Twelve — January2015

Drunk now
BECAUSE THATS WHAT I DO WHEN I NEED TO BE HIGH
JUDGE ME MOTHERFUCKERS

Uhm yes, on my way to work I always go by this POPPING (haha so white) bar, I’ve seen this bartender there every time, very tall, very skinny, dark hair and eyes, pale as fuck skin. I liked him the moment I saw him, I got home (because this hotel is my home now, hell yes :D ) from my FREE indian food meal because the owner (looks my age but 35…Indian and totally into me, fuck its the only race that dries up my pussy, he’s all like “I can get you a furnished apartment for 455euros a month, I own several of them” may take him up on that shit, fuck knows I’ve never sat down to dinner and had it ALL comped, I like that shit) wants my shit. I was planning on working with ‘Mathildè and Crier’ but I wasn’t in the mood, too fucking anxious on this pregnancy shit. I KNOW I’m pregnant which pains me to write (theres no other reason for my tits to balloon like this). Going to try the parsley/ascorbic acid that my love Catherine linked me to, we’ll see how it works. I talked to Layla as well, she’s pregnant AGAIN. I can’t even judge because I’m a no condom whore as well, well that shit changes NOW. We haven’t talked much lately, lol we have the same tattoo that we dedicated to each other like fucked up lesbian lovers. She’s the only chick in my real life that I could tell that I’m stripping and she’s all proud goes, “so does this mean you’re finally wearing makeup now?” hahaha

ANYFUCKINGWAY I roll up in the bar and have a half hour till it closes PS I need to wash my hair, its slightly greasy but I overcompensated with a shitton of lash lengthening mascara and pink lipstick. I think the dude works with his brother who was serving me but he’s checking me out hardcore, winks, big smiles, long glances right away and shit. Gods I lap it all up. Me and the hot dude start talking a bit (his brother is cute as well, but yeah, I know what I want), he knows a little bit of English, he randomly took off his shirt TWICE and I made sure he caught me checking out his sexy ass body. He touched my back when he passed behind me as well :) I’m sooooooooo going back with washed hair and a better outfit (wore leggings, tight hoodie, sports bra that shows a bit of my stomach tonight, I was in a hurry!!!). When I packed up to leave (bars close here at 1am, what the fuck?!?!?! Manhattan has spoiled me, if I’m going out to drink in NYC I’m not getting back till after four am) he told me to stay and I did…until his bullshit coworker/brother told me to go. BLAHHHHHHHH whatever, its better to make him wait, fuck knows I would fuck his ass tonight if given the chance. Need to tone down my whorish tendencies; at least I know I’ll wear a condom, I have NO problem telling strangers they NEED to wear one if I’m fucking them, its when my feelings are involved that I want them to enjoy my sex as much as possible — Grey, yes, Thomas used to be a yes, fuck I haven’t fucked many men lately. Thats about to change.

There’s this girl at work I want to call Miss Amazon, she’s really tall and super thick and works that pole like NO OTHER (she got these strong features, very tough looking. She’s got long gorgeous hair and a gigantic non cellulite’ed ass), she ignored me the first few shifts but now she’s nice and very sweet to me. She’s got me into this song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sAaTEecn0uoCAN I BE A BOSS ASS BITCH PLEASE?!?!?!?! PLEASE?!?!?!?!?!?! haha okay :)

Fuck it feels good to be drunk, three glasses of Rosè in.

Of course the room service dude needs me to come with him to get the bud tomorrow. Whatever, we all know I’m a fucking pothead, journey tomorrow with the underage room cleaning boy at 3pm. It will be a GLORIOUS DAY once I get that shit. Get ready for my nonsensical entries. I knew the nonsmoking wouldn’t last long, the pregnancy has violated me.

