I really should pay more attention to this journal.. I am so infatuated with all of the people who have played with it with me, and now I have such little contact with them. I miss my silly people.

I am a moth. I like to hover as close to fire and warmth as I can get. I want to be near enough to touch and smell and tickle the things that I will never quite have. I love to yearn, pine, and rage. I love feeling so intensely that I have to leave rooms and go outside so as not to swell the small spaces and leave them pulsing and contaminated. I ( Read more... )

I have officially satisfied one of my childhood fantasies. Today I got to play in/around/behind a waterfall, slipping about on the moss covered rocks. Missina, Stefan, and I went up to Mt. Rainier and explored a bit, taking photographs and whatnot. The area was beautiful, if a little bereft of naked women wading through the ponds. On the way up ( Read more... )

So, I went to my first class, and found that I am already quite fond of my teacher. He's slightly older, with hair in scattered tufts and animated eyes. When he speaks, he uses effectively belligerent hand motions, and his entire body seems tightened as if he is poised to bounce. I imagine I will learn quite a bit in this class, though I'm worried ( Read more... )

hey bryan.. wanna hide in cardboard box for a while and talk about how shitty we feel?

i could bring tea.

so bryan.. is there any way to un-octopus?

Stefan: "Don't play with that" (as she fiddles with his knife ( Read more... )

I was surprised, I was happy for a day in 1975 ( Read more... )

I wonder what I'd do without Bryan..

I think I understand why my mother always went to therapy. Its a difficult thing to have a lot which needs to be said but no one to say it to. After a while all of those thoughts start to bleed together and fade, and by the time that somebody's there, no real words will form. And a piece of you feels missing.