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Raised by Wolves

Gaki: writing myself Real

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Late Great Update; power to the Heartbreak Crew!!

So I was at an East Bay Rats party the weekend before this past one. Never been to one before; contrary to my usual anti-social tendencies, I actually had a really good time. A bike club just wouldn't be a bike club if they didn't know how to drink, and how to brawl. Props to Claire for inviting me, because she's cool like that.

Those couple of days were kind of cold, here in the East Bay. Overcast turned the world slate grey, as though Jack Frost were leaving us a goodbye kiss before walking out of our lives for another year.

Loren came to visit on Saturday, along with his girl, and I froze my ass off down at Fisherman's Wharf, and nearly drowned in tourists. I managed to keep my berserker frenzy in check, for which I was thanked, and instead made do with watching the sea lions lounge on their platforms out by the pier, wasting a lazy Saturday and ignoring the humans going by.

Padding down the asphalt veins of the City by the Bay on Sunday, the cold found itself unable to assail the populace for any longer, torn to shreds by the flow of sunlight. Or possibly by the mob of people making all the noise they were good for, downtown. The Pride Parade. And it lifted my spirits a bit; all the world's most beautifully ugly and hideously beautiful people gathered there to celebrate the slow turning of the tide in a war that is fought on all fronts, daily and painfully, by everyone, whether or not they realize it. And as I rode the up Van Ness, the flotsam of conversation solved the weather puzzle for me. "Why is it so sunny? 'Cause of all these happy gay-ass fools, yo."

I laughed out loud at that, and intermittently throughout the day, because it was so fucking true.

And after I finished my city errands, heading back through the carcass of the waning parade, thinking too much and fighting the gloomfairy, who should cross my path but Thailan Nguyen. Smiling flash, looking beautiful, and as always, riding the spirit. She found me with a "Hey!" and left me with a hug and a selection of magic treats, so I could bid the gloom goodbye for a while.

I don't worry too* much about matters of the soul -- which is to say, I've worried about them quite a bit already, and am done for the moment. But sometimes I wonder if a soul isn't so much a thing you have, as a thing that radiates, reflecting from others who sometimes hand it back to you. And you build it out of those things, real pieces from reflections, and we trade them, break them, wait for others to show us more, or anything at all, and maybe then take the pieces and hold on to them for a moment, before we fling them at others and watch them fall.

Like fireworks.

The weekend of the fourth was fun, too. Lots of drinking and cheesy movies with the Redwood City clan; and I bought myself yet more manga to take up space in my room that gets smaller by the hour, and I watched the Hulk, because monsters need heroes too.

To everyone in the Heartbreak crew right now, because there are a lot of you out there right now and you know exactly who you are, hang tough. Nobody's throwing in the towel yet. Shake your head, walk it off, have a glass of water. Breathe. I'll be doing the same damn thing. I'm right there with you.




Oooh, easy does it on the metal food group
You will
swallow some tacks. You are a little
weird, maybe not so much in a good
way. Buy a
yellow tie and wear it on your head.

What horrible
Edward Gorey Death will you die?

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you by Quizilla

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Go easy on that.
You will drink too much gin. Not the worst way to
die, but you won't remember too much of your
life. Hey, at least you made some people laugh!

What horrible Edward Gorey Death will you die?
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interesting enough, i happen to like gin somewhat more than other clear hard liquors

"Gin Makes a Man Mean!" Milk & Cheese, by Evan Dorkin. Slave Labor Graphics.

Speaking of, are you a drinker? The somethingth annual Jager Olympics (as in, Jagermeister) are being held at my friend's house in Redwood City on Saturday Night. It's on the way to my house, but I don't know what your schedule's like, or if you're in the mood for that type of adventure. It's just a house party, nothing fancy, and people are welcome to crash there.

(Personally, I'm not a big Jager fan, I just feel at home when surrounded by drunk and rowdy people. My plans, as always, are flexible.)

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