SHIT IF I WAS A BORING GIRL I’D BE LEAVING IN SIX DAYS
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
I’m staying in Paris
YOU CAN’T MAKE ME GO and I’ve got the bank account to back it all up 
SIX THOUSAND THREE HUNDRED AND THREE DOLLARS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!?!?!?! Damn its good to be me right now, minus the unwanted child growing in my stomach as I type. If I HAD to have a kid (though I’d move the world to make that not happen) I’d want it to be with Grey, over Christian, over Thomas a million times. I could create a writing prodigy!!!!! Except I want to be a writing prodigy, fuck children, fuck anything that grows inside of me except self esteem. Grey wants to get married and have kids, he didn’t before. We were talking about it, I tell him I have no interest in it and he’s all ’‘you could change your mind!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!“ oh yeah homeboy?! he’s probably another one who just idolizes me in his mind, all projection, no reality. It happens ALL the time, these men I end up with, they want me to be this perfect girl, do I take on that role?! Eh maybe, I’m not fake but I do put on my best side for these dudes, it comes completely natural to me which is scary, I’m going to blame my Libra Ascendant, I AIM TO PLEASE, ITS IN THE STARS (my girl on here is a Libra Ascendant but she’s not weak like that (youngest/only vs.oldest child), jealous…we have a similar chart, same birthday, similar birthplaces, Cancer MidHeaven, only a few years older then me). I do feel like I’ve chosen this life, I’ve written several times that the only thing that matters to me is making it BIG in the writing industry, I don’t want a BIG love, I don’t want a husband who adores me, I don’t want children (out of my uterus) that look up to me. I’m happy to forgo ALL of that for success. So really I have no reason to complain, ALL THIS BULLSHIT makes for good writing (Beyonce said once that when you’re in love your songs/writing get boring), forever the underdog/guinea pig/sad girl weeping/writing in the corner GIVE ME SUCCESS I can die happy then. For arguments sake….Grey I can see myself falling in love with, fuck knows I’ve fantasized about him proclaiming his love to me, but even if its not him, even if the most perfect man fell madly in love with me, didn’t want kids and only to treat me like a QUEEN till I died…I would be HORRIBLY DISAPPOINTED with my life, I NEED to be published, I NEED fans who cry at my writing, who make memes about it on the internet and shit. I need SUCCESS OF THE HIGHEST DEGREE nothing else would make me happier, NOTHING ELSE (hello tenth house Sun) so thats what I’m after. BRING ON THE HEARTBREAK AND THE MEN FOREVER DISAPPOINTING ME, it will all be worth it in the end. Fuck penises/Kate Tempest’s vagina.

I never did finish talking about what happened when me and Grey got drunk NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT. 
Yeah he gave me that intense look and told me he didn’t want to drink, but damn he kept up with me no problem (something like eight glasses of wine, plus shots that night) and we were fucccccked. We talked about our craft seriously. He told me I ‘need to try harder’ in regards to my writing, I see his point, fuck knows I’m not writing in an Ivy League school like his parents are paying for (I sound like a hater, I’m not…..he doesn’t have a job, has an apartment that is also paid for by his parents, goes to Oxford. I take off my clothes for cash, no steady apartment/life to speak of, parents have no money and even if they did they wouldn’t support my traveling ass. We had a long conversation about how I work I know for sure he doesn’t judge, is just interested….Alyssa Sharpe says that Aries men usually end up with strippers because they want the best of the best, that they get off on other men wanting what they have haha. Looooooong conversation about Christian as well, he wanted to know every detail about him and how we got married/separated. Hahaha I like how the dudes I date now are intimidated by him, like Layla (who used to date a legit millionaire, Jeff); rich ex-boyfriends/husbands are a good card to carry, keeps dudes on their toes.

