- Bomb Texas for freedom -

3/3/2008

Ex-Girlfriends.

File under... Love and War — mylo @ 1:50 am

Aww fuck no.

That was my reaction when someone directed me to a blog that will remain hidden on myspace.

“It’s been nine years! Can’t she just…”

My friend assured me that no, she won’t stop. She’s like a manic depressive, OCD, terminator that’s been cursed with vampirism. Someone has to put a stake through her heart before she could just let things go.

And he said “that would be if you were lucky. It could be worse, she could have your number. No wait she probably already does have that, she could be calling you, that would be worse.”

Maybe I am over reacting, but every time I hear something new from her I can’t help but feel filthy. Maybe because I know it’s a matter of time before something ticks down in that skull (that’s filled with crazy), and she’ll start the dreaded letter writing campaign.

I wish the voices in her head would just tell her cut the shit out.

But that’s not going to happen, so fine I’ll respond to one of her stupid posts about me. My comments are in bold, and italic

Hope For The Bitter…
Current mood: pensive

Batshit insane

I have to dedicate this entry to someone I once knew many years ago when I was young, naïve, and extremely possessive.

Fun fact, one day me and my parents went to the King of Prussia mall. I made the mistake of not informing Ami right before, she literally called my house over 20 times in a period of 4 hours.

Because of how possessive I was, it made me selfish and well, quite frankly, very hard to deal with as a person when it came to he and I. I can’t lie… I’ve been reading his entries again.

Again? Translation : I never stopped, I need to know if he writes about me, or even thinks of me in any other way but disgust.

I think it’s because I will always feel curious about his life. It’s only natural to want to know how your high school sweetheart is doing these days.

Do you guys think this is a legal basis for a restraining order or something?

Especially if you were the one who broke his heart. There was a time in my life where I blamed myself for his bitterness. But, I realized, that’s just taking too much credit. I’m not that powerful, and the last thing I ever wanted to do was turn him into one of the bitterest people he portrays himself to be in his entries.

Blah, blah, blah - ex gf shit

I was happy for a while when reading his entries because I found that he met someone, and fell in love again. I always believed there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and though most, especially him, would say it was only the headlight of a freight train rushing towards him while he breathes the last breaths of his life, I truly believed it was a light of hope.

Oh wait I thought you JUST started reading my blog? That’s funny me and the girl have been dating since april. If you’re going to mimic me dummy get it right. I would say it’s like going on a really good date, drinking a little too much, and then waking up in a strange motel in a bathtub full of ice, with a kidney missing.

Duh!

I know it sounds rather fluffy. But, there are a lot of reasons why I read his entries to this day. For one, he is one hell of a writer. Always was. At least I believed him to be. He never quite believed he was. At least that is the impression he gave me throughout the four years and one month of our relationship. Yeah, I even remember how long. I remember the night, the time, and the date. As screwy as it sounds, I ended it on April 1st of 1998. It was 1:13 AM. It was not pretty and there was a lot of anger on his part. But, I don’t have to delve into that tale again. Let’s just say I couldn’t blame him. Despite the fact that I never cheated on him, it still hurt him. In the end I think I did him a huge favor. He was able to finally spread his wings and live. That’s how I feel about it anyway.

capt kirkI is awesome. I is awesome Captain Kirk Style. Always was (thanks psycho ex for proving it!!!)

However as screwy as it sounds, you have the date wrong. It was 1999, the rest I’ll assume is right.

You’re right though it wasn’t pretty. I had to hear for the month or two after everyday “I don’t want you to hate me, why do you hate me, why do your friends and family hate me? They liked me before I dumped you.”

It is always funny how she mentions the cheating thing. Although I never received said proof, I did find a witness later on. I can’t really blame her though, I think another year I definately would have cheated on her, and she’s the only girlfriend I ever regretted not cheating on.

Although I suppose I did spread my wings and live, of course it was easier after the 124 pound anchor that bitched me out about everything, and heard voices in it’s head was cut loose.

That’s how I’ll always feel about it.

I read his latest entry. It was bitter. (or sad) I couldn’t blame him. I’m not sure he ever wonders onto my MySpace site. (not unless I’m forced too)

If he does, I hope that if he reads this entry he knows that it’s going to be OK. Though distance is a stormy ocean between two people in love, it is also a test of the heart. (shut up, you cheapen my emotions by even thinking that sentence)

I know that sounds easy coming from me. I live with my boyfriend and will actually be celebrating four years together tomorrow. (I thought this post was about me? Oh no you aren’t selfish still)

February 8th is when we met in 2004. The thing is I remember distance. I did it twice. (I think I’m one, I’m hoping the cops found the other guy’s body that she ditched in the woods by now)

It was extremely difficult, and while I believed myself to be strong, I really wasn’t. (You ARE worthless and weak [fuck i’ve been dying to say that for years!])

