<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550</id><updated>2012-02-16T06:01:34.087-08:00</updated><title type='text'>(fires burnin in her soul)</title><subtitle type='html'>ROBOT BLOOD</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>20</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-6075763485934188430</id><published>2008-06-10T12:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T01:42:21.004-07:00</updated><title type='text'>279 E Gibson</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; 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	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Tempus Sans ITC&amp;quot;; color: rgb(253, 173, 247);"&gt;i just walked to the door and knocked. as if no time had passed- that is so like me. surprise! here I am-after years...take me back. accept me and our past. boom! we're at your door.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Tempus Sans ITC&amp;quot;; color: rgb(253, 173, 247);"&gt;knock knock knock&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Tempus Sans ITC&amp;quot;; color: rgb(253, 173, 247);"&gt;there was the sound of only one dog barking. that instantly broke my heart. damn....it had been a few years. that ol boy must have gone.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Tempus Sans ITC&amp;quot;; color: rgb(253, 173, 247);"&gt;it was the first thing i asked when he opened the door, where was my favorite dog? when did he pass? where were you? did you have to put him down? i loved that dog so much.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Tempus Sans ITC&amp;quot;; color: rgb(253, 173, 247);"&gt;and looking at him after all this time had passed....i knew i once loved him so much as well. his smile, the way he just picked up in conversation with me like we had talked yesterday, his sarcastic wit. his instant acceptance of me, of our falling out, of our history. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Tempus Sans ITC&amp;quot;; color: rgb(253, 173, 247);"&gt;our relationship was always tumultuous...we loved it like that.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Tempus Sans ITC&amp;quot;; color: rgb(253, 173, 247);"&gt;he was the one. not THE ONE. but the one.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Tempus Sans ITC&amp;quot;; color: rgb(253, 173, 247);"&gt;always there.always down.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Tempus Sans ITC&amp;quot;; color: rgb(253, 173, 247);"&gt;my friend and my confidante.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Tempus Sans ITC&amp;quot;; color: rgb(253, 173, 247);"&gt;the validator. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Tempus Sans ITC&amp;quot;; color: rgb(253, 173, 247);"&gt;I have never had another, no matter how much I have looked for one, there is no other duh-white. k*town. tupper.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:16;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:14;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-6075763485934188430?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/6075763485934188430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=6075763485934188430' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/6075763485934188430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/6075763485934188430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2008/06/279-e-gibson.html' title='279 E Gibson'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-8181395980845595556</id><published>2008-06-09T01:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T17:09:24.238-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5Cowner%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Font Definitions */  @font-face 	{font-family:Gulim; 	panose-1:2 11 6 0 0 1 1 1 1 1; 	mso-font-alt:굴림; 	mso-font-charset:129; 	mso-generic-font-family:swiss; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:-1342176593 1775729915 48 0 524447 0;} @font-face 	{font-family:"\@Gulim"; 	panose-1:2 11 6 0 0 1 1 1 1 1; 	mso-font-charset:129; 	mso-generic-font-family:swiss; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:-1342176593 1775729915 48 0 524447 0;}  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:11.0in 8.5in; 	mso-page-orientation:landscape; 	margin:9.35pt 1.0in 9.35pt 1.0in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;THERE WAS ALWAYS SOMETHING I COULDN'T PUT MY FINGER ON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well. I finally figured it out and as deep as it is for me to have figured it out for myself...&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;is as shallow as the mystery actually is, which is a grand disappointment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;My realization that led to the solving of the mystery,&lt;br /&gt;I do not approach people on a class level.&lt;br /&gt;I do not put my love in money. I just don't have a money thing.&lt;br /&gt;I was raised poor, and have consistently stayed that way, not on purpose or anything, it has just worked out that way.&lt;br /&gt;I just don't have a money thing. Perhaps if I did, I wouldn't be so damn poor...? Could be. Could be.&lt;br /&gt;Well, I realized - I don't approach people on the money level, and that the playing field is even to me....even on my end....I don't look at money or judge by it, so the behaviors that some people have from &lt;i style=""&gt;never going without money&lt;/i&gt;...escape me.&lt;br /&gt;I don't catch them. They pull the wool right over my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;He has money.&lt;br /&gt;Grew up with money and has found himself in really interesting jobs making a shit ton of money&lt;br /&gt;He has and has always had...a life of privilege. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;The privilege of money. never going without things or food or a way to live more than comfortably…&lt;br /&gt;AND&lt;br /&gt;his dad's a cop.&lt;br /&gt;which I have known about him... but coupling being the son of a cop with the life of privilege , can brew a sense of entitlement.&lt;br /&gt;And he has that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;Those two things I have never known, entitlement and privilege-&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;and he knows enough about me to see that clearly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;I don’t have money; I have worked and earned everything I have. which isn’t much currently.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;I have not found myself in interesting jobs making a shit ton of money. I have not grown up with parents who both have money.&lt;br /&gt;I am sure that I am his odd piece of ass on some side of something...and that he would never 'allow' himself feelings for me because&lt;br /&gt;a) I have kids. which he has no respect for or understanding of&lt;br /&gt;b) I am too poor &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;c) I have had a life without money and with hardship and instead of admiring my plight? he is turned off by it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sex is good. Not great.&lt;br /&gt;and he's pretty vanilla.&lt;br /&gt;His cock is nice. Pierced. Not huge.&lt;br /&gt;It was ok.i wasn't bored and I enjoyed it.&lt;br /&gt;It lacks passion. FOR SURE. it's rhythmic and sanitary. almost anonymous.&lt;br /&gt;Not hot with passion or desire. which is kinda empty. like a prolonged one night stand.&lt;br /&gt;I dig passion. desire. tell me you wanna fuck me. show me ya wanna fuck me.fuck me like you don't wanna be anywhere else&lt;br /&gt;we talked for a long time. that is where I gathered my answers. he had on a louis vuitton sweater. which kinda summed it up for me. he is buying a motorcycle (restored vintage)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;and he has no fucking job. Uh yeah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;Being the strange on the side...not what I want for myself right now. lacking passion. not what I want. ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he is fucking really good looking. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;I always come back to that. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;That is fucking shallow. The shallowest I have ever felt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-8181395980845595556?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/8181395980845595556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=8181395980845595556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/8181395980845595556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/8181395980845595556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2008/06/normal-0-false-false-false.html' title=''/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-3393108030852962734</id><published>2008-06-09T01:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T17:18:10.119-07:00</updated><title type='text'>young love</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5Cowner%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Font Definitions */  @font-face 	{font-family:Verdana; 	panose-1:2 11 6 4 3 5 4 4 2 4; 	mso-font-charset:0; 	mso-generic-font-family:swiss; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:-1593833729 1073750107 16 0 415 0;}  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:11.0in 8.5in; 	mso-page-orientation:landscape; 	margin:9.35pt 1.0in 9.35pt 1.0in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;i had a boyfriend when i was 17&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;it was total &lt;i style=""&gt;love will tear us apart&lt;/i&gt; type stuff.