nothing squared

well today im just plain spaced out
spacing out all over the place
whatta bore
traffic court
officer sepulveda is funny and cute
we're now pals
and i have to come back for a third time
thats what they do, if you have it in you to just keep coming back to the goddamn place and wasting an entire day you'll probably get it dismissed... but you might not... it just depends on whether the cop shows up.  if he does, it doesnt matter if the ticket was BS or not, you're fucked and have to be the exorbitant fucking fine.  ugh. 

laundry- i did it.  was a pain in my fucking ass. 

thats it, really.

rage

Fuck it.
I can't write angry music, and who cares about my fucking music, well, its therapeutic but... here we go.  Here it is.  No names, but the bullet points separate the messages.

• You're a flake.  
• You're a fucking flake.  Every time.  It's unfathomed.
• You, are, like, are you serious??? You can't just-- I mean I understand emotional unavailability, I understand the need, occasionally, more than occasionally, but I would never allow myself-- I hardly ever allow myself to act on it at all, let alone just fucking not, just fucking not, when I've always done everything in my power for you, at the drop of a hat.  Just mindblown and wild.
• You, you, are a bunch of fucking assholes. 
• You're a judgmental shit.
• You, I don't know what to say about you, except that... well, shit.
  
  
  Furthermore, NOBODY CARES.  I mean, most people just don't give a RAT'S ASS.  I can't, I can't, the time is making me cry cuz there's no time and I have to go to traffic court tomorrow AGAIN so I can't down that bottle of pills and die cuz I have to take care of that, that fucking, MISERABLE, I have nothing to look forward to right now I just want someone to CARE I JUST-
  
  
  I JUST WANT SOMEONE TO CARE WITHOUT HAVING TO CARE BACK.  like a child.  yeah.  like a fucking baby, thats what I want.  thats what i want.  im battered bruised and underslept and always fucking chasing the dragon
  
  
  I just want my MOMMY.  I WANT MY MOMMY, i want my mommy, i've lived this whole thousand years without a mommy and i had to be the one taking care of her too young, too soon, i wonder what she would think about what im doing this MESS i'm in.  she would think its fucking stupid.  
  
  
  an egotistical no egomaniacal pursuit and im asking all these people to waste their time doing this my BULLSHIT and i just get so sad 
   
  someone once told me they said to me when i asked when i asked if they care about someone, because they have to they asked, 'have you ever cared about someone because you had to, have you ever had to care about someone?' and they said 'its not that simple, is it.'
  and its not.  i just want to not have to 
  
  
  i just want a confidante, i just want a confidante to whom i can tell anything without having to CARE and i want i confidante who isnt jealous or weird and i want i confidante who's just objective and always CARES, whether they like it or not.  and i want a confidante i dont want to kiss.  and i want a confidante i dont have to pay.  and I WANT MY MOMMY and i want something that doesnt exist 
  
  
  and i want something that doesnt exist
  and i want something that doesnt exist
  
  
  and i want an everloving break from my physiological AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
  
  
  
  

As above, as below

Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out

She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans,
Candy the yams and spice the hams

And though her daddy would scream and shout
She simply would not take the garbage out.

and the details are:

In a sad bad and dangerous place mentally and emotionally.  fucking losing it.  for real.  whats the point.

oh my christ

i am gonna lose my goddamn mind
i am gonna lose my goddamn mind
i am gonna lose my goddamn mind
i am gonna lose my goddamn mind

the footsteps in the hallway are scaring me
i have no voice
i have no purpose
everythings just a waste of fucking time
im going to have a heart attack
my teeth are going to rot out of my head
my traffic ticket will go to warrant
and i will jump off a goddamn bridge
which one should i jump off

Natch

I did it!!!

I did it.  I'm back.  I'm home.  I'm alone, alone for the first time in a whole week, I mean even a moment, I did an entire week without one moment--

I made sure, my apartment is sparkling clean, there's food, Masha's litter is fresh, the bed is made and I can finally use my blanket again-- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.  A mindblown music video shot and in the can, post production team in place, feature film rough cut done and editing tweaks and scoring in place, great show at great venue and band in place, bonds strengthened and formed, a new job, translating the completely uncharted territories of the diary of a Russian-born, broken French immigrant inventor, from the 1920s through WWII.....

All amazing.  Tons to do.  Not tonight.  No.  Tonight-- leftovers and my Real Housewives.  Natch.

Love.
Chlo

Wowee...

My best decisions in life have always been made when I don't let myself spend any time considering them. 

This past week has been amazing, amazing times, amazing memories, creativity, laughs, revelations, projects accomplished and in the can... and of course, a mindblown amount of hard work and last minute problem solving.  I feel like I'm wearing fresh eyes.  I feel like I'm whole. 

And of course much of the work has just begun.  And of course this blog entry touches on nothing-- I don't have time right now to write it, but I will, because this particular series of revelations is all light and will neither offend or intrigue anyone whomsoever... but just sayin.'  Don't think so much.  Do.  I mean, think a lot, about everything else, about everything other than what you're going to do.  Because if you can't foresee your immediate or distant future circumstances, down to the detail, your plans mean nothing at all... Just do something, and make it work.

and then it rained..

O ho ho and a bottle of rum

Oh pirate what do you do with an achy heart?  Some rummy and gin and some gin rummy, yart!

It's straight coming out of my chest............ do I sound healthy to you guys?  Mentally and/or physically?  I think, I don't know, granted I don't talk about much on this but irritating abstractions, but, still, one could get a feel, no? 

I think I'm, I dunno, I think I'm fucked, to be quite honest. 

Um.....

 Nevermind.

good gracious im tired. 

Ahhhhhh.

Here's to one sigh of some relief.
Car- check.
No flu- check.
iPhone- check.
Itinerary for P- check.
Rent paid- check.
All band members notified and available for show- check.
Relatively clean pad- check.

An equation.

This damn blog has just become the ultimate exercise in self-censorship.  It was erected prematurely and now it can't.... problems:
1. I have in it, no more outlet
2. I AM a fucking outlet.

S, our lives run so parallel, no wonder we go years without crossing paths.  Yeah, there's enough content for three lifetimes and at least four portfolios and now it's time to edit or it will all be worth zilch, like this combination Megaphone Muzzle.  Kangaroo Keyboard. 

Epiphany: Everything takes two years. 
Everything else takes ten years.
Even mathematically speaking, very few sums are simply their parts.
Magic is an example of more.
Censored diatribe is an example of less.

I am sick of being sick.
And having the curtains drawn, obscuring infinity.

I'm so sick of the 'enza. Literally, sick of it.

I look distinctly feverish and 'maciated even though I've been doing nothing but eating and laying on my ass for 6 days... Funny how that works.
Moreover, I've been listening to Amy Winehouse nonstop for about two weeks (and also watching Law and Order: SVU, and a lot of it.  Full-fledged dissertation on that damn show to come.)
No, I've also done a damn lot.  But I have an even lotter to do in the next few weeks.  And I'm sick of being sick.  Masha loves it though. 

Facebook is Weird.

But Facebook Fan pages are less weird; are, in fact, better.