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Then it is a good day.
Mar. 9th, 2003 06:06 pmYou can totally, totally see me in the crowd during the December 13th, 2002 episode of TRL with Justin. Yeah, baby!
Word to my girl, Bonnie. Thanks for the (concerned) phone calls sweets, I'll be home soon, promise.
Finished a scrapbook. Yes, you heard that correctly, yours truly actually finished something. It's damn fucking cool, too, though I probably need to read more men's magazines for future reference.
During aforementioned activities, I found my printed copy of Tiffany Rawlins' Save Yourself. Still the best short story I've ever read and now four for four in having me in tears by the halfway point. Everyone should read this story, it's just that amazing that there's no overstating it. Beautiful and heartrending and just magic, the whole thing.
In other writing news, my own poetry makes me shudder. I think I've pegged the problem as immature honesty, like I'm trying to do justice to something bigger than myself and sometimes the English language. It could be a defense mechanism because I'm getting into something too raw, but I don't know. I think this might be why I like short prose so much - not only do I get more words to say what I mean, but other people to play it out through. Deal with it in their ways, which somehow comes off better than my own clumsiness.
Packing packing packing and my god I've got a lot of crap. Carrying it down solo isn't something I'm thinking too hard about right now.
Speaking of doing things solo, read over the liner notes for Justified during a lull in the productive action this afternoon. The goober isn't to be believed in his sweetness.
Just got off the phone with the mom. Surprise foiled. But talking to her was good, and telling her about all the things to come in July somehow made all of that real in a new way. I mean, the girls coming down for Challenge! Justripped/Striptified and Isi and our floor seals, too! The best kind of madness, I tell you.
Too much TRL rots your brain, kids. Le grande sap, signing off.
Word to my girl, Bonnie. Thanks for the (concerned) phone calls sweets, I'll be home soon, promise.
Finished a scrapbook. Yes, you heard that correctly, yours truly actually finished something. It's damn fucking cool, too, though I probably need to read more men's magazines for future reference.
During aforementioned activities, I found my printed copy of Tiffany Rawlins' Save Yourself. Still the best short story I've ever read and now four for four in having me in tears by the halfway point. Everyone should read this story, it's just that amazing that there's no overstating it. Beautiful and heartrending and just magic, the whole thing.
In other writing news, my own poetry makes me shudder. I think I've pegged the problem as immature honesty, like I'm trying to do justice to something bigger than myself and sometimes the English language. It could be a defense mechanism because I'm getting into something too raw, but I don't know. I think this might be why I like short prose so much - not only do I get more words to say what I mean, but other people to play it out through. Deal with it in their ways, which somehow comes off better than my own clumsiness.
Packing packing packing and my god I've got a lot of crap. Carrying it down solo isn't something I'm thinking too hard about right now.
Speaking of doing things solo, read over the liner notes for Justified during a lull in the productive action this afternoon. The goober isn't to be believed in his sweetness.
Just got off the phone with the mom. Surprise foiled. But talking to her was good, and telling her about all the things to come in July somehow made all of that real in a new way. I mean, the girls coming down for Challenge! Justripped/Striptified and Isi and our floor seals, too! The best kind of madness, I tell you.
Too much TRL rots your brain, kids. Le grande sap, signing off.
