Today I moved out of the Dirty House for good. Mara and Krista left at around 3:45am to get Mara to the airport, and I decided against tagging along. It would have been silly for Ristika to come all the way back to my house from balitmore to drop me off and then diddy bop back up past balitmore again on her way home to Jersey... it would have been silly just so I could say goodbye at the same time.

I'm a mushy boy insofar as that I cried when my ladies left. Not bawling or anything, but definatly streams down the cheeks. How big of a geek am I? I couldn't help it, I had such an amazing time this week.

Krista and I came down to the Dirty House, then proceeded down to my folks for a financial pick-me-up as well as to retrieve my car. Of course my car didn't bother to start when we got there (dead battery), so we just hopped in the Krista Mobile and returned back up the Fairfax. I reckon its a good thing we took her car anyway, 'cause its so much easier to parallel park than my Big. Red. Boat.

On our first night out in the city, Krista and I went to Cosi (you'll see that as a developing pattern) for dinner and to celebrate the arrival of my bag of Holiday Greens. We ran into my friend Nuvia, and she was on the prowl for Santa's Good Stuff, too, so we drove around until she saw a dealer on the corner that she knew. Krista and she bonded over the pains of ugly puerto ricans, and we all rolled a festive blunt and walked through Dupont smoking. I couldn't have felt more Gang-Star.

On Christmas Eve Eve I called my friend Markie and we went to his place to hang out. He lives up by the convention center, on 10th and M, and so we ended up taking our Chariot (the G2 Bus) into Dupont after we pregamed with an entire bottle of our friend Jim Bean. Lawdy. Needless to say, the bus ride was particularly drunktastic, as was running into Mark's ex Brandon, who I had met previously. I had actually met Brandon on my own and realized his relationship to Markie via the powers of the Triumvarate. Poor ol' Brandon didn't realize that we have some sort of freak ability to triangulate people on the greater eastern seaboard... he couldn't have known that his exboyfriend's best friend is a SuperTwin.

Anyway, we decide that we're going to go to Cobalt after we find out that Apex is closed for the night (who closes on Tuesday? Ew), and we proceed to get in the middle of the herd. A drunk Maneuver was going to have to be performed to get Ristika, myself, and Markie into the venue... but at the last minute the maneuver had to be aborted as one of us got caught. Defeated, we headed for Cosi....

As luck would have it, Mark noticed a door slightly ajar. Printed on a small sheet of paper taped to the door is "Employee Entrance Only", and we realize its to Cobalt. Without much hesitation or delibaration, we're sneaking in the door and shimmying up the fire escape. As we arrive at the final door into our RetroNight, Mark tells us the game plan: sprint to the center of the club as fast as you can. Stay in the crowd. We may as well have synchronized our watches.

Oh yes, we danced to Step By Step and "The Last Song." No need to even question whether we got in or not! Speaking of synchronizing, I got to synchronize my hips with a cute boy's on the dancefloor... I'll never know his name, but doesn't that just make it better? I was on my way to the bar with Krista and Markie, and the boy pulls me over to him, allowing my cabal to venture further forward. About 20 feet ahead now, Markie looks back and stops Krista... "We've lost one."

It didn't last long. The sheer combined force of the three of us that night was probably too much for most mortal men to stand, 'cause Markie and I shortly discarded him back into the pile of boys.

On our way out, however, Krista broke the heel on her leather boots, and proceeded to throw 'em into the Trash and walk 10 blocks back to Mark's in her bare feet. Atta-Girl! I was soooo proud of my gurl! Anyone FRC enuff to throw their Leather Boots out and highstep their ass golden style through dupont gets props. We earned our Denny's Breakfast at 5am.

The next day Krista and I are preparing to get my Supertwin, Mara, from the airport when we notice that the car is overheating. We had to make the executive decesion to have her come in via the train to Union Station, as we returned home to take my cousin Tabby (tabitha called Tuhbabitha much to her chagrin) vehicle into the city.

Tuhbabitha and Charese came down for new years, and I could talk about it at length, but there is no need to. Tabby was ragging and bleeding through and bein' ultra-snotty. Charese is just so young. Bleh. I can't fuss too much, cause Tabby let us take her car into the city to wait for Mara, who, the poor thing, had a delayed flight as well as less than perfect flight companions.

I want so badly to go into stories or yarns and talk about Mara, but I don't really know how-- she's my supertwin, so knowing my reaction means you prolly know her reaction. Something you Replace that begins with an "H"? What would you put down? In the last game of scattergories we played, we both had "Helium Tank." Thats the best way I can put it. I love her with all my heart.

