what?

gotta go on hiatus, that's what. i'll be back in august.

what makes a tragedy?

for three years, three months, and give or take three or four days there has been two of us trying to make this shit here worth one more minute of existing within it.

but i'm tired of existing. it ain't worth it just to 'be' no mo.

..........i want to...........
cuz simply being ain't synonymous with
being free, and
simply being don't guarantee i'm
being me, and
simply being means me only
seeing my dreams
instead of
being my dreams

and somewhere during the construction of 'we', i've misplaced the blueprints to 'me'.

used to be
being with you was a rush...lust thrusting blushes into us, brushing up against breaths left panting in erectness, a deluge of flames flooding our bodies until we were burning from pore to floor. our urgently uttered 'mores' ignited higher fires that culminated with carnal combustion before we crumbled exhaustedly into a heap of smoldering embers, broken 'damns' crumbling from our lips in breathless hushes, the debris of our bodies left floating in the afterglow.

now it
trickles like a fickle dick faking ejaculation just to end the copulation with a dry, disgruntled cunt.

used to be
talking to you was a feast i was eager to partake of. i savored your consonants simmered in smoky syllables, nibbling on your succulent murmurs marinated in sincerity until they were so tender they melted right off of your lips. then we'd finish the meal by feeding each other honey-dipped endearments, sipping after-dinner whispers until we were drunk with fascination.

now it's
gnawing on gristled exchanges passing for palpable rations.

what's worse is that maybe what used to be never was.

maybe i've manipulated the remains of these memories like a scientist trying to re-write history, dating the origins of the fossils to a place and time of passion when they were really found in complacency. perhaps the bones we now pick with each other are so brittle because we created this from mind-made materials, determined to mold it into what we wanted it to be instead of letting it evolve into what it was supposed to be.

was it me who embellished our moments together with seconds made of paste?
was it me who encrusted our kisses with explosives?
was it me who sewed significant sentiment into our caresses?
was it me who beaded our breaths with need?
was it me who doctored our desire with devotion?

was this really not a divine design but instead fabrications threaded together in my own mind?

i can speculate about our past until blue hues flush my face of saner make-up. it won't change the fact that in the midst of this break down, the clear message is we should break up.

cuz whether or not our past was fashioned from magic, the fact is, i mourn the time lost more than i more the loss of 'us'.

and that's what's truly tragic.

when an idle mind goes too far...

it started off harmless enough, really.

i was laying on the couch in the living room, a bowl of cereal cradled in one hand, a spoon full of soggy fruity pebbles fisted in the other hand while making it's way slowly towards my mouth. on the television was one of my favorite movies of all time, cars.




so what if i'd just seen the movie a week ago. so what if i've seen it perhaps 20 times. that's what happens when you've got the h-bo channels. how many times have YOU seen excalibur?!? yeah, i thought so...

i'm quite familiar with all of the characters, from the hot shot ligh.tning mcq.ueen to the sarcastic town attorney sally porsche to the rusted tow truck 'mater...i could go on and on but i'm already writing too much on this topic as it is.

anyway, i'm sitting there, slurping on fruity pebbles (cuz you know the damn things get soggy as soon as they hit the damn milk), watching cars and enjoying myself. next thing you know my mind starts wandering into adultville where rational questions are asked despite the fact that i'm watching a cartoon.

questions like:

1. where are the sexual organs? i sat there for ten minutes trying to figure this out. the only protruding part i can think of is the antenna and if that's the sex organ, the female cars are being left woefully dissatisfied. it would seem quite obvious (at least to me) that the muffler is the anal cavity, but where is the um, other cavity? i have no idea. maybe they only perform anal sex, which brings me to the next question...

2. how do they reproduce? there are no humans on this planet, so i'm really clueless. there was a vague reference to a 'manufacturer'. is that their god? if so, that still doesn't explain how they reproduce. i mean, if they've only got anuses, they couldn't possibly give birth, could they? i can't imagine someone giving birth out of her ass. perhaps the baby cars just magically appear on the garage doorstep of some couple, deposited by the car stork. maybe the cars manually produce themselves, like humans and the cloning thing.

3. why are there so many men and so few women? 'lightning' ends up in rad.iat.or spri.ngs, a town consisting of eight male cars and only three female cars, one of them too old to get her biz on. this would lead me to believe either the two females are exhausted because of the sexual demands placed upon them or the guys are getting busy amongst themselves. i detected a closer than platonic relationship between the hippie van and the army jeep. it wouldn't be too much of a stretch for the hippie van to get the army jeep high and then just turn the dude out. also, anyone can see the fire engine is gay cuz he likes flowers. hetero guys don't like flowers unless it's given to a female in exchange for forgiving him for some dumb shit he just tried to get away with.

4. where were lightning's parents? this is supposed to be the greatest day of his life, and they're nowhere to be found?!? see, this kinda supports my theory that perhaps there is a car lab somewhere where cars create other cars and just send them on their way. this would also mean there is NO sex taking place, as the only reason folk have sex is to create babies. and if this is the case...

5. why are these cars so damn happy?!? hippy car done put something in the gas cuz ain't no way they could be that happy without sex, even the anal kind *shudders*

6. why the black chick always gotta own some kind of eatery? come on, we know the car that owned the gasoline station was black. if she had a neck, she'd have been rolling it everytime she spoke. they made her just sassy enough, made her chrome grill just voluptuous enough, so that black folk knew we were represented. well thank you di.sn.ey. now you can go back and correct ta.rzan cuz you know he is black, too.

7. why didn't they put the black chick car with the italian car? we all know italian cars LOVE black cars (although i won't complain about her being hooked up with the latino. gotta love those lowriders...)

8. how come the imported asian cars are depicted as obnoxious and mean-spirited? then again, ninja cars wouldn't have worked with this storyline, so i guess asian folk should be glad the stereotype for them has expanded to include something other than that of buffoon, exotic sexual whore, zen master or martial arts expert.

9. why does 'mater have buck teeth? don't you get that from sucking on your fingers? 'mater didn't have fingers. did he get the buck teeth from sucking on too many antennaes? was he really the town whore?!?

10. why couldn't lightning have won the race THEN gone back and gotten 'the king'?!? what, did that make him more honorable than the average car? hell nah. he did that for sally cuz he wanted to impress her. then again, why would he want to do that? they don't have sex, so what else is a chick car good for? they've already got 'mater to polish off the antennaes.

i am sure i'm not the only one who has ever wondered these same things while watching this movie. i encourage you to provide your answers to these burning questions so that we all may be able to sleep better at night.