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9:55 p.m. - 2009-04-13
i don't babble to fill the air with words
brian jonestown massacre played sat, but i'm poor.

so we went to cks to see my lovely friend Jasper, to give him bad news, to which he quietly replied "well, i'm sure you saw that coming"

but he says it the way he says it, and the words glowed with that stinging soft truth.

cks had a terrible poisonous odor. and then we saw an army of rats scurrying in the kitchen area.

i love that place. but, with that. and my additional rat poison headache. ah so.

i was holding a black song bird at work today. the dr was about to clip its insanely long nails. the owner came in from outside the exam room, slinging the door wide open, smiling manically and saying quite loudly, "you're doing it now?! you're doing it now?!" (um, close the door so you're bird doesn't fly away, thanks)

and as the dr proceeded to clip the nails, the woman started to scream and wail and cry, "NOOO! YOU'LL KILL HIM! YOU'LL HURT HIM! YOU'RE HURTING HIM! STOP IT! DON'T DO THAT! HE'S HURT! HE'S IN PAIN! YOU'RE KILLING HIM! I LOVE HIM, I LOVE HIM!!!! (ETC).." and pushed the dr's hand away as she began to clip, covering her face, pulling at her own hair, clawing at her own face.

this same strange mania continued for about two minutes. insanity. certified craziness, just reminds me of that grip that people lose on life, the slime of things not being just so for the brain.

what the hell would this woman do in a real catastrophe?

I just smiled the whole time. ran out of the room when we were done, as the dr's hands shook. as i burst into a nervous giggle right outside the door. really, truly, out of frustration for that woman crying out for help. yet she only succeeded in creating a fear in us for our lives.

i wish i had that endurance to scream so desperately for help. she was asking the wrong people, of course. if she had walked up to me at a coffee shop, i sure as hell would have tried to help her. but to scream at me while i'm holding your delicate bird. SHE was that delicate bird. save her, save her, she's dying, she loves herself, she needs help, she's a caged bird with wings, but, here, she's in your hands!

ridiculous. brilliant, yet fucked up.

i do know how she feels. it's about caring too much, being so out of control, but just trying to do the right thing. however, not really sure what the right thing is, doing what SEEMS right.

but she's mentally, permanently past the line i've drawn for myself.

and she surely drove home victorious.

she created art through real life, through a real moment, with real people at their real means of survival.

when she dies, she will be a brilliant ghost. i think she will master manipulating time, people's time, life's time. time that doesn't really exist anymore, but it will need to, so she can fix the things she couldn't when time was real but wouldn't let her be.

hot damn, i'm being conditioned. if life is being good? well, then...fuck me.


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