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Below are the 25 most recent journal entries.

	2007.04.11  00.20 it has been 49 weeks since i updated here. the reasons being vast and complex. i am working on not being a shell any more. being more than a body and a number. i am in recovery for a binge-eating disorder that started 25 years ago. i weigh less than i ever have but i am still broken. my boyfriend makes me happy. my daughter makes me happiest. i consider lj a binge on attention, so i try and refrain. el gorgo nudged me, so here i am. not dead. not the best, but better and happier. i work two jobs and currently am healing a broken tooth, a yeast infection from the antibiotics- and skinned knees from falling while running. an empty life will suck your wisdom and creativity dry. trust me. if i could gain 100 pounds back i probably would if i could have my old mind back. but now i couldn't even think of gaining weight. now it is my private obsession. it is my friend and my control and my anger and my intimacy. food and consuming or not consuming it- and working out. writing and art are just for some girl i used to be. i suck at both now, pretty much any time i make the attempt. it's really alright, i know it's just not the way it was. my boyfriend snores. i walk the dogs. i go to meetings. i stopped smoking. i hold two jobs. my muscles are big. the rest is just what it is. i am no longer a burning building you get to watch. now i am just this smoldering pile of ash and wood. enjoy the warmth.

	2006.05.02  11.15 i decided i would start writing in this journal again some. mainly because i don't want to be that person who is completely one way about updating only one certain journal. because, i mean, how droll... so this is my update. the first of many to come. the first in a million days. if i had a penis i would obsessively measure it. that's all i'm sayin. it's good i don't have one. i cannot begin to explain how dreadfully fat i feel right now. i hope that i go back to my routine soon. i am fighting myself so much lately. the battle of two wills, both inside my head. i really wish i wasn't creative and good at things sometimes- then i could just be physical and never feel anything was amiss. but being happy and running and working out everyday made me SO happy, that i felt a bit like a cartoon character. well, then i stopped losing weight and it just became not fun any more. i'm pretty "results driven" and i guess now, looking down at my gut- i can clearly note the drastic change in going a month without working out. the weight is the same - and the body is like... someone else's. i listened to The Roots today and it made me happy. but sad. sean sort of introduced me to the roots. when i am down i always romanticize the past. you can romanticize in sad ways too- which is my poetic emo-girl preference. oddly, i cannot decide between these two quotes for my lower back tattoo: The Revolution Is Personal. Happy Endings Are Not In The Script. maybe both. i dunno - i hate words. why am i even thinking about getting words tattooed on me? i'm serious. no words. okay. i'll probably do it anyway though. i'm kinda stupid that way. alright well i was about town last night being a rock star and all- and i've had three hours sleep. time for a much needed nap.

	2006.03.02  02.30 weird. tonight, on a fluke, i decided to just try on three different kinds of size 12 pants and skirts. all three fit. i bought two. they were at an outlet store, so don't think i spent a lot. the main thing is. size 12. that's just beyond my comprehension right now. but it shouldn't be - i mean. for fun today i hiked to Yellow Rock in Devil's Den State Park. that's a big three mile hike straight up. i told my mother about the size 12 thing and she was like "oh.that's.nice." then she remarked how i was in *her* size pants... to which i replied - well, now that's MY size. fuck her. haha. what a cunt, ya know? anyway- i am supposed to be awake in 4 hours. then i have a class and some eBay postal work. i cleaned offices tonight after we ate vegan tamale pie. ironically enough - i gained a pound this week. i have a pain in my temple which makes me think i'm having some kind of blood clot exploding. because i am a freak that way. it's like, "oh. i am in a non-teen-non-twenty size pants... i guess the big one must be coming." cuz God knows i cannot enjoy happiness longer than two hours. tops. and that's the story.

	2006.03.01  01.37 this photo is sexy mainly because right behind my ass is this fucking PEZ package. i'm like 100% loser.

	2006.02.27  23.05 i hope this is just pre-menstrual stuff. because i am totally eating everything i see and i have absolutely no drive to work out. actually, i feel kind fo numb and sick all over. and a bit depressed and apathetic. i used to think i'd make a good rich lady. but now i know that's not true. i just don't enjoy anything about money. it reminds me of my father. my life as a kid. and now - my life as an adult. just the preoccupation with money is boring. i have nothing of value to say. i've been sad for two weeks over stuff that isn't even related to me. and sad over things that totally are. my head's really hot and i want girl scout cookies. god i feel like a fat ass.

