Before I met her, I wanted to be her. Does that sound stupid? I wanted to be that ****** up ****** that did a bunch of drugs and always had money because she led men on and lived free and just lived life despite a daily brush with death. I was eventually, and I had an amazingly horrible experience.

I met her when I was 13. I spent a lot of time just "babysitting" her really. My other friends hated her. We'd come over and she'd literally go in the closet to shoot up and we'd just be chilling in her bedroom listening to Hole and being really confused as to why she didn't just use the bathroom. But she liked the attention and audience. This might seem cliche or mean or whatever, but it's true.

As my decent friends grew further away from me because I continuously grew closer and closer to her, I did a lot of *******, not nearly as much as I would later on in life. but enough to say, "wow I did a lot of ******* when I was 15" and at the time, it seemed like an accomplishment. Maybe I thought I was cool, I don't know, now I just think I was stupid and weak and regret being like my father.

Obviously, as time went on, I did ******. The first 500 times Natalie offered me it, I said no. I always said no, but she still always asked. If you know a ****** addict, there's something else you probably know. ****** addicts love having other ****** addicts around because you guys will work together to make money and get more. This will probably turn into what it really is and what we were really were, and that's a co-dependent platonic couple, but I didn't know that until just now.

The day I finally did it, my god. My god. My god. My god. My god.

I feel slightly guilty writing this because I don't want to glorify drug abuse but Christ, did it feel good.

We were downstairs watching Hedwig and she gave me the eye to start talking to her mom so she could go upstairs discreetly. Then her mom was like "where'd she go?" so I went to go check, even though I knew.

I walk into the bathroom, scaring the **** out of her. She had lines of ******, diesel, whatever. We called it diesel, I don't know if that's like a common name for it? Is it? Whatever, I said "let me try it."

Why? I don't know why. To this very second I can't remember what I was thinking. She didn't ask, and maybe that's why. But she put some on her hand and I snorted it. I hated the taste. Sometimes I smell it, and I don't know what it is that smells like ******, but I find myself saying out loud, when people are around, "ugh it smells like ******."

This is one of my catchphrases I think, and I am not proud of it anymore.

People always ask me what it felt like the first time. I remember not feeling anything. I remember not feeling guilty for helping Natalie remain a drug addict in her parents house. I remember her pinching me and telling me not be obvious, but oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know that it was going to make me feel like a warm pancake that just wanted to sleep wide awake.

Sleeping wide awake, that's a good way to describe how it feels.

I tell people this a lot, this process of drug use, and how I ended up shooting ****** and kind of just ignoring that I was.

I smoked *** and said "well it's not like I'm doing E"
then I did E and said "I'm not doing coke"
then it was "it's not ******"
and then it was "it's not like I'm shooting it."

Once I started shooting it, I didn't have any excuse or cop out, I was just curious as to what else I could inject into my body and became that glorified drug addict who lived free and did anything she wanted and felt like she came out of a book or a movie or a ****** up story you only hear strangers gabbing about on the train.

I was that girl. Natalie was much worse though. But that didn't come until I was about 18.

I had morals, yes even heavily addicted to ******, I had morals. I didn't steal from my family. This was one thing that would not break for me even when I was maybe putting **** in my mouth for money. But that's not even entirely true because I didn't do it for the money, it just happened that way.

So I'm probably 16 at this point in the story. I'm meeting guys off MySpace with her, guys from rich towns that want *** or coke or ******, just guys who can't get it in their towns. She's ******* them, I'm stealing from them. We don't keep friends very long because they know what we're up to after a few times.

She also sold her parents wedding rings, I didn't even know until after the fact, or I would have tried to stop her.

Her mother was so good to me. I spent a lot of time at their house. Her mom always invited me for holidays, despite the huge family they already had coming, because she knew my home life wasn't too good and she just treated me like I imagine you're supposed to treat a daughter you like. She was also very religious, which added to the blinders she had when it came to Natalie. She thought she could pray the drugs away, the way she tried to pray my gay away.

