If you are reading this manual then you have become interested in the art of stalking.
Congratulations on your newly discovered calling.
It will take much dedication and practice to master this art form...but if you are willing to put in the effort and long hours you too can become a master stalker.
Before you begin be sure that you are fully equipped with the tools provided by the kit.
Check to make sure you have everything.
You will need:
1. the hottest casual outfit you own
2. a scarf, glasses and any incognito accessory
3. cell phone
4. pseudo-confidence that hides immense vulnerability
5. ipod
6. PASSION
After securing the check list you are now ready to begin your stalking.
Once you are all dolled up, create a playlist that triggers relationship nostalgia. Select only songs that remind you of the "good old days," of the best days when your relationship was at its prime. Stalking can be a very rewarding hobby if it is done amidst immense positive passion. Stalking becomes a violent, grotesque sport when it is performed amidst pain, betrayal, and heartache. Do not let these dark elements take control of the art form, or it will surely create a black canvas that drowns out the vibrancy of love.
Stalking has a lot of negative connotations attached to it. Do not be discouraged, friend, for these misconceptions and stereotypes will be dismantled with our efforts. You know what type of stalker you are. A righteous one. A benevolent one. A SANE one?
Put your headphones on.
PLAY.
Crank up the music loud enough to still hear your surroundings.
Walk with purpose.
Your speed should suggest you have somewhere important to be, but you are not in a rush.
When you near the location take out your phone and pretend you are texting this imaginary person you are so eager to meet with. Be flirtatious in the way you communicate with the phone, in your body language, the way you connect with your surroundings...
but at all times keep your eyes open and wait.
Wait for an absolution that will never come.
and let it destroy you the way it does time and time again.
the way he always does.
and you'll try to follow these guidelines and fail miserably because there are no guidelines to stalking.
it is the manifestation of passion gone array...
it is strategic chaos.
and you are chaos without him.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
When you used to call me mama
"So whatsup mama?"
"Mama"
That's what you called me.
Sin nombre
Nameless.
Don't call me anything, but mama.
Im nobody but mama
Im your mama
And that's everything.
I can hear you now, always, your voice resonating within me...like striking chords, the lamenting strings of my heart.
How could I have ever forgotten what you sound like...
"Mama"
I want to speak your language and hear your vernacular and I want to be deaf and mute unless it's to hear you...
I can hear you now, always, like a somber lullaby and its symphony and cacophony and consonance and dissonance and noise. And its grandeur and its bliss and strikes me dead like a pseuda coma and peace.
"Mama"
And when I hear it im no longer here but there, so far into nostalgia ill never return to wherever we really are. Im mama now and ill never be me. I never want to be me again.
"Mama"
That's what you called me.
Sin nombre
Nameless.
Don't call me anything, but mama.
Im nobody but mama
Im your mama
And that's everything.
I can hear you now, always, your voice resonating within me...like striking chords, the lamenting strings of my heart.
How could I have ever forgotten what you sound like...
"Mama"
I want to speak your language and hear your vernacular and I want to be deaf and mute unless it's to hear you...
I can hear you now, always, like a somber lullaby and its symphony and cacophony and consonance and dissonance and noise. And its grandeur and its bliss and strikes me dead like a pseuda coma and peace.
"Mama"
And when I hear it im no longer here but there, so far into nostalgia ill never return to wherever we really are. Im mama now and ill never be me. I never want to be me again.
Monday, December 14, 2009
FRAGILE....---->---->DAMAGED GOODS
Carry the package upright.
Please notice the the "FRAGILE" label tapped all around.
Be very very gentle.
And by every means necessary DO NOT, i repeat, DO NOT, drop this package.
But he let me slip
and he let me fall
and i broke.
Now.
Now.
I am damaged goods...
and I'll never love again.
"Ever since you I've been dead inside. I guess that's why I keep trying to go back to you...because I can't feel shit. My heart doesn't work anymore. You fucked me up"
This is what I told the HIM from long ago...the one this blog started with, the reason for the birth of this blog, the one I wrote about and then left behind and the one i pretended to forget about and the one i never stopped thinking about. THE ONE. The one I'll never get over because at least he reminds me I'm still human.
I thought I was healed...that I had finally let go of all the love and the hurt and the everything he was to me...but his absence only makes me think of him more. Returning often to the days when I was human...when I was a woman. I return to those days when my heart was simultaneously filled with so much joy and so much sorrow...but to feel is an amazing thing. I'd rather feel heartache, sincere heartache, than to be tormented by the stoicism my life now exhibits. I've been condemned to a life after love with no love after love.
