No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction at anytime.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,
a blessed unrest keeps us marching and makes us more alive than others.
-- Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille
Was || Will Be || Past Moments || Now || Notes

2001-10-29 - 10:03 p.m.

Bombshells. Don't we all need more Bombshells in our lives?

So jo3 and I often talk about community. Not exactly that "It takes a village" kind of crap-ola, but a yearning for a collection of like-minded individuals.

You know, a sense of belonging.

So in that vein, can I just give it up now for D-Land's numero uno bombshell?

Cause besides the fact that she continues to rock my little "I pretend I know how to party" world (although we all know that PG rocks the party that rocks the world), Ging is just a super-cool person who managed to take some time out today from her busy insomniac schedule to lend some words of support to my sorry ass.

And you know by now that it's *all* about validation.

But seriously, the point here is that today's previous entry was actually about ten times longer than what you saw. But I deleted the majority of the Whining, Bitching and Complaining. Because I didn't want to subject anyone else to all that shit.

I thought I'd shucked off at least some of my negativity, but then I made the drive home, with it's five requisite "That was less than a foot from my bumper you blind moron" close calls and the forty-five requisite "that's another minute you and all your lemming brethren have stolen from my life" minutes, and about a million other stupid little annoyances that add up to j$ really wants to make some changes in his life.

Then I got home and all my good intentions about gym and BigSis' site, and self-improvement and on and on all fall by the wayside when confronted with tortilla chips, beer and the boob toob.

Just about the time that I'm feeling like the day is a complete waste, I decide to check email and my beloved D-Land.

Lo and behold. One miss numero uno bombshell from NY took five seconds to say "it aint all bad, kiddo."

That may not seem like much to you.

In the world o' shit that was my day, it is more than it seems. It is a reminder of community. Somebody out there took the time to say "bitch all you want. it's okay." (geez, Ging, I hope I'm not putting too many words in your mouth.)

Look, I had a beer too many tonight, and nothing I've said today really makes any sense. But I have to say that once again, the little corner of the internet that is D-Land has come through for me. We're all walking around with our guts hanging out, and I for one am constantly cringing, afraid that the sight of all my entrails will make people puke, or at least shy away.

Every time someone instead gives me a nod and an "it's alright, mine are just as gross.", well it means something to me.

I'm now approaching that point where anyone who has ever urged me on is thinking to themselves "enough already" and those who wish I'd shut up are long since gone. No matter. It's all about letting the real me hang out. But not for too long, cause I've recently had some confirmation that size *does* matter. I don't want you to have time to grab your rulers.

Hurmph. I'm a sicko.

Okay. I'm going to have a bath, and then go to bed.

Oh, one last thought. The thing about the chickens?

Abso-fucking-lutely hilarious.

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