I was absolutely heart broken and completely beside myself the day her mother yelled, "she told me what you did. She told me you took the rings."

I didn't take the rings but what was I supposed to do? Try and convince her that Natalie did? She knew, somewhere she knew, but she didn't want to believe it so I just walked out of the house and never came back. I cried about that for a long time because I loved her mother, so much more than I am trying to say here. She might have been oblivious, but she was the sweetest woman in the world and I feel horrible that she had a daughter like Natalie.

I met so many characters. Chris. I don't remember his last name but it was something really white boyish. He would drive 45 minutes to us so we could get him 8 bags of ****** when he paid for 10, but we'd pocket two. We did this a lot during the day actually. We'd get drugs for people and just never tell them you get a bundle (10 bags) for 80$, and they'd tell their friends we'd go for them, and they'd think the same thing. Why? Oh, because these were very white people that were afraid of the "ghetto." And it was the ghetto, it was Newark, NJ. The corner of Victoria and Garside, what up, what up. Come see me.

I never really liked Chris. He was a musician but he wasn't that good. I think he thought he was Conor Oberst, and at that time, he kind of looked like him. But he was just some rich white kid with an inflated ego and I didn't feel bad ripping him off, or his Trust Fund Baby friends.

I did feel bad though when one of them died in front of us.

So I guess this is where I'll start writing the "**** got real real fast" stuff, now that I've hopefully explained the type of person I am and how I got to this point.


Why drug dealers cut their drugs with poison and whatever else, I'll never know. Bad for business if you ask me, but I've never been a big fan of the business world, but this seems pretty similar.

Natalie is driving Chris' car and we didn't snort any ****** yet, which was weird, but I'm grateful we didn't. We bring it back to Chris and his friends, who are waiting a few towns over for us. They get in the car and are like "just drive around for a bit so we can do this."

They all have separate bags, and I feel terrible I can't remember the girl's name that died, I want to say it was Karen or something like that but I know it wasn't. She just rolls up a bill and snorts out of the bag and within like 10 seconds she's screaming and everyone in the backseat is screaming and I turn around and there's blood pouring out of her nose and it's all over her hands and the car and her boyfriend and Chris and I think her eyes are bleeding but I'm not entirely sure if that's what was happening. And I'm like "What the **** what the ****" because it wasn't a normal nose bleed, this girl was just, flowing blood out of her face.

Natalie is emotionless as always. I'm screaming "get to the hospital get to the ******* hospital" and the girl is like screaming "it hurts oh my god oh my god it hurts" and her boyfriend is like "yo man, what the **** bb are you okay bb."

It's weird that in situations like this everyone repeats themselves but I think your brain kind of stops working and you need to repeat yourself so the rest of you can process the magnitude of ****** up that your eyes are seeing.

Needless to say, Natalie didn't go straight to the hospital, she stopped the car a few blocks away. The girl died within 15 minutes. I don't know why Natalie or I wasn't held accountable for what happened, but I think it had something to do with me telling Chris who the dealer was, and this was the only time in my life I ever gave out a name, even when I was in jail, I didn't rat anyone out. But death is different and anyone who doesn't believe in being a rat when you're faced with that kind of guilt, is a *******.

Natalie got out and started walking, Chris got in the front seat and I followed after Natalie. He did take his friend to the hospital immediately after but Natalie was being inhumane, and it was just better she got out of the car because she probably would have driven us all into a river to avoid being arrested.

I really have no idea why she got out of the car though, she had no fear, I think she was just annoyed, like this girl's death ruined her day when it ruined my life. I guess making a joke out of it makes it easier for me to deal with, but it still isn't. For me, it was monstrous, it was desensitizing, it was mortality showing itself and I was like "I'll never do ****** again." But that was a lie. I found out a week later via MySpace message that the girl had glass (!?) in her bag as well as ****** and I have no idea. I have no ******* idea what why how. I just don't understand that.

Chris still came around for ****** though. And he still brought his friends, just not the ones that were there that day.

What am I, like 17? I'm still senior in high school and I have really ****** concept of age, and I meet this other guy.

