Counting down the days (or: Eleven)

Through sun-limned blinds, green leaves shimmer against the blue. The mass of bubbling childhood orbiting me seethes. Soon come, hometime.

Have Pride, dammit!

So this morning, a friend of mine posted this article, and when I read the article, I thought it was so absurd I had to read the deck. Which was so absurd I had to read the lede. Which was so absurd... you get the picture. 

http://www.xtra.ca/public/Toronto/Rainbows_banned_at_Mississauga_Catholic_school-10262.aspx

It made me angry, and I got angrier as the article continued. What gives them the right, really?

Anyway, this is for those students.

Close doors, throw stones. A porch is a pulpit,stigmata proclaim my pride. I won't be silenced; my name is written. The book speaks for itself.

Les souris dansent (or: When the cat is away...)

This week, I wanted to try something with a more uplifting feeling. I started with some bubbly, cute ideas (which I still may keep for later), but as it happened, partway through my idea-generating process, I put on headphones and iTunes to block out outside distractions, and a couple of my favourite songs songs came on. As I tried to resist the urge to bop in my chair rather than write a story, I realized that some of my favourite things are music and dancing. But sometimes I find it hard to dance "genuinely" with people around, unless I'm in a club full of others e who are, similarly, dancing their hearts out -- which doesn't come together as often as I'd like.

When it does though, I'm in heaven, and if that isn't uplifting, well, I dunno.

On rare occasions, you dine out. I blast 90bpm in the living room. No mirrors, no eyes. Euphoria. When no one's watching, I am Sasha Fierce.