I'm not in the mood to think about putting together sentences, so here's some more fill in the blanks, give me an answer type stuff.


My name, from here:

"The name Crystal creates a very independent, practical, analytical nature with
skillful business abilities. You desire freedom from restrictions and authority
in order that you can pursue your own ambitions. This name gives you leadership
qualities and you are seldom happy in positions where you must direction from
others. Material and financial success are the focus of your interests, but
sacrificing much for material ambition will result in a lack of harmony and
balance in your personal life, particularly a lack of appreciation for social
courtesies and things of a more inspirational nature."

I'm a bad person. Well, I know that's not entirely true, there is some good in me, but I'm a terrible relative.

My mother got attacked. Attempted rape. In Louisiana. It was months ago now, but I just found out over Christmas.

If you've ever driven any distance on this continent, you may recall seeing rest stops. They're these places where you can pull off the highway and go pee. They usually have picnic tables, too, so you can rest and eat.

My mom's a truck driver. Yes, the big rigs. When she first got her license 7 or 8 years ago, she got a job in Ontario with her second husband, driving team. That means they both drove the same truck, together. They could get twice as many jobs done with one person asleep while the other drove. That way, as well, mommy was always safe. She's shorter than me, but a little bigger, and a lot stronger.

Then, they got on the Cher Farewell Tour. They were both on the tour, but driving different trucks. They broke up during the tour. Mom continued driving by herself, even if it wasn't for Cher anymore. That's what brought her to a rest stop in Louisiana, all by her lonesome, needing to pee.

She was grabbed from behind upon leaving the bathroom. What saved her from her attacker was the illegal weapon she was carrying. My new step-daddy was concerned about his little woman driving by herself. He gave her one of those batons that policemen use. When you snap it out, it doubles in length. While the guy was pulling on her hair and neck, she whipped the baton across his legs. He reacted, releasing her, and she beat him a little before running away.

Except for the provider of her own special Cajun hot-sauce, I was the first person she called. [We had a close relationship up until the time that she moved to Ontario and I stayed behind, fending for myself in Bedford.] That was October, I think. She called a few times. I noticed an urgency in her voice in her messages, but it wasn't enough to make me come out of my busy life and call her back. I assumed it had something to do with HER mother. That woman is drinking herself to death.

It was one of the times that my mother needed me most. I wasn't there for her. I'm never there for anyone.

I am so fucking sick of my classes getting cancelled!!! What the fuck am I paying for anyway???

This is not the first time I've dragged my pathetic tired ass to school, only to discover that class has been cancelled. Maybe you could've said that yesterday, so I could manage my time better. But NO!!! You wait until today, and hang a sign on the door. I've been dicking around on a computer since 10:00. I have to wait till 12:30 to meet with someone for a group project. I can't even do my computer homework. The labs are taken for classes, and this computer doesn't have the right programs.

I know this won't be the last time this happens either. FUCKIN' FUCK. At least I know in advance that math is off tomorrow, so I can sleep in instead of coming here for nothing.

Day 7

I had three beer. That's ok. It's SATURDAY night!! And it's been a week. And the McFaddens played with Slitch, Flagshipsinker, the Hemingways, and the illustrious Deans. I can't recollect the last time I went a week without drinking. That's not an exaggeration, either.

I was questioned a couple times tonight when someone noticed the Oland's in my hand. Whatever. It's my life. I mean, thank you for your concern (and I mean that), but I only had three. Minor relapse. All I know is, IF I drink again soon, it'll be next Friday, at the party, and not every second day all week. And I won't "lose control."

I remember the last time I decided to quit drinking. It was July-ish last year. It was before my acting crazy stage. It was the puke everywhere stage. The Hold played our first show during that time period. It was a dingy basement on Agricola Street. There was a decent show at Bella Muse that night. We knew people were coming later, so we drank and waited. People we knew were at the Muse started drifting in and it was soon time to play...By the end of the night, I was found laying in the dirt outside. I think the street is Harris. You know, that patch of grass between the sidewalk and the curb? I was lying there, vomiting over the curb onto the street.

