Precious Things

Random Thoughts Indeed

Wed, 29 Nov 2006 19:51:08 GMT

I guess you could say that when you enter college with eyes open, you are met with a kind of rage. This rage, envoking curses long forgotten, come from the knowledge you get about the world around you: the NC-17 kind where people die all the time and no one gives a shit. You realize taht as the human animal has supposedly bettered themselves, they are ceasing to find slaugter appaling. I see real life go on every day that's bitter, lonely and daming, and I know that I couldn't ever understand that kind of pain...at least not now. I feel the pricks of life that jam into your veins and you're not on any morphine and you can feel the life draining away...yet all around you, the robots walk around, happy in their last meager repetition called the American Dream. I feel the burden, sometimes, of the world, because the world is doomed because humankind wasn't smart enough to prevent her own destruction.

In this failure, I see mine too: my apathy, the laziness, the barely coasting by mockery that i call making an effort. I see it more clearly than I've ever seen anything else. I too am chasing happiness in its most basic format: no worries, a barely fuctional life. Then...then I inhale of the mother and remember: we're all in this together. My hate still has love, my hang ringing can still bring caresses. In this moment, I see that line of male and female blur, and I remember the fine line I continually cross in my own ways. Somewhere in all that I can see an escape to spirituality that I REALLY need to find...and a way to slowly undo the damage this world brings my mind to contemplate. I remember old things...like dirty parking lots, burned out apartment buildings, the scraggly dog outside the Bodega...bits and pieces of my Bronx life. I start to wonder if I saw all of it, am seeing all this, for a reason.

::sigh:: Random thoughts....always interesting. Sex, too, seems to be at the forefronbt of my mind. Not in the lecherous leering way, but in the passion, the subtly, the slow movements that bring out the first wave of pleasure, much like sleeping or smoking. I treasure the human sexuality part, the one that is sweet and sweeping, the one that melts you inside.

Wed, 29 Nov 2006 07:14:17 GMT

HA! drunken state and hapily introspective. I wish Beth might have gave half a damn. ::sigh::

Night, my wonderful babies! ::muah!!!::

Annoyance

Thu, 02 Nov 2006 07:28:29 GMT

You know what sucks. Idle conversation with an asshole online you meet. It's not like a person you meet randomly on a train station or anything. It's a faceless, foolish person who has expecttations you might not meet. I like talking to new people, randomly or otherwise. So when an ass of a person realizes I'm male and not an interesting girl he can mack to, it makes me remember why I retrack from people, and makes me remember why its so hard to be bisexual.

It's hard to like men. No, I'm serious. Men are fucking basic and boring as hell. Why would anyone need a man if all they do is act on stupid impulse and drool? I waste time talking to a male who is opening up to me. Why? Because he randomly friended me and didn't know I wasn't female. Once he discovers I'm male he covers himself and goes and it occurs to me I'm talking to ghosts. Ghosts of the internet, making personalities and fleeing when you don't live up to their perception. Truth is a bitch isn't it? It's funny to have people tell me not to be to be stereotypical when I've shown my pictures to people who've backed away since they didn't know I was dark skinned. Fine. I can be bi-partisan, but don't expect me to respect people. I DON'T. I haven't the moment I realized humans pride themselves on their prejudices, and I can think of nothing more wasteful than categorizing oneself. Fine. Limit your potential. You're all killing time until death anyway. What do I care?

So you know? People are a waste of Earth's time. Sex is degraded to fleeting one worded situations and feelings are nothing more than hindrances to the enjoyment of temporarily bliss rather than fulfilling understanding. So I realize...human beings are more worthless and wasteful than anything on this planet.

Down in a P-hole (It's a Chemical Brothers reference, you fuckin' sickos) or Potsdam Times^-^

Sun, 17 Sep 2006 06:17:19 GMT

...which I would say is good. The week as a whole has been a very sucky one, what with me still trying for that Burger King job at Cornelia. Fuck, what a waste of time that was. I expected a call back, but if I can't even get that then Carrol's company deserves everything they get. But see, all the means is that I have to get a new job. You'd think that sucks in and of itself, but nooo, I still have more problems than that. We have the second freaking math class I've missed, and why? Because I lost my glasses in the rain, so now I'm kinda blind and have to get close to the computer monitor at times to write this. Oh, and pulling a muscle so that I can barely move my left arm, all because I didn't remember to stretch? That really sucked too. Much of this week has been devoted to pain and inner wrath at all the mistakes made. Oh, and the bee sting I got last morning was kinda annoying too.

The weekend, however, made up for all of this, because I spontaneously decided I would go to Potsdam. It was an experience that completely revitalized me. It was as if I were stepping into a familiar home, and is much akin to how I feel when I go back downstate, only here I have positive energy surrounding me. I love being with bubbles2nd and purpleparadox, because by their collective efforts, I was able to remember exactly why I hated leaving Potsdam in the first place. Unlike Plattsburgh, Potsdam was never a place of pretension or imagined itself to be a great big tourist attraction or have these idiotic ties with the military in it. It's just a very isolated town that happens to have two colleges and chilled out people. Yup, even Potsdam rowdy people are better than Plattsburgh ones. It felt good to be around my girls again...I remember Potsdam started with my guys, Kevin and Tony, but as time went by, I could barely recognize what they were becoming. After all this time, I realize that Beth and Tara stood the test of time and are actually interested in bettering themselves as people and not being happy in the little crappy semblance of normalcy they created for themselves. Don't get me wrong: normalcy for people takes on many forms. They can be self inflicted depression or conceit or inflated male ego or...well, a case of the just plain crazy bitch that happens with people from time to time. It was good to be with the girls for different reasons.

Tara made me remember what its like to be cute and serious and funny all at the same time. We ate, smoked and drank Friday into a very pleasing oblivion, and with Sam there, the conversation ignited with jokes and singing, of which I was happy to have apple part in. I remember how I used to be in high school at these times...withdrawn, eager to please, and eventually hostile , until college made me a shadow of the boy that was. If anything, Tara had a hand in making sure I remembered to have fun and how to settle for nothing less than the best with friends and significant others. That said, I also know that Tara made me self aware of sexuality, or at least began to make me start to dare to wonder about it. Don't get me wrong, she wasn't the first person to do that (Jana was) but she was the one that became the continuing influence once Jana wasn't as much in the picture. I began to see Tara as a (weirdly enough) sexual mentor, and while I may have fallen off the track with certain mistakes I made with certain people, Tara still was a mentor in that way. I'm really happy that she and her boyfriend (who I like, so THERE Tara) are so great together, no matter what judgmental people might think of him. Because Judgmental people are assholes...and while I certainly consider myself an asshole, I like to think I give people a chance (particularly my female friends beau at the time)

And then there's Beth. Still Beth but in the good ways now and less like the Beth that made bad decisions. I'm glad to see that, after all this time, Beth and I still click like we used to. Her interests and mine get different in certain points (her being an art major and my being a writer, although I have wet my feet a little in art) but on other levels her and I see eye to eye marvelously. If there was a thing I'd say I regret, its me and Beth not really meditating that much together. It's something I've done with girls I really care about. Now I just look at her current relationship situation, and I can't help but want to be in Potsdam just to massage her and cuddle...not in the "ex-girlfriend with benefits" like some vulture, but in the "I remember and know what you need and what you SHOULD get" kinda way. She's still the sweet girl that likes to be held and hugged and laugh with someone special, much like I like this. If I didn't, let's face it..I'd still be with Sunshine. Ooh, that was mean. Doo dee doo.

I know people won't understand that, mostly because they believe men and women and sexuality cannot be separated, and while I think there is always a tension of sensuality between myself and Beth, its the intent that decides what that really means. I can't help it..I have tried very hard not to dislike my exes if possible (I think I've succeeded...maybe twice, can't lie). With Beth, I know she's a special person and I hate thinking of someone like that feeling empty when alone at night. I don't know what to call that...protectiveness? Big brother syndrome? Undeniable proof that I think emotionally in a way that's sometimes unlike my gender?

