There's Always Someone Else For You To Blame

Hey there, all...

Well, after losing my voice and nearly choking on my own snot, I'm finally home from a rousing night of giving people cigarettes. I'm surprised I survived. ;)

The house isn't clean, and we'll be expecting company later this evening. I suspect Joey left it all for me to do, or maybe he just didn't feel like doing it...which would be fine if it didn't feel like my head was a melon ready to split wide open.

Despite everything, I'm pretty content right now. I wish I had a bit more willpower to do everythign it is I would like to do. I would *like* to clean the house, hang up my laundry, take a shower and write a bit before I passed out, but something tells me I'll be down well before then.

Hmm...

I was invited to be the Changeling Storyteller for the local Camarilla group; I have a really cool idea for a three-part story that I think would work well (incidentally, it's a combination of Stephen King's Rose Red and The Stand...obsessive, huh?), but in order to do *anything*, apparently, I'm going to need to be a member of the Camarilla. I'm sorry, but shelling out $20 a year to be told what I can or can not play, become embroiled in petty, pointless politics and ultimately get shafted doesn't sound like my idea of a good time. I really would just like to tell a good story.

Speaking of which, the internet RPG is having a little trouble getting off the ground. Only half of the group is responding to preliminary e-mails; the other half...I don't know what's up with them. I'll have to try and milk them out of the shadows later. I'm trying pretty hard *not* to get too ahead of myself here; most of them are new to gaming in general, let alone all the complexities of White Wolf storyline. ;)

Anyway, now for cleaning, right?

Wish me luck.

Poem: Dysfunctional

I was feeling...connected the other night. This is what came out of it.

Dysfunctional

She is a very special girl.
Her mother is hot and disapproving
and her father travels only in darkness
stealing the souls of little boys
for looking at him too long.
Her brother is tall and magestic
stretching out his arms high
for Mother and Father
and Cousins and Uncles
but never for her.
She is a very special girl.
Her sister is a worldly lass;
she's been to all of the brothels down by the port.
She babbles from town to town
and everywhere she goes
people scrape off little bits
but that's OK
because she does, too.
She is a courageous girl.
She can look at her mother
in all of her distant and impossible heat
and she can smile while
kicking the feet of her brother.
She can laugh at her father's mysterious face,
buried in her brother's outstretched arms
and amidst the cries of distant relatives
she can scream
"Yes, I am the one who scrapes off the bits of Sister's flesh!
I use it for life, and I always stay away from Pikuwa!
I can eat my brother's nuts
and he won't care because
they always grow back!
I can dance with you all tonight,
and tomorrow I can kill my brother
and use his skin to hide from you!
I am Man!
I thank you!"
She is a special girl.
She can scrape.
She can kick.
She can eat
and drink
and take
and thank
because she's learned her lesson.
You can use your family
but you must always
respect them.


-DAC