oh, hell, OK. it's not THAT devastating. in fact, i rarely even notice it. in fact, i never had any innocence to lose. yesterday, my folks showed up on my doorstep & took me, along w/ some elderly relatives, to one of those small-town festivals. you know the type. the podunk opossum festival. the jerkwater carrot jamboree & castrated reindeer roundup. the buttfuck, egypt lizard cook-off & geriatric hoedown. anyway, i spent the day wandering through miles of folksy crafts displays, saying hi to the nice folksy people. i started wondering a lot about myself. i can't even approach these gigs w/ a normal demeanor. it's a nice small town w/ nice small town people, doing nice small town things. everybody's happy, munching cotton candy & having nice corn-fed dreams. even as a kid, i couldn't buy into all that crap. i just never could. i always imagined, probably correctly, all those nice people beating the hell out of their kids, raping their wives, & breaking each other's bones on the weekends. what would it be like to be innocent? to NOT imagine the darkside of everything? what in the hell could it possibly be like to actually be a nice small town person who finds true joy in sitting on the front step whittling wooden bison, singing a rousing chorus of "oh, susannah", & saying howdy to zeke the one-toothed mailman when he brings you the new reader's digest? i almost wished, for about two seconds, that i could BELIEVE all that shit. that the world was a nice, happy place full of grinning, happy people who love nothing more than lending their neighbors a helping hand. but shit ain't like that. & it never was. still, i wonder about some of these people. i think they actually BELIEVE in this shit. they believe in small-town amerika. in country music & apple pie. they believe in the big fluffy god who lives down at the first baptist church. what could that possibly be like? to believe in that kind of world? NO ONE is that goddamn innocent. yet it seemed as if 95% of these people really were. it was alternately beautiful & frightening beyond belief.

you're more innocent than you like to believe it you can write all this.

maybe. i dunno. i guess i'm wondering what kind of mindset a person would have to possess to take this sort of worldview at face value. to really & truly believe in some sort of kinder, gentler existence. to see the taterville chickenhead festival as normal. to not ever question. to know that both god & the kiwanis club are looking out for you. what line do you get into to subscribe to such notions? & how do i avoid that line like the plague? just wondering, i guess, what it'd be like to be normal. to not be a glaring freak. not that i want to change too much. just wondering how the other half (or 90%) lives.

You know, crimson, I had a similar thought yesterday. I was wondering what it would be like to live without the constant reminder of mortality. I wondered what it would be like to forget. I wondered what it would be like to believe something that would make the knowledge easier to swallow.

I think these people surrender to the temptation of having others do their thinking for them. You then do not question that God is lookingout for you personally, that Fords are better than Chevys and that is an important distinction, and that it's good to have the WlaMArt distribution center go in across town because it means more jobs. i think that these people are able to, once they've made a decision about something, not think about it ever again for their entire lives.

oh well. y'know? if everyone had a clue, who would want to make falaffel all day long? it's the normal boring people who build houses, fix cars, stock toilet paper in the shelves, and, in some cases, raise future sorabji.commers. are some of them abusive? yes. are some intellectualoids abusive and so certain that they're right about being abusive that they take over governments so they don't have to limit their abuse to those under their households? mmhmm. wouldn't it be nice if you didn't need the onion and indepentdent bookstores to entertain you, if every show on TV were geared towards somebody of your intelligence, if any bar and any beer and any girl were good enough? of course, I say no, but if I were dumb & happy, I wouldn't want to be the uptight anxious geek that I am now. just another perspective.

I don't think the people who believe in all that "small town Amerika" stuff are, as a rule, innocent. And I don't think they don't question, and I don't think they let other people do their thinking for them. At least, not all of them. If that's what some people need to be happy, and they know it; that doesn't make them dumb, or innocent, or gullible. It makes them people who know what they like. Some have probably already seen as much as anyone here has, and then, for whatever reason, chose to just slide into Americana. Maybe the ask questions, and the answers they get actually work for them. Maybe they really like taters, and lizards, carrots and "podunk opossums." Maybe God DOES live down the street in the first baptist, and the Kiwanis *are* looking out for them. That's not innocence, not really. Plenty of these people know, some even *understand* about Bad Things. Some of them are content anyhow. I really envy that. And they might wonder, amongst themselves, how anyone could be so jaded and cynical and perverted as to enjoy Sorabji.com and nerve.com and the like. Who see hopeless people turning to the internet for friends, and can only sigh and shake their heads and not get it. And surely, some are abusive, and some are gullible, and some are stupid, and some lie. But I'm stupid, and Nate's abusive, and plenty of us are liars, and plenty of us are gullible. So that's okay.

Doesn't it come down to what is normal anyway? Sometimes I wonder about Sorabjites and this myth that we're all so very different to the suburban-Mom-and-Dad types. Where will we be in 10 years time? Will more of us be flashing those kiddy pics and bitchin' about our mortgages? And who's to say you can't do that and still be an independent thinker? When I was at college (English: University), I joined the communist party and while I believed in the idea of it, I think it was more to prove to whoever that I wasn't my parent's daughter....that I was a grown-up with advanced political views. It seems kind of lame now. I also thought being poor was cool and was proud of my cardboard box bedside tables. Now I recognise that being cashless is dull, constricting and downright uncomfortable. Bah...this is a dull rave... I think what I'm getting at is - is a lack of conformity so common now, that it has become cliche?

that's it. i'm becoming a yahoo. as in gulliver's travels, not the search engine.

what was it that job said? - "miserable comforters are ye all." me included. but i do know what it's like to be robbed of something - something that's supposed to be a birthright and make you normal and fit easily into the throng. me in my little chair. and my mangled and paralyzed parts. but an old friend was over this afternoon and left me a bottle of scotch. i remember when i was in rehab right after i severed my spine. part of my therapy was the "standing frame" - a metal frame that i would transfer into and be cranked up into a standing position for a half hour. supposed to be good for my circulation. it was in a gym where there was a group of ambulatory people doing exercises. the nurse who was overseeing me leaned over and said, "those are the chronic back pain patients. i hate them; they think they have it so bad." i thought about that. i was supposed to be angry about it. then i thought, "i give you your little problems." chronic back pain is like a paper cut - just annoying enough to be disruptive. paralysis is pretty unequivocal: how am i going to function, work, love, drive, take care of myself. you get utterly pragmatic and just do what needs to be done. no wishing to be normal again, much less philosphising about what it means to be normal. and after that i worked at a flea market for a while and met the kind of people who went to flea markets, some of which were a lot of old men who had nothing better to do. that sit down and talk to me and tell me stories of varying degrees of truth. after a while you start to notice that part of this is them saying, "this is not all i am, or ever was - an old man." one day a young guy came into my booth and started looking around. then he engaged me in a little small talk. then asked me how i got in a chair and whether i'd ever get out. people who ask you this at a casual meeting always have a story they're itching to tell. his was that he had a brain tumor and had 6 months to live. you never know what kind of tragedy is milling around out there in the crowd. the podunk possum festival or a flea market is as good a place as any to forget about your problems. and a chili peppers concert or a thai restaurant or a message board or any place where apparently progressive thinkers might be found is, in my opinion, not all that different. the scotch i'm drinking is called scoresby. it is light and refreshing.

I envy people who think they know the answers. It must be so comforting to think you know how it all will work out. I have only rarely had the luxury of ever thinking 'well I definitely know this will be true' and maybe for those who really believe they know 'the truth' their lives to abide by it. I had been reading this book called 'Unveiled' it's a group of interviews with Nuns and it is incredible reading. The women in the book are all so impressive in having a really deep sense of peace and meaning to their life. And their lives were not all goody two shoes. Lots had come from really crazy households or had boyfriends or had a hard time choosing to go into a convent or to take their vows for life. Some go into big complaints about the Catholic church too much to my surprise. They all were pretty fucking incredible women though. Common people who were uncommonly cool. I've had experiences like Tom's too. Sometimes you will meet people only for a minute and have the most incredible converstations. Or you'll have a really surprising connection with someone. Then they're gone. Travelling is an excellent way to have that happen.

sometimes people will leave things out because they want others to ask questions, to think. i know i do. i try to ask the questions that nobody else asks...the oddball questions. sometimes i get labeled as a bit of a smartass, but it's better than being furniture. my great-uncle was born with a hole in his spine. my grandpa would take him to and from school in a little red wagon. my great-grandparents were norweigian immigrants. my great-grandpa jumped ship. my great-grandmother saved money to come here. her father died when she was very young so she was sent to live with a farm family that boxed her ears until she was tachnically deaf. she learned english mostly by lip-reading. sometimes i wish that i could be as strong.