I feel nothing.
I never feel anything.
And if for some reason my heart skips a beat for someone, in a week my heart stops beating.
BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I FLAT LINE.
But But it is through HIM that I am able to feel again. Only when I think of him, speak to him do all contradicting and ambivalent feelings come flooding all at once. Speaking to him is overwhelming but sometimes I just need to be alive....Sometimes I want to live in his bad romance, in his sick, in his nasty....then to be dead in this reality.
I want revenge! I WANT HIS SWEET REVENGE!
I told him this...I want so bad to hurt him...because hurting him makes me realize that I still love him. That I never stopped loving him. You only hurt the things you love, the things that you are passionate about...the things that hurt you.
This pain follows me wherever I go, making me incapable of feeling for another person the way I felt for him. I can never let go of this pain....It never goes away.
I want to love him until it hurts me....and hurt him until it kills me.
I want...
I need to be alive again...
So if that means allowing him to destroy me to dismantle the emotionless wall....
then....
BREAK ME
BREAK ME
BREAK ME
OVER AND OVER AGAIN
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
FORBIDDEN LUST
No.
No No No No No.
No.
You can't like him.
Well, I don't like him...I just...I'm just curious is all. I just want to see what he is like...I just want a taste.
No.
No No No No No.
No.
You can't want him.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Delicious Toxins
Yummmmmmmm
MMMMMMMMM
DELICIOUS
The thought of it in my mouth makes me salivate...nothing can compare to the enormous pleasure I get from it. Oral fixation, oral gratification....goodies oh those goodies....
Yes its better than sex. It is more comforting than his touch...than his embrace...because food, food is always there when I need it.
Food was my first love.
And you never forget your first love.
And you never let go....
I am not sure when or how it happened but food filled the void. When was the first void?
When my dad was never home. Growing up, the only way to guide him back home was through my appetite.
"Papi, I'm hungry."
And from the end of the earths he would reach my door, McDonalds in hand.
When I did poorly on an exam or had a social dispute over my weight...My mom brought me McDonalds and candy.
When I had my first crush and he did not like me, My mom took me to see the only thing that never judged me, that always loved me, the only thing that knew how to love me the way i needed, the way i craved, the way no one will ever love me.
When I had my first boyfriend and consequently and inevitably my first heartbreak, it was indulgences that healed my heart.
And when I was lonely and bored...it was food that was always there to accompany me. Food never ditches me. He is never too busy for me...
When I want to numb myself from the heartache and stress of my daily life....when I want to punish myself for wanting so badly to have a man to love, punish myself for shopping too much, for being self absorbed and egotistic...punishing myself for allowing myself to be caught in empty relationships and allowing myself to use and be used and god settling for less when it leaves me so drained every time.
How is it that something that loves me so much, that is always there for me....hurt me so much?
Food is like the men I have known all my life. He is there momentarily for instant gratification and when he is gone, the consequences of a full stomach and an empty heart weighs heavily on me. It is like eating a bag rocks that sit at the pit of your stomach like an anchor.
I can't move.
MMMMMMMMM
DELICIOUS
The thought of it in my mouth makes me salivate...nothing can compare to the enormous pleasure I get from it. Oral fixation, oral gratification....goodies oh those goodies....
Yes its better than sex. It is more comforting than his touch...than his embrace...because food, food is always there when I need it.
Food was my first love.
And you never forget your first love.
And you never let go....
I am not sure when or how it happened but food filled the void. When was the first void?
When my dad was never home. Growing up, the only way to guide him back home was through my appetite.
"Papi, I'm hungry."
And from the end of the earths he would reach my door, McDonalds in hand.
When I did poorly on an exam or had a social dispute over my weight...My mom brought me McDonalds and candy.
When I had my first crush and he did not like me, My mom took me to see the only thing that never judged me, that always loved me, the only thing that knew how to love me the way i needed, the way i craved, the way no one will ever love me.
When I had my first boyfriend and consequently and inevitably my first heartbreak, it was indulgences that healed my heart.
And when I was lonely and bored...it was food that was always there to accompany me. Food never ditches me. He is never too busy for me...
When I want to numb myself from the heartache and stress of my daily life....when I want to punish myself for wanting so badly to have a man to love, punish myself for shopping too much, for being self absorbed and egotistic...punishing myself for allowing myself to be caught in empty relationships and allowing myself to use and be used and god settling for less when it leaves me so drained every time.
How is it that something that loves me so much, that is always there for me....hurt me so much?
