Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Somewhere between here and there.

I'm very tired. I didn't really sleep too well.

However I did manage to set up my other halfs blog. You can click it there at the right.

I'm in a sort of strange headspace right now.

I've been keeping myself busy tinkering here and there because I know just how freaked out I'm feeling and I am distinctly not comfortable with it. So I direct it elsewhere.

That's not to say it works.

That's just what I do.

Ok I'm done.

Goodnight Frank.

Homo Out.
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Monday, February 27, 2006

What goes around...

So. To get it all in a nutshell the move has bled us absolutely dry financially speaking. I'm talking DRY. When I say dry I mean we are living on 12 dollars a week in groceries and squeezing that.

Making rent (first month out, not a good start) may or may not happen. I'm doing everything I can, payday advance from the bank, not paying other bills. But I"m not sure it's going to be enough. I really really do not want to lose this place before we really move in.

Since I haven't really been sharing because I don't want to sound like I'm begging but I know there are people who want to know so here's the deal.

We only have the belongings we brought back in January to the hotel/short residence place in the shitty neighborhood. To stay there for 5 weeks(Less 2 days) cost almost 1000$. It cost about 800$ all together to get into the apartment.

Then there was about 300$ in bills for Feb that were late because of the move. Last paycheck someone rescued us and we were able to get food. But right now it seems pretty hopeless.

We still owe our former roommate money.

We are sleeping on the floor and have not enough kitchen stuff to do more than eat oven baked burritos, fishsticks, etc.

To say that I am stressed out doesn't begin to scratch the surface.

I made calls to some local charities but of course most everything was closed so hopefully people will get back to me by tomorrow.

I don't have too much of value I could sell. And really doing some chubby girl solo style porno is looking mighty fucking good about now.

Alex if you're reading this I'll get back to you soon.

Everyone else if you pray please pray for me. If I come out of this without having had a stroke or something it'll be a miracle.

And if you don't mind click through my Google ads. Make me some pennies.

Homo out.
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Friday, February 24, 2006

What the fuck?

I realize I say what the fuck way too often but goddamn it WHAT THE FUCK is wrong with people?

People just baffle me. They really do.

Anyhow.

I realized the only way I truly enjoy Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles is via audio. As read by Frank Muller. My favorite audiobook reader of all fucking time. He makes anything good.

I also realized this morning that

Bloody hell I am really not in the mood for the journalling today. Maybe tomorrow or something.
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Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Just a note

Flogging Molly makes me happy.

Makes me want to drink beer and dance around.

Just thought I'd share.
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New trick.

Trying this update via email. I'm tired. Very very tired. And I've
decided that I really want something kind of sour to eat. So I ate a
slice of coffee cake instead.

Odd that.

I saw the cutest fucking dog just about a half hour ago. Little fat
faced fluffy fucka. If that was my dog I'd spend all my spare time
laying on the floor with her kissing her fluffy wrinkly face and
speaking in the tongue of 'OMFGYOUARESOFUCKINGCUTEICOULDEATYOU' and
probably squealing and grunting a lot.

So goddamn cute I almost had a heart attack.

I could DIE of cute.

Little known fact about me I fucking love dogs. I love cats and most
other critters too but I've had a case of the puppy lust like you
would not believe.

I want a big dog though. I don't mind playing with peoples little
purse sized dogs but I want a big dog I can cuddle and wrestle with.

Great Dane, Rotty, Pit Bull. I have such a weakness for pit bulls. I
see one and turn into a gibbering boob. They are so damn cute and so
sweet.

I informed Byootiful the other day that we are most defineatly
probably going to need a farm by the time we retire for several
reasons.

#1 is that I want critters. I have a list. I have at this point
given up on having a cow for a pet so I could settle for a few pygmy
goats, a pot bellied pig, dogs, cats and probably some bunnies.

#2 Between the two of us there are lots of crotchety old people in our
families. It's genetic. And given how crotchety we are now, we will
most likely be some mean old cantakerous mother fuckers when we get
old. I doubt any rest home in the country will take us. Would you
want a couple of old fucks standing around your rest home hallway
screaming,

"THAT'S MY MOTHERFUCKING PUDDING YOU MONKEYFUCKING BASTARD."

