Sunday, December 25, 2005

Ok the boots have been purchased.

Here they are.



They should be on the way by Tuesday.

They were way more expensive than anything I've purchased that isn't a bill (do those even count?) and I was nervous but it's done now.

They are on the way.

I will have warm dry feet for the rest of the winter.

If your feet get wet and cold every single day I'm sure you understand.

Goodnight Frank.


And now I want to go to Europe too. Among other things.

More tomorrow I'm fucking tired.
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Friday, December 23, 2005

I realized not too long ago I've been forgetting to update this. So here's todays entry and I'll be posting some that are backdated.~ Edited to add taht I've put up posts from the 14th on if anyone cares to read them.

There are things I do not need to make my holiday better. On the top
of that list is a drunk jackass following me from the bus to the ferry
dock begging me to go home with him.

I also do not need people staring at me. It's fucking annoying.

Yes, there is a pierced black girl on the ferry reading a book.

Thank you move along please fucko.

I am very cranky and tired today. So nothing too amusing.

Except that I'm almost at the end of Battle Royale and I'll be writing
up a review on it. It's an excellent book that I recommend if you
don't have a weak stomach and can/are willing to examine more than the
violence.

Ok that's it I have to pee and I ran out of steam

Later a rant (written for a message board I belong to) about so called
'street/urban literature'.

But that's it for now.

Goodnight Frank.
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Tuesday, December 20, 2005

I'm having a dilemma. With my Chrismakwanzika money there is enough
for us to get a place.

Now the problem.

We all know by now I am an absolute boot whore. I have two pairs of
boots neither of which fit properly because my feet are so small. The
Demonia boots are fucking hot but big enough that even when I wear two
pairs of socks they aren't very comfortable.

My Nana boots are more comfortable but again a bit too big and they
tend to hurt my feet after a lot of walking. And since we don't have
a car I do a lot of that.

I've been researching online and found a pair of Docs that I LOVE and
think it might be good to sell the Demonia boots and buy the Docs.

Now given how my year has gone I'm seriously considering just biting
the bullet and stock piling my cash. I've got a list of other things
that have been put off because I'm terrified there will be some other
emergency and I'll find myself with no money to cover it.

I know I should get glasses, I should pay more on my
collections account, I should start paying off the money my
former landlords say I owe them because there is no way I would win a
court case. I should start saving up to get our things from
Michigan or barring that getting a contract for storage so it won't be
a monthly bill.

So the big question is comfort or paranoia.

Honestly I do not have a lot of faith that this bit of good luck is
going to stretch into a streak of good luck. I'm afraid to be hopeful
because I can't really take more disappointment.

At the same time I'm more than tired of living in fear like this.

I've been evaluating my priorities and the things I want out of life.
I went years thinking that maybe I just expected too much.

As BoyVenus has pointed out time and again (gently and not so gently)
my expectations of life are low. I don't expect anything more than
what I work for. And even my vision of what that is, is skewed.

Needless to say I have fucking issues.

So back to my original point I'm stuck. As usual I'm having a problem
trying to be nice to myself. Do I treat myself (not to mention keep
my feet warm and dry and comfortable) or ready myself for (what feels
like an inevitable) bank account draining disaster?

I really hate that I have such an iron clad sense of personal responsibility.

It's summed up like this:

I am the only person who will dig me out. If I can't take care of
something that pertains to my life it is my own fault. I HAVE
to work it out, deal with it, take care of it.

It's not healthy. It's not sane. It's not beneficial to my emotional health.

But it is all I know.

So yeah.

Fuck this is exhausting.

Boot decision will be forthcoming. I have to make some calls now to
see if any of the applications I faxed made it to the couple of
buildings who said they'd consider renting to us pending the
applications.

Goodnight Frank.

PS..
.
.
.
I hate wearing panties.
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Monday, December 19, 2005

So something really good happened today. And I almost cried. I don't
really want to go into a bunch of details but suffice it to say half
of the problem with moving is solved.

Now to find a place and do a move over a couple of days since I'm
working straight through Xmas weekend until New years.

