Monthly Archives: September 2009

i am officially not ready for…

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*the cold
*endlessly getting soaked
*unsafely riding my bike without my glasses because they’re so covered in droplets as to be un-useable
*cold toilet seats
*spending all my money on heating billz yet still being cold all the fucking time.

yet, it’s here. it’s SEPTEMBER. boo! well, i haven’t turned on my furnace yet and i’d like to wait at least another month. i turned it on halfway through october last year but that’s only because i got sick.
travelling last week has made me want to go everywhere. i’ve got a few schemes hatching, but realistically, they probably won’t go anywhere. i want to go places.

got a letter from prison from a felon whom i am close with–a dude from a wealthy supportive family. he traveled the world on his parents’ dime before he was locked up. now he’s in prison & has been for years, for crimes that were 100% his choice to commit–not things he was forced into, as so many people behind bars are. and when he sends me a letter complaining about how he’s stuck in america forever because he’s a felon & most countries don’t allow amerikan felons to visit, i just get angry. i’m not behind bars but i’m not free either. none of us are. i’ve never really left amerika and i hardly even leave pittsburgh and obviously i am not gonna send a letter into prison about how oppressed and un-free i am but i don’t know, it just really pissed me off.

i heard my boss talking shit on me this morning so now i’m on strike. not officially, of course, just in a passive-aggressive way, because as tempting as it was to charge in and yell, “oh yeah? well FUCK YOU” and storm out, i can’t do that.

so i’m still here. thinking about disgusting orange jell-o desserts, about portland oregon, about zines, about people i know who used to be exciting and who are now boring. i’m taking a slide into the boring side of life, myself, and am shocked at how…pleasant it is. WTF? i don’t want to lose my grip on the world or on life. but i am tired of fighting, at the same time. pretty much everyone i know who has gotten boring is just tired of fighting. and i can hardly blame them, even though i miss their old selves.

i really really want to finish the first draft of my nov before the year is up. i need to write about 40 more pages. i’m not inspired at all. but i’ve decided to sit down with it an hour per day, monday through friday. it’s like homework. i was never any good at doing homework. still, it needs to be done. i have things to say that need to get out there & it’s not gonna happen unless i get some real work done. do i have anything else to say? i started this novel in the summer of 2006, that sweaty hopeless summer in philly. it was four pages, written mainly to piss off my girlfriend-at-the-time (it was a cautionary tale about an out-of-control compost pile!) and now it’s about 180 pages. and i just have to keep on going. finishing things is hard, but if i don’t finish then all this work will have been for nothing. i’m tired of that.

empty office, stinky arm pits

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hello. i’ve had a lot to say but not a lot of time or internet access to write it in. i went on a strange midwestern roadtrip two weeks ago & then last week was the g-20 summit in pittsburgh. i didn’t actively protest but i did attend some protests, just to witness this strange moment in pgh history. it was nice to see people out and about; nice to see some new blood; nice to see some old friends.
it wasn’t nice to see the former love of my life running towards the riot cops looking totally crazed. realizing that she was here, in pittsburgh, and didn’t even try to say hi. i don’t know if she saw me, but it was heartbreaking. utterly heartbreaking, but i won’t bore you with the particulars. at least i could comfort myself with the fact that her hair looks completely and genuinely horrible. small comfort, but sometimes it helps.
i’m in the empty office. i want to be at home writing for my book or my zine. but i’m here because our particular corner of the country is experiencing crazy-high winds and the siding blew off my office. well, half of it did, and the other half is flapping in the breeze. i’m waiting for my boss’ handyman to come in. i’m waiting for a lot of things.

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hello! i’m at work, on a day i’m not normally scheduled, my boss is over three hours late but i don’t mind getting paid $12 an hour to sit on my sweet queer ass, printing out stuff from the ACLU web site to mail to various prisoners whose various rights are being violated, getting jittery and jumpy on too much coffee, too much hydrogenated oil. whoo hoo!

lately i’ve been more skittish in traffic than usual. i think it’s because now that bikey is fixed i can go a lot faster than usual, and that coupled with the pot-holey roads of pittsburgh, plus the general indifference of most drivers, seems like disaster is inevitable. i’ve been more afraid and unsure. i feel like being a biker in a city is not unlike endlessly being around a guy who lunges at you like he’s going to punch you and then laughs in your face when you cringe. endlessly, the implied threat of violence, with the ever-present possibility that it could become real.

my boss is here & i gotta go.