:: Conjoined Cognition ::

:: Sunday, February 16, 2003 ::

well there's a girl i talk to online a lot whom i like very much. she finally gave me the address for her online journals and i'm so empathetic towards her as she went off her meds some time ago and displays so much of the same hopelessness i used to feel, before i began feeling the effects of thee mighty Effexor.

i want her to get back on meds. she said she'd speak to her shrink, tell him she went off. thing is, he sounds utterly useless--told her that she needs to get a boyfriend. as if that'll solve all her problems. she's painfully shy and misanthropic and he tells her to get a boyfriend. not to mention she's very depressive and at times suicidally so. fucking wanker. i'd like to kill him. she's a baby--18 or 19-- and i feel fiercely protective of her. i invited her to visit on her spring break--she is from reading! i met her on fandomination.net--she dug my slash, hahaha! she has great taste! she is obsessive like i am. richey sets her heart on fire, as he does mine. she's always very supportive of my Wire obsession, and she and i love to discuss the posibilities as far as richey and The Wire's possibly non-platonic relationship. we also like to discuss the meanings in lyrics and The Book and videos etc. etc. she's great. really sweet. i want her on meds, i want her to not feel so hurt and sad all the time. i want her to feel the way i do--i still don't really mix well with people but it doesn't bother me now. it's ok. i can deal. i embrace my alone-ness (enola alone). i love it.

parallels i draw between myself and The Wire:

1. i love to clean. i can do it for hours. i get obsessed with it.

2. i love boredom. i adore it. i love nothing more than to lie in my bed, staring at the walls, with a cd playing, for hours. my mind occupies me for hours. for days. i can go three and four days without speaking. i like to. i might speak to Cairo, for her own benefit. but i remember when i lived on bartlett st, i would get home on friday and spend from friday til sunday night (monday if it was a long weekend) in my room, reading, listening to music, with my door locked, my bedroom door closed and music on so i couldn't hear anyone knocking. i have to admit that it was nice to not have a phone or tv, but only because if i needed either i could just go downstairs to shonna's. if i really had no access to either, i'm sure it would have sucked.

anyway. i digress. The Angel (as i will call her because to me she represents sweetness and light and purity) is suffering terribly and it makes me insane. i know what she's feeling.

o christ, last night i slept over at shonna's and i had a massive panics attack, from about 11 pm when we went to sleep until about 7 am, when i finally drifted off from utter exhaustion. i laid in bed rigid, trying to talk myself down, trying breathing excersises, anything to make me relax. all i could think of was how fucked up everything is. i was thinking about "bully". then i began thinking about "kids" and i was getting all worked up--are these really realistic portrayals of today's youth? and i mean kids is old, now. it's like 5 or 6 years old, isn't it??

it scared me.

i don't know why, but i guess panic attacks aren't exactly rational to begin with. it's just...for some reason all the sex really got to me. to me, of all people. mind you, in spite of my fucked up promiscuity i have a fairly puritan view of sex. i just can't seem to adhere to it, unless i'm actually dating some one. in which case, i'm usually completely obsessively monogamous.

i was also thinking a lot about Dickhead last night. i guess i've re--reached the point where i really miss him, although finally (i mean finally as opposed to the other times we broke up, because i know we've discussed this sort of recently) i know that the chris i miss will never come back. i got really really upset last night, thinking about how he's nearly 40 now, living in a shit little motel room masquerading as an apartment beside a higway in central florida with detroyed credit, no future, and a drug habit. i mean, i got REALLY REALLY upset. started crying a little, even.

i just...what can i do? nothing. if i thought i could help him, i would. i want to. because deep down, there's a part of him i still love, even if it's buried underneath addiction and bitterness and may never see the light of day again.

i think about how sex with him was really....nice. maybe it was because i loved his body so much. i think it's because i loved him. he was the only person i've ever had sex with--and the number i've been with is upward of 30 for sure-- whom i've ever really loved.

knitty, knitty, pray he doesn't call me. i don't want him to move here because i don't have faith that he'll ever give up the drugs, but i would, if he asked, do what i could to bring him here, because i feel that florida is such a terrible bad place, especially for him. you know how in bully you just got that bad bad feeling? that's how florida always felt for me. or maybe i got that from bully because of my experiences there? tell me what you think--how much effect did that film have on you? was it just another movie or did it haunt you? it's sure as fuck haunting me. so many many things haunt me...

richey haunts me. chris haunts me. i think about this gene song--

"But with all the things that I've said
I'm still haunted by you
in every town, every place
you're waiting.
on my tongue lies disgrace
still haunted by you
yes you, you're in my way"...

that's chris. chris is this trap i just keep falling back into. and i know why. it's because my nature is to love and nurture and to heal and my supposed best quality is loyalty, which means i hang on to the ones i love best as tightly as i hang onto a grudge (think The Cunt from high school).

more and more i'm using this as a new and separate platform for my Rant. does this upset you? it's just i feel so weird about all of this. while i feel good, i feel torn and strange. there is a lot of conflict going on in my head, but it's organized now and i can handle it. it's not overwhelming.

ah, fuck, i love my new tats. jesus, i do. i was considering getting another--on my forearm to cover my burn scars. i was thinking about getting a kind of gothic version of the cheesy heart and banner (useless generation...) but with "love's sweet exile" written in the banner. i really think i ought to cover up these scars, you know?

