{fear is in the chest.}

i've been really good. especially good. for the past few months i haven't even thought about disease or cancer. i may have made a comment or two about terminal illnesses. but i know that within myself i haven't been afraid. rather, i haven't obsessed about infirmities to the point where i become nauseated, dizzy and consumed by fear.

last night at five in the morning i was brought back. i have two lesions on the hard palate of my mouth. it began on saturday as one lump, which gradually became two parallel lumps. they grew slightly, felt hot, and now are two small, warm, open wounds. nothing too painful. i'm assuming they're fever blisters or canker sores. but why leave it at that. so last night i decided to read numerous medical documents, definitions, and articles, as well as look at all sorts of unearthly, horrific, bloodcurdling cancer images. of all the great ideas. i seriously convinced myself that i have oral cancer. and had to call my mom at five am and have her talk me down. i woke up and felt much better, fine even. but why let the issue rest. about an hour ago i looked up more pictures, and read about more symptoms of mouth cancer, and have convinced myself yet again that i am going to die a slow and painful, cancerous death at the young age of twenty-two. because, you know, it can happen. there are so many things you can die from. i called my mom again, she talked me down again, and i ask her "how to you
know that i don't have cancer? how does any doctor know if all he or she does is knead my breasts or poke my lymph nodes?" at any rate. the moral of the story is that i am ridiculous and exhausted now from all this fear. and i really wanted to have a vodka/o.j. and a smoke, but one article specifically pointed out the fact that smoking and drinking simultaneously makes it incredibly more likely for someone to get cancer. thanks science. thanks for taking the things that make me happy and peaceful and turning them into demons. thanks for ruining my fun.. and my life.


{the clubbed left foot.}

i was born with a clubbed left foot. which is funny because i don't remember having one at all. but i have seen pictures of an infant megan with a cast on her leg. i went on a walk today for the first time in weeks. when i walk, i lead with my right foot. i've been paying a great deal of attention to this lately. when attempting to lead with my left foot, i tend to limp, or hobble, which probably isn't as noticeable as it seems to me. when i try to lead with both feet, i strut. but strutting exhausts me. so eventually i just fall back into my usual steps. but it was a wonderful walk. i've felt so lethargic lately, very anxious and manic. but two days ago it was almost as if i consumed some sort of toxic elixir. i feel myself mutating, becoming more energetic, and less hoe-hum. the music i listened to on said walk made me happy. for the first time in a long while i felt the need to dance while walking. i didn't, and never do, but the thought of it always amuses me. so the walk was peaceful and pleasant, and stomping through the half-icy snow with my boots felt like how i'd imagine it feels like to eat cap'n crunch with plastic teeth. (i thought that at the time.. although i don't much care for the cap'n.) needless to say, i enjoyed myself. after a while however, on account of my left foot, my left knee and hip began to hurt. and gradually my left foot turned inwards to alleviate this discomfort, which it always does. in addition to that pain, my left shoulder is killing me. right now i am drinking cheap red wine. and really wish i had some green olives to eat. the ones with pits.

{i should have prefaced this writing with a warning. everything
i'm going to say tonight contains no actual reading value. i'm just talking, because i need to right now. i really with i had some olives..}

guess who just found olives.. that's right. it's me. they are the called "green pearls" and are the pitted,
pre-sliced ones. but it's good enough for now. mm, luxurious. while walking tonight, i almost stepped in a large pile of dog poop. in my head i comprised an open letter to the person who let their dog shit on the sidewalk. it went something like this:

An open letter to the person who let their dog take a crap on the sidewalk and just left it there:

Seriously guy. What the fuck. Asshole.