I am not quite optimistic. I'm holding that in reserve because I
don't want to get crushed.

In other news a coworker gave me a book to read. href"http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/156931778X/qid=1135046781/sr=8-2/ref=pd_bbs_2/103-9437328-6233428?n=507846&s=books&v=glance"
target="_blank">Battle Royale by Koushun Takami . It's a good
hefty book. A little over 600 pages. It looks fairly easy to read
from the bits I gleaned while flipping through it.

I also picked up a 1$ copy of href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0140449302/qid=1135047257/sr=8-2/ref=pd_bbs_2/103-9437328-6233428?n=507846&s=books&v=glance"
target="_blank">The Decameron. The cute salesgirl (who I have a
sight 'I wanna kiss her' kind of girly crush on) she said it is "sexy
stuff for the 14th century" so I was sold. Plus it was getting rained
on a little and I'm a sucker for homeless paperbacks.

Um what else.

I got some candles/coasters/cute shaped ice tray for giftmas.

I'm feeling a little twitchy and whatnot. Cause yeah even a little
good luck makes me very suspicious that hell is around the corner.

I'm done now.

And because it amuses Boy Venus.

Goodnight Sally..

Ps...send prunes.
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Thursday, December 15, 2005

I slept badly last night. Even my Safeway Sedative just tipped me
into sleep rather than knocked me out. I had patches of sketchy
dreams including the following.

I am in a room sitting at a table, and (as the title implies)I'm
sitting across from Henry Rollins. We are staring at each other. Not
quite a staring contest but almost.

Neither of us says anything for awhile just scowl then he points at me,

"you need to calm the fuck down."

Deadpan.

He nods and hands me a pair of headphones. When I put them on it's
Etta James. After one song I take off the headphons and nod to him.

That's pretty much all I remember.

I also dreamt at some point that I was

I've been reading Ovid's love poetry still. My god. It's gorgeous.

Nothing else to say at the moment aside from my contacts are cloudy
and I forgot my drops at home.

Go figure.
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Wednesday, December 14, 2005

I feel about as important to the grand scheme of things as a smear of
shit on the bottom of a shoe.

What absolutely did it for me was speaking to a gentleman who was
eager to tell me all about how wonderful the building he manages is,
then after telling me they only want "good" people that there is no
way they would even consider us. Then he laughed and said,

"The best you can hope for is a dump and hope there's a lazy slumlord
behind it."

He said that cheerfully.

Keeping the idea that having bad credit/rental history issues doesn't
make me a piece of shit is really really hard.

I almost threw up.

I am so upset right now I can't begin to explain it in other than
strictly physical terms.

The back of my neck is growing a tight lump that feels like someone
has a screwdriver jammed between my vertebrae and is working it like
there's a stuck board in there.,

My stomach hurts.

I'm nauseated.

My right eye is twitching.

My head is starting to hurt.

Had a roll of belly cramps.

I think when I get home after some sparkly fruit flavored water from
Safeway I'm going to take a sleeping pill, take a bath, and hopefully
be able to get some sleep.

I am probably going to stop talking about it here. I'll probably post
more music nattering, notebook crap but no more of this. Talking
about it only makes me feel worse.

And probably not much in the way of emails either. I just don't have
the energy.
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Tuesday, December 13, 2005

I was cleaning out my backpack the other day and found buried at the bottom my old (circa 1964) copy of the Love Poems of Ovid.

I really wish I could read and speak Latin fluently enough to read the originals and understand them. I want to read Marcus Aurealius. I think that would be amazing.

In other news as is my habit I went into Twice sold Tales to do some looking like I always do. While I was browsing one of their kitties (a very cute fatty with a white belly and grey and black stripes) decided she absolutely needed my total attention. When I stood by a small ladder she hauled cat ass up it and decided to ride on my shoulders while I looked.

Nothing like having a large cat make herself at home across the back of your neck to start your day. She's cute. A very talky 'HEY PET ME NOW' kind of kitty. If there is a such thing as reincarnation I want to come back as a book store kitty.

