go."

twenty eleven
shetrotsthemoon
Oh love I can't claim, you put demons inside only you can remove. Wrap symbols round my neck, bind the spirit in a ritual dance dervish lusty grove. Place hands and lips ignorant of calming or burning skin. Blessed mouth, soothe and control this possession, question and command my response, hasten deliverce from this delightful curse. You are the devil in the form of blue light circling my head as I simmer in burning coal. Ask it, "why are you kept within the possessed?" Saying words I wished I heard, holding me in captivity. I talk to walls tell them how I miss a person to walk with. This love has a soul, an agenda of its own, meeting crazies and acting mad loving all of the abstract creating unreality and reveling in possibility waking me from sleep with visions of what could be. Surrounded and confused where are you when I need you? Come to me dream lover, give me tastes to get through this wait. Ache with me, kiss smiles on my face Flaplove in my chest. Imagine your fingers between mine limbs twine. See you toss in sleep and how your hair looks in waking under watchful lights. Single minded to the point of recklessness, desperate for arms to hold me, choke me. Arms refusing to let go. Need to be kissed, need to kiss when kisses cross my lips, need to give and take and give by taking everything. How she babbles and such. Oh dear, I've said too much.
Goodnight sweet boy.

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