One of the Many Nesting Places of the Ever Elusive Lisa Beast...

I don't know most of my relatives' names, but I'd never dare tell them.

And I'm too scared to ask my fiancee's own name; Terrified to ask how we ended up together anyway.

Oi. What's goin' down, dahlings?



So, would'ya' do me?

This is a final entry, to late really...

I've deleted much.... but got bored in the process. Don't bother searching here. I'm done. My further writings will be done hard bound.

Before long, I'll be gone. And I see no reason for such a foolish, childish online journal.

I've moved on. I suggest you do too. Unless you're 14 years old... then who cares. in a few years, no one, including you will give three shits what you've written.

Ciao.

xo,
Lisa

I am all sorts of fucked up right now. I am a zombie without the decayed flesh. I just shamble about my apartment inbetween feline-esque naps. I've two (albeit short) papers due in two days plus a score of things to do tomorrow, but I've not yet had the ambition to even attempt any sort of disection of ancient art.

Livejournal itself has little pull either. Likewise in the case of MSN. I have no real need for these things. I make the effort to see my friends, but I don't feel like I'm really there. I don't walk away with any memories or positive feelings. Not to say seeing those I claim to love is a bad thing. It just feel very surreal. Like I'm watching myself react almost mechanically to social cues.

I chase the cats around the apartment trying to coax them into hugging me. Because I feel lonely here when I can't see them. When I can't touch them. I just sleep, sprawled, unwashed and unkempt, on my bed with a single hand curled around the unresisting paw of a delicate male demi-kitten. And I feel safe then. Well, almost.

I smoke to much pot. Currently. I've been so scared to not get all messed up. I don't want to really feel the full weight of the guilt that accompanies eating. When I'm high I can forget about it and binge, and blame it on the drug, and not on me. I tried to stop smoking for a day or two and all my thoughts were consumed by the urge to damage myself and acute insomnia.

So I smoked and things felt an awful lot better.

But I do, I smoke to much. I leave my bed too little. I'm rarely even inclined to reach out past my pillow, to the nightstand beyond to take up my anti-depressants and ever-present can of something-or-other.

I need to tell Joey to help me. I don't know how. But I feel like he's the only one with the appropriate access to me now to do so.

I wish I had a cigarette and a cup of soup. But I've already had half a can of soup to settle my stomach and a 100 calorie-pack of popcorn.

I haven't answered my mother's calls in days, over a week at least. I didn't want her to hear me all fucked up, either giggling or sobbing. She's got enough to deal with. But I'm probably worrying her. I'm just pulling a Patrick. What a fuckin' hypocrite I am.

Sitting and watching old Ghostbusters episodes and whining on and on.

I wish Joey were home. I wish Joey never left. I wish I could wrap my fingers around his wrist like I do Andy's little paw, and not let go. I don't want to float away. Or, if I do, I'd like to take him with me.

My dad is really, fucking, sick. This is way beyond lame now. He's in the hospital and can't even eat Jello. I'm paranoid. So is Mom. Even Patrick and Bradford went to visit. But we've got to be positive. It's not just a cliche. We just have too. I called Dad at the hospital and he was crying on the phone about how scared he was.

I'm scared too now. He kept off-handedly talking about never coming home, and not seeing me graduate from university. I'm crying now. I know he's okay. He just let him get so sick he needs the doctors to look after him 24-7 now. I used to do that too. A few days of drugs and IV and he'll be fine.

He's going for bloodwork again tomorrow, to look for rarer abnormalities, I guess. And a bone scan. That freaks me out in so many ways. He just mumbled about it being protocol. But it's not. They're looking for Bone Cancer. That's what those scans are for. I'm not fucking stupid.

Mom told me how quiet the house sounded. How she was scared of every noise. Because now those little fucks that hate her and keep trashing her cafeteria have moved onto private property. If they ever hurt her, especially now, I'll end each and every one of their lives in the most horrific, painful, tortuous way possible. I offered her Thumpy XP. My patience with them peaked a long while ago... but now my temper is out of control.

