| poopy |
[10 Oct 2001|12:41pm] |
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Okay, here's my go at this thing. I had a great weekend camping with Alana, Tiff, and Kaylyn. Canada is my favorite place to camp. I am a little out of control with my illness and it's frustrating for me right now. I do feel good about going back to therapy soon...and seeing my mom this weekend...and having such great friends...and dating such a wonderful person/friend. This feels more like e-mailing than journaling. I feel I can only get so personal. Not much more to say I suppose. Chao. Fancy Pants
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| Sup! |
[26 Sep 2001|07:03pm] |
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I am trying to get into this live journal thing, but my e-mail is fucked up and I'm not receiving my messages. Grrr. Time to switch servers. Okay bye.
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| huh? i don't get it. |
[26 Sep 2001|04:47pm] |
Here's a poem that Kaylyn and I don't really get. It's in an anthology called When I'm an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple (which is a great poem by the way, called Warning by Jenny Joseph)
does anyone understand this???
Social Security
Barbara Bolz
She knows a cashier who
blushes and lets her use
food stamps to buy tulip
bulbs and rose bushes.
We smile each morning as I
pass her -her hand always
married to some stick,
or hoe, or rake.
One morning I shout,
"I'm not skinny like
you so I've gotta run
two miles each day."
She begs me closer, whispers
to my flesh, "All you need,
honey, is to be on welfare
and love roses."
...so she doesn't eat and instead buys roses? that's why she's skinny? are we missing an interpretation???
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| stop. drop. roll. |
[12 Aug 2001|02:00am] |
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This is new. I am used to journaling, but not so publically. Should be neat. Too sleepy to think.
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