Is it just me, or has Boston lately been smelling like a dirty hippy's crotch ( Read more... )

haptotrope made me a new icon.

I love haptotrope

Today, one of my co-workers referred to as a "bitter old queen". After a moment of indignation, I remembered that, yes, I do typically refer to my heart as made out of barbed wire, so maybe she could be right.
But this leads me to the question just what exactly constitutes a bitter old queen?

( Club Passim presents a 3-week intensive writing workshop with Emmet Quinn and James Caroline (J*me) )

It's two in the morning. I've got six hours to finish my application package. The portfolio's done. The synopsis (sans the discussion of whether or not Lou is a "Magical Faggot") is done. Now, I just have to write about why I write ( Read more... )

If men in Southie knit, they're closeted about it. They certainly don't knit in public, and they certainly don't do it in pink while riding the T.
toniamato is right. I was totally tweaking last night, because when I got called a faggot for the first time in a long time, I just smiled, kept on knitting, and said, "Oh, you're just jealous that your mama ( Read more... )

I got a new bike today ( Read more... )

Oh hells yeah, I get around.


( Read more... )

Last night, all night long, I dreamed that I was walk though Ulysses, through a chapter I haven't read yet, with a lover. The city we were walking through was both Dublin and the novel, and the streets packed with other people just like us who were at once propelled by the dictates of what had been written and at the same time gawking at the ( Read more... )

It's just over eight days until NaNoWriMo begins, and I'm starting to prepare in earnest.
( November = 50,000 words on the subject of anarchism and faggotry )