MY GOD WHAT A MAN.

Yeah, I said it. He was 38, built like Hulk Hogan, and had the sweetest smile and the most honest blue eyes I have ever seen.

He also had been out of jail for a whole year before we met him. He was tied to a car ring where people would pay him to steal cars. He was in jail for 6 years and when I turned 21, I heard he landed himself back in jail for trying to **** someone or something.

He was nice though. I couldn't figure out why he was so obsessed with Natalie. But the niceness wore out and I finally learned what a creepy ******* he was.

He used to ride his bicycle to meet up with us and he had a lot of money, he just wasn't allowed a license. He was a construction worker for the union, made like 60$ an hour and what do you know, he was a ****** addict.

He told me how they get drugs inside jail. You get a girl to come visit you and sit down with you. You kiss them, like make out kissing because that's all you need. That like 4 seconds before someone is like HEY CUT IT OUT, and they have the drugs wrapped up in their mouth, and you get the picture. Just in case you were wondering how that works.

He also told me that I reminded him of his sister, that died of a drug overdose.
He also showed me his **** one day when he was at my house alone with me.
He also ****** off on my couch and tried to get me to **** it.
Then he tried to get me just to touch it.
Then I asked him to leave.
And then some other stuff happened that I don't feel comfortable writing about but I probably will another day.

He turned out to be a ******* ****** and I don't really trust anyone with pretty eyes anymore. But he was fun. Once he started trying to impress me, a 17 year old girl, and Natalie who was like 22, he decided he'd go back to his old ways and steal cars. I can't count the amount of porsches I've been in or how many miles per hour we went or how many car accidents there were that we shouldn't have walked away from it unharmed. He never hit anyone else, just walls and guardrails, rolled into ditches.

Seat belts, seriously, wear them. I don't anymore, but I'm going to start again.

He used to give me a lot of money. A Lot Of Money, just to hang out with him and watch him ******* and ****. I don't know sometimes when I think about these things.

Natalie did something stupid, she got caught stealing from him. He didn't mind giving us money and I think that's why he was so mad. He would have just handed it to her if she asked. So he started coming to my house a lot in stolen cars, then I introduced him to my other teenager female friends and it worked out really well for me.

He was gone for good and it was better that way.

I was still only snorting ****** up until this time of my life. The taste of ****** and the amount I puked from it was becoming too much and I was losing a lot of weight and it wasn't healthy looking so I decided to start shooting. I didn't even do it for the normal reason which is, you get higher, faster and harder.

Natalie and I are in a bathroom of my friend's house whose mother is handicapped, bed bound, so we just go there all the time to get high. The mother is also diabetic so there's a lot of unused empty needles. I help her shoot. And it's scary, she would shake and tremble and it was really bad. Sometimes I'd think to myself, "it's like your body is trying to stop you from doing it."

But if you like blood, watching someone shoot up is really cool. You mix water with the powder and, ew now that I'm thinking about it, what the ****. You wrap your arm up, so your veins pop up, put the needle into a vein and you pull some blood out, I don't know the reason behind this, and you shoot it back into yourself.

I'm really uncomfortable with the whole idea of shooting so I shot into my hands because I had very prominent veins there. I eventually started shooting speed *****, ****** and coke, which was too much fun for someone as emotionally unstable as I was, to be doing something so completely unpredictable. The first time I shot ******, I never snorted it again.

I shot Jack Daniels once and never did that again either. I figured I'd get drunk really fast, right? Wrong, it burned like a ***** and I started smashing my hand into the bathroom sink screaming "WHAT THE **** WHY DOES IT BURN."

It's whiskey, Audrey. Whiskey.

I met so many more people when I was shooting. I became friends with an entire *******, all the strippers, their boyfriends, their "daddies" and just, those kinds of people, and like I said before, I'll write about that another day. But that is where I met Janelle and Kevin, aka, Jack and Sally. They were these really gothy ****** addicts and this is going to be ridiculous, but it was so beautiful when they shot up.  