i'm not sure that any of the actual points i wanted to make came across. what i'm NOT suggesting is that i'm one iota cooler than the possum festival crowd. this is not a hipper-than-thou contest. & i'm not necessarily even talking about intellectualism vs. non-intellectualism. i'm talking about faith. my relatives i was with, for instance. they KNOW that fundamentalism is right. they know that they are saved & will go to heaven, no matter what. they know the republican party is right; they know clinton & the evil "left" are wrong. communists are wrong, too. they understand that all children everywhere will grow up to be fine, productive citizens if they're just taken to church & subjected to enough harsh, regimental discipline & hard work. they know that sex before marriage is always wrong & that john wayne was a helluva good american. they also know that the main thing wrong w/ this country is that the kiddies aren't praying in school. these ideas, to them, have no deviation. everything is dualistic, black & white. there are no such things as grey areas. while i was at the festival, i felt like i was not merely traveling w/ a carload of people who felt that way--i felt like i was suddenly dropped down into a whole universe of people who held those beliefs. their world is a different one than the one i'm presently residing in. but i'm considered normal if i fit in w/ the possum festival folks. i'm NOT considered normal if i dragged a few possum festival folks w/ me to a live gay sex show & piercing extravaganza. they will always be normal. i will always be wrong. it's not a hipness competition. i don't know why i don't fit in w/ the possum festival world view. i just DON'T, that's all. i never did. when i was a child, i had some weird ability to see through a lot of the adult world. i'm not weird because i try. i just wake up like this, every fucking day of my life. why can i not believe? if i could believe all these things, i'd be normal. but i'll never be normal. people talk about initiation into sex as a "loss of innocence", but i promise you, my innocence was vaporized long before anybody ever jammed their dick inside me. the world would be a brighter, cleaner, easier place to live if i could just swallow the whole party line. but i can't. i find the party line repugnant at best. i'm just wondering why it's all so damn easy for my relatives to believe & it's so hard for me. i have faith, but not in the right things, the things that would make my life easier.

I think that I don't know how things are going to turn out. And I don't really mind. I think it's more fun not to know, to just kind of barrel through life and see where it gets me. I have it better than some and worse than others, I suppose, just like anyone else. I'm alive. People do sometimes strike up amazing conversations--on the flight over after te stop at St. Louis, I met this really neat person in the seat next to me who was going to NY for the weekend. He was utterly awesome. I'll never see him again. But it was still a fun conversation, and I wouldn't have backed out of it just because I knew I'd never see him again. And yes, people definently leave things out so that other people will ask. I do it all the time and then I feel stupid for doing it. But there's something in you that craves the attention, craves the curiosity, and so it lets you do it anyway, I think.

This probably doesn't have jack shit to do with anything, but I thought I'd file it here. It's kinda about innocence. It's about my kid, who has a certain innocence about him. The boy has been raped, beaten and left to starve, yet there's something really innocent and pure about him. Yesterday, his cat died. Got killed in front of him by a speeding motorist. The driver didn't even stop the fucking car. The cat, Napoleon, died a rather gruesome death on the side of the road. It was over in less than five minutes but not before the blood and seizures and everything. One of the cat's eyes came out, too. Brendan was extremely disturbed by this. Which is an understatement. It just kind of got to me. Here's this kid who's been kicked around all his life but he's still loving and tender toward animals. Brendan's fragile as a fucking eggshell. He didn't need this. Of course, neither did poor Napoleon, who we buried while Brendan stayed at home with his friend, Violet (he just couldn't handle burying the cat, although he did fashion a makeshift coffin for him). I don't even know why I'm mentioning all this. It's just that I was overwhelmed, once again, by Brendan's childlike innocence. A lot of kids who are raised with violence become violent themselves. Brendan abhors violence and cruelty of any sort, and he's so tender and sweet around animals (unlike a lot of local boys, who torture animals for kicks). It makes me want to guard over Brendan for the rest of his life so that nobody ever takes that innocence away from him. And my God, that poor cat. What can be said? It was horrible. That was about enough to wreck MY innocence, and I don't have any left to spare.

I'm taking this class on death....how we face it...how we deal with it. The thing is, we don't. Even though it's this thing that can always be right around the corner....that *IS* a part of everyone's life....we deny it. I'm being as serious about this because I had to bury my ferret Edy last week. I know how much it hurts to lose an animal you thought you'd have forever. Is, Brendan will get stronger. He won't forget it...but having something like that happen to him now...it will stay with him. Sounds like he'll use that info in the best way.....

oh my. poor kid. one of the cats next door that i took care of for a couple of days was once hit by a car and survived. but i've seen some awful things in the road...tons of cats, a couple of birds (there was one that used to get me all choked up because it's wing was sticking up in the air), raccoons, possums, and even a fawn. i saw a FAWN by the side of the road. dead. i'd think someone would stop after hitting something that large. i always worry about hitting one particular dog in the neighborhood. he tags along with a man in a wheelchair who leaves cigarrettes and his lighter near our driveway. he'll come sniff the bumper while i'm driving by. but having to watch the cat die...man, that's harsh.

That's very sad about the cat. I think too lots of time people just blow off how important pets can be to their owners, and that there is a relationship there and that they aren't just pets, they are your roommate, your friend,... People can be really unsympathetic, like 'just get a new one'. Very thoughtless. As for faith and knowing you're right, arguably we could say that knowing sex before marriage is OK, fundamentalism is nutty, that you won't go to heaven, that republicans are wrong, the left is good, communists are OK, and John Wayne was just an actor can be just as restrictive on the other end. Saul Alinsky says 'he truly free man never knows if he is on the right path because he always questions himself.' I just saw Winona LaDuke speak at the Nader convention yesterday and thought that about her. Narrowly Liberal. Not to say that anyone here is (or isn't, I don't know), just making a general point.

I think my husband was going to get me a pomeranian to replace my beloved Lucky,but I made it very clear that I didn't want another dog,it just wouldn't be Lucky.

Every time one of my animals dies, it utterly devastates me. I know that I will usually outlive my animals, but it doesn't make in any better, especially when it's a gruesome death. One of my cats is dying of cancer and he's 3,000 miles away. I hope he's still alive when I come back from holiday. I remember when I worked for a vetrinarian we had a cat named George, utterly black, really sweet shorthair. He had been hit and dragged by a car and his entire back end was paralized. No one wanted to adopt him until one of the techs took him in, and she would bring him to work with her every day. He was such a sweetheart--it made me roil inside to see him drag himself around the floor using his front legs. It makes me so angry that so many drivers are careless--often a pet is someone's life, someone's reason to live, and some asshole driver isn't paying attention and just runs it down, usually speeding. It makes me sick. Sometimes, it's true, a driver isn't careless, and an animal darts in front of the road--it's impossible for the driver to avoid the animal. But the least he could do is pull over and pull the animal off to the side of the road, find the owner if he can and say that he's really sorry...even a token gesture like that helps so much. I always stop if I see an animal someone elese has run over, and I pull it to the side of the road. Sometimes, if I have time, I'll look for the owner too--it's really not a pleasent experience to find your pet a week after it's been hit lying by the side of the road. I'm sorry about Brendan's cat. Even though it sounds cruel, getting a new animal really helps. Of course it's not the same animal, of course you shouldn't run down and find a new cat today, but someday you should...there are so many animals at the humane society and at friendly vetrinarian's offices who need homes with a loving owner like Brendan that they deserve it.

Most animals, I feel the same way. however: I clipped a deer the other day in my friends car. pulled over, totally freaked out. not because I was worried about the deer, though. I was looking out for his brothers. The deer around here have a strange way of surviving: They draw straws, and the loser jumps in front of a car. The driver of the car will inevitably either get out of the car, or at least stop, or occasionally be knocked out by the impact. The rest of the herd quickly moves in and eats the flesh of the driver and any passengers. It's a horrible thing. However, it explains why everyone around here has a shotgun in their truck. It's a fight for the right to live. Fuckin' deer.

Crimson, I know that it was about faith, but I got sorta sidetracked in my little rant. sorry. What I meant to say was basically this: I don't think those people are, necessarily, any more innocent than you or I. I think that the things they've seen have just encouraged them to live the way they do; for whatever reason, the fucked up things they seen and done can best be dealt with (as far as they're concerned) by playing (consciously or not) the suburban happylife game. Tom Robbins: "Everybody has a hard luck story."

Wonderful quote. I love Tom Robbins. Ok, so as far as this innocence thing goes...I've been thinking about it. I got into a conversation once with this born again xtian at a coffee shop. He was trying to convince me why it was better to hold out on the nookie til after marriage. Me, being lil ms. sexpot (I can't stop using that word---sorry) argued that if I ever chose to get married, or even commit my life to someone, I'd want to make DAMN sure he/she could sexually satisfy me. That's a biggie. Because yer with that person for the rest of your life. (sometimes--there's thousands of exceptions to the rules but that would make this go on fer-evah') If I got stuck with someone who couldn't make me happy in bed...I'm almost positive other aspects of the relationship would suffer. I know, I've seen it happen before. He said, well, if you've never been with someone, if you've waited your whole life...and then finally, the night comes...god...it'll be the most beautiful thing ever. And for a minute I believed him. For a minute I wished I could erase all those men and women from my past and be fresh. Not have that knowledge of what it's like when two bodies are just that close together. For a few minutes I wanted my innocence back. But then, I thought, innocence often equals ignorance. In anything. I know I used sex as an example (cuz well uh) but anything that we term as a "loss of innocence"...we gain from it too. We learn the emotions, the feelings, the pain...we take it with us and we move on. Stronger. I wouldn't lose all of that for the world.

