Yoyo. Thanx for all the nice comments about my writing, i'm glad you guys enjoy it. 
And Fishsauce, I will definitely have to check out your litmag. As for all of the comments about art/the artist, I guess I should specify...I don't mean that you have to be born as an artist in its entirety. I mean that you do have to be born with a sort of gifted perception to move other people. This is why people who are schizophrenics, mentally ill, or on some sort of drugs make the best art; because they see the world in a way that normal people can't. And life experience plays a factor too. I know lots of stuck up rich girls at my school who have excellent grammar and mechanics, but they have never really lived life on their own yet, so their stories are about proms and quarterback boyfriends. I can tell you about bombs, cryogenic capsules, mail order brides, lesbian sex...hell! There's so much weird shit that has made me who I am. But anyway, grammar and form is very important, obviously...I just think that you need to do a certain amount of actual living and interacting with the world and a unique way to not sense things empirically to be a good writer.
Claudia's response made me happy. It's true. I don't settle for mediocrity. Not in life, not in any of the arts, not in love. I don't tend to go for someone unless i'm seized by strong emotions for them. I know it seems like I have 5,000 crushes in my journal sometimes, but it takes me a very long time to like someone and even longer to tell them. **Sigh** I'm still all fucked up over the last week, so much shit hit me at once. This isn't made any better by the fact my best friend called me last night, told me she saw my ailing dad at Walgreens back home and that he truly IS dying; he was buying medicine as that...
I called him to tell him Happy Birthday last night. I wish things would have never turned out this way between us. I want to love him, I want us to be father and daughter...but so much shit has gone down that there will always be a distance between us that can never be bridged. And I am still filled with so much bitterness as to what he's done that I sometimes feel nothing about the fact he's dying. This makes me feel like an evil bitch...I want to love him...but he doesn't love me, so why bother getting attached? Guess i'm no better than those girls that just fuck you up and use you because they don't want to get "attached." In fact, i'm 12,000 times worse than them because my father is dying and I don't want to try to love him...he's my DAD!
But all of the chaotic rage burst forth again last night when I totally humiliated Tanya's baby's daddy. We were on the phone and he kept saying in the background, "I lick Tanya's coochie, hurr hurr hurr" which really pisses me off because he acts like i'm this big horny villanous lesbian that just plots ways to get my best friend to sleep with me. So then Tanya had to go feed the baby and Bobby got on the phone to start shit with me. Big mistake.
"Yo." -Bobby
"Could you PLEASE not act like a FUCKING idiotic asswipe by reiterating the fact that you lick my best friend's crotch? Thank you, you dumb dick." -Me
"You bi--" -Bobby
"Oh what? What? Sorry, I can't hear you. Aren't you supposed to be in jail? Why aren't you in jail? I hope you pay for everything you've ever done to her. I hope they rape you up the ass SEVERELY and that you LIKE IT, and that they do it to you once for every time you've hit her, you shrivel dick." -Me, laughing bitterly
**The phone hangs up**
Always running headfirst into frays...always running into battle and away from emptiness.
And Fishsauce, I will definitely have to check out your litmag. As for all of the comments about art/the artist, I guess I should specify...I don't mean that you have to be born as an artist in its entirety. I mean that you do have to be born with a sort of gifted perception to move other people. This is why people who are schizophrenics, mentally ill, or on some sort of drugs make the best art; because they see the world in a way that normal people can't. And life experience plays a factor too. I know lots of stuck up rich girls at my school who have excellent grammar and mechanics, but they have never really lived life on their own yet, so their stories are about proms and quarterback boyfriends. I can tell you about bombs, cryogenic capsules, mail order brides, lesbian sex...hell! There's so much weird shit that has made me who I am. But anyway, grammar and form is very important, obviously...I just think that you need to do a certain amount of actual living and interacting with the world and a unique way to not sense things empirically to be a good writer.
Claudia's response made me happy. It's true. I don't settle for mediocrity. Not in life, not in any of the arts, not in love. I don't tend to go for someone unless i'm seized by strong emotions for them. I know it seems like I have 5,000 crushes in my journal sometimes, but it takes me a very long time to like someone and even longer to tell them. **Sigh** I'm still all fucked up over the last week, so much shit hit me at once. This isn't made any better by the fact my best friend called me last night, told me she saw my ailing dad at Walgreens back home and that he truly IS dying; he was buying medicine as that...
I called him to tell him Happy Birthday last night. I wish things would have never turned out this way between us. I want to love him, I want us to be father and daughter...but so much shit has gone down that there will always be a distance between us that can never be bridged. And I am still filled with so much bitterness as to what he's done that I sometimes feel nothing about the fact he's dying. This makes me feel like an evil bitch...I want to love him...but he doesn't love me, so why bother getting attached? Guess i'm no better than those girls that just fuck you up and use you because they don't want to get "attached." In fact, i'm 12,000 times worse than them because my father is dying and I don't want to try to love him...he's my DAD!
But all of the chaotic rage burst forth again last night when I totally humiliated Tanya's baby's daddy. We were on the phone and he kept saying in the background, "I lick Tanya's coochie, hurr hurr hurr" which really pisses me off because he acts like i'm this big horny villanous lesbian that just plots ways to get my best friend to sleep with me. So then Tanya had to go feed the baby and Bobby got on the phone to start shit with me. Big mistake.
"Yo." -Bobby
"Could you PLEASE not act like a FUCKING idiotic asswipe by reiterating the fact that you lick my best friend's crotch? Thank you, you dumb dick." -Me
"You bi--" -Bobby
"Oh what? What? Sorry, I can't hear you. Aren't you supposed to be in jail? Why aren't you in jail? I hope you pay for everything you've ever done to her. I hope they rape you up the ass SEVERELY and that you LIKE IT, and that they do it to you once for every time you've hit her, you shrivel dick." -Me, laughing bitterly
**The phone hangs up**
Always running headfirst into frays...always running into battle and away from emptiness.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
"Goddamn, that's one wacky game show."