Palm full of stars

This isn't about one thing. It's about everything.

During the last month, I have been on been on nine trains, toured six cities and slept in five different dorms. I have become friends with and shared rooms with Texan sorority girls, a computer programmer from Russia, a dentist from San Francisco, half the Iowa State football team, a Girl Friday from Hong Kong, an art student from Beijing, and more.

I made out with a boy from Columbia whose name I didn't even know in the back of an Irish pub...while in Paris. I turned down offers of food, sex or some combination of the two from a dozen men. I have been mistaken for a Florentine, a Parisian and a good German girl. I have pretended to understand three languages. I have read thirteen books and taken nine rolls of film.

I spent ten minutes gawking at David right hand, five minutes trying to see Mona Lisa from behind a mass of humanity, and half an hour sitting beneath the Birth of Venus talking to M.

I have filled up a 220 page journal.

I saw the Luftwaffe building. A lot.

I got a really fucking deep tan.

I found the spot where I died in my last life. I found the spot where I lived in my last life. I found the lot that once contained the house of Obersturmführer Randolf Fitzgerald.

I have worn nothing but gypsy skirts and false Mary Janes. I have watched Bavaria flash by, green and grey, Richard's head in my lap, fingers of one hand (brown like cinnamon) wandering over his cheeks (like powdered sugar). I have danced to Imogen Heap, Robert Downey Jr. and Dido on cobblestones.

I have sealed a Faustian bargain with a handshake, witnessed a divorce I never thought would happen, and discovered I can indeed be a Weird Friendless Kid until the day I drop dead. Just a bubble in a perfect paint job, you know?

Then I decided to take a look at the Wired again and came to the conclusion that this is all bullshit.

In the amount of time people spend talking trash about one another via IJ, El Jay or whatever journal service is currently the rage, they probably could have written the Great American/English/Irish/Canadian novel. It's fucking stupid. It's mind bogglingly fucking stupid.

Guys, stop picking fights. Stop looking for trouble. We've all been subject to assholes and tourists and other unsavory types. Shit happens. Either you deal or you don't and it's a hell of a lot more productive to do the former. The whole "More multiple than thou" attitude? It's not attractive. You have an issue with someone? Keep it between you and that person, don't fucking link it in your journal so all your friends can gang up on whoever it is you're arguing with. Nobody takes us seriously because we act like fucking children.

I'm not a saint--I've been guilty of all of the above at one time or another I've just sworn not to do it again and it's made me pretty damn happy to float around obliviously with my ka-tet. I treat others as I wish to be treated and nine times out of ten, doing that works.

Everything I've seen in the multiple/soulbonding community is like high school, and not even a real high school. We're talking Mean Girls style backstabbing here. "One time she punched me in the face. It was awesome!"

I've been around the block a few times and my tolerance for drama went down the tubes about two years ago. I've kept my mouth shut until now because everytime I make the mistake of opening my mouth and telling the Truth, I get in a shitload of trouble. But I'm really tired and smiling and nodding and being sympathetic. Ever think that if you are constantly surrounded by drama that YOU could be the one causing it?

When the soulbonding community was duking it out with Neo, I was reeling from how my life got blown to hell in the course of a single afternoon. When everyone was up in arms over the Tavern wank, I was busy with a full course load and very much preoccupied with making sure my uncle's boyfriend didn't take a power drill to his temple. There was probably some stupid fucking drama that took place last fall and I was, once again, Elsewhere. This time, I was doing dirty deeds dirt cheap to help out a friend. So no, I don't get it why people thrive on drama.

Do whatever it is you need to do to boost your self esteem high enough that you don't feel the need to snip about people behind their backs all the fucking time. Go on a mountain retreat, take up yoga, read a book, drink, get laid, spank your inner moppet.

Want to call me a bitch? Go ahead. I've been called a whore and a psychopath and worse. Want to black list me, defriend me? It's a free country.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to finish doing my fucking laundry and walk around Florence with my imaginary boyfriend.

rate of change (of position)

you worry about pornography
wires sprouting from the temples
(like Athena,, there in lies the irony)
of man-children who want the world to be at
their beck and call
the crook of a finger
the nod of a head

you worry about a letter that denotes your worth
what the price of your soul is
99 cents for a strand of red thread
but it cannot describe the words
inscribed on your
heart

remember that
...will you?

come as you are i promise
there is someone who will pay no attention to
the monsters squirming behind the
curtain

you tell me i would be so good at it, piece of paper in hand and
sensible heels nipping at the concrete
suffer all the little children unto me and i will show them
a wonder they will never be able to push
from their brains with silver nor glass nor good dreams
spun of spiders and gypsy silk

i was created, you see,
by angry angels to haul a boy off the floor when he is
bleeding and wants nothing more than to
stay down
where they put him

that was until he removed all seraphims from
our equation

(and here i thought integers had no place in
God's universe)

i take it as my profession to worry about the way the bone looks
when it's pushing up through the ghost
white of flesh foreign and
desperate so please don't blame me
when i can't stand to look you in the
E Y E
now that i've exited those hallowed halls.

FOR GOD'S SAKE.

It's become apparent that my issue with El Jay is less about SUP and 6Apart and more about the fucktards that make up the user base. I know you get idiots everywhere because this is the Wired and there are no consequences for what you say, but argh.

People bitch about like, the pro-ana communities and crazy Christians on El Jay, but fandom is so much worse. As the aforementioned link proves, certain factions are so out of touch with Reality they are willing to support anti-Semitism just so they can continue to read fan fiction about buttsex.

Karma, please come and kick some ass sooner rather than later.