Then, a week later, King Konqueror played there. I got hit with the same dizziness/nausea. Problem was, I was up front, watching the band. Suddenly, I bolt, and start pushing my way through a sea of King Konq fans. I was also barfing on their legs and feet. I remember we bumped into Gerry that night. Me, "Hey, I just threw up all over a bunch of King Konqueror fans." Him, "Oh yeah? I just made some guy drink my piss."

I was humiliated after that. I went to the Khyber for coffee one day, and Dave Page was working. I felt really bad and apologized to him. People that found out that day were like "Oh, that was you? I stepped in that." Sorry. I had also recently thrown up all over the Seahorse "dance-floor." I don't remember when, or who was playing, but I know I was sitting on the stage wanting to go home, while Case chatted it up with Mike Adams. BLeeegahreklewjk..Yuck.

So, I quit drinking. I didn't even make it 1 week! Which is as long as I lasted this time. I decided, back then, that all I needed to do was moderate myself. The last 5 or 6 months has been me trying to moderate myself.

For some reason, I don't think it's working.

The McFaddens are playing tonight. I have a history of getting into trouble at McFaddens' shows. Chances are, not tonight, though, what with me being new and improved and all.

The first McFaddens show wasn't too bad on my part, but it was 2 years ago at the beginning of my return to debauchery. It was also the first show of that girl band I used to be in. I don't like saying the name of the band cuz it's the same band name as these guys. I got pretty drunk to compensate for being so fucking nervous. Before I got on stage half-naked, I was running around the Mokka lifting my skirt to show complete strangers my beautiful, silk-screened briefs. During HIC's set, I got hit in the face. My teeth smashed together, and now one of them is chipped.

Then there was this time that we played with them on Halloween. I started a fight that night, and her bigass boyfriend wanted to kick the shit out of KC. I think that thug was pretty smart [this should be obvious sarcasm]. See, this bitch was antagonizing me all night. I don't know if she was there early enough to know I was in one of the bands, but she got worse after I was onstage with the McFaddens. I spent the whole night leaning against one of those pillars they have in the Seahorse, minding my own business, drinking, and enjoying the show. She kept dancing into me; stepping on my feet, acting as if I wasn't there and she was hitting the pillar. I just nonchalantly crossed my arms out in front of me, to give myself some space. I wasn't going to give up my spot, I had been there all night, save the 20 minutes the girls played. The McFaddens hit the stage and were about to kick into the song they always start their set with. They asked all the bands who played earlier to get up there and yell the backups for them--"Hey, McFaddens!!!!!" So, we did. Like I said, she got much more aggressive after that. I convinced myself she was jealous of me. The arm crossing wasn't working, so I began nudging her. She took that as me starting something and got even worse. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, so I hauled off and shoved her with all my might. As can be expected, she flipped out. To my advantage, Ali just happened to come ask me if I wanted to leave and go up to the Marquee. So, I ignored the freak, and talked to Ali (who didn't even notice what was going on). "Did you see that? She's been shoving me all night. Fucking bitch. Now she's ignoring me." Her big, shaved headed, thug of a man looked at KC. KC shrugged and made some sort of gesture meaning "girls, fuck they're crazy." Thug Head looked at him with eyes of hate. Then, the band kicked into another song, distracting Thug Head and giving us our chance to exit.

Oh! And then there was that New Year's Eve...leaving '02, beginning '03. The McFaddens played, at the 'Horse, with, I think The Facelift Dirtboys, and maybe more bands, I got there late. Started drinking early in the afternoon, like every New Year's. Ended up at a few different houses, adding different liquors and drugs to the mix. By the time I hit the bar, I was completely blasted and it was already after midnight. I came out of my blackout in a strange bar. It had pillars, but they were different and the music was rank. I panicked because I didn't know where I was or what happened at all in the last couple of hours. "What the fuck? Where are we?! Are we at fucking Merril's or something!?!! What the fuck are we doing at fucking Merril's??" "Oh, so you don't remember coming here?" "No, I don't remember anything. I was with Bursey watching the Dirtboys." "So you don't remember making out with that guy?" "What guy?" "Oh, just some nerd." I honestly don't know what I did or said that night, but when I saw Chris a few days later, he said "Were you ... too?"

me-"huh?"
him-"New Year's?"
me-"Oh! Yeah...did I see you on New Year's?"

