Thursday, April 30, 2009

My heart is in nuclear winter right now

After my married lover left the other night, there was a nuclear strike on my heart. I have cried almost non stop for two days now. My heart is as barren and as cold and lonely as the artic wastelands. I am trying to get myself together a little cuz my therapist is coming over today to see me. I called her early today and asked her to please not come over. She is coming anyway, to inspect the damage I suppose. Like a claims adjustor. Only this is my soul in disrepair. I have been in bed, lanquishing all day in hell. I feel like I've got the lethal swine flu that is going around now, except it is all emotions. I feel just as sick as if I have the flu. Depression is a killer. I feel smothered and flattened by it. I don't eat. I forget to breathe sometimes cuz I just can't be bothered. Automation kicks in, and I drag in a shallow breathe. When I cry to my friends, they say, "Well you knew where this road was leading you.". I know, but he was worth it. As bad as I feel now, he was worth it.

My married lover says he is willing to keep seeing me, and would do his best to make time for me, but I feel like is beating a dead horse. He says his daughters are his number one priority, and to keep them from any kind of emotional harm, he will do anything in his power to keep his relationship with their mother safe. And if that means eating crow sometimes, then he will do it. I tell him, of course I understand that, and to go and eat crow and go back to his wife--that he is a good man, and that I only dreamt of having a man like him in my life. Faithful, kind, sweet, caring. I could see in many different ways by his unconcious acts with me that he is that way in reality. After he left the other night, my friend brought up half a birthday cake and I ate most of it. I just stuffed it down. She joined in, and it was gone fast. Living in the tower of sadness as we do, we give into it sometimes.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

An Exercise In Futility?

I am very confused these days. I have been chatting with hundreds of hot european men that say beautiful things to me, and I am alone and no boyfriend. WTF!!!!??? Stinks man.

So, I have given in and have started dated this hot married guy. We have mutual crushes on each other. He is handsome from head to toe. Beautiful silky dark brown hair. Long and falling into my face. Soft dark eyes, penetrating. Of course, I am prone to stare at dark men anyway. They are all so exotic to me. Nice firm tall body. His arms tighten around me, strong and gentle at the same time. His deep kisses take my breath away. He says the same of my smooches. I like sucking his tongue. He likes my lower lip.. Says it is soft. I like kissing him everywhere.

I don't feel like this with most men. It is a pleasure to feel reciprocal affection. My nerves tingle all over my body. His kisses blaze a trail to my triangle. I get hot just thinking of him. I set up a big mirror next to my bed to catch everything. I am a little kinky and like to get spanked. He is very passionate. Smells good. Tastes good. Feels good and deep. I quiver all over when he touches me. Can't stop moving. He is sweet and gentle. He says sweet things that I believe he means.

He is creative and smart. He sits at my computer and writes song lyrics for this 13 minute movie his friend has done. I tell him that he is so handsome for the 10th time today. I feel like I am gushing, but don't want to stop flooding him with compliments. How much I appreciate him. How sexy he looks in his jeans and sweater--barefoot and texting on his cell. I stare at him and tell him that it isn't often that I have a handsome man sitting in my living room. I tell him that I am just going to enjoy myself while I have him, because it may end at any time. Oh!! Here comes first pang of pain and sadness.

Long story short, when he leaves, I try to be brave. He is going home to his wife and two little girls. He is a good dad, I can tell, the way he talks about how lovely his girls are. Pang! Dagger to heart. His wife is a successful editor and writer. She is buff. She is a go getter. She runs miles and miles. She is married to my hot honey. He does not know what to do about his relationship with her. She has burnt out on him after 19 yrs of marriage. He tells me that he wants to be with me. He says that it is always good when you first get into a relationship, and we must take it slow. He tells me a joke about how you can tell the difference between lovers and old married couple.

I feel guilt about maybe taking him away from his family. I feel a little jealous, but I understand where he is coming from. He is honest about it. Said she has broken his heart. Says she stays out all night sometimes and has seen her slip her phone number to men. I am not blaming her, I don't know. How can you love someone and be with them 24/7 for so many years?

