Time To Take The Cyanide Pill
Tuesday, January 31, 2006   WASHINGTON - Samuel Anthony Alito Jr. became the nation's 110th Supreme Court justice on Tuesday, confirmed with the most partisan victory in modern history after a fierce battle over the future direction of the high court.  
Tuesday, January 24, 2006 Ew...did I just say that out loud? UPDATE: One call down, one probably not coming. Oh well, at least I don't have to shave my legs. Besides, it's probably a bit much to ask God to give with both hands, especially since I spend so much time making fun of his kid.
Sunday, January 08, 2006 Ever since this whole thing happened, (and we'll call it The Thing Which Cannot Be Named, or, going forward, TTWCBN), everything has felt off kilter. I don't know how to describe it besides saying that I feel like something has been taken from me- forcefully. Ripped away. Whatever. I told you I was going to get dramatic. All I'm sure of is that something I once had is gone. I can keep writing and I changed the name of the blog and had it erased from every cache web crawler I could find, but I'm still scared to say what I mean. It's like the last place I had to vomit out the things I can't put anywhere else, the sort of flotsam and jetsam in my head, no longer have a safe place to land. Things come and go and I'm the last person to mourn for that which is transient in nature- I studied me some philosophy motherfucker, so I know all 'bout transient shit. I guess I just never thought my little corner of the web would become one of those things. I've made a lot of mistakes in the last couple of years, some minor, some major, and some the kind that you reel from for the rest of your life. But for some reason I found comfort in this space, this thing, this piece of the ether that was mine. And now that is gone. Does it get filed under mistakes made? I really don't know. All I know is that, once again, there's something else I want back which I just can't have. And it sucks. I'm going to keep trying though, both because I want to and because I need to. I guess we'll just see how it goes. Wish me luck. Or whatever. Either way, I'll land on my feet- I might even live to tell a crib death joke. One can hope right? This song sounds like this post feels. Wasn't kidding about the drama :)
Thursday, January 05, 2006 Most people won't notice, but I have deleted several posts from about a year ago. I hated having to do it, but I'm pretty sure I hated it less than I would hate having to give up a regular income in favor of living down in the Bowery giving hand jobs for crack. But hey- I'm open minded, so we'll see. Overall you'd think that the whole experience would have soured my feelings towards self publishing and the relative indelability of putting your thoughts, feelings, and fiction out on the internets. Please be assured- it has not. It's also got me thinking about why people are drawn to putting their private lives and thoughts into the most public of forums. Where does this tendency towards emotional exhibitionism come from? I don't really have any answers but I'm going to keep peep show flashing my psyche (and psychosis) to the interweb until I figure it out. Please place your quarters anywhere you see fit. Tissues are on the night stand.** **See kids, nothing's really going to change around here. But please do take a moment to tip your 40 in honor of the passing of the title of the blog. For reasons of privacy, it has to change. I don't know what I'm going to call the new incarnation yet. Until I figure it out, the blog remains nameless. In the meantime, the suggestions box is always open.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006 I can't begin to say how lucky I am to be guest blogging on the new super-secret version of "Time to Take." As luck would have it, those of us back to work today were treated with an awesome behind the scenes look at what brought down Jack Abramoff... perfect for my first blog entry. It's not shocking that a Republican staffer of DeLay would cheat on his fiance. What is shocking is that a DeLay staffer would share his deep dark secrets and then cheat on his fiance.
After the Ambulances Go
So here we are- a whole fresh year. We all know I'm not the sentimental type, but I'll admit it. I like New Years. I really, really do. I could wax poetic about how, as a devout secularist, it's the closest I get to having a holy time- but that would most likely make me sound like an asshole. So, I'll just say that I like the pomp and circumstance of the holiday. Anytime you can attach meaning to the need to be blackout drunk and behave like a trashwhore with a German triathelete who has pieced nipples is good by me. And I mean that in the most hypothetical of ways. But, as much as I love New Year's I tend to get a little maudlin on the day after the first day of the year. Maybe it's that I'm overstuffed by my traditional Last Supper before I attempt to get unfat in the coming year or the fact that I have to go back to work tomorrow for the first time in two weeks or even that my estrogen levels are spiking and behaving like a goddamn WMD. More likely it's a reaction to the fun being over. See, I have a terribly juvenile affinity towards fun. Even as a small child I was always loathe to go to bed just because I was afraid that someone, somewhere, might be having some fun that I'd miss out on. This has not changed. Back when I was still carrying on the facade that I could marry the Republican, I always found my favorite parts of the re-laaaaaationship* were the nights when the weekend, holiday, or party was over and we would hunker down and watch a movie or something dumb like that. I can't really explain why besides to say that those times always remind me of this Dylan tune (I warned you) called "Desolation Row". Click here to listen. There's a line somewhere in the song (ok, at 2:01)** which talks about how, "the only sound that's left, after the ambulances go, is Cinderella sweeping up on Desolation Row". All I can picture is an empty street littered with the slick combination of freezing rain and muddy remnants from last night's party. And out there amid the wet trash is this woman, alone, sweeping up and readying herself and her street for the next day's return to business as usual. It's sad and it's sweet (sorry Billy Joel) and it sounds just like how I feel right now. I guess having someone around on nights like this helps to either stave off the feeling or at least my identification with it. Ugh. I just read all this back and am now thinking these feeeeeeel-ings*** might be much more the product of weapons grade estrogen than I originally thought. Whatever. I'm going to take a shower and valium and start the year anew. Let's all hope I don't get fired tomorrow because my boss found my blog this weekend. Yup. You read that right. We'll talk about it later. Happy New Year to all and to all a good night. * This word should heretofore always be read in the most annoyingly needy voice that you, dear reader, can muster. ** Yeah, I know. I have issues. Deal with it. *** To be read in the same annoying tone as "re-laaaaaaaaaationship".
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Time To Take The Cyanide Pill 
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