It's my journal 
(if you already read the intro about interstitial cystitis, check out today's thoughts underneath the row of pretty pretty stars)
I thought it would be cool to document teh life of a chick who's got the girlie-disease "interstitial cystitis."
A lotta people don't know what I.C. is so here goes: incurable tiny ulcers inside the wall of your bladder make it hard to walk, exercise, eat, drink, fuck, dance, breathe, smell flowers, blah blah blah.
The thing is? I have this disease and i'm still kickin' ass.
And other for-real chicks that have bullshit going on with their bodies can relate.
No matter what our mutherfucking misogynistic doctors, sadistic nurses, well-meaning family members, and uninformed aquaintances say, we are awesome, and we can do a good job of taking care of ourselves, thankyouverymuch.
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Have you guys noticed that I can't spell anymore?
Someone must've cooked my Z's!!!!
What do you do when your friend's band sucks?
I mean, I honestly don't want to go see them play because it is painful to listen to. It is this terrible mix between...wait, you know what it sounds like? The credits music from an Anime series. You see what I'm saying? I mean, if they were cute Japanese kids whose second language was English and who grew up learning a completely different tonal scale, I could understand....
Anyway, on a completely different note, I saw The Prits play a lunchtime gig at Portland State University yesterday. They rocked. They sound like a mix between The Cure and early Bauhaus. I drooled the whole time. Think about it: The Cure + Bauhaus! RAWK!!!!
After the Prits's show, I tried to go to this installation called "Eyes Wide Open." It is about the war on terror and includes stuff like a pair of army boots for every soldier that's died so far. I wish I could have gone, but I got too sick and missed it. So if it comes to your 'hood, make sure to check it out and report back for me, okay?
(if you already read the intro about interstitial cystitis, check out today's thoughts underneath the row of pretty pretty stars)
I thought it would be cool to document teh life of a chick who's got the girlie-disease "interstitial cystitis."
A lotta people don't know what I.C. is so here goes: incurable tiny ulcers inside the wall of your bladder make it hard to walk, exercise, eat, drink, fuck, dance, breathe, smell flowers, blah blah blah.
The thing is? I have this disease and i'm still kickin' ass.
And other for-real chicks that have bullshit going on with their bodies can relate.
No matter what our mutherfucking misogynistic doctors, sadistic nurses, well-meaning family members, and uninformed aquaintances say, we are awesome, and we can do a good job of taking care of ourselves, thankyouverymuch.
***************************************************************************************************************************
Have you guys noticed that I can't spell anymore?
Someone must've cooked my Z's!!!!
What do you do when your friend's band sucks?
I mean, I honestly don't want to go see them play because it is painful to listen to. It is this terrible mix between...wait, you know what it sounds like? The credits music from an Anime series. You see what I'm saying? I mean, if they were cute Japanese kids whose second language was English and who grew up learning a completely different tonal scale, I could understand....
Anyway, on a completely different note, I saw The Prits play a lunchtime gig at Portland State University yesterday. They rocked. They sound like a mix between The Cure and early Bauhaus. I drooled the whole time. Think about it: The Cure + Bauhaus! RAWK!!!!
After the Prits's show, I tried to go to this installation called "Eyes Wide Open." It is about the war on terror and includes stuff like a pair of army boots for every soldier that's died so far. I wish I could have gone, but I got too sick and missed it. So if it comes to your 'hood, make sure to check it out and report back for me, okay?
VIEW 15 of 15 COMMENTS
capp:
no we don't have any Mp3's sadly, we just kind of go to shows and play sometimes, it's more or less just because we all like to play music and are pretty neutral on the whole making the scene kind of deal. but the name of our bad is Fembevy. fem as in feminist, and bevy means crew or group.
alpo:
I have dreams like that now and then, but usually they're set in the Terminator universe---I'm behind a bunch of sandbags shooting at oncoming waves of skeletal T800s. And then they get me.