Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers

on spoken word and other junk

i think felix got out. he doesn't seem to be here. we put water out for feral cat last night. i know the ferals around here drink out of the pool.

i just walked up and got a soda. it's getting hot out there. but it's windy so it isn't that bad until you stop. then all the heat catches up with you.

the rose on my mini bush is blooming. and no, that's not code.

felix wasn't outside, not that i could see. i walked out through the gate and looked for him all the way up that way. then i came home through the hole in the fence and went by the pool to see if he was up there. no felix. now i am calling him to see if he's inside. and shock of shock, he came to me. yay, he's inside!

that new video of bin laden is harsh and sad. a sad old man sitting wrapped in a blanket, watching himself on tv. there's your hero, al queda. wouldn't let his kids drink pepsi, but dyes his hair and beard. hypocrisy, how i love thee. what made him dye his hair? a man who rails against all trappings of the west, caught up in western vanity. makes me feel like all of his preaching and simple living was just a load of bullshit. do as i say, not as i do.

doc went to bed around 8, which means he'll be up around 2. i had a panic attack before he got up yesterday so i took one and a half xanax, which left me so over sedated, doc couldn't understand a word i was saying. i had to keep repeating really slowly. i eventually gave up on talking. but i was nice and calm. and that was what mattered. doc can't understand me half the time anyway. my speech since losing my teeth has suffered. that's why i want implants. i'd like to go back to spoken word. i can't write very well right now, but i have much material. and i know i'll start writing again.

spoken word made me happy. having to listen to everyone else's poetry was kind of a drag, i never liked poetry. i particularly dislike stuff that rhymes. give me a free form poem any time. getting to open mic nights might prove a problem, but i have to get my teeth fixed anyway first, before i worry about that stuff. there was no greater joy to me than standing on a stage with an audience riveted by my every word. it was such a rush. especially the night the discovery channel was filming and wanted to use my infamous "pussy poem" but could i come up with a different word? no. we decided nothing else would work for the impact and like that i was censored. it was great. the thing they were filming never made it to air, which is a pity. i would have liked to have seen more open mic nights from around the country. that was at a poetry slam. i wore leather pants and a bustier that night and all the judges save one were women. not my kind of crowd apparently. i lost that slam. it didn't matter to me, it was all getting up and reading poems to me. the judging didn't make my performance better or worse, i gave my all that night, just like every other.

i can't even listen to my spoken word recordings, they break my heart because i can't make any more of them. though there are a lot more than i remember. if you want to check them out, they're good. you can hear in my voice how i love doing it and why i would miss it so much now. i'd love to do the chloe poem i wrote a few weeks ago. i'm that in love with that piece. it will be the first piece i record and add to my podcast when i get my teeth fixed.

doc and i have gotten along thus far this weekend. one more night. i can do it. just stay quiet and do as i'm told. his allergies are acting up and he's not feeling good as a result. knowing this, because i learned it last weekend, i can keep my distance from him. let him have the remote. clean the bloody kitchen again. and make coffee. other than that, just sit quietly on the couch and keep to myself and try not to act crazy.

ooh, massive coughing fit. allergies. damn walks in the fresh air. i had just enough cough syrup for one dose. should be enough. this will end at sunset. then around ten we can open the vent in the door again and not have to smoke huddled next to the fireplace. blowing our smoke up it. pain in the ass rules.

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