I think Brendan's handling the whole thing okay, relatively speaking. He's doing better today than yesterday. I think he does want to get a new cat in a few weeks. He said he wants one from a shelter, one that's in danger of being euthanized. Not the cute baby animals that everybody seems to go for, but a mature, calm cat. Brendan's been really interacting with his gerbils today. Giving them extra treats and talking to them a lot. Genghis and Kublai are calm little Zen beasties. Brendan gets a lot of joy out of having them around. He's still devastated about the cat, of course, but it seems to help that he's got other pets to care for. Brendan only had that cat for a short while. It was a stray he took in. The whole situation is traumatic enough, but could have been worse (like if he'd had a whole decade of bonding with the animal, for instance). Still, the death was really a fucked up experience. Brendan has some gashes on his forearm where he tried to help the cat and it clawed the shit out of him. I was afraid that I was going to have to kill the cat to put it out of its misery. I was prepared to do so. But then the pain subsided and the cat just laid there and finally died. We didn't try to move him. It was hopeless and we knew it. Moving him would only cause more pain. It helped a lot that Brendan's friend, Violet, spent a lot of time with him after Napoleon died. She did some kind of little Pagan ritual to help the cat make a peaceful passage over "the rainbow bridge". It definitely helped that Brendan had someone his own age to talk to. I've been having some reservations about Violet as an influence on him, but this time, she came through. Brendan wanted her to stay overnight and I wouldn't mind if she did, but her folks are the type who'd have a bigass problem with that sort of thing. They weren't totally unsympathetic, though, and allowed her to stay here three hours later than usual, which was helpful. Tomorrow she's getting half a day off from school for some reason, and she's going to come over here and hang out.

That's good. I'm so happy that Brendan _wants_ to adopt from the shelter and rescue a cat. You should make sure to enforce on the shelter staff that you want to se _all_ the animals, not just the no-kills in front (most shelters now are no-kill where I am, and in Mendo, so I thought yours might be). Also, you might try asking local vets about animals theyhave which have been abandoned, since a lot of animals get lost that way too...Anyway. I'm delighted that Brendan wants to help an animal. Can you tell I like my animals more than I like my people? Whoops.

s'ok. there are so many animals out there that need a good home: enough to eat, a warm and dry place to sleep, security. i once spent a day watching a vet work. there were a couple of examinations, a cat came in for neutering and declawing. but right at the end of the day, in came a woman with her dog. the dog was in extremely bad shape. it had gotten in a bad fight with a larger dog and his owner had "treated" him with horse medicines. the poor animal's skin was rotting away, hardly hiding the enourmous pus deposits on his neck. the vet had to cut large pieces of skin away, and flush out the pus with a solution of iodine and water. the dog just shuddered every time the liquid hit his flesh. how the woman allowed her dog to get to this state before bringing him in, i have no clue.

My lover, Trace, almost took it harder than Brendan did. It was rough. Trace cried his fucking eyes out, which didn't help calm the kid down any. It was really tough because I had this crying kid AND this crying adult to deal with, not to mention a couple of seriously freaked out neighbors, and the whole time, I was just trying to keep my shit together. Somebody had to be in control. But watching the cat shrieking and spinning in circles with bloody bones sticking out of its skin and one eyeball smashed out didn't make me feel like I had my shit together in the slightest. I felt like a fucking lost helpless kid. I was horrified. There's not a whole hell of a lot that really wigs me out, but that really pushed my limits. Trace has broken down again a couple of times today and all I can do is gently reassure him. There's nothing I can do to fix any of this. All I can do is comfort people and try not to freak out about it myself.

Yeah. It's rough to watch an animal die in a really tortured way. I think that anyone who kills an animal under the circumstances you described has an unpleasent surprise coming. The sooner, the better.

:attempts to run with a butcher knife to get revenge on the cat-slaughterer: too far. not supposed to run. can hardly run anymore. sorry.

ooh, sorabjites running w/ knives. pass the sharp objects. seriously, the incident w/ the poor kitty really sucks. i also feel sorry for the people who are dealing w/ it right now. pilate's right...i think trace IS taking it worse than brendan. i saw brendan a while ago & he seems to be doing OK. on the innocence thing...i just think it's odd that it's considered "normal" to hang out w/ the right wing (the possum fest, joining the lions club, hanging out at a quilting bee) but it's NOT normal to ask them to do anything remotely weird (don't take great-grandma to the porn theatre, don't bring a herd of goths to the first baptist church, don't dress in drag at the high school football game). see, they always want the show to run on THEIR terms. why aren't they the weirdos & misfits of this society? who made these people the arbiters of normalcy, anyhow? by their standards, i'm abnormal. by my standards, they're hopelessly square. but i dip into their world from time to time & manage to function. ask them to dip into my world for eight hours & they'd fucking piss themselves. i'm supposed to be all open-minded & accept them, but they'll never accept the likes of me. if i find them to be baffling, then i'm close-minded; if they find me to be obscene, then they're normal. it's a sociological double standard. i'm not all hung up about it...i just find it somewhat interesting & amusing.

last year there was a boy who came to school in a dress. he used the girls bathroom because he didn't want to be teased and everyone jumps on him. the dress code was altered even more and the oregonian did a huge article about it. ooooh, the newspaper ~loves~ my old high school.

you are hung up about it, crimson. and you sound neither interested nor amused. all i hear you saying is that you want your relatives to accept you. you sound innocent to me because you're saying things that i've long since left behind. what everybody is trying to say is that "normal" and your relatives don't rule the world. maybe you just haven't completely accepted yourself - all the good things you are and all that good shit. or maybe you just haven't "cut the cord" with your family - left their emotional clutches and become an individual. hell, i don't know. you tell me. but drop all of the "what makes them the arbiters of normalcy" stuff.

whoa. OK. it's dropped. i've been estranged from my relatives for years now. i'm just now getting back together w/ a few of them, in a kind of fleeting superficial way. they don't accept my lifestyle & they never will. i don't think ANY of this (to me) was about my overwhelming desire for my relatives to accept my ass, because it's not fucking happening. i'm just really curious about their world, having seen a slice of it over the weekend. i don't understand why "normalcy" isn't a 2-way street...why i'm encouraged to dabble in their world but they wouldn't touch mine w/ a 10-foot pole. & most of this wasn't about my relatives, but about society at large, of which my relatives & a million other people like them are just a microcosm. i didn't mean to turn it into a big issue. from what you're saying, i'm obviously not getting my point across effectively. i'm just musing aloud. it's not like i'm a philosopher or anything. i'm just this freakin' hillbilly w/ a few loose thoughts to post. if you left all that stuff behind years ago, then hell, you're just a more advanced person than i am. kudos to you. everybody's got to start somewhere. i'm starting by trying to write out my thoughts. it's no big deal, i swear. i'm trying to think about some stuff, here. i wish i could write better, so that everyone could understand. & if i'm innocent, so be it. i am, in fact, the last innocent. i am innocence incarnate.

heh-heh. didn't know i sounded angry. which i'm not. i was just getting interested in all this and just wanted to get into why you were saying all this. and don't get defensive. i'm not saying i'm better or smarter than anyone. a lot of this just sounds similar to my life and what i did to cope with it. i grew up with an "in your face" parentage, and sometimes that's how i react. if this is just mild curiosity about "normalcy", fine. all families want their kids to be normal and what they consider safe and secure. they don't want any wildcards in the mix. i've been nothing but a massive disappointment to my parents, and now i just never talk to one and the other told me "hell, i'm too old for this. let's just have a drink." i think it's possible that we both have feelings that are difficult to express. there's something i'm trying to say here that i just can't quite express on these boards. but i'm not trying to belittle you. i'm actually trying (badly) to argue some point that is actually important to me.

i'd adopt another cat, but I am having two good cat-buddies coming to stay with me for a while, and three is the limit on that apartment. When I had to bury my first cat, he had been in the freezer for a few months. He died while I was at college during the winter, and we had to wait for the snow to melt and the ground to thaw. I was sad but I had already gotten used to the fact of his death. I think, though, I will not handle the death of my current kittie so well though.

