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I'm all excited. I get to move out of this flat place to a place with hills and water. Yes, and I get to live in a yurt, with a vicious dominatrix for a neighbor. She's so cruel, but I'm so mild. Ouch.
Only a couple more months around here, tie up some loose ends, chase some people down the alleys, that kind of thing,...
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smile
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Note to self: do NOT spend all day trying to find a friend on the computer. Find one outside. The sun is out.


VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
jovia:
i'm excited that you already know you look strange with bras on your head. let me know if you change your mind. i think my bras would look nice on your head.
johnsonboy:
I don't have a problem with it. My head has enough corners to fill a bra or two out respectably, But I wouldn't go outside that way. I'm a little too shy for that. Around the house is a different matter.
Underwear of all sorts is really one of my favorite things. If there was some way to arrange such a thing, I'd be there for you. Plus, I would separate the colors for you and use the right amount of everything.
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p.s. Ooops! missed church....again. blush
godess_akasha:
What is it you're not quite used to?
johnsonboy:
the whole idea of meeting people you can see pictures of but can't see.
It's exciting but new. To me at least it's a very new idea.
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Somedays I wake up and it doesn't feel shitty. Wow.
maybe I can find someone to take out for dinner and a couple drinks.
the flowers and trees are bloomin' everywhere. That's a lot of ovaries to have to deal with.
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Lately I've been wondering why the only people who want to hang out with me are a) more boring than me or b) hooked up with someone else.

.
I thought moving to the city would improve my social life, but I guess there's more to it than just being surrounded by millions of people. I'm as much a misfit here as I was in...
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hermetica:
You make being a hermit sound like a bad thing.

Versimilitude in regards to what, by the way..?
johnsonboy:
Making things seem real.
I've always made the best of being a hermit, but it seems like, just as if I was a postal clerk or town drunkard, when I want to try something different the transition is at best temporary. It just seems weird walking past crowds of happy people and having no desire to talk to them.
There's a fine line between being a hermit and being a snooty elitist, it seems to me.
But maybe what I really need to do is learn to be satisfied with life as it is. Seems unamerican though.


[Edited on Feb 19, 2005 6:26PM]
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Of course, it was all about sex. I was in a vulnerable spot and she figured that out then started inventorying my place to get the most possible stuff. Lucky the laptop was too big to shove in her bag or it would be gone too.
So she sits in jail.
I wander around town feeling hard inside.
How not to be vulnerable without becoming...
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sloane:
Wow, thank you... blush
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I walked out on open mike night. It used to be my favorite night of the week. But no more.
I had an item in the paper, but no byline. Getting paid makes it OK.
Prose is so much more responsible than poetry.
Stopped at a bar for a beer. had two. Is everyone on crack these days or is it just poor manners? I'm...
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celainen:
hi. confused good for you with getting published. interesting question wrt how to know who's lying. truth is, you can't know. whether it's your fault or not, since you're asking for opinions, i say, fool me once, shame on you. fool me twice, shame on me. so, you were raped. not your fault. interesting how you so parallel sex-rape victims, who also often wonder/think it was their own fault. in a way, that is my world too.
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light rail, school, light rail, school.
People who want my blood.

St. Valentine's Day.
A mirror with nothing to reflect.
Then I look in it.

Getting ready to stand in the rain.
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I realize nobody really cares what I think. this knowledge is the same as growing up. I have never been able to fathom real life. I am best suited to be a hunter/gatherer perpetually on the verge os starvation, but making up songs as I go. This is not much of a carer option these days but I've tried to make a go of it....
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