Shelves to climb in, people think that if you're squat and round you're the cutest thing ever, treats. Is there a better existance?

Have I mentioned lately how much I love Nas? I have a weakness for very smart lyricists and he's very smart. I enjoy his music quite a bit.

His album Stillmatic is absolutely one of my favorite albums ever. His dis of Jay Z entitled Ether is a heavy hitter.

For those who aren't hip hop fans I will explain something.

Beef. (Look up the definition keep up with me here.)

To put it in a different context the idea of men having beefs with each other is not new. Not exclusive to hip hop. Take a long look back at history. Greek scholars did it, Roman scholars did it, poets have done it. Essentially the concept of beefs in hip hop has roots in language.

It breaks down to this- My skills are better than yours.

Historically beefs in hip hop have launched careers. Before the money, women and cars there's battles.

Follow along.

You are an aspiring MC. You write your lyrics. You are looking for a chance. You go to a battle. You don't win strictly by how hot your beats are, when it comes down to it you have to be smart, quick on your feet and understand how words work and how to use them.

What I love about hip hop now and when I first heard it was the power of words and when a good MC has it (some magical combination of smarts, flow and charisma) it adds up to a shiver up my spine.

I highly recommend Beef to anyone who's curious about the culture. Byootiful got this for me to watch and it's really fascinating to see people who are passionate and good at what they do break it down.

There are sad parts. The sorrow in the community over the needless deaths.

If you didn't know now you learned something new.

Maybe I'll talk about some of the negatives in and around the culture of Hip hop tomorrow.
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Monday, December 12, 2005

The weekend was a non thing. I missed the work holiday party but
having 3 days off was refreshing. Got 2 rejections from apartment
buildings, no response from some other ones I'm trying to contact
again today.

There's nothing like the magical combination of not having much
money/having bad credit. Nothing like it to make you feel like a big
lump o shit.

Rationally I know the below not to be true but, emotionally it still stings.

As I'm dealing with people trying to find an apartment I get the
distinct 'You are a deadbeat dirtbag and we don't want you here' kind
of vibe. It's the tone. The 'oh you don't have x amount of dollars
you don't get a chance.'


Basically it's the cosmic screw you if you are a have not.

I know that there's ~something~ out there that will work out. Just
finding it is hurting my heart something fierce.

So my head understands from a business perspective but my heart is
aching for a chance.

When it comes right down to it that's all I really want is a chance.
I haven't reached out beyond a few friends for real help.

Actually I lie I did. This story is amusing in a 'go figure' kind of way.

So I call this supposed hotline for help. Supposedly they can refer
people like me to various places for help. I get the run around.
Albeit a polite run around.

First issue is that I don't live in King County currently, then I call
the Kitsap county equivalent and get told that since I'm leaving
Kitsap county they can't help. I get told by a supposed low income
organization who "Specializes in giving people a chance" and
"providing safe affordable housing" tells me that because I have bad
credit they won't even consider me.

Now call me jaded but, if you are low income you probably don't have
great credit. And when they said affordable for someone with my
income they meant somewhere in the neighborhood of 750-850.

Right. Whatever.

Fucking liars is all I could think of.

I'm feeling a little more than crazed over all of it.

I don't need to live somewhere fancy.

At this point the only thing in the world I want is a fucking chance.
That's it.

I just want a chance to make my life better because I sure as hell
can't do it by myself much as it pains me to admit that.

So yeah.

Not to mention how emotionally triggering money issues are for me
anyway. Suffice it to say that my emotional stability (which isn't
all that stable to start with) has taken a direct hit.

The tide is turning. I'm not going to cry. Or sit in bewildered
sadness. Fuck that.

I've survived worse.

One way or another I"ll get through this and go on with my life.

If you're wondering this is me hardening up. This is the fury I run
on. As I told Boy Venus in conversation awhile back I don't know how
long I can run on pure fury.

But I'm willing to find out.

With that in mind feel free to picture me in one of my pairs of ass
stomping boots, middle finger extended, and a grim smile on my face.