And then there was the show a few weeks ago...

Day 6 (longest time without a drink in at least 1.5 years.)
actually, I broke that record yesterday.

The first tempting day--Friday. I don't know what to do. I've been getting wasted every Friday, if possible, since I was 16 or 17. My stomach's been messed up for a few days now. I think it's not getting the recommended daily intake of beer. It's also getting a much higher intake of pop, especially Pepsi. That shit is nasty on your insides. My inability to sleep has turned into an inability to stop sleeping. If I didn't have someone waking me up and making fresh coffee for me, I'd stay in bed all day.

Tonight should be good. There's some romance planned. That excites me greatly.

P- "Crystal. I see you everywhere lately. I think you're stalking me."

me-"No, P, I think you are stalking me. I used to come here [Tuesday night jam] all the time, and I never used to see you here."

Really, guy, I know we were friends in elementary school and I helped you with math in Grade 10, but come on, it's not like I actually know you. I know you're gay, but that doesn't make it ok to be so fucking touchy. My friends can touch me that way. You are not a friend of mine. Maybe you used to be, but you're not even an acquaintance anymore. All I know about you is that you are still short, you cut you're hair and don't wear you're turban anymore, you're queer, and you used to work at the Dal bookstore. That is far from enough information to have you touching me and slobbering all over my cigarettes. I've always had problems with touchy people. In Grade 2, my parents threatened to sue the librarian if she EVER laid another hand on me again. They did that because I was so upset with the fact that she touched my shoulder once. She had a reason, and there was nothing wrong with what she did, but I'm a freak. I don't like people up in my personal space, unless I actually want that specific person in there. Yes, I hug and kiss my friends, and I like feeling hands on my arms (or legs, back, shoulders, etc.) when nice people talk to me. Maybe you are a nice person. But how would I know? All you said to me Tuesday was the above, as well as "I'm so drunk.", "I'm not gonna ask you for a cigarette cuz cigarettes are bad, but can I have a drag?"

Didn't you notice me pulling away from you as much as I could? Sometimes, I felt as if I was performing some strange dance where you'd put you're arm around me, and I'd twirl out of it, then you'd put it there again to pull me close and say something redundant. Repeat. At Reflections the other night, you kept rubbing my back. Ew. Only people I can use the word love to describe can fucking rub my fucking back. That's probably because, for me, it's an erogenous zone, I don't want you there.

Leave me alone. I'm getting creeped out.

On a somewhat related note, I think someone's stalking me in the dream realm. Really, that doesn't seem possible. It's my dreams, so I'm the stalker, right? Not if there's some sort of astral projection going on. Maybe that person has left his/her body, and come to visit me. All I know is I see the same face (although I don't recognize it) in almost all my dreams. No matter what the scenario, it's there; sometimes in the foreground, sometimes lurking in the shadows. Actually, I think I'm just insane...

So that's it? You're giving up on it, just like that? Or are you giving in to something? I don't know which it is, I just know you're quitting. You say you don't really enjoy it anymore; that you've felt like this for quite some time now. Personally, I can't imagine that. When I think of who you are, meaning my impression of you after knowing you for years, how could it be true that you don't really like it anymore? I have some great photos of you in action. I don't understand not missing it, but maybe I have something in me that you don't--at least not anymore. I miss it like crazy, but I miss you, too. Maybe it's true that you're "growing out of it." I guess there comes a time in some people's lives whent they have to stop playing music, settle down, and make some money. And with your career choice, you will be making some money. Thanks for getting up the guts to tell us. At least you're not holding us on by a string anymore. We'll figure something out. I still luv you, I like being your friend. We should hang out sometime, not at the jam spot...

