A Spent Gent

They say women are fickle.

Ask that professorial gent:

“Please, miss, a nipple pic

before my pickle is spent?”

Too late!

Was it my trite poetry?

My less than witty prose?

Did you drown in grandiosity

garnished with philosophy?

Maybe I’ll never know.

Has it happened again? The last time I heard from K it was before the surgery at 10:30 this morning. Could she have coded when they tested the defibrillator on her? She went in for a bivascular pacer and a defibrillator. She also found out she has sarcoidosis in her heart and lungs. I’m going to have to message her sister and I’m dreading it . Is she in the ICU?

What if she goes to the hospital, something goes wrong, and I am alone forever?

With a crown and a half falling out in the bottom half of my front teeth, I am so West Virginia Chic now. And my personality is shot. I think I need a new one.

I tried going on a joke panel and made a total ass of myself, and even though I put on make-up, I still looked subhuman. I wasn’t funny. I just looked like someone dragged in from a homeless encampment. There definitely is a face for radio and a voice for vocaloid.

The last in the series of deaths I think happened today two years ago. My first grade teacher got killed by a young man drunk driver.

I think my Canadian friend flaked on me after I accidentally showed his number to my troll friends. One of them tricked me. Supposedly, they told him the actual turn of events, but why should I believe? Every time I call, no answer. He’s probably going to drink himself to death soon and then I’d think The Lisa Curse ™ strikes again.

Honestly, a young trans woman upped and died of strep related sepsis recently, and if we had been friends, I’d have thought The Curse killed her. What really gets me is if I’d seen her Tweets I might have been able to warn her. All the signs were there. I preach about Sepsis to people a fuck ton, like some folks spread the gospel.

I think Oscar up and died 3 years ago on the 20th. I forgot. I spend a lot of time wondering why K. Is acting pissy at me. She’s going to therapy now, but can someone like her change? She doesn’t even realize that about 20 percent of her behavior is a bit…uh… maladaptive. Sometimes I think she feels a bit sorry, not enough to say so. But if this extra pacemaker and defibrillator gives her a new lease on life, maybe she’ll get better in other ways.

Maybe I’m just crashing. I took a little bit of Addy to be less anxious talking on that panel. It might have been better I had retained my social anxiety so I wouldn’t have been such a prattling SPED. I don’t think I was outright obnoxious, but I could’ve been. I’m such a fucking attention whore that I am obnoxious most of the time. Sometimes negative attention is better than being nothing. I am more aware than people think. I look, sound, and act dumb as a brick, but if things don’t immediately become clear to me, the full import of words might come to me later. And I mull over implications like a cow chewing cud.

My YouTube is up to 170 subs from 162, well that’s pretty sweet. And all just for being talentless.

This song is pretty meaningful, and even though the slight reverb makes my already childish voice even more so, I kinda like how it came out.

I’ve had more than 1 friend in my life who “didn’t give a single fuck about me,” and got a little reminder of one today.

Melancholy Good Friday

It’s Good Friday and I’m dueling with myself. Hope comes in slivers and is hard for me to grasp. Hopelessness is far easier to cling to, all the while I’m dreaming of being someone. Someone people want to be around, someone loved. I sometimes wish I could fall asleep and wake up in a much different reality. I’ve been blogging now for 13 years as of March 25 and will continue until my heart finally gives up on this obese body, and no one will remember me.

Writing Prompt -What is Your Middle Name

What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance?

My middle name is Ann like my mother before me.

My grandmother had no middle name,

Zoulean was long enough for a first name and a middle.

They decided to spare me of making my name a riddle or butchered up like my Mother’s: Pat.

Lisa Ann it was, short and sweet, plain and dull, but easy enough to repeat.

Writing Prompt: What is the Last Thing You Learned

What is the last thing you learned?

With all my relatives dead, et al., I’ve taken to stalking my relatives long deceased and otherwise online. My mother’s side of the family were in the Domesday Book and our surname is from the family seat in some tiny English village. Does that mean my forebears were the gentry or serfs, I can tell you not, but I guess the former? There are some sirs way way back on familysearch.org, but who knows how true that is?
On my father’s side, long before they beget a continuous line of drunks, they came over from France during the Norman invasion and there were some sirs there as well, some in Scotland. One of my relatives in 1830 married a half Cherokee woman, who was related to Mary Musgrave who was active in founding Georgia, or something like that.
I see that my distant relative is no longer running a newspaper. I always wanted to know this woman, but she may have heard bad things about me from Cousin Charles, the great disowner of second cousins. I’m tempted to hit friend request, but am sure to only meet. disapprobation.