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Archive

Posts Tagged ‘love’

“You should change your blog name to ‘Clantily Sad'”

December 16, 2013 1 comment

I’m still alive, sort of. Still lacking in motivation to produce any form of original content. My blog is like the stepchild in a broken home that I give inconsistent amounts of attention to and can’t decide if I like or not.

Filler post for December.

I’m running out filler material for this place actually; most of the poetry I wrote in high school does not stand the test of time. (Oh, the angst. Never quite The Pain Tree bad, but still cringe-worthy enough to never be shared.) But there was some clever enjambment in here that I still like.

Nerdy, Angry, Fuck

  • Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

I think it’s hot when strippers cry on their master’s
degrees, when meteorologists make innuendos
when your mother pretends to be Jewish.

Sometimes I wish I had synesthesia
so I could palpate youtube’s
myriad turtle sex clips with my retinas
though I wish there was more to do
on a Friday night than watching
ugly animals fuck online.

I have a Dukakis sticker on my teenage
mutant ninja turtles lunchbox from 88′
It’s currently filled with positive
pregnancy tests, disposable cell phones
and a picture of your mother.

Love insurance premiums:  $99.99 a month!
Good student discounts. Press 1 for more options.

It’s like that time I asked why she didn’t
love me anymore and she replied
“supply side economics.”

I told her her metaphor sucked;
our relationship had too many uncertainty principles
to be graphed criss-cross on an X and Y axis,

We were more like 2 out-of-sync sine waves reaching for infinity
until the tequila ran out.

Para continuar en las lenguas románticas
oprime el número dos.

I sent a letter of complaint to her new
PO Box in MN, asking her to return my soul
for the full amount, in the payment method
in which it was received.

She doesn’t know it, but she’s still
the spaces between my fingers
when I’m clawing for sanity in my sleep
and the moment mid-clasp, when I stop.
Go limp.
Lips.

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Categories: I arted Tags: , , , , ,

Poem For Sunday – “Something for the Boys” by Heather Bell

October 6, 2013 1 comment

(CC) Creative Commons, attribution, noncommercial, 2005. Candice Hall.

Something for the Boys

by Heather Bell

1. i sure as hell wasn’t east of eden, more like west of grant boulevard in a city that should be burned down. He was test-driving my new car, i was thinking how people are kind of “exit only,” and i’m always the stupid kid jiggling the handle outside for hours.

2. i don’t know if people wear hearts on sleeves anymore. it seems a stupid idea anyway. when you’re drunk and fucking you’re most likely naked too.

3. in the parking lot of walgreen’s an orange cat hit his car’s hood and i jumped, frightened. he was smiling a little when he said he didn’t love me anymore but let’s be friends! let’s get our prescriptions together! let’s be the regularly scheduled program! and still drink pepsi and go to church! in the parking lot of walgreen’s i kept thinking about that cat. like, what if it was homeless. and needed me.

4. i collect magnets on my refrigerator and coffee mugs from displaced little towns. so far i have one mug. and two magnets. i also collect love letters. i have almost the same amount of letters as the amount of blowjobs i have given and handjobs i have given and times i have worked like a drug mule for the united states government. which is not very much.

5. he told me he wanted proof of this love thing i was always talking about. i said here’s your proof you asshole and i flicked him off. some people will just never get it.

6. i just want to love someone like a jew about to be led away to crucifixion.

7. mama tells me its like archeology. at the top is mostly used condoms and old beer bottles. don’t mistake dirt for beauty. unless you want dirt, she says. some people want that, she says. some people do.

8. my most recent finding sleeps in my bed like a roman arch. he told me he might want to live by elephant head road. i think that sounds fine to me. i wonder if you hear them at night, the thunder of their mating so clumsy and outrageous. he says maybe maybe doll baby and trips over our suitcases, laughing.

9. i start collecting postage stamps for all the places we will go. a couple years ago i was dating this guy who had a box in his room labeled “human remains,” but when i opened it there was nothing inside. i’m so glad i no longer know that guy. postage stamps seem much easier to keep track of.

10. i wake up suddenly at four am just to make sure the man i love is still breathing. he finds me in the closet hours later ripping up the love letters, laughing, calling them communist propaganda, mosquito nets, pornographic material. i say look at these, these chain letters. don’t you hate chain letters? so do i. so do i. no one ever replies unless they are really desperate or really in love.

From Heather Bell’s Poetry Collection: “How to Make People Love You.”

Categories: Cool Shit Tags: , , , , ,

Wil Wheaton on Why Being a Nerd is Awesome

Inspirational speech. Via wilwheaton.net:

During my panel, I was asked by a young woman to explain to her newborn daughter, Violet, why it was awesome to be a nerd. As it turns out, I’ve been having that conversation with my sons for their entire lives, so I spoke from the heart and told her.

I’m very lucky in that every now and then, I get to say something and people will listen to me. It’s an incredible gift from the great elder gods that I treasure, and respect, so I do my best to honour it when I get to use it. This video went pseudoviral yesterday while I was traveling home, so I suppose you could say that I got to be Dad of the Internet for a little bit, which is kind of neat.

He is a professional geek. Love my nerds and geeks. ❤

On Love: A biological addiction

In regards to a romantic relationship, the question “Where are we going?” has nothing to do with the future. The rhetoric itself is irrelevant. The answer is or should always be, “I don’t know.” Things are going well if you’re not asking the question, if you are immersed with the present, if you are content.

I just had my first major relationship come to a depressing end. Normally, I wouldn’t be writing about in here; I had made a distinct mental effort to try to not let my personal life superimpose onto this blog. That’s what my livejournal is for. But I decided I should make exceptions when I want to comment on my behavior being more human than I would like.

You see, being in love, is lot like being a drug addict. Literally. Brain scans of people reportedly “in love” show heightened activity in areas that correlate to those of people on drugs. Informational article here: http://www.oxytocin.org/oxytoc/love-science.html

I think I have to admit: I’m an oxytocin and vasopressin junkie. Romantic human interaction produces palpable changes in the brain, and I’ve felt them for the last year of my life, the year I wasn’t single.

The break up may have been particularly hard on me because I’m clinically depressed but untreated– I’m one of those X million Americans without health insurance–so the “feel-good” chemicals associated with love became akin to a drug hit. I was, and unfortunately remain, quite addicted to my boyfriend.

Intellectually, I am not an emotional person. My emotional responses disagree. My actions are often nothing like I plan them out to be in my head. This discrepancy has been one of the worst truths in my life and created internal turmoil you wouldn’t belief.

As I begin my “love withdrawal” I find that I have a better understanding of not only myself, but of the relationships of those around me. When I was younger, I couldn’t logically fathom why people acted the way they do. And now I have experienced and realized: the reasons are often biological in basis.