So, that said, we shopped around at Union Station for a while for her, but then grew tired of the wait and bopped over to Le Cosi to grab a sandwhich. I grabbed one for Miss Mara, too... I had to. I'm a fatty... I know the only thing that fixes these sorts of delays is food, so I had to get her one, I just had to. But I was left with a condumdrum: what the hell type of sandwhich does mara prefer? The only thing worse thing worse than me not bringing a sandwhich would be me bringing a yucky sandwhich. I had to get it right.

Turkey. Its gotta be turkey. You can't go wrong with turkey and cheddar. Who doesn't like turkey and cheddar? To not like it would simply be UnAmerican.

I think she liked it =)

Anyway, New Years was spent in Silver Spring at one of my friend Jackie's friends house... I didn't really know 'em at all, but by the end of the night, we were the definition of "the life of the party." They practically took notes and fought over who got to tell the story of our family. Huge house, Jewish Dentist Dad. Nuff Said.

So, Crababitha bitched at the party. She bitched in teh city. If bitches were hammers, she'd have had a folk hit. She and Charese disappeared from whence they came the day after they came down.. really, it was less than a 24 hour visit.

Clearly I'm upset. Clearly.

So broken up that we actually made it out *again*, and we went to two different college night events, one at Platinum, the other at Apex (Gaypex). At Platinum I saw a cute boy talking to Mara, and apparently the conversation started as such:

Dude: Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?
Mara: No, I don't really dance like this! I'm just having fun!
Dude: Thats not what I wanted to ask you.

It turns out he was asking about me =) The only fags in the place found the other one. They wouldn't come up and dance, though, they said it was better to admire from afar. "admire"
Whatever.

I love dancing with my cousins. It makes me so happy. They're goofball chowderheads and I love it. Love Love Love it. I am so blessed that I get to share blood with my best friends... you can't choose family, but I wouldn't choose anyone else.

Anyway, the next few days were spent bonding... we made it to the hirshorn (the hub of all things is awesome), to the cosi, and around scott circle and dupot circle countless times. We ate at the GhettoStarChineseWok... In fact, we ate just about everywhere. Cause we ate a lot. A lot a lot. Mara made alfredo. Brownies. Krista made Jello. We made 10 mile long trips for ice cream. In fact, though we failed at our attempts to get ice cream a couple of times, we really did make like 3 efforts for 3 different varieties. Gosh we ate.


But, eventually it had to be done....and my girls left today.

I don't even wanna talk about it, 'cause then I'll start missin' them again. I also don't want to talk anymore about the food we ate, 'cause then I'll be haungry again.

Mm...haungry...

Oh! About the move: I left sooo much shit behind at the Dirty House... my poor fuckin slumlords. If they didn't suck so badly, I sure would be upset about leaving them with all that junk 😉

I spent Christmas Break rediscovering unconditional love; the soundtrack was a very broad selection of Alanis Morrisette, Jason Mraz, Sex and Ego, Eminem, and others. I really got to listen to Jason Mraz while Krista and I were together, and again with the arrival of Mara.

Hehehe, it was actually the background for our hunt to find a parking spot on Indepence... before we put on "Bully." A far better track to be aggressive to. "faggot ja, hahaha"

Anywho, Krista has a version of "Waiting for My Rocket to Come," Jason Mraz's debut album, that contains a very different "You and I Both." I've yet to buy the album myself, I think I'm going to have to do that today, so I don't know for sure that the album even contains her version, but either way, the radio play is different on that track.

So, that long as blurb aside, the song is distinctly sadder and carries a resonating note of meloncholy through out that I just don't feel on the radio edit. Jason's inflections and modulations can make the song a tough listen... it's beautiful, and I'm filled with different emotions everytime. Its not always good to get choked up while driving.

The last time I was with Jarret the song came on the radio. Again, it was the peppier, happier, more-remedy-er version I felt compelled to share with him the fact that I like the album version better, and to explain to him why. It's in his buddy profile now:


"And with this silence brings a moral story
More importantly evolving is the glory of a boy

Cause you and I both loved
What you and I spoke of
And others just read of and if you could see me now
Well that I’m almost finally out of
I’m finally out of
Finally-dee-deedle le dee dee
Well I’m almost finally, finally
Well I am free, Oh, I'm free

And it's okay if you had to go away
Oh, just remember the telephone well their workin it both ways
But if I never ever hear them ring
If nothing else I'll think the bells inside
Have finally found you someone else and that's okay
Cause I'll remember everything you sang"


Is he aware completely of how I feel now? I don't know for sure, which makes me feel like I have to have a heart-2-heart. Perhaps now I know what it feels like to be on the other side. It reminds me of "Jolene," it can be either pathetic and sad, or empowering, depending on who's vantage you take, Jolene's or the Singer's.

