one_and_another_and_one_again jane one: dramatics fade away like hopscotch memories on a day where memories could be mirages or other figments of the imagination. you throw insults and compliments at me, but are they really what they seem? and the not knowing makes me feel idiotic, which adds weight to the insult side of the scale of justice. my fingers are drunk tonight typing the late_night_rambling; they seem to have gotten into the whiskey again. they feel like gold, but gold has no sense to it, gold is an impermeable element, something coveted that keeps me from blathering on about what i really want to say, and continues the useless typing that becomes this written rant. the words you throw at me only mask your confusion with more confusion, and that never got us anywhere. but i'm sure the blueprints in your head showed the floor plan for this so-called relationship in the first place, miles ago in this race you knew how it was going to end. i hate those kind of people, who map out their lives, never allowing room for spontaneity or pleasure, wine and long nights talking, conversations that start when the sun sets and end when it shows its unfeeling gold face once more. i have felt nights like this, when stars are my only friends, when memories seem like movie trailers. but they are my movie trailers, my clips to grasp onto with all my might, because in a second everything i know may be gone. i've walked alone on the beach, longing for random strangers' invitations, a stangers kiss is always warm. because no one can ever decipher that code in a minute, but it always makes sense when one occurs. another: the night does funny things, nothing ever seems to make complete sense to me anymore, or maybe i am only conscious when i am sleeping. i want to wake to the feeling of your breath in my ear, something subtle but comforting nonetheless. i want to see your eyes closed, so trusting and pure, and i know the green that shines beneath those lids. fortune's fool never felt nights like this, never saw eyes like yours, never felt arms wrapped around so close and then woke to see it's only blanket wrapped around you from your lashing around while you sleep. one: and i'm sure you lash around; how could you sleep peacefully with those words you've thrown like when the ninth graders threw oranges at underclassmen. how could you not want to run through your house, breaking every piece of furniture, every dish, until all that bitterness for life is satisfied? how could you not break your life into pieces like i have broken this document? three pieces: two for you, one for someone else. you will never know what it is to feel this way, to be broken, to be jaded to words carelessly thrown. i have had words thrown at me my whole life, you are not the first, and especially not the first to affect me. and yet you have my greatest respect, i am glad the good lady honesty was present, the drugs have worn off, it's time to go to sleep... ...this is not about you... 030427 ... stork daddy that was the best you've ever written. i feel like i wasn't a fool after all. in truth i know i was. 030427 ... stork daddy well...bits of it. 030427 ... jane ah, thanks. and without any condescencion whatsoever. i'll tell my friend she was right about you and your pseudo-intellectuallism. nyu is having an aneurism 030428 ... stork daddy oh i'm pseudo everything...shuh...didn't we talk about this? you just wanted to use that word in front of everyone! 030428 ... jane sure, sure...you know you wanted it as much as i did 030429 ... imogene why can't you kids just work it out? 030429 ... ps pseudo ha ha ha... i used it! 030429 ... jane imogene, what are you doing here? 030429 ... got you back pseudo_intellectual 030519 ... stork daddy if it's anything like psuedo-leather, i don't see what the problem is 030519 ... r_r . 090820 ... fghio fghio 101114 what's it to you? who go blather from