Dad told me to activate my credit card and go to dinner with Joey. I may just do that.

Everyone's got shit in their lives. I'm not a lot different. So I'll buckle down and concentrate on school work and my weight goals. I'll keep picking up Xmas gifts... I'll stick to my fruit fast until the end of the week (at least). I'll study for my midterms. I'll talk to Mom every night, and hopefully Dad. I'll go out with Joey. I'll shop. I'll see my friends.

Everything will be O.K.

My mornings are so fucking lazy. I wake up around 7ish and lay about in the crater I call my bed, daydreaming of what I'll cook for supper later that day, cuddling Edie under the covers and re-reading The Coast for the millionth time. Perfect.

It look dreary out. But I love grey days. And Edie's lounging on the windowsill, chirping at the pigeons.

I'm looking foreward to seeing my favorite folks again tomorrow. I need to dump all the music out of my MP3player and refill it with my ska and reggae collection. Perfect for blocking out the noise in The Link and studying. I've also got to haul my bottom over to the hairdressers today and get this mess tidied up. Not to mention I've got to dye it tonight too. My hair will be traumatized.

I may splurge on a couple potatoes tonight so I can make up a batch of homefries for Joey and I. Other than that, I kinda' live on oatmeal.

I hope mail comes soon. Mom said she mailed me cards and parcels. I'm excited. I'm also a bit of a loser.
I can't beleive Bob and the boys are all up and gone in a couple weeks. Joey and I have to head down to the valley on Saturday night for their going away party.

I feel saddish. I do. Cheer up, Lisa-Beast. Go eat some rainbows.

Oi, anyone out there wanna head to supper with me at the vegan restaurant down near pizza cornor sometime soon? I've got a wicked craving for some mushroom curry and basmati rice.

EDIT: 13 Things I love:

1) Super-short bangs.
2) Playgrounds at night.
3) Parcels.
4) Stickers, markers and stationary.
5) Rum-flavoured cigars.
6) Pumpkins.
7) Becca, Erika, Amy and Joey. (And prolly a few more).
8) Inari sushi.
9) My kitties.
10) Celebrating holidays at inappropriate times.
11) Pot and old videotapes of 80s cartoons.
12) Facial piercings.
13) Vegan/vegetarian cooking.

Now, the million dollar question: What does this list depict me as if you either didn't know me personally, or were able to pretend I were a stranger. I'm interested. Make yer own list and I too would gladly answer.

Erika, do you have any plans to be bored tonight, because I do. Wanna' be bored together by chance?

EDIT NUMBA' 2: HA! I just realized that tomorow I have one class at 11AM and the next at 7PM. POOR planning. Oh well. I'm gonna register for another credit's worth of courses anyway. I may well hafta' do that tonight. La Dee Da.

EDIT NUMBA' 3: Signed up for another credit. Tomorrow I have ANOTHER 2 1/2 hour class that end 6 minute prior to my OTHER 1 1/2 hour class. Haggard. But it should be interesting. And I am waitlisted for the other credit for next semester. I'm not overly concerned though.

And for yer viewing pleasure... I present the with a photo from my exclusive collection. Har har har.


I'm mutherfuckin' Spider-Woman. And I habitually sex up a redhead. Fancy that.

What a fucking good day yesterday. But damn that Erika-Love. I THOUGHT she was slipping off to the bathroom. Little did I know she paid for my dinner when she, myself and G-Spot when to Momoya's. What a choice doll, eh? Mucho lovin's.

PS: Best fucking picture ever of the boy's reaction to sushi. Also, the nori has an almost not-there texture which is quite palatable for those sushi lovers that, like me, can't chew through really papery nori. Must snag some tuna rolls and inari relatively soon with MY boy.

Also, The playground was fun. And I chased ducks. And saw the fat goose again. Fucking lazy thing. Pick yer gut up off the ground and learn to fight for yer food like all the other Public Garden birds.

And after, I chilled on home and popped on my favorite Bob Marley album and zoned out in the bathtub. Then promptly lay down and passed out. Blissful.