I'm going to a bar tonight. Probably a mistake, I know. It's too soon in my, ah, recovery, to be in such a tempting situation. But, I'm NOT going to miss this, and I'll have to get used to it. I never even came right out and decided to quit, but I've been getting so much support lately, it's seems like the right time. Who knows, someday I might do something I really regret. And so what if I do have a drink tonight? Everyone relapses. Ok, not everyone. But it's pretty fucking common. It's pretty much expected that someone with a true addiction will relapse at least once. But I'm not going in there expecting to, either. Take it as it comes. IF I give in, I vow to be disappointed in myself, without beating myself up. I also vow not to go outta control.

Tonight's the last Jamboree in Hell. Well, it might not be the last one, but it's being advertised as such, and there's no guarantee that there ever will be another one. The last Heelwalkin' Jamboree was big, and fun. Tonight should be bigger and funner. If it's not, I'll find someone to blame. After all, the original hosts and the new ones are both playing, as well as other good bands in the city. Tonight will not be your typical Tuesday, sitting and staring at a stage thinking, "wow, no wonder these guys play here so much. They probably can't get and real shows."

Day 3

-anxiety much worse
-my whole chest is tense, as are my shoulders and neck
-I could not sleep until 3:00 last night, got up at 7:45
-a few minutes ago, I felt like crying, for no reason
-now, I am irritated and cranky

Day 2 (this is seriously the longest I've gone without a drink in months)

-fidgety, restless, bored
-can't concentrate, must do homework
-went to the grocery store today; only bought food
-flushed, flustered, panicky in the store
-didn't sleep well last night. I imagine tonight'll be worse
-mind's racing, not so numb anymore, more jumbled
-cigarettes do not fullfill the craving
-anxiety building in chest

Fireplace in a box.
What a great invention. I had heard of it before last night, but I'd never actually witnessed it. What a movie I must've watched it 3 or 4 times in a row, and I never got tired of it. I want to talk about the artistic creativity involved in making it, but that involves spoiling the plot for you.
It is a fire. It starts off real big, and burns down for an hour, getting smaller and smaller. I want to shake the hand of the person who actually built that fire. It was impressively huge to begin with. It burned for an HOUR, but not once do you see another log get added. The sound effects are perfect. They're even beter than the image of the fire. If you close your eyes, it honestly sounds like there is an authentic fire burning just a few feet from you.

But then there's the ending. If you'e started to get bored with the fire, you have to fast-forward to the end. The entire worth of the 'film' rests on the last 10-20 seconds. The director switches to slo-mo just before the big pop. You know the sound that is made when a log has a knot in it and the knot pops, or explodes? It was bee-u-ty-full. To see the flames take on such a personality. What was once a normal fire, on the vurge of burning out, breathes new life when viewed in slo-mo for 20 seconds. And if that wasn't good enough, here it comes, cccccccrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaacck. What an ending. I just popped witnessing it.

The potluck was fun. There was a decent sized crowd of decent people. The food was absolutely scrumptious. I was the youngest. It's been awhile since I was the youngest in a room, and never by 10 years. But that doesn't matter. OOPS!! (I've been told. I wasn't the youngest there. There were at least 2 people younger than me. Nifty! But age really isn't an issue. I just brought it up because it's not often I hang out with people 10 years younger than me, so 10 years older was neat. Especially hearing people give my "old" friend advice on what to expect as he approaches 30.) I had met, or at least seen, most of those people before at spoken-word events. I was still tired and hungover from the night at 'Flections, so I didn't do or say much. I just watched the fire and looked at some Heavy Metal magazines. The fire thing started messing my head up. It looked like a fire, it sounded like a fire, but my body was pissed-off to learn that it did not give off heat like a fire.

I wanted to do one of these survey thingies. So, I stole this from someone's archives.

