The silence followed even longer than she expected. There she sat, wondering if this was again a pause or if she had ruined it permanently. But had she ruined it? All she did was ask a question about why she was spending her time, her Energy, her payfe, and other treats.
She has a right to know. This is her personal wealth she is slowly, but steadily depleting as she makes all these investments, although totally unsure of their possible prosperity, hoping that one of these investments will be her Derecha.
It is similar to a crack cocaine addiction. That Derecha high, although it dissipates, ignites some mechanism of memory that maintains a sliver of the greatness of the high to make her chase it for the rest of her damn life.
And sometimes she knows very well that this could not possibly be her next high. The ingredients of that particular drug will not induce that Derecha. And even with that knowledge, she pays for the pill anyway, hoping to at least mimic the high or create the high on a lower level.
He is not it. The mind, the body, the culture, the goals, the right idiosyncrasies or the right inexplicable passion that cancels out the lack of all the aforementioned attributes: he is not those things.
But chase is engaging and even if not fulfilling…it is better than standing, full, as a Styrofoam woman.
You are My Favorite Mistake
12:11am
Monday, 02.18.08
It is a solid Monday morning. It is the type of morning that we often refer to as ‘last night’ because the situations seem to be reserved to the day that they began. It started on Sunday night and although it continued into Monday, Sunday owns it.
Having several blogs has proven to be a little taxing. Some blogs are neglected as I cultivate and nourish another one. They are organized thematically, although I am not able to adequately explain their different themes, I can feel when something belongs in a particular blog.
My Word Processor does not recognize the word ‘blog’.
I fear that you blogs are replacing my actual journal. I do not write in the same manner here like in my journal, as I use names and far more specific details in my tangible journals, but they take away the currency I spend on my journal and monopolize it for their own gain. I spend my creative currency on cultivation of some aspect of the blogs.
Well anyway, that is one of the smallest mistakes I am making.
My favorite mistake:
Me: I wanna knw sumthn.
Him: Whats that?
Intoxicated Pause
Him Again: Whats that u wanna knw?
Me: Is this just yours?
No Response [Interpreted in my mind to be: Bitch, don’t ask stupid questions. I don't want you]
It is a good thing that I am used to being a fool, otherwise this mistake would not be so sweet. I am going to meditate. I almost typed masturbate…Jesus, take the wheel.
Signed,
That Lint Licker