But being in Lehman Park again...that made it all good. It wasn't long, but it was enough to see the flora and fauna and feel relaxed and happy that we were walking in mud (and holes) and not really caring. I know something for sure though...I need to go back. I like remembering the feeling that I loved so much the first time I ever went to college and reveled in the joy of being in a nowhere and an everywhere at the same time.

I love my friends.

And now I'm home with my loving girlfriend after a wonderful evening of mall ratting, getting that Abarath book series that evil Beth had in her room, eating at taco bell, going with Joe to his place to smoke and eat 'rooms and then watch Rumble in The Bronx. It really sucked, but it was still fun looking at it in abject horror. Oh yeah...and Kingdom Hearts II is back again, which made me so happy I could have cried. I guess I really am a geek inside..I'm a sucker for a good story.

SLInK

Tue, 12 Sep 2006 09:49:02 GMT

I remember that I felt a sin the first time.
Hidden under my bed, creeping in my head
I burned, I burned
I would have my belly slick the floor.
Slick, slime, mucked and shamed
I keep coming, and I come again and I make myself known.
I don't say hero when the word is fucked
I don't say boo and deploy patriarchy
We left this, all this
and all of these yous and yous and yours
mine ours and mans.
Keep "mans" and be satisfied.

I wouldn't say
I couldn't find the tongue
But if you could pronounce
Like I could that sex dances on our tongues
and the Essence breathes in our hips.
We come back to the place where the forest was dank
and mother was watching but now that times come
We are alone.
Alone in the darkness
with no one watching.

I feel her, feel her
on my tongue, a willing participant
I want to open the doors.
The furies scream in indignation
as I rewrite.

Feel like fluid
move
gyrate
dance
jam
make
me
remember
that
you
'
er
h umanE.

Hear that rhythm
Open that heart
and keep in mind
L O V E

And all of us together
heaped, giggling and nude
are nothing more
than cosmic fibers.

Sometimes people surprise you...and sometimes pills do too, yes no?

Tue, 25 Jul 2006 15:16:59 GMT

At the moment, nursing and really annoying mosquito bite on my second toe on my left foot. Annoying really...I do hate the itch, but I suppose its better than...I dunno, something else. That's just the first thing that entered my head this morning, accompanied by my rubbing it gently with my right foot.

Anyway, yesterday started out really good, and could have ended really good if I hadn't gone to Chug a mug. Apparently, dancing too much causes my glasses to slip off my goddamn face and fall somewhere on the dance floor, resulting in my finding it in a somewhat trampled condition, putting a very quick damper to my night. Sucky as hell, and again I get laughed at for my dancing, which makes me not want to do it anymore. It's hard enough dancing through this muck people call rap and hip-hop..but it's made even more annoying by people telling me I'm out of place. They're unaware of how long it actually took (YEARS) to want to dance to it...I hate the pretension of it half the time, and it pains me to see white guys trying to dance worse than I do, especially when they are as old as they were there that day. I know that's mean, but...no, its not mean. Seriously, red neck looking mofos shouldn't dance. And in all truth, white guys never look like they enjoy it, they look more like they're trying to pass off dancing to get a girl, thus further gaining my distaste. I long for a discotheque...a techno place, or trance...good music that's freeing and fulfills. Stuff my friend Joe plays that makes me WANT to go on the floor and simply BE! That time, that moment, everything is all, all is everything, and the music descends like an alien craft, slow at first and lightly gaining speed until everything's free on the floor: shape, sound and bodies moving to a rhythm hip hop forgot and could never achieve. I suppose when it really comes down to it, "drugs" changed my idea of where music takes you and redefined it as where you want to go.

Before then...well, I got to talk with Tai about his whole situation...poor boy. I swear, only he could do the things he does (like be with a girl not his gf, who is coincidentally his good friend's crush) and not be killed. Do I support him? I have to...I've gotten to know him throughout these years and he was our roomie for awhile...I daresay I love the boy. Glad I'm not in his shoes at the moment, of course, but then, these are his problems. If he wants an ear and advice, I'll give it...if he wants chastisement and admonishing, well, that's not my bag. He has other friends to be angry about what he did...I'm just glad to see he's understanding where he actually wants to go.

Which brings me to Beth, my ex, who I've not spoken to in awhile. Don't get me wrong...the pill Joe sold to me (muscle relaxers) took me to a place I wasn't expecting...pure ecstasy bordering on E (as what Joe explained when I visited him that day) and I rode feelings of happppy for half the day. Yeah, with several p's, people. The world, rotten as I think it is these days especially in this half assed apathetic excuse for a country, suddenly brightened and I felt as if I transcended leagues...and I talked to Beth, my ex.

Let's explain a few things: if there is anything I hoard, its memories, especially good ones. High school were the hardest to hoard because those memories had a different me. It was a me that was shy and unsure of what this world was and what it had in store for me. Everywhere I looked there was evidence of Yonkers and its subversion into ghetto lifestyles or the supposed pretentious idea of "doing better," whatever menial occupation that was. But POTSDAMN...those were, as the Monarch from venture Brothers accurately put it, the "Halcyon" days. Here I found a kind of joy and place of belonging Jana could have understood: summers spent in a modest town in the middle of nowhere with a school within a rectangle, not exposed to the general public...and I loved every minute of it. There was where I had my first amongst several girlfriends, where I finally threw off the oppressive shackles of monotheism in favor of Wicca and eventually human being spirituality, where Pink Floyd's music power burst upon me like the naked tongue biting into the berry: sweet, ripe and trembling amongst the tart of the fruit as it first bursts into flavor, enticing and nude at the same time. My close friends were formed there, from the first time I met the hippie-esque girl Abigail Scaduto to my first encounter with the woman sage I know and you know as Terri Redmond...those days I hoard because that was HOME, pure and simple. Lehman park was not just and never could be an accessory...it WAS Potsdam, was the first place that colored my first time away from my parents and developed me into a separate being from them.

And so, several years later, I visited it to chill with my friend Tara...one of the few left. Potsdam's influence could only reach so far...I found Tamra had not improved herself as I had hoped. I found the Kevin I knew gone, left instead was this fragile pathetic being who followed his own wants and needs, whose perversions I had unseen. Tony, my close good friend, had regressed to nothing more than a thug, a chauvinist, and the darkness in him distressed me so bad I could scarcely believe it. How did it happen? Was I foolish enough to have dreamt them then, in that time and place where sky and water seemed to meet? Did somewhere amongst Lehman's park soft gaze madness flow into the people I knew, and leaving behind little traces of failure in the soul? I couldn't tell...the years had not been kind to many of my friends, and in a way it might have been necessary that I leave Potsdam behind to opt for Plattsburgh, a city guilty of gorging itself on the backs of its history of war.

But hope come to me yesterday in the presence of someone I thought would never change: Beth. I had for years wondered what would become of her. Her decisions in the past were damaging, to herself and her partners at the time, me being one. I had never thought she would get past the day where she herself would transcend...and yet she did so before my eyes, and the pill seemed to soar with my feeling. I remembered I could talk readily to her and just as easily bring my attention elsewhere...and come back and talk all the more. And I could never take Beth out of the Potsdam memories even if I wanted to: she introduced that goddess Tori Amos to me first, and I could never forget that Tori, singing "Leather" unapologetic and bare, coupled with Garbage singing just as melancholy "Milk." I remembered the same Beth that would be my duet in "Bohemian Rhapsody," and yes, she was the Sailor Moon addict, but one that had rivaled my own and that made it all the better. I found that we had both changed as people: Beth had orbited around her mistakes, hovered and saw and paid for them on her own time, while I had slowly found my way out of Potsdam's warm waters to feel a bitter cold, needed and necessary. So years later, I see Beth and I have become better people, wiser even. We could talk about sex, our Rpging and lack of coherent players therein, what we were doing now and I got to talk to her about the so-called "drug" I had come upon and how it had impacted me. She, at least to me, listens now without prejudice as I always have tried to do with her, and I could see she's on the way to become a "sage" woman too..like Terri and Ciara and Jana are, like Amanda is becoming, and it reminded me of the love I've always had for women. In a way I regret not being able to see too many men in this light: Joe comes to mind, and as a brother, Jamar does too.

