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Mar. 3rd, 2008 | 05:25 pm

god i wish i smoked cigarettes

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the end of a houndstooth era

Feb. 12th, 2008 | 12:40 am
location: Apt F
mood: draineddrained
music: Ani

my shoes wore through today. i bought those shoes when i first, first got to towson. now, they are marked with three years of wear, tear, and otherwise abuse. i don't think i will be ok with just throwing them out. i love those shoes. i can't afford new ones. the idea of throwing them out is like giving up a piece of me... or a piece of my history.

today was a doozy. stacey cheered me up. which i needed and appreciated - esp after his poor day. i was tired and grumpy at work... and didn't concentrate well. i am getting burned out at work. i don't function well in such a detail oriented position. i always get down when i feel i am just running the motions.

i got to talk to boy tonight. i'm falling for him. i'm almost not scared at all :). a wise heart is an experienced one, after all. i asked him to be my valentines, and in my 3rd grade moment of glory we giggled and he said yes.

the conference was fun. nothing particularly new. i am going to do two presentations next year. it is a goal. i get so few of these that actually inspire me that i am rather excited by this idea.

i have a presentation coming up that i am not in any way prepared for. i am thinking about dropping my one class... in fact, writing this, i think i will do just that. (maybe not, lol)

scratch what i said before. i already know i love him. i wanted to say it this week, but was scared. i love him. yes, i do.

i needed to core dump. ugh, what a day. and tomorrow will be beyond imagining with the sleep i will be picking up... so it goes.

i really love therapy. counseling. i could do that for a few years, assuming i get the education to deliver such things. even so, there are other helping avenues. i am hating school right now. i am really hating it. i had fantasies about dropping out all day. part fueled by my grump, part fueled by my urge to matriculate. now is not the time for such decisions...

i think rather then continue this dump, i will try the arguably healthier alternative - sleep.

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(no subject)

Jan. 22nd, 2008 | 02:18 am

so it goes.

white-hot, i turn my head. blinking, open, and willing.

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and the doors shall open for him...

Nov. 25th, 2007 | 10:36 pm
location: home
mood: gratefulgrateful
music: when the night...

It's a funny thing to look back at your life and see how you have changed. So much. To flick your eyes up to the great rear-view mirror of experience and painfully, joyfully see yourself smeared on time like an ever speeding slug trail.

I never in a million years saw myself here. Never. So funny the choices I have made. I never expected to become domestic, so tranquil with the mundane. Friends no longer feel like they used to. They drift: life paths, slug paths crossing here and there. Family feels different now too. I guess what I'm experiencing is the weight of my own mortality... my youthful outlook tempered by my knowledge.

I have spent too much time trading one thing for another; trading risk for comfortability. I don't want to be a desperate anything. A year is a short time. Eight more and I will no longer be young. Not in a tragic noxema commercial sense. It has been very easy for me to let life happen to me, instead of make my life happen.

I have found some unexpected friendships that have really boosted me as a person and a soul. I am lucky and glad to have found these people. I guess this trip home for thanksgiving made me feel... urgent. I don't have forever.

I was never a game player. I am too naive and too simple with my feelings to do them. It hurts when games are the better choice... I never know what to do. Substitution, fragmentation... pits of a pained self, healing as I go. The more in touch with my feelings I get, the more introverted I have become. It has been... a relief, to say the least.

Looking for love in all the wrong places: I have started to open my eyes.

I suppose this is an odd place for me to be in. It is easier to push yourself when you like someone. Much harder when it's just you. Growth?

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confessional at 6pm

Sep. 21st, 2007 | 09:04 pm
location: home
mood: cheerfulcheerful
music: kevin devine - you are my sunshine

soooo, i don't post much. only when something big happens....

I'm really proud of myself. i told someone i had strong feelings for about it today. it went well... a little too well... but i told em. now the post-telling-you-i-like-you flirting... not sure what to read there? but it's not like i wont see em soon enough. I'll figure it out.

"ill always love you
and make you happy
if you could only say the same
but if you leave me
to love another
well you'll regret it all someday"

just kidding?

other news: life is good, perspective is good. some flaky friends, but then could i ever claim better? karma! Mikey is "17" (shh!) tonight, yay!

"you told me once dear
that you really loved me
and no one else could come between
well now you've left me and you love another
you have shattered all of my dreams"

lets hope not.

got free tickets to the renn fest, WOO!!

"please don't take my sunshine away"


thats about it i think. seeing people, working, loving people, telling people about it, so it goes.

fuck maryland and their ruling. I'm not pressed on marriage, at ALL. in fact it bothers me some. buuuuut, equality starts somewhere... just not in maryland.

there is no fear in saying "i love you", it is the most natural thing in the world. the fear surrounding that word comes from the hurt we accrue in our lives, the walls hurt erects, and the fear of being alone... behind our walls

writing this fucking article and app... fuck that!! my attention just gets worse, haha, here i come nigeria!! :)

life is good. life trucks along. life is good.

welcome jazmine!!

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flames to dust

Aug. 13th, 2007 | 04:29 am
mood: moodymoody

queer camp. "week off." beach.

three weeks of my life... very intense.

i came out to my grandfather officially, even though we all know we all know, my family has does not talk about their little faggot. so i blurted it out in the car with my grandfather and he was the easiest come out i had, i think... i found out later he was nervous to have the conversation that he knew was coming and was avoiding it a little. cute.

that just leaves granny, then the checklist is done: "HELLLLLLLLLO WORLD, I'M A BIG OL' QUEER!!"

i can tell days when i take my medicine and not. little nervous of the idea of popping speed everyday... i don't want to take these pills longer then i have to.

who knows about school? i sure don't. le sigh.

i've been wanting to try more writing. i've got enough damn material for the book. my advisor wants to publish my writing... i've decided to do it. funny, i never wrote anything when i was younger at all.

