The Tallest Man On Earth

“The Dreamer”

I’m just a dreamer but I’m hanging on
Though I am nothing big to offer
I watch the birds, how they dive in then gone
It’s like nothing in this world’s ever stillAnd I’m just a shadow of your thoughts in me
But sun is setting, shadows growing
A long cast figure will turn into night
It’s like nothing in this world ever sleeps

Oh sometimes the blues is just a passing bird
And why can’t that always be
Tossing aside from your birches crown
Just enough dark to see
How you’re the light over me

And by your side, girl, where the acres grow
Into the strong and stunning meadow
A cowboy stumbling in the finest field
And nothing good out there won’t be old

Oh sometimes the blues is just a passing bird
And why can’t that always be
Tossing aside from your birches crown
Just enough dark to see
How you’re the light over me

Sometimes the blues is just a passing bird
And why can’t that always be
Tossing aside from your birches crown
Just enough dark to see
How you’re the light over me

a little time is best for both of us?.?.?.

“Be my friend, hold me
Wrap me up, unfold me
I am small, and needy
Warm me up and breathe me”
-Breathe Me, Sia

I don’t believe in words.
I don’t believe in feelings.
Not mine. Not yours. Not even his. 

I’m sorry if you have never given me cause… 
I did the best I could. 
I watched. I listened. I even tried.

I studied people to get right.
There is nothing inside of me. 
It’s empty. It’s void. It’s lifeless. 

I believe in one thing – touch. 
It’s more than just a feeling 
I can hear a touch, can believe it 

You walked away other night – said it’d be a few
weeks while you try to figure it all out. I listened and
let you walk. I know I need this time as well. Earlier
in the night, I told you no one has ever been able to
reach me – touch me the way you do. And, while you
didn’t say a word, I “heard” you respond loud and clear.
I’m not sure I can do this “crazy” dance again either, Jason.
But, you came back suddenly when I was at the worst of
my worst. How did you know that? I don’t know that I’ve ever
been at that place before. And you were there… After all of
that time… I have given in at this point. I have little left that I
believe in. But there is one part that I do believe in and that
showed up when I thought I had nothing left…. I think that
scares both of us. So, time is best for both of us. 

Covered In Something Different This Time

Everywhere you touched me you ripped me open
No cutting just raw sex like never before
Blades couldn’t have done what you did
Fear dripping down my body – not blood this time
I needed it. I needed to lay in it and roll in it
I needed to fucking cry it in
And you laid there with me and let me do that

The silence from you – for months
The one night I decide I have had enough
Out of nowhere you come to me
You became my blade
Making it just safe enough for me
Fucking the fear right out of my body

Anyway I look at it it’s self-injury
It was beautiful because it was you
It was deadly for the very same reason
It opened wounds that I’d hoped were closed
And covered me in something different this time

no part-timer… just F**king honest

This song finds me… And, I return to it. Never have I returned to it with so much pain and fear and sense of loss as I have this time… at least to my knowledge. If you’ve read much of me, you know I am not a religious person and spend most of my time fighting it. And so is the case still as I write this… I discovered this song when a pastor of mine tried to help me understand that God wasn’t going to take my illness away from me – regardless of how hard I worked or how “good” I was. But, he told me that God would always be sitting next me while I journeyed through it. To be “fucking honest”, that pissed me off because in my opinion I was doing everything I knew to make it go away and I didn’t want him to just sit there and watch me… Fuck that! There were plenty of people watching me go through it!

Today I’m good with “holding me”. Fuckin’ someone needs to hold me together.

For 48 years of my life I have been complaining about this disease and what it takes from me. How miserable I am… How I go out and make bad decision after bad decision because of it. The losses. The pain I cause others and myself. The things I can’t do because of it. I can’t get up and go to work in the morning. I can’t be around other people. I don’t have what other people do to get me through the hardships. The excuses I have made because of it. Poor, poor me.

We’ve all come to points in our illness where we have made deals with God – or our higher power. I know we have. People “without” illness do it all the time.

I’m not here making a deal. I don’t “believe” like that at all. I never will. I just know that I believe that I handed over everything that I have ever worked on and for to someone I don’t even know and it could very well be over for me. Just like that! Just like that –  for no reason… Gone.

No, no deals. Of course, I don’t want to lose everything, no. But, what I have come to realize is that I do have so much. All the times that Therapy Man wanted me to write those Gratefulness Journals and I bitched because I couldn’t/didn’t think I had anything to be grateful for…. What was I thinking?

I understand that there is a certain biology to my illness. But, there is also a certain mentality to it as well.

I come to my journal today and am talking about me – my journey. I know we all function at different levels and are capable of doing different things for ourselves. I just know that I’ve taken my disease for granted far too many times.

And last night I get to a place where I’m mostly sure that I will never teach again. I couldn’t breath. I couldn’t move. I was shaking to my core. Vomitting. Crying…. sobbing. I crawled to my bathtub because that is a “coping” skill – if that makes sense to anyone. I slithered in – with my phone near. I had given up. I had come to this conclusion that everything that I thought I never had – I actually had all along and had only been taking it for granted. I refused to beg God for a second chance. I feel – honestly – he knows that if I deserve it he will give it to me. “Begging” for something I’ve had all along doesn’t make any sense to me?

