Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Mmmmm, ok

So, I am watching The 750-Pound Man on TLC. This guy is like HUGE. He has been checked into a rehab for severely obese people, right? Here's what gets me, this is why I am writing: How are the nurses and stuff gonna bitch about his eating snacks when this mothafucka can't even roll out of his bed? He can't even ROLL ONTO HIS BACK!

I don't understand it. The nurses have to give him his food because he cannot go and get it himself so why are they giving him these bad foods they KNOW he shouldn't be eating and then complaining about it? Is there something I am missing?

Maybe, the lesson here is: Quentin should NOT be a nurse.


In other news, Rye and I have been pretty sick with influenza B -- or at least that is what Rye's doctor said. MY doctor, without looking, said it was oral gonorrhea.

*flat look*

I am trying to figure out what I am going to do about that asap.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Vagioplasty Redux


My friend, Yami, having thought some more about vagioplasty decided to do a research project on them. What she found is not for the faint of heart and should not be viewed at work as they are not work-safe. What she found, she said, changed her position in regards to this topic.

At the time being, Yami requests that everyone readjusts their *um* ... Um, I don't know (seriously, I feel my positioning changing... it is very odd. It makes me realize that perhaps... PERHAPS... I was too quick thinking it had anything to do with what men find desireable, but, as Yami says, "

... y'all... I don't know if I can type that...



Yami thinks looking at this picture helps re-orient the senses.


It dawns on me that another way of thinking about this is to consider that we *do* live in a culture where every woman is "beautiful" down there and so... that's something new to labor under. Not to have what is considered "beautiful" genitalia must be a horrible burden.

Now, my position here is as someone who is not only a feminist, but someone who has sat in circles of lesbian and bi women talking about how ugly they find dicks and even guys talking about how ugly they find dicks. You know what? MOST people, if asked, would tell you they think dicks are ugly and vaginas are beautiful. However, as a person who has seen many an ugly dick and who understands that to most people what is beautiful about a dick is its rigidity and size (and generally not in that order), not what it actually *looks* like.

Where are the doctors offering phalloplasty?

I am sure they exist, AND that is not my point. My point is that there is something underpining this idea of "beauty" (The "after" shots made me feel sad. Something safe for the picture frame indeed...)and makes it really... harmful and indicative of deeper, troubling issues. The lesson I am reminded of is how something is called "beautiful" sometimes means there's another hurdle to cross... especially if what you have you don't consider beautiful.

Or a majority does not consider beautiful.

And it's a damn shame.

If you only knew some of the UGLY penises I have seen in my life! *WHEW*

Monday, March 20, 2006

Comic La-La Land

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- Mister Miracle 4: Forever Flavored Man written by Grant Morrison, art by Freddie E. Williams II

I am posting this image because, gotdamnit, I am gonna force fed some culture into this community.

That picture up there is nominated for a Glyph.

I don't claim to be the most hardcore comic person or anything... I have a thing for Grant Morisson is all. My partner is more into graphic novels... but... damn -- wouldyalookatthat?.

Did anyone read that comic and sit back and went, "Damn."?


Currently, I am having a Kali-ma movement of these proportions:

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- Bulleteer 4: Bad Girls, written by Grant Morrison, art by Yanick Paquette

So, I am really into Seven Soldiers written by Grant Morrison with different artists, inkers, etc. ("of Victory" is part of the trade comic, but the comic books only have "Seven Soldiers"). Anyway, Ryan caught us up the other day -- I wanted to share with you all, but I have been mired in a project on the real life side that I call: "The Stop Lying to Yourself about Others" campaign. It includes necessary cleaning. You'd think, being as old as I am, I would not tremble before the challenge of making myself plain. But... I do. I am not the people pleaser I was/could be, but I can't shake wanting to be liked sometimes... even by people I know are unrepentant jerkfaces.

But enough is enough is enough is enough, eh?

I don't think enough people listen to Sweet Honey in the Rock.

Listening on my iPod the other day I heard:

"some people wear their smile
like a disguise
those people who smile a lot
watch the eyes
i know it 'cuz i'm like that a lot
you think everything's okay
and it is...
'til it's not."

- Ani DiFranco, "Outta Me, Onto You" Dilate

I think I confuse people all the time in this regard. I can be a smiley sonishdaughter of a buscuit-eater. I smile easy and long. I communicate a lot through my smile. Sometimes, I communicate permissions I do not intend. Because it is not ok, and I stop smiling, people become terrified.