Because let's face it. We'll both be toothless and probably willing
to to go to blows over some pudding.

You get kicked out of the home or medicated for that sort of
behaviour. So we'll need a few hot young nurses, a couple of Rascal
scooters and we'll be hell on wheels.

#4 Also vastly important, when I retire I fully plan on tinkering with
a lot of shit. Cars, computers, furniture what have you. So we'll
need room. And I don't like to share so we'll have to have his n hers
sides of the garage so he won't touch my wrench. Or my hammer.

#5 Where else but in the country can old people fuck like stoned test
bunnies without alarming the neighbors? Hmmm? 'Nuff said.

I have a cluster headache in my left eye that is making me want to
gouge it out with a dirty plastic spoon.

In I think people suck type news while I was on the bus on my way to
work today some jackass tried to start a fight with the bus driver.

Not a verbal fight mind you he wanted the driver to "step off the bus
like a man and settle this shit." The shit in question was that he
was on the wrong fucking bus. The bus we were on goes on the West
side of Seattle Center and he wanted the East side.

So really if you're a skinny little junky looking crackhead and there
is Big Burly Bus Driving Man driving the bus is that the dude you pick
a fight with? So to settle the issue the driver stopped the bus and
stood up.

Hello Mt Everest.

He very calmly said, "sir you're not on the right bus. Get off this
bus and take the next 3 or 4 one of the two should be coming in the
next five minutes."

Skinny Junkie Crackhead Man took one good look at Big Burly Bus
Driving Man (who let me just say I was picturing all dolled up in some
leather Daddy gear, harness and whatnot bossing me around and calling
me Junior...jesus don't ask) and took off as fast as his little
crackhead legs would carry him.

The lesson in this (aside from that I'm a dirty little bitch) is that
if you are a Skinny Junkie Crackhead Man do not pick a fight with Big
Burly Bus Driving Man because if he loses his temper he will squash
you with his giant hotness of doom mmkay?

So yeah some people are stupid and need to be kicked in the taint.

And I'm spent.

Goodnight Sally.

Homo Out.


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Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Poor little broke beasty

Ok so we all know I'm fucking poor. And as you may or may not know I've been looking into hobbies lately.

I'm sort of crafty and I like making things but, I also like being social. But, as I'm finding out whilst doing research on teh internet every motherfucking hobby I am at all interested in is expensive.

Prohibitavely expensive.

I want to make myself (and maybe to sell) fancy synthetic hair doodads. Expensive,

I want to learn how to bellydance. Expensive.

I want to learn to perform burlesque. Motherfucking expensive.

Sex positive whatever. Expensive.

It's really depressing and I kind of want to cry. I really hate the thought that I'm going to be stuck belly dancing and doing yoga in my apartment standing/sitting/gyrating in front of my computer.


Maybe some day. So I guess for now I'll be gyrating/standing/sitting in front of my computer. Or trying to make dreads out of the half ton of yarn I have. By myself.

Wah...wah...whine...kvell.

I'm bleeding and feeling shitty so yes I can whine.

Not much else is new. I'm still not entirely moved I don't have all my stuff. I don't really care right at the moment. So there.

In other news the virtual home of where I usually post journal entries first is broken. I don't particularly care aside from I wish I'd have had ~my~ computer so I could back it up.

Whatever.

Apathetic much?

Yes that's me.

Ok fuck I'm tired I'm going to go now.

Goodnight Frank.

Homo out.

PS...everybody say hi to my little brother he commented down one entry below there.
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Thursday, February 16, 2006

As usual since I'm sick and vaguely feverish I've been having strangedreams. Last night was no exception to the rule. In this dream I was walking down the street in some city, late at night.And I see a man walking towards me, I can't see his face but I know he'sstaring at me. When he gets close he has this look on his face, not a nicelook more that he was about to say something smart. I look up and it'sHenry Rollins. (Usually if he's in my dreams there's evil looks involvedbut not that kind. More the I'm going ot fuck you until you bark kind)Where was I?So he gets up close to me and we stand not far from each other and hedoesn't say anything just stares at me. To which I say- "the fuck are youlooking at muscles?" We stare at each other for another couple of minutesand he shakes his head. "Why are you so fucking mean?" I smile up at him,slap his cheek lightly and just walk away.

