sensibleunsensible

If I’m saying mean things about you, it’s because I like you. Unless it’s because I don’t like you. But you’ll know the difference…probably…

K: “Yeah, if I’m running and people get in my way I give them the elbow.”
J: “So, you’re kind of an asshole?”
K: “It’s not my fault people can’t walk.
J: “It’s not my fault you’re healthy. Use running paths, not sidewalks.”
K: “Yeah,I’m not going to do that.”
J: I’m putting you on Youtube…”

Perhaps the thing to keep me sane is that my ex would get so much satisfaction if I went totally off the deep end.

Take heart people: there is a finite amount to which a morning can suck.
Except, possibly that’s not true.
Not if the universe is expanding.
Now I’m confused…

I awakened to dryness and the ferns were dead,
the potted plants yellow as corn;
my woman was gone
and the empty bottles like bled corpses
surrounded me with their uselessness;
the sun was still good, though,
and my landlady’s note cracked in fine and
undemanding yellowness; what was needed now
was a good comedian, ancient style, a jester
with jokes upon absurd pain; pain is absurd
because it exists, nothing more;
I shaved carefully with an old razor
the man who had once been young and
said to have genius; but
that’s the tragedy of the leaves,
the dead ferns, the dead plants;
and I walked into a dark hall
where the landlady stood
execrating and final,
sending me to hell,
waving her fat, sweaty arms
and screaming
screaming for rent
because the world has failed us
both
#bukowski

i won’t be too scared
i won’t be too tired
i’m becoming
hardwired

“What I wonder is if she meant to do it on purpose,” I said. I was crossing and uncrossing my legs. My knees couldn’t get comfortable.

She was perched on a stool, delicately balanced looking down at me from that vantage.

“What does that matter?” she said.

Well it matters to me. I figure she either meant to do it to me maliciously or she did it because my feelings just didn’t matter. I just didn’t matter. Didn’t factor in.

Whether she wanted to destroy me or just didn’t care – it’s hard to say which is harder to comprehend.

“She was your lover, but she was never your partner,” she said.

“I know,” I said. “I’ve never had that. I don’t even know what that looks like.”

###

On my dresser is a statuette for the hanging of rope necklaces and chains – on the bottom the lovely figure of a curvy woman in a tight evening dress with a bend in the waist perfect for placing your hand and slit up to the thigh. Up top, there is no head and two wire arms for holding things.