I’m not girly. I don’t wear pink underwear and sit around painting my toenails. I’m a masochist and I attract other masochists and we sit around cutting ourselves. And I don’t need help. I hate philosophy. I hate psychotherapy. I’m tired of talking about some lost inner child. Fuck that.
And if you want control and if I’m scary it’s not my fault I was born with a psychic dick ten feet long. I get the job done which is more than I can say for most…I’m a slave and almost everyone’s mad at me, jealous because my moon is full and brighter than theirs. It’s a fact, I was born that way -on the full moon. And so why should I tiptoe around pleasing and appeasing anymore. I’m not a doormat and my life isn’t glamorous. I’m just a laboring semi-hag with sharks biting at her feet. I think I need to buy a one way ticket out of here- drop the stupid hindu name and start making some sense to myself. It’s really about time, after all. I’m so old now and we know women only have “so many good years” but “I’m pretty enough for now” right? Fuck you.
My sex is an island and the older the better. You don’t believe me, come back in twenty years and we’ll see who got the better of me. You know all about black widows right?
So if you want to be in control then maybe you should gather all your man force and do something about it – instead of letting me use you as my blow up doll- or masturbate from memory because of the outfit you wore…it’s hard being so hard- what can I say.
I talk about hearts and love and throw in words like sky and deep because I know that’s what everyone wants- but it’s stupid and empty and words are just acorns for horny little squirrels to hide somewhere and forget. I know what’s going on up in the trees, I’ve been around squirrels all my life. And what I say will bother you only because you’re uptight and you take me way too seriously. Lighten up dude, this isn’t about you.
It’s about me and it always has been. I’m like Mother Theresa on steroids living this life- again, don’t take offense- go with it ok? I’m a comedian – sarcastic and sadistic. I assist those stuck with the stick up you know where- just pull it out please….God, what’s up with all the tight and tucked in? I could vomit and you’d only smile. That’s what I mean…how can I effect you? That’s all I want, to effect a rise, to see your eyes, to drop the disguise- but no, that won’t happen because we’re scared and we’re proper and I’m not a lady- or lady like in my words and deeds- and I give every man a run for his money- who can take that? Well, no one really – BD is older and wiser but also a little insane- so he doesn’t even pay attention to the implications of my madness – he just laughs and he laughs and he tells me to relax. I can pull out all the stops- scream -maybe threaten something vile- slam a few doors….only laughter. It would piss you off too ok? But once in a while I can get very venomous and quiet and hiss into his eyes- that always works- and at least then I’ve scared him- touchdown. Now, what shall I do? And we just laugh and laugh and laugh at me…
Have some fun ok? It’s confession time and believe me I’m going to need some holy help. I laugh at myself. I’m so so so funny, to me anyway- because you don’t live here and there’s never a boring second in my house- and I never stay sulking- it’s up and it’s down- a happy roller coaster ride and a sermon in the middle and we laugh and we laugh and BD says we should be a reality tv show…because nothing is set in copper or stone. Only diamonds of my shining love remain at the end of the day. (I said that for you)
Lots of people and I mean LOTS of people read my blog and I’m just as surprised as you are because I know they’re saying, “bitch” ….or “wtf”
Or, “is she f’ing serious?” or “poor Bhagavan Das” or “she needs help” or, “I knew something wasn’t right about her” or, “what a skank” or “I love you” you know people fall in love with me just as much as they hate me. It’s a push and pull thing- you know how you always want to kill the one you love the most, well that’s me. And they just keep coming back to mama…
Ego maniac. Why not? I think so. I’ve been ripping and tearing this funky body away but it doesn’t change a thing- it only makes me braver, bolder, more and more sexy. They can tell me what to do but it doesn’t work- and I lied in the hospital to get out (confession time) they had the calorie police on me forcing me to eat all this awful food- and when they would leave the room, I would just very stealthily flush it down the toilet and the doctor was so happy I ate and after a few days- RELEASE- well, I don’t eat hospital fluorescent orange grilled cheese sandwiches or rubber chicken – like that’s going to heal me. So I lied and deceived and I got my way. Not very spiritual huh guys? I’ve learned, like a mistaken fool that I can do it my way. I can undermine and underpin and pretend to understand. But it’s always just a game and I’m about to win your heart ok?
(I just did it again for you)
Oh, is poor little Michelle feeling sorry for herself again? Do you have a problem with that? Who should I talk about instead, you? Can I call you my friend or should I use your real name? You corner me and when that happens you know what I’ll do. Sting and bite. No really, I love you like the sun loves the sky- and this love of mine is as deep as your pockets – hahahahaha- when men think you want their money they really get nervous. Well, relax because money cannot buy love. We all know that. It can however buy quick sex. I’m so funny…are you mad at me yet?
I can’t stand my dogs. Sometimes I turn them into my enemies and we wage war. I threaten them with the humane society or a Craiglist “free dog” add and they’re just like, “F-U lady. And get that thumb in my mouth.” Well, yesterday it was almost the end. I should have just left them in a box at the rest stop- anyway, they almost killed me. YES. I blame them – my sweet little 5 pound victims- well you don’t know how wicked they can be- I’m their victim believe me. And they knew the branch hung low and they knew I didn’t see it and they set up the decoy and the play- like any team would do- tangling leashes, whining, talking a million miles an hour to distract me and it worked and SLAM- my forehead right into the tree! It HURT.
“F-U too you little trolls, you’re going straight to the pound tomorrow!!!”
But we all know tomorrow never comes…they really have me wrapped around their little dirty paws…I’m such a fool…and I was bleeding and I have a huge bump and bruise and cut right in the center of my forehead. I thought maybe I’ll die or pass out- but no such luck. So I’ve been on this one way ticket out of town thing since then. And I’m taking it all out on you…
Then no one could find me or know me or ask about BD anymore….but here I still am, it’s 3am and I’m sitting on a hotel bed in the dark, chihuahuas burrowed under the blankets… BD snoring…I’m running on one hour of sleep and I just can’t lay here waiting for the light anymore.
Thank you for being my friend.