probably you're thinking, "enough with the manics tattoos!". but hell. fuck it. this is a really intense period for me. i want to mark this time. i want to mark myself. suddenly i've remembered why i fucking love tattoos so much. i hate pictures--even custom designed stuff looks too much like flash to me. i prefer logos and symbols and words. simplistic. simple. explanatory. i don't like a lot of color. i just want to have things that mean something. i was also thinking about "anxiety is freedom" but i feel myself leaning toward love's sweet exile more.i don't think i'll regret it, as people don't regret getting misfits and black flag tattooed all over themselves! i don't regret neubauten, and i haven't listened to them in years, because it reminds me of a special time, you know?

i'm afraid that you disapprove of all of this. that getting my lip repierced and my wrists inked has disappointed you, although i don't know why, yet in a way i guess i do...i'm confused by all of this. maybe you are too. i was sure i was finished with this because i was associating tats and piercings with "punk rock" which i don't consider myself anymore, however i very suddenly remembered the reason for these things--i'm sure that there are people who do these things to fit in with a peer group, but me? i just want to make the things i love known. i mean, i know that SOMEDAY in my life some one is going to look at my wrists and get excited. someday, one person will know. and that right there is worth it, regardless of all the pleasure i'll get from looking at them and loving them. regardless is the wrong word--i'm sure you know what i mean. and having my lip done again? i forgot how it felt, i forgot how it made me feel beautiful. i forgot how willing i am to smile at everyone i pass on the street, on the bus, in the store...o i feel gorgeous now. this tiny tiny piece of metal raises my self esteem in ways i cannot possibly describe. so try to be hap py for me?
ah, this is long! tomorrow is going to be a nice relaxed day--i wonder if we'll have work on tuesday? so so so much snow...ok, i'm out for now. i didn't address anything from the previous entry...sorry!
love you best, though. more soon.
:: Mme. M 10:20 PM [+] ::
...

Hello Sister,

It's harder for you to blog than it is for me: I have my PC and phone line all to myself (as the Man doesn't get home until late), and even when you can get on-line, you're likely to get bumped. Argh!

You might want to check into NetZero.com. I think they offer a limited number of free internet hours per month, and even paid they're awfully cheap, I think like $12/month or something.

Anyway, there is much to reply to in your blog.

First, I am so impressed with your openess! I wrote in my blog Here that I think this blogging/e-mailing/phoning in which we've engaged has really brought us closer together. Also, I propose that the act of becoming more open is increasing our mental health as well. I've noticed that my relationship with Mum has improved and become much more open as well; it certainly seems as though your relationship with Mum has gotten MUCH better!

I don't think that we were ever deliberately closed off to each other; I just think that acting/speaking in an open manner has ever been the Modus Operandi (is that right?) for either one of us. I think of all our conversations, and it seems that any time one of us wanted to state that we wanted something of someone- whether it be to stop calling so much, to be truthful about one's intentions, etc.- we've always viewed it as being a confrontation.

The thought that Asking For What You Want is a confrontational act- that is a false thought, and it's one that causes much anxiety. The root of that thought is something like, "I have to fight for What I Want," or "What I Want is bad, will cause someone else to suffer," etc.

The actual fact is that stating what you want clearly opens up the interaction. It lets others know where you stand, what your intentions are, what can be expected of you, and so on. It also suggests to others that they may honestly state what they want. It allows for a mature, open, clear interaction. It also allows you to actually get what you want, I think! The root thought is, "I can get what I want." Period. No anxiety, guilt, etc. Ahhhh!

Anyway, that's quite a tangent. And you may disagree! But really, I think that your openess has allowed you to state what is, and you appear to be without unnecessary guilt or shame over it, which is as it should be. This is What Is. We are all such interesting creatures inside! The act of puttting it out there in writing, music, theatre, art, etc., allows others to look inside and see it. It may also encourage others to look inward and see it, though usually our culture encourages others to look in the mirror and see Not Enough there. But still. There are some, like the Manics, who encouraged others to work on the inside, on the thought, which dictates everything. At least, this is my belief.

You ask what I think is the Ultimate Way to Beat Nature.

I think we have different ideas on what constitutes nature. To me, you *are* Nature. There is nothing in existence that is not Nature- everything is composed of organic matter, particles and atoms. Nature is All There Is.

If you starve, it is only natural that you will suffer and die. Note that suffering might occur as pain- it may occur as delirum, disassociation, stupors, shock. It may occur as a "high," a flood of endogenous opiods and adreneline.

The same goes for burning. If you burn, it is natural that you will suffer and scar.

If you change a circumstance, it is changed. Nature never Not Exists. Will you beat yourself?

The only way to beat yourself is to die, and even that is up to debate. As far as we know, you simply die and cease, eventually, to exist. Is is not natural to die and decompose? It may be natural to continue to exist in a spiritual form, or some other form of energy. We'll all find out one day. Either way, it's the Way of Nature.

The next step down from Nature, for humans, is Human Nature. What is the Best Way to Beat Human Nature?

To me, it seems that there is no way to beat human nature. Anything you do, since you're human, is within your nature.

So it seems that your question really centers on the Survival Instinct.

Clearly, starvation goes against the Survival Instinct.

