I miss you so much it hurts :(

'it'sallaboutthehesaidshesaidbullshit' -LB

Dear K,
This is what he said:
Sean: "I thought about what you said to me the other day, about my painting. I stayed up half the night thinking about it. Something occurred to me. I fell into a deep peaceful sleep. I haven't thought about you since. Do you know what occurred to me? You're just a kid. You don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about."


Dear D,
This is what they said,
Will: You ever heard the saying any port in the storm?
Sean: Yeah.
Will: Maybe that means you.
Sean: In what way?
Will: Maybe you're in the middle of a storm a big fucking storm. The skies falling on your head. The waves are crashing over your little boat. The ores are about to snap. You're just pissing your pants. You're crying for the harbor. So, maybe you did what you got to do to get out. You know maybe you became a psychologist.
Sean: Bingo that's it. Let me do my job now.
Will: Maybe you married the wrong woman.
Sean: Maybe you should watch your mouth. Watch it right there chief all right.
Will: That's it isn't it? You married the wrong woman. What happened? What she leave you? Was she, ya know banging some other guy?
Sean: If you ever disrespect my wife again I will end you. I will fucking end you! Got that chief?
Will: Times up.
Sean: Yeah.
*

And the rest is :

Sean: You don't know about real loss, because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. I doubt you dared to love anybody that much.

*
Customer: Cute cat. What's his name?
Randal Graves: Annoying customer.
Customer: [grabs pack of cigarettes] Fuckin' dickhead.

*

Chewlies Gum Representative: "You're spending what? Twenty, thirty dollars a week on cigarettes... Fifty-three dollars. Would you pay someone that much money every week to kill you? Because that's what you're doing now, by paying for the so-called privilege to smoke!... It's that kind of mentality that allows this cancer-producing industry to thrive. Of course we're all going to die someday, but do we have to pay for it? Do we actually have to throw hard-earned dollars on a counter and say, "Please, please, Mr. Merchant of Death, sir; please sell me something that will give me bad breath, stink up my clothes, and fry my lungs... Of course it's not that easy to quit; not when you have people like this mindless cretin so happy and willing to sell you nails for your coffin... Now he's going to launch into his rap about how he's just doing his job; following orders. Friends, let me tell you about another bunch of hate mongers that were just following orders; they were called Nazis, and they practically wiped a nation of people from the Earth... just like cigarettes are doing now! Cigarette smoking is the new Holocaust, and those that partake in the practice of smoking or selling the wares that promote it are the Nazis of the Nineties! He doesn't care how many people die from it! He smiles as you pay for your cancer sticks and says, "Have a nice day."

*

Arresting Officer: Sir, could I please see your license?
Pedro: Whuut?
Arresting Officer: Your license. Where's your license?
Pedro: It's back there on the bumper, man!
Arresting Officer: No, I mean your DRIVER'S license.
Pedro: Oh yeah, I got the bullshit back here man...
[gets license with great difficulty]
Pedro: Hey I thought'a somethin' really funny, man... Your mother!
[laughs]
Arresting Officer: [after dirty look, of course] Sir, what's your name?
Pedro: uuhhh... Isn't in on the license, man? Yeah, that's it! Pedro De Pacas, man, that's my name...

*

Border Guard: So, how long you've been in Mexico?
Pedro: A week. I mean a day.
Border Guard: Well, which is it? A week or a day?
Pedro: A weekday

*

Sgt. Stedenko: Now just how well do you know that freak with the basketball?
Unknown: Which basketball?
Sgt. Stedenko: Which basketball?

And Toto said:

"What?"

Say what again, Say What Again, I dare you, I double dare you motherfucker. Say what one more goddamn time.

Pussy Art

On the other hand:

(Sleepymaggie)

"The writer must be able to revel and roll in the abundance of words; he must know not only the direct but also the secret powers of the word. There are overtones and undertones to a word, and lateral chaos, too" - Knut Hamsun (Norwegian Novelist)

Looking in from out here:

I build cities on my wrists and raze them. 
[I write letters on my knees and erase them.]
22 Apr 2003

kanika, 

let me say this now, while we still trust our voices, while our voices are young and bluescarred and beautiful.

let me say this when the evening is liquid beauty and bottled up, everything glimmering and out of reach. it is spring, your words on my windowpane. let me say the light is different, I can finally see. it is violent, dreadful, I sleep with your words & never wake without fear, all chronic coughing and exhaustion. this light, your words, & I can see I will die young & hard in my bones; let me say lay me in the grave of our terminal girlhoods. 

all your text, let me say, it's remorseless. it's vaginal desolation. it's walking backwards to the temple it's ringing bells with tongues it's pissing in the holy water it's licking the lips of gods. let me say it's asking priests how to fuck. it's get your hands off my mouth and on my breasts, it's come on what the fuck are you waiting for, it's are you still pretending you're not moved. it's electric blue laughs and cellophane complexities and foxtrot elegies. 

let me say, it's gorgeous desperation. it's feline madness and saucers full of dreams. it's gingham dresses and bleeding wrists. it's fallow fields and a tiger lily. let me say I know you make promises so you can hear the sound of their splinters. let me tell you I know you by your scars. let me wonder myself sick and vomit your papercut stars. it's boyfuck shimmy. it's 'heartache' written in sparkle. it's 'love' written in spit. 

let me say this now: shut up, shut up, you are ruining me.

K.A.

*****

This post is documentation and evidence, of my attachment, her beauty, my growth, her message, my turbulence, her intensity, my explosions, her projection, my ego, her spirit and my death:

I paste this here as a reply and to remind myself that words, in this amendment, in this cycle and my reflection of the world are manipulative mirrors of everything that must not be spoken of. No more than photobooth effects on a mac and 0101s in a .txt. I cannot let words go because they're a volatile, consequential mode without which I would *feel* directionless, motionles, stagnent, scared and seperate.

A personal realization of mine is that my lust and trust for words at this stage is less credible in comparison to still/moving visuals, music, silence and touch.

Tools are Tools
Abuse is Abuse
That is This.

And I'm trying, K : )

*

RAM/ROM 29903

The rain is warm and the leaves are melting melting melting,
(This isn’t the first storm I’ve been in,
that just refuses to let up)

I feel something wet dripping onto my shoulders and tilt my head back to see all the colour sliding from the trees,
then I squeeze my eyes shut as it bleeds into puddles of muddy jade on the footpath, and leaves inky emerald stains to spread across my sleeves.

I can hear every drop fall and splatter on the pavement, unceasing, as I shiver once, cough twice and wonder what’s left...

The birds cry as the bricks shift and ache in their cold walls and a man hurries by, holding something close to his chest and I wonder if it’s precious or broken or alive, (Because I’m living proof you can be all those things, at the same time)
and there’s something soothing about the rivers of green running past my ankles.

I glance skyward again and let go of the only breath I thought I could hold, because today I see nothing but black branches,
against sky.

***
Question This:

What is the confusing this thats almost imploding on itself?

"Do you really need a reply? A reply is but symapthy, advise, or yet another gatecrash into your emotions." - Toto Vellani

*

Question That:

Pertaining to my question on headfuckage by an insatiatable proliferation of love towards an impalable 'that', Kanupriya on msn years ago said:

"Distance only as a ploy, a poetic
Device, a means to make the end
Magnificent."

***