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.
Today in my Acting class we were doing our autodramas
for those of you who don't know an Autodrama is when you create a play for your self and whoever you want to pull into it and really the only rule is that the play has to be about you or some part of your life, and I decided to make my play into a sort of coming out story.
I can only hope this link works correctly, otherwise feel free to watch this on youtube. The first game since the bombing and the fans took over the National Anthem from Rene Rencourt( The official Anthem singer for as long as I can remember). Typically, the fans force Rene to Drown-out the cheers toward the end of the Anthem. He increases his volume(He's an former opera singer), but this time he gestured for the fans to take over. You've got to check this out, it clearly illustrates the spirit of Bostonians. The video can also be seen on foxsports.com.
The Colombian congress is debating about approving gay marriage and it seems that it will be approved (I hope so!). I never thought that here something like that would be approved or even debated because we are a religious, mostly conservative country, but things are getting better.
Just the fact that you are able to read this is a miracle, a side effect of four teens who overcame their deepest pain to try to do something positive.
If I've lost you here, bear with me. You may see a bit of yourself in what we have to say.
My name's Alex, I'm thirteen, and I live in the middle of nowhere in a small town just like many other small towns in our country. I can't use any real names here, but what I write is true. I have hopes, dreams, and secrets.
Actually, too many secrets. Which is part of why I'm here tonight, pouring out my soul.
My lost soul.
This is so wrong.
So very fucking wrong.
What happened in Boston... shocked me. Jarred me. Disturbed me. Honestly, I haven't a good word for the feeling.
i would just like to be quiet with someone who understands the ways of why i can't continue right now, i feel so anchored to something which wants to keep me unwell. how do you cope with such a strange and frightening body? i hate it, i hate it! i don't want to take too-many medicines. i don't want to be afraid of turning the page.
i need to believe in love like some people believe in faerie-tales but more often than not i find myself even more alone within it. i wish you could visit me more often, i can't stand waiting in this springtime.
I'm sure everyone has heard by now what happened at the hallowed Boston Marathon, so I won't bore you with the details. There's an inordinate amount of information online and elsewhere, some of which is true, some not exactly correct. Make no mistake, this was indeed an act of terror, it's just too early to make assumptions on who's responsible. Fortunately, the people of Boston and surrounding communities are pretty tough, Literally and figuratively. This is the kind of shit that just embolden's Bostonians to act.