Let’s be the Bonnie and Clyde of authors—
Would that be Bukowski and Sylvia Plath?
Or maybe Hemingway and Virginia Woolfe?
But I’m the orphaned love-child of Bukowski and Plath,
A seed planted in the Bell jar that stood beside the bed
Covered in tangled sheets and sweaty limbs,
Grinding groins and panted meter.
So I guess

we

can’t be them…

because I already am.

The Bored Housewife Chronicles, at last

I've spent some time editing and arranging selected Fantasy Friday posts, regular posts, and short stories from the Bored Housewife years into a collection, and it's for sale on amazon.com as an e book. Shortly, it will also be available in paperback.

Mostly, I've done this as a way to inspire myself to continue writing, and to memorialize the time I spent here in Blog Land...it feels like a whole separate lifetime.

I used a pseudonym, in the hopes of maintaining some sense of anonymity, but I'll probably end up telling everyone I know, anyway...ha.

Here is the link, if you want to see my (pen) name in print!! Kind of fun...

Not trying to hawk my wares, so to speak, but would really love if anyone wants to leave a review. You've all read it already, no need to buy.

(yes, I'm whatever the inverse of "natural salesman" is, why do you ask?? haha!)

(and definitely weird to see a pen name instead of MY name. Might have to change that...)

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007JE6C5M

Happy Daylight Savings to you all...grumble...yawn....
(update: I couldn't handle not using my real name, so, yeah...)

It's raining, it's pouring...

My Love works nights about the half the time,
so tonight it is just me and four cats on this big ole bed.
I can hear peepers outside, and crickets or something.
I love how alive this place is.
This is NOT city living, that's for damn sure!
The country is loud with quiet...
And there are so many stars here it make me wish I had a telescope to see them more clearly!
I love it.

Trying to think of more intersting things, but all that comes to mind are my worries.
I guess that's just how life is.

Instead, here's a story I started writing the other day.
Just sorta rolled off my tongue, but with some editing and a few more pages, it could be a cool little story. Or first chapter to a book.........

She wasn't the only one there with tattoos and cut-offs, but she managed to look the sleaziest. Maybe it was the dark eye makeup, or the unexpectedness of so many lines on the childish face. She had a skinned knee and a hole just under the back pocket of her ill-fitting shorts, but there appeared to be knitting needles sticking out of the lumpy backpack she carried. She had something nondescript sprawled across her lower back, ink stains on skin, but the rose tattoo on her ankle was the final piece of the jumbled timeline. The rose was straight out of the 70s, but this girl's mother was probably too young for a tattoo in the 70s. Her name, obviously, was Crystal. What other name would a girl like this have? The dirt under her fingernails hinted at something, but the cigarette clasped between those fingers was what really drew the eye. She held it like a child holds a crayon, her fist curled around it, shoving it into her rotten, ragged-looking mouth.

The jukebox stopped and in the silence, other senses were sharpened--the grit on the floor could be felt inside shoes, while the scent of stale smoke and unwashed armpits was almost a taste, and made several patrons blink. The silence also left room for the Jimmy the bartender to notice this squalid presence, this aged child.

"You got some ID, junior?"

Crystal swatted the fly that had landed on the back of her cigarette hand. She looked into his grey, drooping eyes and said nothing.

"Look, I gotta see some ID or they'll shut me down. And I can't afford that shit again this month." He braced his hands against the bar, holding his ground.

She sighed and reached into her backpack. She tossed something hat looked like a receipt, or an invoice onto the polished wood stretched out before her.

After his eyes skimmed the paper, Jimmy cocked one eyebrow, smoothed his mustache with one large hand, and gave it back to her. Mostly to himself he said, "Well that explains a lot," shook his head slightly and met her eyes again. "What'll it be?"

She coughed from somewhere deep in her lungs and pointed to the Budweiser sign behind him. "Light," she amended.

"Three bucks." They completed the exchange in silence and she took the bottle to the far corner of the room. Sometime during that slow-motion exchange, the jukebox had started up again, same song as before. There was a dull buzz of conversation, but most people were edging away from Crystal's booth.

Crystal put the bottle to her lips and let the cool crispness wash through her mouth, her scattered thoughts each fighting for center stage. She didn't really want to be here, in a crappy bar full of crappy drunks, each making some version of a crappy judgment of her. She could feel their disapproval, smell their loathing. But she didn't know how she must look to them. She didn't know they could see her life spelled out in the way she walked, the breaths she drew. She lived inside her own head and had very little use for anyone in the outside world. She needed something, though, and she had decided that this might be a place she could find it, or get closer to finding it.

The scene before her seemed convex, with all the people clustered at the center of the warped vision. She sipped at the brown, sweating bottle until the scene stabilized and she was able to see each person separately.

Breathless

Just a little story from my time as a single woman in America...
Dating was always one of my greatest pleasures!

