Cole Goes on a Bender

My living room looks like a fucking crime scene and writings look far worse. I destroyed a bottle of vodka, 1/2 bottle of Chablis, a bag of Cheetos and butchered some writings in between the drunken feeding frenzy. :) All in all it was a productive evening.

Oh, and I also created a Face Book thing around 4am...at least that is the time Penny's slumber was rudely interrupted by my Face Book friend request via phone jingle. :D My account is now sleeping with the fishes and Davey Jones has something spank worthy in his locker. The evidence needed to be destroyed due to all kinds of raunchy pictures and writings.

I do NOT know what I did but it was bad. A bad accident of sorts. The kind of accident that you do not want friends or family members to witness. The kind that black lists you from Christmas Card lists, Holiday Parties and homes in general.

I recommend sober social networking.

On that note, I am so damn hung over!! I fear that the damage I have inflicted upon my mind is quite irreversible. Millions of brain cells were put to death over my drinking bender. The vodka showed no mercy as it coursed through my blood stream slaughtering my scruples, causing me to strip off my clothing so that I could dance naked to Pepper.

I should probably check the camera to make sure there are no videos to be had. That would ALMOST be as embarrassing as making out with Amber at the bar. I do not remember it so it did not happen.

Oh, the humanity!!!!

So, that is what happened to the bottle of vodka, 1/2 bottle of wine, the missing Cheetos, several chapters of writing and my dead Face Book account.

Schizo Writings..CAN HAZ!?!

I am currently writing again. No, obviously not here. I am here but not writing here. Wait. I am here but not?

Fuck?

Yes, please.

Tonight, I have pulled up some writing long over due for edit.

I shared the raw ideas with a friend.

I am not one to share my raw idea writings. I am vain in that aspect.

Petals are a coffee table whore...

Soft, thin and translucent when held to the light.

Crush them and obscure the picture. Block the light.

Smell the changes and crush out the purity.

Dried out and placed into a bowl.

I refuse to become the dried out romance author. I am not translucent and I still hold light enough to sexually stimulate many other lonely women!

I have a date this Sunday. Totally weird. The man is a customer that has been asking me out off and on for the last 6 months. I am taking my pocket tire iron.....you never know.

Silent Sadness Breaking

I did not cry when I helped them pack what the banks allowed them to keep. I listened to their fears and gave them assurances and unconditional love, all with out tears. I did not waver when my mother begged me to take what they could not. I was unbreakable when she crumpled in front of me asking for forgiveness.

In the end, I found myself walking the house with my father for one final sweep. Once he was satisfied, his stress worn and tear laden eyes met my own. Daddy wept quietly as I hugged him and then he asked me if I was going to be OK.

My proud father broke through my safeguards with silent tears.

The goodbyes were spent and I could not stand to watch them pull away. Instead, I walked past the neighbors and back into the empty house.

I sat cross legged in their empty bedroom and allowed my sobs to echo off of the empty walls and reverberate through desolate rooms as the neighbors dug up my mother's beautiful plants. The tears were for the years my father slaved away just to lose his home. My mother's failing health. My selfish need to be near them as I love them so dearly. My hopes for their undetermined future.

Weeping past tears, I sat there... all of my worries and fears for them long dried upon my face before I regained composure enough to walk past the shameless plant frenzied friendship mongers.

The house they once called home is empty and no longer belongs to them. The lawn furniture has long been pilfered by the mongers of friendship and the once neighbors continue to dig up the plants my mother painstakingly planted.

I miss them deeply but I know that they will prevail in this new life of theirs.

The Beautiful Candy Promise

I am waiting for this beautiful writing to burst forth through the fog, insecurities and fatigue of this very moment.

Mirrors and fake smiles are seemingly tossed at us with the promise of candy...

We chew on them oblivious to the harm they cause...

Promises that taste of sweet dreams once pondered and then forgotten...

Broken smiles and shattered aspirations crushed by the weight of reality...

What beautiful promises..

The promises we make to ourselves...

Remember.

Remember why we chipped our fake smiles upon the candy coated glass, allowing the pain to awaken those dreams once forgotten.

Taste the results of your neglect....and remember...

Digest and choke on your reasons.

Siren's Song

She is beautiful standing water.

The ripples await her wake and the sands hunger for her heavy steps.

Her light and weakness hold for the breath she may take.

Epitomy of beautiful slumber.

She sleeps awaiting her rebirth.

The ocean waters tug at her beckoning for her to succumb.

Salty tears kill the weak. She surfaces. Strength.

The waters subside, the bank laughs and she grows.

She breaks forth and steps out into the sands to imprint her new life.

Heels heavy and sand sinking..she trudges on.

She creates a new path. The path that few have the strength to walk. The sands are thick with past and damp with fears left to wash back unto the sea..

She returns to her past and watches as those prints wash away...

Nutshell

So, I have obviously been enjoying a pre-midlife crisis. I assume, once googled, One will find an interesting definition and copious amounts of cures...including drinking induced coma, kitten massacres and inserting one's nipples into light sockets. While all of these may seem lovely, I have decided to take matters into my own hands.

Brass Tacks. I am great at setting goals. I suck ass when it comes down to the follow through. I am the spoiled puppy with too many toys. I fall in love with things and throw them away when I become bored or overwhelmed. I realize that I need to narrow my goals down to 1 at a time. I need not fritz out over fifteen projects, become overwhelmed, drop them all and pick up twenty more. Yes, I do this.

I have tendency towards biting off more than I am able to chew and the end result is always a partially digested mess that has been thrown up onto the poorly carpeted floor of my life.

I also have tendency towards biting off things that take too much effort to chew. I become tired/bored and spit them out in hopes to find something easier to chew in the next bite. In short, I have a lot of shit stuck to the bottom of my shoes and the stink of it has finally become annoying.

I need to stop..and clean up the messes before I begin to bite off anything new.

-TOP Current Previously Spewed Project And How I Plan To MOTIVATE MYSELF-

WORK ON MEH DAMN NOVEL!

I need to establish a schedule. I hate them but I am obviously in need of one.
I plan on blogging twice a week or so. This will help spark my need for writing again and also allow those who love me enough to nag.. proof of my efforts.

200 words a day. I will not be overwhelmed by that. It is a start.

I will quit drinking, smoking and masturbating after my 10th novel. Scratch that. I will double that all after my first.

Yes, this blog was forced upon me with promises of cookies and love.

Thank you for the motivation, Blue. I would have avoided blogging for another 2 months. *huggles*


...Next Blog

I sold my panties for 65 dollars!

Delicious Nut Bar

The shell shines with a sheen worthy to reflect any one's sanity.

So pretty..

Let us crack it open, eh?


I know ASL. I use it to dance to Pepper.


Fuck the pain away.