pg. #1112, second column...

Verbiage.

ver'bi.age:
Use of many words without necessity, or with little sense; verbosity; wordiness.
--SYN. See Redundancy...

that sounds about right...4 gin and tonics, half a beer, and some creepy coffee/vodka concoction later...Verbiage...


FIN

booty is for pirates...

sometimes finding a way to NOT sneeze is necessary...

i had been reading...'date my mom' was on the tv...my feet were probing the open air at the bottom of the bed--perfectly cool and not clammy or too hot...i don't normally probe with my feet...i don't normally do anything with them wiggly or noticable in any way...this is so i can remain happily unaware of them even existing...this is why i hate when they are too hot or possibly, and at worst, clammy...i don't like feet...not even my own...

but this is getting away from me...

i've been this way all day...full of tangents and happy to take you on one...

this all seems terribly peaceful doesn't it...the book, the background reality tv show with horrifying pre-mapped dialogue, the wonderfully tepid toes....definately not the environment for a big sneeze..an epic sneeze...a sneeze that results in a sound that falls somewhere in the realm of a hot air balloon full of jewish women falling out of the sky ..

well, i had to..and i underestimated the calamity....and i did it...i sneezed...

and UP sprung my sleeping companion...
the following is the ensuing conversation:

her: OH MY GOD! OH FUCK! PATRICK HENRY! I FUCKING TOLD YOU!
me: WHAT? WHAT? what the...who's patrick henry?
her: ITS SO OBVIOUS HE'S THE ONE THAT DUG THE HOLE IN THE YARD..AND THE...AND THE WATER'S FILLING IT UP FROM GINA'S HOUSE. (gina is our neighbor...patrick henry is still a mystery)
me: does gina know about this?
her: SHE KNOWS HE HAS A SECRET PHONE LINE...AND...SHE KNOWS ABOUT THE HOLE BUT...
me: should i call tomorrow and have the line shut off?
her: HE'S BEEN CALLING FROM THE BASEMENT FOR MONTHS...PATRICK HENRY CAME UNDER THE FENCE AND FILLED UP THE HOLE...
me: so patrick henry is made of water? when did he dig the hole?
her: WELL OBVIOUSLY HE DUG IT LAST NIGHT!
me: he dug the hole last night while we were in the house..?...how clever...
her: OBVIOUSLY HE DUG IT TONIGHT! I CAN'T WAIT FOR YOU TO MEET HIM! HE'S IN ON IT! HE'S...FILLING WITH WATER....

and with that she began mumbling and i lost out on the rest of the patrick henry story...how did he get a secret phone line..? did he dig it last night or was it in fact tonight...? she was sitting straight up in bed for the first few sentences...and the rest, while she did keep shouting at me, she did from a 'sleeping kitten' position...it was all terribly confusing...and i love the sleeping mind...but sometimes the land of the 'awake' has no business getting involved...

now had i never sneezed i never would have known the interesting story of patrick henry, true...but even now, as i'm sitting in the front room of the house typing this, i'm curious, and concerned about this mysterious man that lives somewhere beneath me..in a basement i know i've never seen....with his secret phone calls, and his ability to slide beneath fences as if he's made out of liquid...and try as i might--i can't find the damn hole in the yard...the whole thing's got me in knots...

had i never sneezed...

she claims a 'lack of inspiration'....

Preface:
when claiming to be my own worst enemy i am in no way overdramatizing the situation...it is not an attempt at the most cliche of excuses...it is merely an understanding of myself, that goes beyond your understanding of me...your lack of understanding is in no way your fault...its just set up that way...oh...and the veil of 'love' makes it much, much harder to truly understand the imperfections of the thing right in front of you...

Body:
i cannot justify what i have done, this does not however erase the fact that there are terribly certifiable reasons for my actions (and by actions i mean--being a completely untrustworthy bastard)....however, you won't like a single one of these reasons....you will ask me for them or maybe at moments i will feel compelled to give them to you (refer to: understanding and the desire to have it), but these things will only make a bad situation much worse...(refer to: aforementioned 'veil of love' and all previous knowledge of relationships between people, having gone sour or not)...things like this are scary and as humans we are fully capable of removing every bit of what we know as reality, sanity, and all similes from the situation...i.e. the ability to transform words like, 'i'm sorry' or 'how about sushi' into 'i can't wait until you fall asleep tonight so i can sneak out and engage in multiple sexual relations mostly involving your best friends'...

Afterthoughts:
sabotaging this relationship, via this course of action, may be one my major regrets in life...the post.shower regimen you have is my favorite post.shower regimen of all time...i think i would miss you even if i had never met you...your hands are very small, and your feet very pointed--this will always fascinate me...cooking meals with you is always a lot of fun...you're my favorite person to talk to about life...

Mission:
growth...

Vehicle:
trial and error...

loops and misgivings...

i was riding my bike home from work today...Devotchka was playing in the tiny ear buds shoved, rather uncomfortably into my tiny ear holes...and i came upon this girl...now i've been trying to better my age guessing techniques by practicing at restaurants and such...i'm hoping there's some improvement...when i say, she looked to be about 11, although it doesn't matter, i want it to be spot on...she had this construction paper bunny, pink and green, our eleven year old...and with both hands she was holding the construction paper bunny's ears and most of his head against the chain link fence beside her...the girl was running, maniacally cackling, and dragging poor paper bunny through an awful metal gauntlet...almost a disturbing sight actually...so i started to wonder, what does she do to cat's when no one's looking...what if this were a real bunny, would her rage be even more exposed...i imagined she was that girl we all knew when we were eleven..the one that always pinched you on the school bus, and thought spitting when she laughed was hilarious, and her laugh was awful and loud and shrill as hell...but maybe it wasn't the bunny at all, not directly...maybe she hates construction paper..or crafts..or paper of any kind really, and she spends her nights huddled in her room chewing at envelopes and things with Current Occupant on them...or perhaps she hates the color pink...maybe she hates the gender specific way her teacher forces things on her...pink for girls...bunnies for girls...aggression and video games NOT for girls...or perhaps because its nearing Easter someone actually made that for her, but it's someone she hates...or she never learned the right way to love and by fouling up the bunnies face on a chain link fence she feels affection for the person...i don't know...i wish i did...but to stop an eleven year old on her way home, when you're smoking a cigarette and twenty-three in cut-off old man pants just might seem like an intrusion...