Until death do us part

I doubt most married couples laugh as much or as hard as the faux husband and I do whenever we are together.

(please note our unintentional color coordination, which I didn't realize until I saw this picture)

Ruiner

5’6”

Wendyrella in boots.

That’s what we marked on the kitchen column, while drinking champagne, and waiting for turkey.
My boots immortalized, along with me, until a coat of white paint.
Later, alone, and down to the end, we couldn’t get them off fast enough. You ripped the zipper apart and threw the boot to the side.
“That can never be fixed”, I thought for a millisecond, “but I have others”.
We broke those two months later.

I just bought new ones. Images of you/me/us were in my head while I tried them on. I blushed. This is the first time I can recall being sad that a new purchase will not be destroyed.

The Cheat is grounded!

I have a terrible habit of eradicating electronic communications from people I date, so as not to obsess later. It's the slight argument for letter writing, they feel more special and less easily destroyed. But emails and texts quickly go to DELETED! (didn't even intend to make a strongbad reference there, in this homestar based post, huh)

anyway, The Cheat has been in my head lately for lots of sentimental reasons. I was promised my very own one. However, I lost proof of that. But, I thought it might be nice to have these handy.

go forth and enjoy his work!

here.

and most importantly, here

Prison of the Rhythm

http://beta.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif
I first heard the Golden Palominos when I was working at Urban Outfitters in 1993. " This is How it Feels" was one of the few albums that constantly played that I didn't tire of immediately. The album is a conceptual interpretation of Graham Greene's novel, "The End of the Affair". A novel that reminds me of train stations, uncontrollable bleeding, and taking a chance on a boy. But that is a different memory. Instead, in 1993, this album helped me through so much, with thoughtful and compelling lyrics and vocals. It was at a time when music still spoke to the depths of my soul, and I thought it could save me.

A few nights ago, I posted lyrics from that album. There are days when I feel as if I am the only one who remembers them. But, in all things serendipitous, the Nursefusion was just advised to read Graham Greene. Which made me feel as if timing, life, the universe, the fluidness of reality was asking me to think more on this novel and this album.

Anton Fier and Bill Laswell did an amazing job with this project. Read the book, buy the album. Track five, "To a Stranger", actually uses the last sentences from chapters as starting off points in lyrics. It was one of the last times that an album just managed to blow me away, time after time.

In the height of being suicidal when I had already promised that I wouldn't do it again, these lines ran through my head almost daily:

a promise is a promise
until the time you break it
nothing is forever
when you can forsake it

The complete lyrics:

prison of the rhythm
used to be a habit
now it is the measure
sex the only pleasure

think you are an angel
put me through the whole hell
speed it up to love time
over like a sex-crime

dizzy from the fucking search I seek the love of God

I knew it when you told me
you meant it when you said it
I never could believe it
I really should forget it

a promise is a promise
until the time you break it
nothing is forever
when you can forsake it

dizzy from the fucking search I seek the love of God

it's just a reflex
just the soul text
sleeping and awaking
taking and taking
it's a hunger only skin-deep
another one I can't keep
I dream you are the lost part
blame it on a soft heart

I thought I could trust you
but I don't even want to
what's it even good for?
always out the back door

empty as a tin can
angry as a jealous man
working with the same plan
doing it all again

dizzy from the place I spend all day and night
trying to tell myself that I can get it right
turning the world into the middle of my bed
turning the world into the hold inside my

really just a reflex
really just the soul text
sleeping and awaking
taking and taking

dizzy from the fucking search I seek the love of God

synchronicity? serendipity? reality?

Today, I was reminded of Leni Riefenstahl for no apparently good reason. It's been about 10 years since I last saw a clip of one of her movies. And, I don't really know that I've thought of her since her death 3 years ago.

But this morning, she popped into my head.

Then, while researching movie times for my night out with Steve Sweet, I saw this . It offers no explanation, no synopsis. Is it about Leni Riefenstahl? Searches have left me cold. Is it a figment of my imagination?