I unfortunately find that men seem to lose their wisdom as they grow older...I fear this in a way, because I sometimes find the bitterness in me creeping up, though even I know it prevents me from being the things Kevin and Tony are now. I know me better than I used to...I know the fragile part of me that wants so much to have those people I care about close to me, in a way that my family had once been. I wanted to have that since high school, and at moments in Potsdam, i achieved it in a glimmer. In Plattsburgh, it had taken a more realistic form of Brinkerhoff street, where Terri, Brandon, Trish, Jamar, myself and Amanda lived, laughed, smoked and drank. Hell, I remember the comfortable feeling so pure that Terri and I were naked before each other with Jamar following after...not in any awakened sexuality, but rather in a very mature sexual acknowledgment: she was she, and I myself, and Jamar an entity all to himself. We were people looking for a semi permanent infrastructure that was a family outside what we knew was a family, and at the time it was bright waves and ecstasy. Those are the memories I hoard still, as they built me, made me a a part of myself, separate from anyone. I got to know who I was, what I liked and be my own man.

And man, that needs definition. What is a man? What do they mean when they say "act like a man, be a man?" Is it the image of the new age Latino I'm supposed to be, suave and dangerous and close minded to anything "unmanly?" Was I to emulate "white guys," not having my Spanish tongue but adopting the ways of white men and what they perceive as beauty? it may have worked had I been less attentive. I could have been either of these "men." I remember being instilled with Catholic values at one time, not by my parents but by the organization they allowed me to take part in that had Saturday night Mediations and Benedictions where we said rehearsed words in Latin. They wanted to raise us as "men" and I even remember certain trips they took us on to instill that kind of male rapport. I would learn from these experiences that their perception of what a man was and should be was not mine. They could never know that I was my own private sinner, rebellious, sexually aware and quietly nursing a sense of accomplishment that had nothing to do with them. I never needed to have drilled into me obscene and short sighted ideas of what man was, nor did I need anyone to tell me how fucked up these perceptions of men are that they infect society. I could SEE it: within the confines of ghetto men who were supposedly "real men" to the frat trash and egotistical male of my college years: yes, these were "men" alright, and I could see quite clearly that they were, to me, failures at defining it for themselves. I found, and still find, that in order to survive I need to toss aside my own notions of failure.

Which brought me to yesterday when Jamar and I had an argument...he wanting me to get a move on in going back to school and my laziness (and good-pill mood) trying to override him until he exploded at me, and I fought until I realized I was mirroring some of the failure of this town: people too easily persuaded into apathy. The realization made me numb, and I daresay I cried, if only because I felt Jamar's hand at the moment smack that lazy shit right out of me. Cold water burst upon the body and there I was, naked in Lehman park in a sense, being looked at by the flora and fauna, altering me to the fact that I was better than this, better than the menial Burger King worker. I was a WRITER and I always would be and would die if I denied it to myself with laziness. I got off my ass and went with Jamar, and I will get back to school and get that Bachelor's again. It belongs to me.

And then, of course, a visit to Joe's where we saw Jackie Brown while smoking, but before that I remember arriving at Joe's after Jamar and I returned from the college...I was flushed, happy, and of course dehydrated and hungry. The pills' affect had not worn off, and I still felt all of that fuzzy feelings, warm and loving at the same time. They had pizza, and filtered water and needless to say, heaven laid its hand on me and said, "Eat. Drink. Remember these essentials as the only ones you need to survive. Appreciate these times." I did, and I do.

These days may come to an end. I'm unsure of the future and, as I said, hoard the memories I still have of the people, but their "then" and "now" are important. I gained friends and I've lost them. The truth is I will remember a time I loved them all, whether we still speak anymore or not. They made and broke parts of me, and they were blueprints to life and its inconsistencies. May I continue to learn and grow and know...and still love, love everywhere.

Orange

Wed, 14 Jun 2006 08:04:36 GMT

In the dark, I pen words
That chonicle dark confession.
Close to lips, draped skin
naked and soft to the touch
In secret I feel the swell and release
Of my aching stomach
So much inside
THat I feel myself strain
Wanting
Needing a drift on a cloud
and here I know
that touch can transcend gender
meaning, time
Where lovers sign words
to others and others
but mean every word
as they cascade, ballet
Pirouette into facts
But they alter
They change shape
What is more pleasing?

I would say
A willing one, aside a traveler
exploring how ripe the human animal
makes itself.

Rising

Fri, 09 Jun 2006 10:58:47 GMT

I call it rising because it feels something like that. Today I did something new, although I should say yesterday because its a bit more accurate, but I digress. I took Mescaline pills, nine given and there are four remaining after I experimented. The high, from what I observed, is as Joe told me...feeling in the firty five minute wait, a tampering off, and then it begins anew. I also find it does very strange things (good, but whatever) to my sex drive, or perhaps it can be said that it merely opens my mind a little to fantasies I don't really stare in the face. It's an interesting thing and while not something I know I'll have everyday access to or should even be explored at this time, it certainly makes me aware of things of the orgasmic nature.

I should think that the recent meme I took began that, but I felt a prolonging now. It's strange...to feel like I'm on fire with raw sensual power, which should usually make one extremely agressive, and yet I have that wave of passivity followed by that euphoria. It's a kind of summoning in a way...dangerous and lovely at the same time. I sometimes wonder if, at these time, I should further pursue Jungian theory about the Anima and the Animus...a tapping into the sort of female energy that makes up syzygy. It sounds mad, but I think it needs that exploration.

So many feelings, and they prevent me from getting a good night's sleep, if I ever truly get those things lately. How long this'll last, even I can't say. But I think I can get something out to release it.

In those times when I was formed
It did not seem taboo.
What is, by any name, a man?
They tell you to know these traits
Obscure rituals that beg
the crudest of nature.
Biting, possessing, ripping the flesh
As it stands, exposed, pink and new
To be pillaged and then forgotten or prized.
I cannot claim my plunder.

They say be a man.
I cannot be a man like this:
lace at my hip, stocking up to the knee
the yearning in places yet unexplored
the look in the eye that screams to be
taken...in the way that one chooses
Lilith or Eve, or just be the mistress
Neither dutiful nor rebellious
just miming the path, knowing the signs.
I walk alongside her.

So are you just another ____?
I ask her, wanting to know.
She looks at me and smiles.
We have existed beyond those names
I am the girl you've always known
I am the nurturer that's there
The boy has always been, and so have I.
But the girl in you has yearnings
They are yours too, and you know
there's no easy way to Syzygy
They say you look to fill youir want

and sometimes that want is you.

Hm. This is one poem I may want to expand and/or rewrite. I think I'll actually take suggestions on this one.

Tue, 06 Jun 2006 11:42:31 GMT

LJ Interests meme results

anime:
Yeah, like a lot of other people, I love my anime. I won't say I've been an admirer real far back, but I'd say about the time sailor Moon was coming from Dic that I started to become a Sailor Moon fan, and thus entered into the world of anime. It was awhile before a series could top it, at least, until I saw Neon Genesis Evangelion. After that, well, the rest is history.
bbw:
I know I talked about this a little in my previous LJ name, but since I did list it as an interest, I feel I might as well do it again. Yes, I like women with more of a plus figure than I like skinny women. No, I don't apply that to just women I think happen to pull off chubby or whatever. I dated a woman that most people would have called obese and yes, she was both that and taller than me so we looked like the weirdest couple (nevermind the whole interracial aspect) but so what? Women are women and I'll always appreciate them as such.
fantasies:
Can one definition go? maybe...who knows? I have lots of fantasies...some more extreme then others that borderline fetish, some do not. I guess I'll never really be a fan of vanilla sex...its boring and uninspired. I'm a creative person, and so sex can't be boring.