Yeah. I really love Silver Bell. I need him to be there when I come back for holiday.

cat buddies!!!!! yeahhhh! oh shit, i can't imagine seke dead. why did you say that andy?

cat in the freezer. heh. that's so reuben and ed.

i love cats. mimsi was my favorite. i think you all heard her tail. i like buttons and all, but she's not as vocal as mimsi. buttons is louder, but mimsi was more articulate. i need my mimmi-poo! i talked with my mom about maybe adopting another cat from the humane society. maybe that's what i'll ask for christmas this year. to be able to adopt a cat.

That's a good present to ask for. I think Silver Bell is my favourite cat. I mean, I like Shadow a lot too, but Bell has this appeal which just can't be beat. He's such a sweetie. And he gets this great meow when he wants you to pet him, half purr, half meow, like he can't make up his mind, but that if you pet him, he'll definently purr...so of course, you pet him, and his wholel body rumbles.

kittens in red wine-sauce.

that doesn't sound very tasty. I know that cats are eaten in some countries, but really...I hate to be reminded of these things. Of course, I guess in some countries it's repulsive to eat cow or pig, too. Hrm. You just can't win. As long as it's not my cats, and they aren't abused, whatever. I'm not going to eat it, though.

There was a very funny site by People Against Poodles. They had lots of poodle recipes. It was sick. I loved it.

*laugh* I like poodles well enough, usually. My friend Ashley has a poodle named, yes, Fifi, who has seizures all the time. I feel sorry for the poor dog. But she doesn't clip and style her poodle like other people do, which I like a lot. The dog is really sweet, too. Not all drooly and gross like most dogs (to me) are. I'm not really a dog person. Usually I like dogs I'm introduced to and I know well, but I don't run up to dogs in the street like I will cats.

I should have confessed that I have a poodle. My ex bought him for me, or I wouldn't have a pedigree dog. I keep him like the low-class shaggy ruffian he really is at heart. Actually poodles are kinda cool because they have wool not fur. His name is Moet James Oliver (I let my nephews have a hand in naming him and there was some dissention about it...so we did the democratic thing and he's Moet after the champagne, James after a vain nephew and Oliver as in Twist).

Are you going to post some pictures for us?

No I don't think I will. The only puppy pic is set in my sitting room and the experiment with posting a pic of my bedroom was not very pleasant. I felt like I was being judged on the basis of one lousy shot taken from one small angle. Not that anyone was hurtfully critical, it was just strange reading offhand comments about something so personal to me. It made me think a lot more about how Mark stands having his life open for scrutiny. I don't think I could do it.

Reuben and Ed......thats exactly what i thought when he said cat in the freezer....hehe!

Ah, come on Cat. Your bedroom was gorgeous. Mine's like a monk's quarters -- totally spartan, bed, dresser, nighttable, lamp, alarm clock. I'd like to see the pup.

I didn't mean to sound like I was insulting your bedroom, if it felt that way--I really like it. Mine's a dank ugly hole I'd be ashamed to post. Yours has light and air and nice things. When I said it felt impersonal, it's because I couldn't see much of it, and thus couldn't see much of you--I didn't notice a dresser or things on it, which is to me what makes a bedroom. Please post the picture?

mimsi used to ask me questions--she'd look at me and softly mew. sometimes i'd wake her up from a nap by lightly touching her fur and she'd always make this "prrrup" noise. she'd make it when she was jumping into my lap, too. she'd always jump into it when i was sitting at the computer, or if i was sad.

Yeah, Bell does that too. He asks permission before doing anything, even when he knows he's allowed to do it.

that's it. i need a new cat. mom, prepare to be dazzled by the amount of cat things i find on the internet and apply to the computer!!!

*smile* Cats are so wonderful. A friend of mine here wants to get a kitten...and name it Chicken...I know where I'm spending all my time now.

Cat is wonderful.

my cat my cat my cat

What a beautiful cat. Give him a big squeeze tonight for those of us who are thousands of miles away from our kitties. I have their pictures out on my desk. They're making me smile, even though I feel lonely and miserable and sad tonight. They have a way of doing that, even thousands of miles away.

S's simply sensational

pretty kitty. is he (i'm assuming he) a persian? he looks a bit like (as in body and fur type) a calico persian i used to have.

Pretty kitty, indeed. It'll be interesting to see what kind of cat Brendan ends up adopting from the shelter. He wants to wait a few weeks, but I can tell he's already getting a bit excited about getting another pet (although he's still bothered by the loss of the other cat, of course). If he had his way about it we'd have a damn zoo around here. He wants to take in every stray he sees. Every square inch of the house would be occupied by animals. Brendan spent part of the day with his buddy, Violet, while Trace and I were out. She's usually in school during that time, but she wasn't yesterday. I came home and found them asleep together, worn out from doing whatever goofy things they do when I'm not there, holding hands in their sleep. They looked sweet as hell. I covered them both with a blanket and just let 'em sleep. It's been kind of nagging at me, wondering if anything sexual could be happening between them. Brendan's hopelessly gay, but so am I, and I've been with women. It happens. He knows damn well that whatever he sleeps with, male or female, that he's got to use protection. Still, I'm wondering. I don't think anything's happened yet but they're becoming pretty physically affectionate. When you're a teenager (or even when you're grown) such things can get out of hand. I think part of it comes from the fact that both of them have been neglected a lot and crave affection. They do sleep together sometimes but they're just sleeping, from what I can tell. They snuggle together and watch TV. I've got no problem with that. But Trace mentioned the nightmare scenario of Brendan getting Violet pregnant and it kinda freaked me out. I know they've seen each other nude or partially nude because they change clothes in front of each other. I think they may have taken baths together while I'm gone. I'm getting a little nervous about leaving them unsupervised for long periods of time. Wondering if I should say anything to Brendan at this point, or just leave it alone.

Tricky situation.Gentle intervention would be my suggestion.Don't want to alienate your little tyke,but sexuality being as it is,things can get out of hand.My other thought on this would be,that often those that have been neglected,crave love/something to love.Often young girls think that a baby would just be a wonderful thing to have to love/love them.But children are a HUGE responsibility,and not one to be taken lightly. On the other hand,one of my dearest friends is gay,and I would not think twice about undressing/changing in front of him.Sometimes we swap accesssories.And there is nothing of a sexual nature between us.I always kinda thought we'd grow old together,just 2 old ladies,with perverse senses of humor,laughing at life. I think talking to your child would be the best option,just be honest,and gentle,"I was a little worried about--------".We can't live our kids lives for them,they will be who they are,but guidance along the way doesn't hurt anyone,and is usually well recieved,if they know it comes in a loving manner.Good luck.

Yes, Max is a he. I'm not sure what breed. He was found climbing the outside wall of a friend's house, so we have no idea where he came from. However, I once saw a PBS show on Siberian cats, and they all looked just like Max.

I agree with Cat--be gentle and mention it. It sounds like he's had a lot of experiences, but that not all of them were good for him, and to remind him to take it easy wouldn't be a bad idea. On the other hand, I have a lot of gay friends that I curl up with and undress in front of and we're very physical around each other--but nothing would ever come of it. So it could be that way. Does B have any other friends he hangs out with, or just V?

Hey Isolde!That was me,not Cat.But I bet she'd agree with us.

Sheesh. I need to go back to bed. So, yeah, I agree with _Czarina_, who somehow looked like "Cat" to my freshly woken eyes.

No no!don't go back to bed.Come out and play with us!

*groans* I'm supposed to be at work right now. Why aren't I? Because I feel like shit.

In fact, I think I am going to go back to bed. I get to write poetry with great people later on tonight. It will be a goodness.

Brendan just hangs out with Violet. He doesn't have any other friends. He cut himself off from nearly everybody he knew from school when he dropped out. Violet is a pretty alienated kid, herself. They're each other's only real friends. I think they're probably just platonic friends. I don't mind the fact that they undress in front of each other or sometimes sleep together in the same bed. I just don't want it to turn into something that neither of them can handle. Brendan and Violet often live in a fantasy world. They're into some kind of roleplaying game. They call each other by different names and pretend to be brother and sister. They pretend to have magical powers. In a way, I think they need to get out of the house more often. Then again, they're both targets (they dress funny and have "weird" attitudes) and I'd just as soon keep them protected. They play dress-up like little kids. They put on makeup and try on clothes and fix their hair. When I come home, I never know if Brendan's going to look normal or like a refugee from some kind of psychotic glam band. Wouldn't surprise me if Violet just kinda moved in here someday, after breaking away from her parents. People drift apart, especially childhood friends, but I can almost imagine Brendan and Violet growing old together. They'll probably be living in my house when they're fifty, an idea which doesn't especially bother me.

That message was especially long so I did not bother to read its content ...does that men i am less of a man?

My son got kicked out of his apartment and is back home,the thought of him living with me when he's fifty scares the hell out of me.Don't worry about Brendan and Violet,just be glad the poor kid has a friend like her,everybody needs a friend.

