“Throw dirt on me, and grow a wild flower.” — Lil’ Wayne







Hosted by: 79sparrows
“Sunday, Bloody Sunday” in the words of Bono. The problem with Sunday, is although it is technically is part of the ‘weekend,’ it also prefaces Monday. It is that part of the day that my mind wanders to ‘what will I be walking into tomorrow?’ It’s not like I work for Donald Trump, but my job has it’s own very unique challenges. My office is the textbook example of “blockage.” Management is incompetant and most lack basic social skills. Here is a conversation I overheard in the elevator the other day:
Suit 1 : “Well, it’s my floor. See you around.”
Suit 2: “See you around like a donut.”
I de-boarded also, in the wake of Suit 1 & 2 chuckling away.
So…tomorrow is Monday. Johnny Cash didn’t write “Sunday Morning Coming Down” for no good reason. Sunday is a bummer; a Debbie Downer if you will. (Not so much in the morning, but afternoon/evening/night.)
Also, as a kid, I hated school. The Sunday Evening Anxiety Party has been going on for quite some time.
Let’s talk about something nice. I’ll list some sexiness, and pretend I’m prepared to face my OCD/verge of meltdown/unreasonable/insane boss tomorrow.
Taking a bath is fun!
(“thats what she said”)
Temperatures have reached a humid, sticky high in the Washington, DC metropolitan area. Unless you’re interested in sweating out for a detox of some sort, the heat is unbearable, and not sexy at all. It’s tough to feel cute with droplets of sweat forming on my upper lip and forehead. I’ve noticed I sweat more then the average person, just like my father. Yikes. “I’m sweating like a pig out here!” as he would describe it.
I was sitting outside earlier, drinking iced cappucino #4, when I remembered my days vacationing in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico.
It was fabulous.
I was fabulous.
I loved Cabo so much, I went ever summer for 3 years in a row. My then-boyfriend (now-stranger) had a timeshare he used for resorts all over the world, and I was given the opportunity to be the “decision-maker” over where we went. So I kept choosing Cabo. Then we broke up, and I havent been back since.
The guys who ran the booze cruise always remembered me and that was nice. Secretly, I had a massive crush on Ruben. He was a mexican guy with long curly hair and eyes as blue as the Sea of Cortez. His beer bongs and body shots were monumental in my eyes. A man that knows how to get the party started & continuing is an admirable quality. I wish he was here right now, encouraging me to live free and enebriated, for just one night.
Ah, memories.


the temperature’s 100 degrees
the languid wet summer’s heat
seduces the sweaty
into taking off their clothes
hey you
in your sears sucker suit
take a break from your
professional pursuit
take it off
take it all off
stand up
for you’ll never regret
the shadow of summer’s silhouette
–by 79sparrows
I just downloaded Eminem’s new lp, “Recovery,” off Itunes. As in, I bought the whole album all at once. It’s a rare occurence. Most usually, I pick and choose one or 2 songs from each artist. Remember when you had to buy the entire cd at once? For instance: BON JOVI / NEW JERSEY.

1988, BOYS AND GIRLS!
Only like “I’ll be there for you” and “Lay Your Hands On Me?” Too bad. That is what a fast-forward button is there for. There was no such thing as a custom made personal playlist 24/7. And you know what—accidently sitting thru those songs I didn’t care for built character. It taught me about patience and forced me to listen to a wider range of music.
So, I declare tonight “Retro Saturday Night,” may you all allow yourselves to relive the joy of buying an entire album. Bonus points for brand new releases. I am quite excited to hear Eminem’s latest work; it has been sort of lame without Marshall Mathers / Slim Shady around.
The oddest thing– last year my father suffered cardiac arrest, was on his deathbed for 2 months, hung on….came out of the coma. While catching up with everyone about what has been going on the last 2-3 months, he asked “So what happened to Eminem? Is he dead or did he marry his mother or what?”
Now, that was funny.
My dad pays attention to Eminem? Color me surprised.
So I bought the whole cd; and it feels good. I have the house to myself this weekend, and the volume is up pretty loud. I’m 3 songs in, and THIS IS GOOD!!! The Eminem I fell in love with in 2000 is back. And I feel 20 again, a little bit fly , with some rebellious angst thrown in. That’s what Slim Shady does best. Even though we’re all grown up….. Slim’s lyrics have evolved beautifully. ” Talking to Myself” —my fave so far. 
Life is tricky. So easy to settle for shit and not even notice. Then you came along and I started remembering things.
We have so much to talk about. You asked where my family lives. A simple question but I liked telling you all about it.
First, allow me to tell you
about those crazy kids these days.
Vacant lots, logged on long enough
to update their status
on Facebook.
Because they believe what they’re doing that moment is worthy of an announcement in 3rd person. My own personal .02: I insist you unplug. Let us all wonder if you are going grocery shopping, or on the can, or thinking about doing yoga later.
Be mysterious.
You aren’t missing anything except your freedom. With updates, come social responsibility. People are going to expect that you know what they are doing too, and if you don’t prepare to be a self-absorbed jerkoff.
All this updating and keeping up
is time consuming
and unnecessary
that’s all I’m saying on the topic of social networking. No, wait: Take those applications off your cell phone too.
be free.
cheers.
”The way we communicate with others and with ourselves ultimately determines the quality of our lives.”–Anthony Robbins
This hour I tell things in confidence,
I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.
–”Song of Myself,” Walt Whitman
MY DEAR FRIEND,
I wish we could have a million more nights to spend waiting for the sun to come up. Please stay, don’t go away and leave me without you in this world. I love you, I love your life. It’s been 11 amazing years of friendship, you saw me grow from a bar rat poet who let guys walk all over me to a woman who makes my dreams come true. Remember our trip to Illinois? It was the strangest 9 days of seeing the little town you grew up in. And now at 41, you lay in hospice. My dear friend, I can’t believe life right now. Soon you will be gone and I just hope you greet me at heaven’s gate whenwe are reunited. I can’t believe this or that soon I will not see you for a while.
Son ofa bitch
You are the one who told me to keep writing.
“If you get it and love it…represent it and make it a part of you…don’t do it because you want to impress somebody or fit in. Bleed what you are and if people don’t feel you, keep on going. Someone else will get it. The realest things on this earth are the things that have gotten passed by many of times. They have aged lines from disappointment that will one day be a tale for many to share.” –Davey Suicide