	2006.02.27  01.26 This Weekend • i sold a lot of plus size clothing to folks. • i didn't work out because i was so sore. • i am sore because i am a pussy and my abs hurt. • thursday my trainer worked me over- and yeah. • you can work abs until you puke. did you know this? • i am up late again. i was working. i like work. • well, that is if it's for me, something i like. ie, eBay. • cleaned offices. danced around. acted a fool. • looked at photos. i do good work. i'm not bad. • went to a mardi gras parade. caught many beads. • ate at taco bueno and regretted it like one hour later. • ate at ruby tuesdays. ditto on the above statement. • watched anchorman and 40 yr old virgin and laughed. • i took like three naps this weekend. man do i suck ass. • back to the gym tomorrow. paze back to school. neal, work. • i have not fucked since january. i'm horny folks. • going to bed now. sleep tight. the colbert report. yes.

	2006.02.26  00.17 this is exciting. i am very, very pleased that my eBay sales are going so well this week. thanks so much to all the community links and the people who have been bidding! not only do i get the pleasure of being paid for a job i happen to love, i also get to rid myself of clothing that was otherwise going unused! nobody loses and i like that a lot. it's sad to se some of my bras going... many of them were used in photo shoots for Breast Fetish sites i worked for. when you have over a hundred photos in a certain bra, it can be difficult to part with it. but it is WAY past time to let go. besides, i like the idea that another pair of boobs will get some use out of them! call me a sicko.... LOL. i am extremely pleased with the numbers and with the level of watched items i can see so far, even without bidders yet. these auctions are being watched by many and it will be amusing to see what some of my lost treasures will finalize at. already it's become a bidding war over a dress that i literally wore once. EXCITING! of course, with my weight loss, there are sure to be more auctions like these... but plus sizes are where it's at! i am constantly on the lookout for deals i can pass along, especially to my crossdressing customers. the private auction aspect is also working in my favor. i am glad i can serve this group who are so sadly neglected in the retail world. another aspect of the issues i have personally is related to this auction load- and that's my mourning of the person i was. as silly as it may sound, i have a LOt of great memories of me in certain clothes. how easily my camera fit into that jean jacket when i was on the road with paul. when i dyed my hair blonde a year ago and had beth taking photo of me in the blue polka dot bra. or when i was the calendar girl with my red bra and panties & santa cap. not to mention, the black panties that a boyfriend bought for me and tried to steal on his way out of my apartment! one of the skirts i've literally had since right after high school - and for some reason, it's hot again and people want it. after this batch goes out, i will no longer have clothing from my Plus Size days. it's a bit stressful, something i did not imagine months ago. i never knew you could actually be sad for having lost weight- but it happens. you wonder who you are a lot more than people ever talk about. you wonder who you wanted to be - besides thin- and then you REALLY start to understand how much you've obsessed about being thin your whole life. it makes you kinda mad on the one hand, and proud on the other. very complex stuff emotionally, that, as i said, nobody ever tells you about. then you also start this not being able to recognize yourself in pictures. today i was looking at pictures neal took of paisley and i downtown at mardi gras [the parade part is for kids] and i found paisley before i found ME - and i was standing right beside her! REALLY crazy times. surreal, in fact. i was called "such a GEEK" by my friend wil last night, which i highly prize because he is the half-japanese king of comic book dorks... but it was because while in the middle of this scene in the 40 year old virgin i note something in the background of the set-- i jump up, point to the screen and say "HEY, LOOK, WIL, IT'S AQUAMAN!" well, it *was* alright? the webbed-handed aquaman, no less. a TREASURE, for sure. anywayyyyy... i had been drinking, so yeah. i really like wil. i always have. ever since like, before neal and i were married. i wish i could go out with him and it not be awkward. but that ain't gonna happen, seeing as how he works for my ex-husband. ah well. i should go to bed. i have a feeling tomorrow's auction endings will be sweet - a bit like Christmas morning.

