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December 15th, 2004
03:40 pm - At the Burlington Coat Factory...
I lost my coat. I was at the Burlington Coat Factory on 83rd and Cicero and had taken my coat off to try on another coat and was thinking about Eleanor, my next door neighbor who is real old now and who fell out of her bed. She bruised up her arm and shoulder pretty good. My mother said she couldn't tell whether Eleanor had suffered a concussion or not because her pupils were already one larger than the other and she has cataracts, I'm pretty sure. Well, I've know Eleanor since I was a little baby, and I know she has Emphysema, is suffering, and will being dying soon. It is very sad. I just kept thinking about what my mother said about her falling. "Well, even if she needed to go to the hospital, she wouldn't." It was spinning in my head as I tried one coat on after the other. "Why wouldn't she go to the hospital when she knows she should? Why not? Why not? Why?"
I turned around in a sea of five-hundred coats and my original coat was gone. I looked everywhere. "Have you seen a camoflauge green army jacket?" I said to the girl, the maintenance, the other girl, the girl the other girl was talking to, anyone with a nametag and a headset.
I called the next day and asked if they had found my coat, and they made me describe it all over again and asked each other in muffled voices while I stayed on the line and said no, they hadn't seen it.
Why would somebody take my run-down ass coat with no wallet in it, no bus card, no nothing except a pair of glasses and some lip balm?
It's nothing but a major inconvenience, really.
They took down my information and never called me. I assume that's the end of it.
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December 8th, 2004
10:51 am - Save the children
Just paid a dollar for a very thin slice of mint cake at a table full of Xmas cards that children made. I know it's for a charity, but I didn't have time to ask what charity. I kind of like that it's a mystery charity, though. And the kid's Xmas card I got to pick out is way sweet - it's all metallic paper - metallic blue snow clouds to match the metallic blue snoman with fat metallic silver sharpie snow. On the inside, a metallic green tree with 1 metallic gold, 1 metallic silver, 1 metallic blue, and 3 red shiny electric tape presents. In fat silver sharpie it says "Merry Christmas" and then in green sniffy marker it says "to all". Then there are two metallic purple stipes glued across and then in fat silver sharpie, "from: Adonis M." The cakes and cards are on the eighth floor in the 624 Bldg. at school, which for me is CCC, if you go.
This was right after I got paid $25 for sitting 30 minutes through a photo shoot that I guess was for the annual report for the school. They pulled me out of work at the lab and said, "Good, now we need an African-American male." Which they eventually found. We stood and stood, and flashes went and everything looked blue, and all that standing I'm sure my little miniature vericose vein was a bit aggravated about the whole thing. But the cash made everything all right.
Your fortune:
1/25th of your hard-earned dollar could go to any mystery charity of your choice.
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December 2nd, 2004
04:49 pm - Yeah yeah yeah do it DO IT!
(A)recommend to me:
1. a movie:
2. a book:
3. a musical artist, song, or album
(B) three questions, no more, no less. Ask me anything you want.
(C) copy and paste this allowing your friends to ask you anything (if you so desire)
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December 1st, 2004
10:17 am - In Response to I Heart James's Indication of Poor Writing
1.) A character is introduced at the end to tie everything up.
2.) The thing reads like a synopsis or a journal entry rather than an actual story.
3.) The main character is some kind of way cool hero that we're all supposed to like wanna peg or something and be his biggest fan, but we can't because it's so obnoxious to have to listen to somebody like that tell any story or really say anything ever whatsoever.
4.) The story is "gritty" and "urbane" and that's what's so unique about it.
5.) The alternate reality that has been created is not established enough and has holes.
6.) Everything is a poem and nothing is grounded in reality and the reader suffers through metaphor after metaphor.
7.) You already know what's going to happen.
8.) Preachy.
9.) Pretentious.
10.) If the scene has to do with the character "being the only guy in the room" or "being the only white girl in the room". Maybe it's a personal thing, but I just don't care, I'm not invested in it. Probably because it's not that thrilling to be the only anything.