Fantsies are also just something I HAVE to indulge in as far as a writer is concerned. There are things yoiu think about, situations, where you go "Man, that'd be messed up in real life, but it'd make a great book." So there you go...fantasies go a long way.
fosters home:
I love the show, and from someone who prefers to watch cartoons, that says a lot. The characters are honestly funny and original, and some of the one liners are absolutely hysterical.
mysticism:
This goes, in a way, for most religions, even monotheism. The mystic will always be an attractive figure in terms of their spirituality...they can transend from one realm to another. I have always been confused as to the kind of writing I'm going to do, but more often than not, it'll deal with mystic figures, probably women for the most part.
pansexual:
This is a category that more accurately describes me than bisexual, which is easier for stupid people to understand. I don't choose to see the world, I guess, into the three sexualities of gay, straight or bi because I think that's limiting...it's as if the only way you can express sex and love is by categorizing it. Neither love nor sex are easily defined and even harder to dissect. Why bother?

So you have an interest in those you see. You appreciate the beauty that is the human body in various ways, whether by checking someone out, flirting, having sex,, being in love. So who's to say, unless you actually feel that you have no desire for the same/opposite sex, that you aren't pansexual?
potsdam:
My old college town, and I miss it. It was small, yes, and not very active as far as clubs and all was concerned, but it had a certain country appeal to it I can't forget...not country as the redneck stupid kind, but as the "look at how beautiful things are up here" kind. If I get a little wistful about it, its because it was the first place I ever called home.
sailor moon:
I explained a little of this, but I'll go into depth. I loved this cartoon when I was younger, and I had no trouble saying it beacause I had already spent a good portion of my life with girly cartoons to begin with. As i learned more about the show, like its gay characters and how much larger the missions the senshi had to go through increased, not to mention how little a part the male character actually played, I became ecstatic. The anime, for two hundred episodes, was uplifting and positive in the way it portrayed women soldiers, particularly the Outer Senshi. I will always be a moonie.
sexuality:
So after blathering on about what I see as pansexuality, we come to this. I guess in a way I couldn't escape answering it either.
I spent a lot of time being ashamed of sexuality...probably because I was still Catholic at the time when I started coming in bloom. I had a lot of the awkward encounters some boys have when young, the weirder ones when you find yourself the submissive one, and they made me think about what I thought of my own sexuality. As I've said, some things aren't easy to define, but you can always try as best you can. I will never say, then, that my sexuality hasn't played a part in my life because it has. I learned how compassion can be felt with a gentle touch, and that limiting myself only to the opposite sex as far as looks go was only learning half of what's out there in terms of sex. I learned also that sex is often misused when a lot of people are involved, which was probably what resulted in only involving two. I learned also that I want to learn more.
stoner logic:
And THIS was something I put because I think it describes more accurately what hapens when I smoke. I don't sugar coat it, and I don't pretend that I don't know smoking isn't illegal. I WILL say that most commericals and perceptions of weed is retarded because most of time, it shows what happens when weed is used by irresponsible people. As a college student, you learn to balance out several philosophical and mental states: your school mental, yoiur work, youir stoned, your drunk, your meditative, that sort of thing.
The logic I talk about comes from really trying to go somewhere when intoxicated, not just do silly things, laugh and eat. I'm talking about thinking a lot about your state in life in where you are, where you go and what you might do later.

Enter your LJ user name, and 10 interests will be selected from your interest list.

Sexy Boy
I won't tell if you won't
How your hips sway a little when you walk
and I notice you shaking that as if
I won't see
won't peak
But I don't know
I think I like that

Its wild, isn't it
the Kit Cloudkicker
to your Baloo
But we're no bears
we're just traveling here
Halfway between my back
Pressed to the floor
and when did a bear
make a roar and a purr?
all the way down
to my sweating belly button

Maybe I'm just dreaming you
I can see the exposed flesh
of your shoulders in the wall
where that lines cross this one
I can feel the tender skin
sweet sweat, didn't know
you'd taste so good.

It's crazy, isn't it
Faggotry in motion
or some crude derisive word
Because I let the boys
have their fun with the words
You and I can
Can play without them.

In the Year when Friends were Foes
Half a mile away, left you my autograph
stupid gestures of "I'll see you agains"
We smiled and laughed a couple years back
Never thought we'd be strangers
But I didn't know a lot then. Like

How a son of a bitch the distance can be
between a friend and a fool that keeps on trying
But its fall and the fireflies are gone
If all you can chase are glowing asses
Then you might as well stay in the field
and stay transfixed.

Long time ago, this marked the spot
I walked a mile, but you're not in my shoes
Never were
So I picked up these beat up Converse and went my way
But in this passing
You should know

A friend is a foe when she hurts hersef
Don't know when to drop the knife
Milking the line of death and defeat
knowing full well you straddle it daily
So I'll be the first to say
Stay fucking the ground but remember
you weren't that far gone.

Maybe I shouldn't have...but I think I'm good

Tue, 02 May 2006 00:48:16 GMT

So...after spending most of the day sort of puttering around since I needed more sleep for once (damn insomnia, but it makes for good sex, for some reason), finally went to Joe's. It was interesting...got to learn that Kira is trying to specialize in art therapy. It really startles me how good of people Joe, Kira and Sarah are...they actually make my better parts come out (the ones that actually likes people). We went for a ride where I got to find out how stupid people on the road actually are, and then when we got back, Joe, Kira and I smoked some strange Opium-ish plant with a bit of Lavender and relaxant. Kira lent me ::LOVE:: her vibration cards, so by the time I got here, I started into them and listening to music to get me in an even more introspective mood...threw in some incense and suddenly I felt powered all over. Of course, I also went to http://www.wwwcomcom.com to see what would happen, and sure enough I got so inspired I started writing for the novel that has only, until now, existed in my head and in little stupid bits. Now, though, I'm beginning to at least start to flesh it out...I have nothing else to write really, since both my RPG's are kinda at a low point.

So...I guess I'm posting this to reinforce the fact that mind traveling has its advantages...and so, of course, do fucked up drawings that I love.

Catharsis

Sat, 04 Feb 2006 19:19:39 GMT

Ahh. I feel content, If I felt any more content, I'd make myself some tea...in fact, I'll go do that.
Ok, back with Jasmine/citrus tea and I feel a lot more focus. Right now I feel like I'm getting so much energy I feel like bursting or something, and that kind of thing makes it hard to write. Anyway, I did mention in elpedrososama that I would elaborate more on a couple things, and I better write it down now so I don't forget or just get tired.
Anyway, Tori has been doing absolute wonders for me in so many ways. She's a definite feminist, she believes in Mary Magdalen being a part of the bible but cut out by a patriarchal church dogmatic structure (and come on now, who WOULDN'T believe that) and she uses Goddesses in certain incorporations of how they applied to certain instances of her life. Her type of thinking I've seen sometimes in female friends I've had, but few come anywhere near sounded as spiritually a part of the Earth as Tori. I know the fault of that is, in a way, this world fights against being like Tori: spontaneous, smart, willing to crawl inside oneself and have conversations with yourself and the earth. I just recently skimmed an article about Russian skinheads attacking immigrants in Russia and I just think: God, this kind of ignorant barbarism continues, and people just seem to learn nothing from it." That kind of thing makes me despair about people because it just shows a general acceptance of this patriarchal world, separating itself from any will of the feminine: its cutthroat, aggressive when frightened by something new and its war-like in every way to a bunch of patients waiting to be Euthanized. I think these things and wonder: Shouldn't I be more patriotic than this, and a few years ago I would have thought "Geez, I should remember that I was born and raised here and I should have pride in that." I know now that there is a kind of feeling going around to answer this question, a very simple, "Who cares?" I don't have that attitude anymore. Now its "Because this place is killing itself and we're allowing it because we're too busy being entertained by the parade even though we kinda know its only there to distract us."

But Tori represents a beacon, in my opinion, in some of these rare people that radiate a warmth to fight, to battle, to remember the war of the minds is still happening, and right now we're on the losing side. Technology has put stopper in philosophy because it is so much easier to fall asleep in this world, doing drudgery work and being unable to fight the system. Yet we're everywhere, aren't we? The thinkers, the talkers, the anarchists. We come in every color and we have that message of basic human emotion and richness. I feel it here sometimes, hitting my mind in a euphoric wave that, at that particular moment, I've fallen into the sea of shared bliss, and there they are, shining their beacons as I shine mine. Here we are, in this vast wasteland, a war brewing to sink us all in, and the focal points are scattered. It's where you make them, where you take a stand, and there's the one route you made for others.

