So,

Who else fantasizes about getting away with murder? About how to commit the perfect crime?

It’s been a while since I’ve cared about anything, really. Which is why
I’ve not written here for a few months. And I guess this morning, I’ve
realized why.

So you see, I’ve spent the last couple of years Believing.

I believed that
“Things will get better.”
“It’s not as bad as it seems.” and
“I’ve gotten through worse, I can get through this.”

And so far, I have – more or less…

But then the crusher – the worst of it all was: “I believe in you.”

So all this Faith I’ve put in your hands, all this Faith and Power I’ve
given to you and him and him and her and so on and so forth – to all
the very, very few people I’ve trusted to improve this world

Well…. not one of you have ever deserved it then?

Was it all …. was it all just bullshit you were feeding this captured
animal, this incapacitated innocence? Because I will admit to that -
yes, I will admit to
that – that I’m as gullible as a dog that runs to fetch something you pretend to throw.

And you can say that it’s Me I should believe in. You can say that I
should have Faith in Myself. And you can say it’s Not Your Problem and
Not Your Life and all the other excuses you can give me. But I just
wanted to say:  I Believed in You, but I won’t anymore.

I don’t believe in anything anymore.

Thank you for showing me this.

Sarah’s Responses To:

You should quit smoking.

1. You should quit being so ugly.
2. You should mind your own fucking business.
3. Suck my balls.
4. Every time someone says that to me, I get to smoke for one extra month. Thanks.
5. At least my vice is obvious.

Smoking is bad for you.

1. Your existence is bad for me.
2. Really? I totally didn’t know that, like ohmagawd!
3. Suck my balls.
4. Oh no, see – according to karma, if it’s bad for me, then good
things will happen eventually, right? Cuz that’s what Christ teaches us.
5. We all kill ourselves in our own special ways.

When are you going to stop smoking?

1. When are you going to stop being so fucking ugly?
2. When pigs freeze over.
3. Suck my balls.
4. Sometime this year.
5. When I get my dog.

….So I sez to myself – I sez fuck that shit just pack up your fucking
bags, sell all your shit, and move already fucking moron…

cuz lord knows how this is all gonna end, Mickey – how it’s all gonna end
and every time it goes like this, it gets a lil harder, ya know? jus a lil harder and it all
goes
to
shit.

so hyperbolize, wax lachrymose, in other words, put seventeen bullets
into the dead mule carrying a load like
Atlantis.                
In other words, stop the bus cuz I’m getting off…..

so what’s going on in my life that’s got my panties in a wad? Laney and
Scarlett and Hyde have formed a love triangle that threatens to erupt
in a cataclysmic shower of bullets. Or knives. Depends on who draws
first, I guess.
The other night, I offered to take Laney somewhere safe, safe from
herself and the others, but I knew before asking that she would say no
- cuz I mean, who the hell wants to be taken to the nuthouse? – (though
I told her it’s more like a country club than anything – and you can
eat all the mashed potatoes you want if you like – and paint all day -
and watch Fried Green Tomatoes a cupla hundred times cuz that’s the
only video that works.

In other news, the CO2 uptake rate of plants can be proven with a
simple experiment involving a stem of anacharis, a test tube, and a
closet; which leads to the basic premise of establishing a plateau of
nutrients to outcompete algae using Estimative Index.

Please sign my petition boycotting the use of Dihydrogen Oxide as the primary compound of household cleaning agents.

Dear Mickey,

About the other night, when I gave you a hug, consider that a promise
that I’ll be your friend forever. Even if you murder someone, I’ll help
you hide the body.

So the whole thing about money and shit? I wish I could fix it. I wish
I could do something. I have grand ideas that no one believes in but
there’s still time, right? And I wanted to say – an old cliche, I know
- but I wanted to say: at least you’re not a paraplegic.

Because sometimes when we don’t hear from you for a while, I think maybe you’ve gotten into a car accident and no one told us.

