By Jeff Walsh
With his acoustic album "Motorcycle Childhood," Tyson Meade uses spare arrangement and raw vocals to share details of his life. It's very different from his other role as the openly gay lead singer of the Chainsaw Kittens, where he used to take to the stage in lipstick, tights and mini-skirts.
By Janis Ian
In a small town somewhere at the foot of the Appalachian Mountains, teachers prepare for the coming semester. Professors grimly consult lesson plans, breaking in new Dockers ("I still wear the same size I wore when I graduated," they brag, bellies hanging over their straining waistlines like blubber off Ahab's whaler). Dormitories are surrounded by troops of exterminators bent on eradicating last year's mess before the health department shows up for a final check. The grounds are infested with newly arrived victims, ready to give the university their all and terrified that anything beyond the boundaries of the parents' homes will eat them alive. If they only knew.
By Janis Ian
I am standing with my tit caught in a wringer while a mall-haired technician tells me to relax. I am thinking that if men had to put their testicles in a vise as part of a yearly physical, we would have a cure for the common cold by now. I am very frightened.
The pink slip came as we were leaving on vacation: "We have found what appears to be a routine abnormality..." What's routine about an abnormality? I decide to put on a brave front and joke that in all my life no one has ever called me routine; then I burst into tears. Later on I do the grown-up thing and panic, furtively examining my breasts in the mirror for changes. I'm afraid that if I touch them to check for lumps, I will set something off. I wish they were smaller. I wish they were removable. I wish they were on anyone but me.
volunteering. intellectual illumination. an apology.
So hey, I haven't written much in a while.
So I've got a significant other, I suppose. I'm pretty sure I'd call him my "boyfriend," but I've come to the understanding that this is something one asks, and not something one assumes.
At any rate, so much to talk about.
It all started about two months ago. I was talking to Alex online, and he told me that he was talking to this guy Alfred; someone who had contacted me, but I didn't feel any "chemistry," and I don't think he did either. So, nothing came of that. Alex was SO upset about this. He accused me of all sorts of things. In the end, he and Stef, my two best friends, said that I should give people a chance, and to lower my expectations a bit. So, I did, sorta.
I tried locating those lost seven hours...but to no avail. Oh well, all is good in the House of Debauchery.
What is wrong with strait friends? Maybe its just my strait friends. Take my best friend for example; She is one of my favorite people in the whole world, and I love her to death, but every now and again she will say or do something amazingly rude, or make some narrow minded assumption. There is a huge disparity there, something that we can't seem to overcome. On some level we just don't understand where eachother is coming from.
Long introductions, and a peak into a strange and, oh dare I say ( sya it say it say it)- Nay! I shall not. It gives me such mirth to watch you sqrium with excitment, I bid thee.......read on............
Matt remarked that he often pretends not to understand what
I'm the Queen of France!