"The difference between me and you is that I'm on fire"
Dear Diary,
Livejournal has become my newborn addiction. I am an affront to glue sniffers everywhere.
I’ve tried to discover what all the pants wetting is about, but I can’t put my finger on it. All I know is that I’m suckling the teat of an internet nodule, and “I'm loving it.” [Enjoy the heterosexual imagery? I envision all the gay boys who read that last line shuddering.]
I had a mild pneumonia for the last week which wasn’t congenial. Taking off work is out of the question because of the vast amounts of currency I’m being paid, so I just had to pretend not to be sick. Pretending not to have a pneumonia takes skills people! Skill I do not have, so I ended up staying in bed for two or three days and ponder the social context of the world, livejournal and myself instead.
I’ve realized that I have a conventional, healthy North American attitude towards my body - I’m self-conscious of it. Even though I workout and have a “nice” body by societies standards, it’s hard to be a gay man and not want to be the pneumatically enhanced babe that’s thrown at you by homo culture.
As much as I workout, my abs can always be better, my arms bigger. I’m looking forward to the day that I can work out conditions with mass. Because I’m a perfectionist, chances are that day will come - never.
All I want to do is be noticed when I shake it like the proverbial Polaroid picture. Okay fine, noticed more.
Maybe I should take dance lessons instead?
The only humour that came out of my sick days was when my little sisters ex boyfriend called. He caught wind that she’s coming home from school in a few days and has chosen to throw her a surprise party.
When I questioned his motives, he told me straight out that he wants her back and that he loves her.
“You love her? When was the exact moment you fell in love?” I grilled him. (In my books a good older brother will give anyone vaguely interested in their little sister an incredibly rough time, where chances of being pleased are unattainable.)
He responded without hesitation, “We went shopping to the grocery store for my Mother once and I knew I loved her when she replied to the cashier ‘Paper and plastic’.”
I smiled as a reaction to his response and at that exact moment my immune system gained the virtuoso to kick the shit out of my pneumonia.
Ryan
Livejournal has become my newborn addiction. I am an affront to glue sniffers everywhere.
I’ve tried to discover what all the pants wetting is about, but I can’t put my finger on it. All I know is that I’m suckling the teat of an internet nodule, and “I'm loving it.” [Enjoy the heterosexual imagery? I envision all the gay boys who read that last line shuddering.]
I had a mild pneumonia for the last week which wasn’t congenial. Taking off work is out of the question because of the vast amounts of currency I’m being paid, so I just had to pretend not to be sick. Pretending not to have a pneumonia takes skills people! Skill I do not have, so I ended up staying in bed for two or three days and ponder the social context of the world, livejournal and myself instead.
I’ve realized that I have a conventional, healthy North American attitude towards my body - I’m self-conscious of it. Even though I workout and have a “nice” body by societies standards, it’s hard to be a gay man and not want to be the pneumatically enhanced babe that’s thrown at you by homo culture.
As much as I workout, my abs can always be better, my arms bigger. I’m looking forward to the day that I can work out conditions with mass. Because I’m a perfectionist, chances are that day will come - never.
All I want to do is be noticed when I shake it like the proverbial Polaroid picture. Okay fine, noticed more.
Maybe I should take dance lessons instead?
The only humour that came out of my sick days was when my little sisters ex boyfriend called. He caught wind that she’s coming home from school in a few days and has chosen to throw her a surprise party.
When I questioned his motives, he told me straight out that he wants her back and that he loves her.
“You love her? When was the exact moment you fell in love?” I grilled him. (In my books a good older brother will give anyone vaguely interested in their little sister an incredibly rough time, where chances of being pleased are unattainable.)
He responded without hesitation, “We went shopping to the grocery store for my Mother once and I knew I loved her when she replied to the cashier ‘Paper and plastic’.”
I smiled as a reaction to his response and at that exact moment my immune system gained the virtuoso to kick the shit out of my pneumonia.
Ryan