Something to think about

I'm watching a film staring Heath Ledger and I think about two weeks before he died. He bummed a ciggy off of me outside of my apartment and was humble and kind. As I walked away shivering with delight at his beauty, I thought ...man it would be really amazing to wake up beside that man every day. Maybe someday I can sit down with him and at least have small talk. I wish I would have done what I wanted to. Kidnap him and cuff him to my bed....what if I followed through with that plan?

This thing called you and I

I am a fraud. I am a fake, a charlatan, imposter, phony and please don't make me pull out my thesaurus and start finding more words about who I am.

I’m the person who is sick to death with life but is making strides in improving it, in her own way. I’m intolerant and lackluster. I would rather watch a quality film then go out on a date, have coffee with a friend or go to any kind of sporting event. I usually find solace in booze but even that is getting boring. So the booze kick is now on hold indefinitely. See, that's the thing with me; when things become uninteresting or unappealing to me, I throw them away. I get them out of my life because they stopped serving a purpose. Will I go back? It's possible. Things have started organizing themselves. The universe usually takes care of that for me. The change has begun.

Seeing you on the elevator, I tried to ask you a question. It didn't work and it was because I had a massive crush on you. Seeing you made my heart skip a beat and my stomach sick. I tried to gain composure and I accomplished that, almost with ease and precision because that’s why I do when I have a crush. I go to great lengths to conceal how I feel and I do it. I don't think you noticed. I don't think you ever did or will. Actually, that's a relief to me. I wouldn't know how to act with you if I had you. Even being in the same room with you I feel your presence at 30 feet away from me. It's humbling and maddening and I don't enjoy it. It's that loss of control that maddens me. I am with the guys that are mediocre; they don't bring that out, my extreme vulnerability. They don't make my heart get excited, they are not very interesting or fun but they are safe. Safe. It's a sad world that I can't talk to you about how I feel and when I have spoken to you about anything through various lines of communication, I come off as commonplace, decrepit, and bonkers and that makes me scared and frustrated. What would happen if I got you alone? What if you enjoyed it? What if I did too? What if we were so happy it finally was there and so scared it was going to go away. I miss those feelings. Those feelings I don't think I ever really had anyway.

God I sound like a fucking psycho.

My dreams involve me combing my hair

The funny thing about George Michael is that I loved him when I was a girl and I also had a thing for Boy George. I’ll Tumble For Ya, not written with a woman in mind. Father Figure, not for a girl either. I have finally left the days where I found gay men attractive in a sexual way. Quite honestly, I have not fancied a man without some sort of 5-o'clock shadow and a chip on his shoulder in almost long as I can remember. I take that back. David had a boulder on his shoulder and sounded a bit femme on the telephone. I still don't regret leaving him.

I am watching the World Trade Center episode of the Simpsons. It chills me for the bone. I really wish I had a pipe to smoke to relax me. Sarah, I told you today I will start smoking a pipe. I had one a long time ago and enjoyed it. I will purchase a wonderful Stanwell pipe filled with delicious cherry tobacco that reminds me of boarding school. That will be my next investment. I have to decide if I want to buy an Estate pipe or a New pipe. The idea of a stranger breaking in my pipe kind of scares me, but breaking in a new pipe is a pain in the ass. These are things I will contemplate throughout the evening. I will buy the pipe tomorrow along with some teeth whitener.

I wrote a 6-word story for a co-worker and new friend. Revenge is on the phone again. Hemingway always inspires me. His was as follows; for Sale: Baby Shoes. Never worn. I know, mine was better.