Life Sucks Yeah Yeah...

Follow the Pink Floyd tune along. I have limited time at the computer this week as yes the bug guy is spraying for bed bugs today. I caught one and it really was one. It was on the wall waiting to glom onto my pillow. I only was bit at the Hood Canal which my boyfriend at that time told me the bites looked like bed bug bites. So after throwing away bags of stuff vacuuming I narrowed it down to yes either the worst birthday weekend ever (at the free cabin at the Hood Canal) or close to it excluding the beauty of the Hood Canal and the incredible Mexican Food and tequila shot. I either brought home a bed bug from there or after going through that section of my closet that had luggage and purses there was a gross purple newspaper bag type of bag, that I loved. Aaron gave it to me a long time ago, he got it at a thrift store, which you guessed it are being overrun by bed bugs. One of the saddest parts is I had one of those great old gray suitcases with shiny silver brackets on the edges that used to belong to my dad. It was full and all of a sudden the mystery of where my great sexy summer clothes that I loved - orange off the shoulder light sweater, black halter, etc. etc. etc. and some regular clothes I really liked were in that suitcase. I opened it outside and the impact forced a bug loose. Squish. And bag up the suitcase and take to the trash. Even sentimentality can't stay considering the cost of getting rid of these critters. Which is money I don't have and had to get. Ugh. Fortunately I got. Fortunately I had a way to get. So have been spending evenings dryin (heat kills) washing in hot water and drying again. Bagging those clothes up so I know what I have washed. Throwing out anything that looked remotely suspicious. The mattress set was gone on Sunday. After a night of no sleep going back and forth from the kitchen table to the love seat I called a friend at the bottom of the hill. She is so great she is like pack a bag bring it over, I said no - that is how they travel. I just seriously need a bed so have been cleaning (and it was already pretty clean) at night then shower put on my nightgown and clean clothes fresh out of the dryer and go crash at her place. Get up come home go to work. Yesterday the loveseat and bedframe were taking to the dump thanks to my ex's Guy and Aaron. Now I am still washing/drying clothes waiting for the bug guy. I can't find my vaccuum bags, I don't remember using them all, but the vacuum bag store - seriously you wouldn't think Eureka upright bags would be hard to find but I have to go to a special vacuum store for them....Because I used my last one last night. Borrowed Aaron's vaccum to finish up and now am waiting for the bug guy. Checkbook in hand. yeah yeah...

Intuition

Greenberg was bad. Horrible. A waste of 3 hours of my life. I want to go to that director or even theater owner and demand my 3 hours back. If I had trusted my intuition I would have stayed in and watched 6 Feet Under - season 3. As it is I came home and had to watch it to try and remove the incredible stench of a movie I had just saw. Seriously it isn't even forgettable because it was so bad. It was what I tend to do in a poem before edited... 45 -50 minutes of throat clearing, - that is where the poetry similarity ends, it had no character development, and was oh my god just so incredibly stupid. I wanted to leave, but I had driven and my friend wanted to stay. I was trying to check the time to see if I could go to the movie Kick Ass which is you know forgettable, but entertaining. And hey I don't mind fluff. Don't get me wrong, I like the so called intelligent movies/independents, but this was just bad. I think the reviewers who all the different ones raved about it, must have been bribed, because they certainly could not have watched it without walking out on it. The audience was notably disappointed, GIVE US ALL OUR 3 HOURS BACK!!!! (3 hours because I included drive time)

Argh

Some people really have no concept how to raise their children!!!!!

an egg
broke hard
yellow goodness spills out
shit sack gone
brown shell remains
cracked and hollow

I don't know what to do with myself on Saturday nights. And the Cymbalta commercial about depression on a night of bad TV programming isn't helping. Breaking out a library book.

Still working these:

Life/death
men with swords aside our Lord
above one stands ready at the guard
a few alongside in prayer
while a three headed woman
captive in the stocks
stays at his feet
eyes cast low to not shed her evil
on the master

who do I pray to now?




---------------------------------------


wet bricks told of the night rains
walls up high dried by the sun
only fifteen feet away, I hope I don't slip
only fifteen feet to what?
walls to high to scale
a bench by the passageway
even the guards need rest
no one in sight,
perhaps they lay in wait
in the recessed shadows
just ten more feet
perhaps I'll make it this time
perhaps not

Sad now.