Russia next fall... maybe... would be amazing... running around on a bus doing activist work, in Russia... it's the mothership calling.

I think i need to see a doc, my digestive system has been weird recently.

i am also thinking that more attention should be paid to the urban housing markets in the midst of the current mortgage crisis.

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Jul. 9th, 2007 | 10:36 pm

im bored. entertainment is lacking. i want a car. (one may be coming...).

i feel like this post is more obligatory then voluntary. i work, i play. period. miss some old friends, making some new ones... blah blah. haha, not cynical i swear, just bored. moving out made me appreciate people so much more. moving in made me blink.

reading has taken my fancy again, this is good. enjoying the finer side of life (sarcasm if you know me). my "boss" gave me gay erotica today... interesting. i like that i am calmed down. id rather watch other people look stupid and funny. not cynical i swear :).

just ate a baked potato the way i like it yum.

yeah... obligatory...

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two days til new apt...

Jun. 11th, 2007 | 03:48 am

so if you can help two faggots move, let a kid know!!

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a friend's reflection on the topic of "Towson Gays"... amazing

May. 23rd, 2007 | 11:53 pm

yeah, they tend to not be the most self-respecting... they're uber butch yet closeted with more issues than someone on a jerry springer ep, or out to the point that they're faces are so shiny and glittery i was once blinded

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Flowing Air

May. 12th, 2007 | 05:35 am
mood: indifferentindifferent

I crave a smell. Ironic since chronic infections left my olfactory bulb near useless in my teens. I crave the smell of musk; the smell of sweat and moist lips. I want so much to breathe in the trust and vulnerable tang of a lover I don't have and exhale a blanket of tired eyes and soft kisses.

One day a lover of mine told me I would always be safe with him. I always knew that was a lie. His words were sincere, his heart bursting with naivety. I always knew I could never be safe with him in my arms.

I pull him closer, push my chest out, suck in the air and I find him. A brush of hay across my membrane, the indication of the cheap male-marketed soap his parents bought and placed in his shower. The first day I met his parents I recall the smell of their boat I helped him clean. Acrid, like a warm puddle left too long in the sun. This contrasts well with the burnt-cookie smell of his father's disappointment when he flicks his eyes upon his son's lover. That night, as mosquitoes dig our flesh the summer seeps hints of rain tomorrow, the air is heavy and wet in my lungs. I kiss him. I am safe here, in his arms. Days later, wet grass and greedy spit burn my nose as he fucks me for the first time. It was too soon. I open my eyes and exhale my fear. There, in his arms, his words reek of bitter irony. I was too scared, we were both too hurt.

My lover smelled of hay and soap.

One day a lover of mine told me I was amazing, that I was going somewhere. I always knew that was a lie. His words were revering, his heart blinding. I always knew I would never go places with him.

I listen to him deliver what I think at the time is the greatest and most powerful speech I have ever heard. I become a cavity for his strength and conviction, filling me with every breath. We eye, I pursue. After the bitter coffee burps pass my nostrils during our first date, we part exuding giddy bubble-gum lip gloss from our lovestruck eyes. My first conversation with another couple pounds like an assault of Irish cream and beer against my nose. The generic, processed lube and rubber filled vapor from the condoms thrown at us make me feel cheap, unreal. I hold this against him. The police man's attractive cologne teases me as he takes my information and handcuffs me, third date. That night, our first time, we exude green vapor, unsure, proud of what we think we should know about each other's bodies. I smell defeat before I give it a chance.

My lover smells like success and defeat.

One day a lover of mine told me I was silly, he called me boo. I always knew that was a lie. His words were new, his heart beating for love. I always knew he would break my heart.

I struggle over the smell of beer and my own adrenaline. A boy was coming over. He smells like a life I never bought into, but would have invested assets for the chance to touch him. Confidence oozes over him, reminding me of the sharp metallic presence in the air after a lightning strike. I am lost at the first drop of his ping-pong ball in the plastic, disposable cup. Beer splashes up and hits my face, warning me to keep my innocence, to keep my heart whole. The blood rushing through my brain brings endorphine after endorphine to every neuron, drawing out courage and an erection. The alcohol's sharp burn reminds me where my confidence hails from. After I herd guests out the door the smell of my roommate's blanket reminds me of my grandmother's aging body as we fondle for each other's cocks. I wake up in the morning with a man in my bed and a smile on my face. I should have smelled the coffee, known I would never again allow the sweet aroma of an open heart and the overpowering fumes of lust occupy the same space. Fate teaches me hard, and teaches me well.

My lover smells like lessons of lust.

One day a lover of mine told me I was lonely, and he called me foolish. I always knew that was true. His words were clear, his voice direct. I always knew he would chuckle at my insecurities.

I struggle now with the petrochemical smell of lube as I pretend to find love in my left hand. The sweet brush of imagined hay and soap, of anything innocent and lovely tease me while I pump. I can pretend to be back on a boat, or a hair salon, or even a car; the dusty state of my memories making my nose jump and twitter - I have allergies you know. As I pass people walking I catch, for a sliver of time, a smell hinting at a real moment by the lake, free of fear. Scents unimagined, leading to roads never taken. The smell of alone, of cold, sterile alone threads through my sinuses, down my windpipe, filling each crevice of my lung as I come into the air. High, arching white blobs of wasted human heart splatter my chest, alluding to the caress I so desire and miss.

My lover smells like the pillow I sleep with every night.

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