Today I walked out of 'Foundations in Business' right into a girl... sobbing. I'm not even kidding. It was like a car crash on the quad, me looking down, blinking into the winter-sun. I grabbed a hold of her, trying to keep us both steady on our feet, and it was a long time until I figured out that her tears weren't from the collision but something else.

"Hey, darlin'," I said, hand still on her hip. "What's the trouble?"

Turns out, all the effort and research she spent on her thesis was for naught... completely dismissed by the department even after they'd signed off on the project. I can't believe - in this day and age - things like this still happen. So I took her to Murphy's. We had green beer (unofficial St. Patty's Day, RAH!) and grilled chicken and I tried my best to soothe her doubts. It's amazing to me, how callous this circuit can be.

I'll be cheesy for a second and tell you all that I reminded her today's a free-day. Anything that happens today can so obviously be undone. It's not the truth, but at least it made her laugh.

Here's to free days, to green-beer, to being alive and still with it... to enjoying life, despite the downfalls. Cheers.

Today
I want to sit in a window seat
overlook the Chesapeake,
wrapped in cashmere and wool,
Jean Paul Sartre in one hand,
hot cocoa in the other.

I will have none of these things,
but wanting,
wishing,
and never obtaining,
have in no way dissuaded
my desire to dream.

Dear Livejournal,

Sex. No, seriously. Sex. Sexsexsexsexsex. Motherfuckin' sex. Lots of it. I've had sex in some pretty amazing places. With guys. With girls. Sex on the floor, sex on the beach, sex up against the wall. Sex high, sex down low, fucking my brains out when yes and no might have been two very similar things. Naked, hot and sweaty, screwing one another until names have been forgotten sex.

And if I had a brother, a cute, older, or hey, maybe barely even legal brother, with fine abs and an ass that wouldn't stop, hell, I might have even banged him, too. I'm not ashamed.

Sex. Consensual and implied. Sex in person or not. Over the phone sex, over the internet sex, in both the front and backseats of cars sex! Sex with people of power or in positions of authority. Sex when we probably should have known better. Sex in bathrooms, in busy clubs, on couches covered in baddirtywrong fluids, the less said the better!

So yeah, Livejournal. Sex! Inappropriate, nasty, sometimes immoral, with more than one partner, someone's tongue in my ass, my finger in theirs, with my stockings STILL ON SEX. Because being inappropriate is my god-damned RIGHT sex. Because knowing the difference between reality and fantasy makes the rest of us smarter than you SEX. Because I’d probably fuck you with a dildo for being such stupid cocksucking dickheads about this SEX. Because now you’ve gone and offended me sex.

So yeah. Sex, Livejournal. SEX.

I grew up in a small town. Population: 2000. It wasn't "The Corners," but it was small enough for people to know your name, your business, all the bad laundry hanging out on the line.

One day, as my mother was beating the living shit out of me, everyone ignoring it per usual, a knock fell on the front door, screen so scant it barely contained the flies. My mom told me to stay put, and I did, but I managed to hear the old man's voice. Caught a glimpse through the brown slat shutters of my bedroom window. Eighty if he was a day. Gaunt, tired, bald but for a few wisps of white.

Never seen him before, never seen him since.

When my mother came back to me... the memory of her deeds forgotten in the bloodless color of her face, I ask her what he wanted. "He asked for a glass of water." Mother, raised in Catholic schools, then went on to confess that as he handed the emptied glass to her, he said, "Pax vo biscum." Peace be with you. A gentle, but possibly preemptory farewell.

I don't always believe in much, but sometimes... I believe in angels.