the Good Mother

We never did too much talkin' anyway
We never did too much talkin’ anyway

 

Get this: When I was young I stole, drank, pillaged and plundered…not once had the word, DISOWNMENT been mentioned.
If nothing else, my strictly Catholic without Deviation Parents embraced my Avant-Garde thoughts and my off the cuff ideals. Homosexuality? Individuality? Question Authority? All characteristics Ma and Pa New Hampshire endorsed and encouraged.
While on my tour of Ambien Grace-land this past summer, the word, DISOWNMENT had been used in over 60 messages.
All relating to Ambien’s no quite so devoted democratic Mother and her strange twist on sexual idealism.
‘My mother will disown me if she finds out I’m gay, again!’
‘That’s why I have no social life…there have already been threats of disownment with Penny.’
‘I hope you’ll understand I can’t come out to my mother right now…she’ll disown me.’

Being gay is completely against nature so it is wrong.”  via Mother Theresa, supposed Enlightened Elitist Professing these thoughts at a State University near you.

Can there be forgiveness on her part? What should a twenty two year old do with a parent like that? How dare anyone be different than a stereotypical white bread upper middle class never touched a minority in her life, Adopt-A-Mother?
I believe Mother Theresa and Ann Coulter are the same devil in unnatural fibers:
Ann Coulter, of course, was “just kidding,” no doubt, when she wrote via Twitter, “Last Thursday was national ‘coming out’ day. This Monday is national ‘disown your son’ day.”

Ha ha! Wow, that is so funny. I’m sure that the more than 100,000 homeless LGBTQ youth — who literally have been disowned and kicked out of their homes by their parents just because they are LGBTQ — are laughing.
And, I honestly believe the suicidal tendencies of closeted Young Americans would lighten up a little if they just took themselves less seriously.
What a research project this family and many others like it could be for the right extremist out of the closet after years of hatred and bigotry, lesbian!
Yet, as Ambien once said, I just have to learn to work around her and lie to her…that’s just how it is…
Putting to shame all the out lesbians, transgendered, gay men and ‘different’ not earth people everywhere!

Don’t think twice…Ambien’s, Annie’s, Gracie’s of the World…it’s alright!

It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
If you don’t know by now
It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
It don’t matter anyhow
When the rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I’ll be gone
You’re the reason I’m travelin’ on
But don’t think twice, it’s all right.
It ain’t no use in turnin’ on your light, babe
It’s a light I never knowed
It ain’t no use in turnin’ on your light, babe
I’m on the dark side of the road
Still, I wish there was something you could do or say
To try and make me change my mind and stay
We never did too much talkin’ anyway
So don’t think twice, it’s all right.
It ain’t no use in callin’ out my name, now
Like you’ve never done before
It ain’t no use in callin’ out my name, now
I can’t hear you anymore
I’m a-thinkin’ and a-wond’rin’ all the way down the road
I once loved a woman, a child, I’m told
I gave her my heart but she wanted my soul
But don’t think twice, it’s all right.
I’m walkin’ down that long, lonesome road, babe
Where I’m bound, I can’t tell
But goodbye’s too good a word, babe
So I’ll just say “Fare Thee Well.”

I ain't saying you treated me unkind  You could have done better, but I don't mind  You just kinda wasted my precious time
I ain’t saying you treated me unkind
You could have done better, but I don’t mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time

But don’t think twice, it’s all right
Don’t think twice, it’s all right.

Federal Emergency Manic Agents

Are people basically good?
Are people basically good?
English: AmeriCorps logo
English: AmeriCorps logo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Diane Arbus Photography
Diane Arbus Photography (Photo credit: thefoxling)

Check list for any reader looking to volunteer with AmeriCorps, FEMA or VISTA.
Not applicable if you are looking to enlist with the Armed Forces, Peace Corp or McDonalds!

1. Be an avid fan of porn
2. Have several mistaken and misguided sexual romps with men and women; make sure not to use protection.
3. Have to have been approached by at least one law enforcement agency about public nudity and PDS: public display of sex!
4. Connected with at least one family member, in a manner to which is not considered ‘normal’. Unusual thoughts of seeing them naked, mother/daughter incest and/or strange attachment after adulthood has started; mother buys your clothes/father does your bills.
5. Have an on going addiction to Oxy and/or other substance not deemed ‘appropriate’ in large quantities.
6. Change name several times in hopes of leaving past behind.
7. Work under the table via Craigslist. NH/Nude Model for Hire.
8.Belong to the idea that work was made for sleeping through and watching trailers of Pocahontas.
9. Cut, gash, slice and self mutilate in areas of your body just noticeable for someone to feel bad for you.
10. Cry yourself to sleep every night.

That is about it. I’m sure there are many other qualities that above mentioned agencies are looking for. Certainly, the proud the few the sedated are urged to apply.
Post Script-
Always a plus to be on several psychotropic sedating medications at the same time.

Good to not be Home

The Healing of America

Home is not where the heart is. It never has been. Auburn Street Concord New Hampshire, not At Home!