At least I know he is a good man. He was faithful 19 years and is devoted to his family. Maybe I should just date married men? I have always turned them down, but at least they know how to have a relationship. I asked him where he had been all my life. Oh yeah! Happily married. Pang! Dagger to heart. I wonder why I have been left out of life and love.

LA men are so stupid and selfish. All my loser boyfriends try to come back to me, and I won't let them. They realize after I am totally done with them for good that I am a good woman to have. I am kind and considerate and giving. An animal lover. I am very child like and small. I have tiny feet. He tells me I have nice firm breasts and nice ass. I email him today and tell him that I felt pain when he left me last night. That I am torn in my feelings, and that I will stay his friend and continue to date ass wipe single boring men. Maybe I will meet my match one day. God, I feel so sad.

I usually tell married men when I turn them down that to me, dating them is an exercise in futility. She gets everything. I get the sex and zip. I love the passion, but he has a home to go to. I am dreaming of him. Seeing him at work. Damn. I am too romantic for my own good.

Friday, April 24, 2009

Pondering about everything under the sun

my therapist was saying yesterday that i know about many different things. well, i have always had a curious mind. i remember at age 5, taking the sunday funnies and drawing perfect replicas of dennis the menace, snoopy and charlie brown. i began reading our collection of encyclopedia britannica at an early age. and i remember when i found the ancient myths of rome and greece, i read with greed. my therapist asked me if i'd ever had my iq tested. i suppose so. when i was 16, i took my GED for my high school equivalency. they called me into the counselor's office and told me that i should be in college. i didn't know what to do with that information, other than say thank u. i never imagined myself actualizing it. i never had the balls or the self esteem. walking onto a college campus was terrifying to me. still is. i was in my 30s before i began taking college classes. i have not taken many classes, but in my business class, my teacher told me several times that i was a good writer. said to the class one day that what took some students pages to describe something, i made succintly (however u spell it) in one page. i am so shy, i cringed when she called attention to me. one day we had to get up in front of the class and give a little lecture. i fretted for days, sick from fear. i almost quit the class, thinking with horror of all those eyes staring at me. those eyes rapt with attention. horrifying!

so i chat with friends from greece--they say how beautiful i am. i say i'm a history freak. i asked one greek, " and am i ur blonde venus rising on a half shell?" he says that helen of troy had my powers of attraction. that made me feel good. i love ancient tales of days past. i tell another that is named paris----r u the paris that ran the foot race to win the golden apple and my princess hand? he says he is. or fight the minotaur. i tell my new muscovite friend from russia that we must practice perestroika. haha!! i am funny with the irony.

i think of morgan le fey and young merlin. i ruminate on the disease of king george the 3rd, who went mad and had purple pee. i watch the history channel and military manuevers of ancient battles. WW2 i have read about many times. the bataan death march. uss enterprise and her many battles in the pacific. how napoleon's troops lost 8000 horses before venturing very far into russia, how he was so confident of france's win, that his troops wore their summer uniforms marching into russia's frozen winter. how hitler in his arrogance made the same mistake and suffered mounting losses from his troops as well. i think of roosevelt, churchill and stalin sitting fatly around--corpulent and old, discussing how to end hitler's reign. i think about hitler's brutal father who beat him mercilessly, and wonder how a sensitive water colorist like adolf could turn into such a monster. it's like i never stop thinking for one minute. always thinking something, achieving nothing.

This is me???