Harumph.

Something funny: "...Rivals Neil Finn in his ability to invoke the spirit of Paul McCartney." -- Amazon.com's Review

Don't you have to be dead to have your spirit invoked? If not, wouldn't it hurt to have your spirit go on vacation? Is that what Day 7 feels like?

Finally!

I've picked a location for the new country I'm planning. I have always planned on taking over a small 3rd world nation and renaming it the People's Republic of Mike... That way, when you're going on vacation and people ask where you're going, you can be like "PROM."

Yeah, and of course I'd be in charge, and I'd be called "Mike the Great," just like I am here. Yeah.

Anyway, it'll be a holy ground for fatties everywhere.

Behold, P.R.O.M.

We enter in the midst of house warming party held for John and Liz (dating); more correctly, we enter in the midst of a conversation being held by John and Phil (college best friends, now 26) conversing on the matter of why Phil has left his amazing job. Phil responds, only half flippantly, "I left, because I plan to Save the World."

4.18

"And how do you propose to do it?"
"Well, Lungless labs; thats for a start.
We'll picket it, disrupt it, sue it--"
"Phil, Lungless LAbs won't give a fart.
They'll slam you straight into the slammer
Where you can practice Russian grammar
Until... (By ones and twos a knot
Grows round the disputatious spot)...
Sense penetrates your soft ingenious
Cerebrum." "John, you've missed the point,"
Says Phil: "The world is out of joint;
And such acts, though they may seem tenuous
To you, give heart to us; whats more,
Bring new peace fodder to our door."

4.19

Speech strained and clarified by passion
--His S's remain S's still--
In unantagonistic fashion,
Eschewing escalation, Phil
Resumes: "John, take a look around us.
Imagine that the first bombs found us
Just as we are-- as here we stand
A glass of liquor in our hand.
There by the door is Van Gough's painting
Of Sunflowers. Here are all our friends.
And suddenly, our small world ends,
And our vile dust is swept up, tainting
The hills, the vineyards, and the seas
With irredemdiable disease.

4.20

"So tell me, how much will it please us
That mankind with its crazy ways
--Bach, Rembrandt, Socrates, and Jesus--
Will burn to ash and swivelizing haze?
Will it console us to be knowing
In the swift instant of our going
That Red Square, like our children's creche,
Will soon be charred or ulcerous flesh?
And then, when the soft radiation
Descends on what's not been destroyed
--Trees, whales, birds, wolves-- the birthless void--
Think how the crown of earth's creation
Will murder what which gave him birth,
Ripping out the slow womb of earth.


4.21

Is it just 'we' who feel this terror?
Do you think 'they' can't understand
What will come down through aim or error
Upon their great and fragile land?
We must stop--...(Caught by sudden sadness
He fumbles)...-if we can- this madness,
We common people of goodwill..."
A young man stands and stares as Phil
Says, "...Fallout can't tell Omsk from Reno..."
He stands there wordless, half in love,
Drinking Phil's speech, the image of
El Greco's Felix Paravicino:
The same pale, slender, passionate face,
Stregth and intensity and grace.

4.22

It's Ed. Now Liz has introduced him
(At his request). Ed, rarely short
Of words, finds Philip's have reduced him
To numbness. On the tennis court
Or with his advertising rabble
Ed spouts forth a distracting babble
Of witty entertaining trash
Till his companions long to smash
Their rackets on his simmering cranium
Or seal his lips with editing tape;
But two sure passwords for escape
Have been discovered: One's Uranium,
The other, God. All talk of these
Causes Ed's babbling brooke to freeze.

4.23

Now host and hostess, drawn by duty,
Have vanished, but-- to stay with Ed--
At twenty-three, though quite astute, he
Seems easily dispirited;
Although his energy's appealing,
It serves the function of concealing
Rifts of anxiety so deep
Some nights he finds it hard to sleep.
(Liz thinks this trait comes from their mother.)
Both Sue and Liz adore Ed: he's
Warmhearted, fun, and quick to pleace;
But neither understand their brother
When his designs and words are skewed
By what they term his godly mood.

