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Below are 20 journal entries, after skipping by the 20 most recent ones recorded in
BadAzzRA's Blurty:
| Wednesday, February 4th, 2004 | |
| 11:47 pm | Why I am going to fail freshman composition Assignment - Describe an object in your room, using show words. Make sure the readers sense of taste, smell, sight, sound and touch is stimulated by your description. Lotion Its sits beside me on my nightstand. Comfort. When I can?t sleep, and am tossing and turning, it waits to calm me down, give me peace. There is no itch that it cannot soothe, no tumultuous desire it can?t assuage. This horrid reaction of my body it will always fix, at least temporarily. My bottle of Ch?vre au Lait lotion. The smell oft lingers on my hands. Like sweetened milk, mixed with a hint of sweat, though generally that is my own. The bottle itself is hardly an imposing thing. It does not dwarf the magazines that also share my nightstand, and also help me pass those sleepless nights. But it stands, towering in my own thoughts, a symbol of my peace of mind. When I look at it I realize that no matter how rough my day has been, this 10 inch bottle of plastic catharsis is at home waiting for me. Its rounded top is broken only by the spout, which juts out of the bottle, and ends in a beak like apparatus. This spout pours out release and relief with every pump. It usually takes more than a few pumps though, to get enough. The surface of the bottle is smooth to the touch. The lotion within, has a smooth and creamy texture. It?s white, resembling cream that has been left out in the cold for just a bit too long and has begun to solidify. Seemingly nothing special really, but then, there are some who wouldn't understand. When it dispenses lotion, it makes a gentle slurping sound that is usually covered up by the sound of my fan. You can call that onomatopoeia, but I call it a prelude to heaven, if only for a little bit. The taste of the lotion is something for debate. The bottle advertises it as having a milk and honey nature, but I doubt the taste in any way gives credence to that claim. This author, though, resigned himself to his duties, and submitted and tasted. I can fully well pledge that it tastes nothing like milk and honey. It has something of a hint of sweetness, but if that?s the honey, then the milk previously mentioned must be curdled. The closest one could describe it is a bit of honey dolloped over snot that has been sitting in plastic. Remarkably, that is how I would describe the texture as well. Perhaps this is not indicative of the brand at all, but is instead the result of a factory worker just having an upsetting day. This bottle, this cornucopia of relaxation and self expression, is what bids me goodnight each evening before I sleep, and greets me each morning when I wake up. I have no girlfriend you see. And while in the past it and its sisters (Lubridema and Vaselina) have forced me to lie to my parents and say I was using the bathroom, I now realize that, it?s nothing to be ashamed about. A lot of people have dry skin. Current Mood: amused Current Music: Violin Concerto No 3 K216 Brahms |
| Tuesday, February 3rd, 2004 | |
| 4:42 am | |
| Monday, February 2nd, 2004 | |
| 3:38 am | Lies about love We are a liars, because the truth of yesterday becomes a lie tomorrow, whereas letters are fixed, and we live by the letter of truth. The love I feel for my friend, this year, is different from the love I felt last year. If it were not so, it would be a lie. Yet we reiterate love! love! love! as if it were a coin with a fixed value instead of a flower that dies, and opens a different bud. D H Lawrence Current Mood: shivers Current Music: nocturne # 6 I think. its Chopin at any rate |
| Friday, January 30th, 2004 | |
| 9:13 pm | I IMed my sister and she told me my mom had pneumonia. I was to say the least a bit on edge, but Kris assured me everything was fine now. Still :( Im worried. Doctors can be wrong about things. |
| 4:41 am | I turned down a redhead. Dammit Im on a roll |
| 4:25 am | Going through Napster I notice the Backstreet Boys have a "Hits Volume 1" as if it was to be the first of many. Yet there is no Volume 2. My sleep deprived mind finds this utterly hilarious |
| Thursday, January 29th, 2004 | |
| 1:28 am | I am so totally livid right now. We were on rounds, and asked some residents to remove an offensive picture. We asked very nicely, even joking with them, saying we didnt think it was a huge deal, but it was against residence hall policy. The little weenie in the room started arguing with us. I was alright Mr.Pre-law, lets go. I told him he could either take it down now, or we could take it down and write him up. He asked for what, I told him, failure to comply with a University Official, Belligerence, Offensive material on the door. He continued arguing it was not offensive, as it showed no nudity. We again reiterated our boss lived 10 feet away, and he would have them take it down. This we were certain of, because he is rather strict and is always on us to make sure residents remove any offensive material at all. And this, was certainly offensive. We finally said we'd go get the bossman and they could argue with him. So we went and got the bossman and rousted him out of bed. Expecting him to back us up, we went back to the door. I knocked. This time the roommate of the earlier mentioned weenie opened it. "What the fuck guys" was his first comment. ooook. We again asked him to take it down. He said he didnt see why he should. Bossman told him it was inappropriate, and