Kevin would be like "okay, baby, ready?" and he'd caress her arm and she'd wrap it, and he'd kiss her and then kiss her arm, then he'd put the needle in and I'd be sitting on the bed sobbing because I thought it was so cute, in like, a really disgusting "I'm clearly on drugs" kind of way.

I didn't hang out with them for that long, Natalie ****** Kevin and that ****** because Kevin and I used to make forts inside the house and talk a lot about nothing, but it was fun and I felt like a child, and I liked feeling like I was a child and that it was okay I was acting the way I was.

A bunch of people that hung out there eventually started doing ****** and I couldn't stand it so I had to get away from a bit because my guilt came back and I felt like I was killing everyone.


Natalie started setting up drug deals so they'd get ripped off if they went without her, she started turning on me, stealing from me, she had me set up for a deal and her dealer put a gun in my mouth when I started arguing with him about how he gave me like wood chips or whatever. It was not ******, but we still ran like thieves together.

She introduced me to the next guy we were going to use, his name was Pablo. He was about 42 and lived in his parents basement. He was an outstanding artist, I mean, I couldn't figure out why he was in his parents basement with the amount of talent he had. We used to smoked embalming fluid with him and angel dust.

Now, if you ever want to know what it feels like to be Alice in Thunderland, smoke embalming fluid. I went on a 4 day drug binge that consisted of nothing but dust, fluid, her

‘There are giants out in the hinterland,
There are monsters, horrible frogs,
There are birds of prey out there all day
There are streets of savage dogs.
There are bakers, making their ****** pies
From the girls found out on the street,
I think you’d better stay home and play
For you don’t know what you’ll meet.’

Janelle sat curled in the corner, with
Her eyes as wide as the moon,
She’d always led such a sheltered life
In a house, as dark as the tomb.
She’d never questioned her father, nor
The dreadful things that he taught,
He told her he was protecting her
For life out there was fraught.

She’d peer on out of the windows, see
The trees that waved in the breeze,
‘The sap on the lower branches will
Reach out, and capture your knees.’
She’d hear the wind in its savage bursts
That waited to take her breath,
And wondered why she would have to die
But the world outside was death.

She barely remembered her mother
Who had gone by the age of three,
A wistful smile for a fretful child,
He said she was drowned at sea.
But he often sat by a garden plot
When he said it was safe that day,
And planted a bed of forget-me-nots
To keep grave diggers away.

He’d only leave for a weekly shop
And he’d wear a coat and hat,
Dodging over some fences to
Avoid the giant rat,
The snakes were fierce in the supermart
And he said, ‘I do declare,
Don’t ever let me forget my hat
Or the bats will get in my hair.’

Janelle would sit by a mirror, and
Despair at her pale, white face,
She rarely got any sun on it
And her body was starting to waste,
Her legs were thin and her arms were skin
And bone, her ******* were small,
Her ribs would show in the mirror’s glow
She hadn’t much weight at all.

Whenever he’d leave her on her own
He’d be sure to lock the door,
‘We don’t want the zombies creeping in
And dragging you through the floor!’
He said they lived right under the house
But only came out at night,
And that’s when the cats would shriek and yowl,
They put up an awesome fight!

One day he went and forgot to lock,
He must have misplaced the key,
Janelle stood still by the open door
As the wind blew fitfully,
She took a breath, and it wasn’t death
But the sweetest of perfume,
The air was laden with scent that day
With the roses in full bloom.

She ventured into the garden, felt
The grass, so soft on her feet,
While the preying birds sat up in the trees,
But all that they did was tweet,
There were no bats, nor a giant rat,
Though a dog came wagging its tail,
And she saw a man in a crimson van
Pull up, delivering mail.

She finally flung her arms up high
In a moment then, and cried,
‘The world is wonderful, he was wrong,
He lied,’ she said, ‘He lied!’
By the time he arrived back home again
Janelle was gone with the wind,
But a policeman stood in his lounge and said,
‘At last! Well, do come in!’