	2006.02.25  01.35 the 40 year old virgin for one thing, i am drunk, so forgive me if i ramble a bit. actually, haha, i may just pass out. big fight with hydie tonight which ended in her not going out- and not talking to anyone. then a big meal at noodles which is really like, major carbo loading. then movies: Bubble. 40 Year Old Virgin. Anchorman. Broken Flowers. Mirrormask. but i only watched the virgin one and damn, besides Dodgeball, that ahs to be the best movie ever. and i am drunk. i didn't mean to be. it just happened. honest. gin. and juice. money on my mind. you know. fuck. i think i am going to go pass out. i would like nothing more than to suck some dick right now. i just though i'd admit to my sluttiness. i dunno - but i'd like to be in love too. life is so fucked up. what's the God damned point of it all anyway? i wish i could have a malt. that's all i really want. that, and Scott to come and be inside me.

	2006.02.15  21.57 being in love is simple. but what about the times you're not in love? i am on a little boat. there is only water and the crisp sun warming my shoulders. there is nobody here to write it down. nobody who touches my cheek and says: "let me have the paddle while you sleep." nobody who takes a photograph of my snoozing lips. this is a very lonely boat. sometimes the water is like mud. other times it is mud. then at other times the boat grows feet and walks; the boat hull around my hips like a hoop skirt. but there is no dancing. just a long hard journey. of waterless days. sleepless nights. me and a blue pillow sham and a book. a nightstand lamp clicked off. the slow closing of a silent, aging mind. i can scarcely imagine the point. i am a love addict. i want that hallucination... and i miss it terribly. there is nobody to lament, to pine away for -at all- any more. just myself and huggy-baby and our little routines. but nothing romantic or anything. not a single soul to jump into and lose myself. oh god, i miss the heaviness equated with man bones and the fuzziness of hairy chest. toes curling into my toes; the texture of scrotum lazily resting against my jizz-leaking ass. his kisses between my shoulder blades before he rolls off and plays in my hair. a warm towel between my thighs because he is a gentleman. the single hair-raising touch of someone you want to feel inside you at all times. i miss just *liking* sex, much less having it. i cannot even think about enjoying it any more. touching myself is riddled with complexities and feelings of "pathetic loser" and general sadness over it being a neccesity. so i just avoid it. it's not really my cookie, my pussy, my cunt... it's just a vagina. meat. almost cold. maybe i am so used to hanging on, reaching out and clutching&clinging... this freedom and independence from love is frightening? maybe the addiction is falling in it, and then leaving it as soon as i touch it...? i have to wonder. some have said i lack the ability to love. perhaps that's true. but even still, i would like to know it. i cannot imagine years of sexual and emotional pleasure. that's sad. i've never known it. as passionate as i am. i have only had fleeting, unnatural romantic love. or love by proxy. or love out of need. when sean came here i wanted him to love me like a close brother. maybe a son. i am not sure what exactly i expected, if anything at all. until one night, he was reluctant to come over. he'd already moved into his apartment. i offered dinner and probably pushed like a Jewish grandmother. i know i can be that way. whiney, disappointed voice: "oh but we're having pasta. are you sure you don't want to join us, dear?" so he came. as good jewish boys often do, so a nagging grandmother will just shut up already. and he was not having a good time. the kids [patrick's son, henry, and my daughter] were being really loud. i don't think anybody was having a decent time, to be honest. and at one point, sean was sitting with me on my loveseat... and i just put my head on his shoulder and asked him to hold me. and he said no. and the real Truth is, i never forgave him that. and i don't imagine i ever will.