didnt seem a huge deal, but it indeed did need to come down. The guy said it wasn't inappropriate, and Bossman in some brilliant fucking strategy I have yet to understand, decided to agree. Thats right, in front of residents who already didnt feel like listening to us, he decided to take the residents side. Then the resident said "You know what guys, I have an 8 oclock class. Just deal with it" and shut the door in our faces, proving that it was indeed possible to make us look even more impotent. Jason, not quite finished with destroying whatever bit of respect still lingered for our position, told us to just leave the picture up, which the residents no doubt heard. Im not one to easily take offense, but dammit. This is his policy he's always harping on. He's had us take down far less offensive pictures then that one. I don't give a fuck if we're in the wrong, you don't contradict someone in front of their subordinates or what have you. The simple fact is, we are expected to take charge of these halls and we cant fucking do our job if the Boss contradicts what we say when we try to enforce the rules |
| Monday, January 26th, 2004 | |
| 3:13 pm | Just a disclaimer since some have stumbled on my journal and been asking questions. Aside from Justin and my friends from back in Abilene, all names are changed to protect the innocent. I don't kiss and tell entirely :) |
| Saturday, January 24th, 2004 | |
| 7:35 am | Rather then going to bed at a decent hour, I have been playing Prince of Persia for the last 7 straight. Its a beautiful game, and highly addicting. So since I saw that it was 7:15/7:20 or so, and realized that I would not be up in time for any semblance of what normal sleeping humans called lunch, I went off to McDonalds with all but the last of the gift certificates my mommy gave me in hand. 2 McGriddles later, I was ready. Still, I couldn't help but giggle at the new sign McDonalds has advertising how their salad gets tossed fresh all day. |
| Thursday, January 22nd, 2004 | |
| 2:56 am | Sleep Today was uneventful Went to my intro to acting class for the first time. Heard a voice talking about how he was just arrested for MIP, turned around and saw it was one of my residents. The look on his face was great. The hiking/kayaking class, forevermore identified as adventure class, was fun as well. I think I'm hitting my stride as far as humor goes with the group. Plus they were impressed when I changed into my shorts without taking off my pants in front of them My history of apartheid africa class. Good lord. 3 hours is brutal. I have got to, got to, got to get to bed earlier. Its impossible to stay awake on 4 hours sleep for 3 straight hours of lecture. We watched a video made on apartheid. I've long since decided, its good to be white. bedtime, this was an attempt to restart my "update every day" promise Current Mood: sleepy Current Music: watching True Life |
| Wednesday, January 21st, 2004 | |
| 4:53 am | tooooooooooo tired to be remotely gonzo *sigh* Yeah well obviously since there were no reports of a crazed gunmen on top of a building here in Schoolsville, things went fine. No I wouldn't go that far, though I always believe in taking people with you if you are going to die. Probably best that my dreams of becoming an airline pilot ended at age 10. In other news, I need to go to bed. But first...Little Ozzy and the Loud Music Little Ozzy is my resident stoner. The other RA's and I gave him this nickname so that he wouldnt know we were talking about him. Little Ozzy is a Steve Buscemi looking kid from a tropical island somewhere I won't mention. Fast forward past all his other incidents, the one from last night is the one Im going to write about. 5:30 in the morning. Im in bed, in the middle of a book I had bought earlier that day. All of a sudden my door starts to vibrate from bass. I wonder what in the hell is going on, and go outside to check things out. As I open my door, I hear music. Coming from 6 or 7 doors down. This would be considered loud even during normal hours. But this was 5:30 in the fucking morning. I kicked at his door. No answer. I kicked harder. The music turned down some. kicked even harder. It turned down all the way. I heard shuffling and it took at least 3 or so minutes for him to open the door. Finally he opened it a crack. "Dude what in the fuck are you doing playing it so loud? Its 5 in the morning" "Oh I thought it was 6" At this point my jaw just hung open as I struggled to come up with a reply to logic like that. Finally I just shook my head and said "Just keep it turned down" Current Mood: tired Current Music: What else? Ben Folds |
| Friday, January 16th, 2004 | |
| 3:51 pm | Ryan I love you. |
| 2:52 am | Here I go, again on my own *deep breath* Here we go I'm a hypochondriac of the 1st degree. I convince myself...things...illnesses...ailments. Many are the late nights I have stayed up reading and worrying, petrified that I have this or that. Since I came out, my number one fear has been the hiv. The hiv is life changing, altering, destroying. On 3 separate occasions I have convinced myself that I have it. The first, was shortly after the beginning of my first semester at college. I was doing new things, with new people. I was living on my own. I had sex for the first time. Of course I was protected. But that didnt stop me from worrying, when I came down with a horrid case of the flu following on the tail end of a bout with a cold. At that point, I figured I had a weakened immune system, getting so sick right after I got over an earlier ailment. So I started