David Lewis Paget

Kelsey Martinez visits the glory hole at the local Vons
Every afternoon at 3:00
He fills holes in attempts to fill his holes
And walks away a little more empty
With a sharpie on the inside of the stall door he writes
This is The John Wilkes Booth

The ways we **** sometimes kills us inside

Moriah Carter lost her virginity hesitantly
like a semi heterosexual cowboy
Riding *******
Because sometimes we just can’t look our lovers in the face
She knows how sometimes we are objects
Just a means to an end

Amanda Lee Van Zetten thinks about the day she was conceived
How if her parents had done anything besides missionary
Might she have been born differently
How passion might be lost in translation

Do not lose us in translation
We are not math or language
Not some secret cuneiform
We are simple structures of bone and breath

Just ask Kacie Brumley
Who lays awake some nights
Translating her body like braille
The Kafka transformation into blindness
Fingers like antennae
Response like music

We moan like music
We **** like music

I **** like music
There is ***** soul in these *****

If you don’t **** like music
Go to your nearest guitar center
Plug yourself into the nearest distortion pedal
And
Rrrrrrrreeeeeeevvvvive yourself

Remember Janelle Gibson
Who dances like a slow hurricane
Whipping sweat like beach water
To wash away sandy rough places
She knows how to spread the wet

Or Jennifer Smith
Whose body is a fire most days
And she wants someone to kiss her
On the blue part of the flame
She knows how it’s hard to find someone
Willing to touch you like they won’t be burned

Touch us like you know how to put out our fires
But won’t
All this flame is show
All this fire is just some unrequited glow
So you can still see us against a dying sunset

Jaimee Sanders
Is fine ******* in the dark
Knows that we really are like insects
How we feel passionate and blind while the lights are out
But the minute the sun breaks the blinds
We scatter to some new dark space in shame

Forget having perfect bodies
And ******* with the lights out
We are sunsets
That don’t sit well
Like bedrooms in the dark
We are shameful passion

Just don’t regret me in the morning

Toffer doesn’t regret me
After that one night so many years ago
He knows as well as we do
How often we are just fleshy strands of light
Flayed down to some simple structure
Of bone and breath
And the need
To be needed

I want to want someone so badly
Thinking about them helps me sleep at night
He said

So know this
We are fire
And we **** like music
And we **** like shame
And we **** like insects in a dark room

This is how we ****
And it feels good

Hahaha look at her rolls hanging over the top of her pants
I know she looks disgusting.
Sitting in the silence...just looking at myself I try to figure out
Am i ugly? How am I ugly? Why am I ugly? Am I dumb? How am I dumb? How do I look disgusting? What makes me look disgusting? Am I disgusting?
I try so hard to answer these questions but the only reason that I can come up with is because you said so... Not because I'm genetically formed with such deformities. Not because I suffered a horrendous accident. Not even because that's how I feel.
The violent words tear at my skin like nails ridding of a great itch
Your opinions eat at my emotions like a hungry shark feeding on fresh prey
Are they opinions or are they facts. Are they meant to hurt me or to help me.
Its all so vague...unclear if you will nothing makes sense
In other words I'm imperfect
I'm imperfect in your eyes as well as others
And you may be right
But if I may I'd like to voice my opinion
I've nearly racked my brain
Trying to come up with answers to all of my many questions
And the only answer that I seem to come to come up with
Is that I'm like this because this this is how you see me
You see me as a disgusting fat slob...
But why is the million dollar question
Why do you see me like that
Is it because its true
Or is it because that's how you see yourself...
Is it because you see yourself as a pig but because you wanna fit in you blame it on the next vulnerable victim
You try and lower my self-esteem to raise yours
Only thinking of yourself
Never once thinking that I am a reflection of you
That just because I'm ugly on the outside means I'm ugly on the inside
But honestly I'm not
I'm actually beautiful inside
Come on take a look
It'll only take a second