I think you are less of a man, Haywood, for bothering to post that pilate's meaningful, interesting statement was too long for you to read Pilate, I think it's really wonderful that B has a friend like V, and hopefully eventually he'll be able to branch out a little bit and make other friends as well, since just being with the same person all the time can be destructive. (I learned this last night, which is why it's coming up so much today). I hope they stay friends for life--I'm still in touch with a lot of my friends from high school, and I'm glad I am, because they've helped me through a lot of hard times.

Pooey to you Haywood.

ah no i got pooeyed!

haywood jabuzzov

i know i'd have loved to have a friend like that when i was 15. my best friends all ended up running away, taking drugs and cutting themselves. i still have pocket knives in my dresser to keep from an old friend. she never asked for them back.

It's good that she never asked for them back, yes? I used to cut myself. That was an ugly time. Luckily, I had a lot of good friends who made me stop. To them I am eternally grateful, although at the time I may not have been very happy with them. Yay anoerixia. I was thin and sliced up like a christmas turkey. Yuck.

I used to know a kid back in school who was a cutter. He was bullied sometimes and had no real friends......not because no one tried to befriend him, but because he just wouldn't let anyone get close. Anyway, we drank together a couple of times, and while drunk, he told me about the cutting and showed me his wounds. I felt pretty creeped out by it. No one should suffer such emotional trauma (but of course, millions of people do). One day the guy dropped out of school and just disappeared. I worried about him for some time afterward. I know that Violet has cut herself before. She was doing it as an occult training technique. She was reshaping her will. She'd resolve not to engage in simple behaviors, things that a person might do every day. For every violation she'd cut her arm or leg. Well, I'm not her Daddy, but she knows that if I ever catch her cutting herself again, I'm gonna put a stop to it. She knows the score. Brendan knows better, too. Sometimes, Violet does call me "Daddy". It's kind of neat. Or unnerving. She seems, to some degree, to accept my authority. But she questions me more than Brendan ever did. Brendan rarely questions me at all. When I tell the kids not to do something, Violet is always the first to ask why. Brendan usually just nods and accepts it. Brendan phoned to ask me if "masturbatory" was really a word. He said it about a dozen times over the phone. I'm not sure I want to know what he's going to do with this new addition to his vocabulary.

Interesting...at least he's consulting you on its validity? I'm glad you care for Violet, most of my friend's parents knew and did nothing. I think it's really cool that you're taking a role here parents refuse to take--that of responsibility.

Interesting...at least he's consulting you on its validity? I'm glad you care for Violet, most of my friend's parents knew and did nothing. I think it's really cool that you're taking a role here parents refuse to take--that of responsibility.

If nothing else, I try to provide her with a safe haven. She can do all kinds of stuff here that her parents won't let her do at home. But there are limits, even here. I would definitely step in and stop her from self-destructive acts. I do care what she does. I also care about what she's capable of talking my kid into. She's a very sweet girl, but does have a slightly manipulative streak when she wants to do something. Anyway, Violet knows that she can come talk to me, or to Trace, anytime. She can tell me all her problems or cry on my shoulder or just hang out. I feed her when she's hungry and have bought her clothes that her folks wouldn't let her have. She's starting to feel like Kid #2. That sounds awful, what you said about your friends's parents knowing and still not caring. That doesn't even sound fucking human. Who could see another person suffer like that and not intervene?

A lot of people, apparently. My friends' parents were odd. "Let her live," they said.

It suddenly hits me that I may have read your post wrong......."most of my friends' parents knew and did nothing". You may be saying that they knew nothing in general. But I took it to mean that they knew about your cutting and did nothing. If you meant the latter, then it's scary as hell. Anyway, I found out during tonight's school lessons that B & V have started writing each other. Snail mail. Letter writing, the dead art. I was really glad to hear it. I spend a lot of time helping Brendan with his writing but I think it's important that he has an outlet where he's NOT corrected for his grammar and spelling. I try my best to praise him as much as possible. His writing is pretty scary at times, but I try to keep my mouth shut when he writes me personal notes. He doesn't have to be corrected 24-7. Still, I've got to play teacher. Violet doesn't. As long as the boy is writing anything, even silly notes to a friend, I'm satisfied. I talked to him, briefly, about the whole sex thing w/ Violet. He admits that they've taken baths together. He swears that there's no sexual attraction in it. He said it feels really good being nude with her but it doesn't get him excited. I trust him. I trust her 80% of the time. But I don't trust teenage hormones worth a shit. He told me they've never kissed, never petted, never made out in any way. They just like taking off their clothes from time to time. What can I say? When the kid's gone, Trace and I tend to lose our clothes, too. But it's different somehow.

i'd probably be worried too, if i were in your shoes. why i worry that she hasn't asked for them back is because i haven't heard from her since june. we hadn't been talking much because she prefers the company of my ex-boyfriend to mine. she knows i can't stand him, but she is dating his best friend and they both know much more about computers than i do. heather is a computer geek. to the extent that all she does is school, harp and computer. i was the first real friend she ever had. i worry about her self-destructive behavior. she likes pain of any sort, it didn't matter whose. she was determined to join the marines, relishing the moment that they'd put her in a room filled with tear gas. i spent hours on the phone with her, trying to help her to take her mind off blood and knives and the internet (when her parents took her off). so sad.

My friend's parents knew about my cutting and did nothing. They were lame individuals.

please don't cut yourself, isolde.

I don't. Did you read the phrases: "when I was in high school" "my friend's parents _knew_"? Cutting yourself is stupid. No one pointed this out to me for a long ass time. Eventually, I had to figure it out myself. Unfortunately, I have a lot of scars to schow for it now. Stupid me. Stupid youths. Today, it is raining. I can't breathe.

I still can't believe that adults knew about your cutting episodes and still did nothing. That just blows my mind. Violet's not even my kid, and if I ever found out that she was cutting herself, I'd do whatever it takes to stop her. The whole cutting thing keeps getting increasingly popular (Brendan says that at his school, there was a whole underground club devoted to it). I wish I could help these people. I feel useless sometimes when confronted with shit like that. I think of all the people who feel unloved. All the people who needlessly torture themselves. It breaks my heart. It's raining here, too. Really hard.

An underground club...that's insane. There were only like two people who cut themselves when I was in high school, and we kind of nodded at each other now and then, but certainly didn't talk or make a club out of it. I don't think either of us mentioned it, ever, we just kind of _knew_. The kids at school all knew about it, it was obvious, though not in the early stages, I suppose. But when it got to blatant wounds all over our arms, it was hard to avoid. All we ever really wanted was attention. At first it was about self control, or that's what we said, and then it turned into a demand for attention, so we made them more and more obvious, more and more in people's faces...I made the decision to stop on my own. My friends were helpful, I suppose, because they urged me to stop and supported me through my rougher times, but the decision had to be made by me alone. It was rough. I really appreciate what you're doing for Violet. I wish that there were more people like you in the world, who actually cared about people like Brendan and Violet. I miss my cats. My christmas lights are on, the walls are illuminated by a big tree of life like the one I had at home.

Yeah, an underground club. It's considered hip in some circles to be a cutter these days. And bulimia's still quite the thing, too. It's a total attention-getting gimmick, and not in the way you're talking about. Totally superficial. Not that these people still don't need help and love and all that stuff, but it's the closet cutters who strike me as the scariest. The people who are doing it because they're hurting, not because Mommy won't give them the keys to the Volvo. Crimson's got some kind of insane story about these cutter kids who popped up on her doorstep once. It was a couple of kids from an annoyingly trendy goth club. They were boasting about who could take more pain. Showing off their self inflicted scars, and all that shit. Crimson called their bluff and set up a pain contest for them. Then she proceeded to beat the shit out of them both. It was a scream. While this was going on, some lawyer friend of hers was hanging around in his underwear, taking his first acid trip, leaping up and down like he was on a fucking pogo stick, screaming all this weird cryptic shit about Waffle House. Sometimes, I wish I could just open up some kind of group home for misunderstood kiddies. Not the normal kind of thing, where everybody's trying to force them to be good citizens. Something infinitely cooler. But I'm doing the best I can just handling the two kids I'm currently dealing with. I've had a little chat with B and V about the whole nudity thing. I'm trying to be as cool as possible, but I'm also having to play Daddy, in a gentle sort of way. Part of me doesn't mind the whole situation. Another part of me is alarmed by it. Whoa. Here comes that quarter-size hail they've been predicting. The ducks in Crimson's back yard are getting the crap hammered out of them.