1. KISSED YOUR COUSIN: yeah. We did more than that. It was a long time ago.
2. RAN AWAY: a few times, but I kept going back.
3. PICTURED YOUR CRUSH NAKED: of course, but it's hard. I don't have a great imagination.
4. ACTUALLY SEEN YOUR CRUSH NAKED: KC? yeah.
5. BROKEN SOMEONE'S HEART: a few times
6. BEEN IN LOVE: yes. I've also been in situations that were only mistaken for love.
7. CRIED WHEN SOMEONE DIED: someone related to me.
8. WANTED SOMEONE YOU KNEW YOU COULDN'T HAVE: I always want what I can't have.
9. BROKEN A BONE: my leg. a couple toes. the same toe twice.
10. DRANK ALCOHOL: seriously? scroll down
11. LIED: I'm a terrible liar. Only idiots actually fall for my lies. um, yes.
12. CRIED IN SCHOOL: I cried in chemistry class once in high school. In dal, I didn't cry, but during a calculus exam, I freaked out and chewed on my arm.

WHICH IS BETTER:
13. COKE OR PEPSI: pepsi
14. SPRITE OR 7UP: neither, 7up. Sprite gives me hiccups.
15. GIRLS OR GUYS: both. But mostly guys.
16. FLOWERS OR CANDY: I hate flowers. I love sugar.
17. SCRUFF OR CLEAN SHAVEN: I don't have hair on my face. On guys, I like clean shaven with a little scruff.
18. QUIET OR LOUD: one or the other. There's no in betweens.
19. BLONDES OR BRUNETTES: dark
20. BITCHY OR SLUTTY: me? or what I like? I am more bitchy than slutty, but lately I've been working on changing that.
21. TALL OR SHORT: taller than me, but not TOO tall
22. PANTS OR SHORTS: pants

WITH THE OPPOSITE SEX:
23. WHAT DO YOU NOTICE FIRST: clothes, hair, face, ass
24. LAST PERSON YOU SLOW DANCED WITH: my grandfather, at my mom's wedding. He's got skillz. He used to figure skate.
25. WORST THING THEY COULD DO: neglect me, especially sexually

THE LAST TIME:
26. SHOWERED: Wednesday evening
27. HAD SEX: December, upon returning from my travels
28. had a great time with the opposite sex: last night

WHAT IS:
29. YOUR GOOD LUCK CHARM: I don't believe in luck
30. PERSON YOU HATE MOST: hate's a harsh word. Certain people, certain bands
31. THE BEST THING THAT HAS HAPPENED TO YOU TODAY: I woke up with a headache. I remembered those hot kisses from last night. Coffee.

FAVORITES:
32. COLOR: the colours of bruises. Black, blue, yellow, green, purple...
33. MOVIE: I don't really have a "favourite" movie. Kill Bill
34. BOOK: Gertrude, Herman Hesse
35. SUBJECT IN SCHOOL: math, philosophy (in Dal)
36. JUICE: it varies. Right now, I don't even know. Orange usually hits the spot
37. CARS: I know nothing about cars. I like my mom's big-rig
38. ICE CREAM: mint chocolate chip
39. HOLIDAY: Halloween, I don't like any of the *real* holidays.
40. SEASON: fall
41. BREAKFAST FOOD: french toast, but I can't eat it too much
42. PLACE TO GO WITH YOUR HONEY: bed

WHO:
43. MAKES YOU LAUGH THE MOST: probably KC
44. MAKES YOU SMILE: anyone cute, unless they're too cute, and I'm too shy.
45. GIVES YOU A FUNNY FEELING WHEN YOU SEE THEM: not telling
46. HAS A CRUSH ON YOU: I have suspicions
47. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON: cute people
48. CAN MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER NO MATTER WHAT: KC
49. HAS IT EASIER GUYS OR GIRLS: I get what I want a lot. But I hate 1 week of every month

DO YOU EVER:
50. SIT BY THE PHONE WAITING FOR A PHONE CALL ALL NIGHT: in grade 10
51. SAVE AOL CONVERSATIONS: I don't have those
52. SAVE E-MAILS: sometimes. I save recent ones, and good ones.
53. WISH YOU WERE SOMEONE ELSE: sometimes, but not usually. Only when I hate myself
54. WISH YOU WERE A MEMBER OF THE OPPOSITE SEX: For 1 week of every month
55. CRY BECAUSE OF SOMEONE'S MEAN WORDS: I'm sensitive

