Saturday, February 18, 2006

names, continued

John O'Quinn

... it dawns on me... bed, with Ryan, after braving the arctic winds in Seattle... better idea than throwing contextless names into the Universe.

I wish I were Grant Morrison... no, I want to bite Grant. I want to write about my own life the way he writes about ... shit... whatever the fuck he WANTS to write about.

... Y'all... I am Grant Morrison's Bitch. Hi. Nice to meet you.

Also, LOVE Y: The Last Man !!!! It's speculative fiction and if you are a fan of Octavia E. Butler's Patternist books or Parables or even Lilith's Brood (or Xenogenesis), you might want to give a look-see. And please read _Fledgling_ in the hopes that she wants to make it epic and share something really amazing with us. I could use a bit of amazing. How about you?

My cats and my peeps are happy. Soon, perhaps, my man and I will be happy, too.

... it really does feel different when you are seized by a beautiful man who kisses you with passionate aplomb and you know you are with the person who makes you happy. Yeah, I still wonder, sometimes, if he will always make me happy, but some things... you have to put on faith... the faith of your heart and gut to lead you in ways your mind doesn't understand. But perhaps I should never understand Ryan the way I "understand" me... it means... there's still hope for me yet in my own thwarted effort to love unconditionally... damning all those with Venus in Pisces all the way who are probably wondering why they are being blamed since they are all fucking doormats.


I have a busy day tomorrow. I should really meet it with sleep.

*nuzzles to anyone reading*

Quentin Ergane


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