4.24

Phil looks at Ed: intese, athletic,
Silent-- the sort of man whom he's
Uneasy with. But Ed's ascetic
Tension betrays his own unease;
And by now Phiil's free-floating status
(Bouyed by spiritiuous afflatus)
Projects goodwill on all mankind--
And so, in half an hour, we find the pair engaged in conversation,
Which now that he's gained his cool
And half slipped back to playing the fool,
Revolved round Ed's prolonged narration
Of how he happened to procure
A green iguana from the store.

[Phil and Ed continue a fun, light conversation before being interrupted by Jan. Jan, a college friend of Phil's ex-wife is not pleased with an off-handed comment about woman meant only in jest. Phil options to leave, and Ed offers him a place to crash in town so he doesn't have to drive home drunk. They arrive at Ed's.]

4.31

Phil looks around at Ed's housekeeping.
Ed yawns, and strips off shirt and shoes.
Silence outside. The iguana's sleeping.
This quiet grid of avenues
With red-flowered gum for decoration
Lies deep in slumber and sedation.
"It suits me, Phil. The flat's quite small,
But there's a garden, after all--
And a small pool for the iguana..."
Phil's bleary eyes rest on a bowl
Of fruit, a crucifix, a roll
Of film, a photograph of Lana
Turner, who smiles across the floor
At Holbein's sketch of Thomas More.

4.32

"My patron saint." "Which one?" Ed, grinning,
Says, "Go to sleep!" and turns to pray.
He asks forgiveness for his sinning,
Gives thanks for the expended day,
Consignxs his spirit to God's Charity...
Now Philip, with exiguous clairty
And some bewilderment, sees Ed
Cross himself twice, then come to bed.
Lights out. Phil mumbles, "What a party!
I really blew it then with Jan.
Ed, thanks a lot. I mean it, man--
I haven't yet met a Dorati
I didn't like... (Across the bed
He reaches out and touches Ed)...

4.33

... Good Night." Ed fears to answer. Trembling,
He moves his hand across the space
--What terrifying miles--assembling
His courage, touches Philip's face
And feels him tense up and go rigid.
"I'm sorry," Ed says, in a frigid,
Half-choking voice, "I thought you might--
I didn't mean-- I mean-- good night."
Taut with cateleptic tension
They lie, unspeaking. Phil thinks, "Why
Be so uptight? He's a great guy.
I've never bothers with convention.
God! It's a year that I've been chaste...,"
And puts his arm around Ed's waist"

4.34

Now, just as things were getting tenser,
And Ed and Phil were making love,
The imperial official censor
--Officious and imperious-- drove
His undscriminating panzer
Straight through the middle of my stanza.
Now, GentleReader, is it right
This swine should put my Muse to flight,
Rooting about among my pearly
Wisdom till he finds orts that he
Can gobble down with grunting glee?
Forgive me, Reader, if I'm surly
At having to replace the bliss
I'd hoped I could portray, with this.

It was lovely spending time with Lauren this weekend... I hadn't seen the girl in over a month. We dropped a friend of Dan's off at the airport and then proceeded to make our way over to the mall on one of the days we were together. We spent like four hours shopping with the majority of the time bein' spent at H&M.

God I love H&M.

Anywho, on the way there Lauren told me about the new girl at Cosi, Anusha, who didn't know what a Mop was.

Anusha: What is this?
Lauren: A Mop.
Anusha: What do you do with it?
Lauren: You Mop.
*later, anusha sweeping*
Lauren: Are you almost ready?
Anusha: Yes. I just have to broom some more.


"When the Left is right and the Right is wrong" -- Washington Post Media Notes

The comparisons between Rosa Parks and Gavin Newsom, the San Fransisco mayor who is allowing gay marraige, is a little stretched, I'll admit. However, criticizing Chief Justice Roy Moore, the Alabama judge who wouldn't take down the ten commandments, couldn't be more validated. The San Fran Mayor is a hero, he deserves to be praise as such.

Saying that he gets lauded and hero-cized because he has the 'politically correct' mindset is ridonkulous. He's getting praised because he has the correct, nonbiggoted view.

The reason that Mr. Bama Judge is getting mocked should be abundantly clear: we have a seperation of church and state. He's not being "politically incorrect," he's defying one of the tenets this country was built upon, not a neo-1950s imagined one we like to believe. John Locke never said a damn thing about two kids and a dog, and neither should our constitution.

k thx.

In the four hours I was on the phone with my cell phone company getting all the kinks straightened out, I actually made friends with the girl on the other end. Her name was Lauren, and the call center was based out of Nova Scotia. We gabbed, chatted, and she fixed all my problems. One of the subjects we eventually came to was gay marraige. We joked about how as soon as school was done, we'd have to go out and get ourselves hitched, and I told her I'd have to go up her way to get that taken care of.