Reading this book is actually a lot like how I was feeling when I read Stephen King's "On Writing," but Tori is having a different effect. I feel like I'm descending down these paths, some leading to that long lost fabled feminine that, for males of this era, can never be opened or are wallowed in to the point of mockery. It's a rich experience, and I recommend it to anyone who wants a part of such a journey.

So as you can tell, all the time I've spent at Joe's has opened a floodgate of stories and rants even I am surprised to come from my lips. I don't remembering talking so much with friends when I was younger, but now that I think about it, I think my cousin was the one I opened up to the most, and he;s the first person I really remember creating stories with. I think it was something there that made me want to try to write and here I am, remembering all that again. When I do this, I remember why it is I started and continue to smoke weed: I allow myself to travel outside Plattsburgh and remember that there are moments like these, in between bliss and a conversation about politics or music or what have you, that I remember I still have the stain of being born in these times, and the feeling of wanting to be a part of something good overwhelms you. I see, in these times, where Beatniks were born and why hippies exist, outside of stupid regalia. Its not the outfit or even the accessories with it: people pay too much attention to something so insignificant. "Oh, the longhair/beads/vegetarian/bell bottoms/dirty/drug addict...and all that shit that has nothing to do with being a hippie because its simply the disguise you wear at the time. The essence is the attitude, the beliefs, the search for the new and the exploration of self. No wonder a douche like Dr. Phil makes so much money: people care so little about exploring themselves they feel the need to ask someone else to do it. That's not help, that's being lazy. There's a time to ask for help, yes, but helping yourself should always be paramount.

And then we go to poor, confused Jim who came to Tabu's in his get up: a girl's blouse (shoot, I've done that before, I have sisters) and bra with enhancement under it (which I technically only did twice, but that was specifically for drag). Jim felt it was something of a failure because he doesn't like the way looks on him. I can see where his frustration comes from, but I can't help but think it was coming anyway. I know Jim, and while Jim can have times where he isn't shallow, I've always found his perception of women to be narrow minded and influenced by this society's perception of beauty. This, understandable, bugs me when Jim himself is nowhere near society's perception of what HE should look like. This, of course leads me to this conclusion: if Jim is to find any kind of peace, he needs to conform to society's standard of what a woman should look like, which would be hard as hell for him, or he could accept himself in the way he looks now and continue to see where that leads him. I do wonder what he envisions himself as when he thinks of women, and I really can't help but think that, to a certain extent, I have a better grasp of what that might mean. I don't say that to make myself sound like I alone holds the secrets to women or some ridiculous notion like that: women are, if nothing else, complex and different and I've come to love that most about them. Men could have so much more of a garden of personality if they didn't mind occasionally exploring the labryninth of their soul and seeing where it takes them.

With Jim, I almost get the feeling that him being a woman is a way of him wanting to get to the erotic part of himself as this other persona of a woman, and ultimately possessing feelings and things in him that he doesn't really understand. I can see that there's a way that he might do that without making any selfish detours, but one only wonders. He wants to control his sex in a way that seems limiting: he cannot really indulge his bisexuality, so he only chooses the label, but is particular about when it might manifest itself. To me, that's less about exploring and more about displaying a part of self that makes you seem like something you're not or simply aren't able to get to because of immaturity. I feel like I'm getting there, though. I feel like I'm reaching a place where I can keep those elements of the feminine and surface them as mine rather than something to argue as a topic and then promptly discard for another. I've felt THAT particular pull for a long time, but since I was raised Catholic you can only imagine the degrees of guilt and bemoaning that ensued in my mind. At any rate, I'm just hoping Jim gets to that place without derailing somewhere in which he forgets this as just a chaotic episode or phase: as far as I know, I've never had a phase so much as I was simply running away for certain associations. It's something I've done to myself several times, and am happy that college got me away from that kind of thinking. I'm here now, still looking, still exploring where I am and what I think as a person.

Fri, 27 Jan 2006 14:34:02 GMT

A few days ago, Terri came and bought, as she calls it, Snootchie Bootchies (Weed) and I got very, very lifted. I find that at these times the story ideas start to invade me mind and its all I can do not to bring a notebook and pen with me at these times. It's funny...I always thought I would never be able to write anything and had wasted my college education, but the truth is its really all about writing and rewriting and development of that process. When the weed hot that night, I found that I couldn't shut up: I was either philosophizing or telling stories of things that happened with colorful detail and critique that I thought to myself "Why AM I getting cold feet about something I know I was meant to do? The stories are there, and I don't really write fan fiction because I prefer my own stories so I'm not really restricted there, and I'm HERE, so I can get the experience I need to write a story to begin with anyway."

I swear, I want to try going to a rave, justifiable only by need to see more into the complexities of the human animal no longer in the world of the mundane: quick to anger and rage, communicating through the body just barely in order to get a girl (you can tell,trust me) or liking a song because of its "beat" rather than experiencing something live and real with your body. I admit that in my youth I hated these gatherings (the former) and avoided them because I thought I couldn't dance, but mostly because I couldn't see what the point to it was. When I'm talking about parties, of course, I'm talking about my high school days with hip hop and my own internal and external clumsiness not really understanding the point to any of it. Now I tend to drink at these gatherings, so I can see body communicating that way, but not so much of my preference. I enjoy the dancing, but I'd rather feel it instead. I know there's a different way to feel with dancing: I felt it at the gay bar in Vermont on New Years, where I had abandoned my shirt to settle for my T and danced with healingwillow and cabbitofharuka to techno. There I felt something different coursing through my body: it was warm, burning, and simply body communication very different from the dancing at, say Chug a Mug, that I do now which is more my body remembering the streets and where I was back then and still am right now. In a way, that dancing is remembering my roots that I purged at first because I didn't want to be looked at as a "typical" minority, whatever that might mean. I was afraid of being pigeon-holed before people got to know me and say things about me negatively. Now I know the truth: trifling white people from the North Country will pretty much accept you, or not accept "urban" values, or will and look stupid. Either way, I really have decided I could care less what they do, and that I should be more concerned with exploring myself a lot more.

With me now suddenly knowing two eventually transgendered people, I started really thinking and rethinking how I relate to their feelings. I could see how say, a male would feel more of an affinity with a female state of mind more than a male: I've certainly met a few of them. There are, then, guys who choose to go the next step and become female, and work slowly to get to that place. Now, the idea isn't mad to me: to be honest, I've felt, for the most part, more connected to females than males anyway, and since I believe in past lives, I feel like I have been female before. The reason I don't try to be transgendered myself is, honestly, I feel like I am male now for a reason: not one mandated my a God on high because that's what HE decided and what HE wants, but because the deities know I have so much to learn, and that sometimes experiencing them in another body in another sex will makes you all the better. I like being male for the fact that I can keep these emotions of mine and play with the idea of what being a male means. To be honest, though, I have my times where I want to know what its liked to be sought after by another male: I know damn well that I could have claimed bi-curious a few years ago, but "curious" would never begin to explain my thoughts and complication with both the male mind, the ego and, maybe to a lesser extent, the body. I say the "lesser extent" because its the thing that least bothers me: I can appreciate the male body (as in find value and appreciation) as well as, I think, any gay male could, but I cannot identify with the male ego and often have clashes with what is perceived as the male mindset. I have felt a desire, at times, to be conquered by a male likeness: I've had faint thoughts like that since childhood, just echoes of male attraction that never really manifested itself. I have, after all, been in nothing but female relationships, and with the exception of my first girlfriend, pretty serious relationships. I don't know what its like to make love to man, or to have that happen to me, and while those thoughts are invalid while I have a girlfriend and am very happy with her and feel good with her, I do feel those pangs and this curiosity that, I admit, is a little childlike simply because the earliest homosexual thoughts I had was back then. Even if I never in my life meet a guy or have sex with him, there are always my stories, and there, of course, is always my friend diamondshadow to give full detail on the male sex and the male animal.

