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I don't belong here. And I will not stay.
"Just what he needs. Another hole." |
2.21.01 ~11.18PM (link) I've found a place to go. If all works out, I will be in Ft. Lauderdale within about a month. Unfortunately, there are some people I don't want to leave. I really am sorry, but my own sanity has to come first. I feel trapped here, and it's killing me. I can't seem to get anything done. The changes in my self also seem to require a more external manifestation. I had a good time in Florida, met some nice people; it's nice to look at. I need green; there's nothing but concrete and dying trees badly trimmed for the convenience of power lines here. There are the most beautiful, twisted old-looking trees there of a kind I'd never seen before, with these vines that hang down and turn into new trunks if allowed to touch the ground; If left unchecked, the things will just grow into a huge wall of tree. I want one. There is music there, and art, and a diffuse kind of sunlight that doesn't blind me and burn all the plant life to dead brown. For all the things I should hate about the place, I like it, and the simple paradox appeals to me, and goes with my tendency to do everything backwards. And so I'm going. As soon as I can. Job or no, housing or no, and I'll figure things out when I get there. I've never been one to plan, and they always end up going wrong, anyway.
2.26.01 ~5.10PM (link) I'm pretty much broke at the moment, moving halfway across the country very soon, have no place to live or work there, and left my current job early today, which brings me back to the beginning of this sentence. So what do I do when I get home? Sit and figure out why this template isn't displaying properly at 800x600. So there you are, K. And it was completely my own dumb oversight. You can gloat now, but be gentle. 2.26.01 ~8.57PM Okay, now it's fixed. And I still don't have a house or job.
2.27.01 ~6.43PM (link) New piercings recently. I've been talking about getting verticals done into, though not through, my earlobes for something like four years now, and never got around to it. I still haven't seen it done this particular way, and figured it was probably safe to go through with it. The overall effect is that there are beads hanging straight down from my lobes with no apparent origination. I'm really happy with the way they've turned out. Oddly, the biggest bit of satisfaction is that so few people have taken notice of them, and that those who have took so long. I've never gotten these for shock value and take some pride in the fact I've received compliments from several people who would normally find them rather distasteful. And the idiots telling me I've ruined my face are few and far between. Now: how to deal with drunk queens who think I look like I'm from Easter Island. . . .
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