freaking out. Spending long hours reading up on the hiv and its symptoms. Personal stories. Anything and everything I thought might give me a clue. Then I went in for my first test. In those days, the turn around was 2 or 3 days for results. The benefit of having a major hospital on campus. Obviously my results came back negative, else this story would have nowhere else to go, and I wouldn't be sitting up worrying right now. But from that point on, I vowed to limit myself, contain my libido. Ah the weak-willed. We sound so resolute, and are anything but...The groping hand of a cute boy, the seductive smile on his lips, and instantly we have an erect divining rod in our pants, searching for a wet spot in the dark. My second test, was again approached with much trepidation. This time I was convinced for some 8 or 9 months that I had the hiv. I moved back into my dorms with my friend from home. What should have been the semester of my life, was instead cast into a shadow. Every time I felt happy, saw someone else being happy, you name it, my only thought was about my having the hiv. Finally I screwed up my courage and tested again. This was a few days before my 21st birthday. Fearing life altering news, I hurriedly went and got Pete, my dragon, tattooed on my left shoulder. Then a few days later, right before my soccer class, I went to the clinic to get the news. Negative. So many months or worrying, so many heavy weights, disappearing in the blink of an eye, the shuffle of a paper. 6 words lifted the veil from my existence, and in that moment, the world had a whole new shade of color. Lets just say, I've never looked happier to be in soccer class. So now we come to me. 2 years later. Before the last test, I had made one indiscretion. An incident of bottoming, sans condom, with someone I convinced myself I was in love with. He was a bit of a former porn star, as I found out, so of course I was a bit worried. Now I've made several indiscretions. I've topped about 9 guys, all without condoms. 2 of those same guys, I've bottomed for, also sans condom. Thankfully I'm a top. I dont like to bottom, and only do so in the heat of the moment. Those 2 instances were only 1 time each. Nor do I ever let people "finish the deal". I've never had someone cum inside me. Still, not exactly the safest of avenues that I've pursued. So for about 2 years I lived in abject fear that I had again done something to expose myself. The last time I was so afraid, I had gotten over the fear of dying. I finally reasoned, no man knows the hour of his death. Even if I found out in the next 15 minutes that I have terminal stage 3 cancer and 4 months to live, I could walk out in the street in front of a bus and make those 4 months rather moot... What I fear is what it would do to my mother. The agony of having to tell her what her son is facing, would kill her, or very near. I love my mommie. Love my daddy too, but I'm a mama's boy. She and my dad have already sacrificed so much for me. They've near worked themselves to death to pay for my college and to make sure I had money when I needed it. So now I fear that I might have let them down in a moment of weakness. But finally, one way or another, tomorrow by 3 pm I will have put an end to 2 years of panic attacks. No longer will I live in this purgatory, where I can grow neither way, but instead exist with only doubt. Doubt that I may have it and doubt that I may not. I write this to you dear journal, because I know how stupid it sounds. I let my life be ruled by fear because I feel safer in doubt. Im so enveloped in myself that I forget that no matter what the answer I have by 3 pm tomorrow, my life is still better than that of a good majority of people on this planet. But dear journal, you are all I have. There is no one I can think of here in Lubbock that I would open up to should I receive the worst news. The price of being a loner... Dear lord just give me a chance yet again. Current Mood: scared Current Music: Learn to Live With What You Are - Ben Folds |
| Sunday, January 11th, 2004 | |
| 12:42 am | I didnt say lay down, I said LAY UP I have redeemed myself. Mike, whom I had such...erection problems with came over again. Damn the boy is fine. Hella nice body. And did I give in to nerves this time? Hell no. We did things right this time. No more losing my hardon and prematurely ejaculating. From the start I had a different mindset. I was a champion boxer, prepping for the final, ultimate bout. I was betting my last 100 on a horse. I was getting ready for the ultimate world series. This was to be where I would prove myself! The test came again. Would I content myself with a few quick thrusts and give up? Never!!! This was for all the apples, and my the survival of my reputation was on me. I went to work with a vengeance, and words of determination and strength entered into my head!. WE SHALL GO ON TO THE END. We shall fuck while french kissing, we shall fuck on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing excitement, and growing cocks waving in the air. We shall fuck, and fuck hard. We shall fuck on the beds, we shall fuck on the floors, we shall fuck bent over chairs and while watching Chappelle Show on Comedy central. We shall never surrender to premature orgasm, and even if, one or both of us does cum, then we shall wait a few minutes and carry on the struggly, until, in good time, a final orgasm, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the horny! one last thought w00t!!! |
| Saturday, January 10th, 2004 | |
