Merry Fucking Christmas
Just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas. oh yeah. Mine's not all that fucking merry either. Let me tell ya. I'm really discouraged about what I'm trying to do with promiseofnobodyfuckinggoestherelight. I don't know. I'm broke. Cry me a fucking river I know. Everybody's broke. Yeah. I know that fucking too. I have to get this out. It's ripping out of me. Like that fucking thing on Alien. more like tiny butterflies with sharp claws and teeth, tearing. I try. I try. But. But what. Fuck I don't know. the next line. the next sentence. run on. fragment. fragmental state of being. I am seeing the letters pour from my fingertips but still it means nothing. it flows like ice melting. abrubtly stopping for no reason other than it's over now.
posted by Sir James Eric Watkins at 9:43 PM
12 Comments:
First of all Merry Fucking Christmas is just funny. But I am sorry that you are down and that money is a problem. When I went to art class, a student made this huge silkscreen thing that looked like a dollar bill, except old George had a bloody axe in his head and blood was spurting out all over. When asked to explain her work to the class she said the piece was entitled "Fuck Money" she said she hated how the lack of money controlled her friends lives. So I guess I feel about the same way right now reading your post.
I like how you blur the line between writing a post and poetry. I would never think to write that way. It's like taking a sharpee and drawing on a photograph.
Do your best to have some fun, please.
take yourself back for a moment to a time when there was no electricity and people eked out an existence in the cold dark winter and remind yourself of the gathering of light and family and friends and the inner warmth thus created and how none of it depends on money or jesus for that matter and have yerself a merry little christmas. Happy Solstice brother, we all worship the Sun!
rain thank you for the sympathy and compliment. I just get tired of the crap I'm seeing myself write, and, well, it just comes out, like a free-write. Thanks. And I will-have some fun.
dave. I know all too well that what you say is true. And really this post wasn't intended to bitch about money or the lack of it, just to let it out. I shifted it another way, so I wouldn't have to look at all the crap I wrote, for I know exactly how fortunate we all are. All of us.
But I indeed thank you for your wisdom and caring. I needed it, my friend.
Happy Solstice. indeed. "we all worship the sun."
I can sooo relate to your post! Bah humbug and Merry fuckin Christmas. I'm broke as hell too! The only one I'm buying for this year is my kid. I really can't even afford to buy for him.
I hate the way Christmas is so commercialized. If you can't buy things for everyone, ya just feel like shit.
I hear, "You don't have to buy anything, just make them something...bake them some cookies". Fuck you. I'm not crafty and I can't cook and I'd have to buy that shit too.
Whewww. I'm glad I got that out.
Truly, I'm greatful for my family and what I have. I'm certainly better off than most.
Merry Christmas my friend, from me and mine to you and yours. I know things will get better.
That's it; Humor the crazy man. That ought to shuteam up for a while.
I love you too.
thanks for letting me know. I appreciate it. I really do.
becky boo. Christmas fu-e-fu. I agree. It's way too commercialized. thanks friend. It will-it'll get better, for all of us.
Or, if it doesn't we can hold bitch sessions like this one. And let it all out. And then actually look at how lucky we really are.
This Christmas has a prevailing air of, I don't know, surrealism?
Like it's not meant to be happening now, like the days keep ticking on and it draws near but nothing is getting done to make it a reality, so it remains in the surrealistic heap of something that will be, but wont ever reach it's full potential.
Like I want to cancel it this year and go on. Declair Christams a toilet bowel of dissaster, and scrawel R. Mutt on it and call it dada.
I want to say, stop the world and let my damned mouth heal up before anything else has to be done.
Before grades go in, and kids get toys and I go visit my poor lonely dad, and I have to try and scrape together a Christmas for this motley crew I call mine.
All I want for Christmas is enough pain pills to get me through the ache in my face, to the other side of manageable pain.
I want my tongue back to normal, and not feeling like it's an inch thick and bullett proof, cause I know when it does come to, it is gonna feel just like minced fucking meat, cause I've been biting the shit out of it at every opportunity.
I feel ya hon, I do.
Now can we keep this little rant of mine our secret? Because I normally try to pretend like everything's coming up fucking roses?
love, Lori
Lori,
I'm sorry your in pain my friend.
And not to worry, I won't blow your cheerful cover. Shhhhh...it is our secret.
My lips . . . .
See I somehow knew you would.
Cause you get me.
And I get you.
I like it when it clicks like that.
Oh and I've been thinking, all that I seemed to want when I wrote the above was for me.
My poo nanny wish list.
I was really suckin' last night.
It happens when I'm focused on the pain.
I'm sorry James, I really want more for the universe than just my selfish concerns met.
But as an after thought, maybe they could be met too.
I'm babbling again in your box, I do that a lot.
I'm just not ready to celebrate much right now. I am awash in my own shame of it too.
"I like it when it clicks like that." Me too.
Because I do indeed get you, I highly doubt that your concerns are of a selfish nature.
Babble here all you want, dear lady.
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