In the meantime, I ponder also the relationship of being prey and predator. I've been in straight relationships, and in them I have, for the most part, been the predator, initiator and it sometimes just gets on my nerves. I think I can imagine a threesome simply because those rules would be up for grabs: there are now, then, three people involved, the rules switching back and forth and back again, I would say more, but this entry is already out of control, and I think I have given more than enough entry-age for cabbitofharuka, diamondshadow and *special thanks* anneelise today. I'll continue to write though.

Memories Fleeing

Mon, 19 Dec 2005 09:13:25 GMT

Plattsburgh has suddenly lost its magic. I don't know where it went...I think it started when Cindy went her own ways with Liz, then eventually, Terri left. I can't lie...Terri was a big part of Plattsburgh for me, and Cindy was the first open window to other friends I met here. Now those friends have gone their separate ways (mostly) and I still have a few, but now the place is starting to get rotten. I can only vaguely recall when Potsdam ever felt this filthy, yet I still can't picture it all too well. I think it was around the time Mike and Maggie came about that the magic was at its most potent: the green showed her face to me, and we've courted ever since. But it was more than that: there was Jamar and Tai and Da and Kristin and others then, and we were so much younger. Sure, Jones was bitter, but so was I, and so were we all, and together we were grapefruit, all tangy and tart but a sweet aftertaste later. I think that remains a little...it happens whenever I stop insulting Jamar or bantering with Tai long enough to realize they're the closest I have to brothers: Tai my aggravating disagreeable more masculine one, Jamar my more in common feminist/slut master one. It's all one great trip, and I'm just on for the ride. Shit...I can't make haeds or tails out of the last few years, but I know that I'm getting closer.

I actually feel a lot like this icon...

Sat, 12 Nov 2005 19:17:46 GMT

I just barely am living as far as expenses go, and I've never felt more like clockwork than I do now. Difference is, I've been irresponsible, enough to the point where I am actually wondering about seeing my parents. I ca't bear to have them see me how I am now...financially unstable, barely making classes, my hair a wreck and my stupid habit of trying to forget these problems known only to myself. I've forgotten...I drunk too much and it worried the people around me. I'm putting that on hold now, but that doesn't change the fact that I still feel useless now. I don't want to wrte this on my other LJ name...I don't think anyone needs to read me whining about my problems when they've gpt so many of their own, but I need to get it out. I feel like I'm letting people down, most importantly my roomate Tai as far as our living situation is concerned, and I know that its going to be worse when we try to visit our families in Christmas than now. I need money, and I think I might have to work another job so that Amanda and I have it. Right now though, I'm just tired and weak and feeling like all of this is a bad dream. I triued so hard to do this without asking my parents for things...I want them to think, at lest, that I'm doing my best to be my own man and be independent so they don't have to worry about me. But I just start to wonder if my words matter all that much anymore, or my opinions. I'm hungry, I'm kinda scared, and I'm ashamed at how far I've fallen from the freshmen student in college who saw such a bright future for himself.

I wish I had people to turn to for this stuff. In a way, I guess I never really had someone that close who really understood me beyond my token angriness or my supposed "feminazi" opinions: someone who saw I was still a good person and wanted to help my friends. I've given off the impression that I'm just mean and nasty, and yeah, maybe I've become more agoraphobic than I used to be. I'll admit, there are times I want to stay home and shield myself from the failures of this world, let alone my own. I kept making it somehow, but I don't even know how long that'll last.

Tue, 04 Oct 2005 08:24:25 GMT

I feel full of what should be shame but instead I feeol relief, relief in the knowing. I always wondered about the potency of shrooms, but when it happens, I see where the tripping balls name comes from. I feel like I trip my body: I have the conversation and confession of secrets it dared not but whisper. I feel warmer in this knowledge, better that I moved on into this place where I admit where the pull came from, where I really stood. I'm still hoping and I'm still hanging on...these last few years, I know, are where my party years start to wane: a job is required and I have to make my parents proud. I WANT to. Yet I feel a part of me, a place where I am startled to find goodness, is in the drug culture when you meet people so smart and so on a plane of understanding (even when you vomit on their rug and I know Jamar won't let me forget that) but I find where that want for companionship is. I find where I've been tracing my footsteps to discover I've echoed footfalls of so many others. only to find I was really just looking for me. Where was I to stand in a world where my race, my minority, my gender/class/orientation was up for sale and set for display?

I need to rest, to understand where I am and what I'm trying to do. I need to walk a path I know I was destined to follow, but where it ends I do not know. I feel like somethin wihin may cure the without, and yet I yearn for the whole knowledge, the finding out of where this journey leads.

Where the Eyes don't Meet

Tue, 04 Oct 2005 06:10:05 GMT

I have a confession and I’ll make it tonight.
For longer than I can remember,
I have tiptoed past the place where the line
Is brightest with blood and fire,
I BATHED in it, screamed, recovered the blisters
Oh how they burnt, oh the eternal sting.
I have felt the caress of what is called “ho”
But it is lust nonetheless, and it’s a force to be felt.
Throes of secret sighing and cries
Tiptoeing past the room
Where they lay.
They lay.
I am still, mouse to them.
What in this world do I know about them?
Hard bodies, defying gravity, softer ones
Sprinkled with sugar dust and radiance
I keep hope I am not
Am not one that makes submission
So easy.
Iamnot
Maybe I feel like that crossroad is near
I cross the tracks and yeah
I play CHICKEN!
I do love it, delicious forbidden
I loved my downtrodden eyes
Silt still glistening and feet bare
I want to, ohhh, I want to
This ChICkEN has a hold
Won’t let go. Won’t let go.
I feel that unfamiliar touch
Sometimes light, but solid all the same
Rift with my sensibilities but
Built and rugged. I watch them go and I know,
I am not this. Me am I. Still, want to know
This.
This.
Weaker knees never told such a little (timid) expression
It was small, adorable.
I know I’m wrong.
But right. Burning still

I know I dwell in places in the dark
Where echoes keep beats of sex and dark glances
Red and black, flashing
Falling into basebeats and thump thump thump
Look at them whiteboys dancing all discom
Bob
U
Lated.
I’ll keep my secrets in the few crossing, beckonings
I’ll never understand.
I desire the muck, the tell tale swallow of liaisons that
I kept, dark and dusky, musky in its age and draw of rich tones
Chocolate deep and more still, Drippping wwet
I’ll hide in corners and keep
These secrets to myself.

Not drowning yet, but pretty damn close

Sun, 02 Oct 2005 16:23:01 GMT

I have time to think outside the drinking...and I guess I do it to occupy the time when I'm not reading or going to class or working (the latter being a pretty much constant except fpr two days). This is usually the time where I say something about feeling like a robot, but that's pretty much to be expected. I chose this, after all, and I'm not going to complain about the fact that I'm supporting myself free of parents and am living with my girlfriend and good friend. That is, things don't seem so damn bleak unless I start thinking about the past and all that.

I think it has something to do with how many friends I used to have and how they've radically decreased. People like Cindy who I've not talked to that much and has her own traps to dig herself out of. People like Kristin who I see I've wasted so much trying to help but inevitably stays the same, and what kind of fool am I to try to meddle with someone who likes who they are? Da, who I miss a lot but her problems are also ones she chooses to deal with how she will. Jana, who I love the most and can't even get in contact now because I still don't have a phone and would probably have to pay off the old phone bill just to get closer to having our own phone. Then there's Tony and Kevin, who changed so much from when I last saw them.

But I am sick of complaining about these things. I want to get back to what I do best: writing and laughing and working, which no one can say I don't do well. I think I may stay on this Lj name more and keep my alter for unimportant things...most of my closest friends know this name anyway. I'll continue this name because this is the me I am trying to become, and if I become less than what I am someday, I'll abandon these altogether and not resist my fate as a fool anymore.

