another near-death experience?

and after 9 years, it still scares the living daylights out of me.

fuck drunk driving
fuck crying
fuck you, bruce
fuck you, patsy

thank you, awkward rickshaw man ( benjamin ), for the blanket and for making me laugh when i felt like i was going to sob like there was no tomorrow.

is it less heartfelt if i wrote it after watching an episode of house?

i’ve had all my dreams in the dark
but none of them were ever
                                                             as real
                                                             as you
morning bells ring
blues
and spotted dogs sing
twos
and none of them
as real as you

i wrote this around christmas/new years and forgot about it.
inspired by synesthesia and something called charles bonnet syndrome. look them up, they’re both pretty cool, especially the last one. it’s like having a ghost limb only for blind people.

titles? please?

.. maybe just “ghost limb”?

 

 

 

expect nothing

and you will gain everything.

.. uh, right?

in five days, i will have been alive nineteen years. the prospect doesn’t bore me, i’m not jaded or indifferent to birthdays. in fact, i’m rather excited, but i’m a little afraid to even get excited about it, because things rarely turn out the way we want them to. but nineteen is my favorite number ( along with four ), so i’ve decided that this is going to be a good age for me, and hopefully it will be.

talk is cheap.

scheming and slipping through loopholes and under the fences of every obstacle i find myself faced with. it’s not a bad way to live, just incredibly depressing and unfulfilling after a while. settling for just the basics as far as living goes ( shelter, food, water, air, books ), doing just what you feel you’re able to do at that moment and not striving to shoot for anything else, just talking about it.

as they say, talk is fucking cheap.

after being convinced ( i.e. threatened with bodily harm ), i drove a huge goddamn pickup truck around an empty parking lot for almost two hours on new years eve. we have a black president now for chrissake’s. it’s time for me to change too.

i just hope i can do it.
wish me luck.

actually, better yet, call me once in a while and say, “amy, are you driving? right now?”
if i say no, hang up on me, come to my house and kick my ass all the way out to the car.

wish, granted

i spent the last bit of the old year and the first minutes of the new year driving a monster(ous) truck around the lowe’s parking lot in easley while shouting “THIS IS THE MOST TERRIFYING MOMENT OF MY LIFE”, but sort of enjoying myself, then went back to pickens where i watched movies at my dad’s house, sang what i knew of “auld lang syne” to my dog outside while i took out the garbage and read in bed up until right now.