However, the Ultimate Statement against the Survival Instinct is to kill yourself outright.

To intentionally draw out suffering, for example, in starvation and other forms of self-harm, speaks to something else. It is a statement of Self, and in my philosophy is also a statement of how the self feels about the world. I would think that Self-Harm in any manner speaks of a Root Thought that must think, "There are necessary conditions on my existence in the world."

I don't know what those conditions might be. The extremes of self-harm- where the intent is not to exit entirely- might include conditional thoughts such as, "I exist, yet I don't deserve to exist," or "I am too bad to rightfully exist."

I don't know, though- this is purely a thought experiment on my side.

Well, this is a lot of blogging! Hurrah!!! Let me know your thought on this!


:: jennetic 1:30 PM [+] ::
...

Blog blog blog…

Ah! It’s been forever since I did this—have to be a bit more disciplined about blogging. It is, I suspect, good for the soul.

Your question: how do I feel about putting this stuff up here for anyone and everyone to see? Well, that’s an interesting question. As you know, I’ve had the rant up for a pretty long time and I used to be pretty good about posting, too. There have certainly been times when I thought I was being a tad too open about myself, especially once I began giving the address out to people I know I realtime. As time progressed however, I came to terms with one very simple fact: I’m better at written communication than verbal. I find it a lot easier to articulate myself this way. When close friends ask me what I’m thinking or what’s been going down in my life, I tend to have a really difficult time expressing things. Especially the things that I feel ashamed of, or which I think may be met with an element other than sheer joy, if you catch my drift.

I’ve found that people who read my rant get pretty into it and tend to want to read more when it stops. This makes me happy.

Over time I’ve become something of an online exhibitionist. I wish I had all the e-mails I wrote to N. while I was in Florida, because if I did I would post them as they directly chart my descent into bulimia and self-harm.

For a long time I didn’t consider myself to be bulimic because it has been off and on and not consistently on-going, however after engaging in an amount of research I find that this is not uncommon, and that some people consider even the thought of going back to it ‘bulimic’ in nature, although I’m not so sure if I agree with that. I do agree with Marya Hornbacher that the first time you stick your fingers down your throat and force yourself to rid your body of nourishment, it demonstrates a problem.

I really need to be better about charting my behaviors. The Therapist is right about this. Finding the patterns is definitely part of the solution. I’m finally beginning to learn something other than the fact that I have a few issues. The hard part is remembering to chart the possible triggers when the time comes because when it strikes, I think of nothing but food and either eating it, purging it, or abstaining. All thought revolves around if I will eat, when, what, when I can puke and the chances of being caught in the process.

I haven’t purged in nearly 3 weeks. This is good. But it’s not a milestone, by any stretch.

Hmmmmm. I digress. You asked how I deal with people knowing things about me, such as the above rant. Basically, honestly, I get off on it, because in my mind there is nothing so interesting as reading about another person’s darknesses, and another person’s struggles. That’s why I bought “Wasted”, it’s why I bought "Lovesick" (about a woman dealing with her treatment for sexual addiction) and it’s why I love Richey James so much—I find his struggle absolutely fascinating. The fact that I can relate to so much of it makes it even more so.

I fall in love with writers and with their characters and with artists, because these people put their pain out on display. I love music because the emotion it betrays is just a window into the artists’ emotional selves. I fall in love with people online, regardless of their genders simply by reading their thoughts and by the word structure they choose to embrace. I love emotional exhibitionists. Porn bores me senseless, but this could easily be construed as emotional pornography, I think. Putting it out there, thoughts and feelings that are completely naked, waiting to be read and even judged.

I find this exciting. It’s like a cerebral orgasm, I guess. I like to know that there are people out there who might read this and wonder about me, wonder what I’m like in the flesh.

So did I answer your question? In this case I am the voyeur and the exhibitionist all at once, dual roles that feed off of each other. TerreSonja (remember him?) fell in love with my words. I can relate to that—I fell in love with his, as well. Sometimes I feel that as a person who wants to be a writer, it’s just the way of the world. It’s how I’m wired. And I’m certainly not alone—the popularity of blogs attests to this. Even as you struggle, there is something in you that wants to do this, perhaps a desire to be known, a desire to make your existence known to people who would never have known otherwise.

Sometimes I sound like a pretentious twat.

Current news: The Anger Factor concerning The Best Friend has waned. This gives me some relief. Maybe it’s the doubled dose—150 mg. of Effexor, up from 75. I feel good. I suspect that within the next few days I’ll feel great. I’m a little nervous about paying for the next batch but I’ll manage. Other current news: My sex drive seems to have dropped still further. This is interesting. I can think about and look at The Wire for hours and feel very little below the hips. I will say this: at this point the only way for me to feel the least bit naughty is by thinking about him, which I think is a very good thing. This will keep me out of trouble, out of potentially “dangerous” situations. Don’t want a repeat of The Limey any time soon.

While I still feel that it’s “cheating”, it’s a huge relief. Now, if only I can get a handle on my other “urges”.

The two I'm struggling most with now is feeding and binge drinking. I can't fathom why I have such a strong desire to do this. Actually, that's a lie. I know that I'm trying to escape something. I just don't know what. The only difference between my drinking habits this time last year and now are as follows:

1. Last year, I was drinking because I was unable to deal with the terrible situation I was in--no job, forced to spend entire days in a tiny room alone, Chris was totally neglecting me and I felt completely helpless. I drank to make myself pass out because was in terrible pain. I hated being conscious.

