Moron.

This is all slightly regressive I freely admit but I am going to blame it on the,hold on,I wanna get the spelling right….Clarithromycin 250mg and the Amoxycillin and Clavulanic acid 875mg/125mg.The latter of which could choke a mule.

Felled by some renegade virus once again due to the fact that all it does here is fucking rain.I am  quel miserable and sleeping on and off around the clock.Worst luck for me it is now the weekend which means people will be home.I despise  having people around when I am like this.Gutted that I cannot lord over my door tonight but I feel like I have been run over by a truck and I look like someone lit a fire on my face and put it out with a fork. Door greatness is therefore not an option. I know from daft past experience that its better to see it through when it comes to being ill or it will strike again.

Sickness always turns my obstinate head towards the duel destination of Lost Romance and spite.Come join me now as I wander,fever struck and grumpy, though my take on the human condition while armed with a debilitating sinus infection,a flame thrower and a ball peen hammer in case of hand-to-hand combat.

The title refers not only to me but to the bastard thing that flips around like a strafed fish in my red glitter rib cage.Heart?

Meh. Maybe once…now its the non-fucking-stop-daytime-Emmy-award-winning-soft-focus-montage entitled “The death of hope”

My languishing lackluster love-pump is a short bus window licker.It chats to the fire hydrant outside the station and has the mental maturity level of a severely challenged nine year old.(…look-it all the rabbits George!)

See ,I have this problem.Or let’s try and think positive….I Had this problem…..( That right there is an understatement that is of gold medal winning proportions let me tall ya….) Onwards dark horse….,Ok, so I have many but this one that I just happen to be  doing a foxy power point presentation on this fine evening runs as such.I have loved once and I do not know how to stop.There, said it. Unfortunately the one I gave myself to is like a shitty old Cadillac that just stops and starts ,stops and starts the live long fucking day.

I’m starting to think that common sense better fire a .45 into my engine block soon ’cause this shit needs to stop.

It will pass.I am getting stronger by the day.

So let us focus instead on the vagaries of the human condition when it comes to relationshits,and no,that is not a typo….

They love the chase.That’s what it comes down to,not the kill and sitting here tonight in my Van Halen tee shirt( 51-50…duh.) and  stripy Auschwitz pajama pants with a fetching balsamic vinegar satin on the left knee ,I can see how I am not the pinnacle of prizes when it comes to the evergreen quest of bagging a hottie.But that’s not the point…what was my point?…oh yeah….So, you open yourself up again and what happens?

From what I can ascertain they forget your number and go back and mess with the walking dead in the city of angels.They don’t pick up the phone after weeks of daily contact,they lie about their supposed single status.One hopes that one would wrap one’s meat? Or stick to finger banging while wearing a Hazmat suit? Just sayin’ ,just sayin….

As for me? I was last handled *ahem* July 2010. That’s a barren eighteen  frozen  months of fuck free living.My hymen has grown back over. Still can’t jerk off.It has almost become casual conversation topic in my rather small and needless to say ,addled,social circle.

Scene-Bar.Almost empty and dim lit.

Barmaid pulling a pint looks up as Fat ass Mc loveless walks in.

“Knocked the top off it yet?”

Close up on staff looking on with curiosity and pan to loveless.

“Nah……”

I jump on Pornhub every few weeks to see if its gonna work.Douse myself in the finest hardcore butt-fucking-squirt-fest- 3 way- hoo- hah and -so -on -etc that the net has to offer.But to no avail.I may as well be watching wildlife documentaries.Which,I guess I am.

Yawn.

It doesn’t. Work that is.

I should donate myself to medical science.They could use me as a door stop at Sloan-Kettering.Maybe a nice water feature? In some little- used courtyard perhaps.Cut one of my legs off ,stand me in a hole and stick a hose up my ass and voila!

boring…..

The only cool thing I have done of late was sit on the floor of a pet shop today and made out with  a 1200 dollar pug puppy.He was licking me like I was covered in mince.Loving on me like I was a bacon Popsicle.I wish I could have got him.Made me long for the puppy I left behind in the LBC.When Henry Rollins of Black Flag,to use his full name,was just a baby burrito I used to wake up with him snoring half on my face,usually with his front paw in my mouth.

It’s never the same and there is nothing that interests me at all.I was ever so captivated by the future I lost you see…..

