Road.

If anyone is at all curious as to where my good intentions have shored up, the last that I saw of them they were quite happily paving the road to hell.

I feel like I am emerging from a mist of martyrdom.My own and other peoples.Utterly pointless.The food was crap and the service quel abominable.My review of this establishment will not be favorable,consider yourself warned…My stigmata is itching….

It has all filtered down to a dull drip and wielding the wrench of reinvention I have tightened it shut.Enough with the soul seepage says I.These are dangerous waters .These are traitorous tides darling and crowning the hit parade is Maynard crooning to my battered ears with an echo and a promise,with a map and a lesson.“Learn to swim,learn to swim,learn to swim…”

I let go of my anchor and breech the muddy surface like a bustout bullet.That 1st lung lacerating breath? Baby? You have never had it so good.

Dog paddle,Australian crawl,Butterfly,backstroke, boogaloo,mashed potato,hustle,tango,charlie fucking foxtrot over and out.

And lo! Look-e over yonder! Here comes Mick Jagger,skin tight yellow pants,loose hips and urgent information I do believe.What’s that Sir Glimmer twin? Ive got to move? (“Sticky fingers” 1971.)

Being that you wrote “Wild Horses”? Your wish is my command.

The best thing about holding ones breath and going under again,cutting ones self off,is the liberty.Hit the surface and you know you are alive….Hot shit right there.I will take solitude and liberty over pretty much anything anyone has to offer.Including cushion cut diamonds,oral relief and dried mango.Damn straight I am serious. I can deal with disappointing myself .I can,will and am beating myself up and out of it.Elvis only knows that I have had enough practice.I expect never to be let off the hook for past transgressions.What a pipe dream! That is up there with the evergreen “The check is in the mail” and that well polished old chestnut “I wont cum in your mouth”.

It would be expecting far too much from people who have sadly proven themselves to mean,in the big picture-a-rooney,far too little,.So, in the name of science,Led Zepplin and a high stepping good time I ,in turn will also not forgive.

I can live with that.The question is can you?

I have to step away or step on it.Shit breaks because it is broken and all the love,guitar strings,peacock feathers,MC5 bootlegs and angel spit in the world is not gonna hold it together no matter how hard I put my tattooed back into it.I am not mired in anything of importance right now and the more I think about it ,coasting as I have been,as I find my fat sad self doing? It is not lending me any luster whatsoever so its time to harden up and get right.Indulgence,sadly, does not suit me .It makes my self loathing cycle kick in to third gear and hum dozily down the highway to hell,you know the one? Paved with my good intentions?

Hey……

Wasn’t this where we came in?

I have to face facts.I was built for diligence,routine and discipline.Once a grunt always a grunt.Deny your nature and die faster.I thought that I could fix it by fading away.I can admit that I was wrong.But at least  knowing now for sure? Its  a relief.

Five something in the am and I have just used all the hot water.Washed and scrubbed and so on.Being that I am fuck and fumble free maintenance has not been at a premium and my lady garden was in need of a napalm drop.Mohair hot-pants.I blunted three razors on lovely legs ,pits and aforementioned rubber bits.I had to start somewhere.I am gross and hating myself and its just not on.Never before have I neglected my machine to such a damaging degree and it has finally made me sick.

(BLUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH)

And for what? Some kind of lovelorn penance? To disguise my lupine nature and wild white-trash heart? Impossible! I will plead temporary insanity now please excuse me while I chain myself to the treadmill.

As my most beloved third grade teacher once told me,starched of collar and white of hair “The lord believes in starts Michele Marie Madden”. And the hardest thing about them is just that.I am now on my way.

Interesting things fueling me this round (Ding!Ding!Ding!). I have found myself bogged under other people’s anger of late and y’all got to believe me when I tell you that it is one depressing and muy shitty state of affairs.I get to thinking if I hadn’t have let myself go so low for so long I don’t think it ever would have come to this but that and five bucks will get you a coffee.You can’t hang around and cop snide shit under the guise of friendship because the other party feels slighted by some lack in you that you were not even aware of.Something that you didn’t know you were meant to feel or fulfill.

I want to go and live in the middle of nowhere and talk to myself. This people shit? This civilization scam? I say you can blow it out your nine to five ass.You are welcome to it.I am done.D-o-n-e,done.And yes that is a fork sticking out of my behind.

The dirtiest for letter word I can think of at this point in my sound soaked existence is l-o-v-e.Oh honey this? This ain’t a smile silly!Its a scar.

Well,there’s a few less names on my Hanuka list.

Sad but true. You cant make anything up to someone who keeps throwing shit in your face.I am not going to engage so I guess that is me sauntering off into the sunset then.With my fat thighs rubbing together.Ugh.My cup runneth over.Literally.I am living in sports bras and a silken sheen of self loathing.

I want to believe in fate because I am a fool.Happy endings because i am hatefully human.These are faults to be fixed.Errors to be annihilated.They lead to loss and stupidity.What was it that I was after? I wanted to have it all come right so I could shove it up the worlds ass and then righteously retreat,held held high to our compound the desert with my man and make a mess.I get so cranky that it didn’t work out the way I wanted it to (*stamps foot*) .My petulant prince is lost and throwing his fuck into what looks like a raisin faced Slim Jim crossed with a malnourished eight year old boy on smack.Atlas shrugged and Jesus wept.

Whatever right?

So pray tell, what does the Queen of noise focus on in lieu of longing for the irretrievable? Why her month long musical residency sharing the stage with the cream of punk rock royalty throughout the month of April on every Wednesday night of course! Heh.I have locked Blackie in as he is my security blanket when it comes to this acoustic caper.And because his songs just plain rule.

Time to put on The Stooges and clean my boudoir while sipping peppermint tea.Start the starts and smile when the road rises to meetcha.

Cinchy non?

Oui.