Too many drinks, too many smokes....
music--every song the soundtrack to your eyes on mine...
your skin on mine.
we stumble to a room, a mattress on the floor.
candles cover every surface,
a fleeting thought to light them is replaced with your lips on mine.
where are we?--another fleeting thought replaced with your hand on my bare stomach, pushing my shirt higher.
the music is loud, the smoke heavy, softening the edges of everything.
you ask to see my tattoo.
i unbutton my pants, opening them to reveal my hip to you...
you kneel, kissing...your hands on my waist.
showing so much restraint, creating so much heat....
we are so young, so unsure.
breathless.
you look up at me, head cocked, questioning.
i nod slightly, my breathing turns shallow.
you slide my pants down, i step out.
you stand, pulling your t-shirt over your head.
you kiss me on the mouth, both of us suddenly aware of so much skin, a closed door, a bed...
i touch your chest with a tenative hand, the thrill from it reaching my toes.
our kisses open our minds and bodies to each other--and close out all else.
the music stops for a moment, and we hear voices.
we pause, looking into each other's eyes--by mistake, almost.
the shyness nearly returns,
but the music starts again and we make our way to that bed on the floor, shedding clothes along the way.
all of your skin on all of mine, the kissing continues, each of us afraid to take the next step.
you say my name and my stomach flips.
i look at you, mouth open ready to speak...
you say your name with a soft smile, for the first time that evening.
my hands go to your purposely-messy hair, a thumb tracing your studded earlobe.
your hand strays down my side, hesitantly inching inward...
i let out a soft moan as your fingers find their mark.
i reach down to touch....you...so smooth...
both of us ready, both of us hesitant.
i spread my legs wider, you sink in.
we both sigh.
moving together in a rhythm so soft and sure, that it seems we've done this a thousand times.
in that moment i know it is the future i'm feeling and not the past.
you know it too, and smile, saying my name again, the breath it takes tickling my ear.
your hands are soft and have found all the right places, this interlocking opening the store of memories yet to come.
we have become a sweating writhing tangle of limbs, with tunnel vision.
my nails find your back, your lips find my breasts, we are lost in this maze.
it builds to a frenzy of need, being released only by the waves of ecstasy which wash over us together.

Moaning Monday

So that Girls Night Out/Toy Party was a hoot and a holler.
We had so much fun and I even learned a few things--surprisingly!
Most of the products they showed were things I had seen before or used before,
but there were a couple of new twists on old things.
The highlight of the evening was the presenter demonstrating the use of some straps on a guest of the party, and also the penis ice sculpture adorning the food table.
Ice has never made my mouth water more...

I have a ton to do today, but I couldn't leave you empty handed.
So to speak.
Here's one of my favorites, about the fun of dating...


Office Surprise
When you get back from lunch, make sure to close that office door behind you.
And when you sit down, don't slide your legs all the way under your desk.
...there won't be room.
You'll know i'm there, but we won't say a word.
I reach up, and unzip your pants as you phone the secretary asking her to hold your calls.
you're hard already, your heart beating as fast as the rhythm in my ears.
I am careful, but quick--we could be interupted at any moment.
opening wide, i take as much into my mouth as i can, swirling my tongue around...
massaging so softly--yet firmly--with my hand, making a harmony of pleasure.
you lean back in your chair, a rough sigh escapes your lips.
my breathing becomes louder, i'm so aroused it takes all of my self control to not climb onto your ready lap.
...remove those glasses, tousle that hair....
but i don't.
i stay where i am, and continue licking--you're almost there.
you grasp your arm rests, knuckles turning white...another sound pushes out of your throat...
and i swallow every drop of your warm saltiness.
you sit back with a content sigh, as i crawl out, my thumb wiping the last trace of you from my lips.
i stand, straighten my clothes, my hair, wink--then turn and walk out the door.

Monday nights are for being...

Just being.

I was going to take a bath
But I got sidetracked by taking sexy pictures
And falling in love with the comfort of my bed,
sideways.
And now I'm listening to the Juno soundtrack....
And I am smiling at the upbeat melancholy of the sounds surrounding me.

Night skiing is a lot like night swimming...
We had shots of whiskey as we rode up the mountain,
(we had numb fingers as we rocked in the chairlift).
I had lines of poetry, somewhere in there--
but I lost them when the stars came out and
I can't find them now (because the sun came out).

Skiing in muted tones,
under the big lamps
under the small stars--
the snow feels different in the shadows,
the air feels different with no rays of light in it.
And into my ears melt the notes of "Nightswimming"...
I smile, and think, Yeah...
Then I swish
slowly
down the slope...

The end of an era...

I just realized that tonight is the last night of my official run as a housewife.
I am buzzing with excitement--
or is that just the plum wine I'm sipping while dinner cooks?
Either way.
It is worthy of celebration.
While I was grateful for the opportunity to stay home with my little dears,
there is something to be said for going out in the world and being a part of the whole circle of capitalism, ya know??

