Tonight, I have been sitting here for hours, trying to come up with something... some story that is more uplifting than my last few weeks worth of posts... I could come up with nothing.
I know it's there, I know that what has been happening to me as of late is somehow and somewhere forging some great new person out of this pulsating mass of water, protein, iron and tears....
I am feeling that somewhere inside me, all of this ... this shite, this unrealistic treatment.. is somehow planting a seed. I can actually already feel the seed there. It think its already been planted. It's just that now I have to be extremely careful what I feed it.
It could grow either way.
I know I have tried really hard to not falter in my treatment of the people close to me, I know that my principles and theories relating to that are rare, but I totally believe that they are right. I don't want to continue ranting about that.
Saturday night, after that Gimpy scenario, I actually got together with Leah and her friends and planned on heading out to a house party in East Van.
We hooked up at her apartment, drank a bit with her roommate and then finally called a cab.
I was expecting a house party like the house party I was used to, you know, maybe 50 people, all trying to hang out in the kitchen
This party though, was different, and I was shocked. It was the CBC crew from a portion of the staff here in Vancouver, and there were probably around 150 people in total that were there.
People in the kitchen, in the smoking tent in the back yard, in the karaoke tent behind the smoking tent, people upstairs It was packed.
I was wearing my harness underneath my vintage suit, my date was a prostitute from 1922.
So at this point, do I tell my story?
Or do I contemplate whether I am which of the following on this site:
Privately public, or publicly private?
It certainly is a different side to the life I am currently living. On the one hand, I am so full of sorrow and grief, yet moments like Saturday night keep getting in the way of my being completely miserable.
I know it's there, I know that what has been happening to me as of late is somehow and somewhere forging some great new person out of this pulsating mass of water, protein, iron and tears....
I am feeling that somewhere inside me, all of this ... this shite, this unrealistic treatment.. is somehow planting a seed. I can actually already feel the seed there. It think its already been planted. It's just that now I have to be extremely careful what I feed it.
It could grow either way.
I know I have tried really hard to not falter in my treatment of the people close to me, I know that my principles and theories relating to that are rare, but I totally believe that they are right. I don't want to continue ranting about that.
Saturday night, after that Gimpy scenario, I actually got together with Leah and her friends and planned on heading out to a house party in East Van.
We hooked up at her apartment, drank a bit with her roommate and then finally called a cab.
I was expecting a house party like the house party I was used to, you know, maybe 50 people, all trying to hang out in the kitchen
This party though, was different, and I was shocked. It was the CBC crew from a portion of the staff here in Vancouver, and there were probably around 150 people in total that were there.
People in the kitchen, in the smoking tent in the back yard, in the karaoke tent behind the smoking tent, people upstairs It was packed.
I was wearing my harness underneath my vintage suit, my date was a prostitute from 1922.
So at this point, do I tell my story?
Or do I contemplate whether I am which of the following on this site:
Privately public, or publicly private?
It certainly is a different side to the life I am currently living. On the one hand, I am so full of sorrow and grief, yet moments like Saturday night keep getting in the way of my being completely miserable.