White bread, wheat bread, whole fucking breads are soggy.

There has been much talk of change lately. I, myself, live a far too sedintary and immovable life. The last two times I've come home, my mom has said to me, "Wow, and I thought you would have changed, at least a little bit."
No Mom, I'm still the bitch that wishes gaping, sputtering mouths to shut and stay so. I'm still the girl who would rather read than hangout.
I once read Kafka exclusively for a two month period and had dreams about COCKroaches and courtrooms each night. I once spilled an entire bottle of red wine into a river on accident and cried for days.
However, I no longer sleep alone, bugs crawl in and out of sandwiched mattresses and box springs. We exchange conversations and ugly words, then pray before sleep each night.
I'm still the kid who doesn't stop to think about what shes says before she utters volatile, yet true statements. I frighten entire Midwestern? North-Atlantic? states with my speech. Or maybe I give myself too much credit. Montana! Alaska! I call on you next.
I still can't read Spanish or interpret gestures, but I've heard that if you read entire texts backwards, they are still all gibberish.
"Hello, I'm Kelly Tadge, and I am made of gibberish. My fingers have become a brain."
Inspiration trickles out from under shut doors. I lap these murky puddles up with a bovine-like tongue.
And I am bored by congested minds. And I am made bored BY you and WITH you and AT you. And I am convoluted by sockless feet. And I am called caustic, called crass, every time I walk outside.
A dead friend called me last night to tell me he was still alive, still groccery shopping, and still drinking Highlife. I am shocked to hear he's lasted this long.
And I still agree with Kerouac- the paper here is too dry.
Dear Upton Sinclair and Sinclair Lewis and Lewis and Clark,
Fuck you too.
Sincerely,
GIBBERISH
So be it and go with GOD and help a BROTHA out.
Amen, Amen, Amen. And may peace be also with you!



p.s. Amanda Phirman this is for you in regards to last nights conversation (not the one with the bed bugs)...
"For those who believe in God, most of the big questions are answered. But for those of us who can't readily accept the God formula, the big answers don't remain stone-written. We adjust to new conditions and discoveries. We are pliable. Love need not be a command or faith a dictum. I am my own God. We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us."
-Bukowski