Might I take a moment to interject a little something off the subject?
I hate a lot of things about MySpace--from the insecure way they ask you every time you do anything, "Are you sure you want to________?" (add that friend, that song, post that comment), to the difficulties that arise with editing the html--come the fuck on, people, just let me edit my goddamned template!!
So anyway...what annoys me the very most is right here in the blog function. See, I have this styyyyyle, man, this grooove.
I have a WAY I do things, ya dig?
I type a post like it's a poem, no matter what I'm saying;
I can't help it, it's just how I roll.
Yo.
HOWEVER.
In this particular stupid-ass editing window, I can't just hit "enter" and get a return.
Oh no.
I must hit "shift" and "enter" to get a normal "enter".
WHY?????
Dear, god, tell me why!!!!
It makes no sense.
So, like, Tom, you dirty bastard, if you are out there, listening, could you pretty please, with sugar to be licked off a stripper's nipples on top, make it an option to just have NORMAL key functions in this shit hole????
Thanks.

Uh....
Wow.
Who knew 5 and a half sips of plum wine would turn me into an irate little pumpkin pie maker???
(I made pumpkin pie today)

Odd.
Well, I came here to write about something...but now the timer is beeping loudly in my plum wine-dazzled ears, and I should go remove the garlic, mushroom and spinach pizza from the oven before it burns.

Ok, I removed the pizza and now I'm back.
I also ate the pizza, and it was good.
The kids were not as impressed with the gentle mixing of flavors as I was, but that's just tough.
Now that picky-eatin' daddy is out of the picture, I'll cook what I damn well please!!!
Wooo, that feels good!
There are so many things I can do now, it's awesome.
Like, have a job, for example...
I can't even tell you how wonderful it feels to know that I will have something else in this world that I'm responsible for other than my own home....
and when people ask what I do, I can say, "I write marketing materials for a software company!!!!"
And sadly, yes, I'll probably have four exclamation points worth of enthusiasm when sharing that news.

I have so many great ideas about how to navigate my newly reset future that I can hardly sit still.
I must, though.
I must find that quiet place inside and really think, really feel to figure out my next step.
I need to commit to a vision and run with it.

Also, I could use an ice cube.
Someone's eagerness for that pizza may have interfered with her mouth's intentions to not get burned...

Drunk on a Weeknight, Part 2

Lordy, I'm blessed with a great babysitter.
Who was I talking to...someone asked where my kids were.
It felt almost accusatory.
With their favorite babysitter who plays with them and has a great time with them, asswipe.
I wish I could remember who it was...
Anyway, great night.
I did not get a hangover today, and that was such a miraculous and joyful experience that I decided to try it again.
We shall see.

Tonight there was a pool tournament at a very smoky small place.
There was a tiny little pixie of a girl, celebrating her birthday, so genuine and dear.
And toothless Mark, who got more than just his two front ones for christmas; he looks like a new man.

And the kid who thought he knew me, but he didn't.
Or maybe that was a pickup line....? ha. maybe.
But he looked familiar, and his last name wasn't Durden, but I checked, cuz Tylers must get that a lot.
and then when I say I'm a writer, i get a good lesson in why not to be quite so pretentious because you wouldn't believe how often people will say, "oh, everyone tells me that I should write a book about my life."
No.
Sorry, dude.
Your life is just your life, and it's not that special.
You gotta have soul, you gotta have purpose.
Why the fuck do you think I haven't written a book yet, and why the fuck do you think there aren't 8 million memoirs lining the shelves?
No one cares that you did drugs and now you don't. Whoopdee frigggin doo. It's how the story's told that matters.
I'm an asshole, aren't I?
Yes, but that's just my attempt at balancing my life because you see, I was married to an asshole and now I'm not, so therefore I need to be both the asshole and the sweetheart, kind of like being both the mother and the father. Ha. That was a bad joke. Truly terrible.
But I'm good at terrible jokes.
And I'm terrible at good jokes.
But more than that, I'm terrible at pool.
And suddenly I have to pee and want some food and I want to stay up all night watching movies, but I'll be asleep 5 minutes after I get in bed, and for the moment I wish I had a man in my bed for just those 5 minutes, so I could grind into him and then kick him out. With a wink. Never would I really just gobble up and discard a precious Man Creature--they are delicacies to be enjoyed for a long time...haha!

I had something to say about the rockstar-pimp that frequents the bar we went to, something about how his hotness sizzles across the room and leaves you with freezer burn along the length of your neck and up into the corners of your mouth, your tongue dancing in your mouth, trying to leap out and down his throat or his pants or dear god, wherever he wants it---
fuck, he was god-like.
And his wife makes me seriously reconsider my sexual orientation.
They are this power couple, of hotness.
Fortunately she is amiable and inclusive and we hit it off...actually we pissed off the God of Sex by cheering her on in her victory against him in pool. I must have been drunk because I was very comfortable joking with him about the scowl on his face as she whomped him. And I must not have been very drunk because I didn't even once ask him if I could lick him.
Which is what I wanted to do.
Anywhere--hell, I'd lick his elbow, just let me touch that skin!
Ok, someone's horny.
not mentioning any names, but her initials are--
me.

