every inch but one

Feel free to skip this and just read the link at the bottom, but do read it.

I have a terror of those survivalist bootcamp things that folks send "delinquent" kids to. I'm not sure why really. For all the drama that can be said to have been in my childhood, none of it looked like that. But I suppose I know that in another time and place, it could have just as easily been me, and I suppose I often forget how old I am now.

It is not the sort of thing I can read about without feeling physically ill. And it always makes me think of V for Vendetta (the graphic novel), the boy who introduced me to it, his sister with all the ear piercings, and their mother, who beat the girl's head against the ceramic sink in their house when she dyed her hair blue, lest she be queer like her brother.

I remmeber ghosts in their house, and the ways in which the brother was cruel to me. One night he stuffed socks into my mouth, held a spork to my face, and threatened to gouge my eyes out if I didn't stop grinding my teeth in my sleep. I was tired, and I went back to it; this is the nature of college.

I remember that one inch.

I am lucky, but I am not, for whatever reason, distant from this. Neither should you be too.

http://samiblackmire.livejournal.com/1202827.html

retail therapy

http://www.chinatowner.com/storefront/listproducts.aspx?idProduct=2823 (prolly navy blue, maybe the red. Not the black)

or

http://www.chinatowner.com/storefront/listproducts.aspx?idProduct=2868 (black)

or

http://www.chinatowner.com/storefront/listproducts.aspx?idProduct=2518 (definitely black)

?

sundries

- Everytime I got into Chipolte and there is cheesetastic music playing I say to myself, "chaeche could make a really cool Snarry vid to this."

- Speaking of Chipolte, they need to improve their listening skills. Everyday I say, "Bowl to go, no beans." Every day they respond, "black or pinto?"

- The people on the second floor here are always taking the elevator to the fourth floor. It makes me crazy. Today a dude got on to do that, and he smelt like pickles. I had low impulse control and told him so. Most awkward 20 seconds of my life followed, I'll tell you that.

- In other complaint news. There seem to be less GF products at Whole Foods lately, and they aren't segregating them appropriately.

- I always walk around the city singing. For whatever reason I've been really working out the upper ranges of my headvoice lately. I'll never do anything with it, but it feels nice.

- Today is another post office day. After this letter, I start writing to Patty's second location, which makes it seem as if time is passing quickly. Except for the part where it isn't. At all.

- novel_in_90, web deisgn and my fandom homework (snapenews) await me when I get home.

- I have a disease. It's called celiac, not homosexuality. http://www.cnn.com/2007/POLITICS/06/06/surgeon.general.gays.ap/index.html
I hate all this shit.

- Does anyone else get a slow, creeping, paranoid feeling reading all these articles about passport chaos? http://www.nytimes.com/2007/06/07/washington/07passport.html

(no subject)

Survive the post office. Survive the trains. Got home to high drama.

There's a crowd of people in front of the building next to mine. There's a kid clambering up and down the fire escape, a woman running in and out of hte building, and cops. As far as I can make out from the Spanish, the gesticulating and the general dismay some sort of domestic had transpired, the cops had shown up, the man involved has some warrant for something else, teh woman involved doesn't want to let the cops into the apartment, the kid is showing the cops how to get in through the fire escape/window, the neighbors are pissed that the kid is letting the cops into the building and don't understand why there aren't window guards and the kid, agent of his own escape, such as it is, might be removed from the home.

At least it wasn't my building this time.

Hi.

oh, LJ, you have got to be joking me.

I got to www.livejournal.com while I'm logged in to see if news has been updated. It hasn't, but there's abomination of a control panel thing showing recent comments in my posts, actions on my friends list, etc. Which is all fine, except for the really gross part at the top featuring prompts for journal entries.

Just a few for your consideration:

"What are your favorite and least favorite words? Any reasons why?"

"What's the best birthday present you ever received?"

"How would you describe the face whitaker is making in his userpic?"


Dear LJ,

FUCK YOU. I am here to write about my day, my surly city, media and my relationship with it, the woman I adore currently on a sojourn in Cyprus, my friends, my creative work, my intolerable allergies, politics, AND WHATEVER STRIKES MY DAMN FANCY. And guess what, what's what I want to read about too. Hell, I'd rather wite about writer's block and read about writer's block than have anyone ever take your little questions that encourage faux discourse about noting at all. This would merely be a lame corporate moment if it weren't for your total sucktacularness in the last week. I mean really. You have got to be fucking joking.

http://community.livejournal.com/feedback/12799.html?thread=1847807#t1847807

novel in 90

For those of you following along at home:

7,501 / 67,500 (11.1%)

Also, I am starting to close in on a working title.