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.
This is the story of my mornings trying to get ready for school (or any other thing i have to do in the morning)...
As I wander aimlessly through my room looking for things to wear I stumble along socks
They are the easiest things to choose to wear yet the hardest...
I never knew putting on two different socks would cause such havoc...
I lay there still and I let you touch me
Crawl up my shirt slowly
Look me in the eyes and Ill close them tightly
Play with my nipples ever so slighty
You know what happened last time
Bruised and swollen hard as a rock
Nip at them with your mouth
Ill pretend to like it
I moan a little
Making noise will distract me
Put your tounge down my troat
Choke me with your toxic breath
Lick your way down my stomach
Okay finishing up a funding proposal and I've seen different variations, but which one is correct.
"grass roots" OR "grassroots"
All you walking dictionaries out there, lemme know.
Just returned from church with my mother. Unitarian Universalism is utterly void of ritual. Ritual is supposed to cast you out of yourself, to broaden you, which makes it the enemy of my comfortable, safe, convenience-ridden lifestyle. I
One great big facade....
DiamondDog's shopping turns into a bit of a rant about why women's pants will never be good enough.