I'm just glad I got my drinking out of the way early.
Now I can stay home and watch movies all weekend in my pajamas...
It's going to snow from now until next month.
February starts in about 6 days, but that's still a lot of snow.
Good for the skiing, right?
I wonder if I'll be divorced by then?
I will celebrate by buying a plane ticket to Hawaii.
I have friends there--
a dear friend whose husband is forever in my heart because he knows my beautiful sister and he dubbed ME the "prettier sister"! No. Way. Lived my life in her shadow, folks, and that explains a lot doesn't it?? But the point is, I'll never forget that Irish bastard for sharing his preference. Sniff. I love you guys!!!

Ok....
I'm going....
good night.....

Who gets drunk on a Wednesday night?

Oh yeah...
Me.

Not very often, mind you, but this time.
Yes.
I did.
And now my emotions are taking me hostage.
I am crying, lamenting the fate of my one true love--
he made commitments before he knew I existed,
before I knew he would complement my soul like a geometry problem.

It is 11:11 right now...
make a wish.

We had a great time tonight, becky and I.
We laughed and played darts
and laughed and tried to play pool...
she succeeded; I failed.
Heh.
I chose great jukebox songs and earlier I cooked a delicious dinner.
We were the only women there, well, besides the bar hags, but seriously, they don't count...
and dear universe, please let me never be a bar hag.
haha!!
Let me never be old and alone and inahling smoke every night cuz the walls of my home are too close, the staleness of the air more foul then second-hand lung cancer.
Let me glory in the beauty of love and then settle into its warm embrace for the next 50-60 years.
Let me find someone
...else.
I know, universe, I know you already gave me the most precious and magical gift you could conceive of--and that's saying a lot--but that gift, well, as it turns out that gift was more of a taunt....cuz I can't hold that gift and I can't smell the skin on the neck of that gift, and that gift can't kiss the small of my back and hold me tight when I cry.
I hate you universe for showing me everything I want and then hiding it so far away from me that I can never even feel the light reflecting off my gift, SEE my gift with my own eyes.
What's the point of any of this, if perfection is shown to me and kept away?

My heart breaks for Cameron for Blaine and for You.
I guess that's what I get for getting drunk on a Wednesday night.

Why is this blog so goddamn depressing these days???
I swear on the lives of all that I love: I am cheerful most of the time!!!
I am, I am.
But for some reason, I come here and out it pours.

I went skiing today, after hemming and hawing over whether or not to go.
I finally got there and as I approached the lift, I saw him.
The one that usually makes my heart soar.
For some reason, seeing him caused me to grimace.
And then as I exchanged smiles and words and landed on the chair that would carry me up the mountain,
a snarl began to grow in my chest.
And I worked my way down the intermediate slope without grace, stopping to take a picture for the kid doing the jump; I think it came out fabulously.
Stopping again to take off my skis and walk past the steep part because I was too growly to attempt it.
I think it's time to admit that he's only perfect when he's with me and that's not nearly often enough for my liking.
I want to spend more time with him--see him, taste him, soak up his presence.
I left after 3 runs, without saying goodbye.
I snatched my beloved Pearl jam from the dash and frantically searched my CDs for something more...screamable.
I found something, fortunately.
And I wailed my way down the mountain, angrily shouting along with Buckcherry and Rob Zombie...
It felt good and then I couldn't remember why I was so angry...there wasn't a reason.
He did nothing wrong, I just.
Just.
I dared to be open for love, so fast, so soon and then?
Then he wasn't quite ready, so it was like being rejected and that just shuts down love and I'm too drunk to be typing.
My head is spinning and I want to shower all this smoke off my body, my body which I love, my body which is beautiful in its smoothness, firmness, curviness.......
I wish You were here, always.
I wish I didn't love myself so much, so maybe I could settle for someone else loving me less. But I am fantastic and I want to be with someone who agrees. That's the whole point of this divorce situation...
fck mefuck me fuck me
fuck this

I will go to bed now.
shower first.
drink olots of water.
sick of fixing typos.
Better not be hung over in case I want to ski tomororw.
not at His mountain. At mine.
He doesn't want me around anyway.
fuck him.

fuck this
fcuk mfuck fuck.





fuck.

They call me Mellow Yellow...

quite right.

No, they really don't call me that.
I know I've mentioned this before, but I really have no clue who "they" are, anyway.
I do, however, wish they would quit being so opinionated and involved in everything.
Damn meddlers.

Good weekend, overall.
Spent some quality time with the kids yesterday, or rather, let them spend some quality time with their friends at an indoor jump around and be crazy place.
It was awesome.

I did not make it skiing Thursday, because I realized I had some grocery shopping to do and I sort of lollygagged around and missed the window of opportunity in which to go skiing...
I'm such a day dreamer sometimes.
Anyway, I may try again tomorrow.
My horoscope suggested that I be responsible tomorrow instead of giving in to my urge to play, but who really takes those things seriously???
So.
We'll see.

Today was a day of cooking and lounging.
It was lovely.
I played with the kids some, and fed them a gorgeous dinner--
which, oddly enough, they appreciated!
They always do...and yet it never fails to move me and shock me that they are aware of the difference between Mom's Juicy Roast Beef and Freshly Mashed Potatoes and macaroni and cheese from a box...
Ok, it shouldn't shock me; they are NOT morons.
Anyway, it's cool to be appreciated.