I swear, there are some days when, no matter what, you are just going to be big and B/black and there's nothing you or anyone else can do about it and, you know what? That's ok.

I had a very spiritual Sunday although I didn't make the Q-POC meeting. I had a conversation with myself about that and decided it is because I don't feel feel "in" right now... and that might actually be ok. My lessons are going to be different. Besides, I have done enough things this weekend -- this weekend in the month I am supposed to observe.

So, I have released people from friendships and plan for a few more... just to be real and authentic in my other journal on livejournal where I tend to like to make my unfiltered mish-mash of posts... one of the lessons I learned from my Return was how to end things peacefully and with grace and met with a full heart and no bitterness.

"i'm a pixie
i'm a paperdoll
i'm a cartoon
i'm a chipper cheerful free for all
and i light up a room
i'm the color me happy girl
miss live and let live
and when they're out for blood
i always give"

- "Pixie" Ani DiFranco, Little Plastic Castles

Except, I am not that girl anymore, not quite. Somehow, I have managed to keep the paperdoll, the cartoon, but lose the "chipper cheerful free-for-all" and disarm people with the luxury I have in being able to be myself. The privilege of it -- something no one can take from me and no one should WANT from me. (Not that decentcy matters, really.) I look to bring light to darkness now... bless my gothish heart. And I am not giving blood anymore. (not that those fuckers really want it anyway)

I played nice, though. Why? Because I knew I had it in me to do so. It is nice when you can rely on yourself to do things without delivering a curse-out where, in the past, one should have occurred. However, I do find, as I get older, white people, especially gay white men, are just scared of me.

Which is just as well.

Some of them NEED to be scared of me.

Some PEOPLE need to be scared of me.

... I should stop trying to recreate myself in miniature.

I'll wise up one day, I figure.


Quentin Ergane

Thursday, March 16, 2006

March, the beginning

Originally uploaded by kyooverse.
So, I have pictures here for this month and other pictures. I don't use my flickr account as much as I should, but I think that might be changing. So, I had the "day" from hell where I practiced more letting go only to realize that some of my "friendships" here suffer because of proximity -- I don't live within walking distance and everyone is too lazy. Somehow, however, it is my fault. Isn't it always like that?

Anyway, check out the pics, comment if you are so inclined.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006


So I am watching Big Love (I'll link and shit later), and I am looking over my current life right now. The two, perhaps, should not be allowed together.

Anyway, in my real life, I have enacted a strict "Real and not Real" relationship dispersals. I find this hard. It is as if I am snipping off my every hope. My highest ideals, because I didn't real share the same as the person across from me. Right now, I have a very strong need for the world to make sense for me. Not merely because I need to exhibit control over my world, but because if I am ever going to get up, I need to make sure that, standing, I have the net beneath me that will give me the confidence I need to find the higher dark truths and the light that lies inside of it. Living, itself, is a kind of horror story. I need to know... it seems from everybody I know... I am demanding to know whether what I saw was real... or was it not real. Sometimes, I have to accept the truth there and move through it -- unbutton my soul like changing my relationships with the sensitivity that comes from wearing a collar for too long. "Change is God" indeed. (I think I want to read Kindred ... maybe my treasure lies elsehere... -- catch that drift.)

I like Big Love because YES human relationships are complex and miserable. However, why do I feel constantly under attack for insisting they don't have to be miserable? That everyone CAN be happy. That we can like each other again and make great things happen. Yes, we need to figure out how this thing we call civilization works. YES we need people who can communicate those stories we aren't talking about and I DON'T just mean the... well... horribly awkward hate and tough love shit white people expect from each other... we can all change that, know what that represents and

Ok, that little white girl just scared the shit out of me.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Late night thousand thoughts a minute thoughts


I have a cd called African Rhythms. I am unclear how this works here... did these white guys play with the Aka Pymies? Did they copy their music and "make it their own?" Did they record these people and then forgot... A nasty thing my mind. But it isn't just this... you don't want to look at porn with me sometimes. You'd be amazed the kinds of issues I see popping up in porn... that go largely unexamined.

One day, I would like to write a paper about porn and how it passes on it's own personal signature in the construction of the white supremacist partiarchal capitalist machine (thanks bell).

My horoscope from says things like:

Rabbit: "An ideal day to make friendship ties which will resist the test of time."

