subtlemethod’s posterous

i need my own reality show.
no, seriously.
if mtv rewards teen mothers with a show, then i fucking deserve a show.
hey, i fucking did my time. graduated from university, got a job.
i am a teacher in las vegas and i enjoy the spirits. what more than you need.
an episode, you might ask?
well, it would follow a week in my life. it might even start out by listing goals i have,
or things i want to do.
then, it would start with my early wake up on monday morning and we carry on from there.
i'm talking, poop haikus, ridiculous days with the babies, home, work with PH and, oh,
then, it gets amusing. the number of inside jokes we currently have running would take
translation. thus, scene of us in sunrise coffee, having a seeminly nonsensical conversation
interspersed with the number of internet videos that we have stolen them from.
"i loooooooove coming to las vegas because there are never any smaaaaart people!"
"i loooooooove coming to unlv because there are never any mmmfrrfff people!"
"gukki by gucci!"
"yaaaaaaaay!"
...
silence.
"man, i really want to go to donalds pizza kitchen."
"iiiiiiiiiii know how to read and write, i just don't LIKE to read and write."
never mind the fact that mandy-isms would catch on like wild fire.
clown shoes.  fucktards. cuntish. filth wizards.
can you see it now?
ohhhhhhhh, and all the cameo appearances:
a special memorial day episode with LE,
thanksgiving with SE,
valentines day with JL,
the silent passive aggressiveness of the filth wizard JC,
liasons via internet with MG et al.
how could you NOOOOOT want this show?
and, of course, the cute animal- willie pug pug.

anyway.
>:-o

fugging morons

tonight was one of those nights when it's raining and cold and you're tired.
one of those nights when it would have been nice to have someone to chill with.
...ugh.

Click here to download:

01. Meet Me At The Equinox - Death Cab For Cutie - Meet Me At The Equinox - Death Cab For Cutie.mp3 (7389 KB)

hearing death cab for cutie is like stepping into a time machine for me. it takes me back to university,
running barefoot through the wet grass of the mall, slipping into the fountain, laying on hot pavement, philosophizing, riding bikes down big hills...
i feel these things and they ache through the stereo, reverberating after the song itself is over.
i miss... i don't know what i miss. i get older, and i realize slowly that nothing changes, not really.
I am the variable. I am the ever changing thing.
I think what is irritating about this whole JC situation is not his behavior. You cannot change other people. They operate of their own designs, and are not easily moved.
No, that's not what I am upset about. I'm upset that I put up with so much. I feel like a battered woman. Obviousy, I've called it quits on this toxic arrangement, but not without feeling as though I have lost a great deal of self respect.
Time to start the recovery.
Step 1: Find a new apartment.

i don't write enough, anymore. been reading more, though, so i suppose that's prime.
well. let me break it down.
succinctly.
my life since september. we'll do september. the start of the new year really.
uh, good start with the babies. bad start with the apartment. JC is a douche,
90% of the time. i'm not sure what deep seated, kitten killing issues lie there.
more random dating.
met MG. i'm glad i approached this situation with healthy skepticism.
didn't tell the crew about this character, but even this caution could not prevent,
yet again, a fucked situation in which i pull the short straw. we added number 5
and we move on. my record worsens by the day.
saw new moon today with PH. some points:

• uh, bella? why are you screaming?  who has screamy nightmares? and why the fuck would your father not put your ass into severe psychotherapy if this shit happening nightly? instead, papa swann decides that shopping is what his seventeen year old daughter needs to feel better. i call this irresponsible parenting. get your shit together.
• i like strong female characters. therefore, i do not like bella.
• dakota fanning is a crazy ass bitch.
  