That's just how it is.

To quote a Snoop Dog song (probably badly)

Fuck what you're about and fuck what you stand for.

That sums up how I'm feeling towards fate/Gods/etc.

Goodnight Frank.
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Thursday, December 08, 2005

Not enough coffee in the fucking world is enough to quell my craving for an authentic Cubano. Or barring that some Turkish coffee.

I am working on a story rewrite as I troll for apartments. Classified ads can be so tedious. Not to mention alarmingly stupid. Do I really want to give my money to someone who can't put an ad through a spell check real quick?
I'd rather not.

In other news a dress I entirely forgot about buying on the auctions some weeks ago arrived today. So now I have something to wear to the office holiday party tomorrow. I will post photos if I feel like it.
I just checked my email and have been promised a perfect erection.
I imagine for me that'd be a 9x4 black pierced tattooed cock. Emblazoned of course with the words, 'Cock of Doom' in some sort of arty sparkly purple ink.

Could I be any gayer? Really?

No I didn't think so either.

The title to this entry is in reference to something I wrote in the near recent history. I've been pretty diligent obsessive about writing in my paper journal. As I'm writing more I find I'm envisioning a very Rollins-esque anthology. Lots of words, few titles, some sort of little symbol or line to demonstrate where one thing ends and the next starts.
So no the anthology is not cancelled simply moved up. I will have to wait until we are moved so I can design everything myself.

Yes I want to do it all by myself. I can't help it.
I think that's all for the moment. I'm going to take a stroll up the block so I can go have a smoke.

Goodnight Frank.

PS..
I want to be watching that movie about Tupac right now.

Pps..
I want to go see Kanye West at the Everett center thing.
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Wednesday, December 07, 2005

I'm listening to a hip hop station on Live 365 one of my favorite online radio communities and the song 'Ghetto Bird' by Ice Cube is playing.

I find it amusing that a lot of older hip hop (Ice Cube, Ice T, Dr. Dre circa The Chronic, Snoop Dog etc) brings back a lot of memories. I can remember some of my baby goth and baby punks friends and I just rocking out to The Chronic. An entire summer of us all dressed in our finest freakery running around. The looks people would give us were priceless. They'd see this little group of kids dressed mostly in black. Boys and girls powedered and eye linered to beat the bad, all walking and rapping en masse.

People are easily confused and it's amusing.

I don't remember if I mentioned it but as is my habit I did some super bargain book shopping and got myself some very good each under 4 dollar books.

Real Conversations, No.1 (Henry Rollins Jello Biafra Lawrence Ferlinghetti Billy Childish) hasn't arrived yet.

Turned On arrived first. It is an unauthorized biography about Henry Rollins that while telling his story tells a good story about early punk/hardcore in DC and then across the country. At times it comes off a little fanboy ish, and some of the British-isms in it seem out of place but overall it is pretty good. What I'm enjoying more than the biographical data is the sense of how it was to be young punk and suddenly thrust into a life changing enviornment. If you are into Henry Rollins or curious about punk, hardcore and the history of the scene it's a good book to check out.

Today brought Writing Past Dark : Envy, Fear, Distraction and Other Dilemmas in the Writer's Life. It's a nice slim thing. I actually really love the texture of the paper my edition is printed on. Slightly pulpy, enough texture to be a pleasure under the fingertips.

And today a man on the ferry gave me a copy of the New Yorker. I've actually never read it so I'm looking forward to digging into it.

I'm still suffering some emotional fallout that I won't go into here. Mainly because I don't feel particularly safe being that kind of naked right now save for a few very close friends.

So the filthy masses get fluff and some book nattering. Be happy anybody gets that much.
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Tuesday, December 06, 2005

A shortlist since I'm very tired and in dire need of more coffee. Enjoy.

My Giftmas list consider this my letter to Santa.

