what a waste (of water)

The Bill O'Reilly interview of Obama is quite possibly the worst piece of "journalism" I have witnessed in my lifetime.

I wish I had a friend to share my outrage.

Pkoo.

Fuckin' goddamn Effexor withdrawal.
Fuck me. Always and forever.
Words will not save me, a fluttering piece of trash so colossally forgettable.
Once I had a home, once I had a heart. I knew what I had, it was a secret treasurous joy, and, helpless to stop it, I could do nothing but look it in its beautiful brown eyes as it scraped every scrap of my soul onto the floor and married me to dust under its turning heel.
How long does an empty shell stand?

good news

"Fair Labor Association Begins Inspections of Foxconn"

There's only two women in the world I would consider marrying.


I wish I could meet Kate Winslet.

In my secret life...

I would surprise her, she would be happy, and we would go together. Hand in hand.

http://vanmorrison.com/

My brain is like a pile of autumn leaves, a thick blanket in a fall drizzle.

If you had to narrow your life down to one moment as your fondest memory, could you do it?

Most of my beautiful memories are sunk by some kind of sorrow, heavy or heavier. But this one floats:

And that's only a remnant of the experience.

Advice on what to listen to...

Leonard Cohen's new album: Old Ideas.

Happiness eludes me. Like a butterfly.

Bloomsday: Dublin: Me: Brief contentment

Finally, my Joyce tattoo might be appreciated.

A dream(s) has left me nauseated.

I was in a made up bar that was extremely beautiful in a made up town in Ireland. I was with three dear friends. We were drinking and many fascinating characters filled our night with interactions. I was drinking from a bottle of Jameson and water on the side. But by night's end my friends were for some reason disgusted with me. They abandoned me and drove back in our one car to our hotel which was in a different city. The bar closed and I was left stumbling in my underwear, struggling to carry my bag and its contents which had spilled out onto the floor. I set everything on the ground outside and it blew away, in spite of the fact that there was no wind. I was crying for my friends, unclear as to why they had left me. And I was filled with self-loathing. I started walking home, lost in a panic.

---

Perhaps in a separate dream I found myself on a lawn that represented S's home and she was walking past me. I asked softly, hopefully, if she loved me still and she said no. In the dream I could feel my paper heart tearing into invisible crumbs. I begged for answers as to why we had parted and she, so cold and somewhat vicious toward me, said for starters it was because of calling and hanging up 20 times. Her answer contained something else though, some other interpretation of my own actions. I asked her, "Don't you understand why I did it?" The answer being the desire to repeatedly hear her voice, but she did not request the answer. She too was disgusted with me.

---

Sleep, why hast thou forsaken me.

"You can read the life you're living but you cannot change a word." - Leonard Cohen

In one sentence he said everything I've always meant.

Today I wrote a joke.

Why did the the 17th century visionary poet John Milton get upset at the craps table?

Because his pair a dice lost.

---

Yes.