the speed of dark

the woman enters her apartment, she is drunk and it is dark- after midnight
she moves toward the phone sees her landlord has called, it is the 17th and no rent,
she removes her right earring and places it on the table, presses the button that turns the
phone on and dials her lover- she hangs up after the second ring-
he doesn’t call her back.
she goes to the kitchen for a glass of water, drinks two glasses full and removes the other
earring placing it on the counter.
a good friend told her at dinner that she is a strong writer and doesn’t need school.
the woman beamed, then embarassed, frowned dramatically
but she is without direction, like every other person she knows, even those who
have made their choices are only sure for moments.
she goes to her bed and hopes that in the morning she will remember she
left her earrings in two places.

this is my announcement to you all that i didn’t get into school. i’m over it so don’t worry about lending a sympathetic arm. if you can’t be part of the system you have to work around it right. or apply to the art institute of bend over boyfriend since thats where i claim to attend. so, now i have this new computer, its awesome but doesn’t want to talk to printers. this is better than community of academia that i thought i was going to enter into. ok, i normally don’t update this, but if you read it you should submit your small happy paragraph asap because its going to be born……………..BORN I SAY.

https://bannerweb.apps.uillinois.edu/BANPROD/bwskasta.P_DispStatusSaradap?appno=1

hehhehhahahahhehhehehehhe.

hi. i took the gre today. big fucking deal right? why does that shit have to make you feel so dumb about everything. why do i care how well i did? WHY? TELL ME. ahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. 

to learn about bacteria based on a project that garth and i did in highschool, please read my livejournal. i can’t possibly be the only person on this earth amused by it.

Not everyone has a boyfriend as cool as Johnny Bingo.  At least, I’d feel safe in saying that I’m in the minority, or perhaps the one and only.  The one and only girlfriend to the one and only Johnny Bingo. 

Johnny and I met in under casual circumstances.  It was the usual type of first meeting.  THe same kind of silly, dumb memory that many couples have, that seems sweet even a zillion years later.

You see I’ve been in and out of the local pysche wards fora  good portion of my "adult life." For some reason or another I am either taking too many illegal drugs (or not enough prescription ones-though that remains debatable), or I’m trying to kill myself.  I’m a firm believer that depressed people just know a thing or two more than the average contented soul about how fucked up our world is and how its all gonna go to shit.  So occasionally, I want out.  It’s just not cool to feel hopeless.

But I keep failing and ending up in the ER bitching at the nurses who by law have to tie me to the bed by my wrists and ankles where I’ve recenlty shot into my veins so as to remain anonymous among the high profile drug users of the day.  And this is painful and unnecessary.  I’m not gonna off myself in the hospital, thats for sure, adn the nurses just don’t seem to understand hwo my nicotine dependence really puts me on edge and I need to step outside for a cigarette!

Usually, after a night in the ER I’m moved to the usual psyche ward of the hospital, whatever hopsital I’m in, full of crazy old alcoholics and suicidal teenagers.  I’ve met some pretty cool people in there, but I always come out ten pounds fatter and quite sure of my own sanity, for a few weeks or so, at least.

Nevertheless, a few months ago I was back in teh ward arguing with the staff about my determined "disorder" (i was a psyche major by, the, way, and I knew more about it than they did). ENough with this medicating the loud woman bullshit!  I knew what I was talking about.  This all went on during our group sessions.  NOw this time I kept noticing this really hot punk guy Johnny who was really sweet but had a majorly fucked uplife.  SHit happened to him that I promised not to write, but trust me, his life has SUCKED. SO we made a date that when we got out to go see Morrissey play.

Since then Johnny and I have spent every day (and night!) together.  He is like my ultimate soulmate, except he eats meat, but other than that we both want to overthrow the goverment sometime in between shooting Howard Stern and shooting heroin.  Johnny is such a feminist too.  He once go in trouble for punching a guy who was rude to his mother, so sweet.

Yeah, so we go to the moves together and we have a lot of great sex.  My mom’s really pissed cuz he’s only 16 and I’m 19, but I’vfe always said that age doesn’t amtter, and its not like he’s inexperienced.  He’s slept with 9 girls and has lived in Seattle!  ANd I’ve slept with 9 guys and I have always wanted to live in Seattle. 