She told me about her aunts who have been together for twenty years and just got hitched. They're also expecting their first-- its very, very late in life for one of them to be sproutin' beans, granted, but they couldn't be happier. It made me all wistful for a better country.

Oh, Canadia.

Not a bad trip to New York, I gotta say.

Dan and I finished up our classes last Monday and hopped onto the bus and made our way up north to DC to meet up with Lauren and Jess. The original plan was to just crash there for the night and get up way early to catch the $30 round-trip chinatown bus, but as it turned out, there was a bus that left at like 3:30 in the morning. What'd we do? We caught that one.

Why not, you know? As the bus approached the other chinatown, the sounds of mandolins and gongs could be heard playing through the busses sound system. We were the only white folk on the bus, so lest I make some sort of offhandedly offensive comment, let me just say my asian brethen on the bus didn't seem like the blithely happy beats, nor did it seem to make them any happier than they made me.

We got off the bus and meandered through china town, making our way down to Chelsea. Do you have any fuckin' clue how hard it is to find a coffeehouse in china town? Once we all had caffeine coursing through our veins, we treked through the lands of lore: The Village.

At 9:30 in the morning we were in a 24/hour pleasure store purchasing a Fuckuko that the old lady on oxygen recommended. Well, clearly Dan and I didn't purchase it, Lauren and Jess did. They also had Pussy Whip in the flavors of Blackberry Brandy and Strawberry Wine. Both were in fact flammable. Seein' as how I don't have a pussy, I didn't bother purchasing any. I don't think I want to put anything that has the potential to catch on fire near my junx, thanks.

After we rode the subway for a bit, we ran into Jess's only family member in the city: her cousin. She's like 45 or so, and really cool. How random is it that we just ran into her on the metro? I was pretty impressed. Also on that ride there was this black couple, who were singing really, really well. Lauren swapped them a dollar for a photo, and they invited us to a free show at the Cafe Vivaldi.

So, after the stint on the sub, we arrived in Times Square, where Jackie's folks were staying. They were staying in the Iroquois, in a 3 room suite that was habitated by James Dean from 1950-1953. How deliriously swank. And cool. James Dean was probably fucking his tricks in the room I slept in... that’s so fuckin' bitchin'. Mmmm...

We actually ended up going to the show at the Cafe and hearing Chocolate Thai and Jubilee sing. They cafe had plenty of seating, as it was an 'unannounced' show, but there were still a number of heads present. Throughout the show, CT and Jubilee kept referring to us as their "DC Friends." It was really sweet. After the show, we walked around the borough we were in smoking a joint and gabbing. As it turns out, they are going to be on Sesame Street! I need to make sure I'm paying attention so that I can tape it. I would love to see someone I smoked with chillin' with Grover.

I kinda absent mindedly just left out Dan's friend at NYU, Adrian. I'm annoyed with her, and was annoyed with him about her. Long stories short: She was supposed to be out of her class and call at 2:00. We put ourselves in Union Square to meet her. She never called. Dan called, and she didn't answer. Dan apparently didn't make super solid plans, but never made that clear. Then Jackie wanted us to pick her up a handle of Jim Bean. No big deal-- we asked Adrian when the store stopped sellin' liquor, and she told us midnight. The show finished at 10:30, and we asked where we should go to get some, and then she said that they were already closed. I don't know if she's just super-self-absorbed or what, but I'd rather not believe she purposefully lied to my friends and I. She also didn't really say a helluva lot to my friends which pissed me off. I realized Dan hadn't seen her in ages, but I'd never treat his friends the way she treated mine, or at least not without apologizing to Dan for it later. No such apology came. It wasn't even the apology from him that I wanted, it was an awareness that maybe he is some how accountable for his friends actions.

Accountability is a big issue for Dan. Whenever something happens, its the worlds fault, or someone elses. He also is aimless and has no direct ambition. He's totally inactive in any decision making process regarding his own life. It grates on me so badly because I know what it feels like to be there, in that space. I was in that space not so very long ago, and being around it now feels almost like a step backwards. I've talked about it with him, and I'm optimistic, but darn it, shape up.

I talked to Mara about it, and she gave good advice-- stick it out. Be a responsible, mature person, and watch it wear off. I guess she's right. My annoyance with it and my readiness to drop him immediately for it is nothing more than my own self defense mechanism showing up... but it is a valid issue, and one worth paying attention to.