I wish my head would stop spinning.
I am excited for this beautiful, fresh new year.
It's going to be a magical one, I can tell!

Well, well, well...

The Almost-Ex sent me the divorce papers last night.
Everything looks good.
We could be officially divorced in as little as 2 weeks.
Again I find myself with memories rushing down on me, and disbelief.
My future has been wrenched out of my grasp, but only because I wasn't holding on to it.
The thoughts fill my mind, without permission, of all the ways I could have done this better, could have made it work.
And how could I have made it work?
I could have changed the very last speck of Who I Am.
But that just wouldn't do, now would it?
Fuck no.
So now I smile again; see how quickly I can work through this stuff??
(Ok, maybe it helps that I initially wrote that little section in an email to my Dearest friend, who knows the patterns of my soul like the route to work...but either way, writing it cheered me up.)

I am trying to decide what to do with my possible last day of mid-week freedom...
Something about having a job is so thrilling to me!
I know, you guys think I'm crazy.
I just miss being a part of a team and I miss that satisfying feeling of earning money!!!!
I haven't had a real paycheck in 7 years!
The newspaper was fun, but it didn't really pay.
With a job on the horizon and the divorce cruising right along, my financial worries are alleviated, just like that.
I mean, let's don't forget: I've been a tad bit pampered the past few years and haven't had any involvement in my family's finances for nearly ten years...
It always felt a little weird, frankly.
And I am STOKED to be responsible for myself: instead of under his thumb.
I could possibly still take one class...
And maybe I will meditate on that.

It's weird, I don't feel like I have a voice anymore, in writing.
Maybe it's because I'm too accustomed to it, so it doesn't startle me anymore, but maybe it's just gone.

Whatever.

Anyway, the kids don't have school tomorrow so today is my (possible) last day of mid-week freedom, as I was saying.
I really want to go skiing....
Or I could clean/organize the Christmas vomit that has taken over the guest room.
Or I could get in bed and watch movies all day.
Or I could go grocery shopping and to the gym...
Hm.
If I'm going to ski I better commit to it pretty damn fast or it won't be worth my time to go.

Rambling and disjointed?
Who me???
Nah.
Have a great day--

Melancholic Monday

Sometimes I feel like You are a song I wrote,
but then I realize it must have been a collaboration,
and I feel a great sense of loss--
you were never really Mine.

But the sun is shining and I have lots to do, so I shall do it!

I went skiing yesterday--and this time I took a friend.
A friend who is a seasoned skier!
Yaay!
A friend who was very patient and very kind in instructing me.
In other words: I got my sea legs back!
I am ready to ski.
I am happily sore and ready to go back again and again until I get very comfortable.

My thoughts are not the most cheerful today.
I feel...a heightened sense of awareness that my husband replaced me and hasn't looked back.
I worry that he is not dealing with this properly, and I also worry that he is trying to change the financial arrangements, the secrurity of which has made it possible for me to not spiral into black depression.
I mean, money is low on my list of priorities in life, but it sure is nice to be able to feed the kids and drive a dependable car and live in a nice little house.
I fear his resentment is growing and his commitment to being "fair" is slipping.
I fear he is hiding money and lying about stuff.

He's probably just mad that I'm not suffering.

I refuse to be eaten up by worries.
I will continue to look for a job so that I feel less dependent on him and more in control of my own future!
I need to decide in the next couple of days whether I can pay for school or not.
I am applying for financial aid, but it's too late for this semester.
Welcome to reality, Lisa.
It's a little scary at times, but mostly I am excited to be a part of the world again.

I am in love--

With Regina Spektor, sillies.
This woman continues to move me like a U-haul.
But...
if you must know...
I'm pretty content with My So-Called (Love) Life at this precise moment.
I feel calmer, more centered;
yet--
more alive.
This man.
Yes, I've graduated him from the casual term of endearment, "boy", to the more Real term, "man".

I feel.....
like the beach instead of the waves right now.
Smooth, warm, stable...if ever-shifting.

Just spent 2 hours on the phone with the dear friend who lived here for the month of November.
Miss her!
Love that baby of hers.
And she gave me the BEST fuckin' epiphany just before we hung up.
Rock that shit.
It was so amazing.
And I"m going to write it down so I don't forget, and then
I'm going to go to Sh's house and play Tetris til the break of dawn!
Epiphany:
The reason the universe has thrown this perfect man into my lap and then made him unavailable is that I need (in a desert/rain manner) to learn to be ok with me and I need the space to pursue my interests and spend time with friends and--
oh, this doesn't even sound cool on paper, but it's sparky in my head, so whatever.
More later?

The newest addition to my art collection:

One of my faaaavorite artists, who happens to have both a beautiful soul and a beautiful face to match her beautiful creations!
(for the record, I got it for a STEAL at on auction...)

HAAAAAAA

ppy New Year!!!

