How the Fuck is one to get up on it?

There is a great hip hop song in which it is cried "why do i need i.d. to get i.d.?

I have always loved that lyric. And today...after running errands and providing financial information to everyone who has asked; I am done with the bureaucratic beings that exist to torment me. If I had everything to give to make it all better I would. If I had the $ I would make the payment, and your fucking processing fee does not make it any easier to make the payment.

So let it rain and let my car be in the shop another week and I will make green tomato salsa and forget that the world is out there. Its better that way.

Grey Morning

I picked green tomatoes off the vine this morning with my hood on.

And jalapenos.

an argument for a slower pace

so i read in the times earlier this morning that the united states postal service is close to bankruptcy and is grasping at all straws to make payments and payroll and pension benefits.

so.

write a letter and mail it!

use the service.

wait for a week for information to travel.

think about what you have to say before you say it.

use a pen.

address an envelope.

say thank you to the person behind the counter as you mail your letter.

haunting my dreams

i fell asleep reading...

and i awoke hours later. reeling from dreams of her eyes, big and dark, smiling at me.

my cunt dripping for her. and she doesn't even know it yet.

pete rock all day!

making pesto with pine nuts... so luxurious.

in black lace underpants.

pussy wet.

and pesto....

daily routine?

times headlines

ten pound weights

nike training club

tea cup on the porch

email

blog

instagram

rice for breakfast and walk in the rain

write

eventually i will have to go to work

gay lit for a bedtime story

instrumental means no talking

a politically savvy persona is necessary to walk with my head held high. hard in this mess of an economy. tax payments and pissed off landlords. i try to make it all fit. move my furniture, rearrange my soul, plant a garden with a 4 year old.

all the while wondering what i will find in the dirt...

so i sit with a coffee and a plan in my brain that never quite reaches my feet. i dream of dancing in sand and loving with all of my heart. make things with my hands and come all over my bedspread.

it is easy to live a life full of everything. exhausted and full of contradictions i walk through the neighborhood late at night with my neck thrown back. my eyes searching for stars.

and then they ask me of the my ink. what does it mean. who are you?

it is mine and i don't have to answer. i watch the blue flicker of a tv screen through her windows and wonder what kind of lover she would be.

then i slip my hands over my thighs into my wet, waiting pussy and fall asleep to dream of accomplishment.

in the morning. the sun sneaks under the drawn shades and i listen to pete rock to make the day move.