2. I was cutting. I'm not cutting or burning currently.

3. When I drank, I mixed the gin or vodka. now I drink it straight, out of a water glass. I fill it up and just go for it, alone in my room with the Manics or Radiohead on, smoking, talking on the phone, or sometimes writing e-mail.

While it was very clear to me what I was seeking to escape last year, now it's much less obvious. But there has to be something. Unlike a year ago, I find myself wanting to do it even when I feel happy. As if it's perfectly natural to drink nearly an entire bottle in a space of 3 hours, alone. I know that I do it here because I feel safer here than at the bar, but why do I want to do it at all? These are the things I have to work on. These are the things that hopefully I will eventually work through. Drinking has gone far beyond the point of recreation for me now and I know it (shades of Richey's last interview...). I CAN go out and drink socially, but i prefer not to. is this another Richey-ism? I thought so at first, however after reviewing my behavior a year ago, now i disagree.

In an attempt to understand my desire to attain some sort of ascetic perfection I made a short list of my vices and their attraction, or if i may, why i relate them to Purity.

Vodka= clear, "clean", "hot" (burns going down).

Cutting =cleansing through bloodletting.

Burning = cleansing through fire.

Starvation = obvious.

Bulimia = obvious.

The Therapist admitted to me that she found me fascinating in that I am very aware of what I am doing and some of the reasons for it. She is trying to help me understand why I don't really want to stop, Iwant to stop only because I don't want to hurt the people close to me. this is the Big Issue. Cross your knitty fingers for me, baby. One day, I'll find the answer.

Question: Do you agree that the refusal to properly feed oneself is the ultimate display of beating nature? What about refusing sex? These things plague me. If you disagree, what do you think IS the ultimate display? Just curious.

I’m really gonna try to write more often in here-I love to do it. It’s just finding the time…

::listening status:: Manic Street Preachers:: "The Holy Bible":: 'Die In The Summertime' ::

:: Mme. M 8:51 PM [+] ::
...

Where We're Sending Drella, ASAP
Love,
Knitty Sister
:: jennetic 3:17 PM [+] ::
...

ooooh sister, you have to check this one out! It seems like everytime we have a big conversation things Pop Up in the World which kinda confirms the topic at hand! HA!
:: jennetic 1:53 PM [+] ::
...

HAHAHAHA!! Who would think that we talk practically every night, that we're in constant communication. We aren't much for blogging, eh sister?!?


:: jennetic 1:49 PM [+] ::
...

Hello Drella!

It seems like DAYS since I last blogged here! Well, so it has been a while!! I should be able to blog more often soon- I hope by tonight! And certainly after Monday, when the Welsh Boyfriend returns to work after his holiday.

YOU are the best, Drella Sister!

I have to say that not drinking isn't bad at all, once you get used to it. It hasn't been very long for me- only a few weeks. Sometimes I think, it's not me who has to do this, it's the Welshman, so I'm off for a glass of wine, but of course I haven't done it. The Doc also told him to put down Caffeine: no coffee, no chocolate, no pop (caffeinated pop).This one is his own burden to bear! I'll not drink the alcohol, but I must have my coffee! And my chocolate!!!!! (Spoiled Americans!)

Now I have a question for you, Drella: how do you feel about putting your thoughts up on the web openly? I know that you're much more open about this stuff than I am, and obviously you don't feel badly about writing what you think on the blog- but isn't it weird? How do you handle it? Do you give you this addy to your friends? Co-workers? Others? I haven't given out mine to anyone, and have been keeping more intimate thoughts in my handwritten journal. Of course, I only open the handwritten journal once every 3-6 months. I don't know.

I'm out for now!


:: jennetic 3:56 PM [+] ::
...

hey, i forgot to mention how much i enjoyed your Jamies story. ha ha ha!! the engineer is my favorite! sounds exactly like me!

but i'm trying, trying to be better...trying match the standard put in front of me by Wire, even though he does occasionally indulge. i can't keep doing this to myself, can't keep waking up wondering what happened the night before, terrified that i did something terrible or obnoxious or dangerous or embarrassing...there's nothing like that feeling when you're hungover but in a good way, but i think i can let that go. i can't keep fucking up, not if i want to sort my life out and maybe not always be a poor bastard, never having enough money for anything...well of course "poor" is relative. but still. yeah, and i'm the first to admit that my priorities are skewed but who gives one? yeah, i'll eat raman and rice with salt and pepper for two weeks so i can have a Manics cd, so fuckin' what?

wow, only knitty is so cool that she'd post a pic of The Wire for me on his birthday. imagine having some one you love always indulge you when it came to your interests and/or obsessions? that's my knitty sister. she's the best. THEE BEST EVER.

you hear that, O Knitty One? you are the best EVER.

on another note, how is the Man after his hospital stuff? i hope he's well. argh, i ought to get offline in case you are trying to call me and talk to me about it. hopefully, more tomorrow. i know this is a crappy one. fuck it. i'm out.

::listening status:: Manic Street Preachers:: "This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours":: 'Nobody Loved You' ::
:: Mme. M 8:17 PM [+] ::
...