Yay hail! I love hail. The image of the lawyer was very funny?

yes, i did read that you cut yourself in highschool, not mentioning anything about now. my best friend promised me three times. the first two times she broke it. i haven't seen her since june, so i have no idea if she's keeping her promise to me. sometimes i would punish myself. tell myself that i wasn't good enough to talk to certain people. if a person began talking to someone else when i was there, they obviously didn't want to talk to me. i'd begin crying at the oddest times and be unable to stop. at one time my parents threatened to throw me into a mental hospital. i still have many secrets that i keep so no one will think i'm crazy. i don't talk about clairvoyance or reincarnation or what i see and hear when i'm alone. god, four years ago i ~wanted~ to be thrown into a mental institution. everyone knew it, it was the only rumor i ever heard about myself and the only rumor i ever encouraged.

i was in a nuthouse once. briefly. not because i'm nuts, but because it's the only facility in the state that offered inexpensive testing for a certain medical condition i've got. part of it involved several rounds of major sleep deprivation therapy, so i had to check in & stay a while. i could write a two-hundred pound novel out of that experience. i started hanging out w/ the other people being tested, & also w/ some of the nuts (some of them were drug addicts being locked up to get off phenobarbitol). most of the druggies were epileptics who got hooked on their prescription meds. right down the hall is where they kept the schizos, delusionals, & people who could no longer control their various bodily functions. folks would just come wandering up naked, shit on the floor, & leave again. it was unreal. the zombies--the ones who couldn't control themselves--were mostly all pregnant. they kept getting raped & bearing children, who were promptly taken away from them. they were baby factories w/ the IQ of three-year-olds. the saner people, the druggies, had discovered a survival technique...in the nuthouse, the regular rules no longer apply. you can do ANYTHING...because it's generally assumed by the guards that you're fucking nuts, regardless of what brought you there in the first place. so we'd go totally apeshit, running around in some kind of lunatic frenzy on the lawn. one area of the nuthouse faced a major intersection. we'd tie up our shirts up like straitjackets & line up in a row, doing high kicks like the rockettes, or just start running into each other, gibbering & drooling. we'd come up to visitors & inform them that we were the reincarnation of anyone from king tutankhamen to louis armstrong (there was one chick, though, who really DID think she was the reincarnation of gloria swanson, & went around dressing & acting like a '20s film star). i found out the hard way that almost all of your conversations in a nuthouse are bugged. there's heavy monitoring going on. i discovered this by having a conversation about drugs w/ a druggie. within an hour, we were both being strip-searched, & not delicately. i was handled pretty roughly & it caused me pain. when i told the examiner to ease up a bit, he told me to shut the fuck up & that if i complained, there'd be hell to pay. he also said that nobody would believe me anyway, because i was "just another nut"...despite the fact that i was (more or less) sane. after a while, nobody cares why you're there. a number of folks had arrived just to get medical tests, but started assimilating into the "nut" population. your actions, regardless of how normal they might be, start becoming "symptoms". you have symptoms that you'd like to take a shower, or write a letter to a friend. some people ended up staying there longer than they should have, discovering that a lot of the pressures of life disappear when people regard you as a helpless, incompetent lunatic. some of these folks were pretty damn sane, but quickly learned that wandering around the TV lounge in your pajamas beats the hell out of wandering around the office in a suit.

How are your ducks? I would have paid good money to be a fly on the wall for the episode involving the cutters and the lawyer! I work in a "nut house",and it is a quite interesting job.I in no way find mental illness funny,but I do get a kick out of some of the patients behaviors.Quite entertaining,and sometimes difficult to keep a straight face.

the ducks & the goose appear to be OK. a cold front has hit. for the first time this season, the leaves are actually falling, & there's a slight chill in the air (it's been hot as hell up to this point). actually, i don't find mental illness funny, either. it's serious business. however, there were things that i witnessed that did make me crack up, despite myself. remember, i was institutionalized voluntarily, & for a very brief time. it would be quite a different matter if i'd been sent there by the state, bewildered by my new surroundings. there were moments that weren't fun at all. getting attacked, for instance. one guy thought i was satan, & this paranoid chick thought i was looking at her boyfriend (what boyfriend? where?) & tried to kick my ass. some freaky woman w/ a beard used to threaten me every day, in an attempt to steal my iced tea. it was a weird scene, that's for damn sure.

That sounds pretty much like where I work.The only patients we accept are acutely ill.They are in no way in touch with anything that even resembles reality.Unfortunately,we have really lousey security,and at times I have questioned my sanity in accepting this position.Theses folks can be dangerous,and we have to stay on our toes at all times to keep from being attacked.And often have to intervene between patients,to keep them from being attacked.But it is a fascinating area to work.Generally speaking,I'm glad that the patients are there,cause I know where they are.Its the ones that aren't there that cause me unease.These are people who would whack off heads with an ax,then try to flush them down toilets,cause "the voices" told them to.Before I started there,one patient had been discharged,and was living under a staff members house.How scary is that!Fortunately,my house sits on a cement foundation,so I don't think anyone would fit,but I'm still careful.Gotta go back to work tonight.Its always a surprise to see whats been admitted while I've been off.

There was a big storm last night. It thundered and there was lightening and I thought of hail and ducks. Working for a nuthouse. Wow. That would be interesting. The infamous "they" wanted to put me in the nut house for a while there. Luckily, I avoided it...I don't think I would want to be in an asylum as one of the genuine crazies.

One of my college dorm mates got sent off to an institution. His girlfriend broke up with him and his idea of revenge was to slaughter a bunch of animals. He tortured and killed a bunch of cats (some dogs and a rabbit too, I think). He tortured and killed them, hacked them to pieces, and dumped the whole bloody mess on her parents' doorstep with some kind of note about how "this'll teach the fucking bitch to break up with me". He also made phone calls to her answering machine about how all that innocent animal blood was on her hands because she broke up with him. I never could stand the guy. He gave me the fucking creeps. He wanted to watch me undress at night, which would normally be good news, but it just turned me off. He was a jerk. Serious creep. He used to talk about stupid, violent shit all the time. Fortunately, he wasn't home much. He had frequent dates, not just with this one girl, and I always wondered what kind of woman would really date something like that. That was a long time ago. He's probably done his time in the asylum now, and is back out charming the ladies and killing the animals.....business as usual.

He's probably a serial killer.I have been in the nut ward twice,once my mother had me put in the State hospital(I was there for 3 days before I could see a shrink and convince him I wasn't nuts)The second time,I had a nervous breakdown,and I was nuts.I'm stonger now,and thank God,because I found out the other day that Amee tested positive for trisomy18,they are going to do some tests,on the 10th,but from what Czarina tells me it's not good,and will have to be aborted.I had been looking at baby clothes and was getting pretty excited about the prospect of the new baby.

Um, I'm an idiot, what is trisomy18? I ordered pants today. It's still wet and yucky. I can't imagine anyone torturing animals. It makes me sick just to think about it. A friend of mine a few years ago discovered the mutilated, totured body of her cat, and it really upset me...if it could happen to her cat, it could happen to mine, I thought.

it was wet this morning. LA rain, more like a moist towelette came and laid upon the city. This morning while putting my pants on, I looked at her, practically poking her eyes out with some sort of coloring stick...make up i suppose. Careful with the zipper, nearly had an accident last week, minor skin pinch, could have been worse.Careful with that coloring stick. How surreal would that be..."man gets cock stuck in zipper, while wife simultaneously pokes eye out. Both mysteriously found dead, she with a damp towel on her head, naked on the floor, he hunched over, pants on, look of stale terror on his face." I've got to drink more coffee. Unlike yesterday, today, Im a little more optimistic, yesterday the residual goth in me surfaced while today, the left over punkeryouth wants to cause trouble. As soon as this wineache goes away of course. I'm not going to discuss mutilated animals, the mere thought ruins my day. I need happy people, happy!!!

Trust me!No one wants to be a real patient at the place I work.The patients scare the hell out of me,and I've been doing this kind of work for years.So stay sane,or at least a reasonable fascimile of sane. Trisomy 18 is a genetic disorder,unfortunately,it presents itself in a manner not particularily compatible with life. And please no mutilated animal stories,that makes me want to mutilate. And Patrick,do please be carefull with that zipper,remember what happened in "Something About Mary".

*smiles* I'm getting purple pants! I'm happy about that! PURPLE PANTS! Do you realize how much fun this is going to be?

i have to go shopping today. i have two pairs of workpants. black stretchy that fit "ok" and khaki that fits perfectly. it was the pair of khaki pants that got stained in the wash. the second pair of pants that really really fit me well in years and they're ruined. the other pair of pants that really fit me well has been discontinued from the levi's line. i can't help it if i'm tall and shaped like a boy! i get to go to a poetry reading today!!!

What's the deal with laundromats and white clothes getting these yellowish stains? Pisses me off, especially if it's a brand new item. I think it must be leftover bleach or something that didn't get washed down in the final rinse in the previous wash. Fuckers.

i hear ya man, i got lots of white tees, i think its rust or something, after a while , bleach doesnt work.....

You can buy rust remover,it is made by the same people that make Rit dye's,cheap too.

