Post Whatever You Are Thinking At This Very Moment

Mars kissing the Moon...

Luna-sobre-marte.jpg


... or the eclipse of Mars
 
i had to tell myself that im lazy , im unremarkable ,theres not a lot going on , im tthe laziest person you could meet perhaps not lazy just terribly depressed everything is too much effort
Be glad your spine isn't collapsing in on itself. Mine is :cry:
 
i like bing this way though ive resigned myself to the fact im never going to amount to much theres strength in being crap ad knowing yu are.
I'm reading a book about a serial killer who mainly targeted gay men and boys. He'd kill them and then have sex with their corpses. He counted on them being thought of as crap, by the police.
 
i love being crap at life id start to worry if it became too easy becuse at least im still feeling but i think i would quite like to be shallow .
Just as you posted this, I'd finished reading these words.
"He was gregarious and well-liked by everyone who he crossed paths with, and even if his relationships were all quite shallow, they were also universally positive. He had a laundry list of casual friends and even more casual lovers stretching back to his teenage years."
 
im 51 and ive never had a partner . it would seem like a whole new worldto me. ive been on my own for so long. even having having a best friend would feel extraordinary. it wouldnt take much. what seems normal to everyone else is just something i cant find.
I've had many 'partners' but they were all pricks.
 
What I wrote today, continuing from above:

Charlie also had Max pull him around, using a harness attached to his wheelchair. Max always had a muzzle on for that activity. Once, Charlie came home and told me he and Max had a tumble, and that Max tried to rip his guts out. *sigh* Is it any wonder? I remember being in the back of the van, as Charlie drove away from Max, who was chained up on the ice in the backyard. I recall helping Charlie fix his van, and then him throwing his tools around in anger, willy nilly, just missing me. I remember Max running beside my bicycle, on a leash attached to my bike, and he was play biting me, but his excitement kept mounting, until I could sense he was merging into kill mode. I yelled his name, and he snapped out of it. No more indulging play biting with poor Max.

To be continued…

Charlie ended up giving Max to his friend Brian. We took off to Calgary, and then, when it didn’t work out for us there, we went to Vancouver, where we moved in with Chris, which I wrote about, above. Now I’ll jump ahead to where I left off earlier in this memoir, where I was suddenly spellbound, by my own projection of a super compassionate person, on Chris.

I got so high on being in love with my projection, that it was a cinch to quit smoking. I decided that I wanted to quit, to make myself more pleasing to Chris, who smoked himself. The women’s employment orientation course ended, for all the good it did me, and I began going to a psychiatric day program, because my social worker decided to send me there, due to my poor time management capabilities. The psychiatrist there interviewed me for all of 5 minutes. The conversation was simply me asking him if me not being able to say no to my boyfriend was unhealthy. He said no, and diagnosed me with 3 labels; post traumatic stress disorder, social stressors, and borderline personality disorder.

While I was enrolled in the program, the class went to Gastown, in a special bus just for us, and after a visit to the Sun Yet garden (I think that’s what it’s called.), we went to a Chinese restaurant. Chris just happened to be visiting his friend Bruce on Carral street nearby in the downtown east side, so I went to pay a visit before it was time to meet at the bus. I ended up staying quite a while, and the next day, my program counselor was furious with me for having disappeared. She’d been worried. I hadn’t been well socialized, so I hadn’t realized how they’d worry.

Another incident, was that a young man in the program was trying to play hockey in the gym, and stormed off saying he just couldn’t do it. I yelled something sympathetic to him. I liked him, but soon my counselor summoned me to her office. Again she was furious with me. She said that another woman in the program complained to her that I had yelled out insults to the man in the gym who had given up on playing hockey. God she was angry at me!

Another day, in the morning just as it was time to leave to go to the program (which Chris always referred to as “day care”), Chris held me down on his futon bed, and kept me there pinned, so long, that I was quite late for the program. As I attempted to join the class, the instructor told me that my counselor had expelled me from the program. I asked if I could sit in the coffee room to write her a letter, and he told me yes, so I did, but it made no difference, though I could see, when the instructor checked in on me, he was sympathetic. So, thanks Chris!