I had a hard time when my boyfriend would go on his ten day vacations in the summer and I couldn’t go because of work. It was like going through a drug withdrawal (Fun fact 2, she used to say the same thing about me. I’m pretty sure I can use this in a paper or something, addiction, relationships and codependence) , and that was only ten days!

I’m willing to bet he loved those vacations so fucking much, and then when he stepped off the plane and when he saw an emotionally disturbed girl with a horrible fro there to greet him he died a little each time.

Peter, you will be OK. I believe that you will.

Jess you hear that? That crazy one I told you about says we’re going to be fine! Thank god, we should cancel that appointment we had with Dr Phil

I know that means nothing to you coming from me. I’m the last person you want to hear from, and especially the last person who you could ever want to wish you well. (There are others, but yeah)

But, I know you’ll be OK. It may feel like the end of the world…(not really) hell, it may even BE the end of YOUR world. (no it isn’t) If this is the love you deserve. The love you have longed for despite your bitterness with the four letter word, she will return home to you.

Yet again, stop cheapening my emotions, and while you’re at it stop even imagining you understand me. However there is a Freudian slip there. See if you can find it. I’ll wait… … … find it? She used the word “if”, “If this is the love you deserve”, by using that particular word choice it actually shows hostility still. I knew this whole “oh I hate no one, I forgive you” crap was another act. Of course I could be digging too deep, but in reality I’m probably only scratching the surface of crazy.

I’ve been listening to this song on my iPod by VNV Nation called “Distant (Rubicon II)”. For some reason as I was working out at the gym tonight while this song started to play in my ears, I thought about his situation.

The paths that I once tread
have all but gone.
Only embers now smoulder
where bridges once burned.
I feel alive and yet I fear
what may happen now.
I know I can’t return.

Yug, enough of that shit. It goes on, for a bunch of paragraphs. I’m sparing you trust me.

That song just reminds me of him, and when I think about his latest entry, I know that the song was meant for me to hear tonight. I usually just skip it because it is a very mellow, melancholy song. But I had to listen because I was meant to…

GOD IS IN MY EX GIRLFRIENDS IPOD!!!!!! The lord speaketh through the shuffle function. Bless ye playlists, for the prophet Ami to interpret through chemical imbalanced wisdom! Hallelujah!!! Praise da lawd!!!!!

I think the bitterness I experienced. I remember my best friend from the city feeling so relieved the day I fell in love again because she thought I would never allow myself to feel after my experiences

I know that made you sound stupid somehow, I’m trying to pin point it. I think it’s the best friend from the city part. She was probably thankful, because you wouldn’t shut up about how awesome I am, and how you blew it.

I told my boyfriend that I am now thankful to God that I experienced such pain and that I wouldn’t change it because I was supposed to go through it.

To which he probably thinks he got you because of something really bad he did in his life, and now he is trying to make amends

It didn’t mean I had to like it, but I learned and grew from it.

I don’t think you really grew. You sound pretty much the same, except the born again christian bent.

Because of this, I was able to meet the love of my life. The night I finally let go, was the morning when 2004 began, and so did the rest of my life…

The day he started to look for an escape route, January 3rd 2004. There’s probably a tunnel under the bed that’s half-way to staten island. It’s not letting go if you’re still writing about me, and going through my blog you dumb bitch!!!

To everyone and anyone who is hurting, bitter, angry, and hateful because their hearts have been ripped from their chests and smashed against the wall too many times: It’s going to be OK. You can always start again, only this time you will be wiser, patient, and most of all…stronger…

Says the girl who still blogs about her ex-bf 9 years removed. My advice? There is no hope. Ami’s current should run screaming for the hills, he will face nothing but misery. She probably robbed all ambition from him. He probably looks at her periods in boredom instead of sympathy. His family hates her, his friends are dropping away one by one, and she’s not noticing because she’s bleeding him. This fucked up bitch is bleeding him dry of everything that makes him human. Look buddy I don’t know your name or who you are, but I mean this from the bottom of my heart.

RUN. Just run as fast as you can, kick her out of the apartment, and start over. If you don’t, it will get worse trust me.

Ami has a thing with poetry. One day someone told her she was talented, and she just wouldn’t stop. I think there are probably 100 chapbooks about me. The below poem is an original piece of work. I don’t want even want to look at it to mock it, so I’ll leave you the first paragraph.