	2006.02.14  12.07 where were you a year ago? i had been arrested weeks prior on a minor traffic violation and was hauled into jail for an outstanding felony warrant for writing hot checks. i had to work odd jobs to pay the 1500 bucks i owed and to knock it down to a misdemeanor. i was also just denied for the third time in my life, disability for my mental health problems with manic depression. then it was valentine's day. today, one year ago... i was in adel, georgia. paul and i had just been to the 'we bare all' nude bar and ate and had beverages. his wife was getting flowers at her job. nice touch paul. i was being fingered in the bed later that evening by a lying married scumbag who had the world, and me, fooled. well, not everyone. he has been known to admit how good he is at playing stupid. truly, it is the only art form he has down pat. i was working 16-18 hour days and literally having no fun in life working for him that last time. i was in florida as a carney selling fried dough to obese people at the fair. i was earning shit and working for nothing usually, since even in the end i never got paid in full and still had to find my own way home after being kicked out. staying on the side of the road. waiting for a bus that was supposed to come and did not until finally another bus driver felt sorry for me and gave me a lift. [unheard of for greyhound, i might add.] i called scott in alabama and for the first time in years i was within 15 miles of him and there was nothing. he did not come. did i think he would? did i think these men were brave enough to handle someone who refuses to give up even when they obviously gave up on me? i remember standing in that same bus station a few years prior and waiting on him to pick me up. the nervous twitter in my heart. did my hair look ok? did i smell bad? what if he was balding in the back? oh god. and we met and i fell in love. it was clear to me that day, as it is today- no man could ever make me feel the way he did. it was just chemistry. i still love him and would love to kiss him and touch him, but again, that life's over. i can't just fool myself any more. i wish i could. in many ways it was better when i lamented daily for this man. later in this bus trip home from florida, a knife was pulled on me by a crack addict. the first time that's ever happened to me in public on the street. i was hiding my money, the last bit paul had paid me, under my tit inside my bra. i got home early and had to wait hours for someone to come get me. after i paid neal back and paid my bills for the month, i had less than 100 bucks to my name, then within that week i had set my wallet on the car hood and forgot it there and lost even that. i woke up everyday to the smell of cat urine and ferret and rabbit cages literally filling my apartment with fecal scents. when i finally cleaned up, i began packing for a life i knew i wanted to live- but had no idea how i would do it. we had managed to discuss only temporary means of living, neal and i. we were living in separate households. i had a garage sale to sell off my things for some money. i moved in with him the last month to save on bills. on a rainy night i called an old friend's ex-husband over to fuck me, though i cannot tell you what on earth for. i drank three bottles of wine and threw up in his lap after gagging on a rough blowjob. i called sean, my friend in new york who knew me as an online friend and a phone friend only. we'd never met, but we were inseparable for the next six months, virtually speaking. sean asked me to stop drinking. and i did. i also decided to start controlling my life more. have more say in it. i stopped drinking and taking pain pills. i started a plan of action. to move out of that town, away from my mother and start a fitness program. i began inching my way toward health again and posted a public "please help me" entry on livejournal to bring my friends on board to help me keep focused, which they have. i had to leave my animals at a shelter and they were all adopted. i now have my bunny back in my custody. my daughter is with me & my ex in the same house, along with her godmother, hydie. we have a cohesive family unit with responsibilities, fun times and bad times- and always a lot of love. we live in a home i never dreamed we'd live in at this age and my ex-husband, who is basically my husband without the sex part, started his own division of web services and picked up walmart as a client. we live modestly and within our means, though we have more money than we ever really thought about. we're just not 'money people' i guess. we have no credit cards or outstanding debts that make us feel trapped. i still shop at thrift stores and paisley and i go to the gym, a ten minute drive away, because it was cheaper than the one down the road. i became a vegan and stopped being one because i became borderline religious about it and that scared me away. i've lost over 90 pounds and i went from a 52 pant size to a 36 in the waist. from a size 26/28 to a 14 juniors. i lift rocks for fun and i run, something i never imagined myself doing. i eat 5 small meals a day and i use most of that in my training and workouts. i started cleaning offices and make that to supplement my disability income, which i was finally approved for a month ago. i lost two very dear friends this year, one to death and the other, sean, to emotional implosion. he moved here from brooklyn and moved away within a few months. we've not spoken since. i only knew of his having left by the little boats in his window being gone at the apartment where he was staying. it was a terrible loss that i am still affected by and cannot explain. it just wasn't meant to be. i have taken over 2000 photos this year, most of which i do not share online for whatever reason. i went hardcore, face-first into collecting PEZ at a time when my life seemed very out of control, and then lost interest almost overnight after reading a Taosim book. i am now working on my materialism and my inner/spiritual growth. i try to live each day as if it were the very last. i have a heart filled with love and it overflows into many other things in my life. to other people. with my daughter... and even my ex, whom i try and see with new eyes again, remembering the person that i feel in love with. not as to be in love again, but to love and respect my daughter's father so she has a healthy version of parents. even divorced ones. i quit smoking and started again, though i smoke in very controlled small amounts and do not exceed a few per day, though none are safe. to be honest, a month ago i was in high stress mode. i was going a little stir crazy and romanticizing the travels of my youth. now i seem to be enjoying my newfound body, freedom and growth in ways i could not have imagined one year ago. i've become extremely proactive in my life and i try to remain a positive influence on other women and people. maybe that's ironic for a once upon a time escort and pornography dealer, but it's just what it is. those things i had to do to live made me a much more light-hearted person. i can laugh at who i am and i don't take it all so seriously. i have become less judgmental and much more kind. i've also developed a pretty keen sense of when people are lying to me. i stay clear of bad relationships and within days of the first misstep, i am gone. poof. unlike a year ago when i would not have got the point no matter what the other person told me. today i am responsible for myself and i ask nobody anything at all to get me by. i dance. i smile almost all the time and i am still writing. still wanting to be number one and i still love way too much. but looking back from where i stood one year ago, i can safely say i am one damned determined woman - and nobody slowed me down. oh no.