I had a similar experience last year, when Wittgenstein and Spinoza kept turning up in the weirdest places, days after I had referenced them in my journal or in conversation.

I thought I was really clever when, on a terrible hallucinogenic trip, I was convinced I had invented Donnie Darkio and Mulholland Drive to explain my death dream sequence. But hell, if I invented Wittgenstein, Spinoza and Riefenstahl...I'm brilliant.

Here it is 3AM and I'm still wide awake

Here it is morning again
life unstoppable
I'd open my eyes if it were still possible
Just tell me why
tell me why
tell me why

There were days
when I thought we could
Don't know why
that was when no one does
There were days
when I did not dream
We could hurt this way but two can play
Twist the knife
twist the knife

Over and over and over and over
And over and over

It was in your voice
It was in your eyes
It was in your body
It was in the room
I could always feel it
It wrote my dreams
It stole my peace
It robbed my sleep

Here it is 3AM and I'm still wide awake
I think in circles and circles are hard to break
Just tell me why tell me why tell me why

Trust contains the seed of betrayal
But also of something higher beyond the fire
You're not the exception
it's the rule
You know any fool can just give it away
Can just give it away
twist the knife

Over and over and over and over
And over and over

It was in your voice
It was in your eyes
It was in your body
It was in the room
I could always feel it
It wrote my dreams
It stole my peace
It robbed my sleep

Some things are fragile and some irresistable
Some things are easy and some irreplaceable
Just tell me why
tell me why
tell me why

There were days when time could have stopped
When it was enough to be in your love
There were days
but those days are gone
Those days are gone
twist the knife

Over and over and over and over
And over and over

-all hail the Golden Palominos

Me and the boys

It may seem unnecessary to say that these photos are from Halloween, but you never can tell with peeps. *sigh* I still have the PPD (post peep depression - a symptom which occurs after any extended peep-centric event)

Me and Missy

I can't stand the rain. Yes, I understand that I live in the PNW, but the rain here is usually more of a constant drizzle, a misting, if you will. I don't even own an umbrella, I just throw on a hat. But it's been like Old Testament rain for the past few days. My basement is flooded and the service chimney in my room has become the soothing water treatment I've always wanted, for my back yard! I feel like I'm living in Alaska, as it's been dark since last Wednesday. And it doesn't show signs of stopping anytime soon.

My seasonal affected disorder shouldn't be kicking in for at least another 2 months. I have a feeling it will be a long winter.

I am trying to break your heart

and you apparently aren't taking the hint.

Over at Will's, he has a post "You had me at shut up and bite down", in which he asks readers to recount moments when they knew someone wasn't "the one". Reading through the comments made me sad, mostly because of the terrible things people we love are capable of doing. I considered commenting, because I'm obviously in the not having found "the one" category. But then I realized my problem is quite different. For me, people have done things that very clearly let me know that I was(am) wasting my time, but yet, I still tried(try) to figure out how to make it work.

examples:
1. I'm going to move back in with my ex-girlfriend, but I can still imagine marrying
you.

2. I'm going to move to LA, but I see us together in about 10 years. (I believe the
"after I try and fuck movie star wannabees and models" was implied)

3. If you move back from Portland I can't promise that anything will be any
different, but at this very moment I want you here.

4. I know I have an extremely small dick, but I'm still going to break up with you
first.

You all get the point. I'm realizing I'm pretty screwed.

Guess what?

I can hula hoop in my room. I discovered this last week when I was up til 5am on a Wednesday due to the normal nocturnal behavior, anxiety and general sleep disorder.

The boys were here, and it was awesome.

Non-Quinault Halloween was still pretty kick ass!

I have a heater in my room for the first time since moving to Oregon. Not sure if that makes me happy or sad, because it eliminates the need for a winter boyfriend.

I only have 5 more weeks of classes. Ever. Until my next degree. Next term, I teach the whole time. I graduate May 5th.

The peeps get more wonderful everytime I get an email. A peep storycorps project of sorts has been going on and for the past few days my inbox has been flooded with wonderful memories of peeps and the mystical spyann. Thanks T2 for arranging!