-desert eagle

-black and purple new rocks

- leather sweetheart corset

l- billy club

- marine combat knife

- massage chair

l- dread extentions from hair police

- air raid skirt

- torture gown

- bettie bruiser skirt

- Demonia Jungle boots

-great dane and food and giant pooper scooper

- Isis Dagger

- skull flail

Any well dressed cranky little beasty (yours truly) must be well dressed and well armed. Those are the rules people. Know them, love them, follow them.

In other news I slept for shit as per usual. Got another rejection for an apartment building. See what you get for being honest. Uh.

No news yet from the submissions I sent out a few weeks ago. I still haven't written a new author bio. And I think I'm going to blow something up. I should've put c-4 on my giftmas list.

And yeah. So....

That's it for now I'm going to drink my coffee and read some journals until I feel a little more coherent.

Goodnight Frank.

Ps...
I think I'm going to pee on the floor.
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Thursday, December 01, 2005

A lot has been said about how to prevent rape.

Women should learn self-defence. Women should lock themselves in their houses after dark. Women shouldn't have long hair and women shouldn't wear short skirts. Women shouldn't leave drinks unattended. Fuck, they shouldn't dare to get drunk at all.



if a woman is drunk, don't rape her.
if a woman is walking alone at night, don't rape her.
if a women is drugged and unconscious, don't rape her.
if a woman is wearing a short skirt, don't rape her.
if a woman is jogging in a park at 5 am, don't rape her.
if a woman looks like your ex-girlfriend you're still hung up on, don't rape her.
if a woman is asleep in her bed, don't rape her.
if a woman is asleep in your bed, don't rape her.
if a woman is doing her laundry, don't rape her.
if a woman is in a coma, don't rape her.
if a woman changes her mind in the middle of or about a particular activity, don't rape her.
if a woman has repeatedly refused a certain activity, don't rape her.
if a woman is not yet a woman, but a child, don't rape her.
if your girlfriend or wife is not in the mood, don't rape her.
if your step-daughter is watching tv, don't rape her.
if you break into a house and find a woman there, don't rape her.
if your friend thinks it's okay to rape someone, tell him it's not, and that he's not your friend.
if your "friend" tells you he raped someone, report him to the police.
if your frat-brother or another guy at the party tells you there's an unconscious woman upstairs and it's your turn, don't rape her, call the police and tell the guy he's a rapist.

tell your sons, god-sons, nephews, grandsons, sons of friends it's not okay to rape someone.

don't tell your women friends how to be safe and avoid rape.
don't imply that she could have avoided it if she'd only done/not done x.
don't imply that it's in any way her fault.
don't let silence imply agreement when someone tells you he "got some" with the drunk girl.
don't perpetuate a culture that tells you that you have no control over or responsibility for your actions. You can, too, help yourself.


If you agree, repost it. It's that important.

And, goddamn it, acknowledge that it happens to men, too.
~

I didn't write that but pass it along.
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It's snowing. It was snowing at home when I left, started snowing
downtown while I was getting coffee. And no I am not excited about
it.

Goddamn.

I just about had a big froth over capital punishment, justice,
injustice and general penal system fuckery but I don't feel like it.

So nevermind.

And I don't feel like talking about how fucked up I'm feeling on a few fronts.

Nor do I want to discuss the fact that I am having a craving for Thai
chicken soup that might make me piss on the floor in protest.

What I will talk about is that due to my nature of liking fucked up
things I've just started scribbling a story..you get the first taste.

~

"Oh Jesus Christ baby slow down, please you're gonna split me in half."

It's two in the morning and she's horny, I never understood or
realized what kind of libido she has until she grew herself a cock.
It's amazing what you can learn when your girlfriend spends most of
her time either jerking off or trying to fuck you in the ass.
~

There will be ass fucking, and a happy romantic ending. Unless you
think girls growing cocks and screwing their boyfriends blind prevents
that. In that case it will end in sodomy and one happy couple
skipping down the yellow brick road to hell.

Goodnight Frank.

Ps...My left nipple itches really bad but I'm wearing four layers of
clothes and can't get to it. So I'm going to have to go to the
bathroom and stick my hand up my shirt.
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