This weekend was the first practice of the school ultimate frisbee team/club. It was completely awesome. I forgot how much I like ultimate frisbee. It's one of the few sports I'm halfway decent at, and the people on the team are ridiculously wonderful, sweet, fun people. The only downside was that my shoulders, face and neck are sunburnt. Which hurts. But oh well.

A song I wrote, sort of to blow off steam.

No Dostoevsky Tonight

Some nights I can deal
With Raskolnikov
And such
Some nights it seems
That even Wilde
Is too much

There will be no Dostoevsky tonight
No more Russian angst and blight
I had a bad day, and I'm sorry to say
That I can't read Dostoevsky tonight

Some nights I need calm
So I read Neruda
In the dark

I've been listening to a millieu of music from various musicals of late. Mostly Gypsy and Les Miz. It entertains me, and Ethel Merman seems to counteract depression.

I'm not sure where this came from, but it's how I'm feeling tonight. It's not about anyone specific, just written to an impulse, a thought, I suppose.

The Masochist's Love Song

Use me, take what you want from me, then cast me away
Hurt me, tear me into pieces so I can finally let myself cry

I'll be whatever you want me to be
Any depraved creature of your twisted fancy

Hello there.

These days I feel I fit the literary/social stereotype of the teenage gay boy. The kind of kid who's the subject of some 'young adult' novel, titled 'Not Like Other Boys' or some such nonsense. I'm intelligent, over-dramatic, struggling with inner demons and fond of Judy Garland. Oy. And, to boot, drooling over a gorgeous hunk of man in my drama class.

Inspired by this video:

Don't Follow

I want to let you in close to me

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Fuck.

Her mom got the phone bill, found out about our midnight calls, and now I can't talk to her until tomorrow, unless she happens to be online. Grr.

I am tired of hiding things I'm not ashamed of. I love her, I want her and I miss her and there is nothing wrong with that.

I want to get out. Out of this body, out of my school, out of this town.

I want to go far away, where I never have to see all the things that crush my hope and spirit.

I want to go somewhere where I can sleep, and live, and be without having to set up a defensive line.

I want the people I love to stop hurting. I want to be strong enough to protect them.

So, school is out in 15 school days, and 22 days total. This is fabulous, of course, but I'm finding I lack the motivation to keep up my work. Which is bad. For example, I am writing this journal entry instead of doing my homework. And it's almost 11:00.

Written from four pages of long and scribbly writing from last Thursday night.

Fallout

Anxious, hot coffee shudders and twitchy eyes, mutters and whispers
Overflowing, running maniacally, shivering
Shaking yourself enough so you don't feel the pain
You can't sit still, if you do you'd have to listen
To the sound and fury rattling in the caverns of your head

On Monday I came out at school. It went like this:

So, I broke up with my girlfriend. It was my fault, and my doing. This is what happened:

Written while thinking of a little transgirl I heard about. May she and all like her be well.

Mermaid

Don't cry, my mermaid
Don't sigh, my mermaid
Let me follow you into the sea
It's going to be alright
You can put your trust in me
I will hold you through the night

Don't scream, my mermaid
Just dream, my mermaid
Someday it can all come true

So, it's 2:03 AM in California right now. I can't sleep at all, and I still haven't finished my homework because I was goofing off and sobbing on the phone with my friend. Oy.

School today is going to suck. I have first period PE, and I think we're running the mile. Joy. I was sore and tired when I woke up, and this is not going to help.