Yaoi Con 2008 – UPDATED

Was awesome.

And I have the most amazing friends ever.

End of story.

Lord, I feel rusty.

I’ve been going through some personal things that have just made my writing horrible.

Lately, anyway.

I mean.
I can’t write for shit.
Really.

I want to.
It’s just hard.

Like. All of my emotional energy is being preoccupied. And I need that energy to make AWPs that feel right to me when I read them.

I honestly feel like I’m being robbed.

I feel a lot of things that I’m not sure about right now. Ha.
So. I don’t know.
Maybe it’s just me being overly irritated with having writer’s block again.

I don’t think I ever officially came out and said it, but I’m single again.
In theory.
And it’s causing me a little bit of a headache.

I wont go into detail about it, but let’s just say the “in theory” part isn’t a lot of fun.

And I’m just basically trying to get things all figured out in general.
It’s all very mentally time consuming.

Wish me luck, kids.

“When I think of a landscape, I am thinking of a time.” A poem inspired by Adrienne Rich.

A repetition in progress flickers through

I am not nostalgia embodied
Clever and new, though
It might feel

Drifting
Not away
But to

Forward
Not against
But next

I am reciting the lines
Familiarity brings comfort
I am otherwise lost

Once again I pray for redemption inside the chamber

This is why I’m hot.

I’m not quite sure where to even start with this post.

So I’m just going to wing it.
[Like that's any different from normal.]

I was on Facebook today.
Minutes ago, actually.

And I came across someone I went to St. Isidore with.
Several people, to be honest.
And I was looking at their profiles.
Who they had become/Who they are becoming.
What schools they were attending.
Their friends.

And I started noticing this trend.

Standford. Pepperdine. Yale.
UC this. UC that.
Attending prestigious school’s 1-10.
Every single one of them.

And I started to think.
To days back when we were all in the same navy and plaid uniformed pool.
To the time when all of our GPAs read 4.0
When our lives revolved around success, even at that young age.
Crossing our fingers that we might be worthy enough to be accepted into one of the overly-priced gender appropriate Catholic high schools we were expected to attend.

And why it was.
That once I got there.
Once I had achieved that nine year long process.
Once I was groomed and poised to take my place on academic par with my classmates.
I left.

I failed out, actually.
I was doing terrible.

So I ended up at public school. Much to my dismay.
A school payed for by taxes, and not a $10,000 a year tuition.
Expecting to be shot. Literally.
Because of my convoluted perception of the American school system.

But as I adjusted, and time went by.
The new environment gave me the setting I needed to really come into myself.
To feel comfortable with who I was.
And for that experience alone, I am grateful -for once- that I failed.

But now, here I am. It’s 2008, and I’m attending community college.
I’m driving a ‘92 Volvo.
I have short purple hair.
A lip piercing.
I’m liberal.
I don’t attend church.
I am nothing like the people I grew up with.

My perspective on life was violently and thankfully altered at the age of 14.
I have so many people in my life that I wouldn’t have even met. Wouldn’t have even understood or liked if not for that.

However-
I also feel a lingering sense of entitlement.
I have always felt that I was meant for something important.
That my life had meaning.
That in all aspects, I would live comfortably and happily.
And now…it seems like I’m approaching another one of those forks.
Where I’m going to make another decision that’s going to alter my life.

I mean…I’m coming from the same background as the people I consider to be headed for success.
I’m not saying that everyone else with different experiences won’t be successful.
I’m just saying that I feel like I should be just as capable of making myself as disgustingly wealthy as the conservative assholes I left behind.

And I am capable.
I want to be able to provide for a wife someday.
I want her to be proud of me.
And I want her to never worry about anything.

And I know it doesn’t come easy.
I know.
But I want it.
To prove to myself, but also to everyone else that I’m not just some wayward child heading nowhere.
I don’t want to be stuck in some shit dead-end job for the rest of my life.
And no, I don’t mind working for it.

When I was ten, they said I wouldn’t graduate the eighth grade.
When I was sixteen, they said I wouldn’t graduate high school.
Now they’re saying I won’t finish college.
And when I say “they” I mean friends, family, and teachers alike.

I’d like to know why I’m the only one who always knows that I’m going to be okay.
I have always known.
I don’t know how or why I know. But I do.

And like every other time that I’ve been a success.
When I get what I want.
I’m going to rub it in everyone’s disbelieving faces.

This is what hate looks like.

This was written May 3rd, 2008.
It was the oldest thing in my drafts.
The reason I’m posting it now is because…well.
I don’t know. xD
I can’t even remember who/what I’m talking about.

It’s interesting, though.
To me, anyway.
I’m hardly ever mad.
This is just scary.

Enjoy! Haha.

_________________________________________________
Brace for impact
You don’t know what this house is capable of.

Blood will be spilled without remorse.
Telling smiles will greet your overconfidence.
There’s something lurking.
Tell me, do you know fear?
The kind that wraps around you without announcing its presence.
This is my gift to you.

You will be punished.

In my time, I have met beasts.
Real, live, human beasts.
Creatures distorted by disease and torture.

Even they aren’t as filthy as you are.

I find affection for the grossest of beings.
But you.
Are disgusting.
You are vile.
And I can smell your putrescence.

You haggard, wretched thing.
I wish I had words for my disgust.

I will destroy you.
I will destroy you.
I will destroy you.

Brace for impact.
You don’t know what this mind is capable of.

I can play your game.
Scum of your level can’t possibly stand to me.

You will fall.

You will learn to be fucking humble.
You will learn your filthy fucking place.

And you will stay there.

You will not come out.

You will not show your face.

Do you understand?

Brace for impact.
I’m coming for you.

Ta-da?

While You Were Art

Feel me, lucid dreamer
In your context
I approached you in a picture
Motionless even then
I put you to sleep

_______________________________________________

I might add onto this, might not.