	2006.02.12  00.05 i still dream of being a rock star. i wonder how i would fair with someone who wanted nothing... someone who just wants to love me, for me. someone who buys me a piano for my birthday. a lovely person who asks me to play. the trouble with kelly is she cannot imagine these things. broken promises. cruelty. name-calling. beatings. these are my familiar. not the candle-lit cuddliness of romance. i am a rock star in my mirror when nobody is looking. what i do not say is that i grew up to be a woman i hated. just today i realized my life did not begin until i turned 30. tomorrow marks the day i take down all my mementos. and the wall length tack board. and put things away, filed into tabbed folders. moving into a new direction of self-knowing. life is quiet and that's okay. solitude is a measure of growth and strength. a man calls and asks "have you been to Hollywood?" you just sigh and say "who gives a shit about Hollywood?" then you hang up. are these words for sale? am i for sale? it's just easier to go to bed and forget that i am lonely. i've said goodbye to everyone and everything- except these memories. it's overdue.

	2006.02.10  00.27 when you're alone, you pretend someone sleeps next to you. i was listening to that daniel beddingfield song the other day... "if i'm not made for you then why does my heart tell me that i am?" i'm so sick of crying over memories. and crying over you. did i break my own heart on purpose? or was i just naive and stupid and selfish? i loved your arm. the crook of your elbow where my head went. i miss how you made me laugh til i just ached. i miss you watching me bathe. just because. i miss being the first. the one. the only. i miss the excitement a new day would bring... and how now- it's just another day without you. oh, fuck, now i sound like jon secada. this journal is dead.

	2006.02.07  14.13 Beth's photos on Fox news. a neat story and the photos are by my friend, bath bates. she's taken my picture countless times and it's so nice to know she took her interest seriously and really took a bite out of the big apple. i'm really proud of her! the story and photos.

	2006.02.07  02.13 Hypergraphia: The driving compulsion to write; the overwhelming urge to write. Hypergraphia may compel someone to keep a voluminous journal, to jot off frequent letters to the editor, to write on toilet paper if nothing else is available, and perhaps even to compile a dictionary. Hypergraphia is the opposite of writer's block. Temporal lobe epilepsy is associated with hypergraphia. This association has been known at least as early as 1974 (Waxman SG, Geschwind N. Hypergraphia in temporal lobe epilepsy. Neurology. 1974;24:629-36). A number of prolific writer may have had temporal lobe epilepsy, including Byron, Dante, Dostoevsky, Molière, Petrarch, Poe, and Tennyson. Hypergraphia has also been called the midnight disease. while i am medicated for my mania, sometimes it's not much help. it's like my brain wants what it wants and if i don't feed it, the next day i feel an immense sense of failure or depression. i rarely go back and re-read anything i've written. it's like a fleeting kind of love affair with the keys. [formerly paper, but that's so obsolete now. grin] this is why i have had up to five journals online in the past. there is a deep sense of shame attached to the writing. while some people have told me i am enjoyable, there have been times where i felt like i was a total bother to "friends lists" because of the need to write. i don't know. it's not a desire to reveal as much as it is a desire to speak with my hands...? maybe? anyway. i have to write and i plan my day so that i can write and fortunately my daughter has a great dad who understands my condition and takes her in the evenings. but still, i can't sleep much. i'm always writing something, either on paper, on my hands - whatever... and if i can't do that, or no words come, i turn to art. [usually collage-making or painting] because i can dance and speak with my hands in that way, too.

