can't sleep

hello again. & sorry I haven't stopped in lately. Christmas time, you know? That's the time when you blow hours looking, driving for that damned butterscotch pony (not worth it); the time you try to figure out where you're going on which days, what am i suppose to bring, and did you say my house? and well, you know we can't have 15 people at my house, we have no freaking bathroom door. i guess we can have them, but let's make it early so everybody will be gone by six, but then they don't even get here til six, and the macaroni is clumped up into one giant orange sculpture thing, if you will.

it's the time when the little crosses with names of folks who died in traffic accidents get santa hats. the time when you're kids shout "christmas lights!" and you remember before you had kids, how you used to have christmas lights, and you think maybe next year you'll get em out.

it's the time to try & come up with those obligatory gifts, and everybody else is doing the same, then you have a bunch of people standing around looking at their candles and canned nuts, jogging suits and glass dust collectors, and I guess jesus may not approve- but sometimes you envy all those jews that take the christmas break somewhere in the tropics.

There's definitely that part of me that longs to tell both sides of our family that we're going to others, then hang at the house and have a private shrimp boil, play a little jimmy buffett christmas island.

anyway, thank you for having me. I walked past an old helium balloon, thought it was somebodys head, then going up the stairs, i hear,"i'm sleepy" in that eerie robot doll voice, and all the lights are out. I look back at the thing, cause I'm too freaked by it, and it goes off three more times while I'm trying to figure out how to turn it off.

my manuscript hasn't sold, it's really about time to bury all of them and write something new for the new year. Perhaps I'll improvise a couple pages a day, i don't know. but I'm here at the moment.

I thought about a project I started writing, and how I'd written these few brilliant pages and the computer ate them like they were never meant to be. How could I recreate that kind of magic?

how can anyone recreate magic?
and then i think, where does it come from and where does it go?



remember the rocky horror picture show
looking stupid singing those songs
but strangely everybody belonged.
and you got away with going.
far as any girl could go

but then you grow some sense, right?
you see it for what it is
frivolous kids
don't know much and it shows.
those kids get on my nerves now.
can't go where the wind blows.

and frivoly is like a toothless fairy
not too bright, full of dust
but you get a little higher
if you have wings that you can trust
those wings are gonna crumble
so child do what you must.
do what you must

innocent bystander watching the world go by
i don't recognise her
got bigger fish to fry.
and I don't remember where my pan is
who's full of dust now?

frivoly's a toothless fairy
maybe one day i'll be wary
of having so much common sense.
i'll grow real old & dye my hair blue
just because i want to.
maybe partly for a laugh.



then you get drunk and tell stories to your grown grandchildren
like your mother used to do...ha ha. good night.

come back soon.

holy crap, i just have to add that i was just sitting here writing this, then when i went to hit publish post, it lost the page, i hit the back button and it had been cleared. somehow i got it back. jeez.