The Brattychick

Mickey: You drank a beer in your sleep. Heidi: Oh, what did you think about that? Mickey: I wasn't all that surprised. It actually explains a lot.

Watch "Adaptation (2002) - Donald Kauman talking about his love (English Version)" on YouTube I'm writing a novel, friends. I'm writing a novel about people and places I loved and lost. The love is mine no matter the outcome. The space existed in time and is not made any less by death or forgetfulness. It's there, it's mine. Closure happens and grieving is finished not when it stops being sad, but when it is possible to fondly remember without bitterness.

I can't play the finger with my right piano thumb

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they ploppe...

"You're all say somethingy tonight"

If you go down to hammond You’ll never come back In my opinion you’re On the wrong track We’ll always love you but That’s not the point If you go with that fella Forget about us As far as I’m concerned That would be just Throwing yourself away Not even trying Come on you’re lying to me Well I went down to hammond I did as I pleased I ain’t the only one Who’s got this disease Why don’t you face the fact You old upstart We fall apart You’d be okay if you’d Just stay in school Don’t be a fool Do your eyes have an answer To this song of mine They say we meet again On down the line Where is on down the line How far away? Tell me I’m okay If you go down to hammond You’ll never come back

I'm tired of other people telling my story. I don't want to keep quiet. I don't care about making waves. I've got nothing to lose. #amonthoftruths on twitter.

Heidi : Apathy is coming to rescue me. I dunno why I give a fuck about anything at all CF : What a wonderful lyric! Heidi : Yeah? CF : Sure Heidi : I could try to write a song about apathy...But what would be the point? CF : Call it Strawberry Fields Whatever

Heidi: Do you know anything about anything? Robin: I know something about your mom.

My summertime villanelle!

My poem about the perfect father featured on Yahoo!

I finished it. It's published. "When I was ten years old, my grandmother committed suicide via a closed garage and a Buick. The garage was attached to the house. Though the doors were closed, my grandfather, sleeping upstairs, was reached by the toxic fumes. They both slipped away quietly in the night..." You can read it on yahoo! here .

Don't agree to write a piece on depression

me : Find me on words What is your thing Kate : Vladra its my DK in Wow's name lawl me : You are not speaking inglis Kate : its the name of my death knight on world of warcraft me : Lol I know Mickey translated Kate : lol I got a new toon now too, Chris and I are going to level Goblins together mine's name is Oubangui his toon's name is turtlehead I win points for creativity not so sure about him... lol me : I got a new stuffed animal that I named Flffdfr. If I leveled him I think he would be less cuddly. Kate : yeah level isn't so much cuddling me : I'm going to get a fainting space goat

I just wrote an alarmingly dorky piece on Yahoo! about video game addiction. It's not alarming in that it's any surprise that I am that dorky, it's just a rarity that I admitted it willingly and unabashedly.

I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good 3/4/2010-5/2/2012 The Sadder But Wiser Girl 12/30/09-3/4/2010 Making Art, Music, & Poetry Whilst Begrudgingly Doing the Laundry 11/17/09-12/29/09 Disagreeable Little Pill circa March-November 2009 What's All This? Spinkiness At It's Best circa winter 2009 Where Are The Ta Tas? This One Is Wet I Guess This Is A Mommy Blog, But I Promise I'm Funny, And So Is My Family. But Not As Funny As Me

Me: I have the mean reds. I feel worthless and ugly and fat. SB: You are loved. Me: Thank you. Are you mad at me? SB: No why? Me: idk SB: Did I do something to make you think so? Is it because my breath smells right now? Me: No. it totally never smells even though you are in constant fear that it does SB: No I can taste it right now. It's coffee and Garlic. Gum is needed. OMG! I want garlic flavored coffee.  That would be delicious. Me: Hmmmmmm SB: So what's wrong? Me: I'm not an underwear model or porn star And I think it's probably time for plastic surgery SB: No.  It's cheaper and easier to throw up. Just kidding. Me: Nothing tastes as good as skinny :-)

Me: I'm not doing well. Are you feeling any better? CF: Sorry to hear it! Whats wrong? Me: I'm not an underwear model or porn star. And I think it's probably time for plastic surgery CF: Oh no... Are you no longer the most beautiful girl in the neighborhood? Boys seem to like you. Me: Lol. Probably i'm still that. I do really well with the immigrant set. CF: Perhaps a move to costa rica is in order.