When all I wanna do is cut people from my life... maybe not permanently, but to allow myself to "grow" out of people and not be afraid of that so new people can be brought forward.

Libra: "Think to look for the company of people who share your interests as well as your ideal."

That's a motherfucker right there. I can find few people with my interests and no one with my ideal. *sighs* I wonder if it is because I don't make my ideal clear enough. But you know, even I am coming to realize it.

Life is not comfortable for those with nervous, sensitive temperments... especially when I start to wonder if I can ever communicate my ideal to another person, much less get paid for even fumbling around, blindly, looking for it.

God, tho, I want to know people who have my ideal.

I'm really disappointed with everything right now, no matter how good or not good. Regardless, I recognize it as a moment to turn inward just a bit so I am working on me instead of the world.

I will never fully understand how some people can be in a room with other people and not speak. I like to talk. I like conversation with people who can be open without feeling they are giving something away that will cost them later -- I haven't had one of those kinds of conversations in years. I don't understand why people stifle how they can feel -- I don't understand when *I* do it. That means I REALLY hate it when YOU do it.

My mom wishes me to be better than her -- that's what she said before I started screaming at her. (Guess you can't be any more unlike your mother if you don't mind and kinda prefer a good screaming and yelling thing -- although the loudness and force of your voice scares your poor mom shitless... I'll call her again this week just to check in -- don't nag, Constant, don't nag.

Lux is asleep on top of the computer, lulled by the roll of my keying, I guess. More than likely, Josalyn is sleeping beside Ryan in my space beside him. I think I am going to finish watching _Oz_ on On Demand... I like watching the story between Tobias and Keller.

But I would be str8 lying if I didn't tell you watching Kenny's torso and around his sexy little hips ain't about to make me bust a nut. (*winks* Always with an edge of crude...) Also, aren't the Muslim's just the sexiest brothas in Oz? GotDAYUM!


(Err, just kidding.)

... I am jeopardizing my own project of going all Virgo Full Moon up on this place.... (with an eclipse, too...) by not being able to sleep because I am allowing myself writing.


Night folks.


on me that my life would be SO much better if, somehow, I could constantly feel the love in overt ways.

I love a million people
I am loved by a million people
and yet, I don't feel the love
(especially not on a continual basis).

I wonder, how many lives could be so much better
they could constantly "feel the love."

... *thinks*


Monday, March 13, 2006

Transiting Moon in Virgo (4th) square Natal Neptune in Sagittarus : visible drafting

In a very obvious manner, I have been tracking my Lunar Returns. A Lunar Return is when the transisting moon forms an exact 0 degree conjunction with your natal moon. My natal moon is at 0 degrees Gemini. With a natal moon at 0 degrees Gemini, I realized I had to pay
attention to the moon in order to be aware when it was my "time of the

This all started when I realized... I certainly did have "times of the month." Although I appropriate the language, I do mean a time where I feel a disturbance in my normally everyday existance. That was when I started to pay attention to the moon.

You see, when I lived in Tucson, AZ, I worked as a "courtesy officer." Call it the goody-two shoes within me set out into the world to maintain order, and then forgetting who I was dealing with. (... another story for another time...) -- moving...

I had always paid attention to the moon. Working as a night courtesy officer in Tucson, AZ allowed me to sit in regular audience of the stages of the moon. Tucson has an ordinance that maintains as much natural darkness as a city like it can. Because the sky is generally cloudless, except during monsoon season, one can watch the moon nakely wax and wane in the sky. My obsession with moon-watching gave forth to research practices. For example, once I looked up the moon phrases and while making my rounds, I would try to notice the moon on a purely sensate level. If you have ever been outside during the Harvest Moon (which is a low moon, sitting low to the ground... in Tucson, you could see the earth beneath your feet. I would find myself straining to see people who looked like me in their fields, backs bent, getting in the harvest. I thought, how different my life is and then understood, just as immediately, the ways in which I *don't* have it better. Today, I find I walk around feeling too sensitive and hurt and yet, those are not the kinds of things you are supposed to talk about. This reminds me of one of my favorite moments in Tucson: I went with Cathy Busha to see Vagina Monologues back in '01 (maybe '02?). Anyway, Cathy and I gender deviate in a very similar fashion and, since I was going out with a stud, I decided to put on my favorite skirt for the occassion -- everyone should own at least one... and if you are in Seattle, I need help shopping, my ass is bigger than all the ones I have! -- ANYWAY, what I found interesting was seeing the only other B/black people in that audience in Tucson. A hopelessly beautiful sista and her boyfriend -- or just date... or just guy with her -- their relationship doesn't matter. The relationship that matters here is the sista having to elbow the dude with her who started whining about "what if everyone sees HIM and think I'M like that..."