That’s when it happened… my go-to in the past when I’m in that space had always been Jason (Danger Boy). And, wouldn’t you fucking know it, after 4 months of absolutely – completely – NOTHING – NOT A WORD… he told me he was never going to speak to me again… yeah, no. There he was. Pretty sure you can put the pieces together… I’d only be making excuses if I went further.

And so it boils down to me sitting here wondering what I am “asking” for today.

Who am I asking?
Who do people ask?
Or Change? Can I change?
Do I even get the opportunity or right to change now?
Can I even let myself change? Or have it in me to do so?
What the fuck do I believe in?

Tell me when it kicks in…

Oh, no, no, don’t leave me lonely now
If you loved me how’d you never learn
Ooh, colour crimson in my eyes
One or two could free my mind

How did I not find myself in this mess? How do I now not prepare myself for the end that is most certainly in store for me? The fact that is has come full circle makes me just shrink and wither within myself. I just want it to end.

This is how it ends,
I feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream.
Fading out again,
I feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream.
So tell me when it kicks in.
Well, tell me when it kicks in.

How could I have convinced myself that I could win this game this time? That I could beat the odds? It’s really just a matter of time and I sit shivering and breathing – breath on top of breath – hoping that if I just give it a little more time. .. maybe I really am ok.

So tell me when it kicks in.

But that would be impossible… not this time. This time you have really fucked it up, Jamilouise…

All the voices in my mind
Calling out across the line

Time to go…

“Tell me when it kicks in
I saw scars upon her
Tell me when it kicks in

The aforementioned cupcake

So I broke up with my boyfriend. It needed to happen. It was bound to happen. It didn’t look anything at all like I expected  (wanted) it to look like. Fuck, do they ever? No, this is the real boyfriend. The one that survived Danger Boy. I should have broken up with him because of DB, yes I know.  But technically I never recognized Danger Boy as anything or anyone – ironic as fuck – because he’s the only one I think I’ve ever really been in love with and the only time I’ve ever truly felt my heart break… shatter… splinter. But, we’ve been over that guy a million times. Anyway, I didn’t break up with real time bf and stayed with him. You’ll see why.

So, last night real time boyfriend and I did the dance! I didn’t want to actually do it because, you see, I’m actually a coward – shocking, I know – and I wasn’t sure I could handle being alone this winter.  It’s ok –  I know I’m shady. I cheated on him remember. Keeping it real here, he did cheat on me. So, technically we were even. Yeah, no.  I know. So, my therapist and I had been working on making me not such a weak stick. But, he got on my computer, got a hold of some emails (one of which may have included a code name “cupcake”) and basically called me out on some things – some having to do with Danger Boy – not the aforementioned cupcake himself. I lied – he called me on it. Over and out. That’s all she wrote on that one! I was pretty much dead to rites.

I sooooo didn’t want to be the bad guy this time! Not that I have been in the past because I haven’t been… like ever.  I’m serious. The others were horrible men that I thought I could help and I ended up near death… for real, for real. But, I’m the bad guy and now I’m trying to deal with the aftermath. Especially since he’s not moving out “right away”. So I am preparing (my pretty little PTSD self) to listen to him remind me of what a complete bitch I am and possibly what a whore I am (which is completely out of bounds) until I grow a couple and get him to move his ass quickly out the door.

I don’t even know how I’m going to deal with this. I seriously don’t. It’s a normal thing. I know that. I’m good with it because I was not happy…. just not use to it I guess. I don’t  know.

Every breath you take

Don’t care about them!
Don’t worry about them!
Don’t look at them!
Don’t listen to them!
Stop! Just stop now!
They don’t matter.
You are reading into things that
Do NOT EXIST my girl.
Please just stop!

And that’s a bunch of Shit!
Every step,
every look,
every gesture

You are just a little puppet. Aren’t you?
Nothing genuine about about you?
And with no one here to pull you’re strings
You can’t preform. You’re lost!
Without preforming you can’t exist.

When I was playing I existed.
I pulled my own strings.
My fingers knew where to go.
I knew the music and it knew me.
It was the only thing that didn’t need
permission to exist my body.

And you walked away.
from it because you weren’t perfect.
Because you let them believe you weren’t perfect.
Always because of how they see you.
But no one is talking…
No one saying anything… they aren’t looking.
Just stop!

They see me all of they time, you know?
I feel exposed all of the time. I can feel it.
They are staring at me, you know, all of the time.
Without permission.
But maybe they will pull my strings.
You are right. I can’t exist without them.
So, in a way, I have to take that chance.

They aren’t staring, Jami.
No one sees you.
Not the way you think.
Stop sweet girl.
No one is trying to pull your strings.
You want that for yourself. Just stop.
Stop now.

No one is there, Jami. Not the way you think…..
Just stop, poor girl. Just stop before you get hurt.


