Expensive Sadness

I'm bored of cheap and cheerful
I want expensive sadness
hospital bills, parole
open doors to madness

I want you to be crazy cos you're boring baby when you're straight
I want you to be crazy cos you're stupid baby when you're sane

I'm sick of social graces
show your shark-tipped teeth
lose your cool in public
dig that illegal meat

you can't survive on ice cream
you got the same needs as a dog

it's alright to be mean
it's alright to be mean

I want you to be crazy cos you're boring baby when you're straight
I want you to be crazy cos you're stupid baby when you're sane ~The Kills

Wouldn't it be great if The Kills were my best friends and loved my expensive sadness?

I wish therapy for me was like something either out of a Woody Allen movie or The Thomas Crown Affair. I either need some quirky wit or an awesomely chic woman who sits partially in the dark allowing me to go on and on about the painting heist I'm about to carry off just for shits and giggles.

Instead, people look at me like I'm broken when I mention the stuff...maybe I am a bit broken, but as long as I'm moving towards being broken open I care not what people think of me in the now. (That's a first!)

I have to admit I thought therapy would cure me of all my neurotic issues, but I'm still able to form new ones as soon as she 'fixes' the old. Little effers.

I'm currently freaking out about my living situation. I would love to have a space of my own so that I could write and hybernate for as long as it would take to get out my book's edits peacefully...but LA is mad expensive, yo! I could be one of those writers who live a solitary life and live off of old potatoes and water, but I'm actually a bit more high maintenance than that...not by much though. Ramon Noodles can rock my world. So I feel like a bit of a loser...for not being able to afford my own ish. I'm currently freaking out about furniture and refrigerators and all that other stuff that normal people don't worry about when they move because they actually know how to budget and save cash.

I'm going on a money strike after this weekend for sure...and changing therapy sessions to once a month. Those bad boys aren't awesome enough to keep me from flipping my lid every time it's time to write a check. The point of all this is to save me from wanting to blow a cap in some innocent bystander's arse, right?


  1. I think with time you will manage to get your own place and I bet it will be amazing:) Have a lovely Tuesday, sunshine


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