| 5:08 pm | Thanksgiving Redux This has been on my to-do list for quite awhile. Thanksgiving I went back home. It was a bit boring like Abilene always is, but Justin was in town so we got to suffer together. Friday night, Justin invited me out to his town for a party with some friends of his. Justin lives in a small town about 20 minutes outside of where I live. Being the good friend I am, I hate to drive anywhere that takes longer than 5 minutes. So I balked. Finally he convinced me, and gave me directions. Turns out, this party was out in the country. I half expected banjos, but I dutifully wrote down the directions and got in my car and took off for what I most certainly hoped would not be a hootenanny. A ho-down would be tolerable, but no sir! No hootenanny. After getting a bit lost, I finally made it out to the house. There was a fire burning in the front yard (check) and people throwing cups of gas onto it during odd moments. Other then that, it was a pretty normal affair. A bunch of people I didnt know gathered around talking. But then, the law showed up. Then the law started talking. Then the law started drinking. Then the law, upon receiving a call on his radio, informed the other officer that he was busy, all the while holding a beer in hand. I have never been so impressed in my life. Shrugging it off, I sat down with my beer to rejoin the conversation around the fire. Another officer showed up, and joined in the revelry. About 15 minutes later, I heard clicking coming from near the house. I turn and see a group of the party goers, including the officers, clustered around something. As I get closer, I realize the law are now dry firing their guns, while drinking alcohol. The guns also got pointed in everybodys direction as they were examining and passing them around. No worries, we were reassured. They're empty... So yeah. I want to be a cop now |
| Tuesday, December 30th, 2003 | |
| 11:51 pm | Goals for the remainder of the break Fill up on chili and baked beans with Will and Brian. Go to crowded movie theatre. See who can make the most people change seats. Have sex with someone and at climax, call out my own name to be continued |
| Monday, December 29th, 2003 | |
| 2:16 am | Conversations on Gay.com Matt-Tex: yo! OurHero:yo ho OurHero:ho OurHero:pirate song, not calling you a ho Matt-Tex:I swear Im getting so damned tired of hearing what a good fuck u are OurHero:lol sorry. I'll start keeping my pants up around your friends from now on. ruffrider81:hi OurHero:whats up? ruffrider81:my cock u? OurHero:just busy fucking your mom. OurHero:She's a tad loose though. OurHero:Think you could get her a thighmaster next christmas? ruffrider81:Thats cold I love seasonal humor, even lowbrow |
| Saturday, December 27th, 2003 | |
| 7:27 pm | I feel the need to write again today. My last entry was the result of my mother's laptop fucking up on me. I had just watched the last 45 minutes of Requiem for a Dream. This movie has always been a favorite of mine, just from technical and aesthetic points of view. But watching it the other night, at an already low point in my life, disgusted at myself and my inability...inability is too strong a word. I just don't want to control my urges. I know I should, but the desire is getting less and less strong. At any rate, Requiem is about drugs, on a simple level, but its more about addiction. Any kind of addiction. Darrin Aronofsky, the director, says as much. Addiction to drugs. Addiction to love. Addiction to hope. Watching it on IFC at 3:00 in the morning, something resonated with me. To the characters, this addiction ceased being an addiction and instead became a normal part of life, much to their detriment. In effect, I dont want that. The movie crystallized the fear that had been gnawing at the back of my mind for some time now. Im becoming everything I've secretly feared. Im not an addict. That would be too simple, remove too much of the blame from me. I can stop any time I want to (why is it that sounds familiar?) but the part of me that says "No, you dont need to do this" just doesn't kick into gear. I know I can summon up the willpower to stop, I just never really try. I really need to start turning off AIM. I get interrupted and it just jars anything I had flowing through my fingers. Rather then prattle on when I no longer have the glow, I'll just close it now. Besides, I have a date tonight. Nothing substantial for it. He lives too far away, and so do I. But he's damn good looking and apparently played football at my high school when I went there. Good kisser too... |
| Wednesday, December 24th, 2003 | |
| 4:11 am | This is NOT poetry In a naked embrace, I know acceptance. When we are at our most vulnerable. At last acceptance Then we cum. I am again "dude" He is the same. For a while, I no longer need acceptance. Until the next Lord G_d save me from this. Grant me the strength to effect the change I know I must find within myself. |
| Saturday, December 20th, 2003 | |
| 7:26 pm | Some Random Posts on my TJ Awareness Bulletin Board 1. TJ has a black belt in Tae Kwon Do 2. TJ is a history major 3. In some parts of Asia, TJ is known as "He Who Trips Over A Body Part That Is Not A Leg" 4.TJ once took a bus trip from Abilene to Pennsylvania and was solicited for drugs on 4 separate occasions, but only twice for prostitution, forcing TJ to conclude that twice as many Greyhound passengers would rather have TJ high than selling his body. 5. On a very special Saved by the Bell, TJ, with the help of a plucky orphan, gave an 8 year old boy in a wheelchair the courage to walk and simultaneously learned the true meaning of Christmas |