One day very soon, sister, I will have unlimited internet access at the house again, and all will be well. At that time, Knitty will become a blogging fool! I will learn to post pics! I will learn to create nifty interesting blog templates! Yes! Yes, it will happen, I swear it!

Until then, I will be left to write quick blogs. Ugh.

Here's one for you, sister: Happy birthday to The Wire!

Anything is open to discussion here! You might start a rush on the market for Effexor with descriptions like that! Woo hoo! Maybe it's a matter of quality over quantity?


:: jennetic 3:01 PM [+] ::
...

so anyway. i have been on the net ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL day and i can't find another link to the pic of The Wire that i love so much so now i'm ruminating on another that is as good (which doesn't exsist but eventually i'll settle on one that is close) that i can link to.

my fucking back is killing me. i took a 10 minute break for some mechanical lurv (look, i was gazing at The Wire for over an hour straight; something was bound to react...) which made me think about the way this drug affects The Big O.

yes, orgasm, if reached, is really pretty strange on effexor. like, you feel it but it feels far away, but then after, you feel it for a long time, like 20 minutes. you have that sort of "i just came" feeling and you have to be careful because you're still sensitive "down there".

is this appropriate for our blog? i hope so...

anywho, on effexor i've gone from mechanically lurving myself at least once a day to maybe....twice a week. Weird. with a big huge W.

i want to write more on this however i've been on here for far too long and i have to rest my back. i hope you call tonight!

more soon.

::watching status:: The Manic Street Preachers, "UK Television Compilation", 'Little Baby Nothing'::
:: Mme. M 4:47 PM [+] ::
...

o boy. heheheh. yeah, The Roomie filled me in and, as happens, the more information she provided, the more i remember. first order of business--it's a damn good thing that The Limey didn't wake up in my bed, that's certain. why, you ask? well, 1., he's very nearly banned from dee's--one of the bartenders absolutely refuses to serve him and won't give anyone a beer that's intended for him. he "doesn't remember" what he did, but has apologized not once but TWICE and she won't accept it. 2., he was hitting on some other woman last night after i'd bought him and his (really fucking hot) irish roommate 3 rounds. ha ha, you should've seen The Roomie in action (mine, not his. from here on, his will be referred to as The Mick)!
she walked over, sat herself down, and said to him in front of his new target, "do have no respect at all for the woman you totally spent two weekends with?!"

Target #2's jaw hit the floor. FOILED! The bastard. Then he was attempting to explain himself but The Roomie insists he was making no sense. Then I took over, which was either really fucking sad or really fucking funny, seeing as we were both blasted and probably incoherent-- i don't remember this part and i doubt he does either.

we left shortly after and The Roomie informs me that as we were walking out the door, The Limey was DANCING up and down the length of dee's to whatever was on the jukebox and everyone in the place (and it was packed by then) was making fun of him. poor thing.

here's the funny thing--I'm not pissed, not hurt, not upset at all. I feel strangely exonerated. It's over. Now I can get back to business, i.e. obsessing properly over "my boys".

hmmmm. also worth noting--on the way home The Roomie and The Roomie's best mate, L., had the BRILLIANT idea to make doughnuts in the parking lot at the bottom of the hill on which we live. the kind you make in the car, not the kind you buy at the bakery. Making doughnuts. After dee's. In the snow. We rock.

I was passed out in the front seat but at one point thought we'd wrecked and without a word, I woke from my Jamies-Induced Coma (JIC) and leapt out and began "to push", which was apparently hilarious BUT I get mad applause/Respect for being the roommate least likely to complain about having to push. in the snow. After dee's. ha.

also--in a final act of revenge (as if sabotaging his attempt to get laid wasn't enough! ) I also stole The Limey's cigarettes. Nice one! except that, oddly, i feel badly about that part, and that part only. well, there were only 2. but he smokes what i smoke, the cheapest most generic there are here..."Waves". As does The Mick. Jesus (jaysus!). Jesus with a crutch, The Mick is not only blazingly hot but really nice as well. But you know. *points to hips* nothing going on down there at all. i might was well be dead from the hips down, dig? i'm into it. i like it this way. sex is--i'm so driven by it, controlled by it, that it's a relief to not feel any desire for it. which makes me wonder...try this one on for size.

i'm watching The Tape. watching The Wire. again. explain please: i have no desire for sex. watching The Wire excites me, but not "down there". my heart still races. i can't stop looking. i can't stop thinking about the sharpness of his jaw or the way his eyes burn in spite of the blueness. The Smile makes me smile hugely. the hips make me clench my knees. is this a learned reaction? this, to me, clearly points out that for me sex is more cerebral, more a thinking thing than a physical thing, as is stated on The Rant. if he doesn't make my pussy wet, why do i want him? i know that's pretty fucking gauche, but there it is.

i'm going to do some other stuff, linking, searching, etc, so there is more on the way. just wanted to put this up cuz i'm sure you're checking, Knitty One. love you. more soon. response requested...

:: Mme. M 2:22 PM [+] ::
...

The Hangover

UGH. I feel for you, Drella. Jamesons: the Memory Eraser. I think "Shame" must be part of the chemical composition- I've never had Jamie's without some laspe of memory, and a heavy feeling of guilt/shame the following day.

