Susan Miller Did Not Address This In My May Horoscope

I keep checking my messages.

Sometimes, I read my horoscope more than I read the news.

I stared at myself in the mirror naked yesterday for 30 minutes,

And wondered if there was something you hadn’t liked.

I read my horoscope more than I read the news.

I dreamt that every time I touched you, you started convulsing.

And wondered if there was something you hadn’t liked.

I want someone to tell me what this means.

I dreamt that every time I touched you, you started convulsing.

I read once the objective of the tongue is to get to the other side.

I want someone to tell me what this means.

I want my tongue to get to the other side.

I read once the objective of the tongue is to get to the other side.

I stared at myself in the mirror naked yesterday for 30 minutes.

I want my tongue to get to the other side.

I keep checking my messages.

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I wrote this in May, but the same feeling is creeping up again in November.

I would like to find an apartment soon.

His hands are rough and cracked.

And all I can think about is houses.

The next morning my bra smells of beer.

Walking through apartment complexes, I worry

That the nice man, who gets uneasy when I ask

Why the last tenants left,

Is judging my appearance.

Noting that my hair is up because I vomited in the

CVS parking lot that morning.

I take a nap in my car, and wake up

To a homeless man tapping on my window.

Asking if I have any change.

A boy keeps texting me that he wants to see me

And that he misses me.

But all I can think about is houses.

Slew of random things.

I gave up on this a bit ago, but a friend today mentioned they read some of the posts here, and I've decided to revisit it. I deleted all the serious stories off of here, because I'm trying to send out more things to be published by more serious ventures. But in the meantime, I'm going to post some random not so serious things I've written since my departure from blog, and of course my probably random dreams I have.

My cat is the only man for me.

“I didn’t fuck her.”

Her eyes were no longer fixated on him but instead on the cat, which had begun to rub against the side couch vigorously. Her eyes followed him in his swift motion.

“Did you hear me? I didn’t fuck her. Say something.”

She looked up at him and then returned to the cat. He was now rolling around on the floor violently, but still paying close attention to rubbing at his neck.

Keith grabbed her now and pulled her attention to him. Keith had begun working at a new company with a new coworker; a coworker who had long legs and big breasts, and called him late at night.

There was a slight edge formed by the leg of the chair. The cat had discovered this edge and was edging himself along it.

“Why are you acting like this, can’t you even talk to me?”

She began to realize what the cat was doing. A got up quickly to stop him. But he ran behind the couch. Keith had begun to pace. She got down on her knees to grab the cat while he proceeded to rub against the plug in the outlet. She hummed and purred at him, and he’d come close to her and then realize her intentions and retreat.

“Why are you acting like such a child? Leave the goddamn cat alone and talk to me!”

Keith had begun slamming down items in their apartment. She turned to watch as he tossed one of her cookbooks across the room. It fell violently near the entrance of the back of the couch. The cat shuttered with fear and ran out behind the couch back to the carpet.

Keith was now sitting, his head in his knees. She saw the cat return to edge of the chair. He spotted her eyes lingering on him and contemplated his escape. The cat began to inch forward. She lunged at him as he advanced to fast run. Grabbing him by the tail, dragging him back to her.

“Fine I did fuck her.”

But it was too late; he had already ripped off his collar.

Waiting makes me question my own self-worth

I've been getting terrible bug bites

In awkward places.

I think my bed has an infestation.

I spent over 2 hours deciding to text you.

Now I've spent over 5 hours waiting

For you to text back.

And scratching my upper thigh.

Sometimes I think I'd rather just be a cat lady.

This is no longer serious venture, this was never a serious venture.

I had a strange dream last night. I dreamed that I was having a lengthy conversation my anthropology professor who is a small, old, jewish lady that lives in Berkeley and relates almost all things to male-male competition. In her mind, men are always showing their off their equipment in order to acquire as many mates a possible. In my dream, she was extremely shocked and disappointed when I told her about how little experience I have with relationships and sex, almost to the point of disgust. Then, she went on to tell me about how Genghis Khan was the posterchild of reproductive success, and told me I should aspire to be like him.

I woke feeling sad and disappointed. I feel like I only write about my dreams on here now. While I'm in the computer lab at school. Maybe though, my mother is right and I should join a dating site. Or maybe, I should post a missed connection for the boy across the room, who has bought paint from me before. I keep looking past the computer screen at him. I think he can feel me watching him. I think I won't join any of those sites, and I won't post on CL. Beside the obvious ridiculousness of such ventures, I think I enjoy being a creep, and watching from afar. I think boredom brings out the worst in me.

I'm glad no one reads this.

Titular?

I story of mine was just posted on titular journal. It's called Good Times. An earlier version was on here, but I deleted it because why read it on this silly old thing when you can read it on there?

http://titular-journal.com/television/good-times/