11.) You don't know where these people are or who these people are or what they're doing or what's happening in the story until page 7.
12.) Gratuitous sex scenes, bathroom humor, violence.
13.) Characters are flat with no facets to their personality.
14.) Girl in a mental institution stories where the patient is a girl who is really pretty and she's all cut up and she's hip with a suave attitude and she's our glamorized mental patient hero.
15.) Story starts out really good, and then becomes this rushed and detached thing toward the end because you had to finish it ten minutes before class.
16.) Everyone in the story is like this awesome good-looking person who is just so awesomen and good-looking that the story doesn't even really matter.
17.) Dialogue that is trying so hard to be natural that it comes off doubly unnatural.
18.) Ranting with no periods in the sentences because it's easier to write a dramatic scene that way than like, think about it.
19.) Style over substance.
20.) When the overall storyteller explains him/herself: "Not that there's anything wrong with that," or "No offense to Polaks" or whatever, to save some sort of face.
Okay, I'm tired now, I'm thinking of all the stories I had to read through these past few months that were so very like this, including my own. Throw out some more, we can commiserate.
Current Mood: canned peaches
Current Music: The beating of my heart
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November 30th, 2004
02:19 pm - My dream this morning
I was getting married. I was in the center of the room and my veil went in all directions and was nailed all sides to the walls. I couldn't move or turn or anything.
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12:24 pm - I roll over hearts like an eighteen wheeler
Seriously, I'm a fucking insensitive prig.
I don't even know why.
I just see it in my girl's face, like I'm really pissing her off/hurting her feelings, and I don't even know what I do.
She gives me so much attention, and she's super good and nice to me, but something is off, I can see it, I'm doing something rotten and it's probably just existing.
Okay, so I'm insensitive as well as neurotic and self-effacing.
I love her. You know how like when someone's tits are so big that you don't even know what to do with them? My love for her is so big that I don't even know what to do with it.
I should hand her off to someone more deep who has like access to feelings and things.
Fuck!
Or maybe all of this is okay?
Current Mood: in need of a slap
Current Music: whizz-whirring from the central CPU at work
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November 28th, 2004
07:18 pm - The incident -
My clit stopped working the other day.
I would touch it and it was like I was an FGM victim or a burn victim or one of those victims.
It was like ghost clit. You know how when people lose their arm but they can still feel it? It was the other way around for me, like my clit was still there, but I felt like the compact mirror was reflecting an optical illusion.
I went to fuck my girlfriend and it was about as arousing as tree bark.
I was so pissed, because I really wanted to be a dirty bitchslut with her.
I know for a fact it's because I was dealing with grown-ups (if you don't know what grown-ups are, they are people disguised as adults. Grown-ups are best defined as a cult against most things, superconservative, and every ignorant comment they make is passed off as sense. It is very them/us).
I know, a bunch of stupid grown-ups gave me a clit malfunction.
Talk about psychosomatic.
For me, I think it was this:
People are set in their ways. They have no room for others. Step aside, they have important matters to take care of, like business deals and enemas and viagra and listening to themselves talk. They don't want to understand YOU.
It would be much more appreciated if you stopped eating pussy, just stop it, just stop.
Stop eating it, even if you have a cock, just stop eating it. That's kinky. Just stop. No more pussy for you.
You're an oddity. They suggest that you should read books that analyze queers so that you can understand yourself better. They think you are going through a phase. They think you're too pretty to give better orgasms than most husbands.
They make you want to hatefuck them so that they will know exactly how much fun you're having without them. They make you want to mail tapes to them of you and your girlfriend so you can show how much better your sex life is than like, theirs.
But none of that happened. My clit just simply walked out the door, because I subjected her to grown-ups and she just didn't feel like dealing with my bullshit for the rest of the day.
And I don't blame her.
But she came back to me.
We had a difference of opinion on what was important to sit through and listen to, and now I see things her way.
I told her I was sorry and I would never put her through that again, and she came back.
Current Mood: overexposure
Current Music: pink - last to know
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