Anyway, back to New York, since I've gotten that tangent out of my system. Adrian neglected to tell us that getting into NYUs buildings required a Driver's License and a Driver's License only; Lauren only had her passport, and thusly couldn't be admitted into the dorms. Jess and Lauren were rightly pissed at this point. Afterall, Jackie, one of the sweetest (don't tell her I said that) girls in the world had let us stay at her folks suite in NYC, and all she requested was some liquor. She requested it of Jess, and because of Dan's friend's flightiness, we couldn't get it.

Jackie was on her way down from midtown on the subway when we discovered our inability to enter the dorms, so we waited outside for her. I told Dan to stay behind and play with his friend. When Jackie found us in Union Square, we bought beer and hopped back on the metro.

At the hotel, Lauren and Jess quickly fell asleep. Jackie and I drank a beer or two and then diddybopped into Time Square. We walked around in the neoday that only Vegas and Time Square can seem to replicate. We wandered, talked, bonded, and fell into the almost sensuous serenity of being nearly native. The city envelopes, controls, and somehow still stays in the background... We felt like we belonged. We shared months worth of emotion and unlocked the emotional toolchest and got to work on one another, listening, wandering, talking, and bonding some more. I love Jackie. We finished off a few more back at the hotel, never getting drunk, and just talked until the sun was nearly ready to come up. The next morning we got a hold in Jackie's Chin, bought a bowl, had cream of asparagus soup, tried on sunglasses, and caught a china town bus home.

When we got back in the car, I was expecting Dan to mention his friend's behavior. It never came. I grew annoyed with my own thoughts, and wanted to sort them out, so I had planned on going home. Dan could see that something was pissing me off, so he asked what it was. I expressed to him my concern with his lack of awareness and lack of accountability. The discussion was short-lived, however, because bad news came. The bust for Pot that had occurred had managed to get Dan kicked off campus, though he had no official wrong-doing. His lack of grounding annoyed me even more after I worked really hard to get his police report released. I pretended to be Joel Kelly, of Billingsly and Snead, while talking on the phone with one Margaret Jones, from the Police records office. I convinced her that I was a paralegal, and was helping Mr. Snead work on a case where time was of the essence. It took convincing, but she agreed to release the records so that Dan could have them for his appeal... which had to be turned in literally two days after he got the notice of eviction.

Anyway, all I had to do was fax Ms. Jones the info she requested, which Dan had. Dan should have been just about ready to go to his next class when I called him to get him to fax the information over... but guess what? Instead of following through with any of the shit he needed to get done, he went to the mall, while his friend Meg and I helped prepare his stuff. We were both annoyed. My annoyance lasted a solid couple of days, and I told him to just go back to Delaware if he's not bettering himself here. He's just so friggin young in so many ways. Kelly calls 'em Boy years. She says he's not even a child in boy years, that hes still a baby, and in many ways I think she's right. Ahh, dual influence... Mara has validity and so does Kelly. I think they're both right in the words they've spoken. I need to watch out that I'm not dippin' out on this kid because of my defenses, and also not taking more than I should, as per Kelly.

Speaking of Kelly, she invited me to a fund-raiser/house party on Saturday night that was bein' held by a bunch of greenpeace-ers. It was up in NW, so I drove up from Colonial Beach and picked up Dan along the way. We grabbed Jess from her Cosi and checked into what will (hopefully soon) be my Cosi so that I could say Hola to e'rybahdy. We got to the house party without too much effort, and wouldn't you know it, the party was fuckin' hoppin'. Two kegs were going, the dancefloor was bein' held up beat-to-beat by one of the dudes from Thievery Corporation, and the ghanga was waftin' all through the top floor. We had a smoke session and Jess, who no longer smokes, caught herself a lovely-lovely contact high. So lovely, in fact, that as we were walkin' out the window to the rooftop area, Jess almost took a second face-plant of the month... this time over the roof. Luckily balance was caught, but whoooo booy, was it funny/scary/ridiculous.

For the Greenpeace party, I decided to make a pair of jeans. Well, not make, so much as modify, but anyway, I had these jeans from Gap that I slit up the side nearly to my midthigh on each side and on the inner side, up to my knee. For Madonnarama last year they were safety-pinned together and made into a neuvo-prince kinda look. Loved 'em. For this event, I attacked an old garter set, and made different sized strips tapering from shorter strips to longer, and stitched them into the slits. Then I took my mom's curtain decorating rope and fashioned a belt that does this in the front: //\ And comes around into the back and cups my ass really tightly. The jeans turned out to be a smashing hit, they got talked about in a positive light on a couple of occasions. This, of course, stroked my vanity like no other, and made me grin from ear to ear.