Growing up as a guy I have something to admit
Its that theres so many girls that i'll never forget
So i'll jump right in and go right from the start
and tell you about all these girls that have affected my heart
So lets start with the As there is two that first come to mind
and thats Ambrea and Ashley, their each one of a kind
Now those are my sisters so their first to be said
but lets continue on to who else pops in my head
lets see...there's 2 Ashley As, but only one Ashley G
can't forget Amanda K, or all 7 Amys
There are so many As that we'd have to stay way long
let me wrap it up quick with the cutest one "akon"
You should see all these B's their so pretty it scares me
theres Beth and theres B thou, theres Bee and  B. Barry
In the C's we have Crepeele with her pretty long blonde hur
and then we have Cameo, thats right, Mama Burr
On to the Ds they would never be meana
theres danielle carey, and then there is dreena
though im sure there are Es-Hs to do
i'm skipping to Js starting with J. Gubbes
Janelle, Jolene, or Jocelyn B.
Jordan, and Jen, and Jill L. you see
Jamie, and jasmine, or J. Allen
Jaylene, and Jessica, and then jen again
Oh God now the Ks, not sure where to begin...
I'll start with the departed R.I.P. Kristin
On to the girls that are more than alive,
Lets take, Keilyn, Kayla, and Karmen on a test drive
Three other K's must get named out for sure
And that's Kaley, Kansas, and Kristjana Schure
Two Girls in the Ls that are way way to awesome
And thats Lauren Borsheim, and of course, Laura Klassen
On to the Ms there is no time to spare
Just one, Maryke, and she cuts my hair
...I'm just kidding MOM you know your up there!
We do have an N there's nothing to fear
Her name is Niki, she lives in Red Deer
No Os, or Ps, or Qs to discuss
we'll move on to R's cause this next ones a must
Rachael K the Australian Wonder
Rebecca's art is so good she draws lightning and thunder
Theres a couple of shellys, and Sam 1 and 2
Tara looks like a model, and Tia does too
Don't know any Us, the Vs go in order
Vanessa M, V. Young, and VJ the reporter
If your name wasn't mentioned no need to be sour
this poem was rushed, took me less than an hour

Our bodies are dumb
but we use them well
Like last legged engines
Like ugly cars you drive into the ground

This is how we live

Moriah Carter dances diligently
A body of prayer
Til all she has are heavy heaves
And the choreography of a long lost language
Leaving the speakers speechless

Kelsey Martinez is a ball of energy building
And he’s begging some beautiful woman
for an angel fist of light
Punched right into his dark side
An eye bulge duet of disgusting duality
But this **** feels good

We just wanna feel good

Janelle Gibson ***** like music
***** like a jazzy slap bass in a dark room
Like gritty distortion during a slow jam
Like this has the potential to be so much harder
But it won’t be
Even if you want it to

Kacie Brumley knows how ******* our bodies can get
She never forgets the importance of her own breath
Even when she’s holding it
Here
Hold her breath she’ll be right back
She is gasp and knee buckle praise for
Awkward types of beauty

Jennifer Smith is embracing fragile
The fragile ties that link lives to other lives
As if she were a knife
Sharp enough to sever
But patient and still enough not too
It takes patience to stand that still
And she wants you to know
She doesn’t have to

Amanda Lee Van Zatten wears her rose colored glasses backwards
Because she’d rather be naïve beauty
than see naïve beauty
So she dresses up in childhood
And still does things
Like wish on wells
And stars
And people that break

Tim Pagaard teaches English
Respects the breath that speaks like it has something to say
Knows that all this poetry and language is just practice for our mouths
So when it comes time to actually speak for something
We can
He believes we can

We’re all in this process of becoming broken
And in the short time interim
Are learning how to live
It takes a long time to learn to live
And I feel like I’ve been here for that long

I think you should live like you’ve got aids
Not so much that you are going to die tomorrow
But you might
But you don’t have to feel so bad if you like rest a day
But then you gotta get back out there

I fall asleep in other people’s beds
So often I am too drunk to go home
Not that I’d want to
I am clumsy bear hug boney
Begging my roughness to rub people the right way
Am broken and fake toothed smiling
Because I believe even when you are unattractive
Smiling is beautiful