Standing

[September 1999]

Eyes betray the soul and bear it’s thinking.
Beyond words they say so many things to me.
A stranger here reborn it seems
awaking wonders deep in me.
If nothing’s ventured nothing’s gained
so I must seize the day.

God that was horrible wasn’t it? But this is how it went down,.

Oct 25 1994, I stayed late in the school library. It was my 17th birthday. My house life wasn’t that great. I guess it was a combination of teenage angst, growing pains, and parents scared for my future. At 4:30 I caught the late school bus home. I bumped into my friend Ron Andersen, with him was a boisterous girl from queens named Ami. We ended up hanging out a lot at school. Mostly because she wouldn’t leave me alone, and I felt sorry for her.

March of 1995 I was invited to her sisters bday, and me and Ami became boyfriend and girlfriend. We slow danced to the pixies “bird dream of the olympus mons”

Time passes, and four years later in a basement apartment in queens, we broke up. Sometimes I think it was meant to happen like that. That I needed to learn how toxic people can be. Then when I look at my old camera’s, and think about the other girls I should have asked out back in the day, and I realize how lovely, warm, and fun Jessica is. I then wish I went straight home for some birthday cake, and to unwrap a present.



Business Broker

2/6/2008

So, that’s what it meant

File under... Love and War — mylo @ 10:01 pm

Ms. Brit went home monday.

No we aren’t broken up, she’s just home.

No I haven’t been sleeping, remained social, or shave.  I just haven’t or wanted to do anything since then.

It’s hard, I still half expect her to walk in, smile plop herself on my couch, and make fun of American foibles and TV.

It’s not happening though.  It’s enough to make one bitter, or in my case even more bitter.



Business Broker

6/7/2007

Ok last one I promise.

File under... Love and War — mylo @ 10:34 pm

So the girl is off to New Orleans until Monday.  Before she left though I made her a mix CD.  Don’t know why.

So stupid me forgot to give her the track listing. I took a screen shot of my itunes to email them.
Admittedly some of these songs are a little embarrassing to fess up to the fact they are … in… …my… … … … … collection.  BUT THEY ARE!  Deal with it bitches.

mixcd.jpg

Besides it’s a requirement that I build a soundtrack for a girl.  Mostly so when I’m dumped I can play it over and over and over and over and over and over again until I’m so blinded in self pity and bitterness I begin questioning my worth as a human being.

Good times…

Anyway I really recommend the Golden Birds, The Concretes song, and Bob Dylan’s beard (for the record it’s an excellent one to hum to yourself in the snow while walking through Washington Square Park)

I’m also fond of Devotchka, Queen of the Surface Streets says more about a girl than I ever dared to say out loud.

Kathy’s Song, this one gets that song by default, English girl, American artist?  Sound familiar?

So if you’re somewhat obsessive compulsive about my life, you can recreate the whole thing.  Most of the songs are on itunes anyway.  I suggest you do, this one is pretty good.



5/21/2007

It always starts with a toothbrush

File under... Love and War — mylo @ 12:34 pm

Miss Brit stayed the weekend.

She left this morning to go to work, and when I got to my bathroom sink a toothbrush that wasn’t mine was left behind, tucked in between aftershave, and the toothpaste.

She just marked her turf.

I’m not complaining at all. I have turned into such a sucker for her.

Mostly because she says such cool things -

  • We really are a mongrel nation (england), we have saxons, normans, angles.
    • My reply was, no you aren’t. If you can point out someone there and call him a saxon fuckbag, then you may have a point.
  • I am not easily domesticated
    • This was in response to, “Lets put some of that feminist theory to work and clean my apartment.”

My favorites are the following

  • Most of my wardrobe has been horribly influenced by Dita Von Teese.It's sort of like dating a english version.  Minus taking clothes off in public
  • Oh yes, me and a ex used to spar with lightsabers, all the time.

And finally, I dislocated my shoulder last week. It’s still a little tender, and when I was holding on to a pole on the train it hurt alot.

She gave me this look. It can only be described as concern, and says…

  • I worry about you.

I think this one is a keeper.



4/24/2007

Asking around.

File under... Love and War — mylo @ 1:56 am

“So’s here the thing right.  They were deep in my sock drawer, really buried.  So as I’m emptying it out I pull them out.”

Chad takes another drag from his cigarette.  “What?”

“This thong.  They were black, and they looked clean like completely unworn.  Like that party I threw last year wasn’t that wild, and I think it was the last time I had anyone in there.”

“What about Amberleigh?”

