heart broken
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TragicPixie
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mccutcheon
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Guest
Jake, after Tara died my mom rang me and told me to make sure I watch funny movies. I mean she meant well. And I will say, it might not help, but it can't hurt either. I would say watch the BCC TV show the Office, go rent it. It is so fucking funny.
Anyway this past week I've been watching lots of Sienfeld on DVD because I need things funny that have no drugs or drinking in them. And I was reading a magazine and David Brent AKA Ricky Gervais had this to say:
"Jason Alexander as George Costanza is the greatest sitcom character of all time. He carries around a picture of his 'dead wife' because he thinks it will make girls like him"
Anyway this past week I've been watching lots of Sienfeld on DVD because I need things funny that have no drugs or drinking in them. And I was reading a magazine and David Brent AKA Ricky Gervais had this to say:
"Jason Alexander as George Costanza is the greatest sitcom character of all time. He carries around a picture of his 'dead wife' because he thinks it will make girls like him"
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mccutcheon
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SHHIIIIIT
mother fuckin' log in. Do I have too many posts? Is that why I can't log in?
quote from Graham Greene's "The End of the Love Affair"
--Looking at her over my whisky, I thought how odd it was that I felt no desire for her at all. It was as if quite suddenly after all the promiscuous years I had grown up. My passion for Sarah had killed simple lust for ever. Never again would I be able to enjoy a woman without love.
end.
--Looking at her over my whisky, I thought how odd it was that I felt no desire for her at all. It was as if quite suddenly after all the promiscuous years I had grown up. My passion for Sarah had killed simple lust for ever. Never again would I be able to enjoy a woman without love.
end.
Last edited by bfj on Thu Dec 02, 2004 4:04 am, edited 1 time in total.
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mccutcheon
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sara
in a word -- Elf
maybe I should explain that from time to time I have real shit taste in movies.
In two words, Uncle Buck -- this is the movie to watch -- the scene when he tells the principal that he'd like to have a rat take off the mole or something like that it's great. It makes me feel good for all the Maisies of the world
maybe I should explain that from time to time I have real shit taste in movies.
In two words, Uncle Buck -- this is the movie to watch -- the scene when he tells the principal that he'd like to have a rat take off the mole or something like that it's great. It makes me feel good for all the Maisies of the world
...and i told them," you don't understand. you see she was everything. all love constant and forever burning" but those that could, to some degree, advised me against my own heart. and they told me,"don't destroy whatever she has found, not with your words, your poison, perhaps you are something but it hasn't shown. you who impregnates without justification, you who sinks seven degrees below sweaty sheets." but i couldn't just let this go. all i have are two weekends of memories-- spilling cereal on the floor rushing out the door and frustrated child oh child oh beauty and dressed up for me the second time so hard, so hard, we try to impress and hand pressed against breast lay longitudes to the mighty, to the innocent, to the pure.
so then all this laid against me when I slept in stupor in darkness rambling about the place looking for a light switch or friend for support and then all ways reverting to her when the dreaming ended. Who do you wake with on your lips, on any given day and that morning was stung with urine and you'd finally become something you weren't, all the little bit happier...and for you those memories continued for years and for her "they slipped though her hands like grains of sand." so like anything else two realities collide. and maybe you didn't do your part and maybe she did hers dutifully but was it enough, yes, were you enough, perhaps not.
and so it came swiftly like the blade against the bare throat, without a sound, without a murmur, not like those videos you'd seen. you were cut free. and choking perhaps, with births all around and your own slips against the slipping friction of two at ten for pure amusement against those that kept you down.
but back to burning polish vodka, stinging vomiting wife and where you went, into depths so unchartered. so primitive, so unexpected by everyone but you and stripping, stripping away a piece of yourself against the hour.
and I told them and they couldn't quite understand. and I showed them the text and they asked what I could do. and I told them what I could do, and what I prepared to do, but was waiting until my head was all straightened out because everyone tells me I'm running crooked and off cliffs... but they advised me. if you really cared for her happiness, and i do, you would leave her be.
"if it was meant to be, then it will come back."
stretch our love against eternity see it's constant beating against the heart.
pray you girl against a god that doesn't exist, your happiness, you love, your quick streaming movements in the bed and recoiling from it, and confessions of your sickness and everything and nothing against your mother -- we should all be so tragic...
well
some of us our today,
will speak to you again... i know...
so then all this laid against me when I slept in stupor in darkness rambling about the place looking for a light switch or friend for support and then all ways reverting to her when the dreaming ended. Who do you wake with on your lips, on any given day and that morning was stung with urine and you'd finally become something you weren't, all the little bit happier...and for you those memories continued for years and for her "they slipped though her hands like grains of sand." so like anything else two realities collide. and maybe you didn't do your part and maybe she did hers dutifully but was it enough, yes, were you enough, perhaps not.
and so it came swiftly like the blade against the bare throat, without a sound, without a murmur, not like those videos you'd seen. you were cut free. and choking perhaps, with births all around and your own slips against the slipping friction of two at ten for pure amusement against those that kept you down.
but back to burning polish vodka, stinging vomiting wife and where you went, into depths so unchartered. so primitive, so unexpected by everyone but you and stripping, stripping away a piece of yourself against the hour.
and I told them and they couldn't quite understand. and I showed them the text and they asked what I could do. and I told them what I could do, and what I prepared to do, but was waiting until my head was all straightened out because everyone tells me I'm running crooked and off cliffs... but they advised me. if you really cared for her happiness, and i do, you would leave her be.
"if it was meant to be, then it will come back."
stretch our love against eternity see it's constant beating against the heart.
pray you girl against a god that doesn't exist, your happiness, you love, your quick streaming movements in the bed and recoiling from it, and confessions of your sickness and everything and nothing against your mother -- we should all be so tragic...
well
some of us our today,
will speak to you again... i know...