I usually get bored with guys really fast but I just called a pyschic hotline and the woman knew all of this shit about me and said I was getting married within the year.  I never though I’d get married but I guess anything cna happen and I love Johnny, he’s so cute and sweet. 

PS. THis was handwritten, I found it today. I hope I wrote it while I was in highschool because its THAT GOOD, i mean..yeah…anyways, I am going through my shit in connecticut finding all this horrible and funny writing and on and on and if you really are interested (not that this story really pulled anyone in..) you should check out my livejournal instead..it is funnnier…if you’re lucky.

a bity update: dad is coming home today at some point. he’s waiting now in his room for a doctor he’s never met to come discharge him, then i will go straight to the hospital and get him.  its probably going to be a long slow process for him, but he’s ok! YIPEE. thank the lord jesus and satan and everyone else! i am cleaning stalls and buckets and feeding the horses and its so nice. mr. w is the nicest horse. nicer than any patient i’ve ever had! well, thats not true. but close. close. close but no cigar.  thank you to everyone who’s been the bomb throughout this long ass week that dropped straight from hell and then lifted up. again, if you really want to know whats going on you can read my livejournal. but, i don’t expect anyone to do that. 

in about fifteen minutes i am going with my mother to the st frances hospital to see my father on the 8th floor. cardiac ward. he just moved there from CICU which stands for cardiac intensive care unit.  in a few days i will come back to chicago for a short time and then back to CT again.  I am finding it difficult to believe that there is any place for me in Chicago now after what has happened to my father.  you always know one day you will see your parents ill, or dying, or dead. you always know. i mean, its one of my most dreaded thoughts i try to push away so daily life is still ok.  and then suddenly, out of the blue, it happens, and then looking back it seems like it could be seen a million years away.  my father will be alright, and i suppose there is no point dwelling on the fact that he almost died last wednesday, or perhaps, he did die but was shocked back to life.  the thought or memory is paralyzing.  my father is a well-loved man.  people have been bringing food to the house, calling constantly, short of breath themselves…to see him like this in the hospital is very difficult knowing that the healing process is long..knowing that it will one day be better..but trying to make him believe that…a whole other story.  its hard to think about anything else.

you were pulling up weeds every chance you got. one by one, you carefully pulled each flower up by its roots and layed them to rest in a pile. i remembered when we were children mom would give us a penny for each dandelion we could pull, and we believed we might get rich off of this death because every day there were always more.

when you found me watching one day, when you paused to look up and your solitary moment was gone, you told me this story about a humming bird. the humming bird never perches, you said, she will fly continuously until she dies, and she easily does. but this humming bird, your bird, did perch. she landed on a flower before you and turned her head and looked you in the eye. and then she left you. you said once she was gone you started to remember that there was a time you loved being alive.

i asked you, what about now? but you ignored me and kept on pulling.

i wanted to say there was a time i dreaded going home because of you, because i knew one day you would die. because i knew we spent our evenings awake contemplating the moment we would no longer have all of this. all of this? you would ask me. but you knew what i meant.

while you were comforted by your task of pulling weeds, i was comforted by my bats. i would retreat into the field by our house at night, yes, this is where i went when you worried i was out at the bar, out with the boys. all of those nights you could not sleep thinking i might not return, i was throwing rocks into the night sky to watch the bats dive blindly towards them. did you know i did this for hours, because i knew i would not sleep under the same roof as you, knowing you were heavy with fear.

because i occupy a different space and time, it is easy for me to say what i would do if i were you, right? that i would cut the cancer out of me. but it is hard for me to imagine taking care of you while you die. you’ve given me everything i’ve made of my life. and what else do you want? besides who your children are, who are paid a little more to do lesser things than put their hands in the dirt. are we not enough to let you go in peace?

and when your bird flew away that day, why is it that you stopped talking with me? why is it that once i became a woman you could not throw a ball for me to catch or ask me what i wanted any more. when we talk now you tell me certain things, how you watched a basketball game or had dinner with the neighbor. how you kill the weeds now with poison instead of your hands.