An in-depth tale of constipation, or, just getting your attention.

Last Summer, I was trying to wash the morbid poetry off my recently-diagnosed schizophrenic brother’s walls, threatening to total one of my father’s cars with myself inside it, bawling like a child in front of strangers at my grandpa’s funeral, fasting uncomfortably, involved with severely warped individuals and pacing back and forth at a hospital after my little brother had been driven into a tree.

It’s a good thing, not having misadventures up on my thought log, this time around.

What is rotating around my head like stock marquees aren’t what I’d call necessarily interesting to other people. For one thing, I’m a little bitter that pouring my heart and soul into a written entry will generate 0 comments, but slapping up some photos will keep them rolling in days after. Suddenly, I’m getting a dozen notices that so-and-so wants to private message me.

“Okay, we should be friends, now” is about the most pretentious, one-sided idea anyone can propose. And just as equally bloated a question, whatever happened to someone else, catching my attention? Where are your goddamn dreams? I write brainteasers and spill my psyche until it’s dangerous – what the hell is pumping blood through your body? You wanna give someone a fuckin’ clue?

Then just get the fuck out. **throws you your handle from her friends list** Here, take your shit and leave.

“What are you thinking” is one of those antics corralled with female behavior that I must own up to. I saw a senior citizen stand with his arms at his hips, as he looked out from our little rest stop over the Shiawassee River. All by himself like that, having lived so much longer than I have, it was enough of a glimpse to make me want to ask the dreaded, “What are you thinking?” as our car passed him by. His brain looked so much more interesting than everything else around me at that moment in time, like I could smell his skull glowing inside.

You hear some of the best stories from people who are running out of them.
You take in some of the best breaths when you realize you might not have many more.

If I were a ghost, I’d see some interesting things. Places you scan but don’t normally access for one reason or another, like car accidents. My translucent body would be sitting passenger side of an upside down car, taking in the damage and hoping for a conscious driver. I’d ride fire engines and trail police cars. Other ghosts would haunt Florida beach houses and call me nuts.

It’s an exciting time to be alive, with our currently divided nation. Newspapers are printing different renditions of wedding cake grooms holding hands with other grooms, the political race involves choosing one of two undesired candidates (hint hint – if someone would care to send folding money my way, I may* be easily persuaded), humans are on the verge of pumping out souls with science, and – oh my gosh – Britney Spears is like, engaged!

“W00t! W00t!” as the fucktards would say.

“That was an inappropriate remark. My son is a fucker and it does not imply that he is a tard.

Yeah – when the imaginary townspeople in my head start talking, it’s time to close up shop.


37 responses to “An in-depth tale of constipation, or, just getting your attention.

  1. You know I was going to ask you the next time I saw you online what your thoughts on the fact that you got more posts than ever on a thread that you posted pics on were. I guess I don’t have to wait to see you online now.

    I do think that the internet gives people a sense that if they can see picture of someone then that person must be a slut/gigolo and they have a shot with them. Lucky for me I am not attractive and don’t have to deal with all that mess.

    • This little piggie said “in their dreams”. *cues icon*

      I’m sorry I kept getting booted offline during our conversation. I really need a cell phone.

      We should swap books when you’re done.

      • Re: This little piggie said “in their dreams”. *cues icon*

        No big deal, my mind was full of random thoughts about everything, job in Boston, Grandmother…just lots on my mind so I wasn’t the best conversationalist last night.

        We can swap books if you want, I don’t mind.

  2. i always for some reason thought u were from europe, because this other person “bcm” – her old LJ name was, something dame. and she is like “i just like your photos” – so she doesnt read mine and i dont read hers, but she likes my photos. BUT, you are local (michigan-ish) – i didn’t realize that, that and ur not the british gurl.

    “I’m a little bitter that pouring my heart and soul into a written entry will generate 0 comments.” thats, how it flows.

  3. It’s a lot easier to come up with something to say to a picture or a “fun” post than to something serious or that obviously comes from a deeper part of you. Usually I just read and take it in and don’t really have anything to say to it… except perhaps thank you for sharing.

    But I do read. And I’m glad you write. There’s something beautiful about putting thoughts to words and showing yourself that way. It can be a lot more revealing, attractive, seductive, informative, cautionary, etc. than any picture. And it’s not even so much the ideas and stories you tell, even though that is the point… but the fact that you share them at all also contributes in some part to the overall beauty of it.

    So yeah… sorry I don’t comment more. As for my own LJ, it’s sort of on hiatus until my life is suitable for public consumption again.

    • Sometimes the unsuitable things are the juiciest.

      Wow, that was really sweet. I kind of figured that “people are out there, reading” was something I only told myself. And I have to confess that I understand it’s weird to respond to stand alone pieces… gosh. Thanks for your two cents.

      I feel good again. :)

  4. I wish I could give you the response you’re looking for, but rest assured, to me you are interesting, and someone I’m interested in being friends with because of your words, primarily. So the pictures reveal you’re attractive. So what? I wouldn’t care if you were, because your words have made you beautiful to me.

    Hmmm…now I realize how stalker-esque this sounds, but I stand behind my words, prepared to fight until the death.

    • I expect us to live a long time, so we’re gonna need some new weapons.

      I’m glad you’re a fighter. You kicked some major ass in my abortion debate, and made me laugh. And by the way – what you’ve had to say about Bush’s idea to suspend the election is right on the mark. He even has loyal fans going, “uh oh… what are you doing?”

      And I’m sorry for the bad anniversary of sorts… my nightmare has, for the most part, lifted, and I know that you’re still dealing with the aftermath of all the things I read about when I first found your LJ and decided to backtrack.

