|Friday, August 23rd, 2002|
Kentucky. Strong accents. A delivery truck carrying pigeons and chickens with the logo, "If it ain't klukin', we ain't trukin'". Sweet Jesus. What have I gotten myself into? I told someone I was from NYC. She responded, "Wooooow!" Yes, I know, amazing, isn't? A city bigger than the great Cincinatti. I contacted the GSU equivalent down here. Their response: "Most people remain closeted down here. We have no idea why." Uh huh. Me neither. I heard a few old people refer to a het couple scandalously as "live-in friends." It's like a whole new world out here. I'm staring around disbelievingly, mouth agape, sort of like I've seen people look up at skyscrapers...
|Thursday, August 1st, 2002|
|Tuesday, June 25th, 2002|
i have a headache and a dentist appt today. i hate today. i don't mind the dentist appt- i really do need one, but i'm worried that he'll take one look and say, 'jesus christ, what the hell have you got in there??' plus, i don't like visiting dentists now when i anticipate future dentist appts and getting kissed a lot in the office...
|Sunday, May 12th, 2002|
christ, i need a shower.
i'm done with this place, bwahaha!
susie, in answer to your query, i am indeed staying in ny this summer. in fact, sadly, i'm moving in with my parents for the next two years. i'm getting a masters at fordham, but i can't afford anything else.
|Thursday, April 25th, 2002|
ha, motherfucker! someone's dumb enough to pay me to go to grad school!
|Friday, April 12th, 2002|
|Sunday, February 17th, 2002|
she's soft, she's beautiful, she's loving, she's tender, she's way, way, way more than i deserve.
|Friday, February 15th, 2002|
|updating for susie
i am updating for susie. i hate thomas becket. he should die. again. there.
|Saturday, November 3rd, 2001|
Blech. I'm at work. I have so much to get done. It's all going to BE done in 45 days. that strikes me as inconceivable. i hope that word doesn't mean what i think it means.
|Sunday, October 28th, 2001|
I keep wanting to say that lesbians suck, but that's the good thing about lesbians. I just hate women.
|playing with pick-axes and tnt
My life is a farce. When did this happen? Maybe I can pin it on Lesley. I wasn't very open or forthcoming with her, but at least I tried to be NICE. Hasn't happened since. Maybe it has more to do with realizing the horrible person that I could be three days after we broke up. That was probably the lowest thing I ever did. Since then, it's been like little repeats of that again and again. I play with people. I don't think I used to. Or maybe I did and just didn't realize it. I think I should go into therapy. Think of the great File Heading: MAK resident lesbian playa. Last night was ridiculously stressful, a hell of a lot of work. I felt like I was running around all night. Because, well, I was. My roomies were getting a fucking kick out of it, too. Watching me run from one room to another. So it's not my imagination. Susie was only here for two nights, but she saw that something whack-ass is going on here. The whole evening had a definite surreal quality to it. I should just dive into my work and not come out till May. Become celibate. Or perhaps start dating my "heterosexual boyfriend."
So, no more pick-axes this time. My integrity just imploded/exploded (take your pick-- I suppose it would be more disastrous to other peole (which indeed it is!! My roomies were attempting to gage the destructive capacity of the whole situation, and were dumbfounded) if it exploded, rather than imploded.) It made a giant fucking BA-BOOM whatever it did.
|Wednesday, October 24th, 2001|
i am out of control. i'm hitting on every lesbian i see.
|Sunday, October 21st, 2001|
|Wednesday, October 10th, 2001|
Wow. I'd never realized how big my ego is.
|Monday, October 1st, 2001|
Ouch. Just ouch. I just want a break, even though I have no right to complain. I just want to be able to say that I've made a connection with another human being, that I'm capable of getting close to someone. But it takes so goddamn much. I don't have what it takes, and I don't want to try. I just want it to happen. But it doesn't.
I found St. Andrews sand in my jacket pocket. It's not my fault I was born here. I'm sorry.
Ooouuuuch. Maybe I should go back to not feeling anything, because this hurts.
|Friday, September 28th, 2001|
I'm going to do something stupid soon. I can feel it. I'm like a giant time bomb. Kablooie.
|Thursday, September 27th, 2001|
You ever look back on a part of your life and think, "Just what the HELL was I thinking!?" Shudder.
|Saturday, September 22nd, 2001|
I want to go dancing. Which is ironic because I suck at it and refuse to do it in public unless very, very drunk. I also wouldn't mind being in a crowd of more than one and very, very drunk. I'm neither at the moment. Just me and Tudor-Stuart England. I'm a pathetic, poor excuse for a college student. At least I'm not getting any work done. I want to go running. SOMETHING I also wouldn't mind getting laid. Hope I don't do something stupid and typically me sometime soon. I think I hope that. I'm none too sure. Anyone in my way: WATCH OUT-- YOU'RE IN DANGER
|Monday, September 10th, 2001|
Took a walk last night through the campus, tried to commune with life'n'shit: the balmy weather, the rather rancid smell of the "stream"/swamp, and the buzzing of lots of insectoids. Kiss my ass, Nature.