In the tiny, comfortably gentrified condo-and-Pottery Barn section of inner-city Portland, east of Burnside and west of I-405, the numbered avenues are intersected by streets named in alphabetical order. Although, in conversation, I've never heard it called anything but "the Northwest 23rd Avenue area" or "close-in Northwest", the regulation-green ( Read more... )

As it turns out, I'm not quite dead. So I may as well write some more.

Please dig:

From here on out, it's total candor- unbridled, artless, and filter-free. No more hemming. No more hawing. No more cutesy euphemisms. I figure if I'm honest with a bunch of random strangers, I'll eventually be able to be honest with my friends. And hopefully, sometime before rigor mortis sets in, I'll learn to be honest with myself ( Read more... )

It's settled. The more brilliant the lyrics of a given female singer/songwriter, the more likely she is to have irritating vocals. On the more benign end of the spectrum, there's Kristin Hersh, and Shannon Wright, who writes like a talented version of Tori Amos and somehow manages to sound mousy and ferocious at the same time. (It's not a pretty ( Read more... )

One of the main perks of being HIV+, it turns out, is that now I never have to grow up. It's not that I'm going die any sooner- just more compulsorily ( Read more... )

I went to some kid's house, 2nd day high. Never would've gone to meet him if we'd talked on the phone beforehand; too fem, too Radical Faerie predictable. Cute enough it turned out though. Fuck was decent, once he agreed not to close his eyes ( Read more... )

So... I was going to complain about some stuff, but I've changed my mind. Despite the generally fearsome quality of my life as of late, there are still things to be happy about. The getting of head, for example, is still a pleasant passtime. Ditto for assplowing. Kerry's still in the lead. Human babies are still cute as a motherfuck.

And ( Read more... )

Screw the hippies.

I'm hitting the Juggalo trail.

(Props to jamessqueaky)

So this is what it feels like to be friendless... it feels like nothing, really, except I'm bored a lot. It occured to me a few minutes ago that I don't have any friends, but it was the kind of revelation that enters your mind unsolicited and reveals almost nothing about your current situation, or where it is you fit into things. Like having it ( Read more... )

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