that's about it. i mean, what else is there to say really. i feel very pleasant right now. maybe five hours ago my brain was a paradoxical mess. i sometimes think two completely contrary things simultaneously, and believe in both. it pains me. and on that note,
i'd like to add that i am making a pact with myself to live alone from here on out. i think that is the only way to do it. i can't function when there's someone else in the house. and i dread coming home, because my privacy is depleted by at least 53 points. i don't know what that means. additionally, i really like vinegar lately, but it makes me lips feel swollen. tomorrow i am going to swim laps for the first time in maybe four years. which is very exciting. i like the smell of chlorine pools. i keep having dreams with specific songs in them. on saturday i had a dream with the song vogue by madonna. probably because it played on the radio at work, and sonny was singing along to it, which was very funny to me at the time. but either last night or today, i had a dream with the, oh yeah, it was today, with the song moondance by van morrison in it. and later, whilst walking, i put my music on shuffle, and it played at least four van morrison tracks. maybe my dream was prophetic. pointlessly prophetic. but in the dream this afternoon, i remember singing the words to moondance while leo deboe sat in the bottom of a kitchen sink, and rob keys' omnipresent voice suggested things that i don't remember. and my chest was on fire because of these little confetti crabs that you put into water so that they dance for you. they danced like a spirograph. it was completely awesome. i thought that maybe i'd gotten these little guys, reminiscent of sea monkeys, on my skin, which was why my chest was burning. also, you can't put a mermaid in the water with these crab things because the crabs will swarm and kill it. that's the information leo read from the packaging the crabs came in. and i said, "leo, are they alive?" and he said, "well, for now they are." and then looked at the neon drawing of a mermaid on the package and said, "you can't go in there." and i swear to god, in the dream it was his exact intonation. there were also wicker chairs around a wicker table in this room. (which was an underground apartment, don't ask me how i know that, i just do.) but all the furniture was lined with white wire hangers. which i imagined was the keep the from getting all banged up. i also recall an instance in the dream where leo, rob and i, needed to call opie, because no one knew where we lived. maybe because it was underground. and all the while, moondance was playing. so that's the dream i had while sleeping on the floor in front of my space heater in my bedroom. wow- my right leg just fell asleep and i really thought i was about to lose it.

and by the way, these olives suck.
i'm gonna have a cigarette.


{a song.}

oh i'm just a little black rain cloud
hovering under the honey tree
oh i'm just a little black rain cloud
pay no attention to little me
oh everyone know that a rain cloud
never eats honey no not a nip
i'm just floating around
over the ground
wondering where i will drip

{the wolves won't make us better.}

she warms up and laughs hollow alone in a room on the east side of a town growing fonder. shadow-boxing herself into a corner. where the computer is. where the wine is. where the words are. there's no smoking this one out. not ever. she's making secret plans and counting money. taking things too seriously and always considering who the fool might be. if only they knew how much i didn't want to love them. she thinks in silence. they will eat you alive and not even know it. you'll throw yourself into their breakfasts. and they will blindly swallow without glancing. this is the new dimension of self. where ideas aren't solidified. every coin is double-headed. there are no erasers. and all the pages have to be filled before the sun is allowed to come up. but it's never under control. she thinks of secrets that can't be kept. and now says .:memories remember me:. wishing that she didn't and knowing full well of the desires. if only i were better. for now my house is mine. and i must keep quiet. i'm sorry for that. but it will make me better. if only i'd recognized fear when it came to my door with all that alcohol in hand. i would have called that man a liar. not that he was a man. i don't remember.

{le côte devoire.}

there's ink on the sheets.
and my jaw is shifting to the right.
so i know
i've had too much.

i'm in the middle of the ocean.
i haven't left my room in four days.
i've never been so lonely in my life.
and i think
i'm in love with margot.

new paragraph..



the way your mouth folds
when you say no
is so secretly enticing

the drunks meander
they plod down town
up the street stumbling.
i can't tell if it's endearing
but i know i like it.

i remember names.
and i have visions.
alcohol eventually makes you
lean across the bar
{in subconscious
desperations maybe}
or slide under.

i love the handsome men.
i'd like to be their friends
and see their naked backs.
i'm too shy to whistle
and too afraid to strip.

they're drunk
their lips are swollen
necks hang
sophistication is a constant

the way a face is put together,
all the facets gathering
never ceases to enchant me.

let's be ghosts together
because of my mind supposedly
i seek in
i'd like you to know who i am
and all that i stand for.
you won't meet anyone
who loves like me.

i'm a drunk when i can't love.
because i need something
to be dedicated to.

and for some strange reason
that brings me hope.



i'm the man who looks in the mirror
and forgets what he has seen
maintaining the heavy task of daily redefinition
but there is the undertone
of a certain
single self surviving
like the dwindling embers of specific existence
most days i don't feel much like making things matter
especially that and after
spending so much time trying for nothing
my realizations are just passing thoughts
epiphanies, petty.
the truth of the matter always escapes me
or eludes me

if i could grab a hold of it
i'd probably just let go anyway
these are the heavy days
these are dastardly days
and lately i'm just another sucker for them

{i hate this.}

that pretty much sums it up.