Cut to another street, by the way this city isn't one I know. It's notSeattle, it's not Portland (of which my recollection is kind of good, it'sbeen years since I've been there). But I keep on wandering around, thenwhen my feet start to hurt I sit on the stoop of an ugly old abandoned building. That is about where I woke up I think.

So yeah.

Wooo watch my head spin.I'm tired. And my need for new glasses/contacts is underscored by the factthat we have these beautiful new monitors at work. Lovely flatpanel lcd'sand they are just a tad blurry for me. Ugh.

The home situation is still not great but it isn't terrible either. A very good friend saved the day and we have enough food to last until payday.

I hate being poor. I really fucking hate it. Especially since I know that I'm doing the best I can and the days that my best isn't good enough fucking kill me. So now off to do a little research, see what I can do about getting myself some other way of bringing in some additional income. THe move is going tot ake months to recover from.

Meh. My throat hurts I'm gonna go make tea.

Homo out.
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Tuesday, February 14, 2006

nudemuse --
[noun]:

A master of storytelling

'How" will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com


Ok can I just say right now I'd give my left ovary for a laptop or something similarly portable. I had a whole story narrated in my head last night in the dark while I was watching (trying to anyway) Kill Bill and now it's gone.

Mother fuck.

Anyhow.

I'm stuck in a musical rut. Saul Williams and the Donnie Darko OST. A smattering of Pantera remixes along with a few Beth Hart songs.

My head is FULL of stuff that I can't really figure out.

And we are living on instant soups (6 left) and a bag of fishsticks until I get paid next. Which is in a week.

This kind of constant stress is making mean(er) and I'm fairly certain if the circumstances create themselves I might commit some kind of felonious assault if ONE more mother fucker hits on me thinking I'm a high school student. Because yeah no. Ew.

In other news the home of my other journal (where I post these same entries) is down so I'll be transcribing some stuff from my writing journal to here in the meantime.

And I think I'm going to sell both pairs of my Docs this weekend. I have two that are almost brand new and should put us in more instant soup and maybe even something other than fishsticks. I'm really happy that we finally moved but goddamn. It pretty much took almost every cent we had. With a little left over for essentials but yeah. This is really tiring. I HATE being this poor. Housed but barely. Eating food that makes me feel like crap because it's what we can afford. I'm over it.

Fucksake.

Homo Out
PS why can I STILL not figure out how to post quiz results right the first goddamn time.
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Friday, February 10, 2006

I believe I've found the outer edges of my endurance. My fury might not have any bounds but it sure does run out of gas.

We're moving tonight/tomorrow. Not the big stuff for several reasons. A.)too tired B.) can't afford a truck even if we were rested C.)yeah just not going to happen.
So probably after we get somewhat rested we'll arrange to get the big stuff moved hopefully with help.

I am so tired my eyeballs feel like I've dredged them in sawdust and popped them back into my skull.

Not to mention the magic combination of not sleeping, stress, more stress, work, crackheads, stress rinse repeat ad nauseam has me feeling alternately like I will beat someone with a stick, laugh until I piss myself or just sit catatonic.

My donuts are a little stale and it made my eyes tear up a little.

I need a bum rub, bath, whiskey, bum rub, nap. Rinse repeat for about three weeks.
Followed by a massage (because at some point while I was napping in the last month someone has replaced my trusty vertebrae in my neck with rebar), facial, spa mani-pedi and a new dress. And new shoes.

I want to feel cute. For at least five minutes because I'm looking pretty crappy right now.
While I'm being honest I will say that my legs are hairy and my skin is dry and itchy.
Yes...I am still fuzzy legged.

And if you're squirming and ew'ing to yourself get over it. Nothin wrong with a lil fur.
Along the lines of talking about fur I saw a photo of this model who I am still not sure I find hot or not and she's got her pubes all shaved off. Now we all know at this point that's not my favorite thing. But because of the way she is shaped and how thin she is she looks a little too young for me to be even contemplating violating her in any enjoyable way.

So I have decided that I am now firmly anti-no pubes. I like pubes. Bring em back.
Not necessarily some giant 70's era porno bush. I realize that logistically for some of us that's just uncomfortable. I mean really who the hell wants to have the jungle of no return when it's hot out? I can be realistic.