One time, Chris was withholding my bus pass, just to be a dick, when his friend Ken called. When I started talking about my bus pass, Chris quickly gave it to me, obviously because he didn’t want Ken to find out what a prick he was. Another time, Chris and I went to his friend Bruce’s room in the DTES, and I volunteered to pick up beer for Chris and myself. Seated in Bruce’s room, Chris started drinking my beers. When I objected, he told me to “Shut the f*** up, bitch!”, and kept on drinking them, not his own.

Chris then inquired about some prescription medication Bruce had, that Chris wanted for himself. Bruce held out the bottle, and I took all the pills, though I didn’t even know what they were, just to deprive Chris of them, in retaliation for him taking my beers and calling me ‘bitch' etc. I also remember picking up Bruce’s scissors, and chopping off my long hair, in fury. The next thing I knew, I woke up in hospital, and was told by the nurses and doctors that I might die, because my heart might stop. They’d pumped my stomach and given me charcoal to drink.

Chris was there, acting all concerned. He had shaved off my pubic hair while I’d been comatose, it turned out. Decades later, Chris would reveal to me that he was angry at me for taking Bruce’s clutching hand off my thigh once. A real bitch, aren’t I!

One time, I was hopping around in Chris’s apartment, laughing and teasing him with my words. To me, I was being good natured, but he, didn’t take it that way. He flung a wooden cutting board into my thigh. Charlie and his new girlfriend Catherine came out to Vancouver from Montreal, and Catherine at one point stuck her tongue down my throat. Another time, I saw her pilfering Chris’s change jar. I remember she often said she could die for a hamburger. I was vegetarian at the time, and was disgusted to hear such a pretty girl lust to eat cow corpses.

To be continued…
 
Last edited:
Wow. Overpriced mail AND phones. The powers that be in Canada really don't want people to communicate, do they? Is there also a tax on ink and pigeons?
oh pep, i got my coat! it's ammaaaaazzziiiiiing. at first when i took it out of the bag i was like "oh..." because it's the colour of a burlap sack stained with dried blood, but marni coats tend to have the transformative power of fairy tale coats that become something entirely different when you put them on. even though the colour makes me look a bit sallow, at the same time i recognize that the coat wouldnt be as good if it were any other colour and the shape is absolutely perfect, and the look of it is both a bit rustic-y like something the mouse girl would wear, and 1950's ballerina elegant, which is to say it is THE PERFECT COAT. now i am content. finding a marni coat is like finding yourself again. it is the only thing for when you find yourself living in a nightmare dystopian world. i think im going to include a chapter in my memoir on marni coats because they are SO much a part of me. it is like consuelo castiglione has seen into my soul and given me back a visual representation using bits of tailored cloth.
 
This is an adult forum. You embarrass all its members and bring the quality of the forum down when you post stuff like this. Cringe is not a strong enough word to describe what I'm guessing is the majority of our reactions. Urbanus is only encouraging you because he likes watching train wrecks and other things of highly questionable content.
I'm embarrassed to be posting on the same site as you.
 
Never ending bingo game
You create the prizes
In the meantime
You keep criminally cruel
Based on petty grievances
Never making the connection
The realization
That you're coming back again
 
Okay who needs a cuddle and some sleep. You be gold pillows I’ll be me. Night night.
F277F779-4D3F-45DD-928B-D01E80A1589C.jpeg
 
someone told me i had nice eyeballs today which i thought was funny. at first she said i had nice eyes but then she seemed the need to clarify that (maybe so i didnt think she meant my saggy eyelids are nice) and said "like, you have nice eyeballs". i laughed and said "nice eyeballs? i've never heard anyone say that before" and she was just like "yeah" as though it wasnt weird. well, not that i mind. ive always been rather terrified of getting sickly gross muddy looking eyeballs like so many people have, so it's nice to hear that i dont (yet).
 
Self discipline
My new toy
More exciting than a boy
Making lists
Crushing them in my fists
A life worth living
Commands a transition
From sullen sloth
To a refreshing froth
 
Tags
* no social life frink advice artie lange awesome bitching blush bored brooms candies chat cheese with your whine? college is tough companionship complaining epiphany episiotomy friendships funny happy i think u stink just lust moaning never to be replaced rabid monkey sad suck my teeth sweet caroline wowzers
Back
Top Bottom