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;the truest kind of love. all gooey and real thick and sweet. like warm caramel.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;he made me mixtapes and wrote songs and poetry for me.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;he was 24 and i was sweet sweet seventeen.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;i loved him. with all of me.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;i knew he was the one.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;i got pregnant and found out on my 18th bday-which is also valentine’s day&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;i was gonna tell him but he came over and broke up with me.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;oh man i was fucked. we were on again off again for about a year.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;he wanted to marry me and have a baby. i said ok then changed my mind. we never really recovered from that. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;i was 17!!!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;but there was this purity to the whole damn thing. he was a good man. honest and real.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;we would ride his vespa around sf and listen to the rolling stones and iggy pop llyod cole.the wonder stuff.close lobsters, the wedding present. joy division. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;we would makeout alot and he loved the way i looked.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;he took me to his parents and they were of course mortified that i was so young.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;they were very well off and he had a ba in poly-sci&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;we parted ways and i saw him about a year later on mtv.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;the lamest place to see your ex is in a video on mtv&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-3393108030852962734?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/3393108030852962734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=3393108030852962734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/3393108030852962734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/3393108030852962734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2008/06/young-love.html' title='young love'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-3056925558216683309</id><published>2008-06-09T00:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T01:01:05.715-07:00</updated><title type='text'>private eyes</title><content type='html'>&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204); text-align: center;font-family:lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;dear sir,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204); text-align: center;font-family:lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; please come over and chop wood and let me watch.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204); text-align: center;font-family:lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;i have the hottest lumberjack fantasies.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204); text-align: center;font-family:lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;i have hot fantasies yet no real sex.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204); text-align: center;font-family:lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;mmmm damn it.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204); text-align: center;font-family:lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;i haven't actually had sex since the clown. doesn't that seem unfair to you?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204); text-align: center;font-family:lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;jeez.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204); text-align: center;font-family:lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;the tattooed george clooney is back. he would like to see me again. but his forcefield of odd is less than intriguing and well....&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204); text-align: center;font-family:lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;uh. whatever.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204); text-align: center;font-family:lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;if it works out i will see him and fuck him i am sure.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204); text-align: center;font-family:lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;but only because he is so god damn good looking.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204); text-align: center;font-family:lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;which feels as shallow as it sounds.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204); text-align: center;font-family:lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-3056925558216683309?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/3056925558216683309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=3056925558216683309' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/3056925558216683309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/3056925558216683309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2008/06/private-eyes.html' title='private eyes'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-383053904241740201</id><published>2008-06-02T16:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T00:57:14.634-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1947 Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Pv-AqUhY0SI/SESHzQ8nRuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/05qel9KI1UE/s1600-h/bm-image-764192.jpe"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Pv-AqUhY0SI/SESHzQ8nRuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/05qel9KI1UE/s320/bm-image-764192.jpe" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207436383939413730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-383053904241740201?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/383053904241740201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=383053904241740201' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/383053904241740201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/383053904241740201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2008/06/multimedia-message.html' title='1947 Life'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Pv-AqUhY0SI/SESHzQ8nRuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/05qel9KI1UE/s72-c/bm-image-764192.jpe' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-2856057667278735655</id><published>2007-10-14T12:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T01:28:28.988-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2 steps forward 5 steps back</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;every time i take 2 forward life makes me take 5 back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;it lessens the degree of difficulty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-2856057667278735655?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/2856057667278735655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=2856057667278735655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/2856057667278735655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/2856057667278735655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2007/10/2-steps-forward-5-steps-back.html' title='2 steps forward 5 steps back'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-236268731820297014</id><published>2007-10-06T21:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T21:51:37.037-07:00</updated><title type='text'>she was such a good girl to me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/P8DRxQATErY"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/P8DRxQATErY" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i play this video all the time.&lt;br /&gt;this is a brilliant performance and so candid.&lt;br /&gt;beautiful song.&lt;br /&gt;i love it&lt;br /&gt;and it's public purity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-236268731820297014?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/236268731820297014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=236268731820297014' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/236268731820297014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/236268731820297014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2007/10/she-was-such-good-girl-to-me.html' title='she was such a good girl to me.'