Sun, 18 Sep 2005 08:03:25 GMT

Tara visited. So many good Potsdam feelings and admiration. Love my lil' crazy Potsdam girl. FOR-EV-AH!

Yeah. I'd say something more coherent, but DRUNK and listening to Tori, as I have been for the past few days. Ugh, but I'd either jump Tori or be her bitch willingly. Jamar here, and we were high...but we had enough beer to do Full Metal Alchemist drinking game...bad. REAL bad.

Pink is nice to hear in this state.

Tue, 13 Sep 2005 06:23:11 GMT

Wouldn't you know it...my first day with internet and I get in an LJ flame war. Same old story about neglected people and problems and angst and all...the whle situation is out of hand, and I just wonder if its even worth pretending PLattsburgh was how it used to be. Kristin, Tai, Terri, Cindy, Kim, USTA, Pitas, Maggie...those things feel so long ago, like something out of a dream. Dani was still creating and Kristin was the fun fag hag....hell, I even miss the dorms. I look at them now and feel a thousand miles away. Was it so much simpler back then? Maybe it was...maybe I wasn't an "annoying asshole" back then. What happened then?

I guess I got cynical, or maybe it's just speculation and I just AM cynical, which makes sense because I have a lot to be cynical about. If I had only grown up in the North Country, I could be a lot simpler minded...I mean, I'd just go to college not too far away and sure, my horizons woould be expanded, but home wouldn't be too far and I could still hold on to these values everyone keeps talking about. Instead I was raised in he City, and from there to the NOrth Country...so I learn about how different people are and have to go back to my more close-minded home, not really fitting in there anymore.

I'd say this was angsting, but its more regression. I'd like to think that by now I stopped doubting myself and come to terms with the fact that not everyone loves me or even likes me. A long time ago that would have mattered, but now I just don't care. I feel like I've aged five years with a fast forward button and college flew by. I don't even think I've felt irresponsible enough yet or reckless enough...just sour and suddenly wondering where the time went. I wish I care a little more that vestiges of the old group are falling away now, and I love dearly those that stay...but I can only wonder how long that lasts.

I always have been burdened with the thought I would always be alone even with friends, and though college was a kind of turning point, I learned the hard way that no one's going to pamper your feelings, particularly if you're male, unless you wear weakness on your sleeve, and I don't. I keep it under secret cuf links and loose belts and tied around my waist. I had enough time to stop being vulnerable, and high school made sure of that...maybe that's why I kinda hate it still. The whole struggle to not fall to the waste side and fight for my education, to sit by oneself in a crowded cafeteria, that sorta shit...it does something...just not as much as friends.

Three come to mind, as they always do...the mind, the heart, the soul. The things that help the functional human being. I feel like the people I've called best friends helped to shape each of these things and so I measure them in those.

The Mind
...and that's when we come to Dani because, come on, if there's anyone I've met whose mind I admire so much, its Da. It actually blows my mind to think how long I've been fangirling her works and how close I've felt to her. Nevermind the age thingy...I think if you meet Da, you fall in love with her a little bit (unless you're her enemy) and wish her well. Da and I have had a bit firsts...my first encounter with a cute real geeky girl, my first picking said geeky girl up stairs and of course, can't forget smoking up with her too as a first. I've shared a great many memory with Da, and though we may not be as close as we were before, I hope that changes, no matter what friction within friends circles happen. I love my Da-Chan/speccy girl^-^

The Soul
...which makes me first think of the person who's soul feels the oldest to me anyway, Terri. Nevermind five years of being pains in each others asses (half a semester where we were technically living together) and my huge, huge (can't call it crush, its too light) sharing with her. Terri has been one of the very few women up to this date who I can say shares my mind in both apathy and enthusiasm, and sometimes we surpass each other. When I say I love Terri, I mean it, but love is different in every meaning to the person you're with. With Terri, its love in the aspect of her beauty, inner and outer and in the mind. When she left Plattsburgh, it took awhile, but the empty ache happened and continues still. I'm adjusting...and still adjusting...and still adjusting.

The Heart
Jana. The quisessential spark that made Pedro to begin with. The first time I was ever friends with someone that I loved and hated at the same time. She precedes the Jamar and the attitude I would soon have when she gave me the framework to becoming strong and assertive. If I'm good friends with girls at all, its because I became Jana's girl first, weird and androgynous as it sounds (she actually had me take a bubble bath with all these really precious oils and said that she spoiled me like a girl. No complaints). To her I owe much and many, and I only wish I could be as good as she's been to me...its as if she's been a friend/girlfriend/parent/sister-I-never-had. I miss her so much right now it isn't funny.

I almost wish I could be wonderful and nice and kind to all my friends, but part of me has Jana still, and Jana never let me wallow...I think that was what was the hardest part. Wanting to feel bad, to stew in pain and disappointment and heartache because its so familiar...and then someone swoops down and says, "Hey, fuck that. Let's get some coffee." And you do, and have conversations where you go WTF and laugh and laugh because, hey, if the world were complete shit and your life was too, would you be talking to this person? Would they even care about you, whether they were gentle like the touch of a mother to a newborn or as lashing as the most forked tongue? No, you know you're alive and you breathe and its bitter but its good and you're vindicated for another day.

What can I say? When it comes down to it, I'm just a big fucking softie and I love my friends to death, even the ones I argue with all the time (which actually explains both Kristin AND Cindy...no wonder they didn't get along).

Thu, 25 Aug 2005 16:38:49 GMT

A new home is a tricky thing to settle into, particularly when you’ve gotten pretty used to the crowd you’ve had in the previous home…new faces and new things to adjust to, and then there’s the whole new ambitions and self reflection thing that’s really a kicker. For the time being we have no contact with the outside world, and as maddening as that is, it also has its own depth of relief in it. One gets the feeling that without influences, peace can be somewhat achieved and a better sense can be had about evaluating the current station in life. For me, I dig mine in relation to where I’m going now…if all of this has been for nothing, or, at the very least, if I had possibly maybe set my hopes too high. Haven’t had that much help from my old crew…they’ve mostly split on their own from Brink with the exception of my crazy fag brother Jamar, leaving me to face an expectant old buzzer who I’ve come to realize has no want to pay the money we gave him for the pissant apartment we came to call home for a little over a year. The discovery of this betrayal saddens me as well as makes me want to commit mass murder on deceiving old bastards, but we press on, of course. The old Brink crew, though, have yet to come by, and that bothers me a lot more than angers me, despite what other people may think (or what I might have said).

That was a great time, or at least, a time where things had less impact, those crazy mad days at Brinkerhoff. There were times I hoped would last longer than they had, but wanting that was only having high hopes of mediocrity. I’m here now, with a woman that loves me as much as I love her dearly, and the only man I think I’d ever even consider sleeping with and not wondering what the hell happened the next day. The apartment is infinitely superior to the Brinkerhoff house with a landlord that won’t randomly drop by to be a pain in the ass. We have ample room in the kitchen, the living room, our own room (of course) and though the bathroom is smaller, it’s still homier. I miss Terri and Trish like mad, and wish nothing but the best for Brandon if I don’t miss him altogether. The bond we all have might be strained, but it still kept us alive and made us better people, I think. Sunny, my ex, has so much more to learn, but that comes as no surprise considering she’s the youngest. She never shared our bond (even Amanda could) and I can only see her getting worse ulcers and hating the world, much like her aunt. I had hoped better of her, but I tried to warn her of this road.

So where does that leave yours truly? At two days ago, I was still flying high with remnants of the Brink house and our mad liaisons: Me and Brandon sampling Jamar’s nitrates, drinking beer and Mescaline tea with Joe and his goddess of a girlfriend. Times like these make me realize that my foray in the supposed “drug” culture is not a passing phase or some idiotic interlude ending in me “going straight” and swearing off all such things. I hope I die before I become nothing but a condescending tool of the machine, simple as that. Sitting, shooting the shit with good company and talking about various definitions to life and the road to hell this country is taking: this is the road the beats took, and if I have any regret in life, its that I was born in the entirely wrong era, or at the very least, at the time where sheep are grazing, except they are people and are beating eaten alive by wolves of the government and the lies of old wolves in dog’s clothing. If I am to be a man, whatever that means or entails, I’d first like to be one that believes self involvement in the interest of his state is as important as anything idiotic as my wants and lifestyle (a word here that is often recklessly thrown about to describe something indescribable). I feel more at one with the world when I’m not doing something that is sanctioned as “good” or “normal,” and as both a writer and a New Yorker, and that’s exactly the way I like it. Jamar and I partied later at Backstreet, than at Tabu, but that involved sweating and dancing with other people, and I enjoyed the earlier events of the night, despite the fact that I enjoy these times with Jamar very much.