I mentioned earlier that I pretended to be Joel Kelly, of Billingsly and Snead. Well, I got to tell Caroline that I was pretending to be her father’s paralegal (Snead, get it) the other day. She and I took Anabell for a walk that was only supposed to be around the block, but ended up taking about two hours. I guess we had a lot to talk about. Caroline’s lookin’ well, and feelin’ better, too, from what I understand. They just readjusted her thyroid medication, so we’ll see what that brings. I told her that I was trying the Atkins Diet (which I am, btw) for a while, and she was totally supportive. Until she showed me this three layer dessert she made. It was so rich that even the enviable appetite of the Snead Family couldn’t finish the dish in one sitting. She told me to chew it up and spit it out, it was that good. I did. It was.

Also from the vaults of Caroline… she had found this stray a few months ago that she named Jake. He was a good puppy, but Papa Snead wouldn’t let ‘er keep it. Anabell was enough fur in his house as-was, so she hunted around to find a new owner. One of her bookclub buddies stepped up to the plate, and the puppy shipped off to Caroline County. Well, the dog got loose from the new owner. Its fine, no worries, but one of the neighbors called the police on the cute little beagle for dog vagrancy. She had to go to court for it and everything.

So, there this girl is, in court, when they announce the Honorable Charles Snead presiding. Andrea, the new dog’s owner, thinks to herself for a minute: Caroline’s last name is Snead. Caroline’s Dad is a judge. She sees the judge, and he’s a large man. Caroline’s Father is a large man.

Can you believe it? The man who turned away the vagrant dog to begin with is now presiding over the case. Poor Andrea is so honest that she didn’t mention it at the time to him, but Papa Snead got rid of the charges anyway. So, when Caroline told her daddy what happened, he about lost it with laughter. “Why didn’t she say somethin’?” he bellowed with laughter. “I liiive for letting people go for no good reason. All she had to do was say ‘Your honor, Caroline Snead gave me this dog, and I’ve just recently been learnin’ how to take the proper care this vagrant dog needs.’ And I would have said, ‘Of course! This dog has a history of vagrancy, one that I am very familiar with! There are extenuating circumstances! Dismissed!” I don’t know if Papa Snead would use that many exclamations, but I imagine that he would, so we’re gonna let ‘em stay.

Tomorrow's going to be a busy day... I'll discover whether or not I get my job at Cosi back fo' rizzle, I get a massage by Kelly, and then I get to take her out to lunch. Following that, fingers crossed, I get to go to work.

By the way, Alanis cut her hair. Love it.

Interesting week. Had my meeting with the dean. That didn't go as well as I would have liked-- apparently Sara Strom had something different to say than the rest of us. And there was an error on the police report saying that Dan and I admitted to drinking and smoking marijuana.

We admitted to neither. I'm nervous, but there is no way to prove that I did anything wrong. So, if something bad happens, I appeal.

I don't know what to do. Sugar in Sara's gas tank seems like a valid response. Keying and vinegar? I don't know. Either way, something should happen, but I care more for my Karma than for retribution. The police report feels like the toughest one to find a response to. Do I get a lawyer involved? Do I have to ask Papa Snead for assistance? At what point do I discuss this with the folks? Lawdy.

My cousins are here, and we're looking for something fun to do. Colonial Beach never seems to lend itself to fun, so I think we might just go get ice cream and a movie. In the mean time how about a survey?

Grab the book nearest you, turn to page 23, find line 5. Write down what it says, along with this sentence, and post it in your journal.

"They charge more, and you lose more," I say aloud without thinking, and there's a laugh around the room. God, how embarassing. And now Like brandon's lifting his head, too. Quckly I look down and pretend to be writing notes.

1: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 98, find line 6. Write down what it says.
"Yeah, great!" she says, and takes a huge bite of nan.

2: Stretch your left arm out as far as you can. What do you touch first?
A curtain.

3: What is the last thing you watched on TV?
Mad TV

4: WITHOUT LOOKING, guess what the time is:
8ish

5: Now look at the clock, what is the actual time?
7:58pm

6: With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?
The TV, and my cousins Krista and Aric laughing.

7: When did you last step outside? What were you doing?
Mom, Krista, Aric, Aunt Karin and I were playing scrabble on the deck a couple of hours ago.

8: Before you came to this website, what did you look at?
The TV.

9: What are you wearing?
Jeans, shoes, a hoodie.

10: Did you dream last night?
Not as far as I know.

