December 8th, 2012

2013, cyd, new

"i'm the volume in your fucked up teenage band"

i thought Social Distortion would put me in a happy mood. but i put on "Don't Take Me for Granted" first and now i'm sitting here crying my eyes out.

this is best for everyone. i haven't talked to doc about it yet, he came home last night after calling and asking if we could start over. i thought i'd better calm down before i bring it up. but he's brought up a home before, it won't completely take him by surprise. it will surprise him that i'm on board now.

i woke up feeling like i had nothing to lose. i still feel that way, i just don't fucking care.

i almost OD-ed last night, but what's the point? i took a kitchen knife to a pizza and box instead. i'm going to have some explaining to do when doc goes to get a slice of pizza and finds it's been stabbed some 70 times.

but i didn't OD. and i didn't go over to my parent's house and kill them in their sleep. (i want them awake for their deaths, anyway) of course, i can't leave the house, so maybe that's not a big accomplishment. if they had been kind enough to come over, i'm sure i would have killed them. you know, out of concern for the world.
2013, cyd, new

"i'm your worn in leather jacket"

i've looked everywhere. it was hanging in my closet. my precious leather. the first punk item i bought myself. the same day i got my first pair of combat boots. it was 27 years old, soft as lambskin. it had chain maile on one shoulder and sex pistols and dead kennedys buttons on it. the lining was ripped out and it was the most comfy thing i owned.

now, those who know me know i have a back-up leather. but it was a gift from someone and it's way too big on me and not as soft and IT'S NOT MY LEATHER.

we left mike in the house overnight after telling him to leave and trusted he would do the right thing. but with the amount of stuff that was precious to me that's missing, i'm guessing the right thing never occurred to him.

i once stole $10 worth of pot from him. he made me pay him $60 for it. he ripped us off every chance he got and acted holier than thou. let's hear it for christlike love. if you need god to be a good person, you're not a good person.

now my goal is to somehow hunt him down. i'm sure i'll never get my leather or any of my stuff back, but i will get even with him. gods help him if i ever run into him. i will stab him so many times they will have trouble identifying the body. he's shown me enough horror movies. maybe if i take an eye and make him eat it.

i can't key his car, it's got a fucking alarm on it. i can, however spray paint it. i will find a way to terrorize him. he's got a lifetime of hurt and failure waiting for him and i will cause it. he called me a cunt and i promised him cunt was what he was going to get. getting thrown out of the house wasn't enough to humble him. someone needs to take him down.

i want to stab him in the throat and laugh while he screams. the very idea of him covered in his own blood makes me happy.

so this all started when i got drunk this morning and decided to go outside for a smoke. i went into my closet where i hung both my leathers and the special one was gone. i searched other closets, the floor of my own, my room, everywhere. i haven't gone to wear it since we moved in, so i didn't even notice until now. and i wondered how my closet door got opened the night we stayed at the apartment and mike stayed here.

so far, that's one logitech track ball (just the ball), the batteries out of my vibrator, and my precious leather. i think he owes me a finger, or at least an ear.

i feel so impotent. and violated. that leather had been through so much with me. so many shows, so many people touched it. every boy or girlfriend i ever had tried to take it from me and no one ever succeeded. until this fat balding 20 something loser came into my life.
2013, cyd, new

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2013, cyd, new

it's not just a jacket

i met rollins in it. johnette napolitano. john doe. rollins again. it's 27 years of punk history. with things decorating it that can't be replaced. i can remember the day i bought it. i spent an entire paycheck on it and the combat boots. i can't remember yesterday, but i remember buying that leather.

maybe if i call and ask him nicely, he'll give it back or at least tell me what he did with it. if not, nothing will stop me from getting even with him. i don't know how i'll do it. it will involve leaving the house. but all i can think of is ways to hurt him. and i have quite a list. starting with his most precious possession.

for three years we put up with his shit and his cat's shit and the last year was unbearable. he started the evil, i will finish it. most things i can let go, but if my leather is gone forever i don't know what i'll do.

when i left it would have been the only thing i took with me of value. now i'll have nothing.
2013, cyd, new

i've calmed down and sobered up

okay, so i'm stoned. at least i'm not drunk anymore. that was a shock to my system, it's been so long.

but i've calmed down. i'm going to call mike and ask him nicely if i can have my leather back. if that doesn't work, on to plan B. which involves tuna juice (thank you dear reader). i'm really not ready to go to prison over him, but i could handle a restraining order. i don't plan on terrorizing him long. and who knows, he may just give the leather back to me. i don't see that happening. i don't see him admitting it. but i will give him a chance.

i watched muppet xmas carol again. it made me happy. so i tweeted paul williams and told him i loved him and he is amazingly talented and thanked him for the years of joy. he "favorited" my tweet. that is so cool.

so i've got this back up leather with a history all its own. but i don't know any of it. so i have to make a little myself. i will wear it everywhere and let it absorb my experiences. it will never be soft like mine was. but i can get the buttons, well, buttons. not the same ones. the dead kennedy's one i made myself. the chain maile will be harder to replace. i don't know anyone who makes it and i am completely inept at it. it was just a swatch i pinned onto the shoulder, but it was protective, and cool. and it kept me from draping my messenger bag over my weak shoulder.

very few possessions mean that much to me. things i have that i love, sure, but i could pack them away for years being content knowing i have them. but that leather was an active part of my winter life. in my youth i always had it on, no matter the temperature, though i lived in PA at the time. it's like taking my doc martens, that would slay me. i wear those everywhere, have for 15 years. actually, more than that. jesus.

the rest of what i own, i was planning to leave in storage when i go. i don't want to take anything valuable or precious because the chances are too high that something bad will happen to them.

speaking of . . . as far as i can find out, there are waiting lists for group homes. which would work because that would give doc time to find a roommate. he'll need to make up the income he loses from me.

i get to live with crazy people. yay. i hate crazy people. i hate myself, i'm not limited.

doc thought i was going to have the doctor check me into the hospital when i went for my appointment. if i keep spinning out of control, that might be a good idea. i have bad thoughts and i really don't want to get to the point of acting on them unless i'm in a place i'm protected. there's too much stuff to hurt myself with here and i am unsupervised all the time.

if i do snap and hurt mike, at least i'll have insanity on my side. but i really don't see that happening. first of all, i'd have to leave the house. that's a huge obstacle i don't think is worth conquering just for him.

time for news and burn notice. after that, tv goes to shit. but until 8 i'm set. then at 8 maybe i can find some festive thing to watch. i still haven't seen white christmas, and that is a must.