Reached my limit of ‘lols’ :)

Wow… that’s all I got for ya.
You are amazing with words.
Seriously, the best I’ve ever seen
From you, I expected at least a “nice knowing you”
not a blank page – a little more class than that
because you are a classy guy
Eh, it’s a shame, but it is what it is.


It’s crazy how people can get to you anywhere. My fucking blog isn’t even safe. We really are Prey… aren’t we? Don’t get me wrong. I let em get to me. I open myself up for it – usually before I realize I’ve done it. But I want it – I do. I tend to believe that I ask for it. But here’s the thing. I just don’t have it to give back. Or, don’t know how to give it back… or haven’t figured out how too…. fuucck (wait, no, I know how to do that part).

Oh hell, I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter much. I’ll figure it out. I got it here in person. Right here with me. Ya want me – you have to come and get me cuz I got nothing else. WAIT! Not an invitation. Jesus, Jami! This is just me talking. I just don’t have the same “gift” (ha) that others do I guess. I’m the coward. LOL (oops) I lack the gift for gab. I’m not a do-it-myself gal while others talk me through it. And, I certainly can’t talk the talk. I’m a little more private that way – or scared maybe. Can’t say that I’m sorry for that. (Seriously, I’m not sorry for that at all – seems creepy to me) I’m just a physical person. I need to be held. I need to be touched. Who doesn’t? I just want and need the real thing.

Oooohhhh… but the words on the page that you put down FINE sir!!! Yeah, you got me… oh, you got me! hmmmm…

I digress… Oh well… have I mentioned that I have missed therapy twice now. Prolly need to get back to Therapy Man. Winter sucks. Especially when Therapy Man is 2 1/2 hours one way away. LOL (oh, there’s another one. Apparently those LOLs are not sexy and quite annoying!). But then, I’ve never professed that I am sexy. I’m a math geek… with possibly a hot body. But… since I have body issues I wouldn’t know that or ever admit it. So there ya go. I’m gonna LOL the hell out of this bitch! LOL!

Yeah… the way my blog is going and my personal life is headed I’d say WINTER is here and I need to move to Chicago! I wonder if Therapy Man would let me just live in his office. I could probably clean it for food. I’m gonna end up losing my job if I keep doing what I’m doing anyway. Teaching is hard right now! And, I’m just making it harder on myself!

Ooooooh shit! Fuckers! LOL!

Have a great day!


There are no certainties in life. I have been searching for them my entire life! Looking for the answers. And, the exact answers because that is who I am. They can’t be the wrong ones. Not even slightly wrong – no touch of grey. No room for error at all…

Wait… bullshit! That’s what got me to where I am now. If I’d only just fucking been able to see through all of that!

There are two things that I have been good at in my life. One of them I walked away from completely because I thought I had to be perfect. The other… well, I’m good at it (in real life) it’s just not necessarily very acceptable. We’ll leave it there for now.


I was 8 years old when I met Dizzy. I ate chicken at the Holiday Inn on Lake Shore Drive with him. It was 1974. I had been playing piano for 5 years by that time… I knew his music. I knew all their music. I wouldn’t have recognized him if my dad hadn’t said anything though. We lived out in the middle of nowhere in a little town in Indiana. I wasn’t much for paying attention to record covers or liner notes… I just listened and played. Dad took care of the other stuff.

We were there that night to hear Lionel Hampton “make love” to his vibes as my father described (he was right). The irony in the words still kill me. Teddy Wilson was with him on piano – God, the hands on that man! Lionel was losing his hearing and would rest his hands on the piano to feel the beat… yeah, I can still remember that… What a master!

My dad told me I should ask Dizzy for an autograph and so I walked up to him… “Excuse me,” I said, “my dad says you are Dizzy Gillespie.” And, he turned to me, spit out his chicken and said, “Lil’ Girl, everyone know Dizzy a white boy”, and I pissed my pants. 8 years later, at the Montreux Jazz Festival, I played piano with him. After the set I reminded him of that night. He laughed as if he remembered. After he finished laughing he said what a shame it was that Lionel wasn’t playing anymore… I never mentioned anything about being there to see Lionel Hampton. Makes me wonder if he really did remember.

I made it several more years playing piano. But it just became too much. Perfection… I thought I had to be perfect and I just didn’t think I was. God, when did music have to be perfect? That’s what makes it so amazing… live music… it’s not perfect… it’s not fucking perfect… mmmm…. yeah.

I started this post earlier in response to something I read… and in response to some comments that were made about my earlier posts. Trying to explain myself. I’m not sure what for really. Maybe I’m trying to justify the fact that I gave up everything for absolutely nothing. Fuck I don’t know. But I do know that I’m stuck in this small down in Indiana. I’m miserable. I know what I am capable of. I know what I want… no, no, I really do. I’m just so fucking scared to ask for it… scared to go out there and get it. Scared to be who I am. I had it at one time. I had it there in Montreux, Switzerland playing piano for Dizzy for sure. I was 16 for God’s sake! I was from a tiny town in Indiana. How does that even happen?

I don’t know. I don’t have the answers. And, that is just fine. I have spent too much time worrying about them. That much I am quite certain of…