“Who?”  I think for a second, “Oh yeah her.  She was over once, and she didn’t have black underwear.”

“What was it?”

“Red.”

“Pimp!”  He pounds my knuckles.  “I don’t know dude it could be someone else.  But they could have left it there without you knowing.”

“What?  Why?”

“They do that, mark their territory like fuckin’ animals.”

I think I should mention Chad’s girl of four years recently dumped him, and is now trying to put the squeeze on him for cash.

“Calling them animals, hunh?  How is that better than saying that they are similar to war criminals?”

“Ever tell a girl she’s got a ’stache?  She’d rip you apart like a fuckin’ bear.”  Chad grinds his cigarette out, and goes upstairs.



12/26/2006

On retreat

File under... Love and War — mylo @ 5:23 am

So I go to my grandfather’s house, collect my gift certificates and 20s and saunter off to Breezy Point. Of course it has to rain. Of course it has to be cold, and of course I didn’t bring my hoody.

And of course, of course, of course I’m the only guy I know that would be stupid enough to show up to a girls house after she casually throws threats of castration around.

With no direct bus, I get off at the closest possible stop. Pull my jacket around tighter, and I’m keeping myself warm thinking about the mental work out I’m gonna get by sucker punching her psyche into paste.

You see maybe I realize I’m not being clear on the actual why I feel this compulsion to why destroy this beautiful creature.

We’re all soldiers. All of us. We slaughter, we kill, we march, and follow the orders of our screwed up hormones. This one here (me), had enough of being the relative pacifist and running to switzerland and praying that it’ll all end. I’ve had enough of being the good guy, while you opportunistic bitches decide to run off to abusing assholes.

If you realize it or not, you rung me dry of sympathy and I’m starting to hit back. Because if this what you want, I’m more than game. I really don’t care what the fuck you think, because chances are (and I know there is a few ex girlfriends, and others I dated that are reading this) you put the final few nails in nice guy mylo’s coffin.

As I walked through the streets of this neighborhood that used to bring me childhood joy, I’m trying to figure out what I’m going to say. Where can I verbally cut to open up her rib cage.

I got to the front of her place. It’s really old, it has a wraparound deck and actual wood siding. I remember her telling me it was once a great-aunt’s house that remained in the family. The lights that were on inside, weren’t from lightbulbs. They were flickery. She still had power because I can see the shape of a christmas tree in a window.

I wipe the soaked hair from my eyes, and I walk up the stairs feeling the steps bend a little. She had a note pinned to the door, “Peter come in” the ink streaked all over the paper.

So I open the door, she had candles set up all over the place. Up the stairs to the bedrooms, around the fireplace, and down the hallways. Quietly I closed the door, I heard the rain rattle against the windows.

It was warm, and besides the smell of wax I could almost smell that cottony smell of fresh warm linen, and homecooked food. I walked down the hallway to the dining room. “yeah I know daddy, no he’s coming…No I’m sure of it. He’s a good man. He has a really neat job, and he’s putting himself through school…Yeah he’s better than Jason. (deep sigh, followed by silence) I don’t know where he is…It’s just hard being away…I miss you and mom, and grandpa, and…(laughs) daddy c’mon that’s not funny. It’s just… (another sigh, it sounds soblike.) I…

Amberleigh turned around, and saw me dripping wet at the door way. She sat at the head of the table where there was a small turkey with trimmings. Candles were set all around the table, two long ones were on both sides of the table.

Her long brown hair was pinned up with two long strands framing her pretty face. Tears were beginning to cut through the light touches of foundation.

“hi.”

“hey.”

“Merry Christmas Peter.”

“Merry Christmas Amberleigh.”

She then smiled. I can’t explain what happened next, but when I realized she was crying though ten seconds before. I just couldn’t do anything mean. I know chicagoPerv, will call me weak. I know I felt disgusted with myself, and I hated her for crying. But I just couldn’t go through with it, not on christmas.

She dabbed her eyes with a napkin, being careful of her mascara. “I cooked.”

“I know it looks great, thank you.”

“Let me get you a towel though.” She took the phone with her before she scampered off, she stopped briefly to peck me on the cheek.

She may have won this battle, but there is always next week.



12/23/2006

Choices Choices

File under... Love and War — mylo @ 8:12 pm

So I didn’t go to breezy today. My parent’s are coming, and I can either wave over a years worth of debouchary in their face when they come over to clean out my stuff when I’m a corpse.

Or I can definately get killed by them when they come over on christmas.

Tough call. Amberleigh is still txting me, I’m going to have to save my definate mutilation and murder in the cold wet sands of queens for Christmas night.



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