11: Is your boss a power-hungry nut case or...?
One's a sketchy morrocan. One's a white-break dick. The others are great.

12: Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?
Robyn Renee Hall

13: Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?
Joel Kelly Hall

14: Would you ever consider living abroad?
I dunno. I'd miss my fam.

Today has been a day of reflection unlike any I've had in recent memory. We celebrated Easter with the typical trappings of baskets and fake green grass that has been the tradition for every year I've been alive.

A lot of time has passed since 1996. Krista, Aric, Aunt Karin, Uncle Mark, Mom, Dad and I were reminded of it as we watched old movies of bygone holidays. We've grown up so much, we're so different, we're a million other cliches, but we're also very human; and thus, we're susceptible to a million more.

I taped over a part of Easter '97, which took place in Ohio, at some point. I'm an asshole. How was one episode of a stupid soap opera more important than my family's history? I guess I wanted to replace those years so badly that I not only removed the entries from my mind, I was cavalier about erasing them on tape, too. I didn't even think about who's feelings and memories it could hurt.

Such an asshole.

No grudges were held for my indiscretion with a tape. So little fear of retribution from my kin, in fact, that Krista was trusted with putting a hole in my body. A second cartilage piercing to match hers. Krista did it with a needle and an orange... my first new piercing since Trev, Matt, and I went and got my nipple pierced in July or August of 2001.

The hole in my nipple is still open, but no ring resides in it. I lost the metallic memory marker in a boy named Sebastian's apartment this summer. I met him in a dimly lit hotel party where a drag queen named Simone held court, and the party goers reveled, tweaked, and made complete asses of themselves, myself included. I swirled, passed out, and was taken care of by Sebastian at that gathering, one of the few times I needed Mike-sitting at a party. He kept the drag queen away from me, I reckon claiming me as his own in some sort of sick drug addict ritualistic way. I hadn't slept in 5 days.

We had hit it off earlier, I was taken by the glint his eyes displayed, though they were nearly covered by an angora kangol hat. He was the type of boy you weren't sure whether to hire to paint your fence or invite inside to paint the town, the kind who might use his knife for your defense or for worse. It didn't hardly much matter which you desired more, there was no short end to his stick. There's little question to those that know me why I was drawn in; He was a cup game, quick figure eights and tempestuous transition, daring your eyes to blink.

No, I should have known. I liked that he wrapped my mind up in wit, tied it up, and held it dear. I liked how the shadows ended before his lips began, leaving me with the anticipation of each well formed word. I wanted to listen, I wanted to taste.

He wanted me, too. My time in Sebastian's company in any capacity was around two months, and he led me to the social pools in which I nearly drowned. He himself proved to a horrible floatation device, one who preferred to sit at the bottom rather than rise to the top. He was a drug addict, with a far more ferocious addiction than my own.

He was also missing pieces of his soul that I could never repair; parents, best friends, a traitorous nature, and tina.

He left my life easily enough, an amputation necessary and grotesque for all the ways a mind can quiver and become weak for a drug that was flesh and blood.

I saw him online today. His bio said "4 Rnt."

There were rumors that got back to me almost as soon as I started speaking about him to others. All signs pointed to the fact that Sebastian had escorted previously. I checked my facts. They all pointed to prostitution, but I wanted to believe him when he told me they were untrue.

I can't make light of my own allowed delusions... I did, actually, believe him. I let myself be lied to. I let him meet my mother. I let him sleep in my bed, and told him he had a place to go if he needed to clean up. I wanted to believe I could help wash away the filth of addiction as easily as one wipes oil from the bridge of their nose. I wanted to believe that I wasn't feeling deep emotions for a liar and a whore.

I couldn't care less if he sold his body for money. I wish he hadn't sold his integrity. I wish he hadn't sold me out. I wish he hadn't lied to me.

I wish that holes in my body weren't reminders of holes in my soul. Holes in my own integrity. Holes in my own honesty.

I might have a thousand wishes, but I'll be damned if I'll rub a thousand lamps. Let him do that.

I can't tape over last year any more than I can erase myself. Let the sty in my third eye see skewed versions of myself, they can't be any worse than lies I believed or the lies I told myself and then repeated to others. Fuck Sebastian. I hope everytime he blows someone, he remembers blowing out the candles in my room before climbing to bed, remembers what my face looked like as I went down on Justin, and I hope he feels in his sleep, when he does sleep, what my lips felt like on his.

I hope he waits in anticipation for the taste of me. Let my only vengeance be my very lack of it.

Hit play.