LOVE IS THE DRUG!!!!!

It's been a opera. It was more than an opera. It was gore theater and I was the leading lady. I became obsessed with angels and ballerinas things of grace and beauty after Sonny and I broke up.I would cry about every fifteen minutes.I was a make-up nightmare. I wanted to be the swan in swan lake, and flutter, crumple and disappear.

Imagine this: Your peaking. Your in your youth. At the prime of your life. You've finally met someone and your In love with him. You have a best friend. You have a soul-fucking mate. And he's the best fuck that ever walked. And he wants to have babies. And what you want is babies. You've wanted to have a baby forever...

And he understands everything you say. And he completes your sentences. And he's lazy but spritual. And he's not embarrased about praying, about god, jesus, none of it. He fucking thinks it's all kool. He wants to be enlightened. everything.

And there's even room for you to fix him, which you like, cause your a fixer-upper. He's perfect in almost every fucking way. The only fucking happiness you've ever had. And then he starts slamdancing with Mr. Brownstone(herion)....and it all gets taken away from you.

He was in a coma for twenty hours and I was hysterical throughout. I mean, they had two tubes in his nose, two in his mouth, things coming out of every available artery. They had to put the glucose through his neck that night, all of his life functions including pissing were done by a machine.

I mean, I've seen him get really fucked up before, but I've never seen him almost eat it like that. And I knew that night as I layed with him praying that he wouldn't leave me that I could never see him like that again...and that this would be the end of our story...I've been a zombie for eleven months now. For so long in my relationship and afterward, I've been in isolation, oblivious to everything but my darkest hedonism and darkest hours.

I have to start feeling my heart again. I'm finally returning to the land of agoraphobia trying to purge myself of my vitriol for every man that has hurt me in the past...I did Lady Macbeth...all right. Now it's time to get back with the living....

A SLOW DISEASE

My dad went to vietnam when he was 19 years old. I think it bruised his soul. There are some things the human mind should never have to comprehend, some things the body can never forget.

He doesn't talk about it. Actually, I guess, I've never asked. I hate to imagine his puppy young eyes absorbing all that rain and mud and blood. The jungles must have seemed like a slow disease that would continue to arrest his and so many other hearts the rest of their lives.....

THE BEAUTY MYTH

When I was a small child, I had an enormous potbelly. It was impossible to tame. I loved it. It was glorious and smooth and stuck out of everything I wore. No T-shirts could cover it; no Tuff-Skins could tame it. It was plump and lunar, like someone had cut the moon in half and sculpted it to my small self.

I was still quite young when I began to catch on that a belly wasn't something to be desired; it was something to be ashamed of. Girls wanted breasts; to wear earrings; to cram their feet into uncomfortable shoes. Potbellies were not in demand. They were not even considered attractive, and everything I saw, heard, and read reminded me that being attractive was the point of it all.

I've decided to not let body image control my life. I want to focus on feeling healthy and attractive, not on some fictitious, unattainable standard of beauty. .....so DAMN THE CRITICS!!!!!!

THE METAMORPHIS OF THE BLONDE ONE

I can understand how Elvis and Johnny Cash and countless other performers got addicted to sleeping pills. Working the night shift for over a year now..the days meld into one another and it becomes increasingly more difficult to sleep. It takes me hours to fall asleep even after working all night..all of this is complicated of course by my desire to have a little bit of a life of my own. Just to watch t.v. or make phone calls or write which I find essential to my well being.

consequently, for me, life begins at night. And I have to find time to watch movies, catch up on world events, write..The dead of night is the only time I seem to be able function now..just finding time to lay on my bed and stare at the ceiling and let my mind wander..is sometimes scarce now..then I will have two days off..and the cycle will begin all over again. Elvis doesn't have to come back from the dead to tell me this is where sleeping pills begin to look like an attractive option..I've been taking them on and off for over a year..not everyday..but more often than I would like.

The cumulative effects of sleep deprivation are hard to cope with. My internal clock is so messed up that without sleeping pills it is sometimes impossible for me to sleep at all. The problem is the pills sometimes make me feel sluggish and my mind gets fatigued, making me susceptible to worries and neuroses that usually don't haunt me when I'm well rested.

But I gotta do what I gotta do, as do most people..So I guess I should stop whining and be thankful I have a job at all...WTF whining is the walmart way....so I guess I do fit right in...:p......

FIGHT GIRL POWER

Wanna know the dumbest thing I've ever heard of? Girl Power. Feminism, as in we crush all barriers died, some other time when I was a baby. What happened then? Everyone got scared to be a feminist. Feminist were angry and unattractive. So some mediocre magazine editor decided feminisim needed remodeled into a marketable concept. Just what is up with girls, anyway.

It's something about being beautiful. That's what it is. We want to be happy, to be surrounded by boys who lend us their sweaters and girls who share their slurpee's, always with a party to go to, always with someone to call, and the way to do that is to be beautiful, right? That's what everyone tells us. We want to excel and achieve.

and I'm not saying boys are any better, they just have better luck. Guys can be crazy offbeat dreamers and everyone will like them more for it. Their supposed to be stubborn and rebellious. It's sexy when boys tell the world to go fuck itself. Example:( Sid Viscious, a dirty skinny bass-totter who made a career out of being offensive and bleeding on people. He's the twelfth most requested dead guy on the internet.)

But that kind of behavior is just not profitable for a girl. Look, they want our money, that's what this whole thing is about. Capitalism is the biggest house of mirrors in the world, because everyone is trying to tell us we "need" something. What we need to do is to perfect the skill of cash warfare. Don't buy shit. You know what shit is...Anything in print that is kind enough to tell you how to be perfect, and smart enough to show you a picture of what perfect is. Seventeen magazine is shit. Jane magazine is shit. The Girl Power movement is shit. So let's you and me not be targeted. We can be the big movement of women not buying shit. There's plenty of things to spend our money on..food, college, a kick ass bass guitar..