My obsession with moon-watching gave forth to creative research investigative projects. For example, once I looked up the moon's phrases. While making my rounds, I took notice of the moon and tried to figure out the different logics to the different names.

I had grace. I smiled, knowing, the only people who think like that are people who ARE
like this. Who is this? Everybody. *winks*), you'd see the immediate difference between it and the Hunter's Moon that hangs high in the sky like a spider waiting for something to shake its web is as apparent as the joy of seeing noctural desert creatures working out their games of survival in the Sonora desert. like knowing and understanding the phases of the moon passed down (... just struggling to divorce myself from the shit of knowing another people's history that demonstrates the colonialization/civilisation game the European nations were caught in). I found myself checking out the

Ah... all together now:

Working as a night courtesy officer in Tucson, AZ allowed me to sit in regular audience to the phrases of the moon and a love of full moon's in general. Tucson has an ordinance that maintains as much natural darkness as a city like it can. Because the sky is generally cloudless, except during monsoon season, one can watch the moon nakely wax and wane in the sky. My obsession with moon-watching gave forth to research practices. For example, once I looked up the moon's phrases. While making my rounds, I took notice of the moon and tried to figure out the different logics to the different names. A Harvest moon, for example really *does* lean low to the ground. In Tucson, during the cooler summer nights, while looking for would-be criminals, I found joy in watching noctural desert creatures working out their games of survival in the Sonora desert. However, the Hunter's Moon hangs high in the sky like a spider waiting for some "thing" to shake its web.

Eventually, I came to notice that "time" of the month (you know... I have heard that males have "periods" every 20 minutes. I think it was on a movie I saw when I was a kid and agreed with it so thoroughly it became a kind of scientific fact. Being a Pomotrannyfaggotmisandrist is *hard* work! -- in the idea of creating gender/sex mythologies... and perhaps another essay tomorrow -- taken with more seriousness.... anyway) occured when the transiting moon crossed over my natal 12th house Chiron in Taurus. As aways, in the middle of intellectualizing my inner wounds, my emotions kicked in as the transiting moon moved over my natal moon. was in Gemini, returning to my natal moon home in the 12th house -- which means I started to feel them as if they were happening in present time (something else in my chart is activated... and it's too hard to discuss astrology in any way that makes any kind of sane or rational sense... any way....). Then, I *had* to be alone. Then, I needed darkness to sit and loosen myself from what became my life, shed and let go of all the hatred and shit that accumulated. I did this in Tucson religiously, living as close to the moon as I did, hating that place as much as I did (I have an actual and active hate of new moons....) -- we wouldn't have left there without that kind of focus. Living in Seattle again, I miss communing with the moon this way. I haven't figured out a relationship with the land here. As usual, I hate it when I get stuck between the now and then... don't you?

All together now:

Eventually, I came to notice that my "time" of the month occured first when the transiting moon crossed over my natal 12th house Chiron in Taurus. Then, in the middle of healing my inner wounds through intense intellectualizing, my emotions kick in just as the transiting moon moved over my natal moon in Gemini -- which means I started to feel my inner wounds as if they were happening in present time. I hate it when I get stuck between the then and now... don't you?

Anyway, since learning about Lunar Returns, I decided to attempt living within my emotions, constantly... which, I fear, is a horribly Piscean way to behave. Today, the transiting moon is in Virgo, moving conjunct my natal Virgoan Venus.

I feel really powerful and strong... I remember this feeling.

This is the surly, domme energy. In the Fourth house, this is the dark side of nurture.

