people try to put us d-down
05.18.04 @ 10:41 p.m.
I updated the cast page, which I've been ignoring. But then Fawn made me feel like a stupid girl (which I frequently am, but one might know that I get righteously indignant over certain things. Townshend. Other boys I may or may not like. Hence my usual reticence.) The more people that I know (or might eventually know) in real life that read this site make me more cautious about what I say, which I hate to do. But then, there's always the locked individual entry option, but I'm reluctant to take that.
I hate embarassment, which is probably a major source of my shyness. Feeling stupid, seriously stupid and not just "hurrr," is one of the worst feelings in the world for me. So I avoid it as much as possible and thus avoid a lot of social interaction.
But I don't want to degenerate into self-pitying and self analysis. I do it too often and I'm sure it's less than entertaining.
Bonnie will be gone soon, which is good, because I had dreams last night about how wonderful it would be to have her moved out and have the house uncluttered. Also, after a long discussion with Martha last night about the appearance of dead loved ones in dreams, Twiggy and Billy, dogs who have died, appeared in my dream. I gave Billy a fierce hug and Twiggy was just present. Also, some blatant symbolism was present that both distresses and amuses me, but it is perhaps indiscreet to say. Two people I know who are having some friction between them, one who is convinced the other is gay and is pressuring them to come out despite no real indication that this is the case and a motherfucking closet. A closet.
Ena was gone this afternoon when her friend Roxy showed up. Actually, Roxy had been waiting outside and then asked to come in after I'd been home a while. I would have asked her in earlier, but didn't recognize her in her car. Roxy would have been gone before Ena came home, but she and I fell into discussion about life with dogs, as she brought her border collie mix with her. Sweet dog. I miss having a dog so much. I'm thinking of making a real, honest effort to learn handling this summer and really get into show.
I'm still so depressed about Billy. I can forget for long periods of time, but it still hurts to think about him and the fact that he's really, truly gone and that there's nothing I can do to make my dad happy again. Not the way that his successes with Billy made him happy.
The fates screw us over again. (I'm still irrationally bitter about the disappearance of the lovely Who Boy.)
I was just about to retreat on this low note, but I just remembered what kept me from doing homework this evening: Alice Cooper has a syndicated evening radio show and one of the Eugene stations carries it. OMFG, it's so great. Alice Cooper is so funny. I love it. He's also very accomodating with fans, as some bizarre woman called him this evening and would not let him go, even saying that she'd slept with him once and (jokingly? Who knows) suggesting that he was the father of her child. She just kept saying how much she loves his show.
Okay, I'm happy because he played "My Generation" and then "Fat Bottomed Girls" by Queen, and much excellent classic rock.
This is the week of completely unashamed Who Love, sparked by our viewing of The Kids Are Alright last Friday night and reinforced by darling Pete's birthday tomorrow. I might actually get in gear with writing the long two part story based on Quadrophenia and The Who Sell Out. ("Sea & Sand" and "I Can't Reach You.")
And fuck anyone who tries to make me feel less that blissful about it.
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