There's the cutest old Asian woman who works at the laundromat I go to. It's open 24/7/365 and I swear she's there all the time. She wears the gaudiest clothing you've ever seen, and blue & pink eye makeup and bright red lipstick that look like she put it on while riding in the back of a dark truck going 60 over cobblestones, and she stoops, and she's ageless but she's gotta be over 70, and she understands but doesn't speak English, and she's as spry as a 20 year old, and she's gotta smile that would light up a room.

My laundromat is self service. It's a surreal place under a resturant, so it reeks of greasy food. Vut the clothing comes out clean.

i spent an hour talking with members of the mountain writers series. i chatted with maxine scates for a few minutes, had her read a poem that was inspired by one of hers, and she signed the copy of toluca street i bought. a guy from my poetry class told me that he really enjoyed my poetry i shared with the class on monday. i don't know his name. i should be better with names, but i was happy. i'm supposed to listen to a jazz flutist named herbie mann. after i picked up my sister from school and dropped her off at home, i went shopping. i got a pair of black satin jeans, a pair of black parachute parts, a red patterned skirt, a lavender pullover sweater, and a lavander suede purse. i told the saleslady that my sister would probably want to borrow the skirt. when i got home, my sister wanted to borrow the skirt. she almost bought the same purse when she went school shopping with her friend christie.

Do none of you OWN a washing machine? We have a few laundromats (all do it yourself), and most rentable houses and apartments come with whiteware. Mum knows a woman who moved to New Zealand and couldn't figure out why we had lines on poles in our backyards. Then her dryer broke. And she had to hang out her washing. Theres nothing like the smell of sun dried clothing. In the paper the other day there was a photo of an ambulance driver (talking) and a policeman grinning. She was explaining to him how an autistic man had come in to the emergency room at the hospital with a sore foot, then when told to go home jumped in the ambulance and drove it about half an hour out of the city to his mum's house. They didnt press charges.

Nope. I didn't have one in California because we didn't have enough water. (We collected rain water in 2,500 gallon cistern). I don't have it here because...I don't. I'm glad. The housemate would fuck it up anyway. The new house, the one I want, that house has a washer and dryer. And a clothesline. I like clotheslines.

hopefully, we'll eventually end up w/ a washer & dryer. but for now, we have to do the whole laundromat thing. we've stopped patronizing the laundromat we live closest to. our clothes come out of that place seriously fucked up & the management changes every few weeks. the man who runs it now is a total jerk. my husband won't do business w/ him because the guy's always cutting down southerners.

i've been to a laundromat only once in my life, because my dad wanted to wash the rags he uses when working on the car and my mom would kill him if he used the washing machine at home.

So, your dad is the reason our clothes get messed up.

well...don't go crying to me about it!!! i've only changed the oil in my car once! (but i will again once another month rolls by.) and it's not my fault that you guys don't have washing machines. when's the last time you washed your clothes in milwaukie, anyway?

The laundromat that Crimson's talking about is terrible. They've got a bad habit of spilling bleach into the colored clothes. The clothes often come back in several colors, with big splotches where the bleach hit them. I went out with my kid yesterday, just hanging out. After nightfall, we were walking together in this shabby area of town. Brendan pointed into a deserted alley and told me that he used to sleep there a lot. The narrow alley was covered in broken glass and smelled like piss. I thought I saw a rat scampering around in there. I was overwhelmed by emotion, some kind of fierce protective urge. I couldn't believe that this kid was so unwanted by his parents that he had to sleep in a place like that. I pulled Brendan close to me, right there on the street, and told him that he'd NEVER have to live like that again. He's at home now, asleep in bed. Safe and warm. But how many other kids are out there sleeping in the streets? Brendan is so sweet and good-hearted. I can't believe his parents cut him loose just because they weren't willing to take care of him. It makes me want to give the kid the best life possible just to make up for it.

It sounds like you've started doing just that..the thought of resorting to the street is terrible. I remember sometimes I used to sleep in the woods, when my mother kicked me out or I didn't want to come home, but it's different somehow than resorting to a street covered in broken glass.

I've slept in the woods, too. I did it for a while after getting molested by one of my teachers at school. I felt like I was going totally insane and I couldn't handle being there anymore. My parents weren't around because it was a boarding school. I ran off and hid out in the nearby woods. I was hungry, cold and scared half to death. I just couldn't take being in that place one day longer. I was in over my head. Thankfully, my father made a rare appearance and rescued me, withdrawing me from the school altogether. Violet's parents are having to leave town for the weekend, maybe a bit longer. In a completely surprising move, they're allowing the girl to stay here at my place while they're out. Brendan's absolutely giddy about it. It's cute. He's so excited. He's got all this time to hang out with his best friend. I wish I could get that excited about shit. I feel jaded about so many things in life. Bored by it all. Been there, done that. Brendan's waking me up, though. I can't help but pick up some of his weird inner joy. It's a good thing.

It should be interesting to have her there for a few days...sleeping in the woods is a goodness when one does it on intention. Most of my woods episodes were caused by outside forces, and running, and just collapsing somewhere. But there's something very peaceful about curling up on a pile of moss somewhere next to a river and just sleeping. I always wake up feeling like I've really slept. It snowed here last night, I was woken and saw little falkes drifting down from the sky. It was very nice. I'm working part time at the PO now, I hate it so much, and today is a rest day. I'm kind of doing stuff out of my house now. I dont' know what I'm doing anymore. Maybe I'll stay in California when I go back, maybe not.I don't know.

Just curious, Isolde, what prompted your move to Vermont? Are you from there? Just always wanted to try Vermont?

It's a long story. It basically goes like this. One day, I woke up and said: "I want to move." My father said: "great, I'll finally have the house to myself and not have some lamo living there all the time." I said: "Oh, ok," and bought a ticket to the first state that looked cheap. Which actually was New York, but I decided I didn't want to be in New York, and would stay with a friend in VT for a while. Then, the friend said "no, you can't stay here." I cried and slept in a tavern for a few nights. Then, I found a shitty job, a shitty house, and a shitty housemate. I'm fixing the shitty house and roomate first, then working on the shitty job. I think it will be straightened out by winter.

i'd have a hard time doing that. my parents sometimes threaten to kick me out, but they won't let me just move out, even if it would be easier. lucky isolde.

when i was a teenager, my parents moved out on me. at sixteen, i was out of school, & the folks lived up to their promise...they said that the day i graduated, they were going to move away. i was the last kid. my folks were ecstatic to finally be done w/ raising kids. to celebrate, they threw away every plastic dish in the house & bought glass & crystal replacements, to symbolize that there were no kids left to fuck up their stuff. i was left on my own. i ended up rooming w/ a 15-year-old, who was also out of school. we got into tons of delightful trouble together, including a few close calls w/ the law. funny thing...the folks celebrated the end of their childrearing years too early. my siblings have dumped kids on them & they've got kids running around everywhere now, breaking their nice crystal goblets.

I'm also older than you, pez. I think if you were my age, your parents would have no problems with letting you move either. Sounds like fun, Crimson. When I was in high school, I thought I couldn't wait to leave the house. So I lived there for seven more years. Doh. It's about to rain or snow or something.

I moved out soon after graduation. It was weird, because by then, my parents were dead. The day after graduation, I woke up with the most isolated and lonely feeling. I realized the full extent of my freedom, and it wasn't as much thrilling as it was hollow and lonesome. There was nobody left to care what I did anymore. I used my dad's house as a home base and I hit the road. When I came of age, I sold the house, an idiotic move on my part, and never went back. Emotionally speaking, there was nothing for me to go back to.

She had her tests for that trisomy18 well one of them,it's a boy,they did some kind of ultra-sound that was 3-D and two doctors,both checked it out and said he looks perfectly fine,they could see his fingers opening and shutting,perfect hands,still I wish they woild have done the amniocentesis,that would have proved things 100%.I wonder if she just chickened out?She said that after seeing the ultra-sound,they said she didn't need it,so I'll just try to think he's alright.

J, I really do hope that everything works out okay.

wow. i just wish my parents wouldn't fuck with my head the way they do. i do my best, and i hardly have the time to be a teenager. work, school, chores, homework. and picking up my little sister from speech etc. sometimes i wish i hadn't wasted my highschool years feeling sorry for myself.