	2006.02.04  23.44 boob jobs, the Lane Bryant funeral and other stuff. i have so many things [clothes, shoes, bras/panties] to donate or sell on eBay that i really cannot even muster the energy to go through everything. i probably have about 20 great [really nice] bras that are from my old huge-0-rama size that're gonna break my heart to part with. well, i *still* have to buy pretty much the biggest rbas in Kohl's Dept store, so- it's not as if i am that small chested now. but i dunno - the end of an era. breasts that were once so large i was STILL wearing two sizes too small at a 46 EEE... are now 38Fs. [or a 38/40 DDD, if you will.] i was talking to a lady at the lingerie section about bras and she actually had the balls to ask me if i had a boob job. WTf? people sure are nosey these days. i responded "yes, i've had a few- but the biggest problem is getting them to pay on time." :D get it? boob JOB. derfa der. im gonna go window lick now. so um, yeah. gone are all lane bryant clothes except like two bras which still fit and my favoritest blouse ever which is all scarfy and flowy so it really is more like a one size fits all thing. oh, and this stretchy tube top thing with a long flare bottom which i will wear as a bathing suit cover up this summer. so i should have a special Lane Bryant funeral, i think. i dunno! no more 18s... and slowly but surely, i am getting too small for the 16s. i am still a wee bit too large for a comfortable 14 juniors though. i think my ideal will be whatever my ideal gets to when i feel like stopping. i've been really thinking about that- i remember at a size 11, i was in the 9th grade and i had a 36 DD bra size and i was pretty much a sought after commodity in junior high. but as a 30+1 year old woman, my body has dramatically changed. a size 11 is impressive, and i will be VERY happy with that if that's wehere my body settles- but i want something more... oomph! i have this size medium bondage sleeved shirt from Xpress that i just love. unfortunately, i can only get like one single boob in it. [okay, i can get it on, but it looks CRAZAY] so - i want to be able to wear that shirt. i'm also really afraid of the hangy skin which already is proving to be a very lovely addition to this body of mine. funny... i don't remember being all loose and hangy when i was a size 16 before. thank you father time. now it's not that bad. i probably am just very sensitive to the way i look right now. i have a pretty strict set of rules i have to go by until i hit my goal weight. this is mainly due to the fact that my friend who started out 125 more than i was when we began this together- is now only 65 poundes from where i am right now. as much as i am so proud of her, it also makes me pissed as hell. i *will* hit my target weight first. that is all there is to that shit. she's already passed me on the total weight loss part. that's hard enough to deal with, much less if she hits her goal weight before me... that'd really make me curl up and cry like a big loser. so anyway, i have this "plan" which is probably a "compulsion" and i will meet my goals ["win"] if it's the last thing i do before i die "kill someone." i want to talk about how we insulate ourselves with weight, abusive people and bad situations- but i'll just let you all ruminate on that one if you read down this far. nite.

	2006.02.02  17.35 i have surrounded myself with success stories and it has made all the difference. ♥

	2006.02.02  15.11 well folks, i'll be back soon enough... but every damn woman on Hivejournal is on the rag this week, so i think i'm gonna go clean the garage and closets until everyone's "clean" again. PS: in the store today, because i am white trash, i had my 3 year old, cranky and grabbing at me to leave - but i insisted she wait until i tried on this one skirt in the junior miss's department. and it fit. over my workout pants. because i tried it on right there. again, because we're a trashy bunch raised in barns & trailers. size 14. juniors. SQUEEEE! haha. [um, not.] but yeah. it was cool. cleaning out closets! no more 16 women's!

	2006.02.01  17.24 how about: no more lobbying? no more pews? no more trusts? no more foundations? no more grants? how about, the park. the sun. the shimmy of leaves? and doing nothing? oh kelly, you silly dreamer.

	2006.02.01  17.15 from: activist cash Adbusters is an elitist cabal of the would-be ultracool. It even has its own language, words which pop up on almost every page: “culture jammer,” “mental environment,” “subvertisement.” This, of course, makes Adbusters’ consumers feel just as hip as the conventional marketing Adbusters derides for supposedly being coercive. all i can say is that about three weeks ago my ex-husband bought his 'yearly or thereabouts' copy of Adbusters and saw some kind of 'article' [note, NOT AD] on a particular vegan shoe and made the purchase. *online* cost: $100.00. um, oink?