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-7050034463917981593</id><published>2007-10-06T21:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T02:06:50.487-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the cock ratio.</title><content type='html'>the cock to drama ratio.&lt;br /&gt;there must always and forever be waywayway more cock than drama.&lt;br /&gt;or i am out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there must always be more cock than talk as well.&lt;br /&gt;and more cock than cuddling or discussion,or eating or driving.&lt;br /&gt;there must be more cock than anything.&lt;br /&gt;or what is the point?&lt;br /&gt;i have friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;thrill me&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;show me that you are the one that gets to fuck me.&lt;br /&gt;i am ready to give it&lt;br /&gt;there is just no one that gets it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the female equivalent to this is the 'hot to crazy' ratio.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-7050034463917981593?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/7050034463917981593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=7050034463917981593' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/7050034463917981593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/7050034463917981593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2007/10/cock-ratio.html' title='the cock ratio.'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-733618657813332597</id><published>2007-07-21T22:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-08T03:51:41.292-07:00</updated><title type='text'>circles, triangles, square root of it all.</title><content type='html'>i love him&lt;br /&gt;he loves her&lt;br /&gt;she loves another&lt;br /&gt;who still and again loves someone else&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;right?&lt;br /&gt;this is a constant.&lt;br /&gt;you never win&lt;br /&gt;and then you SCORE! but no. it was just something shiny and new that distracted you.&lt;br /&gt;hmmph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am a lucky girl&lt;br /&gt;i am worldwide&lt;br /&gt;ha&lt;br /&gt;except that it is friday night datenight and i am here&lt;br /&gt;dateless. not desperate though.&lt;br /&gt;but i never have a date&lt;br /&gt;there isn't a special man in my life.&lt;br /&gt;i have correspondence&lt;br /&gt;and that really was enough for me...&lt;br /&gt;until recently.&lt;br /&gt;recently. i realized that it might be nice to have a guy&lt;br /&gt;ya know? be part of a couple.&lt;br /&gt;i start all relationships with the complete knowledge of how exactly they will play out&lt;br /&gt;there are generally no surprises.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-733618657813332597?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/733618657813332597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=733618657813332597' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/733618657813332597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/733618657813332597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2007/07/circles-triangles-square-root-of-it-all.html' title='circles, triangles, square root of it all.'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-123115096153309955</id><published>2007-07-13T12:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T02:18:21.925-07:00</updated><title type='text'>you insult my people</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;.mike.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;prior to singling him out-&lt;br /&gt;i crushed on his whole crew.&lt;br /&gt;old school punks-there were 3 of them. totally cryptic and alluring.&lt;br /&gt;yo la tengo.dieselhed.butthole surfers.iggy pop.frank zappa.tom jones.&lt;br /&gt;they always had some weird story and some tale of some crazy art.band.car.&lt;br /&gt;something.&lt;br /&gt;they would talk in code, all the time.&lt;br /&gt;cryptic. i had never been around a group of guys with such a tight weird dynamic.&lt;br /&gt;they all came over one night.it was rainy and cold.&lt;br /&gt;mike nodded out. i just thought he was tired. of course. i always overlook.look beyond.ignore the obvious.&lt;br /&gt;he started to have a seizure-grand mal, in the middle of my floor.&lt;br /&gt;then he came to-got up and ran out the door barefoot into the rain.&lt;br /&gt;i looked at marc and robo....&lt;br /&gt;they knew he was on the nod and that's why he had the seizure. they said nothing except 'he's fine'&lt;br /&gt;i was a couple years away from knowing the intricate way his epilepsy and speedballs made nice with each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;flash forward&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; give me a math problem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;we would lie on my bed, heads hanging off, or do backwards somersaults&lt;br /&gt;we were high&lt;br /&gt;i fell into this coke routine quite easily&lt;br /&gt;he would shoot up speedballs and i would do coke&lt;br /&gt;we were quite the pair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he was the most amazing guy, dynamic and beautiful&lt;br /&gt;he would come over and shoot up&lt;br /&gt;i crushed on him for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;his ways were unique.his mind always cloudy from the junk&lt;br /&gt;either getting doing kicking-it ruled him&lt;br /&gt;his phonecall messages that would go on for minutes&lt;br /&gt;singing me songs about crickets&lt;br /&gt;or coming over and parking in my neighbors driveway&lt;br /&gt;or going thru the streets on spring cleaning collecting treasure&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i loved mike with all of me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when i found out that he died, he had already been dead for months.&lt;br /&gt;i wept&lt;br /&gt;for his parents&lt;br /&gt;how sad.&lt;br /&gt;i knew he had been clean for the longest time ever when he died.&lt;br /&gt;fuck&lt;br /&gt;taken out by the h train, was how it was told to me.&lt;br /&gt;needle in his arm when he died in some alley in LA.&lt;br /&gt;or so the story goes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-123115096153309955?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/123115096153309955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=123115096153309955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/123115096153309955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/123115096153309955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2007/07/you-insult-my-people.html' title='you insult my people'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-7979298717350861327</id><published>2007-07-13T12:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T13:42:27.164-07:00</updated><title type='text'>be here now</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5Cowner%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Font Definitions */  @font-face 	{font-family:Verdana; 	panose-1:2 11 6 4 3 5 4 4 2 4; 	mso-font-charset:0; 	mso-generic-font-family:swiss; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:-1593833729 1073750107 16 0 415 0;}  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:11.0in 8.5in; 	mso-page-orientation:landscape; 	margin:9.35pt 1.0in 9.35pt 1.0in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;she's a sleepy vampire.&lt;br /&gt;there have been moments in my life that i have felt absolute secure in who i am &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;where i am &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;and what i am doing here&lt;br /&gt;truly&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;some people search their whole lives for that.&lt;br /&gt;i think it happens the second you are just &lt;b style=""&gt;here now&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;i read &lt;i style=""&gt;be here now&lt;/i&gt; when i was 19&lt;br /&gt;forever my life has changed.&lt;br /&gt;i read the &lt;i style=""&gt;celestine prophecy&lt;/i&gt; in 2001 after my head injury&lt;br /&gt;ahhh the anniversary of my head injury.&lt;br /&gt;6sixsix&lt;br /&gt;the 6th anniversary of my head injury&lt;br /&gt;the 6th anniversary of his death&lt;br /&gt;i masturbated and thought about him on that day&lt;br /&gt;i couldn't figure out if it was creepy-sick or just plain hot.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;because it was hot.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;it may also have been creepy and sick.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;after he died...i was left without masturbation fodder. he was the main source of that. he died, i felt it inappropriate for a long time to think about him. and then when i would have dreams of fucking him...&lt;br /&gt;he always at some point during the dream, and usually it was when we were fucking....&lt;br /&gt;he looked how he did in his coffin&lt;br /&gt;which made even dreams creepy-sick.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;time heals all wounds.