But yeah,
I just wanted to let you know that I’m a big fan of yours, and that one
day you’ll be sitting on the beach with white sand prickling at your
legs and there will be no care in the world until I run over and dump
seawater on your face because you were supposed to be making the
burgers and I’m starving already.

Love,
The Admiral of the Sock Puppet Army of Doom

What are you afraid of? Is it the strangeness of being in a new city?
Because I sympathize – knowing what it’s like to move somewhere and not
really having a choice, but knowing that you chose to do it anyway.
That city can be…. apathetic to the plight of Northern Californians
who have dreams and goals. It’s like a stagnant lagoon evaporating in
the sun, slowly revealing old fears.

But there is a park there. Balboa Park. Have you visited yet? Have your
friends taken you? And yes, it’s bothersome not having a car, but there
are buses and believe me, it will be worth it. There are museums. There
are wide open fields of roses and flowers. Go to the fountain at the
front. Go at dusk when the sun is gone but the world is still glowing
like a newborn. Go and sit with your back to the fountain, watch the
streetlights turn on, and you’ll see my ghost sitting there, waiting
for my lover.

Or on a free afternoon – not that you have many – but on a free
afternoon, go to the San Diego Zoo. Spend some hard-earned cash (and it
will be much, but it will be worth it) and buy a year pass – students
get a discount. The zoo will be a sanctuary. When you are lonely, when
you are scared, there you will find good listeners. Also, say hello to
the old licentious tortoise and his harem of beautiful girls for me.

We miss you very much. This place is no longer the place it was without you.

Love,
Sarah

Dearest Amy,

I think the big thing is that no one really knows how to say “Goodbye”
anymore. I mean, think about it. We kind of numb ourselves to it, and
when it happens, we step back from the scene and pretend like it’s two
people in the movies saying goodbye, and we’re sitting comfortable in
our seats watching the scene play out before us.

So when someone dies, it’s a shock – we can’t pretend it away because
the reality of it is too immediate, too personal. It is having
something and refusing to let it go. It’s really as simple and as
cliche as that, isn’t it? The selfishness of it, the single-mindedness
of an amoeba.

So I’m going to tell you something else now. The reasons why I don’t
like leaving the house – they are numerous, they are silly, they
are….. things I’ll try to put into words – and sometimes it’s just a
case of me lying to myself about what it is exactly that makes me happy
- and if you’ve read this far, then you deserve a kumquat – but what
makes me happy is doing what I want to do.

You can’t really do what you want to do when you’re with people -
otherwise they think you’re crazy (you remind me of the babe…) 

Besides – why go out and drink only to watch a movie – all sitting
there like corpses put on display, staring vacantly at a box of moving
pictures, trying to follow a plot you can recite in your sleep because
we dream these things all the time – the memories of every dead soul
reverberates in the mitochondria of each cell.

Now that you’re going to San Diego, it’s almost like we’re switching
places. But when I think about it, it’s like you’re moving backwards,
because sometimes I wish we could trade places and I could be where
you’re going now.

But onwards –

That’s what my mom said to me once – stop living in the past and always look forward.
And I know you – I know that’s what you’ve been doing ever since I met
you – everything you did seemed to concentrate on a vanishing point – a
metamorphosis I could not comprehend because it meant this: you would
become an adult, and I will always be lost in Neverland.

So this was my love letter to you. I hope you enjoyed it and I’m kind
of glad you never read anything I ever wrote until now. I hope whatever
you read hereafter can bring you some entertainment when your classes
get dull, some solace when your eyes burn with frustration.

Until we meet again,
Your friend,
Joan (aka Sarah)

P.S. Miles came by work today.

Twinkie.

Twinkie’s mansion.

“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.”

I finally have my very own pet sea monster.

Yesterday:

They were doing construction at Laney’s appartment complex and a
gasline broke. All her birds dropped dead. Literally. She was sitting
on the couch watching tv with Crazy the cockatiel on her shoulder. He
cooed once, looked at her, then fell like a stone – like something made
of grief rather than feathers.

“It’s a ghost with no arms or feet running away from a vampire.”

FEAR ME.