	2006.02.01  16.16 a fortress of memories you drew subconscious circles in the snow with a muddy shoe; a nervous capitulation. falling onto the floor with heartbreak in hand, i understood, once, the fine art of surrender. when i left you limp and exhausted to go back to the relic of a life i thought i owned, i did not know it was just a ghost's song calling. would i have stayed, nestled in the crook of your elbow and arm, warm and soft as a kitten with mama? the longer and harder i examine these stones, turning them over and over in my hand, the more i realize i am polishing memories, smoothing out the empty spaces and cracks- making pain, beauty. today i walked with my aching legs, but the only ones i have- one in front of the other, the cloudy sky sagging above. i thought of our walks. how you giggled at me running, with my breasts swaying and bobbing in slow motion. the laughter of what we didn't know, innocently enough, mixing with the perpetual inner dialogue of how it would end. i did not survive the life i have without some wisdom. just as your youth affords you the hope i've long since turned down the bed on. it's a fair exchange. heartbreak for experience. loss for love. you, for me. when i am most alone, though rarely lonely, i miss you. it seems we've said all we can say and what's left of 'us' is a girl & boy, standing by the traintracks, watching a speeding locomotive rush by, wind in our hair.

	2006.02.01  02.26 PS: i love PCH i'd like to win please. thanks. and if i do win, i will send everyone i know 10 bucks. see? that's pretty damn generous. i'm nice like that, though. i probably will not win... but there is this - gosh, hope! i've become my mom in a hardcore sad way. oh well. fuckit. i just want to answer the door and then scream "PAW... RUN GIT MOMMA'S TEETH, THE PRIZE PATROL'S HERE!"

	2006.02.01  02.05 besides dropping the name of 'daddy' and 'clinton' what did you expect? i mean really... the man cannot help himself. especially with the 'thoughtful' dress of WHITE condie was wearing in the front row. seriously. isn't there someone out there who's gonna take care fo this guy? christ. i ALMOST had a good workout, too- but then that shit was on. poor hillary. that's all i could think say out loud 'look at that poor woman.' well, and how i'd love to have five minutes alone with dubya. full-on gimp mask, him strapped to a chair... just me and a whip and some electro wires and metal nipples/cock&ball clamps. seriously. that prolly would make him hot, though. oh yes. working out went splendid, but i have somehow fucked up a knee again. i think i did that this weekend at the park, jogging up a ridiculous number of steep hills. i always stretch, so i imagine it was just a bit overdoing it. um. i drank an ass-ton of water today. i've been majorly sick in a good way because it has taught me not to smoke any more, even for shits&giggles. um. also. i bought batteries a smelly good bathroom scents tonight. these are my big rewards for working out even when i am sick. did you know we've stopped eating anything with hydrogenated or partially hydrogenated vegetable oil in it? it's scary how much SHIT we consume. i've also realized that our cart weighs more, even though we all eat less. that's because of density in whole foods. good vegetables. whole grains. lots of beans. even our bread is heavy like bricks. we all shit good around here, though. i know, TMI. fuckit. that's why it's livejournal and not CHURCH. psst. my belly hurts. in a gassy way. i hate this time of the month. i am all full of period-torrentiality. feel tha flood, bitchez. how often do you guys replace your dildos? CUZ I NEED ONE. mine's ganked up from too much clitoral rubbin. and those batteries were for the camera, you perverts. not for my dildo. i do kinda want to show ya'll how skinny i am. haha. not. seriously - the smaller i get the fatter i see myself. i look back at like, 250 and think "omg noes! i was showing that body to people?" GRRR. whatev. men suck. people suck. mad props to people who been sayin stuff about me in yer journals. you guys are awesome. i also want to just say that cakey is my number one ho. listen girl, you EVER feel like breakin on out- just come on down. seriously. to hell with these fools. so many of my over 29yrsold girls with kids are not happy and laughing everyday. it pisses me off. what's wrong with the world that beautiful girls dont laugh or have every fucking thing their heart desires? it's a shame. why does fingernail polish have to be such a bitch to apply? am i like nailpolish retarded? if i ever get disabled enough to have an assistance "pet" i hope he's a capuchin monkey named jean paul- and that nug best know how to do some manicurin'. peace out. did ya'll like this livejournal brought to that azz by Eb0nIks? thought so. fuck yo couch NIGGGAAAA.

