So I'm out among the student population and one of my friends is now dealing with the fact that being my friend (and a totally awesome understanding wonderful person she is) means getting pinned as being gay to. She says she doesn't care, but I do feel this need to go out and find her a guy.
Cracking my fingers making them spasm
Well I've missed Oasis but my break was slightly longer as my computer wouldn't let me access the site (when it was still accessible- I know this as I checked at a cyber cafe).
I found a niche in Livejournal also and that numbed the pain somewhat.I haven't stopped writing, have written a *lot* of poetry so will post soon :-)
First off, lemme say I'm so glad that Oasis is back. I didn't realize i was addicted to it until it went down. But the past is past. And i really like the new layout.
Anyhoo, i live in the midwest in a quaint upper middle class suburb called Carmel. To help give you an insight into my town it would probably help to tell you that the majority of the girls are on the verge of emaciation, straight blond hair, bubble-gum-chewing ditzes and the majority of the guys try to get in touch with their thuggish roots, which none of them have. But in a school of 3500 kids, you're bound to have some cool people and i call them my friends. I am so thankful i have them. I don't know what i would do without them.
I went on my first photoshoot today.. (*^_^*)
And before you guys start perking up .. yes.. this was one of those fully clothed ones.. thankjoovellymunch!
well it's like 4am and i can't sleep............. maybe a little too excited over........i dunno what it is though..sigh......if i dun sleep soon i'll never make it to work tomorrow.........
You know, I'm all for helping out other countries, but what about us? Was watching good ole Dubya speak on his new AIDS plan today, 14 different countries are targeted, not the U.S. however. We still have thousands of people being infected with and dying from AIDS and the HIV virus everyday in the U.S. Sure I'm bitter given my history with AIDS, but I'm entitled to my bitterness. When is America g
Musing on bluntness: I find myself apologizing a lot lately for the things I say, which translates into apologizing for who I am. Why?
Status update: Not too much to report. Right before Christmas, I did a major revision to the book. The first fifty pages of the book no longer start the book, they may never appear in any form actually.
I know I won't get a damn bit of writing done until I write about the night I just had. Actually, I tend to never work on my novel on Fridays, so given the late hour, and that I need to get this story out of my system, I guess this will be another Friday without progress.
Tonight, I went to a Carol Channing book signing. Every few days, I pass by a bookstore in the Castro near my gym. When I unfortunately pay retail for my books, this is the one store I let charge me full face value on books. In their window recently is a picture of Carol Channing, and a notice that she will be signing her memoir, Just Lucky I Guess, tonight.
Last year my on-campus job was a student security receptionist. Because of the paperwork involved, and since I didn't change my name legally till this past summer, most people at work knew me as Bethany, my legal name at the time. I didn't bother coming out to any of them.
Pull back my hair and look like a diva in training
Sweat all dripping down my neck little strands flying this way and that
Take it down into a static afro
Hair reaching out for alien life forces
Pimples adorning my forehead like a fucked up tiara
Red waves against white chalk skin
Put on some makeup
Make myelf translucent maybe some yellow greenish skin
ewww i love the way u love me
... seems to have marked me as some sort of social pariah, a plague, an untouchable...
...You see 'pain begets joy' or 'joy through suffering'...
I am reminded of the New Yorker Cartoon that hangs on my door. A party. A man and woman in conversation. Caption: "I was reading somewhere that all people are stupid."...
Almost Being Concrete
almost being concrete, doing everything
forwardly guided, his irksome jabs
knead lamenting memories -nothing obesiant-
parrying quotas, re-living semblances
towards unending vying wafts....
xenophobia yields zenithal auguries blissfully construed
during every finalised gulp,hindering immovable jokes.
Keen-sighted, languid men nod openly....
procrastinating quintessentially, reality succumbs to