We do and can kick ass without being "pretty", and maybe in the distant future- like when we're seventy and sitting on top of the fortune we amassed in our youths by our inventive and roguish business instinct-society will have changed and we can date 20 year old models..but until then things are gonna be ugly...

Hey, we shall overcome, okay?

INDEPENDENT WOMEN VS. MALE DOMINANCE

The history of mankind is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations on the part of man toward woman, having in direct objects the establishment of an absolute tyranny over her. To prove this, let the facts be submitted to a candid world.

1. he has never permitted her to exercise her inalienable right to the elective franchise.

2. he has compelled her to submit to laws, in the formation of which she had no voice.

3. he has withheld from her rights which are given to the most ignorant and degraded men-both natives and foreigners.

4. having deprived her of this first right of a citizen, the elective franchise, therby leaving her without representation in the halls of legislation, he has opressed her on all sides.

5. He has made her, if married, in the eye of the law, civilly dead.
he has taken from her all right in property, even to the wages she earns.

6. He has made her, morally, and irresponsible being, as she can commit many crimes with impunity, provided they be done in the presence of her husband. In the covenant of marriage, she is compelled to promise obedience to her husband, he becoming, to all intents and purposes, her master-the law giving him power to deprive her of her liberty, and to administer chastisement.

7. He has monopolized nearly all the profitable employments, and from those she considers most honorable to himself. As a teacher of theology, medicine, or law, she is not known.

8. He had denied her the facilities for obtaining a thorough education-all colleges being closed against her.

9. He has created a false public sentiment, by giving to the world a different code of morals for men and women, by which moral delinquencies which exclude women from society, are not only tolerated but deemed of little account in man.

10. He has endeavored, in every way that he could, to destroy her confidence in her own powers, to lessen her self-respect, and to make her willing to lead a dependent and abject life...

Now, in view of this entire disfranchisement of one-half the people of this country, their social and religious degradation, In view of the unjust laws above mentioned, and because women do feel themelves aggrieved, oppressed, and fraudulently deprived of their most sacred rights and privileges which belong to them as citizens of the united states.

We anticipate no small amount of misconception, misrepresentation, and ridicule but we shall use every instrumentality within our power to affect our object.....

ARE MEN NECESSARY?

I don't understand men.
I don't even understand what I don't understand about men.
They are a most inscrutable bunch, really.
I had a moment of dazzling clarity when I was twenty-six, a rush of confidence that I had cracked the code. But it was alas, an illusion.
I think I overcomplicated their simplicity. Or oversimplified their simplicity.Are they as complicated as a pile of wood? Or as simple as a squid?

I was loathe to accept the premise of Jerry Seinfield, who claims that men are really nothing more than extremely advanced dogs who want the same thing from their women as they do their underwear, a little bit of support and a little bit of freedom..

I was more prone to go with the thesis of James Thurber and E.B. white in their seminal 1929 treatise, IS SEX NECESSARY?, that the american male was the least understood of all the male and that more attention needed to be paid to his complexity, the importance of what he is thinking and what he intends to do, or at least what he would like to do..

How often do you hear it said that the little whims and desires of a man should be cherished, or even listened to? You don't hear it said at all. What you do hear is that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. A thing like that hardens a man. He may eat his spinach and say nothing, but he is being hardened just the same.

Thurber and white don't date the start of the troubles between men and women to the snaky eve. They contend that things got bollixed up in the 1920's when the female came face to face with the male. The American male's repugnance to charades, which is equaled, perhaps to his repugnance to nothing at all. Goes back to those years the authors explained.

I know women are disorienting to men, too.

In the final analysis, thurber and white, decided matters went irretrievably awry during the jazz age when flappers began to imitate men, smoking, drinking, wanting to earn money(not much but some) and thinking they had a right to be sexual. all these strained attempts at equality they contend destroyed the mystery of the sexual tango, the sexual charleston, if you will.

This spurt of cocky independence faded and over the decades women lapsed back into domesticity and deference, until their only avatars were perfect gingham moms such as Donna Reed, June Clever, and Harriet Nelson. Then came the Sexual Revolution....

But back to me...I came of age during the third wave of feminism...the do-it-yourself..the riot grrrl movement of the 1990s..and despite my undying support of this said movement..I didn't necessarily fit into the movement itself..I hated the dirty, unisex jeans, no make-up zoned outta your head looks...

In the universe of eros, I longed for style and wit, I love the art decor of the 1940s..movies. I wanted to live the life of a screwball herione like Katherine Hepburn wearing a gold lama gown cut to the bias, Cavorting with Cary Grant, strolling along fifth avenue with my pet leopard.

In those days I assumed we were sailing toward perfect equality with men, a utopian world at home and at work. On my twenty fifth birthday my mom sent me a bank book with a modest nest egg she had saved for me. I always felt that the girls in the family should get a little more than the boys even though, all are equally loved, she wrote in a letter. They need a little cushion to fall back on. Women can stand on the Empire State Building and scream to the heavens that they are equal to men and liberated, but until they have the same anatomy, it's a lie. It's a mans world today more than ever. Men can eat their cake in unlimited bakeries.

I thought at the time that she was being old world, like my favorite jade, Dorothy Parker, when she wrote:

by the time your his, shivering and sighing, and he vows he passion is infinite and undying, make a note of this lady...one of you is lying...

I thought the struggle for eglitarinism was a cinch, so I could leave it to my earnest sisters in black turtlenecks and birkenstocks. I figured there was plenty of time for me to get serious later...little did I realize that the sexual revolution would have the unexpected consequence of intensifying the confusion between the sexes..