anomaly11

yes, my journal entries are long. if you dont feel like reading something long, dont.


falling behind on my journal, falling behind on my life. everything feels amorphous, on the brink, clouded like water before the freeze. i found out the other day that i had met wenley at one of the earlier beach burns, the last one i attended with the troll, and i had been obsessed with her all weekend, doing my dorky annoying boy/puppy dog thing. she doesnt remember, which is good, we both look a lot different now. i think i need to take a break from her, if i dont i'll fall for her, and i can tell that that would come to a bad end. she wants complete freedom, and while i can offer a lot, i also want someone who is mine, a shared sense of priority. ive been thinking about kyrstyn, and how she resented my possesiveness so much, freaked out about how much i loved her and wanted to be with her. she pushed me away over and over in so many ways, often grabbing bystander boys as a prod to distance me further. and yes i was more depressed then, and yes, i get clingy and jealous when im depressed, but i dont need to feel that rejection again, so maybe this time i'll be smart enough to stop it when i can. thats what happened with kyrstyn, she opened herself so fully at the very begining that i was drowned in the connection and my feelings for her and then the rest of the time she spent desperately sexually tangled with ben and pushing me away. i dont want a repeat of that, i couldnt take it so soon. i wonder where she is, in portland? i wonder if she'd ever stumble across this. i wonder if i'll ever see any of my money, except that i know that i wont. so beautiful and so scared, she saw me as weak, but i've come to understand that the true weakness is the fear of being close, vulnerable, letting yourself miss that bond because you're afraid of the greater hurt later. and while that will continue to scare me probably for the rest of my life, i cant help but make that plunge. because if you dont, what really is the point?

i got my sg package yesterday, im very excited about it. we went to an event last night called f(ash)UN! it was a melding of art and fashion and the general burner conceptual pranksterism. there was fabulous eye candy, fuzzy stilted ani-clowns on all fours, a troupe of doll-like dancers in all red and white and black stripes called frou frou ha!, a man covered completely in layers of nylon sausage like phalluses, a unicycle rider in shiny pink lycra body suit (complete with miniature cape), and a collection of silk dresses with photographs of naked womens' bodies modeled by the women whose bodies were in the photographs. i had actually had an idea for a similar project awhile ago, so atleast someone's picking up my motivational slack. the boy was a showstopper in a power suit and fedora which had red ties coming out everywhere that were used to gag and blindfold memebers of the audience until they finally all pulled on the ties and the suit came off, revealing him as a the naked mowhawked freak he is (with the aid of an over-sized felt fig leaf). i got shanghied as a model for a designer that showed up last minute, he dressed me in a ball skirt and bustier both imprinted with a koop-esque devil chick. when there was no time in the show for him to squeeze in his work, he said i could just keep the outfit. yay. wenley was there, as well as some of my housemates and other assorted friends, but i was feeling too sober and anti-social and so after my part of the show i just kept wandering off to sit by myself in corners. dave asked me if i hated him, apropos of the night of our 'family' photoshoot when wenley came over and ended up spending the night with him instead of us. i dont, i didnt like it, and it upset me, but i like and respect dave too much to be mad at him for something that i really have no say over anyway, so now i have this weird free-floating unease without a convinient scapegoat to pin it to.

speaking of goats, the boy took me to the zoo on weds (or two month-iverssary) so we could go to the petting zoo and i could play with goats. the first weekend we spent together he promised me two petting zoos in two months, and of course waited until the last possible minute to come through. he still hasnt produced the second one, but i did get some nice sunny afternoon goat time. i love goats. i want a she-goat sometime later in life that i can milk and care for and make cheese. mmm, pan, you horny devil, cloven footed instigator, hedonistic mischief maker. i think all of those mythilogical connotations really do something for me, because after awhile with goats i do get turned on. although, maybe thats more like after awhile doing anything. anyway, there was this beautiful black goth goat with a long beard and two smooth curved horns that just lay down and let me play with him for awhile. i braided his beard, which really delighted me. after the goats we strolled around the rest of the zoo, stopping to watch the spider monkeys grooming each other and recognizing our own tenderness in their actions. i sighed when we saw the ball python, i still worry about parnassus and stheno, and wish they were here with me.

ben wrote me a message. i havent responded yet, theres so much and so little to talk about, im not sure if i can trust myself to find the line between morbid curiosity, self-inflicted pain, retribution, gushing, cool acceptance, and all of the other melange of emotions that he can inspire in me now. closure would be nice. i cant help missing him still.
i wonder if he's seen kyrstyn and still talks to her? god, i dont want to know about that. so theres one subject i know better than to bring up. his tone was distant but almost fond. so strange to be so severed from what was the most intimate thing for me. strange that people can even survive that, not to mention be happy. im glad i moved, glad for the boy, glad for my new life. but sometimes i still yearn for pieces of the old one. maybe thats nirvana, splicing and melding all of the best pieces of your life, your loves, your dreams and actions. a giant orgiastic performance art piece with no annoyances or resentments. a quiet naked hug with all of the people who touched and inspired you. a sparkling party in the middle of the dessert surrounded by endless sea, where everyone has their perfect high, creativity flows like honey from bee to twisted bee, and the night is reincarnated infinitely as the moon sings a smiing siren song.

so, im having a dillemma of pragmatism. should i model for a bad photographer that pays well because i really need the money? i hate these decisions. i hope some of the photographers from the fetish ball contact me. im getting the travel itch again, but cant persue it without some funding.