I've been currently involved in romping about with the kitties though. Edie and I share a common vibe. We accidentally woke up the boys though. So I stole Andy and left that grumpy sloth of a Joey on the couch. Then we romped s'more. And I feed them treats. And then Edie and I rolled around all over the floor mewing.

What species am I?

My TO PICK UP list for next week:

1) Cute wallet from Wal-Mart with the rainbow hearts all over it.
2) 50 pack of crayola markers. (For only 6.99 at Staples!)
3) Possibly more lollipops.

Lick me. I'm like cavities.

It's straightening a lil' but not much. But I'm growing to accept it for what it is. I'll let it heal and possibly repierce after Xmas.

Quickly: Last day of work at Winners fer'eva'. Rad-gasm. Now shower me with love because I deem it necessary.

Okay. So. Just got home from Maxwell's where Joey and I put in an appearance for Erika's birthday dealie. And... Depressed. Um... REALLY depressed.

So. Just to clarify: I CANNOT drink. I have completely given up drinking. If you were to offer to buy me all the alcohol I wanted, I would say NO. It hurts. Drinking physically hurts me too much to do. THEREFORE, going out to DRINK, is NOT fun for me. Yes, I like to see folks but you try and tell me when everyone's out dancing and drinking at a club that it's FUN to be a depressed sober one at 4AM.

Also: I HAVE NO FRIENDS. Yes. You heard me. NONE. Nada. Zip. I never see anyone at all and my BEST FRIEND doesn't EVER seem to give a shit about visiting me. Oh NO, she can pop up all over the place for any other reason, but not good ol' Lisa. Much loves though 'cause the next week you'll be stolen.

And no, I'm sorry, as much as I want to sit around a do drugs with you Amy-cakes, it's gotta' happen during periods of time that I don't need to very quickly recooperate from it. Drugs tend to fuck around with my prescriptions too much and just a night is no longer enough to reclaim my sanity like lucky others. And next week is gonna' be a haggard workweek as it is.

I'm sorry. I guess I'm just inaccessible. I'm probably a fucking bitch too. Whatever. I don't CARE. Not anymore. It was abundantly clear to me last year whilst I was home ill and NO ONE FUCKING NOTICED OR CARED.

And still, no one notices me.

PS: You know how all ye' Mount friends have little OTHER circles of friends you chill with, and pals from high school and whatnot... I don't have that. When you don't see me, I am doing one of two things. Working. High. That's it. That is my life.

And no one gives a shit about me.

Pardon me: I'm self-fucking-centered I guess. But ye'know... I wish someone gave a shit. I really fucking miss having friends. I'd rather I was back in Annapolis, addicted to coke and fucking a junkie. At least then I had an abundant collection of folks that cared about me and actually wanted to see me, and do things with me.

When y'all are out at the movies, pubs, down town, chilling; I'm home. And I'm probably depressed.

Have a nice fucking night.

Mucho hatred,
Lisa.

The recipe for a happy Lisa:

1 1/2 cans of TAB.
3 cigarettes.
1 rum flavored cigar.
Anytime between 9.30PM and 12.00AM.
Or...
10.00AM and 12.30PM.
1 latte.

Add a dash of downtown.
Or...
A warm rainy night in the Apartment.

1 1/4 cup of classic zombie movies and cartoon.
Or...
2 cups odd boutiques and shops.

Bake. (HaHa).

I'm off to town tomorrow to get a tattoo priced... uh, I thought I'd pop up a general sketch of it on here. Just to get opinions. it may be cliche, I don't know. I drew it up myself this evening based on a design I've had in my head for awhile.

I want it placed on the inside of my wrist, with the top of the skull/top-most star towards my hand and the remaining stars trailing up my arm, ending midway, towards my elbow. I want it o my right arm by the way.

So... What'd'ya' think?




Well? Folks? Bad? It's bad isn't it. Poo.

EDIT: I've been skating around the apartment in my brand-spanking-OLD, cheesy, 70s-esque roller-skates. Like a bloody fool. HA.