The Party Downstairs

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I don’t consider myself a bad person nor do I consider myself a good one either, well depends on the day of the week. However, when the day comes and my days on earth have ended, I know that there will not be an invitation for me to enter Vallhalla. I’m 99% percent sure, that I’ll probably be directed towards the stairs with big, dark, red neon signs, that read “Hotter as you keep going down”. I’m not saying that I’ve done some super shitty things in my life, like some other people I may know, but I also don’t think that I’m meant to be in nirvana city. Where everything seems to be so good, pure and untouchable. Where someone’s playing some lovely music, as big G watches upon us and tell us story from back in the day, as I sip my tea in a outfit made by angels, while mingle with the departed. No!, that’s not going to happen, no way no how homie! I might likely be wearing a hideous red or black suit, while sweating my naughty balls off, eat hot Mike & Ike’s, as the try to vanish what left of my soul. I’m being very dramatic and sarcastic as fuck; I mean what soul, right? However, if this is my calling and my hand basket was been prepared, with my name written in some fancy font. Then I had better be the only one in the room, which they fear…, sorry Big Red!

My Heart Is A Lonely Hunter

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I’m not a big foam fingered number 1 fan of the word Love! When I hear, people talk about Love or when they say shit like “Making Love”! It makes me want to throw up the food I consumed last week and the week before that! Explain to me how someone, anyone would call what we do to each and each other’s body parts, while we’re performing these acts in the bedroom, kitchen, moving car and other places, making Love? Our canal aggression toward each other is not Love, it more like horny lust times 10!

While I would like to sit here and bitch about the phrase “Making Love”, without making faces or gagging. This post is not about that! It’s more on how the word Love, can make the smartest person. Turn blind, drunk and gullible with dose of Love. While the word might sound nice to people (As yours truly once thought), it really has no meaning. Sure, you can look it up in the dictionary and fine the definition of the word. However, how do you know what real Love is? No definition can really explain, what this made up feeling really is. While you think, your heart is filled with it. You probably just have really bad heartburn.

To me the word Love, mean pain, heartache, no good and useless. Perhaps you may think that I’m being a bit dramatic (As usual), or I just had my heart broken! However, I’m not speaking from experience. I’m talking as an eyewitness, who has seen the effects that this word has done to people. I’ve also seen the aftermath of said word, which now has vanished from there warm blooded veins and in its place. An injection of pain and dissolution, that would make the most seasoned heroin addict, stop cold turkey.

So before, you start throwing your heart and this empty meaning word around, like a baseball or a child of divorce. Really, think to yourself “Is this worth getting hurt for?” “Is this what I really want?” While it might be nice and sweet to say, “show” or express the word Love. It really is nothing more, then a bunch of words put together. Save the waste and tears for those who still believe in the sentiment. For they one day to shall wake up in disbelieve and hopefully before it too late.


Distant Climber

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These past couple of days has been a blur of, dazed busyness and the relentless feeling of ennui. Maybe it’s these upcoming holidays, which feels more like an endless chore. Full of Christmas list, parties’ dejour, waiting in line for what seems like hours, and trying to find the prefect present for someone. Who might not even give you one in return, after you spent all that time and money on them. However, my mood has been mostly concerned with what will happen next year. I never really looked forward for the year ahead. While others are excited with glee, about the possibilities that the New Year will bring them. I fear that my New Year’s outlook will be nothing but the same, nothing or worse.

While I’m probably having some paranoid android about these stomach cramping feels. I’m just not one to look forward to new things, which will benefit others in a better way, instead of benefiting me. It’s as if I have this huge mountain ahead of me and instead climbing up with steady and ease. I just can’t seem to get to the top and all I do is fall back to the bottom. I always thought I would at least get half way there, but I guess that not in the cards. Sure, I might be getting a little ahead of myself and I know I can’t predict the future, and I can’t dwell on the past, as I do so well. However, that mountain of mine is starting to look more and more difficult to climb. No matter the slow steps, I take to conquer it!

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Femme Fatal

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Here she comes
You better watch your step
She’s going to break your heart in two
It’s true

It’s not hard to realize
Just look into her false colored eyes
She builds you up to just put you down
What a clown

‘Cause everybody knows
The thing she does to please
She’s just a little tease
See the way she walks
Hear the way she talks

-Velvet Underground

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Hello Kitty!

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For the past couple of posts now, I’ve been obsessively take photos of my models, with this soft, furry concoction of a coat. I got it at Forever 21 a couple of weeks ago. My niece picked it out and ever since then, it’s been love a first plush. I kind of wish they made one in my size; however Forever 21’s men section is a sad displace of “WTF are you thinking?” That’s another story for another blog post rant. I usually return everything I have my models wear, after a photo shoot. However, I can’t say goodbye to this baby. In addition, Forever 21 is notorious for not letting you return shit for your money back. Therefore, I guess I’ll stay with this coat and I don’t even care if I don’t get the money back. It was worth every penny!

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Bury Your Secrets In Me!

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For the past year, I’ve been seeing someone to talk about my problems. You might call them a therapist, but I like to think of them, as a “friend” you can talk to for a about an hour, who also accept insurance. Now, I’m not one to open a box of tissues and just weep out my emotions and whatnot to just anybody. Come to think of it, I haven’t really done that with anybody, other than my best friend Patty. However, for some reason is always nice to talk to a stranger, with a pen and paper, while there hard earn degree hangs up on their wall.

Today though that feeling of security as gone to shit. You see, when you talk to these so-called professionals. You think they’ll always be there for you and never really leave you. They’re like your emotional raggedy dolls, that you can stuff your secrets and worries with, and know that they will sew it up inside themselves forever. Never to reveal what you’ve told them. That was very comforting for me, but now comfort has turn into sadness and all I feel is alone again. For the second time in a row, my therapist as gone and left me. No call, no explanation, no nothing. They move on to bigger and better things (In this case my therapist opened up her own practice) and taken the things you’ve shared with them.

I could just see another therapist, but I can’t just start all over again…again. It’s not that easy! I guess it’ll take sometime for me to be over this lost. Sure, you might say people come and go (I’ve said that plenty of times myself before), but you never think, that your therapist would be a fair weathered person. Just comes to show you, that nothing really last forever. Not even your so called relationship with the people you sort of trust with your feelings with!