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;that picture didn't pop into my head this time.&lt;br /&gt;6years have passed.&lt;br /&gt;oh.i still VIVVIDLY remember what he looked like in his coffin.&lt;br /&gt;i just remember other things now as well.&lt;br /&gt;his death was profound.&lt;br /&gt;i was single for the 6 years that i was fucking him.&lt;br /&gt;i don't cheat. period.&lt;br /&gt;and i knew that no one was going to come close to what he was giving me.&lt;br /&gt;so. i never committed. i dated other guys.&lt;br /&gt;but none of them were anything of a boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;he died, i had no idea what to do. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;i commit. that week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;karma is a mother fucker.&lt;br /&gt;a mother fucker.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i got mine served on a fucking silver platter with a plastic spork&lt;br /&gt;BOOM!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;served.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i learned from it.&lt;br /&gt;i was very ok with the karma, and it lessened the pain of death for a second.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-7979298717350861327?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/7979298717350861327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=7979298717350861327' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/7979298717350861327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/7979298717350861327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2007/07/be-here-now.html' title='be here now'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-4795464046646309745</id><published>2007-07-10T19:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T13:55:38.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>....during the hardest times....</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;the good i am seeking is seeking me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;i have the power to make this happen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;i am rocked in the cradle of love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;my life will be what i want it to be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;fulfillment is within&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;the money i need is needing me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;i draw in the things i need&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;my needs will be met with belief&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;the tests of time are only tests&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;your behavior defines you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;keep your head above water&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;sleep within the arms of love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;bless yourself every minute&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;it is not on my shoulders to make everything happen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;i couple need with fulfillment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;my gratitude shines&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;i will have integrity in my pursuits&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-4795464046646309745?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/4795464046646309745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=4795464046646309745' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/4795464046646309745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/4795464046646309745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2007/07/during-hardest-times.html' title='....during the hardest times....'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-1234343238953619619</id><published>2007-07-03T00:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T23:40:04.459-07:00</updated><title type='text'>spring is in the air</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sometimes it really is just the weather.&lt;br /&gt;the first breaths of spring.&lt;br /&gt;the air crisp from the ocean, you can smell the seaweed after a good crisp breeze. you can feel the moisture in the air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i went to the ocean today.&lt;br /&gt;i went with spiderman.&lt;br /&gt;it was awesome.&lt;br /&gt;we stood holding hands on the tall rocks that jut out into the water  watching the waves crash into us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-1234343238953619619?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/1234343238953619619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=1234343238953619619' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/1234343238953619619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/1234343238953619619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2007/07/spring-is-in-air.html' title='spring is in the air'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-2029179153871849322</id><published>2007-06-30T13:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T13:59:47.426-07:00</updated><title type='text'>bitter bitter pill to swallow</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" 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&lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:11.0in 8.5in; 	mso-page-orientation:landscape; 	margin:9.35pt 1.0in 9.35pt 1.0in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I HAVE HIT THE WALL.&lt;br /&gt;YOU KNOW THE ONE.&lt;br /&gt;IT LOOKS ALMOST LIKE YOU COULD WALK THROUGH IT, SO YOU END UP WITH THIS HUGE LUMP ON YOUR HEAD BECAUSE YOU TRY.&lt;br /&gt;AND THEN...YOU EVEN TRY AGAIN BECAUSE THIS TIME &lt;i&gt;JUST MIGHT&lt;/i&gt; BE DIFFERENT.&lt;br /&gt;THAT WALL. THAT ONE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I THOUGHT THAT HE WAS DIFFERENT....&lt;br /&gt;(HOW MANY STORIES CAN START THAT WAY??&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHAHA OH! so god damn many ....)&lt;br /&gt;IN REALITY...THEY ARE ALL THE SAME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LONG AGO AND FAR AWAY-&lt;br /&gt;I HAD &lt;b&gt;NO BELIEF IN A GOOD MAN&lt;/b&gt;. THEY WERE ALL LIARS, CHEATERS, THIEVES, HYPOCRITES...AND THEY ALL WANTED THEIR CAKE&lt;br /&gt;AND WERE EATING IT RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, AND NEVER OFFERED ME A BITE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;THEN&lt;/i&gt;~&lt;br /&gt;I FOUND A COUPLE OF GOOD 'ENS.&lt;br /&gt;REAL REAL GOOD 'ENS.&lt;br /&gt;THEY WERE VIRTUALLY INFALLIBLE.&lt;br /&gt;(THEREIN LIES THE FIRST PROBLEM)&lt;br /&gt;SUCH BEAUTIFUL AND WELL MAINTAINED PEDESTALS THEY SAT ON.&lt;br /&gt;SO FULL OF KINDNESS, FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, AND DEVOTION.&lt;br /&gt;THE PUREST FORMS OF THOSE VIRTUES THAT I HAVE EVER FELT.&lt;br /&gt;THEY WERE STAND UP GUYS.&lt;br /&gt;THE ONES DREAMS, LIKE MINE, WERE MADE OF.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;THEN&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;THEY FAILED&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;THEY WERE INVISIBLE. MAYBE THEY NEVER EXISTED AT ALL.&lt;br /&gt;MAYBE THEY WERE ALL A FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION.&lt;br /&gt;I MADE THEM UP FOR SOMETHING OR SOMEONE TO BELIEVE IN...?&lt;br /&gt;WHATEVER THE CASE...&lt;br /&gt;THEY TURNED OUT TO BE CHUMPS.&lt;br /&gt;DOUCHEBAGS.&lt;br /&gt;SHMUCKS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 16pt;"&gt;HHHUMMMPPFF&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THEY FAILED ME, THEY FAILED THEIR GIRLFRIENDS, THEY FAILED THEIR CHILDREN, THEY FAILED MY CHILDREN.&lt;br /&gt;THEY BECAME THE WORST OF THE WORST.&lt;br /&gt;IN ONE FELL SWOOP THEY ALL FELL OFF THE CHARTS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND I WAS LEFT WITH &lt;b&gt;NO BELIEF IN A GOOD MAN.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-2029179153871849322?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/2029179153871849322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=2029179153871849322' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/2029179153871849322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/2029179153871849322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2007/06/bitter-bitter-pill-to-swallow.html' title='bitter bitter pill to swallow'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-6913852502389839527</id><published>2007-06-10T14:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-10T14:46:40.988-07:00</updated><title type='text'>oh. i have known a few.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.hss.caltech.edu/%7Emcafee/Bin/sb.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;http://www.hss.caltech.edu/~mcafee/Bin/sb.html&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;h3&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana,tahoma,arial;"&gt;Profile of the Sociopath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana,tahoma,arial;"&gt;This website summarizes some of the common features of descriptions of the behavior of sociopaths.