A few months ago I downgraded my celibacy status from active to ho-hum. It occurred to me that last year’s round of “conscious celibacy” only lasted so long as I wasn’t seeing anyone I wanted to rub bits with. So that’s not really the point, is it? If I’d run into someone totally compelling I’d have chucked it, cos, well, that’s what I did after nine months.

It was a really handy thing to tell people who wanted to date me. I miss that. It would’ve come in handy a few times recently. I’m going out to coffee, maybe, today. He wants to meet me and I want to meet him (he’s funnier’n hell), but I don’t want to “do” him, kwim? I’m already in an ongoing “let’s do coffee” thing with someone I’ve been keeping at arm’s length. I really like hanging, you know, but, well, whatever. But I like to get out, and I like these people, they just happen to be male people, with “needs” and moustaches. I don’t date moustaches, you know? Scruffy growth quite does it for me, but a planned upper lip-scaping so does not.

I could just tell people I don’t do moustaches (and send them to Fodon) or I could just get over myself and stop thinking I’m the end-all, be-all. Maybe they’ll hate my eyeliner.

this night is mine

how can I sleep
when there are blank pages
and the backs of envelopes fill
with the seeds of (maybe)
ideas

how can I
sleep as minds drop away with each moment
clearing the
air full of //ideas//
without the grasping chatter

how
can I sleep when
I have ascended to the pinnacle
of this [every] day
transcending –finally– circumstance
Sysyphus in a minivan

loquacity

all these words
are effluence
clogging the arteries of consciousness
stringing together (((placeholders)))
to create a space
signifying
the quiet felt
in small moments

slavishly seeking
theoneword
that will connect us to
everything

silence

with shoes!

and The Manolo
there’s something for everyone, even Drowning Not Waving: Manolo has the Hoff!

I never thought it could happen to me… ahh, l’amour!

the perfect shoes to go with my to-the-wedding outfit. I won’t be buying them as they are Loubouton and over $600. plus I’m sure I’d have no idea how to walk in them, let alone dance.

for not unsubbing from me.

I lost two subs this week. I notice cos the number’s been stable for a long time. sigh.
it’s not that big a deal but it does give me pause.

I had a bad dream last night, that my middle daughter was being stalked and I had to protect her. in my dream I eventually found out the reason: she was being stalked because the stalker read my blog for an extended period of time and was angry at how boring I had become.

nice. welcome to the subconscious of My Big Ego.

I look around the room and realize
there’s no one looking in my eyes
to see anything– how far I have to fall

inside my head the voice appears
the one I’ve heard for all these years
the one that tells me now it’s time to go

sometimes it’s up, sometimes it’s down
on the porch or in the town
and now I’ve learned to listen without thought

you could do in the kitchen
you could do it in the hall
you could do it with a razor
or a rope high on the wall
you could do it with a toaster
drop it in in the running bath
but then the voice would have the final laugh

so I gave up trying not to listen
or then I’d never know the reason
why my head has plans that aren’t mine

I’ve talked to the professionals
had midnight girl confessionals
we’ve come to the conclusion that I’m sane

but still in moments by myself
even when there’s someone else
these thoughts I have come back to torture me

still I’m looking all around me
and I’m aw’flly glad I found me
cos I know that I will never do the deed

it’s just cold here all alone
no one’s ringing up my phone
cos they just don’t know how I far I have to fall

If wishes and buts were clusters of nuts, we’d all have a bowl of granola.
–Amy Sedaris