The last time I had Jamie's was with the Engineer and the Man. It had been a night of moderate drinking, a little heavy for a worknight, but not too bad...until the final shot of Jamie's. The Man and I agreed to give the Engineer a ride home, as he lives maybe 3 blocks away from us. I remember us all climbing into the car...and I remember being at home and brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed. I don't recall dropping off the Engineer.

The next day at work, I tried to causally make sure that we did, in fact, drop off the Engineer at his home. We were both a little haggard, and we were both talking around the subject: this is because none of us remember how, exactly, the Engineer got home. We assume that he was dropped off properly, and not at our house, that he didn't come in for another drink, that we didn't drop him off at the 7-11 or just in the middle of Charles Village. The Engineer woke up on the floor in his apartment in his clothes, and just hoped for the best.

That is the power of Jamies.

I am most curious to hear about the Limey! Do tell, when you get the chance. Rehydrate. Recover. then write, when you can.
:: jennetic 11:18 AM [+] ::
...

fuck. i am very ashamedly hungover. the kind of hungover where you wake up an hour late for work. fuck. FUCK. jamesons. at dee's. with The Limey. barely remember leaving. i drink very irresponsibly. i remember one moment of clarity-- no more, you've had enough--then this waitress came over with free shots of fruity vodka. the end of me, really. i have to go back up to bed. tired. told work i have the flu. no Limey in my bed--a good thing, right? just flesh and skin and shit and snot and piss and bone, right? i thought as much. trying to get back into The Mode so that i don't want him. more later. i swear it.

:: Mme. M 9:55 AM [+] ::
...

oooooh. something bad is happening. It's in my head, belly, achey everywhere. This calls for a hasty retreat home, under covers with a just-rented chick flick and lots of comfort knitting. I wish drella sister were nearby, cuz she's a kick ass nurse. Not to mention she makes the very best chicken and rice soup in the Known Universe.
Enjoy the snow. I'm going home, and going to bed!!!
:: jennetic 5:02 PM [+] ::
...

Yes, this is why I made my appeal not to God, not to my very confused self, not to any other Authority in Heaven or Earth: it went to Drella Sister. Heh. How fortunate can a human get? There is Drella, and there is the Man, and life is fucking wonderful.
:: jennetic 10:30 AM [+] ::
...

For all the voyuers out there who are reading this blog, Knitty here is what we call a Capricorn. reading between the lines, you'll find that this can mean several things, among which lie the terms Sociopath and Control Freak. don't get me wrong--i love my knitty sister above and beyond every/anything else in the universe, however i try my hardest not to throw a wrench into the system where she's concerned, and i try to let her take the reins when it's a matter of one of us doing so.

Knitty Sister fears commitment because she has always been tremendously independant.she especially fears it with The Man as here, finally, is a man who not only drives her wild carnally, but also cannot be bullied, pushed around or tricked into doing what she wants him to. in short, Knitty Sister has met her match, and she's not sure if she should succumb to her blossoming urges to nest with him on a more permanent basis.

as a Cancerian, i am driven by emotion and physical urges and therefore wind up in trouble a lot, whether this be with Man, Substances that aren't legal, or The Drink. i would allow that Man is my most obvious weakness unlike Knitty Sister who seems, oftentimes, to possess no weaknesses. drella is known for diving without looking. this can have some pretty obvious consequences. Knitty, on the other hand, never jumps until she's sure and right now she isn't 100% sure and it's terrifying her that she's run out of time and has to jump NOW.

look here Knitty, *points to self*, i'm still in one piece, yeah? been through some SHIT, but i'm still here, not irreparably scarred (at least emotionally speaking, har fucking har). you wanna talk mistakes??? just review that past two years of my life. The junky apt, the loony bin, florida...all on account of The Prick.

and yet.

i'm still here, *pounds chest proudly* and i'm not only surviving, but i'm getting my shit together, yeah? no need to panic. this is a one year lease, not a contract you need to sign in blood. you're renting a house, not selling your soul. take some deep breaths. you're going away for a day or two, a wee vacation. enjoy it. no more panicking, alright? you're going to do just fine. there are worse people you could be moving in with, you know. you know him. you love him. in fact, i think you might well adore him. so suck it up. you're going to be fine. i promise.

i have to go to work. back to the grind. ha. it's not so bad. one more day til payday, thank fuck. more tonight, i hope.

listening status: Manic Street Preachers:: "Everything Must Go" ::'The Girl Who Wanted To Be God' ::
:: Mme. M 6:37 AM [+] ::
...

Hey drella, I went on at length about this on my blog; read here and tell me what you think, yes?
:: jennetic 7:02 PM [+] ::
...

Drella sister, explain to me why it is that, upon gettting the fabtab news that we got the lovely place in Butchers Hill, my head seemed to suddenly split apart in a throbbing, heavy ache, and I want to burst into tears. This should be a relief of stress, right? Then why the fucking strain in the back of the neck?

How can I feel so badly about this? I'm being rhetorical, of course: obviously a part of me is screaming NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

I think I am about to completely freak out. What am I doing? AHHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAAHHHH! He is a good guy; he's adorable, I am very pleased to be with him, especially when we get lots of hang time.

Well, for one, I realized that I'm about to commit myself to another year of Baltimore- even though I'd already agreed to in within myself, so that I could finish school and a few projects at work that are really spectacular. So that shouldn't be the issue. What is the issue? I totally love the Man, so that's not the issue. I don't want to be married, so that's not the issue.

