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ugh. been a while. been busy. been fixing things. been propping up.

that's something i remember from first year, my literature and psychoanalysis course (which i shouldn't have been taking in 1st year - a 3rd year english course, but I'M SMARTTE DAMMIT) and the phrase "propping up" - i wish i knew more than one simple year of german so i could read Freud texts as he wrote them...though james strachey did a mahvellous job of running through all the big F's works, "ich" and "id" are not one in the same...

propping up.
propping against.
propping.
disavowal.

my hair is back to being teenaged and wild. it was mousy reddy brown for such a good long stretch, and i just had to go and ruin it by making it flaming bright pinky poppy red. damn me! now people look at me like i'm a trouble maker or a squeegee kid without enough loonies to buy more tattoos and piercings, but really? i'm just a dorky dumpy girl in jeans, a hawaiian shirt, a "hole through my face" and bright red hair. not a punk. a dyke, sure. you can see that one a mile away. although funnily enough, some can't!

i'm babbling. this is what happens when i don't write, either to people or diary pages staring at me. FEED ME WITH BLAB! they say.

i played my gee-tar for pride. saturday morning under a cloudy sky, i strummed out "here comes the sun" while Ricardo sang out of tune, emotional and tired. the sun didn't really come out until we played an original, "suck my dick." oh shit, i'm going to get more google hits for that.

hand+job
blowjob
gyno+exam
on+my+molars
sorethroat+from+blowjob

damn.

i'm filling out an online application for a student loan. i should be out of school by now...do you think they will notice? i want money. gimme. i need to go to ikea and buy a blurgenhufen.

the parade stank this year. stank of pauses and false starts, and not standing in a good enough spot for pictures of stanky floats. it stank of me being too tired to stand any more. too broke to enjoy. too impatient to stand in line for beer gardens. too sophistimacated to drink lukewarm beer out of plastic cups for $4 a go.

too old? too lesbian! too domesticated! oh no! i need to buy myself a black sportsbra and some jean shorts, some running shoes and wraparound sunglasses, and then, maybe then, fingering my gold chain necklace and the watch i won at the golf tournament, maybe then i'd be able to love pride again.

end communications. woo.