And Christoffer Jones is man still finding ways to fit in his own skin
Not that he feels he doesn’t
But there are more ways to fit than one
Is obnoxious in the mornings after
He lives
He lives

Life isn’t short
Seventy some odd years is a long time
It’s just not long enough

We know this
And this is how we live

Aside from New Year’s Eve specials, it’s a lean week for original programming. Still, there are a few stand-out offerings. Here’s what caught my eye on television this week:

Sunday: “Undercover Boss” 7 p.m., CBS: Yeah, it’s just a reality program, but it’s one of the only new network offerings tonight, so we’ll take it.

Monday: “Happy New Year, Charlie Brown” 7 p.m., ABC: The ol’ blockhead hunkers down with some choice Tolstoy during these Peanuts’ festivities.

“******: Cape Cod, USA” 8 p.m., HBO: This documentary explores the grip of addiction through the stories of eight twenty-somethings.

Tuesday: “The 38th Annual Kennedy Center Honors” 8 p.m., CBS: Host Stephen Colbert pays tribute to Carole King, George Lucas, Rita Moreno, Cicely Tyson and Seiji Ozawa; James Taylor, Janelle Monáe, Yo-Yo Ma and others perform.

“Almost Genius” 9 p.m., truTV: This new reality comedy series looks at folks who fall just short of their goals. They should be knocking on my door any day now.

Wednesday: “The Twilight Zone” 6 p.m., Syfy: The annual marathon features 156 episodes of the acclaimed anthology series and ends on Jan. 3.

“In Defense of Food” 8 p.m., PBS: Michael Pollan trots the globe in search of people who eat for health.

Thursday: “The Simpsons Movie” and New Year’s marathon, 5 p.m., FXX: The animated motion picture kicks off a back-to-back showing of 56 episodes.7 p.m.

“**** Clark’s Primetime New Year’s Rockin’ Eve With Ryan Seacrest 2016” 7 p.m., ABC: Whew! That title was so long that it’s almost 2017. The special breaks for local news and resumes at 10:30 p.m.

“Pitbull’s New Year’s Revolution, Part 1” 7 p.m., Fox: Jussie Smollett, Shawn Mendes and others help the performer ring in 2016 from Miami.

“Live from Lincoln Center” 7 p.m., PBS: Alan Gilbert leads the New York Philharmonic in a Parisian-themed New Year’s Eve special.

“NBC’s New Year’s Eve Game Night With Andy Cohen” 9 p.m., NBC: The Bravo star hijacks the prime time portion of Carson Daly’s annual holiday event.

“NBC’s New Year’s Eve With Carson Daly” 10:30 p.m., NBC: And again, Daly is relegated to late night.

Friday: “Sherlock on Masterpiece” 8 p.m., PBS: It’s practically the only non-rerun programming on tonight, but it’s really the only programming you need. The special finds Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman’s Holmes and Watson solving a case in 1895 London.

Saturday: “Galavant” 7 p.m., ABC: Four episodes of last season’s surprise hit musical comedy air back-to-back-to-back-to-back.

“Austin City Limits” 7 p.m., PBS: Alabama Shakes and Vintage Trouble perform.

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Emma Stone must have known she was a dead cert to take home the award for best actress — her gold Givenchy gown was calling out for accessorising with the gold statuette. Stone led the charge for shimmering metallic gowns at a ceremony that was underwhelming from a fashion perspective, bar a handful of stand-out stars.

Those included Nicole Kidman, Jessica Biel, Halle Berry, Charlize Theron and fashion’s latest It girl Janelle Monae, who translated fashion chops from her musical background into acting with spectacular results, courtesy of designer Elie Saab.

Fashion pushes a more casual agenda and elements of this are filtering onto the red carpet. Hair was more undone: loose waves for Kirsten Dunst, a half-up style from Felicity Jones and Alicia Vikander’s messy topknot. Berry’s wild curls deserved their own statuette.