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana,tahoma,arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Glibness and Superficial Charm  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Manipulative and Conning&lt;br /&gt;They never recognize the rights of others and see their self-serving behaviors as permissible. They appear to be charming, yet are covertly hostile and domineering, seeing their victim as merely an instrument to be used. They may dominate and humiliate their victims.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Grandiose Sense of Self&lt;br /&gt;Feels entitled to certain things as "their right." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pathological Lying&lt;br /&gt;Has no problem lying coolly and easily and it is almost impossible for them to be truthful on a consistent basis. Can create, and get caught up in, a complex belief about their own powers and abilities. Extremely convincing and even able to pass lie detector tests.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lack of Remorse, Shame or Guilt&lt;br /&gt;A deep seated rage, which is split off and repressed, is at their core. Does not see others around them as people, but only as targets and opportunities. Instead of friends, they have victims and accomplices who end up as victims. The end always justifies the means and they let nothing stand in their way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Shallow Emotions&lt;br /&gt;When they show what seems to be warmth, joy, love and compassion it is more feigned than experienced and serves an ulterior motive. Outraged by insignificant matters, yet remaining unmoved and cold by what would upset a normal person. Since they are not genuine, neither are their promises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Incapacity for Love &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Need for Stimulation&lt;br /&gt;Living on the edge. Verbal outbursts and physical punishments are normal.  Promiscuity and gambling are common. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Callousness/Lack of Empathy&lt;br /&gt;Unable to empathize with the pain of their victims, having only contempt for others' feelings of distress and readily taking advantage of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Poor Behavioral Controls/Impulsive Nature&lt;br /&gt;Rage and abuse, alternating with small expressions of love and approval produce an addictive cycle for abuser and abused, as well as creating hopelessness in the victim. Believe they are all-powerful, all-knowing, entitled to every wish, no sense of personal boundaries, no concern for their impact on others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Early Behavior Problems/Juvenile Delinquency&lt;br /&gt;Usually has a history of behavioral and academic difficulties, yet "gets by" by conning others. Problems in making and keeping friends; aberrant behaviors such as cruelty to people or animals, stealing, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Irresponsibility/Unreliability&lt;br /&gt;Not concerned about wrecking others' lives and dreams. Oblivious or indifferent to the devastation they cause. Does not accept blame themselves, but blames others, even for acts they obviously committed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Promiscuous Sexual Behavior/Infidelity&lt;br /&gt;Promiscuity, child sexual abuse, rape and sexual acting out of all sorts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lack of Realistic Life Plan/Parasitic Lifestyle&lt;br /&gt;Tends to move around a lot or makes all encompassing promises for the future, poor work ethic but exploits others effectively. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Criminal or Entrepreneurial Versatility&lt;br /&gt;Changes their image as needed to avoid prosecution.  Changes life story readily. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;hr /&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana,tahoma,arial;"&gt;Other Related Qualities:    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana,tahoma,arial;"&gt;&lt;li&gt;Contemptuous of those who seek to understand them &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Does not perceive that anything is wrong with them &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Authoritarian &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Secretive &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Paranoid &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Only rarely in difficulty with the law, but seeks out situations where their tyrannical behavior will be tolerated, condoned, or admired &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Conventional appearance &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Goal of enslavement of their victim(s) &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Exercises despotic control over every aspect of the victim's life &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Has an emotional need to justify their crimes and therefore needs their victim's affirmation (respect, gratitude and love) &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ultimate goal is the creation of a willing victim &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Incapable of real human attachment to another &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Unable to feel remorse or guilt &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Extreme narcissism and grandiose &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;May state readily that their goal is to rule the world  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/ol&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: verdana,tahoma,arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The above traits are based on the psychopathy checklists of H. Cleckley and R. Hare.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana,tahoma,arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOTE: In the 1830's this disorder was called "moral insanity." By 1900 it was changed to "psychopathic personality." More recently it has been termed "antisocial personality disorder" in the DSM-III and DSM-IV. Some critics have complained that, in the attempt to rely only on 'objective' criteria, the DSM has broadened the concept to include too many individuals. The APD category includes people who commit illegal, immoral or self-serving acts for a variety of reasons and are not necessarily psychopaths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana,tahoma,arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;DSM-IV Definition&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Antisocial personality disorder is characterized by a lack of regard for the moral or legal standards in the local culture. There is a marked inability to get along with others or abide by societal rules. Individuals with this disorder are sometimes called psychopaths or sociopaths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Diagnostic Criteria (DSM-IV)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Since the age of fifteen there has been a disregard for and violation of the right's of others, those right's considered normal by the local culture, as indicated by at least three of the following:&lt;br /&gt;    A. Repeated acts that could lead to arrest.&lt;br /&gt;    B. Conning for pleasure or profit, repeated lying, or the use of aliases.&lt;br /&gt;    C. Failure to plan ahead or being impulsive.&lt;br /&gt;    D. Repeated assaults on others.&lt;br /&gt;    E. Reckless when it comes to their or others safety.&lt;br /&gt;    F. Poor work behavior or failure to honor financial obligations.&lt;br /&gt;    G. Rationalizing the pain they inflict on others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. At least eighteen years in age.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Evidence of a Conduct Disorder, with its onset before the age of fifteen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Symptoms not due to another mental disorder. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the truth of the matter&lt;br /&gt;we always date our dad.&lt;br /&gt;my dad is very much a sociopath. i have known this since i was a teen&lt;br /&gt;and not from my mom or family, but from my own research and deductive reasoning. the guy is textbook, and so are a few i have been involved with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;definitely the guy who's name i tattooed on me.&lt;br /&gt;definitely chode island.&lt;br /&gt;a few from my twenties and a couple from my years prior.&lt;br /&gt;the ones i have fallen the hardest for.&lt;br /&gt;it is true that we fall for our dads. some chicks have better genes than i.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the lies and deceit i have fallen for or just let go....&lt;br /&gt;knowing that all of it would eventually blow up only made me hold on tighter in some cases.&lt;br /&gt;this last sociopath. never saw it coming.&lt;br /&gt;figured i was just in it for a goodtime how could that go wrong?&lt;br /&gt;haha&lt;br /&gt;well, i could fly to fucking chode island only to get some bullshit story when i got there.