The submissive I had broke it off -- in essence... wait, he was never submissive. Why do I have a knack for bringing out all that is "Uh-uh!" in people? I make people resistant to me and anything I might say or think and distrust meets my ever word because they are afraid... they have no idea what I am seeing, what I am doing, how I am moving, how I am living, whether I am actually living or not because the idea of bending Ryan over my knee and smacking his butt red is really appealing to me. However, being a Taurus, he is going to be skittish and on guard, watchful. Even Yami, who is a Taurus, seems to fear for her autonomy. I don't want to govern them... merely, I want to be around people who like to live in the world of the mind. *sniffles* I am so sad. Where can I find these people in real life? *whine*


Quentin Ergane

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Addiction to Saturday, February 18, 2006

Everyone has the equal opprotunity of being called or thought of as a "bitch" by me... it only bothers me when that someone is a female or/and woman because I am aware of how, at that moment, I am using a tool of patriarchy even if I don't consider myself a male or/an man (some third option....) and thus I am complicit with and perpetuating sexism.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

My hunt for Octavia's sexuality

Someone in my livejournal asked me why it was important to me to know whether Octavia E. Butler was gay. After writing a lot of really ugly words, I got down to it and here is what I wrote. In a sense, I'm explaining why my position has changed regarding knowing whether a person "is" or "isn't."

I hope you enjoy.



Isn't it really profound to you the way... she's suddenly not here? I am a diehard fan, too. I own all of her books -- including Survivor. She is sitting on the first shelf in our first bookshelf (our books do not bother with order). So, as a diehard fan, when I read reports saying she was a lesbian, it makes me wonder: How did I miss that? How did I miss that! Did anyone else catch that? I know she has GBLT characters in her books, but does that mean anything?

I have to ferret out if, in my attempt to be counter-culture, something important fell out. When I created the philosophy of outness that did not situate knowing beyond the scope of who one is fucking, I didn't know what I know now. Now, I understand that knowing should not be restricted to just the person you are fucking, but to your community. *shrugs* I was wrong. Now, I would insist on outing in certain situations. You know why? I don't think being closeted is community-minded.

SOMEONE should know. Someone besides "who you are fucking" because how are we ever to establish an openness, not only about sex, but about sexuality if we insist that no one tells anybody (but that one... and then swear them into silence)? When I restricted "knowing" to intimate relationships that used sex as its foundation, I ignored the other kinds of intimate relationships we have with other people that use *talk/communication" about sex as the foundation. So, in being so specific, I feel I created a reality where people were allowed to hide... "if they wanted to" -- when the point is that maybe we shouldn't hide.

Maybe being a B/black lesbian writer *isn't* a bad thing.
Maybe being a B/black faggot writer *isn't* a bad thing.
Maybe being a B/black bisexual writer *isn't* a bad thing.

Maybe being a B/black *anything* ain't a bad thing.


You see it as segregation -- I see it as knowing my people. You don't have to tell the world, but if you consider us friends, you should tell me... eventually. Because I want to know and building relationships and community means I should know.

I can't be close to someone if I can't be my whole self.

'Sides, sometimes I need to talk about sex -- you can't do that and be in the closet.

Ponder it a bit.


Quentin Ergane

Saturday, March 04, 2006

Aching to Pupate

(song by Regina Spektor)

Perhaps it was that new moon in Pisces conjunct Uranus, but all I know
is that I haven't been able to be "ok" with anything anymore. I need a
change. Not just a little tweaking here and there, but something HUGE,
even DRASTIC, but happy and positive. It dawns on me that, perhaps, the
way one gets out of a rut is by shifting, suddenly and with joy, in
order to get rolling again.

Some of the alterations I have made have been really good. I am
not singing in SLGC (Seattle Lesbian and Gay Chorus) this season, but
am instead taking drumming lessons with a group called "Different
Drummers." I shouldn't be shocked that I am really natural or that I
have a very natural ear (did you know that while drums are percussive,
there are pitches? I learned that last week when one of the guys was
going too fast and the other one was going too slow). More than
anything, last Tuesday, I realized that there is something very good
about just playing with other people.

Let me explain.

I have always had a voice that stood out. *I* don't think a whole
lot about my voice. Yes, I can sing. But there are others who can sing
better and others who sing much worse. I sing for *myself*, for *my
pleasure*. However, I get tired of singing and standing out, of
there not being other voices that can match mine in quality. I'm tired
of standing out, yeah?