A mini-trend emerged with actresses wearing jewelled headpieces, including Ruth Negga, Salma Hayek and Monae.

While things did get political in speeches at the event, embracing diversity in the arts, stars didn’t give in to the current feminist mood. There was a distinct lack of pantsuits, which had been increasingly common at recent awards. Meryl Streep almost went there, in a “drouser” ensemble of dress over trousers, but that was as close as it got.

The lone political nod was an abundance of blue ribbons, supporting the American Civil Liberties Union’s action against the Trump administration’s immigration policies. Best supporting actress nominee Ruth Negga pinned one to her red Valentino gown, Karlie Kloss to her white Stella McCartney, while Moonlightdirector Barry Jenkins and best original song nominee Lin-Manuel Miranda added them to their tux jackets.

“I think art is inherently political,” said Miranda.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses

Why?

Why did I love you?
Why did I trust you?
I knew you would only hurt me
But I guess i was to foolish to see it.
Why did I say yes?
Why couldn't I guess what was to happen?

You were stupid to lose me
Because now you may never have me.
You only made me happy
But I see it was only a front I had.

I wish you were more mature
To really see how you felt
Because if you did look inside
You would have seen
I really meant nothing to you.

I am truly happy now.
Can't you see it?
So why do you always try and ruin it?

I am happy with someone
Who you can't take me from.
Her name is Katelyn Janelle
And she will always be mine.
You will never have me
As long as we are happy together.

So again I ask myself
Why did I love you?
Why?

~When I was 4
my parents left me in a car
in an unfamiliar neighborhood
while they attended a party
because I had fallen asleep
When I awoke
I cried
and went to a strangers house
asking for my mom
they called the cops
it was my fault.
~When I was 7
I got home after school
nobody was home
I waited a little bit
then called my friend's mom
scared, and had them pick me up
When my parents got home
a little bit later
they had been shopping
everything was fine
it was my fault.
~When I was 9
I began to have night terrors
I couldn't sleep
I cried and cried
my dad tried to understand
but there was only so much he could take
he made me sleep alone
upstairs
but I didn't sleep
I was afraid
and it was my fault.
~When I was 11
I found some friends
they were really cool
and I wasn't cool enough for them
they bossed me around
and I bought them ice cream
When my best friend
told me that Janelle was her best friend
not me
I cried, I didn't understand
and it was my fault.
~When I was thirteen
I thought I was in love
though I didn't know loves meaning
I was fooled and tricked
led on and hurt
I was pathetic
and it was my fault.
~When I was 15
I got over my first love
found a boy that was very cute
he said he loved me
and we made love
my first time
and many more followed
but it was all a lie
and mind games began
I believed him
it was my fault.
~When I was 17
I met a boy
whose heart was a diamond
who touched every person he met
he was loved by all
a caring, understanding, trustworthy person
something I had never come across
I took that amazing beautiful thing
the one person that told me
it's not your fault
and ruined it for myself
and it was my fault.

A shadow crossed the room
in the corner of my awareness

A cloud outside somewhere, probably,
but for an instant, I thought that motion was you.

Thoughts of you are casually intrusive.

Maybe you’d crawled into my luggage - and hidden.
There’s a complex birthday-candle wish.

Desire owes no deference to logic

When I think of you, my tummy becomes warm satin and I know,
that in your hands, I could be boneless and lusciously obedient.

For a while, anyway.

I remember us at the beach, lounging in deep parasol shade,
how your tanned skin glistened with tiny beads of sweat
and your endless legs stretched out like a centerfold’s.

Or you pulling me up out of the pool, one-handed, effortlessly,
with enough force that I briefly flew, and how you’d gently guide me down.

“What are you doing?” I’m virtually slapped out of my ****** fantasy, by Lisa, who’s standing, exasperated, sandaled toes tapping, purse in hand.

“Daydreaming,” I answered weakly, as I jumped up to get myself ready.

Has it only been four days since I left you?
I already feel tragically underheld.
.
.
A song for this:
Ain't it a shame by The B-52s
Locked Inside by Janelle Monáe