So what of a future now I wonder? I have a hard time summoning up any real hunger anymore.Much like my beloved Stones I try and I try and I try and I try.….You can’t go back but where do you go when all you wanted is gone? I was speaking to Saint Tina about it recently.When you strip back all the shit that we do,say and buy to make ourselves feel more important that the fertilizer we are bound by our very existence to become …..the bottom line,as I see it ,so that is how I am going to call it,on human relations runs as thus.

1-Who are you?

2-What the in the hell do you want?

3-What is it going to cost me (Financially ,emotionally etc)

4-How long will it take me to recover when you are done and gone.

Ta-da! Pretty fucking astute if I do say so myself.

While I was in bed for 2 weeks with the last sinus infection that wanted to kill me I let my guard down.In that snot coated time I slept and had my hope re-ignited.I guess everyone must have an Achilles heel (right? Right??? please say they do,please,please…..) ’cause I am the fucking point walker.I am the insomniac that can’t leave a detail alone.( poke…poke..poke….)

I am 8 million note books and a homicidal urge as forbiddingly huge as the Hindenburg that I have to deflate by the day.

I hate that I am a fool in one place alone.That there is one person that can toy with me.That’s just the kind of  sneaky bastard feeling that makes a fifth of scotch sing to me like a siren,syringes sweet and swaying,loaded up with 30cc’s of  narcotic numb and sweet bubble free nevermore,Marlboro’s rasp and march like white soldiers panting to decorate the snarling corner of my fat pout,sharp things know me by name and wanna open me swift and flashy like an a discount rug warehouse…

“But no!” cries our fat manically depressed heroine. “Cause I can’t let it win.”

I’m not entirely sure what I think it is that I would forfeit at this late point of the game.It’s tempting only for the briefest of moments.I  may not dig myself right now (” Envelope pl-ease…..and “No-brainer of the year goes toooooooooooo”……) but to dwell in the ranks of those I hate would be signing the slowest death warrant of all time.So that,bummer in the summer for my eternal teenager,is o-u-t.

Everyone I know is a finger pointing bullshit artist so eager to lovingly expose the faults of their so called nearest and dearest.Who left the drugs out so the kids could find them,who’s drinking too much,who is cock struck or pussy whipped.And these are the gods children.To paraphrase Hemingway,We are all fucked up and loused from the get go.No matter how much money or talent.

And the ones you love who cannot extend themselves the same courtesy will lay down with the lower beasts of the fucked field,with dogs,heroin hounds of  little or no distinction because in the 3 ringed circus of their self punishment they think that they deserve no better and and its a self fulfilling prophesy doncha know….

See,real love is almost like a second job and ya gotta work at it.Here was my dumb ass thinking I was worth it.That my dusty diploma was finally gonna be of some use.Ha.Hahaha….Why have someone who loves you,wants the best for you,supports all that you are and do ,good and bad when you can have an under fed,bitter faced,junkie hustler whore?

I know right? What was I thinking.Pass me the smelling salts and dim the lights on your way out if y’all would be so kind…..

Lord Elvis,I am a tired mama,lying here with the scent of puppy and ennui cloying and kinda sweet…..I had to cancel a show.I have never done that in my life.Fond memories of puking on stage in Berlin after having two teeth removed by a barbaric dentist in Hamburg the day before.

“Mit Gas?” I simpered hopefully from the prone position unable to take my eyes off the rolls of fat that encircled her neck like soft pink garlands of Vienna sausage.

“Nein!” she barked at me “Nein Gas!”

“Oh! so Now you don’t believe in gas??” I muttered darkly.

“Vat?” she barked

“Nothing ! Lets do this…”

And thanks to the largess of my record company paying my insurance I got butchered and lived to puke another show. I was dreaming that I had a show this Friday that I did months ago .I should have be practicing now but I had a sad on that I couldn’t seem to shake. I was opening a fashion parade for my friend Hexy.The Courtney to her Givenchy so to speak….Wishing I had big white angel wings to wear….Then I was in a hotel room in the twisted innards of Sydney with someone who knocked my socks off, too good to be true his plaid shirt like a perspiration soaked puddle on the floor,our intentions illicit….

Ah Dreams! Its safe there and Stevie Nicks wrote the mighty Fleetwood Mac’s only U.S number one hit about them so you know its gold standard all the way ( How do I know shit like that?)

Remember kids.

How much is it going to cost me?

Everybody leaves.

I am a moron.