Leave a little somethin somethin. Back away from the wax and pick up some clippers. Want a little crotch area fade? Right on. Inverted V? Landing strip? Undercarriage stripped clean but some fuzz up front? Good. Actually I find that last one very sexy. Although a little fuzz makes it perfect.

Okay how the fuck did I go from I'm tired woe is me to discoursing on pubic hair yet again?

What can I say I like pussy.

Where was I? I got distracted.

Uh..already talked about being tired, pubes, pussy oh okay moving on.

There are few people who turn me on like Diamanda Galas. Aside from her amazing voice there is something about her that makes me alternately want to lick her from ankle to neck and cower in her presence while she sings and probably does something painful to me.

Certain people evoke certain responses in me. For instance, everytime I see Bjork I want to spank her. My friend Cookie? I want to spank her just to see her absolutely flawless creamy pale skin get all pink and stripey.

We all know that some boys on sight make me want to bend them over and fuck them til they bark. Or maybe beat on them a little, beat on them then they blow me and call me Sir. I've been over this.

Follow along folks.

Other people it's entirely different. Everytime I see Tom Cruise I want to hit him. Hard. In the
face. Preferably until he cries.

I don't know why I don't know the dude it's a visceral type thing.

There are many people on the Teevee whom on sight I just want to slap around a little.

Yes...my secret is out I'm a little bit of a sadist.

And I'm kind of queer.
(Understatement ya think?)

If you are still reading bravo. Be aware I'm typing in order to keep myself awake in the final fifteen minutes of my shift.

And I should stop so I can get things all ready and be out the door and wha tnot.

Probably won't hear from me for a few days. I might try to weasel out of working on Monday if at all possible because I need to get some fucking rest.

And um...yeah.

This is where you imagine me swaggering off (I'm feeling very butch today) with my "get out of the way before I hurt you" walk. THen feel free to picture me buggering (insert someone here) or tendering plumbing the dewy depths of (insert other person here). And then...just cause I'm generous go have a wank and a nap.

Homo Out.
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Thursday, February 09, 2006

So I'm reading The Demon by Hubert Selby Jr and it's as good if not better than I'd been anticipating.

I was really craving something that would for all intents and purposes slap me across the face and it has. I'm not quite finished with it and had to slow my roll so I can savor the last fifty pages or so. I highly recommend this book for those who like the 'kick you in the nuts' brand of literature.

I'm not sure what I'm going to read next.
I plan on buying a copy of Ultra Black Hair Growth II 2000 Edition because as good as I'm doing I feel I can take better care of my hair. (Not going to open that particular can of worms today. Another day)

I've also got my eye on, Planet Joe and Rollins' new book Roomanitarian.

OH GODDAMN IT. I have this track I thought was Tom Waits doing 'Sea Of Love' and it's fucking Robert Plant.

Anyhow where was I?

Rollins, right-o.
Wow I just got so distracted looking at the 2.13.61 website store. I could spend a hell of a lot of money there. It amazes me that they've kept their prices so reasonable. I commend that.

I also am looking at getting, The Life and Death of Hertzan Chimera by Mike Philbin. I enjoy his writing and other banter quite a bit. I'm not sure what I'm going to get into reading wise.
I'll be having quite the bus ride from home to work after we move so I want to be prepared with reading materials.

I think that's it for right now. I'm tired and need to make some crack Crystal Light. Goddamn I'm addicted to that shit. The Rasberry ice flavor rocks my socks.
After I get settled emails for Anthony and friend to be (via the aforementioned gentleman) Natosha. And an idea to share with the ever fabulous Amelia G..

And my plans for world domination. Can't forget that.

Homo Out.
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Friday, February 03, 2006

My entire life I've been hyper-conscious of when I do wrong things. From my parents I learned that how I thought was wrong, how I did a lot of things was wrong and in my manic pursuit of trying to be a good child, I learned to subjugate my intuition and sense of self to the rules of others.

That pressure came from everywhere, family, my peers, my community, the world.
I learned to keep my strangeness to myself. I learned that I had to keep my wrongness to myself and at least pretend to be doing things "right".

If it had been a few things I believe I would've been fine. But from an early age it was everything. How I cleaned, what I read, the music I listened to, how I learned.