"Mommy, this will impair my ability to use machines."

"I can feel the force in my...pants."

Here it comes. The race to unconsciousness. It always makes for interesting writing. Tonight I feel the anger and disquiet bubbling up. They are threatening to make me not funny this evening. I can feel my soul writhing around inside myself recently. Twisting and turning and nothing is comfortable. Usually this is a sign of breakthrough ahead. I hope so.

4/5/2012 It's 4:30 am in Dublin Ireland on a Thursday. It's 11:30 pm at home. I shouldn't be awake either place. I'm good at being awake when I shouldn't. I can't sleep. I have a headache. I have a headache a lot in Ireland. It's all the Guinness and Jameson. Even though I tread softly through the room, the man I love wakes as well. Both of us are restless. I've had beastly little nightmares and snippets of last nights drunken and troubling conversation. We fell asleep midway through and it keeps rattling around in my head. I leave him tomorrow to collect my dearly missed children for Easter while he jaunts around a few more days. I push it all out of my mind. I'm cold and lonely to the bone and my teeth are chattering. I draw a hot bath and play music that replenishes my strength and sense of self. I sink into the tub with a pencil that came with the room and my notebook. It's been years since I've written in pencil and I'd forgotten t...

Please check out my flash fiction piece on yahoo!

I'm so angry recently. All the resentment that I've bottled up over the years is surfacing. All the rage that I've protected everyone from in case it hurts their feelings or makes them uncomfortable or pushes their fragile psyche over the edge is coming out. It's not pretty. I feel infuriated and invincible.

Every year I slowly disappear during the winter. Bit by bit I descend into a private hell. Eventually I can't remember what it's like to feel alright.And then, at the moment I think I can't take it anymore, the crocuses come out and I know it's going to be ok. To top it off I got to bartend on a beautiful evening with the windows open in Old Town.

"So my choices for movies tonight are IMF, CIA, or Navy Seals, yeah?

Mickey: Ok, we take a left, we take a crazy turn... Heidi: That's a hairpin turn. Mickey: That's a stock market turn.

It's time for me to be awesome in the original sense of the word . No more being a doormat for narrow-minded toxic people. I'm stuck and I want to get a move on. The trouble is that I don't exactly know where I want to be. I have some general ideas, but I really wish I could just movie montage it instead of doing the legwork. I'll do it though. Get ready.

"Why are there so many slang words for a girls private parts?!"

"You're welcome for my nice manners."

Robin : (to the Panera cashier) I think I have two cents. Heidi : I'll give you my two cents. Look, I have a whole sock full of change. I could beat someone up. Robin : Yeah. You could beat off a mugger. Heidi : You could beat off a mugger. Then maybe he wouldn't mug you.

It's been a weird month. I haven't slept for a solid eight or even seven hours in at least two weeks. The bags under my eyes could hold the groceries that I've neglected to buy. I'm back together with Mickey. Internet, I haven't told you much about him, because I feared backlash and also because I felt that it made him uncomfortable. However, it's time. Mickey is the love of my life. I adore the hell out of him. I always have. It's ridiculous. He is strong where I am weak. I am the yin to his yang. No one had ever tried so hard or fought so valiantly for me. When we are good there is nothing in the world that I've seen that compares to our magic. It's straight fairy tale. We haven't always been good to or for each other. We have been a total idiot sketchy douche at times. However, taking a month apart nearly did us both in. The heart is funny. A world full of people, but no one would do. Because not one compares to Mickey. Now we are on the m...