Leif Erikson

is one of my favorites by Interpol

It was the second time Charlene threatened to kill herself. We had been dating a year. It was turbulent but I loved her. That night she said she took a handful of expired pills and asked me to feed her children the next day. I lay there. Angry at her. I thought, ‘how dare you try and put your kids’ tears on me. Puta Madre.’

I tried to hold the anger in but that only made things worse.

She was suspicious of me because I lied to her early in our relationship. The lie was a mistake, but at the time I didn’t see it that way. I didn’t consider how hard it must have been for her to trust me again.

To prove I was sincere about never lying again; I cut myself off from everyone, let her check my phone, spent all my time with her-or on the phone with her. Did that work? Nope.

The night of the pills, I just wanted to not fight. I knew jealousy, like a lot of people do. I was accustomed to being the jealous one in a relationship. But this was different.

Its as if she used my one mistake to excuse her fucked up behavior.

Bettie Paige in a suitcase

“if her life is such a big joke. Why should I care?…It’s like learning a new language
Helps me catch up on my mind(mime?)
If you don’t bring up those lonely parts
This could be a good time…
You come here to me
We’ll collect those lonely parts
And set them down
You come here to me”

I was innocent but my innocence clouded my understanding of what she believed. And that’s very important to understand. I wanted us to be right. I thought I found my wife.

After a certain point I just stopped taking her accusations seriously.

Some people talk of recycled arguments that never get set to sleep. Arguments wailing at night, like a witch colored copy of an old resentment. Something that both of you can’t kick.

I’ve been thinking about the movie, “Leaving Las Vegas.” But I can’t remember why Nicholas Cage is trying kill himself with booze.

I mostly remember “Leaving” for the gorgeous Elisabeth Shue. Her blonde, wavy hair makes me wanna not comb my hair. But fuck! There’s no way mine would look that hot. Shue and the lovely, Sheri Moon Zombie kinda look the same. It’s their jawline smile. They have a similar beauty I find irresistible.

Charlene viewed my unwillingness to talk as a sign of guilt. The constant arguing was draining the life from my smile. I just wanted to show her. Get her in bed and rub her clit all over my face. Flip her over and eat her from behind.

But none of what I did got us back that way again.

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Conjuring Lovecraft

It’s been a long week and I am still the writer who does not write. Watched a Lovecraft doc on YouTube tonight and I couldn’t help but compare myself to him when the narrator described how Howard didn’t work because he felt a gentleman should “be” not have to “do.” Yeah well it’s 2019 and that shit don’t get you followers/people willing to buy your books. I decided long ago to start playing the lotto when I decided to give up on making a living like any other person. Currently working on a short story about love, and the awful shit people do to each other because that’s what love makes them do. I’ll hopefully share a line or two soon as I can stop being so depressed that I am able to. Don’t hold your breath.

and as an added bonus here’s a bit of prose/something to start a story. No title

Waking up can be difficult. The indecisive nature of how I operate makes for an easily self-contained person. A science experiment in the idea of not wanting to better myself yet going through weeks were all I do is obsess over bettering myself.
Writing short stories is harder than I expected. I thought I could just take my rotten experiences and my juvenile hijinks from my life and apply them to some sort of literary coup.
The junkies in the streets fair off better than you or me, the reason is because there’s nothing in what I see that can force me to change what’s wrong with me