I hope this isn't an omen, but I am hungover and my cold has cranked up a notch or twelve.
I feel like shiiiiiiit.
But I choose to believe this is just the last of the previous year's ickiness being purged from my body before I move fully into this fresh, new year!

I think I had some cool shit to say, but then my congested chest and sinuses sort of choked the words from my grasp.
Oh well.

I think I'll snuggle back into my soft, warm bed and watch Hairy P0tter.

Why do I only come here when my thoughts are churning like a tornado on crack???

Oh yeah...
maybe it's because I think best with my fingers.
It's not very convenient; especially for verbal communications.
Gah.
Why do I keep trying so hard to fuck up my budding relationship???
Answer: probably because I'm not really ready for a new Relationship.
In case you hadn't noticed, it takes a lot of work to sustain one of those over time.
Yeah, I know, it's a shocker.
A fucking new idea, man.
And I'm pretty much tapped on from that last one...
but my reserves are building and I know what it takes, but maybe that's the problem...?
I know too well what it takes...I get tired just thinking about it.

The thing is...
I know I'm worth more of his attention, I just know it.
And I know he digs me.
He really does.
SO WHAT THE BLOODY FUCKING HELL IS THE ISSUE??????
Yes, that is what I would like to scream at him.
But I don't.
I just smile and nod and play Pleasant/Polite/PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE.
Hey, Lisa?
STOP IT.
Speak your mind, you fucking moron, tell him it is NOT OK that he is never available.
(yes, I'm chastising myself here--stand back)
But no, I don't.
I wait until I've hung up and the tears jump out of my eyes and the sobs leap out of my throat and I find myself sitting on the floor in my pitch-dark bathroom, the traffic on my emotional highway merging from sad into angry.
And then, when anger arrives I text him.
Because, don't forget, I'M PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE as a motherfucker.
I don't even know what I want anymore.
Him.
I want him.
And I know he wants me, but Jesus hairy ball sack Christ!
Why didn't someone warn me that dating is PURE, CRYSTALIZED HELL ON EARTH????
God dammit.
Give me back my shitty and unfulfilling marriage cuz I can't take this torture anymore!!!!
I'll call you tomorrow when I'm not so tired. We should talk.
Uh, yeah. Are ya sure??
I mean, technically there are two hours and 31 minutes left in today, the "tomorrow" you mentioned, but no.
Not a word from you.
My hair happens to look so fucking great right now that I'm considering heading out to the neighborhood bar just to let someone else look at me, I mean, they probably don't deserve to be graced with my beauty, but shit, this kind of hair day doesn't happen every...day....that felt redundant.
But whatever.
Not that this is about my hair, or my appearance at all, but still.
At least I have a date for New Year's Eve.
A guy friend who wants to date me...but ya know...I'm hung up on this other fella so it's hard to see him as more than a friend.
It's hard to see anyone else that asks me out as anything but a weak and unsatisfactory replacement for this other fella.
But I guess that's what I get.
That's my punishment for expecting divorce to make me happier.
Divorce is supposed to make you miserable, right??
Right.
So bring it the fuck on, universe--
I'm ready for your worst!

Yeah.

I just want to quiet the inner turmoil.
Feed the demons, etc.
But...that's not what I want.
I want to be happy, I want to be in love.
But maybe the two are mutually exclusive for me, for now.
And maybe this is why I have avoided being in love for the past 14 years...
Because, goddammit, opening oneself up to love deeply just opens oneself up to excruciating pain.
What happened to that Embracing All Emotions attitude that I adopted to nobly face my life as an "artist"?
Yeah.
It's hiding somewhere far away and refuses to grace me with its humble presence and I am cringing here in the bright light of Reality while waiting for the screaming masses of Crazy to descend upon me, as they would if I were really an artist.

Well.
...time for a check-in with the Bright Side Seekers committe, the Silver Panty Liner Gals--
Tomorrow or the next day I should be receiving my new painting.
And today I got a $200 check from Google for my Ads, so even though their very content offends my fickle nature, I will cash that check and party it up!
Happy New Year, indeed!

And now, because I feel it roll off my tongue, may I present:

Poetry for pussies--

Put something in me
Fill me, fuck me
Make me ache
Lick me raw
Shave me smooth.
But do it quick,
cuz I'm tired and sick
of you.

...what?
Did you think I was going to be all figurative and metaphorical and shit??
Nah; that stuff's for pussies.
Heh.

I hereby set myself free of all my angst and all my expectations!
Tonight is mine, tomorrow y'all can come back of you must...
But.
For tonight I choose happiness.
That boy be damned--
he's as scared of commitment as I am and we will find our way soon enough.
Because he...he fits inside my soul like I fit in that corset he loves
and he fits inside my body like sex was invented just to define the phenomenon of Us.
...our limbs intertwining and responding and writhing and---
fuck.
Good thing I replaced the batteries in that one thing...

(yes, I'm as glad to see the Crazy Bitch known as the Bored Housewife as the rest of you...maybe my fatigued and perpetually-on-the-verge-of-tears self will be entertaining to someone...)