I'm just kicking back at Crimson's place for a few minutes. I've got two kiddos to watch now, my own boy and his friend, Violet. Violet's folks called me up and asked me if I could take care of her for a bit longer than planned. Might be several weeks. This could get interesting. The trick will be getting Violet to go to school. Skipping school is kind of a talent of hers. It'll be especially compounded because my own kid doesn't have to go to school. She'll want to stay home with him and hang out, which is understandable, but I've got to be sure she gets to school. Violet knows that Brendan's got to do his lessons in the evenings. Otherwise, the kids are pretty much free to hang out. They seem to be having fun so far. I took them shopping this morning at about 4:00 A.M. and afterward, we all went for a little walk together. Violet is already kind of assimilating into our little family. It's kind of weird. Her parents have always kept a tight rein on her, but I think they're suddenly realizing that THEY could use a vacation from parenting and vice versa. They're suddenly letting her do all kinds of shit that they normally wouldn't. Maybe they realize that it's getting harder to control her so tightly, now that she getting close to being 15. They've started letting her wear makeup, which they never have before. Today, there's another one of those town festivals going on, like the kind Crimson wrote about at the beginning of this thread. I might take the kiddies out there, if they wanna go. They might have fun dressing like total freaks and descending upon the general public. Then again, they're both pretty reclusive. We'll see.

Several weeks, hunh? This could be very interesting indeed. I hope they don't skip out on her. That would be lame. I feel like a freak today. I've been trying to look a little more feminine. I'm wearing clothes my size and a tank top. This is very odd, I'm not sure I can handle it. Everyone is looking at my breasts, instead of my face, now. I don't like this. I'm just trying to look a little more like a girl and getting a response I didn't expect. I'm calling the county recorder in Mendocino (I was born there) to apply to change my last name. This should be interesting. I don't know what to do about my first name now, but at least my last name will be better. I'm fixing this one step at a time.

Crimson's thought about changing her name. She's not real wild about the name she was given by her adoptive parents. As for me, the only part of my name that I think is questionable is my middle name. My last name's pretty ethnic, but I can live with it. I'm hanging out at Crimson's again. The kids are here, but they've wandered off to the barbeque joint together to get some dinner. They've been good today. Not that I've ever had any problems with them. It's just that they've been especially sweet today. I'm a little nervous about Violet's parents. They're acting weird. They've called several times asking if we could extend her stay. Of course, I'm glad to keep the girl here. But I think she's getting slightly nervous herself and I don't know what to say to her if she asks about it. Her folks just keep saying that they're visiting relatives out of state, but I'm not sure that I buy it. While I've got Violet here, I've also got to be sure to take care of Trace. I don't want to seem too preoccupied by the extra roommate. I'm sure that you look just fine in your girly clothes. Crimson's been dressing kinda femme too lately, something that doesn't happen too often. Man, she's got this clingy fur collared shirt that's just amazing. It's damn near enough to make a man turn straight.

*smile* I'm wearing a dark gray tanktop and purple pants. Geek boy and I just went and say american history x. It's 4:30 in the morning, and wow. Crazy stuff. I realized I'm better at being sociable dressed like this, it gives me self confidence. But I don't like the way some people look at me... I hope everything ends up ok with Violet, this extended stay is making me worry.

The only outfit I have that makes people look at me funny is this fetish getup that a former lover got me. It makes me look like I just strolled out of a leather bar. It's damn near embarrassing, but I break it out every now and then for a chuckle. Trace loves the damn thing and asks me to put it on sometimes. I'm a little worried about the whole Violet thing, too. But she seems to be rolling with it well. I think she's still happy to have Mom and Dad off her back for a while. We'll keep her here as long as necessary. No problem. I don't know what her folks are up to. I don't think it's any kind of casual visit with relatives. Anyway, I've actually found myself becoming a bit protective of Violet, too. In some ways, she may as well be our other kid. She gets along well with Trace. They sat up last night playing chess while Brendan and I watched TV. It was a quiet family scene, something I'm really coming to appreciate these days.

It sounds like a nice family you have there. I'm glad that you're paying attention to Trace, too, and making sure he doesn't feel left out or anything. I hope that Violet's parents do come back, because even if they're lame, they are her parents, and it would be really shitty of them to just leave her.

I think they'll come back. I don't think they've totally abandoned the kid. But they're pretty weird people and it's hard to figure out their motives. They seem to be easing up on Violet a lot. They also seem to be suddenly realizing that they've got a life outside the Mommy and Daddy track. They're hitting some sort of weird adolescent phase of their own. I got a call from them and they said they'd just mailed down some money to help out with the groceries, which is a nice gesture. I'm trying to plan a mid-week date with Trace. I'll take him out somewhere nice for dinner. The kids can hold down the house by themselves for a couple of hours. I want to do something special for him this week. He's been such a sweet, patient soul.

You are so sweet.

ain't he, though? my husband i took the kids out flea marketing. that way, pilate got to spend a little time at home alone w/ trace. brendan & violet are great to go shopping with. they had a blast today, looking at tons of tacky-ass shit. the kids definitely have an eye for kitsch--& it's a drag hitting the fleas w/ anybody who doesn't. i also re-stocked my own booth. the kids are busy hanging out w/ my pet rodents. that's something brendan & i have in common...we're both rodent fans. rodents rock. i spent too much money today. name me a day when i don't. gotta crash. i've been up for a long damn time. but i'll wait until the kids get picked up. i overheard violet saying that she was hungry. i might fire up something for them. give them some purina kid chow before sending them home.

*smile* Flea markets are so much fun, aren't they? Food is good, maybe I should make myself some of that there stuff. My friend Mary has pygmy hamsters. I like them because they're clean and don't shed and I can hold them and they're so nice...

food, flea markets, & rodents. three things that make the world go around. i've had a lot of different rodents since i moved into this place. i think i prefer gerbils. mice can be hyper (but sweet), rats can stink, hamsters can have odd personalities...but i've never had any problems w/ gerbils. actually, i've had really good luck w/ all my critters. it's funny how unique they all are. very individualistic, quite intelligent, w/ their own quirks & preferences. my husband just fed the rat some fritos. rats really groove on fritos, for some reason. flea markets are the shit. they really are. i found some of the coolest damn flea markets on my last trip to the gulf. huge, open-air flea markets. they don't have them like that around here. but i do live in a major flea market area. the tourists really like them, so more flea markets keep popping up, which is great. the proceeds from my own flea market booth often end up getting spent in other flea markets, which is probably counterproductive, but what the hell.

Oh well. Fritos, hunh? That's interesting. I'll keep it in mind should I ever visit you...

there used to be a family next door, three kids and about fifty cats (yes, i'm exaggerating, but they always had kittens around). one of the cats was orange and named cheeto (he liked cheetos). another was named santa, and the oldest cat was named kitten. there was angel and her daughter, angel baby.

Antigone, your cat has a big nose.

meow. No cat can have a nose too big...all the more moistness on your face in the morning.

"rudolph, the wet nosed kitten.." somehow that doesn't work. i'll have to work on the lyrics.

Now here is a beautiful animal

He is beautiful. I should scan in some pictures of my cats so you can all admire. Anyway. I like poodles, for some reason. I think it's because tey are small and non-threatening to me, even though I know they have tempers just like other dogs.

i always imagined I would meet the perfect man and then I would find out he owned a poodle. not a cool lookin poodle like Cat has but a shaved and buffed and beribbon'd poodle. ugh.

*shudder* I guess anyone who's perfect has to have some hidden quality to hate...i mean, really.

i could punt that fucker for 3pts 45 yards out.....sorry Cat, poodles annoy me incessantly.... why don't you let us see the rest of the site sweetheart...is that where you stash the nakey pics?

I was a poodle-hater before my ex gave me my little baby as a birthday present. I still can't believe he foisted me with an animal I'd never shown any interest in owning, but that's just one of the reason's he's now an ex. Anyways now I'm a total poodle junkie...they are smart and can be trained not to be yappy, they have wool not fur so they don't shed, and they're sooo affectionate. I'd love to let you see all the nakey pics on the site, Patrick. In fact, I'd like to see them myself.

Indeed, so would we all. How have you been, Cat? I haven't seen you lately...

Wouldn't you now...

Here's Cat nearly naked

Come on, she's not even a blonde! In case you missed it folks...My baby was making a guest appearance on Antigone's site.

Antigone, you fucked up the scrabble game. you only need to join it once, ok? try again.

Cat, you're the one on the far left...

Oh eat my pantie crust, Bitchface.

cat, your poodle has the exact same coloring as sylvie. does she (i'm assuming) sortof glint in the light?

Here's Cat again. She's just waking up in the morning...

Where's the scrabble stuff hidden anyhow?

*snort*

I think Moet is lovely, Cat. What breed of fuzzy black rat is he again? :-P

I didn't realise cats could suffer from Downs Syndrome until I saw yours.

Yeah, my cat has an 80 IQ... Your point?

The only time your cat comes close to an 80 IQ is when it's sitting on your lap.

Are you calling me a smartass?

*snort* I do believe so.

would you cut that snorting out........you need a tissue dear/

For the past two days, I've choked on my lunch while reading posts here. So far today, I haven't. I came real close with Cat's awesome snappy comeback.

i think im gonna swallow my tongue.

I laughed aloud at that exchange, I must say. And no, Patrick dearie, I won't.

do vetrinarians have a dress code?????

I'm Rick James, bitch!