{drawing from:explodingdog.com}


{yerr-ah girl-drink-drunk.}

i understand that everyone is crazy in their own respect. and i appreciate that for what it is. pause. i should really just leave it at that. but i'd like to add that there are some things people do that completely leave me speechless. just. speechless. and i'm sure i elicit the same emotion in others. but man. MAN. i don't get so many things. seriously. there are so many things i don't get. how many different ways can i write that. in order to get the point across better. oh boy. like marriage. say it in your head once. now say it aloud. marriage. people love getting married, thinking about getting married. planning weddings. buying dresses. how many ladies do i know who peruse the wedding magazines in the check out isle. and i know there's nothing wrong with that... i'm excited to see all the people i grew up with getting married. i'd like to thank them all in advance. for providing me with massive quantities of alcohol. you can bet your bottom dollar i will be at the most spectacular day of your life. to shake your hand. and take over the bar. one of my most satisfying memories involves a wedding i attended two summers ago. at that point in my life i was looking really good. i'd been sad a while, and on account of it was very slim. so i went to this wedding on a hot july day, and found the bar was serving wine. a decent wine at that. except they were handing it out in these shot sized plastic cups. i had three or four, and then decided the portions were ridiculous, so i asked to be upped to the pint glass. three or four of those later. i felt the need to simply ask for the bottle. in the midst of casually snatching it, while the bartender wasn't looking (or maybe he just let this happen) a wonderful thing occurred. the dj, who had been sucking it up all night, as they tend to do, made a marvelous decision, possible sparked by some cosmic... thing, to put the song "danging queen" on. at thing point, a large portion of the crowd had left. and the dance floor was empty. with the exception of myself. dancing the night away. clinging closely to my bottle. it was one of the most glorious things that have ever happened. the end.


au revoir, les enfants. do yourself a favour and watch it. it's good. and i'm a sucker for anything french.



the rats get cold and come inside. i sleep in my coat. and there's ice on the sheets, frozen to the wall. we are all waiting. for summer. sleeping naked, i don't care to put on clothes and venture out into the wilderness. so smoking out my window, leaning out as far as possible in a bathrobe, i watch the cold from comfort. attaining just enough of its bitterness, so that i'm filled with thoughts. the chain link fence in front of me is frozen, laden with murderous icicles. the kind that kill. and trees crack, brittle in the breezes. seemingly intentionally. i blow smoke hard away. to not let it enter my house. i smoke furiously and emotionally. closing window i collapse on sheets and pillow. thinking i'll fall right into dreaming. the negative image of a metal fence is ingrained behind my eyelids. gradually abstracting and sinking in on itself, i slide right in. like living in a kaleidoscope. folding in while duplicating. i softly chew my tongue. and open my eyes. i know i won't sleep yet.



i'm hungry. don't feel like eating. cheese sandwich. most nights i sit in my car and listen to good songs i like that make me lonely. i'm lonely. and hungry. not the kind of lonely i used to be. different this time. i think too much. i'm just a person being human. driving down that hill making myself cry. listening to old love songs. swooning. i don't think i'll eat for several days. it's just something i have to do. don't tell me anything about it. i don't want to hear it. and i won't take any heed. time is standing still for us. the things you say always captivate me. but i try to grow new skins. harder steel and armor. let nothing pass through me. let nothing take me over. except sleep and death. not even sleep. i can deny anything i want. i can control anything i like. because i am so weak, and my compulsions are all i have. my addictions are all i have here. at this time.

it's exciting when separated from the context of my own life. it's part of the memoir i have yet to write. it's already being written. but i still try to absorb the moments i find myself living. knowing i'll miss them later. i always do.