&lt;br /&gt;lordy.&lt;br /&gt;i certainly made the most of that!!&lt;br /&gt;he fits the bill. total sociopath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-6913852502389839527?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/6913852502389839527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=6913852502389839527' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/6913852502389839527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/6913852502389839527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2007/06/oh-i-have-known-few.html' title='oh. i have known a few.'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-115433502396113717</id><published>2006-07-31T01:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-31T01:39:00.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>some quick get to know you....</title><content type='html'>Where did you grow up?&lt;br /&gt;i lived in hayward/castro valley until i was 9&lt;br /&gt;then we moved in the middle of the night to my grandparents trailer in manteca, ca...which is where i spent my 'formative' years.my grandparents owned the bar, in the trailer park, on the delta.whoa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was your family life like?&lt;br /&gt;my mom was a 'practicing' alcoholic until i was 16&lt;br /&gt;she has now been sober for 19 years.&lt;br /&gt;the rest of my family is drunks. white trash,coors drinking, country listening...drunks.&lt;br /&gt;only drink at home, have no friends....judge everyone,know everything...&lt;br /&gt;i have not talked to or hung out with them in over 10 years. they see my children...once in a great while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How old were you when you had your first sexual experience?&lt;br /&gt;consensual-14&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what/how was it?&lt;br /&gt;it was with kenny. he was 17 and he fingered me-but didn't kiss me. i had not had my first kiss yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Were you sexually assaulted in your youth?&lt;br /&gt;yes. 3 times.&lt;br /&gt;the first time i had sex i was raped. i was 14 he was 18...he worshipped the devil...or some shit.&lt;br /&gt;the second time was 2 days later his friends came over and molested me and gave me marks all over, then he came back and beat the shit out of me for fucking around with his friends.??&lt;br /&gt;this went on until i moved from that side of town. they terrorized me.broke the windows out of my classroom, spray painted my house and my mom's car, spray painted the school with shit about me, which then i had to try not to tell the police that i knew who it was....it went on for about a year. they moved in on my block....it was horrible.my mom barely noticed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you on good terms with your family?&lt;br /&gt;i have created my own family and have known most of them at least 15-20 years. some are newer at just over 3 years...but i love them and they truly are my family.&lt;br /&gt;i am completely estranged from my blood relatives..and prefer it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you do for a living?&lt;br /&gt;i work in a sober living environment.(sle).&lt;br /&gt;i work in the kitchen.i love my boss and i love seeing people who honestly want change in their lives.&lt;br /&gt;the sobriety is a little overwhelming at times, as well as the open-ness of the whole vibe...&lt;br /&gt;my actual job is awesome as well.i go in and everyday i have to make salad and vegetables for 35 people.&lt;br /&gt;i love salad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you happy with that?&lt;br /&gt;it is the best job, as far as my happiness, goes....&lt;br /&gt;i am going to be entering the program to become a drug conselor..i am looking forward to the change and school and the whole 'career' trip. it is something i have always wanted to pursue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think you are someone worth knowing?&lt;br /&gt;my wit alone makes me worth knowing.&lt;br /&gt;really. i am pretty fucking funny.&lt;br /&gt;i am fiercely loyal.totally honest.down as fuck for my friends....&lt;br /&gt;and the chaos that surrounds me can be fairly entertaining at times.&lt;br /&gt;and i am easy on the eyes most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;so...yea. i am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you contribute to the world (do you "bring something to the party")?&lt;br /&gt;i bring to the party alright.....&lt;br /&gt;i help old people across the street.really i have.&lt;br /&gt;my contribution is daily.....&lt;br /&gt;i practice truly cryptic acts of deviance.&lt;br /&gt;and as much evil as i can without completely fucking up my children....&lt;br /&gt;i always try and put the wrench in the system&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you orgasm easily with a partner?&lt;br /&gt;no.in fact my top 3 lovers...i don't/didn't orgasm with at all. (that's not what i was there for)&lt;br /&gt;it has been very rare that i go quick...&lt;br /&gt;and i never count on it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you orgasm during vaginal intercourse?&lt;br /&gt;i cum. but for me orgasm takes the c to the lit.&lt;br /&gt;i remain in a state of cum...my pussy gets wet easy and stays that way....especially if things go 'my way'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you have any fetishes or perversions or indulgances which you do not readily share with most partners?&lt;br /&gt;i want to be beaten.beat.beyond where you think you should go.more than you think you should hit me.please.much more than a spanking...and if you could give me scars...even better&lt;br /&gt;marks go away.&lt;br /&gt;i got beat with a paddle at my birthday...the bands, my friends, whoever...it wasn't enough.&lt;br /&gt;there has been 2 that have been able to do it.just 2.&lt;br /&gt;they beat me into submission over and over.&lt;br /&gt;i cowered out of actual fear, not to be playing the game.&lt;br /&gt;there are scars.finally.i have written stories.&lt;br /&gt;i am currently playing with someone that is down to beat me.we are just starting.i can see it going well.&lt;br /&gt;i have wanted a blackeye.&lt;br /&gt;my friend has informed me that she feels like i am crossing the line with that...&lt;br /&gt;would you do it? really. would you give me a blackeye?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are your thoughts on marriage?&lt;br /&gt;the day has passed for me.&lt;br /&gt;if i didn't get married on 666.there is no point.&lt;br /&gt;i have never had a relationship longer than 11 months.&lt;br /&gt;ever. and i have only had 4 boyfriends.&lt;br /&gt;i just do not fuck around and put up with much bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;i have however had multiple long term sexual relationships. that have lasted many years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How fast do you think you could make me a sandwich?&lt;br /&gt;3-4 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think i would do to you if you made that sandwich poorly and/or took too long making it?&lt;br /&gt;i would really hope that you would give me a blackeye, by backhanding me, throw the sandwich unto the floor, and me behind it, by the back of my head/hair, force me to pick it up,hit me repeatedly with your hands, and sometimes fingering me roughly,yell at me to make a new one, stop crying, severely punish me with a riding crop while i made the new one.&lt;br /&gt;hate it. throw it on the floor....&lt;br /&gt;and then start the whole thing over again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-115433502396113717?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/115433502396113717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=115433502396113717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/115433502396113717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/115433502396113717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2006/07/some-quick-get-to-know-you.html' title='some quick get to know you....'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-115361875520503925</id><published>2006-07-22T18:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-22T18:39:15.306-07:00</updated><title type='text'>haikus</title><content type='html'>hot, passion, sex-play&lt;br /&gt;was supposed to be my day&lt;br /&gt;instead i'm just here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was craving it&lt;br /&gt;wanted all of him today&lt;br /&gt;was going to give&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he called last minute&lt;br /&gt;'too much stuff to do' he said&lt;br /&gt;put me on that list!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nope. just had ice cream&lt;br /&gt;no big sex for me today&lt;br /&gt;but ice cream was great&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hot local action&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-115361875520503925?