I took this really glam shots of myself and put them on my profile on tagged. com. to me it is not me at all. i am without makeup most of the time, and age is beginning the creep on my skin. deep wrinkes next to mouth and between eyes. i smooth out some with beautify tool on photobucket.

i have started a friend i met from tagged, and when we met in reality and away from virtual world, i asked him if i looked like my photos. he said i did. i find that hard to believe. i chatted with my therapist jane today. i mean, it's like i can't conceptionalize myself in 3 dimensions. i look at myself and see nothing but beauty flaws. i am an ugly/beautiful girl. one day beauty, next bad hair day egyptian mummy look. one day young, the next day hag. it is confusing.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Well, duh!!!

sometimes it takes me millinea howver u fuking spell it to realize something about myslf. Like all the times i went to bars and jumped on pool tables and danced any where and evrywhere, that i might have been manic?? hahaha. no shit sherlock! i'd flash my green undies on st. patrick's day. go up to a hot dude and lay a big wet one on him. drape myself across men's laps. course, i was a stripper too, don't forget that. narissisim howrv u fuking at its's finest. naricissist. narcisssim. oh well. hard to type when u have 30 bong hits a day. mustnt let anyone read this. i will get busted or something. i am so fucking sad.

My Hot Italian Virtual Lovers

I chat on with some of the hottest men on the planet--my fave bueno stupindeco, bellismisma whatever ca. Italian virtual lovers. I get dizzy looking at them. No one should be allowed to look that good and not carry a license.! haha-----Just wanted to point out to myself later that now U R Xtremely HIGH gal!! It is 5 pm. And u smoke bong hits all day every day. Just want to say---hey sandi---u a druggie?/ herbal remedy. reclusion amplified. chat taking on torture chamber in head. hate typing non stop. i want a boyfriend dammit!! a hot one!!! i am worth it. universe, listen--i am sending good vibrations to u universe. jung's collective unconcious. earth mind, billions strong. if we all over the world at the same time contemplated ridding earth's woes would just be of one mind for that moment. we could all move mountains. mother earth has lay lines and magic worlds, vortexes, why wouldn't her children not be part of her mind. hey stunning vision of that. i am fucking clear headed but high and esoteric. yeah, one mind. cosmic mind. sending out an sos to GOD at the same time the world over. maybe mother earth father god will listen if we r loud enough. ages past there were millions of sacrifices in blood to the gods. baal, even old testament god. mayans aztecs carthaginia, etc, blood sacrifice. now we can just think it into being. all one mind. all good. the animals live by air currents, inner gps, antennae, homing instincts..... why can't we? cuz our fucking mind games get in the way. the prejudice and hatred and cyber sex. haha gianni. ..haah. i killl me sometimes. ok caio.

Monday, April 20, 2009

aww shit, here i go again-fuckin' waterworks

All day i hear " Oh Sugar, you are so beautiful, i can drown in ur eyes!" No body says, hi sandi, wazzup dawg? i feel deep for u. i love u. No , it is "U r so hot!" I want to be loved for ugly me. No one cares. I have been crying a river of sorrow the past few days, dreaming of distant lands and pining after married men. I just don't know what it takes to want me. I thought i was smart. I thought I might be cute and sweet and funny. i feel love for animals and nature and art and science and history. always i hear from these men, " Oh yeah, my wife is wonderful--smart, clever." i don't understand that if they are so great why r these men chatting with me. i am the brides maid and never the bride. i am on the outside looking in. they have a husband that is good to them and treats them right and is sexy and intelligent and has a good job. why cant i find someone to love me too?? I think I'll cry some more. feel used up though. feel sick. head stuffed up from buckets of tears. :o(