You know me better than any other on the planet: tell me, sister, WHAT IS MY ISSUE? Help!!!!
:: jennetic 6:16 PM [+] ::
...

Hello sister,

1. The Limey may suck, but you rock on
2. I am time limited re: blogging tonight. I will blog like a b!tch tomorrow night, though- I promise.
3. I forgot to send out a card for Mums today. I think I will send it Fed Ex tomorrow. Dang!!!!

Why hate everything you do? Love it that you're Contradictory! You're a Contrary MF and so fucking what! HA!
You, my dearie, gets to experience it ALL. Most mortals spend a fuck lot of time and effort living the scrawniest, safest, most fetal-curled position, sanitary white stark Picture Perfect "I Followed All the Rules and All I got Was A Boring Empty Disappointing Life" life model.

To hell with that. Just because *at this time* you chose to drink it up, and feel things from the outside to deal with the inside, this doesn't mean that your design for life won't
change. In fact, being the Intelligent if Ticked Goddess of Wrath that you are, the design for the Best lived life would have to include as much of everything as possible.

I don't want to glorify what you do; obviously, the compulsion or compellingness of burning/cutting isn't something that the majority of people feel; it's got to be telling you something, and the message ain't one of love and peace and well-being.

But, until we can be okay with the crap that we pull on ourselves, we keep doing it. That's true for anything: drinking, smoking, relationships, jobs, etc. At some point, maybe, you'll feel like this is no longer necessary, no longer desirable. The desires for other things will pull you away from the current desire. Thats how things go.
Berating oneself only fuels the fire, keeps the cycle revolving, keeps the pressure taunt, tight.

More later. Not too much later, I hope. What do you think: To the Self, is self-harm a way of making oneself tolerable, or of keeping oneself from ever being tolerable?


:: jennetic 5:48 PM [+] ::
...

Can’t seem to shut my finger-yap today. Finger-yap. Ha ha ha. I’m a bloggin’ fool. The bastard steelers lost and now everyone at work is going to be bitches on Monday. Cheers. Bastards. Ruin my workweek for me…selfish, I know. Sorry about your loss there, knitty. I tried. Maybe I should have rooted against them—this has worked before. Leave it to me to be so arrogant as to assume that my desire for them to win/lose has any effect on the outcome whatsoever.

I’m in a weird mood. It’s nearly 10 pm and The Limey hasn’t phoned and I feel…strange about it, concocting excuses (I know he was watching the game, probably at Piper’s, most likely sauced off his ass (arse), justifying why this is for the best…besides. I got my “friend” today. Some friend. Frankly, my pussy fucking hurts. I hate telling some one you’ve just begun sleeping with that it’s a bit mucky “down there” and that there will be no intercourse, not over my dead body, mister.

dammit. Taco meat smells good. Not enough for us both to have more. Hate.

maybe he’ll phone tomorrow. Maybe I fucking SUCK.

what the hell is wrong with me? What’s my deal? Why am I perpetually torn and contradicting everything I do and say? And why the fuck am I drinking again? Boredom? Nothing so simple as that, I’m sure.

it’s a Richey day today. Had to watch The Tape. Most of it. Had to look at him. Hear him. Part of The Limey’s appeal is his very Limey-ness, that he knows about Richey, knows the history even though he doesn’t particularly care…been looking at the picture of The Wire that makes my heart pound. (yeah, for some reason i can't get this link to work, but i'm hoping i can work it out soon.) sometimes, I wonder. About everything.

It’s hard going, hitting the bottle two nights in a row. However, I’m determined. to be honest, this vodka is cheap and tastes like shit the second night in a row. Probably it tasted like shit last night too, but I can’t remember. I very clearly remember talking to you twice but I don’t remember hanging up the second time. I remember you asking if I had burned. I remember ranting about suicidal thoughts. I remember looking at The Book a lot. I remember thinking, yes, this was the thing, this was the right idea… I don’t know what compells me to be self destructive, but I do know that its difficult to resist it, impossible at times. There’s no need to be drinking again, except that I didn’t learn my lesson last night and I’ve nothing better to do. I’m alone and its Saturday and there’s vodka so…I think I’ll go upstairs and smoke and listen to some music and try to behave. Wish you’d call. Should get offline in case you’re trying….i’m out.
:: Mme. M 11:39 PM [+] ::
...

"REPEAT after me/fuck queen and country..."

yeah and you KNOW i wanted to put the ENTIRE lyric there for EVERYONE to read but...i'll save it for my Rant page. see, you ought to pop in the generation terrorists stuff i sent you and rock out to "repeat". it might make you feel better. now, what is that thing that "they" say about repetition being the best learning tool? well it hasn't worked for me, obviously. maybe you're learning something if you're able to identify the problem. but then, i KNOW what my "problem" is and that doesn't stop me from doing stupid things. well. take today, for instance. it's friday. i made it through another week without burning, without calling off, without being late or even making any dumb mistakes at work. i went to the shrink and the therapist, bought my meds and have been taking them--shit! i have to take my meds! hold on...-- and really, i feel as if i'm being pretty fucking proactive. i haven't burned in over 4 weeks. that alone is a good thing, isn't it? isn't it?