It is by far the most pretentious and stereotypical white bread neighborhood north of the Mississippi and south of the Canadian border.
So, stay and be miserable? . I’m not trying to be mean but the homophobia and finger pointing is beyond compare. I don’t think I’ve ever been happy there. Not with the forced gratuities on the Cape with Marcie the Super Cousin. Not with the faculty from State of New Nowhere University. Not with Mother Theresa offering up my lack of accomplishments like hor- d’oeuvres at a UNH X-mas party for passed on professors.
Something I don’t share….I cry every night before bed…I am indeed what most men would want to take home to meet their mothers. Quiet and stupid without authority.
In May, the progress I’ve made will revert back to, yes, Mum. No, Daddy! Did I clean my room? Yes, now can I go out and play…no, I promise I’ll only hang out with myself and not come in contact with anyone who has different beliefs than I. Or, should I say, you?
I will hoard dirty dishes, I will eat like no tomorrow, I will mistake my pills for PRN’s and I will avoid anything referring to adulthood.
This will be the course of action that Ambien Grace will take from the moment she unhooks herself from a free volunteering ride and sets sail upon the distant shore of fantasy movies and bad hair music. The thoughts will come back as they always do…
Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if I found a new home? How would I go about making a new home? I have no skills other than basic ideas on how to take pictures of trees. I don’t do well in crowds or speaking to others for extended periods of time. I slur my speech and on frequent occasions, I stutter. Anxiety is what my mother builds her hold over me with.
To top it off, I’ve become the Blob in the movie, Weird Science! Larger than fiction and most certainly, truthfully fat am I. Giving up smoking is one thing but this I didn’t bargain for. The dimples have left my cheeks and moved south to the other cheeks. My breasts are in need of a motorized Scooter and for the most part, I’ve seem to have lost the willingness to care about any of it.
I went to a spot today to try and find me but…
I went to the only spot I could think of you possibly being at.
Of course. You weren’t there. But I actually tried for once in my life. Because you mean the world to me
Sorry my sentence is horrible…I’m sorta crying…

Needless to say, I didn’t find me.

back rooms and alley ways of a homophobic America
back rooms and alley ways of a homophobic America

Quick question for the fans of Ambien Grace:
If your heart knows you better than you know yourself…how can that be if you are heartless?

The Blood that I Need

Adoption

So show me family
All the blood that I will bleed
I don’t know where I belong
I don’t know where I went wrong

When I had told my mother, that fateful and not faithful day in November, about my perversions with a married woman; that had been the last nail in the coffin.  It was in fact the end of my swan song.

Never again would I be given the ‘it’s only Ambien being Ambien’ response.  Forever emblazoned in my history with ‘family’ would I be the outcast from trailer park DNA.  Years can and will go by.  Volunteering will be a thing of the past.  My work experience will read like graffiti on a public bathroom wall.  And, my relationship with homophobia, will be my legacy.

The sexual tone to my relationship with Mother Theresa has shown me that I could never be the partner she needed me to be.

The making of my GYN appointments, the buying of the clothes and the dressing me in the likeness of her SELF are now memory massages with weak hands.

Adoption is a funny thing.  On one hand the willingness to succumb to all the distorted rhetoric from misogynistic Adopt-A-Partners causes glee.

A message that is heard around the world; look at me I no longer need to be white trash.

But bunked up with the Bears somewhere south of DC; the thoughts and mistaken identity rushes me like a cup of over flowing chocolate milk.

Have I again through fault of my own; conformed?  Became a Plain Jane or a Ambien Annie, just to be liked and petted by Mother Theresa!

Rejection letters litter my life with a capital Z!  Zombies in a adopt a zombie wasteland.

Ambien Scares the Shit Out of Me

anger
anger (Photo credit: anyone123)

Not much going down…tonight. Big women and big boys scattered about Winchester VA and me, Ambien Grace, scattered about with me thoughts. My Mummy thought I had anger issues. The slicing, the dicing, the throwing of heavy objects against walls, the outbursts and the threats. When I had been getting fucked this summer, 3 or 4 times a day, the anger left. Flew right out of me with ever lurch and convulsion of my body. Whether it was love or not? Fuck if I know. I did receive a song in my name out of the whole untidy nip and suck:

She’s gonna ruin your looks with all the lies in the book!
She’ll make a pill-popper out of you.
You’ve got to sleep with a gun and keep an eye on her, girl.
You’ve got to watch all the things she’ll do.
And when the morning arrives you’ve got that hope in your eyes.
But she’s got methods of keeping you crazed.
There’s the drugs and the rage.
The weirdo friends that she makes. The hard sex at such early age.
Ambien scares the living shit out of me.
She could care less as long as someone’ll bleed.
So darken your clothes and strike a violent pose.
Maybe she’ll leave you alone, but not me. What have I done?
Am I the reason’s she’s dumb?
Will my overspending love make her poor?
Did my witty ways spark her promiscuous phase?
Am I the reason that she’s a whore?
I’ll tell you Ambien scares the living shit out of me!

...please remember to wash after contact
…please remember to wash after contact

I got laid tonight can you tell?   Much, much, much less anger and more Ambient not so Light!