pain
The Old Man has lost it. We went to visit him at the hospital tonight and he spoke of gritty sand in his water, looked for a can of soda in the railings of his bed, and answered the pillow like a telephone when an alarm went off to notify the nurse that he needed... something. Don't know what he needed. There were an awful lot of little noises in that room. He isn't right. That's just the tip of the iceberg. I'm not sure if I can remember the rest of it right now. Less certain that I really want to. He had a mind like a steel trap, once upon a time. Now it's gone.
shock and eww
My temporary living conditions, now that I'm home with The Parents, involve a futon in the basement which has been augmented by a down filled mattress topper. I'm noticing some pretty interesting shit going on in the dark. This feather mattress topper is made of Awesome. I really could never sit through a science class of any kind. My brain wasn't (isn't) wired for that sort of thing. I'm sure that if I had ever managed to pay attention in a physics class, I'd know exactly what is going on and why. As it stands, all I know for sure is static electricity is bitchin'...
If I slide my hand over the mattress topper quickly enough in the right light (read: Dark) little blue sparks outline my hand. I can't remember the last time I felt this level of childlike wonder about something so silly. I spent at least an hour last night giving myself some sort of friction burn making the damn thing light up under my hand. It didn't take long for my mind to take it to a very dirty place. I need to fuck someone on this thing -- and videotape it. Not as porn, mind you. This is an artistic endeavor. I would, literally, be able to make sparks with someone in the throes of passion. I imagine that we would look like we were in the movie Tron. Need to find a willing partner first. In the meantime, I'll just keep brushing my hand over the damn thing, marveling at how the bloody thing never manages to catch fire with all of the little lightning bolts flashing away under my fingertips.
I know, I know... it's a horrible visual and one I should have warned you about before you started reading this. Apologies. I'm letting my mind go wherever it will to help me forget about the Old Man and his rapid decline. Let's just forget I said anything...
pinocchio
I just want to be a real boy...
the perfect drug
I've got my head but my head is unraveling
Can't keep control, can't keep track of where it's traveling
I've got my heart but my heart's no good
And you're the only one that's understood
I come along but I don't know where you're taking me
I shouldn't go but you're wrenching, dragging, shaking me
Turn off the sun, pull the stars from the sky
The more i give to you, the more I die
I give people too much power sometimes. No, all the time. All it takes is for them to show the least little bit of understanding when I open up my fucked up little world to them, and I hand over the keys to everything that I've kept locked up over the years. It never fails to come back to haunt me in the end. It's haunting me now, but in a much different way than it normally does. I can't define it. I'm a broken little wooden boy.
martian child
I need to do more research... but I think my cousin's little boy might have some form of autism. If I'm right, she'll shoot the messenger. I just want to help the little guy.
The Old Man has lost it. We went to visit him at the hospital tonight and he spoke of gritty sand in his water, looked for a can of soda in the railings of his bed, and answered the pillow like a telephone when an alarm went off to notify the nurse that he needed... something. Don't know what he needed. There were an awful lot of little noises in that room. He isn't right. That's just the tip of the iceberg. I'm not sure if I can remember the rest of it right now. Less certain that I really want to. He had a mind like a steel trap, once upon a time. Now it's gone.
shock and eww
My temporary living conditions, now that I'm home with The Parents, involve a futon in the basement which has been augmented by a down filled mattress topper. I'm noticing some pretty interesting shit going on in the dark. This feather mattress topper is made of Awesome. I really could never sit through a science class of any kind. My brain wasn't (isn't) wired for that sort of thing. I'm sure that if I had ever managed to pay attention in a physics class, I'd know exactly what is going on and why. As it stands, all I know for sure is static electricity is bitchin'...
If I slide my hand over the mattress topper quickly enough in the right light (read: Dark) little blue sparks outline my hand. I can't remember the last time I felt this level of childlike wonder about something so silly. I spent at least an hour last night giving myself some sort of friction burn making the damn thing light up under my hand. It didn't take long for my mind to take it to a very dirty place. I need to fuck someone on this thing -- and videotape it. Not as porn, mind you. This is an artistic endeavor. I would, literally, be able to make sparks with someone in the throes of passion. I imagine that we would look like we were in the movie Tron. Need to find a willing partner first. In the meantime, I'll just keep brushing my hand over the damn thing, marveling at how the bloody thing never manages to catch fire with all of the little lightning bolts flashing away under my fingertips.
I know, I know... it's a horrible visual and one I should have warned you about before you started reading this. Apologies. I'm letting my mind go wherever it will to help me forget about the Old Man and his rapid decline. Let's just forget I said anything...
pinocchio
I just want to be a real boy...
the perfect drug
I've got my head but my head is unraveling
Can't keep control, can't keep track of where it's traveling
I've got my heart but my heart's no good
And you're the only one that's understood
I come along but I don't know where you're taking me
I shouldn't go but you're wrenching, dragging, shaking me
Turn off the sun, pull the stars from the sky
The more i give to you, the more I die
I give people too much power sometimes. No, all the time. All it takes is for them to show the least little bit of understanding when I open up my fucked up little world to them, and I hand over the keys to everything that I've kept locked up over the years. It never fails to come back to haunt me in the end. It's haunting me now, but in a much different way than it normally does. I can't define it. I'm a broken little wooden boy.
martian child
I need to do more research... but I think my cousin's little boy might have some form of autism. If I'm right, she'll shoot the messenger. I just want to help the little guy.
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
Galaxy,
Is your grandpa getting enough oxygen? I remember when my husband's grandmother was in the hospital, she was completely not herself (confused, shouting) one day and that was the problem. Also visit him all the time, which I'm sure you already do, he will get more attention.
and LOL @ making sparks with your hands. I do stuff like that too (never thought about videotaping the sparks in the throes of passion though, but that would have a lot of artistic merit!).
How old is your cousin's little boy? What makes you think he has autism?
Manda
P.S. not the best picture, but I hope you like it anyway....I'm blowing you some kisses, hope you're able to catch them