Now, this is really weird... because in not wanting to stand out, I
am subverting my Aquarian MC. BUT, I think there are different ways of
standing out, you know? I want to stand out in a way where there is no
pressure placed on me, where I am not trying to prove to other people
that they don't have to treat me like a mere dilettante. I did study
music from a vocal teacher and I took piano lessons, too. I read music.
I was a vocal performance major, even. I don't want to have to go
through all that shit because I feel it is prejudgment on the behalf of
other people. *sighs* So, what am I doing in SLGC? I joined it for a
sense of community and that sense of community was shattered when I
realized the people I *thought* were my friends *weren't* my friends at
all. Namely one person I thought I could count on. It ruined it for me.
Honestly, I should not have come back last Fall, but I let myself be
talked back into it and hated every single fucking miserable moment --
no shit. The best thing about going to rehearsals was riding home with
Regina who is like the wisest, beautiful woman who is really like a mom
to me (... and I get in touch with about as often as my mom... I am
such a bad child, really...), but other than that, my heart wasn't in

My heart, a couple of months ago, was not in anything I was doing.
Wasn't into SLGC, but I was doing it anyway, wasn't into Amazon, but
was doing it anyway. I was trying to be the kind of adult we are all
given messages we have to, need to be. Not even trying to be my own
kind of adult. Not trying to find something my heart COULD be into. I
was so miserable. I was smoking cigs again, I was escaping to get to
work and to come home from work so I wasn't talking about any of this
with Ryan. I was trying to excite myself about a show I helped put
together, but did nothing for me, nothing *real* for me as a singer.

And then I got sick and I feel that getting sick saved my life
because I had to pull back and take stock and face things like...
realizing I didn't know what I am passionate about and sitting with
that and then burying it all over again.

Since Yami has been here, I have liked moving about. I like having
someone here to be social with (in that way, I am like a cat) because
it has really righted my emotional, psychological and psychic
equilibrium. The world seems to be filled with possibility again
instead of failures waiting to happen and going with Lynn to meditate
and getting into the idea of failures and making a conscious choice to
fail every day has resulted in great creativity and freedom and a
kind of playful lightness.

But there's more -- and I know it. I need to figure out a way to
generate income. I have no idea how to do that without going the
"normal" routes. How do people like me make it without being homeless?
I am too much of a princess to be homeless!

So, my goal is to figure out how to generate income without selling my
soul. BON CHANCE! -- I know, but there's gotta be something. Something
until I can figure out graduate school and do that
stuff. I keep telling myself to take it all one step at a time... one
step at a time... so I don't overwhelm myself. With it already being
March and I am not ready to take the GRE yet, I think the goal is to
get myself to the point where I feel I can take the GRE and not rely so
much on my intuition, but I know I can take the test and do well
because my scores are going to really matter.

... I wish I didn't have Mars in Cancer... I wish my forward motion
was not so easily hijacked by my emotional state and that my emotional
state wasn't always in some form of flux. I would waste time wishing I
was like other people, but that is so useless a thought I want to erase
it right now, but I won't... because I am feeling my honesty right now.

1) Establish habits that help me become a better person who

a) has less chaotic emotional states that derail whatever's happening

b) help me channel my will towards my goals

2) Do more things that help me enter a meditative state

a) the thing I was going to write about re: Different Drummers is
that at one point I could not hear my drum and it caused me some
anxiety and I had to face the fact that I actually rely on being able
to hear, to supervise my effort. I let go and trusted that although I couldn't hear my individual sound, my hands were hitting the
drum and we were playing in unison against the other part and it was ok. I had to come to terms with... how I don't want to stand out, yet
how dependent I am on standing out -- the pride I receive from standing
out. Pride isn't necessarily *bad*, but it does need to be
channelled in constructive ways so I am not so focused on
what I am doing and that I am doing it correctly and as artfully as possible that I miss the chance to be a part of something
larger than myself, a part of a community. I faced the ways
in which I thwart that, naturally... although it isn't always that

3) Surround myself with people who are positive and who are good.

a) I do know good people. Why is it that the good people, the
people I admire, are often the people who escape my reach so often?
They reach out and then I am supposed to reach back, but I forget to or
don't because there's nothing *wrong* with them and I start to feel
like they are so awesome and so cool and together that there is
something wrong with me and I get all shy and shit and end up not being
able to be influenced by their goodness the way I should be influenced.
Like... what's up with that?

So, it is nearly two in the morning and I have been... stalling
going to bed because I am also achingly horny. (why people think relationships are the end of horniness, I have no clue!)

Will I ever find real community? Maybe not. But I can't allow that
to stop me from chasing my objectives and goals... not anymore.

Now, I am going to watch Six Feet Under on On Demand until I pass
out... or maybe jerk off and then watch... who knows. But it feels good
to want to move, to need to move, to not be able to be still.

Anyway, bai.