Ugh...

I'm either hungover. Or bloody sick.

And since I only had two cocktails after work last night, I'm thinking it's probably the second one. Great. Just what I need right now. Sickness.

OTOH, though, that gives me the perfect excuse to lie in bed all day and not do homework. You know, except that if I don't, I'll be screwed. I need to read a few chapters for Intro the LGBTQ class, and write a paper. I also need to read a few chapters of Foucault (*cringe* - have you ever read this guy?!) for Queer Theory. 6 chapters for history, 300+ pages for Social Justice, and study for an exam in Human Sexuality.

Oh yeah, my life is teh funnest.

Hmm...maybe I'll reply to the 100+ LJ comments I've got stored up from all of you loverly people. Maybe.

Can't concentrate on anything, so I bring you:

Drabbles. Original work drabbles, not fannish ones. But maybe you'll read them anyway. Oh well, if you don't. Just bored, feeling like pounding out a few verses and couldn't quite focus long enough to write anything coherant. Hence, drabbles. Untitled, unrated, unknown WTF they are. But here they be:

1) Thick blue drapes cover the window, tinting the morning sunlight with shades of shadow, creating a moratorium gloom throughout the room. Midnight coverlets drawn across our bodies as we cling together, not for warmth or safety, but for comfort. Silk skin and liquid touch, our arms are locked fiercely to each other just as our lives are locked away from the space outside this room. His heartbeat reverberates through his touch, his breath, his kiss. His flesh is my flesh, his touch is my touch. This dream is mine…

And then I awake, cold and alone in a darkened room.


2) The sounds of sleeplessness thunder through the echoing blackness. The rustling of bedclothes, the heavy breaths of nightmare conquests, the soft wimpering as the painful day slides away into the too-short night. The glowing eyes of the digital clock are masked with thick black tape. The windows are covered with dark linen, nailed into the wooden frames to keep the darkness in as well as to keep the light out. Only darkness lives in this room, only darkness thrives. There is no calm, as the haunting faces and images of the day’s horrors flicker through my memory. Sleep won’t come.

If I become a flittering ninny,

It's because I'm reading The History of Sexuality by Michel Foucault. I'm on page 8, and I have to read to page 130 by tomorrow evening. I've been reading for over an hour. This is seriously difficult stuff, theory aside. I feel like a short-bus rider trying to get through it. If you're unfamiliar with Foucault or queer/sexuality theory at all, I offer you a quote that I had to reread 12 times before I could piece together it's meaning:

"The affirmation of a sexuality that has never been more rigorously subjugated than during the age of the hypocritical, bustling, and responsible bourgeoisie is coupled with the gradiliquence of a discourse purporting to reveal the truth about sex, modify its economy within reality, subvert the law that governs it, and change its future."

Can someone IM me some Red Bull? I have a feeling it's going to be a long night.