P.S. I just composed an "I miss you" email to the Soon To Be Ex...fortunately the tears and snot factory sent me running for tissues which gave me the chance to come to my senses before sending it. Gah. I think this calls for getting drunk and fucking a stranger, whadda ya say? Ok, fine. I'll just binge eat.
P.S.S. My head feels like a block of cheese that has been shot through with a machine gun; no, not Swiss Cheese--the bullets ripping through fleshiness is an important part of the image! The swiss are far too uninvolved to convey my feelings with accuracy. They're terrible marksmen, too.

Head, heart--scrambled

The crowded smoky room
can't breathe
thoughts pounding too loudly against their bone cage.
The cold air against cheeks
feet crunching through yesterday's still-frozen snow
making tracks in this abandoned Main St of Small Town America
So dark, so still
Thoughts begin to assemble into an order, digestible, comprehensible.
The heart still clenches together, refusing to break.
Too much recent scarring, too many fresh lacerations--
broken and rebroken and as misshapen as a veteran boxer's nose.

All I want (I tell the stars) is for you to reach out
just a little more often.
Let me love you before the dam bursts and all my love crashes over you in seething waves of anger, as hot as the tears
that sear
their way down my cold cheeks.

Everyone wants to love me but you.
And then I almost laugh at my drama--
you do, too, but you know...you know how powerful it will be, how strong and unbreakable, unshakable, un
endable
it will be.

I should just let me heart finish breaking for that man I failed.
That man I never loved right...even if my failure was aided and abetted by his failure and even if we both know this is the right decision, but sometimes I can't believe he's not myfamily anymore he's not my partner (no matter how deficient) and I just want all the sadness out and I know it's almost all gone, I've come far--fast, but I just want the blood to stop pumping straight out of my heart, leaking into my respiratory system, making it so that I can't breathe without choking on my own broken heart.

When tears flow over my neck the salt leaves a red rash...
So hot.

I feel like I am nearing the summit of this mountain, so
close
so
so
close.
When I reach the top, will B. be there?
Yeah...
I believe with all of my heart's broken strength that he will.
But if he's not, I'll be ok.
There are so many fish in this sea that I'm getting sushi envy.

Whew...
That was intense.
I wasn't exactly expecting so much to come out, but it just sort of poured over me.
I hope it was coherant.
...mostly I hope that my words continue to flow
and grow
more beautiful as my wounds heal.

I am still lighter and happier than I've been in years, even with all the leaking of sadness...
So that is why I can smile as I wipe the tears from my itchy neck and feel as comfortable and settled into this life of mine as if it was my destiny.
Oh wait...
*wink*

Merry Christmas, anyone who's out there.
Let's all be thankful for as many things as we can possibly think of today.

No more words--

Tell me you love me while you're lookin' away!
Ha.

I finally swung by the bar to drop off a thank you gift for the artist who sketched me...a few weeks ago, now.
Feels like forever, but I guess it was just 2 weeks ago.
Hm.
Anyway.
I had just missed him, but the bartender took the little red gift bag with 3 packs of his brand of cigarettes, a sheaf of paper with words from this lil ole blog, and a bill, folded into a bow-tie...
I wish I could commission one of his bronze sculptures...of anything--it wouldn't matter.
The one I've seen is imprinted in my mind, the power of the lines, the grace of the shaping!
I'll have him draw the kids sometime, for my Mother's Day gift to myself, maybe.

And speaking of my growing art collection!
I won a silent auction on a piece from my favorite painter's gallery!
She is one of the dearest human beings on record, and has a soul as lovely as its shell.
Not to mention the way she makes a simple painting come alive--
when it slips along your optic nerve it leaves a trail of glitter
winding through the pathways of your heart and that indefinable place inside where giddiness is conceived,
the images she imagines slip inside you and dance like whole tribe of fertility gods for your own imagination.

Yeah.
And it'll be delivered from Phoenix next week.
I will be breathless til then.
I will tear pictures of my own dear chidren off the wall, because I already know where this gorgeous piece
MUST
hang.

Graffiti I left on the table
at the bar...
with a pencil:

Words--
used to come so fast I tripped over them.
Now they lie behind a rock wall,
dammed...
damned.
Writer's Block isn't even in my lexicon.
But it should be tattooed across my forehead,
or one letter on each knuckle--
a prison tat
for my liberated soul.

And now I'll go shower off the smokiness.
Cuz...
BLECH!
And I snuggle into that giant bed of mine,
and maybe...
I'll dare to dream of the time when I can dare to dream of the time...
when I'll be in love again.

This just doesn't seem real right now

I mean...
I had my path before me, ya know?
It wasn't the path I wanted, but it was tehre, just the same.
And now it's all gone and I'm happy with my new path, but sometimes I miss the comfort of familiarity.
Sometimes I miss the easy life.

I was just putting jam on a hunk of bread (jam I made, in fact) when I realized that one of the things the SoonToBe never recognized or appreciated about me was that I am considerate.
There are many things about which others have noted, things I value, that he spent 9 years overlooking.
And...
I'm sure there are plenty of things about him that I didn't value as I should have.
But I tried awfully hard to find all the good in him that I could.