• directorman? why do i need a close up of everyone's face? showing me edward's pores doesn't instill in me a sense of wonder. it does not make me feel for the characters. i was hoping that the screenwriters could take some of meyerson's awful writing and give me some realistic behavior and dialogue. apparently not. nope. i checked- still wooden and untrue to life.
• i don't give a fuck if the wolf pack are hella young, i would grow a pedistache and hit it, hit it like i couldn't miss. omfg, shoulders. these boys have shoulders.
• why is jacob always shirtless?
• nice soundtrack. shoulda put some of that effort into a script.
  
• please bitch, stop whining about how everyone is prettier than you. this one actually comes more from my perusal of breaking dawn than anything else. uh, literally every other paragraph is some variation of "this vampire was so beautiful, i felt like i was going to throw up." dear ms. meyerson- in college, they teach us about showing, not telling. i get it- vampires are pretty. what's disturbing is that you mention it so much, i get the sense part of the reason bella wants to be one is because she's a fucked up girl with low self esteem. like some of your readers. are we sending young women the right messages? plainly put, no.

yes, fuck you, i hate that saying, along with the accompanying movie and book of the same name.
this is the truth:
this kid, m, is not that into me.
which, in some ways, is a good thing. it has helped me own the fact that i do, in fact, want to be in a relationship.
you know, the kind of "oh, you're sick or sad and you want to see me to feel better" type of connection that you have with someone
the kind of "let's hang out, not because there's a reason, but just because we fucking can" thing
the kind of "let's go to the park and read books on a sunday" thing
no, this is not that kind of thing
this is the kind of "i hear from you once a week and it's fun, and you're fun, and we fuck" type of thing.
                   this is not what i want.
                                                this is not the kind of person i am.
                                                                                            but, fuck, it's vegas and i'll take what i can get.

you always have a choice
but making choices is the
hardest part of growing up.
rather, making the right choices.
and i don't think i can say
i've made many of those.
not at all, no. i don't think
i can say, remembering
the choice to help your hand
along the upper part of the skin
of my thigh, no, i don't believe
i have made many of those.

so, this is the part where i move toward you,
chin up, eyes down.
oh, and this is the part where you've got me.
and this next part is me finding out about you,
conversations over dinner, and the part after
that is in bed, on a couch, pushing skin
together. and this is the part where i can't
shut up or stop thinking. and this is the
part where something inside me isn't for
you. so, is this the part where i never see
you again?

i have felt, as of late, that i am slowly drifting to the center of a pond in which there will be no one around me
in other words, my friendships are slowly moving away from me
i wonder- am i a bad friend?
i just feel like i make the effort. i call, i send birthday gifts, i throw birthday parties,
i help out in pinches, i fucking GIVE a SHIT.
but i consistently get the impression that nobody can lift a finger for me
and i am fucking tired- too tired to make an effort for anyone-
i've kind of been trying something.
trying to let go completely to see if anyone will follow me,
will try to reel me back in...

no one has.

i am napalming bridges when i have the inertia to make it go
early twenties cliche, losing touching and losing out on
all the hopeless optimism that found me in college.
i want some of it back, i can almost feel it in me
when i'm riding down sunset, sun at my back and
the wind gets colder by wayne newton's house,
it does for some reason, and it reminds me of
hollywood elementary, being young with things
to look forward to and the only thing i have to look
forward to is november and more sleep, less work,
less of my life spent at school, but to what end
when i feel like my good friends all falling down,
ashes, ashes, burned up like a flash in the pan
and i know everyone is busy, why, yes, I am busy
too, i am more busy than you, but i still care about
you, whether you are alive, and i want to know that
you care too, i want to know you look for me, or
think about me and perhaps this is my unenduring legacy,
THIS is what i have found in all the struggle, THIS
is what i have for getting old- nothing.
i guess... i want to feel like i'm part of something
again. i work myself into these states, but what's the point?
fuck you, JC. fuck you, NH. fuck you DV.
fuck you, P, for not picking up your phone,
and MP for being too cool for me.
the forefront of my mind of friendships
gone sour by asshole, negligence, negligence
and asshole respectively.
fuck you, TF.
fuck.
you.