Comments Posted By Miss Alister
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Priorities. Difficult things. Especially when you’ve a brain of straw. Or lack courage. Even Dorothy was confused. At the outset, the Tin Man had the best chance of all to brutally prioritize his want-to-do’s and have-to-do’s, to take names, kick butts, BUT it seems the heart he was without was within after all. And so it was down to pinging off bumpers and banana flippers. Just like real life. Yawn.
» Posted By Miss Alister On 02.04.2016 @ 11:37 am
If you asked someone what the scent of failure is, what would they say? The smell of alcohol-and-ashtrays in bars, even in the mornings? The smell of piss on bridge walls in the underbelly of cities? Or is it just air in general, in the cleanest of homes, on the tallest of mountains, breathed by people who have only clean homes and physical fitness to show for themselves?
» Posted By Miss Alister On 12.31.2015 @ 11:31 am
The subtlety of disease creeping into the tissues of Love and constructing a tumor of alienation there, like a grain of sand intrudes upon an oyster, an irritant, only one that does not become beauteous, but becomes The End, the rending of Sanity’s organs, the obliteration of perceived reality… This is an anatomy of Sorrow.
» Posted By Miss Alister On 10.27.2015 @ 2:00 pm
Don’t do the cliche thing, please don’t. Write something about a girl who got a full sleeve tattoo of the creepiest faces staring out of the LOTR dead marshes and they haunt her, traumatize her, until she hacks her own arm off. Or something about a sicko at a bar who slips his Blackberry into a sleeve that catches a chick’s eye and she asks about it: “It’s made from the skin of my latest conquest,” the sicko says and lays an ice-cold hand on her arm. Just don’t you dare mention tricks because everyone knows they are for kids…
» Posted By Miss Alister On 10.25.2015 @ 12:29 pm
How are you now with your lacy skirts hanging down like an ancient beaded curtain? Are you still towering above that beautiful, brave cottage on the lake; still dispensing peace, a veil of protection, of comfort in the form of wisdom and knowing? What would you say to me now, venerable willow tree, that Not Knowing holds within it Possibility? That it is a gift, my last vision of your grandeur, like a taste of immortality?
» Posted By Miss Alister On 08.14.2015 @ 7:46 am
I am practicing the art of drag with an eye toward fame and fortune. So far I’ve considered that the drag force of fortune equals half of the mass density of intelligence and the flow velocity of funds within the reference area of fame and that the only drag coefficient is love.
» Posted By Miss Alister On 07.13.2015 @ 4:51 pm
I’m an outskirts member of the Cult of Personality – I mean, look at me: I try to look good ’cause I want people to think I do, but when I get out, there’s always doubt, I’m pulling on my clothes, putting that loose hair in place using my last look in the mirror as a guide, but I can’t trust that, can I? so I have to excuse myself for a look in the ladies room and do I stink and does my perfume suit me and does my car say about me what I mean it to say? If I was a full-on member of the Cult, I’d be like Mussolini and Kennedy and there’d be no doubt I was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
» Posted By Miss Alister On 03.15.2014 @ 1:15 pm
Bleeding in his modest house – quick, stick a piece of tissue on it – push on, push on, your queen awaits, you could never be late – you think she’s gorgeous, but she makes most people nauseous – she is like low tide, leaves men stranded on a slick and stinking beach – you will always be a modest clone, allowed to scour her majesty’s cold and sacred stone, but never to walk as an equal upon it.
» Posted By Miss Alister On 03.09.2014 @ 12:20 pm
What’s the yank Daddy-O I ain’t even halfway through my first drink – before you holler your head off, why don’t you use it to think? Things not going according to your foot-stomping clock is insignificant compared to the world falling apart, and on those grounds, I could let it go, but I’m too stubborn to. I’ll just sit here ‘til you see the light, ‘cause I know, on principle, you’re too stubborn to leave here without me.
» Posted By Miss Alister On 03.08.2014 @ 11:15 am
That thing we witnessed we won’t mention – we’ll go along with a hitch in our hearts, talk about our mundane jobs, our white noise days, and how awful they are, the damage they do to our psyches – we’ll tell each other what we’d like to do to the people who hurt us, and when we get to the killing, we’ll look away, but we’ll know what is meant and we’ll suffer for it in our dreams.