Whatever.
I'm just feeling a little weirded out about the fact that Christmas without him will be happier than Christmas was when I was with him--because he was a Grinchy ole Scrooge.
And I have fun presents to open and great friends and family to be around--
and a babysitter for New Year's Eve!
...and a faaaantastic date to spend it with, if I'm lucky.
(Luck, in this case, equals his work schedule cooperating)

Anyway.
I apologize for the touch of a downer, there.
I am fighting off a coldy-flu thing and have spent the last couple of hours apathetically watching some unaccountably good soft-porn.
Ah, wait--I can suddenly account for the apparent quality!
See: fighting off illness.
Ha!
Seriously, though, I watched an episode of 30 Rock and laughed my pubes off and then somehow I stumbled onto Skin-amax...
I can't be bothered to be aroused by it most of the time, and tonight's no exception.
I should write that stuff.

Ok, that's enough of a schizophrenic post for one night, don't you think?

A gnawing orneriness seeps into me, and out of me...

I feel hungry, but I just ate
I feel tired, but I just slept...
well, no, actually I didn't, but I have been lethargic all day.
The kids won't stop talking, but it's happy talk so I can't actually do anything about it but participate.
We had s'mores for dessert, because someone gave them a S'mores Maker.
It was fun, but my head still hurts.
Maybe I just need to take a long bath--
but no, that thought makes me almost snarl.
I would blame PMS, but we're in the Post stages, and I learned at the age of 13 that the P stands for Pre...
I was a little confused and was complaining of a headache, trying to brag that I had joined the ranks of women, and my best friend's mother asked some time line clarifying questions,
leading me to throw out the word "Post",
and then
she laughed her loud and full laugh at me--
the P stands for Pre, Lisa!
Anyway...
I love taking little strolls down Memory Lane in the middle of a huricaine.

I think I had things to say,
but now I don't.
Life is good, just feel unaccountably icky right at the moment.
Kids are being so loud I can't even remember why I wanted to post earlier...
something about a follow up to my last post...?
Oh yeah--
I got a universal remote and my tv woes are over!
So yay for not buying a $500 tv to replace a $6 remote.
Good girl.

So does that mean you do surgery on dummies?

That's right.
My best friend successfully defended her disertation yesterday and she is offically
Dr. G!
I am soooo proud of her.
But did you ever think of how hard it is to explain that to a couple of 7 year olds who are hearing about it for the first time??
"So does she work at our hospital?"
...uh, no. She's not that kind of doctor...
So after a few minutes of explaining that she has a doctorate in Philosphy, which is a PhD, rather than a doctorate in medicine (MD) and that makes her sort of an expert in her field rather than what they know of as A Doctor...we were back at square one.
But I still laughed in a barking and exuberant manner--
and, giving up, I just said, "Yes. That's what it means. She does surgery on dummies."
How hard do kids rock??

I am so ready for the weekend.
I finsihed my finals yesterday and then went to the aforementioned defense, and to celebrate after, but I still don't feel like I've had a moment to catch my breath.
I feel like I've been running at top speed for weeks...maybe months.
That's ok.
It's all good.
I'm so ready to relax that I haven't even had the slightest desire to go out tonight.
I am considering it...
but.
Unless I hear from The Boy, I will be happy to stay in, maybe catch up on my tv shows.
Fuck.
That reminds me.
I had to switch to a new satellite provider after ten years with the other one, because the Soon To Be Ex decided to turn off his and our bills were linked, and long story short, the other provider was offering a much better deal.
All went according to plan until I tried to change the channel on my tv so I could program my new remote...
see...I have no remote for the tv, but my old satellite remote was programmed to operate it.
Being the considerate fella that I am, I returned the receiver and remotes to the Soon to Be immediately, so that he could do what he needed to do.
I'm sure you're thinking, "Can't you just change the channel manually?"
Well, one would THINK.
But, no.
The Channel up/down buttons scroll through precisely TWO channels: 20 and 14.
What the FUCK IS THAT???
I've checked the on-screen menu and everything, but there is no way to put it on channel 3, which is the channel the satellite guy told me I needed to use for the satellite...and to program the remote.
So.
I have no way to watch tv in my bedroom.
I can watch DVDs, but not tv.
It makes my chest want to growl.
I keep doing everything I can to make this go smoothly for that Asshole and what does he do?
Tells my kids highly inappropriate things, spends his whole visitation weekend ignoring them, and pulling rugs out from under me left and right.
Could it be a hell of a lot worse?
Yes.
It absolutely could.
I just wish I would learn to stop trying so hard to make everyone else's life easier.
Cuz no one seems to give me the same courtesy.

....would you like a glass for that, or do you just want to pop the cork and chug it?
(sorry)

Cuz, actually, the satellite guy went out of his way to make sure I had the remotes I needed and the tv setup that I preferred, even though it was out of the ordinary.

I got all my Christmas packages in the mail today!
And priority mail was only a little more, so they'll all be there in time for the holiday!!
yay!
I just hope I addressed them all correctly...heh.

Later, fuckers.