so. what do i decide today at work? well, firstly, everyone was ranting about going to "happy hour" which i am far too broke to do, and besides, i've noticed a disturbing trend in my drinking behaviors very recently--i LIKE to drink alone. more on that in a minute.

anyway. everyone's pressuring me to go out, i have 10$ in my pocket and frankly, i fucking hate sports bars. $10'll buy you a fucking beer and A wing. ONE wing. with NO SAUCE.

needless to say i declined. instead i got the idea into my head that what i really wanted to do is to buy a bottle of vodka and sit home and drink it alone, while writing, blogging, and listening to the manics.

never mind the fact that i KNOW what's going to happen when i'm wasted and suddenly it's not fun anymore, it's not a fucking joke anymore, it's fucking reality that i prefer to get wazzed out of my brains by myself because i can't stand being around more than one person at a time anymore.

and of course, drinking alone, thinking alone, leads to the burning. or the cutting. or both.

i KNOW this. I KNOW IT. so what's my excuse? things are going too well, i need to fuck up now? purged at work today, too. twice. out of spite.

yeah, it's a Holy Bible week alright (o richey...you leave me breathing like the drowning man...).

here i sit with a cheap bottle of vodka and a pack of smokes and somehow i feel vindicated that i'm doing WHAT I WANT TO DO, not what anyone else wants me to do. both of us, stuck in repetition...this--drinking alone--being a behavior i learned a year ago, shut up in that room while that prick went out and left me home to wallow and i stewed in vodka and gin and wine and beer--a winter of discontent? yes, and a very fucking drunk, ugly, bloody one at that. and what did i learn? that i can drink myself into a certain almost-numbness. that physical pain dissolves emotional torment. that some one by the name of richey james exists/ed, whom most likely i would have gotten along with had i met him.

i'm getting drunk. and i like it. i like it right now, but give me another hour. another two. give me that and a nail and a candle and a match. give me 30 seconds and i'll give you some scars that will never go away, scars which i'll pick at and love in a nearly erotic fashion.

i know why we do things to hurt ourselves. the issue is how can we kill the compulsion?

The Man drives you to act against your nature, which in itself is purely natural, so stop hating yourself over it.

if only i could take my own advice...

i pray to god to help me in my quest to beat nature, but god IS nature, so i will always always fail. please put up the dying lamb bit, and how we're all such a disappointment. i believe in that one line more than anything else in the world, right now.

lately, more than ever, i am beginning to view richey as an equal. not as a god.

::i'm out::

::listening status:: Manic Street Preachers, "The Holy Bible", 'Of Walking Abortion'.
:: Mme. M 4:15 PM [+] ::
...

Literature is Not Dead:
A chef of life, adventure, and culinary arts: Anthony Bourdain:

"A particulary plump beast was grabbed by the scruff of the neck...I watched queasily as the intended victim wa brusquely pointed toward Mecca. The man with the knife leaned over and without ceremony quickly cut the sheep's throat.

"It was a deep, fast, and efficient movement. Were I, for one of many good reasons, condemned to die in the same fashion, I doubt I could have found a more capable executioner. The animal fell on its side, blood gurgling into the alley. There had been no cries of pain. I could readily see the animal's open windpipe; the head appeared to have been damned near cut off. But it continued to breathe, to twitch. While the executioner chatted with his cohorts, he held his victim down with a foot on its head.

"I watched the poor sheep's eyes- a look I'd see again and again in the dying- as the animal registered its imminent death, that terrible unforgettable second when, either from exhaustion or disgust, it seemed to decide finally to give up and die. It was a haunting look, a look that says, You were- all of you- a terrible disappointment. The eyes closed slowly, as if the animal were going to sleep, almost willfully."
-from "A Cook's Tour: Global Adventures in Extreme Cuisines," page 94.

:: jennetic 9:15 PM [+] ::
...

Okay, Sister! I think we are up and running. I hope the invite on your side goes through- it will solve the sign in and signature issues.

We'll learn more and build up the site.

I think we should open this as a Free discussion; however, I'd like to keep it pretty much Nameless, as far as using Real Time/real world names. I've called my man, rather unimaginatively, The Man, but we'll have to come up with a better term than that. So we'll come up with a few alia (pl?) and open it up to any/everything. heh. Should we link to our personal blogs/sites?

It's a Holy Bible week? Maybe it's the meds, maybe it's the Brit, maybe both...the sleep thing sounds like it's a medication issue. Sleep- our old housemate called it a cancer, remember? I envy the people who don't seem to need much of it, who can operate at high levels with only 3-4 hours...my brain and body devour 7-8 hours at a crack, or else performance deteriorates. Isn't it funny- I sleep too much and wish to be rid of the need, which is the space you usually occupy... In one realm, at least, we've switched places...

The Reoccuring Theme in my life this week is The Skipping Record. This describes Everything: Unintended Repeat- THUNK- Repeat-THUNK...
Conversation: Repeated *THUNK* Repeated Again
Decisions: Repeated....
Conversations...see above
Decisions....see above

..so it's time to try something new.

Meanwhile, you seem to be in transition. Try to hold off on the burning...is it different this time around? Is the foggy, kinda fuzzyness staying with you, even during your waking hours? Describe!


:: jennetic 9:31 AM [+] ::
...