» Posted By Miss Alister On 03.06.2014 @ 11:10 am
God he looked so cool smoking that cigarette according to the movies – You should be an actor I said – ’cause I tried being sexy according to “9 ½ Weeks” but I could never quite get it – we were just juveniles then, awkward as hell, in need of a lifetime of knowledge that we could use right then, right then when it would matter the most – ain’t life a barrel of laughs…
» Posted By Miss Alister On 03.04.2014 @ 11:06 am
Can’t finish what I started – need more time – time to chill, to smooth down to the righteous place that gets direct reception to the either. The agony of that is ever-present – confusion is the new amusement – change it, unblock the passageways, get your neurons on, your synapses snapping, and if you can’t manage that, cluck like a chicken, laugh like the lunatic on the grass, pull the stem out of an overripe pear and peg it a politician…’cause if you can’t do it like Nikola Tesla, Nonsense is the way out
» Posted By Miss Alister On 03.03.2014 @ 11:09 am
All the pictures that go with the stories of unfathomable cruelty to animals LALALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU so I drop my money in all the hats of the fearless, the warriors, the saviors TAKE THE MONEY AND SAVE A PUPPY OR TWO OR THREE because I can’t look in their eyes if I can’t take them away to a world in which I engage them, allow them to be all their sweet puppy souls can be MAY ALL YOU SICK ABUSERS GET WHAT YOU GIVE and I’m only one person is what I say and maybe that makes me just as bad…
» Posted By Miss Alister On 03.01.2014 @ 11:52 am
It’s gettin’ crowded on this planet, in the HOV lane, in the USA, in Europe, everywhere I been on the globe, all manner of folks all movin’ to the beat of Grass Is Greener, gettin’ all kinda visas or just sneakin’ in, either tryin’ to start their own country up in a new country or tryin’ to mix with the homies there and failin’ to the max ‘cause no one gets their game or tryin’ to take over other governments and movin’ in with machine gun ideas and blowin’ up stuff, and maybe one day POOF!
» Posted By Miss Alister On 02.27.2014 @ 11:03 am
Yes, yes, I know about the Lamb seated upon the throne, but what about the woman with the parasol on a park bench, if you were her you could be safe from sun and rain…or being seated around the table of Silence, you could be drinking wine and digging the melancholy…or you could be the sun seated in a cool sliver of silver light and you would be the glorious moon, the ultimate reflector of light…
» Posted By Miss Alister On 02.25.2014 @ 11:46 am
Oh to be revved like rugby player, to expect to be plowed, downed, and pummeled and not take it personally, to make gamefuls of amazing plays, to get every job done well or heroically at the very least…only not get cauliflower ears. Oh to be revved like the wealthy young elite on cocaine and kicking ass in Prada suits and Jimmy Choo spikes…only not incur the charges, bodily and monetarily. Oh to be invincibly revved…
» Posted By Miss Alister On 02.25.2014 @ 11:09 am
I pruned the trees of my mind yesterday – must’ve cut off too much – because the brainwaves are wilting, unreflective, starting to delay, diverge, dissolve, become inaudible, soon will be imperceptible – perhaps my mind is just in shock and the leaves of thought will come back, perhaps in the spring… But what if they don’t? Where does that leave me but pruned and ruined?
» Posted By Miss Alister On 02.21.2014 @ 1:39 pm
One person’s reasons defined are another’s rules to break – every mind has a different ear that hears a different story – and it all begins to mean not a thing, breeds defiance in some, complacency in others, and every person from those and all camps in between see a different angle of a different reality that goes out as a signal that clashes in the wind and falls to the ground, a mere piece of burning toast.
» Posted By Miss Alister On 02.13.2014 @ 11:56 am
The threat of disappearance, the fear of it, so many things could make us disappear – serial killers, global killers–warming and meteor showers–nuclear warfare, alien invasion, a piano falling from a fifth story as we walk along the sidewalk – and we’re between a rock and a hard place, hard-wired as we are with survival instincts – we don’t know how not to live but we don’t know how to die, either, and only a few of us know how to live fearless of disappearance…
» Posted By Miss Alister On 02.12.2014 @ 12:02 pm
Little orphan Annie and her parentless pals, they all went down to the Leapin’ Lizards Bar, and on every TV there’s Tammy Faye, the Rocky Horror Christian, now parentless, too, and also dead, staggering down God’s highway looking for a place to rest and falling into a Messner family grave in Kansas where Dorothy still lives, aunt-less, but witch-free, in her magical red shoes. Click them twice for me, Annie whispered, for the bartender wouldn’t change the channel, and in hindsight Annie realized the first sign of trouble was the bartender wouldn’t let Sandy in.