Yeah, You Got That Right

I want to do drugs. I want to drink alcohol. i want to OD. I want to burn myself. I want to cut myself. I want to be sexually abused. I want to hang myself. I want to swim, I want to climb, I want to fly. I want to be me. Not a facsmile of. I am beautiful and sensitive. I want to be nasty. I want to have wings. I want to wear spike heels. I want to glorify God. I want money. I want happiness. I want love. I want patience and understanding. I want hugs and kisses. I dream electric and speak volumes. I write sonnets--I pray odes to the ancient gods. I am quiet. I am hysterical. I am me. I hate me. I want me dead. I want worms to crawl out. I want to be comfortably numb. I want peace and joy and art and travel and love love love. I want a home. I want to feel secure. I wish I were dead. I dream electric. I cry rivers of pain. I travel astrally. I seek indulgence. I hate me. I wish I were not scared be brave. I want to be a wife and be cherished. I want to be treated like the gold that I am. I want to see Italy and Greece. I want to drink in the cultural atmosphere. I want to walk through ruination and ages past. I want to see ancient concrete. I want to see lovers dead and embracing in the catacombs. I want peace and love and green grass to lie on. My head in my lover's lap. His gaze is intense and full of depth. And humor and sweet love. I want to embrace and know joy on a cellular level. I want to chat about Dante, Machiavelli, Dickens, Rudyard Kipling, Rodan, Pericles, Aristotle, Alexander The Great, The Phoenicians, The Egyptians. The Mayan. Peruvian Andes. Native Americans. The Last of the Mohicans. Robert Downey Jr. Jackson Pollack Meyer Lansky, Florence Nightgale, Alexander Graham Bell, Nights In White Satin. No nothing do nothing. I am nothing. I eat dirt and piss, nor shit grave. I dance for hours. I crash and cry and call for help. I wonder if my cats will eat me after I do it and the stink hasn't permeated the apt. complex yet. I am liquid putrefication. I cannot spell anymore. I am tired and weak. I cry at night. I stay up all night. I feel sick all night. I smoke pot all night. I am tired and sick --sick and tired of being sick and tired. The End.

   "normal" people don't speak my language....vice versa

i feel like they are talkin 
       in a language 

         i don't speak and they are 
talkin it to me

Where Is My True Love????

I feel so horrible. I am crying. I have so many men emailing me on my tagged profile, it's not even funny. I return emails all day and night. I meet men that are talented and intelligent and have good jobs. But guess what? Most of them are married. I have no boyfriend of husband to call my own, and I am so lonely and miserable.

Sunday, April 19, 2009


"To BE gorgeous and high and true and fine and moist and sticky and lovely, you have to BELIEVE you are gorgeous and high and true and fine and moist and sticky and lovely, and I BELIEVE IT."
 Stephen Fry

Always! Never had a doubt....


Saturday, April 18, 2009

Tastes Like Dust

Gravity drags me down man
Eatin' Dirt And Pissin' Grave.

Here I am, where are you God?

I come to by blog to watch my videos and cry sometimes. A ghost without a home.

Puttin' It Out To The Universe....

I am done being alone and unhappy. I deserve to be loved like any other. I deserve to be cherished and adored. I am a diamond in the rough. So I am putting it to the universe that I am ready for my life to begin now. To know love. To feel wanted and happy.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009


I gotta say that I've just about given up on meeting a decent man in this town to have a real relationship with. Met this guy at Starbuck's today down by the beach. An actor. That didn't impress me, cuz they're usually out of work. This one said he was a working actor, bad he totally made me skin crawl. Ewwww! Just thinking about him gives me the creeps. I meet these men from, and so far am disappointed by what I have met up with. Some of been nice, bringing gifts and roses. Taking out to awesome and expensive restaurants. Good food, good wine. I feel nothing. They are just not my type. This guy today was obnoxious. I told him that he was mental, then said he was odd. He didn't care. He had a booger half hanging out of his nose which totallly nauseated me. I was too polite to say anything. He keep staring at my breasts and throwing little wadded up pieces of napkins down my cleavage. He even asked to see my nipple, I told him fuck u, let me see ur nut. I like to put men in their place when they're being dicks. I don't have time and patience for low lifes. I've been there, done that, not going back to that. Ewww! I'm still grossed out! I said good luck to him and took off. Loser.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Prequel to the prequel --haha

I just have to come back and reiterate the fact that to read this entire blog, which is numerous pages long, keep going to older posts until u get to the end. Click on the url addresses to go to links about bipolar. Click back arrow to come back to my blog. If you go to my myspace page, add me as a friend. Or let me know what u think about my blog. Kisses, fellow miscreants! Peace out. xx