      All I can really do is watch, and stalk back ;)

  5. Autumn, your intellect is amazing. But, I often don’t post comments unless I’m really really sure of myself. I do look forward to reading your entries everyday. So, keep it up. Screw the rest of em.


  6. I often don’t comment much on the more personal entries, just because I often find myself at a loss for words. Rather than say something mindless and idiotic, I’d just rather read and enjoy.

    “You hear some of the best stories from people who are running out of them.
    You take in some of the best breaths when you realize you might not have many more.”
    I couldn’t agree more.

  7. So when I was a freshman in college, I got really sick and my throat closed up so tight I couldn’t even drink any fluids to flush the bad stuff out. When I finally got better enough to eat semisolids like soup, I cracked open a can of Progresso’s chicken noodle, and it was the best thing I’d ever eaten in my life.

    Your comment on the stories and the best breath is so perfectly apt.

    In other news, I hope you’re not lumping me in with the more shallow comments. I think I’ve let out my own soul for tasting more than average, with more hopefully to come. Certainly more than *I’m* used to. But getting there. Thanks for being the one to listen.

    • What a godawful experience.

      Yeah, you sure have [been writing a lot on what you’re going through] which is one reason why I’ve bookmarked you. Thanks for the reality – I eat it up like a zombie eats brains.

      I know that your ordeal with someone in your past has been emotionally stressful on you, and I hope you stay strong. I was really happy to read that you’d decided to trade up and aim for better things.

  8. pour the flea soap… spike it with some lemon juice

    sometimes you just gotta crack the fucking whip and see who dances. you know your head is always interesting ta me. :) W00t…. ouch that hurt. Where’s that T ohm when you need some esightment.

    • FUCK THE LEMON JUICE when there’s gold in menstrual blood!

      Let’s not even…

      No. Uh-uh. NOT FUNNY, RICK! BAD BAD BAD.

      From now on, I’m keeping my third eye on you.

      *winces at her own horrible references*

      • Re: FUCK THE LEMON JUICE when there’s gold in menstrual blood!

        From now on, I’m keeping my third eye on you.

        my third eye is watching your third eye. sorry. *slaps himself where it hurts* :)

      • Re: FUCK THE LEMON JUICE when there’s gold in menstrual blood!

        That reminds me. Wanna join me for a course on glass blowing? (Har!)

  9. Toys in the attic…

    Some people’s minds are like an empty old house. They give you nothing. You have to provide your own furnishings; the things that make you comfortable so you can function. I prefer a mind that is well furnished. One that’s not easily negotiated and often rearranged, yet remains somewhat familiar. Even if it’s just a small item that we can identify, we feel somewhat at home. And don’t forget all the cool stuff in the attic! That’s how I feel sometimes when I read your journal. For me, sharing photos isn’t as interesting sharing thoughts. Photos are moments frozen in time. But thoughts can grow and develop and become so much more than just what they were at the moment of conception. I told you once before that I liked the way you painted pictures with words and sometimes there isn’t anything to say or do except to just sit back and think about what you’ve written. And I know that what you write sometimes is just for you and you really don’t expect comments. One of these days we’ll all get it right. Besides, Bi-Nerry likes you!

  10. Often I feel commenting on a serious post can result only in the following:

    a) I say “i know how you feel, totally”-the other person rightfully thinks,’t.

    b) I say “this was a fantastic post!”-the other person thinks, uh this was the worst experience of my life and you think it was ‘fantastic’…thanks.

    c) I say “well, lemme tell ya what i would do…”- but does the other person really want my smug prescription for a better life?

    d) I don’t know what to say, but i want to say something, so I type a single punctuation mark – “!” or “?!” – and the other person can interpret this in so many ways it’s probably the worst comment of all.

    I never read every post from every person. I do read some. What I like about your posts is the writing has a voice. I hear someone speaking. Many people can write decently, intelligently, without texture, sound… does that make sense? It doesn’t matter that sometimes I’m not sure of what I’m reading, the context, because the style is so convincing, authentic I guess. It keeps me interested.

    Toorah loorah,


    • Makes sense.

      You have a good point – maybe it is best to just leave some things be and appreciate them without the hassle of leaving your mark. And, thank you for the recognition.

      I was starting to feel like no one was around.

  11. Wot they said. I only usually post to crack some kind of attempted funny but tend to stay away from the more in depth, serious posts. Unless I’m close with the writer and we aren’t already in discussion, my gut reaction generally is to step back and let those whom are take any bait that might’ve been offered. I dig your brain & journal, in any event. Chomp, maybe.

  12. Long Time Reader not often commentator

    Actually you found me first, but since then I have found your posts interesting and informative, esp the voice posts!

    Fewer people read these days so they don’t respond until they see a visual.

    • Re: Long Time Reader not often commentator

      Yeah! I found you through our evil Katie… do you know how she’s been? I don’t see her online ever, anymore. :( I wonder she got mad at me…

      Once I said something she didn’t like and she pushed the warning button like, 5 times. She’s fierce.

      • Re: Long Time Reader not often commentator

        I noticed katie missing too and so have a bunch of other people.

        Do you know anyone in her home town who check on her?

        I have visions of her in a homosexual teen deprogramming camp ala “But I’m a Cheerleader!”

      • Re: Long Time Reader not often commentator

        She was always talking about joining the service… then she’d mention schooling first… and her love life could really drive her insane. It’s enough that I’m worried.

        Last time in AIM, she quoted from Van Gogh’s letters and when I didn’t directly respond she wrote, “I thought you of all people would appreciate that.”

        I said, “Oh, it’s beautiful, Katie. But you always talk like that and I was just kind of reading…”

        “Well, I didn’t write it. But I could have.”

        :) She’s so great.

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