» Posted By Miss Alister On 02.06.2014 @ 12:13 pm
The kings and queens of starlit are gone. The oldsters that are left see only blackness when they look to the heavens, only hear the wind sobbing… They thank their lucky moon now, for without it there would be no celestial lights setting off the waters—from rivers to oceans—like diamonds on Ms Monroe’s necklace. Her and Frank, starlit devils… The beginnings of the meanings now changed to a lustral masquerade… So they say…
» Posted By Miss Alister On 02.05.2014 @ 12:04 pm
I saw recent fragments of my life televised – I had no idea I’d become so pathetic – I remember myself misguided, yes, but interesting at least, because I lived like a wild novel, each chapter full with conflict, redneck vs. southern belle, dumbass vs. logical thinker, reasoned vs. intuitive… How’d I get stripped back to zero? Bygod, I’ll have the producer’s head on a platter, served with every finger of the script writer, and for desert I’ll have the cameraman’s balls drizzled with white chocolate!
» Posted By Miss Alister On 01.31.2014 @ 12:01 pm
“Why don’t you look? You know you want to look for trouble,” I say. Like Chester the dog, I dance excited beside him as he walks a furious pace, his head down, his ego forever wounded from looking for trouble before and finding me. Silly sod. I dangle the topaz sparkles of trouble just inside his peripheral. I see his eye strain toward it, struggling to turn the whole of him toward it, but he will not. “Come on,” I plead, dead serious, “I will be nice this time…”
» Posted By Miss Alister On 01.30.2014 @ 11:27 am
How could a rock god go from big-haired baby face to selling salt water taffy on Cape Cod? What must he think, helping his wife run a campground, checking all the fires are out, showing guests to their campsites, filling propane tanks, mowing the ball field? And what did she think when he went back on stage years later? What can anyone think about choices, talent, destiny, touring, wives at home keeping the beat of routine for the kids? Destiny? Life? All weird…
» Posted By Miss Alister On 01.24.2014 @ 12:07 pm
Buzz cut, don’t give a f**k ‘cept for my cutie-pie who’s getting laid by every Joe behind my door, as if she thinks I don’t know – forget sentiment! the day I find them? forget the second day, they all gotta pay – I choose my weapon and in military fashion, I do them and when I can’t take it no more, I’ll do her too
» Posted By Miss Alister On 01.18.2014 @ 11:32 am
Tell me with your freddy voice, a beauty with foreboding, a smooth ride with a crash landing, tell me about anything but the president and the pope, like trivial pursuit it’s over, so over, the ending like the beginning, formless and empty, darkness and deep waters, then BAM! there’s light, out of sight out of mind, we let it die, and it’s easy, so easy, a flick of a switch to back to black
» Posted By Miss Alister On 01.17.2014 @ 10:55 am
I threw down the brush attachment, kicked the vacuum cleaner clean across the room, and yanked the plug out of the wall. In the blessed silence I heard a sound like hail against the window pane. I turned, saw her there on the sill in a ridiculous outfit, dashing handfuls of sparkles at the glass and laughing like a lunatic. She yelled, “Let me in!” Hell if I was going to just wing my window open to a crazy foot tall fairy with a star on a stick. “What do you want?!” I yelled back. “Oh, sorry,” she yelled, “I thought you were the one screaming through tears for a better life. My mistake!” and she flew off.
» Posted By Miss Alister On 01.11.2014 @ 1:38 pm
It was on its way to Montreal, my suitcase, when it was hijacked. I waited for it for awhile before unleashing wrath on the crap airline, then I went home and waited for it, and I got to thinking: the gray jeans inside it are badass, and the fuzzy cream-colored sweater with gray mother-of-pearl buttons, it’s a sharp looker, they go together, and I figure they’ll bust their way out, Romeo and Juliet in a getaway car, go down in history with the likes of John Dillinger and Baby Face Nelson
» Posted By Miss Alister On 01.10.2014 @ 1:21 pm
I’d take it at your place, on the rocks, or straight up if you don’t got no ice, but you wouldn’t have me and I got no argument with that so I won’t even ask – better I keep walking under the hazy yellow lamplight – Lafitte’s ain’t far to go for a few Old Crows – and when the bartender gets that look like one more an’ he won’t serve me no more, I’ll sneak the last glass out the door, drink it on the way to the graveyard, pull up a stone and sleep like a baby til morn
» Posted By Miss Alister On 01.09.2014 @ 2:29 pm
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Goin’ on a cryogenic trip, you and me, it’s gonna be cold, cold in the freezer, if we can fit all our limbs in, if we can push past the panic we’ll freeze our love the way it is, let the hoarfrost build its layers up, a bumpy white protectant, so we don’t go the majority way and crash it on the sun-warmed rocks, of Suburbia, a failed notion as big as the ocean, come on, climb on top of me, we’ll freeze our love mid-action.
» Posted By Miss Alister On 01.07.2014 @ 1:19 pm