The Living Hell And Slow Death Of Bipolar Disorder

Funny how not so long ago, bipolar was named manic depression. Psychiatry now calls it bipolar disorder to be more politicallly correct. PC is the norm now. Multi culture world --multi cultural city, LA. No labels. Now everyone is "challenged" instead of the stupid names from before: retard, crazy as a loon, mental case, basket case, etc.... I stare at my print of Van Gogh above my computer as I write this. An idiot savant, he? Painting in a frenzy day after day, making himself sick, wearing himself thin, bouncing off the walls. Chasing Gaugin out the door ( oh yes, Polynesia! Scantily clad maidens with frangi pangi in their hair...), cutting off an ear to give as a present to one of his favorite prostitutes.. Yeah, sounds pretty wack, but guess what? He's a MANIC DEPRESSIVE. He rides the star beams to outer and inner space and back. He is red carpet ride. Swimming through the colors. That is how I see the world---like I am intensely aware of everything, colors---sounds---movement----smells-----oh yes, smells. What is the name of the condition where you can smell or taste colors? Something --kesia. Like it hurts to be alive. LIke it rushes through my pores and into my bloodstream. Beating in my heart and pounding my brain. Reality overload. Reality too real sometimes. Must retreat. Most run from onslaught. LA is too busy. Too many people -too many cars. Too much attitude. Sensitive person must hide. Artistic sensitive person must paint, write, sing, dance, take photos, act, or go wack. Van Gogh HAD to paint. He had to get the shit out. He had to seize the brush and splash vivid life onto blank canvas. He saw too much. He felt too much. He starved too much. Drank too much. Had sex too much. Classic signs of bipolar. The other day I picked up a ball point pen and stabbed myself in my arm a few times. It is something I can't help but do. I want to kill the thing inside that hurts.

I self medicate with my medical mary jane. I am a certificate carrying licensed mary jane smoker. The beach front doc at the THC (yes, THC, as in what's the main ingredient of mary jane. ) clinic I went to was totally cool and young. Nice dark hair--friendly. He says this is his first job working out of the back of a jewelry store on the boardwalk on Venice Beach. I asked him if he was a real doctor, and he assured me he was. Listened to my bipolar woes. Said that I am the perfect patient for medical mary jane. I told him about my nightmares and how I was trying to wean myself off Cymbalta and Trazadone.

I've been on Traz for years now and could not sleep a wink until I took one to drift off. I have been off both meds for a few weeks now, and although I stay up way too late, I don't get the awful nightmares every night like before. I self medicate too much though. I want to be blotto 24/7 to not feel anything. I smoke til my lungs hurt. I smoke bongs or toke on joints. I smoke joints like they are cigarettes, inhaling deeply and often. Most people just have one or two tokes, but I gotta Bogart it. My psychiatrist doesn't know about the dosage I imbibe, but I hint to my therapist about it. I don't want to be lectured yet again about it from him. He is a nice old guy. Very understanding. He's been my Psych doc for a few years now. The mental health clinic I go to is awesome. They even send out my therapist to see me here at home. But, I digress....

....Anyway, I love Venice Beach. Very Bohemian. Very Jim Morrison and The Doors. Skaters, biker riders, muscle men and musicians , artists, gangsters and tattoo parlors. Evryone hawking something to sell. It is a busy place. Touristy. Lots of Europeans on vacation. Gentrification is creeping into Venice and pushing out artists with the high rents, but Venice Beach stays avant garde. Whatever that means. Sounds exotic. Sounds Bohemian. Got a tattoo at Venice Beach last year for my birthday. Impulsive. That has always been my prob. Symptom of bipolar. I have to stop for now. Tired. Haven't slept. I dance and listen to music a lot when I'm manic like this. I have a blind date at 1 pm today, and I haven't slept all night. It's 9 am now, maybe I can sleep a little. Gotta take a hot shower. Unfurl rigid muscles. Aches and pains. Down the shower drain.