Food is like the men I have known all my life. He is there momentarily for instant gratification and when he is gone, the consequences of a full stomach and an empty heart weighs heavily on me. It is like eating a bag rocks that sit at the pit of your stomach like an anchor.
I can't move.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
SOMETIMES LOVE...
For the past several months I sang "I don't need no love in my life!" I was convinced that cupid could only be a fallen angel, a messenger of the devil, the keeper of all things that break your spirit. How could cupid possibly be a creation of god when sometimes love gets you down? Love has beaten me so often that I could never possibly believe in it again. But love is like giving birth....when you experience it you promise you'll never go through that pain ever again....but time passes and you just forget the pain. You can't possibly fathom how much it truly hurts but then again love comes like an unplanned pregnancy and there you are again vomiting every morning and taking huge iron pills and getting wet nipples and wanting to just die as you push this 6-9 pound creature out of your vag! what the hell! I ripped the hell out of of my vag again!
This new guy has cupid on my ass! and I'm already finding myself vomiting in the morning.
I'm love sick
am I love sick.
This new guy has cupid on my ass! and I'm already finding myself vomiting in the morning.
I'm love sick
am I love sick.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
It smells like a coat of fresh paint, get a whiff
One gallon of semi-gloss peacock tail paint $23
One gallon of semi-gloss lemon poundcake paint $23
One quart of semi-gloss bonfire paint $15
Two sea sponges $20
Many many rollers and brushes $20
Walls that make up a home...PRICELESS.
My life has been painted with a fresh layer of paint. Vibrant colors that replace the once dull muted colors that have been weathered away by time. My life is just so beautiful right now I barely recognize it.
Its amazing how just a week or so ago I wrote an entry, a very dark entry about headless horsemen and sleepy hallow and my hypothetical dismemberment...I was so sleepy and so hallow. I was almost dead. Then suddenly the winds of change blew in my direction, a warm breeze, melting my heart, warming my soul, making me feel alive again. I closed my eyes, finally fearless of change, that once crippling inevitable entity that has stopped me from progress time and time again, and let it lift me into the sky and take me to heights I had dreamt of reaching.
For the first time since 2088 was sold. For the first time in my entire life I left Ryer avenue behind. As you now know from previous blogs, Ryer held me captive, restraining and keeping me in the confines of mediocracy. "How could you want to blend in, when you were meant to stand out" I once heard this in a film and it has stuck with me since. I am not meant for normal existance but to soar beyond the limitations of normalcy. Im not ordinary, but extraordinary.
My house was painted with the colors of fabulousity to reflect its inhabitant. My walls are painted with the brushes of self. They are decorated with my words, my personality, my taste, my style, my love.
I am finally home.
I haven't been able to call a place home, I mean really home, since 2088 and now finally im free. In stages I let go of HIM, And then my cousins and excess baggage friends, and negativity and then picked up some great things along the way. And it wasn't until I left the past in the past, did I find the hidden path home. It was always there, now, finally uncovered.
One gallon of semi-gloss lemon poundcake paint $23
One quart of semi-gloss bonfire paint $15
Two sea sponges $20
Many many rollers and brushes $20
Walls that make up a home...PRICELESS.
My life has been painted with a fresh layer of paint. Vibrant colors that replace the once dull muted colors that have been weathered away by time. My life is just so beautiful right now I barely recognize it.
Its amazing how just a week or so ago I wrote an entry, a very dark entry about headless horsemen and sleepy hallow and my hypothetical dismemberment...I was so sleepy and so hallow. I was almost dead. Then suddenly the winds of change blew in my direction, a warm breeze, melting my heart, warming my soul, making me feel alive again. I closed my eyes, finally fearless of change, that once crippling inevitable entity that has stopped me from progress time and time again, and let it lift me into the sky and take me to heights I had dreamt of reaching.
For the first time since 2088 was sold. For the first time in my entire life I left Ryer avenue behind. As you now know from previous blogs, Ryer held me captive, restraining and keeping me in the confines of mediocracy. "How could you want to blend in, when you were meant to stand out" I once heard this in a film and it has stuck with me since. I am not meant for normal existance but to soar beyond the limitations of normalcy. Im not ordinary, but extraordinary.
My house was painted with the colors of fabulousity to reflect its inhabitant. My walls are painted with the brushes of self. They are decorated with my words, my personality, my taste, my style, my love.
I am finally home.
I haven't been able to call a place home, I mean really home, since 2088 and now finally im free. In stages I let go of HIM, And then my cousins and excess baggage friends, and negativity and then picked up some great things along the way. And it wasn't until I left the past in the past, did I find the hidden path home. It was always there, now, finally uncovered.
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