BEST:
56. COLOGNE: yuck. That axe stuff is kinda hot. Especially for deodorant. Must be pheromones
57. PERFUME: yuck
58. KISS: last night. I didn't realize she was so hot.
59. ROMANTIC MEMORY: the night I got my ring
60. MOST RECENT ADVICE GIVEN TO YOU: whatever happens, I'll still be your friend

HAVE YOU:
61. Fallen for your best friend?: no.
62. Made out w/ JUST a friend?: yes. More than that, too.
63. Been rejected?: I got up the guts to approach someone only once. He shattered me and my ambitions
64. Been in love?: I already answered this
65. Been in lust?: of course
66. Used someone?: yeah, but it's been awhile
67. Been used?: people like to take advantage of me.
69. Been cheated on? no, but I've been a mistress a couple times
70. Been kissed?: yeah. I already told you about my BEST kiss.
71. Done something you regret?: All the time.

WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON:
72. You touched?: literally? KC. in that way? Crystal
73: You talked to: the carpenters at my apartment
74. You hugged?: KC
75. You instant messaged?: no-one
76. You kissed?: Emily
77. You had sex with?: KC
78. You yelled at? probably someone at the Seahorse on Saturday
79. You laughed with?: people at Reflections last night
80. Who broke your heart?: that one guy I asked out. I'm the one that breaks the hearts.
81. Who told you they loved you?: KC

DO YOU:
82. Color your hair?: way too much
83. Have tattoos?: 4
84. Have piercings?: 9
85. Have a boyfriend/girlfriend/both?: yes

I hate myself. I'm an ass. I make a fool out of myself. I have no regard for anyone else. And then, I barely remember anything. I'm stupid, lazy, pathetic; I should be ashamed...

I could go on like that forever. It's really easy for me to beat myself up. In fact, it's probably one of the things I'm best at. But what's the point of it? It doesn't help. It just makes things worse. No, instead of yelling at myself and going in circles, I think it's about time I look at it. Why do I do it? Why do I promise to control myself, only to not even try? If I'm not in control of my life, then what is? Who am I really?

I am a women in her mid-twenties. I am sweet and shy, with a slightly twisted sense of humour. I am sensitive and emotional and I care about others too much-except for the times I am selfish. I enjoy time to myself sometimes, to relax, but I never really like being alone. I'm smart, but I'm burnt-out and have issues with my memory. I am a social misfit who never had many friends growing up, but the ones I had where as close as family. I am an only child. Born to an alcoholic (a depressed, pessimistic, cynical drunk) and a neurotic, delusional, pathologically lying enabler. I've always preferred animals to humans. I look better with my clothes on. I make as few decisions as I can get away with. Sometimes I think too much, or do anything too much. I have trouble saying no. I don't know when to stop. I take things too far. Whether it's a joke or taking another drink or kissing someone goodbye, or going on and on about it.

Or licking a nipple. What was I thinking? Of course he didn't want me doing that. He tried to back away and keep playing the show. Oh, that's right. I wasn't thinking. I was drinking.

Someone on Saturday said I seemed "coke-y." I've never touched the stuff , but I can see what he was saying. I was fidgety, eyes darting, and just behaving sketchily.

I felt the way I did because I was there by myself, and only on my first beer. I can't talk to people, or make eye contact, so I drink.

My throat hurts. I did some screaming last night...

...no, I did NOT get loaded, get kicked out of the Marquee, and stand outside screaming.
I contributed some vocals to the Hold album.

I'm not mixing.
That'll be later.
I AM with the Ling-lore.
Good times.

There's a trend in this city lately.
It involves venues closing down (whatever the reason) 2 days before my band is scheduled to play.
If I wasn't going to be listening to myself while others mixed tonight, I'd be sadder.
I am sad.

Yes, I headlined my first show ever.

