JPG Magazine: MsB

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Saturday, October 03, 2009

big red paint ball

This is a night I would call my friend Micky. I feel out of wak, out of sorts. He always knew like nobody else what was up with me. I miss that and that alone sets me on edge. I don't believe I've ever felt that way about someone who died. Not even my Mother. What the fuck is up with that. So I called, text messaged, e-mailed, face booked, my spaced, ect... everyone is busy. I'd get drunk if I thought it would even remotely alleviate this feeling. this lack of being able to what, I don't know.

So I thought writing about this nonspiritual hole in my universe might help. And the ability to share this shit with someone might give it some edge of truth. Although I'm not usually so forth coming on the net theres a bit of desperation hanging around. So not that any of this makes much sense, but here it is anyway. This blog feels as about as intimate as everything else in my life. So there the dilemma is like a big red paint ball lobbed at the wall. The godlessness of lonely.

so tomorrow this will just be another one of those nights and like child birth I will barely remember how excruciating it can be. I won't even be able to identify.

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