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/115361875520503925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=115361875520503925' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/115361875520503925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/115361875520503925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2006/07/haikus.html' title='haikus'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-115355682663703970</id><published>2006-07-22T01:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T13:30:53.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'>know when to leave 'em</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta 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&lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if !mso]&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"&gt;&lt;/object&gt; &lt;style&gt; st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Font Definitions */  @font-face 	{font-family:Tahoma; 	panose-1:2 11 6 4 3 5 4 4 2 4; 	mso-font-charset:0; 	mso-generic-font-family:swiss; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:-520078593 -1073717157 41 0 66047 0;} @font-face 	{font-family:FangSong; 	panose-1:2 1 6 9 6 1 1 1 1 1; 	mso-font-charset:134; 	mso-generic-font-family:modern; 	mso-font-pitch:fixed; 	mso-font-signature:-2147482945 953122042 22 0 262145 0;} @font-face 	{font-family:"\@FangSong"; 	panose-1:2 1 6 9 6 1 1 1 1 1; 	mso-font-charset:134; 	mso-generic-font-family:modern; 	mso-font-pitch:fixed; 	mso-font-signature:-2147482945 953122042 22 0 262145 0;} @font-face 	{font-family:Garamond; 	panose-1:2 2 4 4 3 3 1 1 8 3; 	mso-font-charset:0; 	mso-generic-font-family:roman; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;}  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:11.0in 8.5in; 	mso-page-orientation:landscape; 	margin:9.35pt 1.0in 9.35pt 1.0in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;::.Before he hit &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Me.&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt;::&lt;br /&gt;A LITTLE DOMESTIC V FOR YA&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;I have fist fought more than a couple of guys. I have actually fought three times more guys than girls.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;It was not about winning, &lt;b style=""&gt;which I never did&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;It was about not backing down just because I knew I was going to lose.&lt;br /&gt;It was about not looking away because they told me to.&lt;br /&gt;Not being shushed, not shutting up because they have a dick and they told me to, it was about being angry at them for whatever and not being afraid to yell it at them, because of their sex/size or what they had between their legs.&lt;br /&gt;Not being afraid to be in the right and big dog some mother fucker for being in the oh-so wrong.&lt;br /&gt;Just because I'M the little bitch dog in this situation isn't enough of a reason for me to be quiet and subservient.&lt;br /&gt;when you add passion, anger, sometimes love, and &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;maybe sometimes a side of vengeance... &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;well, I can get quite loud and mouthy.&lt;br /&gt;I manned up and it was worth it every time.&lt;br /&gt;I don't think it’s always inappropriate for a guy to hit a girl. I think I deserved it on more than a few occasions. I think it keeps the playing field a bit more even to be hit back.&lt;br /&gt;The same reason that keeps me from backing down is the reason that I have been hit BACK by a guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pride. Truth To Yourself. that Fuck It All inside that lets you know you need to swing…&lt;br /&gt;Let’s be fair. I hit them. I did it with all the strength I had, I did it to hurt them (and I made sure it did), I did it knowing that- yes. I might be hit right back.&lt;br /&gt;However, I didn't start it every time. I didn’t even start it MOST of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember this one ass, totally started a fight with me upon seeing me.&lt;br /&gt;I walked into the bar, I hated this bar, I had been called out there once before, and once since (both the other 2 times were equally as fucked.)&lt;br /&gt;This ass saw me; he crossed the entry, got all up in my face and was screaming at me about what a fucking lame bitch I was. Starting to spit while he was screaming.&lt;br /&gt;Don’t spit at me, on me, near me… instant line crosser for me.&lt;br /&gt;I knew this ass in high school! 14 years ago we had this drug/$100 issue. 14 years ago. We had not seen each other since. This was stupid. He called me a dirty bitch and just would not shut the fuck up. He was wasted and about 6'2".&lt;br /&gt;He pushed my shoulders, all guy-fight-me style.&lt;br /&gt;I pushed him back as hard as I fucking could, knowing that he was going to stumble backwards, and hoping that someone would stop him short of the punch I knew would be coming my direction..&lt;br /&gt;Indeed. my plan worked.&lt;br /&gt;He got a fucking black eye from some random guy for trying to fight me, and he and his friends got 86'd.&lt;br /&gt;Which meant nothing to me, because I left before any of that ever happened.&lt;br /&gt;I hate that bar. Fuck that place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have fist fought a few ex-boyfriends at varying stages of the relationship. I think that those got the most physical, and the most passionate. love hate hate love. sometimes love ended in blows.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;sex is violent. sex is violent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had the wind knocked out of me more times than I care to count. It is a doozy for me. I am an air sign. Having the wind taken from me really fucks me up.&lt;br /&gt;A couple of black eyes, bruised back, torso, legs, arms, and neck, smashed knee, broken rib, bruised collar bone, pushed down so hard that I fucking lost space and time for a second or three, I have bruised my hands hitting back. I have given a few black eyes, bitten until they bled, scratched until they wished they would have never started with me. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;I don’t back down. that just has never been part of me. I don’t wanna own that behavior. I didn’t wanna fight, but I wouldn’t back down either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does violence beget violence? My sex is rough and violent so I will fist fight those guys as well?&lt;br /&gt;fist fighting and fucking are so close-are they so close?&lt;br /&gt;hmmm….&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;sex is violent sex is violent.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In high school a friend and I used to &lt;b style=""&gt;beat the fuck&lt;/b&gt; out of each other before we just started fucking. For a good 6 months (I was 14 he was 16) we would fight and fight to the end. bruises were just a small part of what we each endured during that. I was slammed into a table so hard that the wind air and sight was gone from my body. My teachers asked me what the bruises were from-&lt;br /&gt;(I told them my mom did it. I hated my mom-this introduced a really fucked up-blessing in disguise- element-to my environment)&lt;br /&gt;He would restrain me and torture me. almost spit on me, hold me down, make me struggle, fight against his strength, squirm under his weight. I would bite him; give him the best hits I could. kick him as hard as I could, spit in his face. Whatever I could.&lt;br /&gt;I looked forward to the aggression and the hate that we let out after school. I looked forward to trying in vain to win.&lt;br /&gt;this release was a huge joy of mine. this restraint was a way to control all the elements I had no control over.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those marks are identical to some of the marks I have had after the best sex of my life.&lt;br /&gt;Is that any different?&lt;br /&gt;We were 14 and 16.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;The restraint.&lt;br /&gt;The violence.&lt;br /&gt;Fighting fucking fucking fighting&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have fought over being cheated on. I have fought a dumb guy because I NEVER EVER fucked him, and he knew I NEVER would.&lt;br /&gt;I have fought way more guys then I have girls. I have thrown the first punch, I have taken the first one and swung back.&lt;br /&gt;Passion. Hate. Seeing red. Knowing better and fucking all to that thought.&lt;br /&gt;I have also given a few black eyes, I kicked out this guys knee, hit someone else with a wine bottle, I have fought to win, even when I knew I wouldn’t. I have kicked someone amazingly hard in the mouth, causing mass bleeding and myself to get the black eye of my life. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;I have this really effective solid punch to the solar plexus that I like to use, knocking the wind out of more than a few.&lt;br /&gt;But the most severe of my injuries given are bites. I can think of 7 people that might be reading this that I have bitten.&lt;br /&gt;I am a biter. I use it as a defense. Sometimes it just happens.&lt;br /&gt;I have broken the skin several times, caused scarring, and definitely bleeding and bruising.