Going through photos (after taking all of my yuri and yaoi and het and such and moving them onto CD to have more space on my computer and fall prey to SIMS), I look at me exes and potentials (read: Tara and Tamra) and I realize what beautiful women they are, spoiled sometimes by the lack of good people to appreciate them. A time ago, I did so especially for them, and now, looking at them and the way they are, I care for them a great deal. I think this occurred to me after talking and listening to Joe’s girlfriend: on the chubby side (like that means anything, but to some men it does), smart as a whip, a great conversationalist and a partaker of substances with none of the reservations or rationalizing I see in other women. I think I see her and Joe as one of those couples that last because they will go where the other will, spiritually, physically and mentally. I think, really, this is the core of a relationship.

No wonder I thought she was cool though. She reminds me of Terri.

Boredom does this to me

Fri, 12 Aug 2005 19:06:30 GMT

Taken from jurisannarielle
(x) I’ve consumed alcohol
( ) I’ve ran away from home.
(x) I have lied to my parents about where I am.
(x) I shut others out when I`m depressed.
(x) I watch the news. (occasionally)
(x) I own over 5 rap CDs.
(X) I own an iPod or MP3.
(x) I am a sucker for hair/eyes. (any eyes, really)
(x) I curse regularly.
( ) I am a sports fanatic.
( ) I own something from Abercrombie.
(x) I have a job.
(x) I like to laugh.
( ) I smoke a pack a day.
(x) I have many scars.
(x) I’ve been out of this country. (Santo Domingo, Montreal, Ottawa)
(x) I am really ticklish.
(x) I play video games.
(X) I had a serious surgery. (Broken arm counts, right?)
( ) Been in a fist fight.
( ) Been arrested
(x) Made out in an elevator.
(x) Swore at your parents. (behind their back)
(x) Kicked a guy where it hurts.
(X) Broken a bone
(x) Skipped school
(x) Played spin the bottle.
(x) Gotten stitches
(x) Bitten somebody
( ) Been to Niagara Falls
(x) Gotten the chicken pox
( ) Crashed into a friend’s car
(x) Shoplifted
(x) Had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back
(x) Lied to a friend (only for good reason or when keeping a secret)
(x) Been to USA (uh, i live there)
( ) Been to Mexico
(x) Been on a plane
(x) Eaten Sushi
( ) Been snowboarding
( ) Been Skiing
(x) Done drugs
(x) Had someone cheat on you
(x) Smoked a cigarette.
(x) Smoked a cigar
(x) Been in an abusive relationship
(x) Fallen asleep at school
( ) Felt an earthquake
(x) Touched a snake
(x) Won a contest
(x) Been suspended from school
(x) Been in a car accident
( ) Had braces
(x) Had deja vu
(x) Danced in the moonlight
(x) Been to the opposite side of the country… (I think Wisconsin counts)
(x) Cried yourself to sleep
(x) Done something you told yourself you wouldn’t
(x) Made prank phone calls
(x) Danced in the rain
(x) Had a wish come true
(x) Sang in the shower
(x) Worn the opposite sexes clothes (Black sweater… which I still have)
(x) Sat on a roof top
(x) Screamed at the top of your lungs
(x) Talked on the phone for more then 6 hours(about absolutely nothing)
(x) Stayed up all night
(x) Didn’t take a shower for a week. (I think first semester, but only once)
( ) Are scared to watch scary movies
(x) Pushed into a pool/lake with all your clothes on
(x) Laughed so hard you cried
(x) Had someone moon/flash you
(x) Forgotten someone's name
( ) French braided someone's hair (badly)
(x) Smoked a pipe. (Many, MANY times)
(x) Been in love.
(x) Been dumped… (-sniffs-)
( ) Snuck out of your parents house. (Yeah please. My parents let me go without stressing.)
(x) Love someone or miss someone
( ) Used a fake ID.
(x) Flirted with someone you didn’t really like
(x) Liked the way you look.
(x) Questioned your heart. (1,000,000,000,000 times)
( ) Mooned someone you knew.
(x) Believe in ghosts. (Ha...SO many places.)
( ) Have more than 30 pairs of shoes.
( ) Gone streaking.
( ) Gone doorbell ditching.
(x) Told you’re hot by a complete stranger
( ) Got knocked out.
(x) Failed a test.
(x) Had a relationship that lasted more than 3
months.
( ) Been threatened to be kicked out of your
house.
( ) Been kicked out of your house.
(x) Had a sibling who died that you never met.(My mom had an abortion I didn't know about...)
(x) Been Drunk.
(x) cheated on someone
(x) Dirty danced.
(x) Talked back to a teacher

Take the quiz: "Which Victoria's Secret Angel are you?"

Tyra Banks
You are easygoing, sweet, and care for others!

Usagi

Wed, 10 Aug 2005 08:42:48 GMT

Sometimes I remember the day where romance began.
It broke through tears of perversion and attraction.
The day my steps became uncertain when I came upon love's first glance.
What can be said in likes and dislikes and bubbly pop songs?
I could go on in poems, immortalized on computer paper,
But I could not beat my first fluffy one: soft to touch
eager to please. I was a little fluffy tale too.

Hell, I was Peter, wasn't I?
We sneaked away carrots and peas and green beans
giggling and wiggling our noses and running, running
stealing kisses in hidden places, but not as nice
as the day in the garden right under Mcgregor's nose.

They say we fuck like mad, but no
It wasn't like that.
Your first and mine, in shadows and laughing
not lurching and heavy breathing and sweat,
but I think I tasted lemon, bitter and smooth tasting
A little flushed and a lot innocent.
We were a little stupid too, and it was funny,
so funny to tempt with paws on each other's shoulder.
Gentle noses rubbing together
and an interruption to remember winter comes.

Just a little longer before I get raked?
Just one more day without a rabbit's foot
as another souvenir that the world is fucked up?
The foxes have come and gone
and those rabbits can't say anything anymore.
We don't run no more, we don't eat those carrots,
those green beans turned to dust in our mouths
And we've tasted the fornication of the mean touch.
It tastes like blood and unanswered dreams and
no more bunnies to come and play.

Still a day will go, and I'll remember a laugh
a chuckle, a mirthful squeal of joy
and Usagi will remain.

A pill to soothe the angst (or not, depending on your questions^-^)

Tue, 02 Aug 2005 00:27:12 GMT

I want whoever who reads this to ask me 4 questions. Any 4, no matter how dirty or random. I have to answer them honestly. In turn, you have to post this message in your own journal, and you have to answer the questions that are asked of you.

Prose "Thoughts of a Departed Friend"

Wed, 13 Jul 2005 07:11:36 GMT

If I ran to you
I remember I wanted you to do the same.
I remember laughing like a child
fleeing the man I would become
Believing the child remain.
Grass felt tender and fragile
hands felt warm and giving
hugs were refuges from the cold

I would remain chipper on my desert treks to you.
The sand would chew my soles
the winds burned my cheeks and left them raw.
I called out to you like Shasta to Avaris
The Tarqueena fleeing to find herself too.
There we lay, fair and dark
Still children, older.

I have grown and you have not.

You remain in the desert that you made into a garden.
I see the old bones in the distance
Next to a forgotten Lion.
Names I recalled and bruises I earned
all for nothing.

Yet wasn't dipping nude but yesterday?
If we were naked, it was by our volition
I was you and you were me,
I walked to you and you talked to me.
How quickly you forget.

You have grown
A weed surrounded by chokable flowers.