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›comments[0] ›all comments ›post #1000 ›bio: kristen ›perma-link ›10/30/2026 ›10:51 ›archives ›first post ›that week
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1000 hello. I've thought a lot about what to say - some concept or a story to tell - for this my thousandth post to my zero readers (shout out to you robot!), and the only thing I could agree upon was the title - but even that I dithered. I equivocated (and I know M is also a pretentious film). but I wanted to do it even though I have nothing planned. I thought about waiting for an auspicious date, but today is it - October 30th 2026. I've read post number uno, and there's only one thing in it that remains with me - a quote like "the most horrible thing I do all day is stare into the mirror - what I hated my mother doing I do...." It's what twenty or twenty five years later. mirrors. I love them. I call myself narcissi. but as you know, it gets so very dull and self-feedback and rutty after a while. Once I was in the DNA scientists cool apartment in Russian hill in San Fran. it was just a studio but of that era when they made every door handle beautiful. He was trying on the pea coat that I gave him because it was awesome and too big for me. He looked in his mirror, and I saw that it was positioned so you could see it from his chair, and I said, "oh! your friend." because I know what it's like to be alone. I've been alone for years at a time - just me. just me. just me. just me. and I know that that mirror - that face - is sometimes all you have. I mean cats are fine (want some - I've got six to give away), but it's that human connection. I pack my homes with mirrors. Today, I kind of remembered why. I want someone to witness me - discover me - see me. and not just the facade - the light shit. I mean I'm relatively attractive, and I can talk talk talk. It's easy to do the first part. It's the next layer that is hard to show. I sit on the sofa a lot and scroll reddit and sometimes go mad with boredom and then remind myself how lucky I am. then I inevitably wonder why I exist. yesterday, there was a subreddit about retirees and what their purpose was - what they did with their vast free time. It was amazing to see the absolute nothing. I mean one dude was a medical researcher, but the rest were things like 'oh it's noon already. I guess I'll get out of bed." or "my mission in life is to finish my John Clancy book" or "my mission was working for 40 years. now I'm just me me me." or my fave "getting in the best shape of my life." it's been a hard one for me. I've never been the leader of anything - always the youngest, always the baby, always the woman, always the assistant, always the childless aunt. the one power I ever had was "everyone loves him and he's powerful and smart - but he's mine. I could make him buy me tampons if I wanted to right now." but I've never made anyone buy tampons for me. I'm pretty fucked up - one of those that think relying on someone is death. so I'm a fraud. I'm alone. oh well. I'm working on accepting it all instead of fighting it. "hey, so I'm alone. it's better than being with a fucking boring dumb douchebag architect who never designs shit." but I just employed one of my pet peeves, "be grateful kristen. at least you have two legs." and I didn't want to bring him up but whatever - this is just dribbles from my brain - the guy who dumped and ghosted me after never telling me I was even pretty or cool after hanging with me for six months - I need to own that it shattered me - the entire experience. I abandoned myself completely so that someone might stay. I'll try again: "it was great to meet you, but I'm looking for someone who actually - and I know this is lofty - thinks I'm kind of amazing - the things I've been through wisen me - whom I could sit around in my sweats and not talk to for days - knowing that it's all safe because if anything comes up, you'll tell me. I want someone to touch me. instead I got the stoic unemotional elusive intelligent catch-me-if-you-can-but-never-ever-chase-me guy" Jesus more hypothetical words to that mire. am I really writing my 1000 post on "he doesn't love me, and I'm sad" again? yes. because that's what I love about you. You're mine. you're my mirror - my abyss - my zen sand sculpture I can sit before my screen, and it's like almost talking to someone (who never responds) that made me cry too to write. I've wanted to be a writer since I was a kid. I am a writer. I'm not sure I'll even submit to the Paris review, but by fucking god I'm going to re-submit to slackpole/flagpole. I was robbed last year - what a cock tease asking me what name I wanted to be published under then not even saying "oops not you sorry." I don't do great with rejection. right Leon? no walks today as it's garbage day. I'm headed to fucking Atlanta tomorrow to do the stupidest thing - but I can't say no because I'm in their charity house. I despise not being a fucking empress, but oh well. Suck it up little Kristy. at least I'll be away from these cats. I went on bumble today because I realized that I'm just fucking bored and even if it's a douchebag - at least it would be my favorite thing: a human mind. you know what my horror would be? if we got robots to kill our animals for meat. think about it. instead, I'd rather be so humane or have the brightest minds work on fake meat or something. it hurts to imagine all the things that have to be fixed before I'm happy: no prison for profit campaign finance reform fuck lobbyists worship the fucking environment end big game hunting (I'm not sure how to solve that since we've killed the predators) women can do whatever the fuck they want with an entity that would die if they did I think that's my only soapbox. god I wish I never had to deal with this - that I'd never been born or that maybe I could like sports really and truly enjoy working on my bod or have a crazy niche interest. I adore ted turner - that Peloponnesian war obsession is unique! thank you for telling that Jane Fonda. but it sucked that he was just like me but different - needed the external validation of the opposite sex. ok. I'm not the easiest person to live with (probably) I have a diagnosed mental illness (where depression is the better part) I'm kind of old. I'm weird as shit (wish I had the balls to be weirder) I'm a fucking secretary. I have trouble remembering that I'm worthy of love/living (that made me cry too) I'm not rich and retirement will be ouch for me I only have three real friends I've failed at marriage twice I keep looking for the why why why my car is a piece of shit (but I love it because my brother made it) I live in fucking macon My hair sucks. I care for six fucking cats I'm both bitchy boss and submissive (but not really submissive, it's just to try to keep you) I"m twenty pounds overweight (but I've got a month more of the fat jab!) It's hard for me to regulate my emotions I'm a terrible housekeeper (I prefer to think about myself) I've been in peri-menopause for four years and bleed a lot Sex is hard for me to orgasm if I love you (because I'm too self-conscious) I love pot and alcohol (and shrooms and ecstasy but they're harder to get) I cuss like a sailor. I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't let very many people stay in my life. ok. done with shitting on myself. Now for the good stuff: I am. --- and now that's it huh. I've done my thousandth post on an ancient (but beloved) website with maybe myself being the most frequent visitor/reader. and it was regurgitative, whiny, pandering, repetitive, un-artistic, uninspired, boring, rambling (but it had lots of paragraph breaks and parenthetical statements) and I fucking love it. all of it. thank you rich. (part of me thinks the number 1001 is even cooler)
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