Later in life it became other things. The clothes I wore, my hair, my appearance in general. Having (and engaging in) homosexual behaviour, wanting to be a writer, speaking up about the things I saw as wrong in my community. So many turns I was given the often blatant signal that I was wrong.

What amazes me is the extent to which my sense of self has remained intact. Probably the one thing I have never given up or given away is my sense of who I am. I know who I am. Sometimes I battle with who I am but, I have never let go of the core of my being.

What I have let go of is the knowledge that I am in fact a good decent person regardless of my credit, my aspirations, my sexual tastes, what I do or don't do with my appearance, etc. What I've let go of is the absolute truth that I do know what's right for me.

If you've read me regularly you probably know I struggle with the idea that I am doing something wrong. That at some point I missed some crucial bit of knowledge or experience and thus my life is fucked up. I have been killing myself over every misstep, mistake, minor thing.
I spend inordinate amounts of time holding myself under a microscope and asking, "what the fuck do you think you're doing?" I have let every nay saying, negative thing I've ever heard linger and steep in my heart until I just couldn't see myself.

Last night as I was waiting for the bus in the cold trying to read and let the hum of criminal activity around me sift through my consciousness I had a moment. The inner voice I'll call my own was screaming.

"GODDAMN IT YOU FUCKING WIMPY BITCH! SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET THE FUCK OVER IT!"

Some people cry their way through pain, others do other things. I as you may have noticed get pissed off. As I stood there shuddering in the wind, shoulders hunched up around my ears my hands involuntarily balled into fists. If I had been standing in front of myself at that moment I would have punched myself in the mouth.

I would have spit in my face.

My anger is not directed at who I really am. My anger is directed at the person I've been trying to be.

My anger is directed at watching myself cling to this stupid fucking idea that I am SO wrong and SO terrible that, this is why I'm struggling and hurting.

That is a lie.

I am struggling and hurting because the whole reason I am hurting so much is because I haven't been honest with myself or true to who I am.

Somewhere along the way in the last few years I lost the woman who would run through fire, eat glass, spit and scratch and claw. The woman who would not and never did put up with shit.

I am not going to do this to myself anymore.

I am not going to suffer and worry and feel like shit because of some nebulous idea that I am not living up to some mysterious standard I set for myself.

I am who I am.

Don't like me?

I don't give a fuck.

Think I'm strange/wrong/immoral/ugly/mean/bitchy/faggy/whatever?

Fuck you.

Fuck me.

Fuck what I heard.

Sound harsh?

It is.

I can almost hear Pete jumping up and down and yelling,

"THAT'S MY BITCH!"

I'm done fucking around with myself. Sometimes I need tough love and nobody can give it to me like I can give it to myself.

I can acknowledge and admit that I have been unkind and uncharitable with myself. That I am guilty of not being true to myself.

OH SHIT.
I KNOW I'M YELLING. BUT WE GOT THE APARTMENT WE MOVE IN ON SATURDAY. GOODBYE CRACKHEADS. GOODBYE SHITTY BUS ROUTE.

Now that is settled. I have some planning to do. I will return to myself. I am going to be honest with myself.

And I am NOT TAKING ANY MORE SHIT.

Not from myself and not from any body else.

Homo out.

I have to pee now I got so excited.
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Thursday, February 02, 2006

First I'm going to profess some sort of undying love for Schmendrick for a link in the forums. I have discovered Pandora and now have an enormous hard on.

I have a feeling I'm going to be abusing Pandora quite a bit. No matter how insane or shitty I feel one of the few absolute constants in my life has been music. Listening to music, playing it, singing it, whatever. From a very very young age I have been obsessed with music and finding new music to love.

Music even more so than reading is a balm to my bruised soul.

So I am more soothed right now. Good music can do that to a girl.

I also have an online word processor to use. Since running Word on my work computer makes it want to shit all over that is a good thing.

I'm a little scattered right now. (To say the least)

I had a big entry about my youth planned but now I just don't feel like it. Maybe another day.

Right now I"m going to sit here and finish my cold coffee.

And just a little more of the love poetry for Rusty-

"I do my dirt all by my lonesome"~ By you know who.

Goodnight Sally.

Homo Out.
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