I told him he gets lost in his vocabulary (lots of writers do, they just love words and use ridiculous ones to carry a relatively simple thought, I’ve never fallen for that shit as I feel its pretentious, I like big words but simple ones carry much more weight when conveying feeling, it just works better, big word after big word is just silly, I don’t want to carry a thesaurus to understand your poem….and I understand big words, not all of them of course but a fair bit) and he agreed with me. We got DRUNK at that bar, he bought cigarettes (Red Marlboros) that we smoked, joking we were acting like Bukowski. The entire night is very hazy to me, I had no idea we went to a second bar until he told me the next morning. Apparently it was a gay bar and a transexual came up to me and asked if Grey was my boyfriend (he never did tell me what I said and I was too scared to ask, I don’t think even in my drunkest state would I EVER call him my boyfriend, no matter who was asking). He said the bartender was into him and wanted to ‘twiddle his fingers’ hahahahahhahahaha. I remember NONE of this which is annoying but at that point I hadn’t eaten in like four days, can’t blame my poor lightweight body. He got us whiskey shots which I remember almost throwing up on the spot. Getting a taxi was hell, nobody wanted to cart our drunk asses home, he was falling down on the street, I remember that hahahaha drunk ass. Maybe that was the night he got me pregnant, I need to stop fucking men I’m into, it only gets me in trouble, my heart can’t take it, and clearly my body is ready to reproduce which IS SO NOT HAPPENING. It’s going to be interesting telling him I need an abortion, NO IDEA how he’ll react, it really could go either way. I’m not even betting that I’ll go to be with him in March, like he’s asked me TWICE since he left. FUCK THAT NOISE, FUCK STRANGERS, fuck knows it’ll be easier that way. My ego can’t take sending him this

Melissa Ryan

Distinction

You’re suffering now, almost enjoyably but I know better. Your face I remembered so well has changed — so much more intense, your gaze frightening. I confess I didn’t know what to do, rubs for your aching back and the nicest words I could utter — it wasn’t enough. Its okay, I understand.

This mountain you’re climbing, I’ve been scaling all my life. You on the furthest side and I directly opposite, just the other way. Anxious to leave all this behind, lives of mediocrity grey in its dull edging, strangling in its heat choking dust as we inhale, coughing to exit; a cycle unending if chosen to stay.

Ascend, leave now because we’re only exhausting time, go your own way and myself in mine; its better like this. Recluses are we, befitting solitude to produce what begs to be written. It isn’t easy, blood running in streams down blistered hands and legs collapsed in woe, pain nearly too great to bare. No matter, rise and continue past the paling clouds, dying stars. Ignore the rain falling like oceans, threatening lungs only suited for air. Reject creeping thoughts of flinging yourself, myself to the throes of gravity as they will occur over and over; it won’t do any good my darling because you would miss it all, I would miss it all.

The day will come, and spades more to follow. You’ll get there first or I, but the world will be in full view. Lightning will rage illuminating what was once opaque, the planets, the comets in perfect alignment, exalting our efforts. Voices will roar, shaking the mass we nearly died attaining because of your creation, my creation. When I meet you there, I’ll remind you how it used to be, because all this will be so much better. And your body won’t hurt then, but if you stay I’ll comfort you best I can.

…I want to post what he wrote back to it but I’m stopping myself from sharing every aspect of my life, plus it would be kind of a cuntish thing to do to him. Whatever he wrote one line about liking the pieced, and the rest about how the sky looked at that particular time.

Oh hell no, HELL NO, that reads like ’’you’re insane and I’m distancing myself from you” to me. Hurts dude, it fucking hurts. I need to come up with another word for ‘stay’ as I don’t like to use the same word (except of course for ‘the’ and ‘and’ and shit) twice in a poem. Its crazy to think I thought he loved me (unwarranted or not), he used that word SEVERAL times in his letters to me before meeting up in Paris, lost in the vocabulary, lost in the moment, lost in romantic poetry he’s read; whatfucking ever. I’m not love material I guess, well fuck I know I am but I never love dudes who love me like they should. I’m cursed bro, CURSED. JUST GIVE ME SUCCESS AND I’LL STOP BITCHING ABOUT IT, its hard to want one thing and bitch about the closest thing that comes to it, fuck it all dude, fuck it all.

I’m smelling that douchebag now, WHEN WILL IT END, I STILL WANT HIM SO BADLY. But damn I want to bang that skinny bartender, going to make it happen.

Three and a half hours’ish since I left that bar, still drunk but could be drunker now, would it be insane to go back out again and drink some moreeeee?! I know places in the Moulin Rouge are still open. I’M NOT TIRED AND I DON’T HAVE WORK TILL THURSDAY

^^This is when I went to the Bukowski conference ;)

^^Intense conversation, can’t keep my eyes open ;)