&lt;br /&gt;I bit through someone’s jeans in high school, and then again in our twenties. The first time there may have been a need for some stitches. I have bitten a chunk out of some guy’s arm that was restraining me.&lt;br /&gt;It is a skill I have perfected and employed when needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been defended by strangers a few times in fights.&lt;br /&gt;Guys like to fight and sometimes I am just a catalyst to &lt;i style=""&gt;their fight.&lt;/i&gt; Which I find even worse than trying to fight me in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fist fighting fucking&lt;br /&gt;Is it all about boundaries?&lt;br /&gt;Violent sex is almost the same rush as fighting.&lt;br /&gt;The same rush with much different boundaries.&lt;br /&gt;I have limits. I have boundaries. I have taken a lot of shit, but I also dish it out.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;I learned these lessons early on:&lt;br /&gt;Walking away is for before you are called out.&lt;br /&gt;Dish out only what you can take.&lt;br /&gt;Size up your opponent when you meet.&lt;br /&gt;Back up whatever you say.&lt;br /&gt;Saying nothing lets them shoot themselves in the foot.&lt;br /&gt;.:: sex is violent::.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;so you found a girl who thinks really deep thoughts&lt;br /&gt;what's so amazing about really deep thoughts boy&lt;br /&gt;you best pray that I bleed real soon how's that&lt;br /&gt;thought for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* once….Just once.&lt;br /&gt;I walked away. I knew it was coming. The signs were all there.&lt;br /&gt;The first time we fought (years prior to this time) I fell back, wind knocked outta me by another air sign, taken by storm. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;This time I fell so hard that when I hit the ground my shoulders felt like they touched.&lt;br /&gt;It hurt. I got up and I walked away.&lt;br /&gt;It changed the course of everything forever.&lt;br /&gt;For the best, I am sure of that.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: Garamond;"&gt;You got to know when to hold em, know when to fold em,&lt;br /&gt;Know when to walk away and know when to run.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-115355682663703970?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/115355682663703970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=115355682663703970' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/115355682663703970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/115355682663703970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2006/07/know-when-to-leave-em.html' title='know when to leave &apos;em'/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-115355661775283468</id><published>2006-07-22T01:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-22T01:23:37.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>666 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i had one hell of a time at the parade today....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;gay pride bitches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then my sister and i laughed all the way home and talked and i was having so much fun...&lt;br /&gt;not even the kind of fun where you wonder if the bottom will fall out fun. a truly good time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we were driving down the street, talking about kevin my best friend of many years from stockton, how awesome he is and how he should pimp my ride and what we could do to it, and how fucking cool he is.&lt;br /&gt;we get to the top of the hill by my house, and there is a galaxie just like kevin's. i tell my sister that it looks like his car,and how much it looks like his car... she says wouldn't it be weird if he were eating at the taqueria by my apt(he hasn't been here yet and didn't know where i live), we are at the light and out walks kevin.&lt;br /&gt;no fucking way.&lt;br /&gt;i love moments like this.&lt;br /&gt;where life embraces you and shows you that things are exactly what they are supposed to be and you are where you should be at that moment.&lt;br /&gt;the light takes forever to turn green.&lt;br /&gt;we are waving at eachother and i just cannot wait to hug him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i park the car, jump out.&lt;br /&gt;amanda and i tell him how fucking cosmic and crazy it is that he is right by my apt and more importantly, that we were JUST talking about him!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he says he is eating with his girlfriend....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she is the daughter of a fucking cuntbitchslagwhore&lt;br /&gt;that i don't like.&lt;br /&gt;she has challenged my friendship with kevin recently&lt;br /&gt;trying to drive the wedge of a young stupid girl between us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he says that he is going to come over when he is done eating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then he never does.&lt;br /&gt;no call&lt;br /&gt;NOTHING&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my heart is broken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hope she chokes on her bittersweet revenge against me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hope that his weak ass girlfriend relizes that she is too young and far too stupid to know what to do with the revege once she has it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hope she dies sad and alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hope that her fucking whore bitch cunt of a mother shrivels up from coke use and evaporates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no one would miss them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;except kevin i guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hate steffani and her mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hate guys that are SO FUCKING WEAK that they have to choose because some stupid piece of trash ass tells them to.&lt;br /&gt;i hate feeling so fucking cosmic and elated only to be suckerpunched by some bitch.&lt;br /&gt;my friendship with him has been defined, as much as that breaks my heart, and it does.....&lt;br /&gt;i can still say that i would never be a fucking punkass bitch and let someone do that to a relationship of mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;perhaps that is why i don't&lt;br /&gt;long term relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fuck em.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-115355661775283468?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/115355661775283468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=115355661775283468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/115355661775283468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/115355661775283468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2006/07/666-i-had-one-hell-of-time-at-parade.html' title=''/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31489550.post-115355633499816507</id><published>2006-07-22T01:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-22T01:18:55.006-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;let's get lost in the magic place&lt;br /&gt;1. My ex is...is a scientistand a cyborg&lt;br /&gt;2. I am listening to...the cure singing joy division's 'love will tear us apart'(which is one of my all time favorite songs)&lt;br /&gt;3. Maybe I should..turn it up&lt;br /&gt;4. I love...to laugh...mary poppins yo&lt;br /&gt;5. My bestfriend...is a cocksucker*bff 666&lt;br /&gt;6. I don't understand...the way she can take it all and not even sweat it.&lt;br /&gt;7. I lost...all confidence in my own abilities after seeing her.&lt;br /&gt;8. People are...people..so why should it be..&lt;br /&gt;10. Love is....a warm puppy&lt;br /&gt;11. Somewhere, someone is..lying there in a ditch&lt;br /&gt;12. I will always...give a fake name&lt;br /&gt;13. Forever seems...way too long to make a promise about&lt;br /&gt;14. I never want to...eat chicken&lt;br /&gt;15. My mobile phone...is soo text friendly.&lt;br /&gt;16. when I wake up in the morning..i put on music&lt;br /&gt;17. I get annoyed when..i'm hungry&lt;br /&gt;18. Parties are...talked about for years&lt;br /&gt;19. My Pets are...loud fast and outta control&lt;br /&gt;20. Kisses are the best when..stolen&lt;br /&gt;21. Today I...thought about last night&lt;br /&gt;22. Tomorrow I will...have more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31489550-115355633499816507?l=robotblood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/feeds/115355633499816507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31489550&amp;postID=115355633499816507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/115355633499816507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31489550/posts/default/115355633499816507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robotblood.blogspot.com/2006/07/lets-get-lost-in-magic-place-1.html' title=''/><author><name>tabitha loveday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/6597/blog185hl.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