So, if you know anything about Halifax, you know that the venue where I was supposed to play tomorrow is now closed. So we don't have a show. I, instead, will be going to a friend's place to trade clothes. I might go to the Seahorse later. I know I'll be bored--I always am--and I like the McFaddens. (Edit-I don't want this taken the wrong way. It's not like certain places or people bore me. Boredom is a personality trait of mine.)

So I don't know when we'll play another all-ages show.

But, there is some good news. We recorded with J Melanson.

J was the first person I ever spit on. It was Groundhog Day, 2002, at the Mokka; my first time on stage.

Briefs
Head Injury Convention
McFaddens
This Life Sucks
The Dumps

For some reason, it was a big deal that it was our first show. So, even though we weren't ready for the stage, and were drunk/nervous as hell, we headlined in tank tops and boys' underwear. Mine were black, size small, with a black lace tank and thigh-highs.

Looking out from the stage, I saw a wall of boys. I was shaking. During the set, I realized that we were statues; no one was performing. So during "Ass" (our song about sex in a BK bathrrom) I tilted my head back and spit. I didn't know that in the end, I'd be spitting on someone who was going to record me.

Later, I don't remember if it was later that night, or later in life, J and I were introduced. He mentioned me spitting on him.

"Oh, that hit you? Sorry."

Thngs in my fridge:

-rotten alfalfa sprouts
-Farmer's 20/80 spread
-2 eggs in an otherwise empty carton
-Brita filter pitcher, with some water inside
-Little bit of Pepsi
-some white wine someone brought over on New Year's (it would be gone by now, if I liked white wine)
-Farmer's blend, for coffee
-empty Bavaria 6-pack
-ketchup
-mustard
-mayo
-pickled beets
-PC table syrup
-soya sauce
-oyster sauce
-VH szechwan stir-fry sauce
-8 cheese slices, from a package of 12

I really think you broke my ass-bone

Remeber that? Privateer Days, 2003. It wasn't quite as fun as the year before, but it was still good. I especially enjoyed seeing your pretty boyfriend in Liverhole for the first time. How did I get that wasted? I must've been somewhere before going to the beer tent. Oh, I was. I think I was at Mike Murf's place.

Beer tent 2002 was one of the best times I've ever had. You and me, slow dancing and grinding on the dirt dance-floor. The rednecks hated us; they thought we were queer, and that bothered them. Meanwhile, a special someone pulled his cock out under the table and pissed all over the dirt, with dirts sitting right next to him. "Hey, bub, you smell something, bub? Fight t'night." Then we did fight, outside. Ali gave you that black eye.

But beer tent 2003 had it's moments, too. Like watching Trooper dancing to some band. Were they a local band? Were they a cover band? Who cares? I forget their name.

Outside, you, me, and our boyfriends played on the swing-set and teeter-totter. My ass hit the ground, hard, a couple times. I couldn't walk right for about a month after. You felt bad seeing me still in pain so much later. Maybe I should've gotten it checked-out. But it didn't matter.

Well, now winter's here. When the weather is cold, or when the pressure lowers as precipitation comes, my coccyx aches.

I forgive you. I did ages ago. I never blamed you. But, ow.

I feel like I should talk about the time I tried to get help.
I was 17.
I was living in Bedford.
I had been cutting myself for a couple of years.
I also liked to drink, smoke stuff, and take acid.
I had recently realized that I liked taking things up my nose.
But it was only speed, mesc, or acid.

I thought about suicide alot.
But I didn't want to kill myself.
I hated people that killed themselves.
I thought it was so selfish.
No matter what they believed themselves,
Somebody loved them.
So in ending their pain, they hurt someone else.
And I hated that.

But then I understood.
I realized that only certain people will ever understand the kind of things I've gone through.
If you've never actually felt it, you can only understand to a certain degree.
I found my way to a doctor.
Because I was 17, they wouldn't let me see a doctor for adults.
I saw a consellor.
She showed me pictures of freaky children, socially, and
Talked to me about self-esteem.

Sure, I had terrible self-esteem.
Who didn't in the 90's?
I still do to some degree.
But I've accepted me.
There are things I don't like.
But they are a part of me.