	2006.01.30  16.33 above the south this is where my step-father told me new york was in relation to louisiana, where we lived. i wanted to know where sesame street was and my mother said "probably new york." as a sullen and withdrawn teenager, i held on to the idea that new york was at the top of the universe- and i, with my girl scout uniform on, cello case in hand, was on the underside of purgatory. the south was a prep-school for the nonblessed, like me. no matter how white we were or how much money i would some day learn my father earned- i was always an orphaned southern trailer park kid; ruled by new york's looming matriarchal greatness. even now as an adult woman, if a 'new york friend' has something to write or say, i see it as probably quite valid. even the friends who are full of nothing but shit. because new york is the homeland where we all fly to when the last sighs of the south have escaped our rusty lungs. like Santa Claus, or the north pole, i want to believe in new york; that a flag with an apple on it exists there, stuck into the top of my universe like a toothpick wedged into an hors d'oeuvre.

	2006.01.30  15.25 love is a cold sometimes i read fancy modern home architecture books and pretend we live in one together. pretend we live in both the home, and inside the book. we always have a japanese square tub, though. that's how i love- with consistence. you would, i'm assuming, rather i wrote consistency. because that's how you love- with rigidity. but you have to know both forms of the word are acceptable. in Scrabble, and in pillow talk.

	2006.01.30  14.02 a wee bit sick. closer still to my goals. men = ick. i have been known to have some fabulous men come my way. my ex-husband, while not perfect, is someone who never gave up on me and to this day, still treats me with respect, laughs at my jokes and offers his help when he can. no matter how many times a boy would come along and break my heart, it seems like neal is just always there to help me get on my feet again. i am pretty thankful for him because his patience has allowed me to become a better person. someone not so needy- i can actualyl elt go if rejected now. which is a mighty accomplishment for me. i am sick today. i have learned the "social smoker" doesn't work for someone who really doesn't smoke, which i don't. this perplexes me because i am a tad afraid i won't be able to go to that club any more now. the smoke just HANGS in there. it's terrible. anyway, my lungs hurt then went into this tizzy of being filled with mucous and my ears are totally infected feeling. grr. ah well. it's probably best if i just hang out on fridays with people i always do anyway. branching out did what? let's see: i had sex with [who i thought] was a pretty awesome guy, only to not get called back and then get lied to on top of that. [i thought only virgos were the casual liars?] i think i've dated every star sign there is. the only ones i get along with are scorpios and cancers. yet, i keep getting these damn virgos and libras. enough with the libras. scott was a libra too. they are so fucking mild mannered and aloof i cannot take it. it just makes my strong-headed capricorn want to pick fights. but i'll admit, [most] of the libras i have amazing sex with. like the sex is hot. [usually.] anyway, my goal to be at 199 by tomorrow is not gonna happen. i am not sure if i am just waterlogged [pms time] again and i have a bunch of extra stuff hanging around because of that or what - but i am still 5 pounds from that goal. just not gonna happen. very disappointing. especially when i know for a fact am doing the work needed to reach these goals. i don't knwo if i'll ever get out fo the 200s. it's really a pisser. maybe i just want it too much? i know one thing, i am not going to take diet pills or start wrecking my body and mind over it. yeah, sure - it is really frustrating... but starving myself doesn't seem like a valuable tool in the long run. i'm still down three more pounds from last week. it would be much more, but again, i woke up one day and had a lot of excess water weight [3 pounds actually] so i am not sweating it. it's nothing to complain about really. i'm just in a foul mood. it's probably a combination of pms and being sick. it'll blow over soon. anyway, my libido has been for naught. i had an "incident" last week when i had sex with someone- where i just could not get wet. it was like 5am and i was really dehydrated, so i mean, i knwo why it happened. plus i was tired as hell. but the thing is- i just felt like i "lost it" as i imagine a man feels if he has a hard time staying or getting hard. and anyway, this really zapped my sexual energy. now i just have no drive at all. even touching myself feels lame. i'm just gonna chalk this month up to beginner's dumb fucking luck. 2006 has got to improve.