Aye Carumba, stick a fork in me. I'm done.

In a not-suprising turn of events, nature has given me her death glare, resulting in my lungs exploding, my head caving in, and my nose turning into a constant drip. I'm coughing up things that no one should ever cough up. In other words, in the year that I've lived in Chicago, I've apparently become deadly allergic to everything that floats, sways, or swings in the breeze. And looking out the window and seeing the cottonwood crap flying through the air just makes my body go into convulsions.

Haven't been able to sleep more than 15 minutes at a time in about a week, either as a result of my allergies or the bad bad dreams I'm having. Like, horrible horrible dreams where I lose a limb or every person I have ever met dies painfully and horribly. Don't even ask about the one involving a giant lobster. *cringe* It appears that my theory about slowing going mad is aboslutely correct.

I found out this weekend that two more friends have tested positive in the last week. At this point, I'm scared out of my mind (not so much that I have it, but that you never know who else might have it). So I'm going on an abstinence strike. As it is, I'm at a little over 4 months for full-on man sex, but now I'm abstaining from anything involving another person that isn't confined to hands-above-the-waist, clothes on, action. I've gone out every night the past four nights (it was International Male Leather here in Chicago this weekend, which draws about 20,000 leathermen/bears/followers from around the world to Chicago for 4 crazy days), and each night more than one guy has tried to pick me up. Tried to. As in, I turned them down. I'm still going to go out when I want to, but I'm definetely cutting down on the drinking because I tend to get naughty after too many cocktails. And I don't want that to lead to ...you know, that.

I graduate in 13 days. Does anyone have some valluim I could borrow? Because my brain = death right now.

Things to do for today before tomorrow: write two 5 page papers that were due 2 weeks ago (thank god for forgiving teachers); re-read The Color Purple; write another short story and send it off for workshop; re-write my previous short story; come up with three more poems (sidebar: he hates my poetry. he says I'm a)too vague, b)trying too hard, c)trying to be too creative[wtf?], and d)"generally a bad poetry writer". to each of these, I say: fuck off); research diversity in LGBT Mediterranean people (help!?); write a response/reflection paper; clean up my apartment so that next weekend when I cleanse it for family approval, it won't take forever (is Chicago ready for the Kimbels to come to town? I'm thinking no: just imagine National Lampoon's Family Vacation via Chicago via Roseanne. Scarey); try not to have a stroke.

So, sorry if I'm not around so much (commenting, posting, and such). I just DONT have any time right now.

Portfolio Poem #1: Not Ready

Not Ready
Point of entry:
            Gaping, bare, slick.

Course:
            Veins, heart, lungs, liver,
                        Cells.
 
Coma, flu, ambulance, tears,failed cocktail.
Closed casket, shamefulwhispers.
            Did you know?
            So young.
            So stupid.
            So easy these days.
 
Who knew?
            It’s always the one you never suspected.
            Always happens when you feel the safest.
 
Lesions, thrush, blood,shit.
            Embarrassed sobs alone in the ICU.
            Not ready, not ready, not ready.
            Too young,
                        Too stupid.
 
So pale.
Nothing’s left
            Skin and bones.
Fine a year ago,
And now there’s nothing.
            Not long left.
            No one will visit anymore.
                        Cries all the time.
 

Not ready.

Villanelle: Future Hearts

Fire and lightening scorches midnight skies.
The souls of strangers look for hidden stars.
Yet with tears of dust we keep up the lies.

Pregnant with pain, deaf ears hear muffled cries.
Bound with chains, our fears are cage bars.
Fire and lightening scorches midnight skies.

The life inside us is worth all our tries,
But no life can forget the deaths of ours.
Yet with tears of dust we keep up the lies.

New morning breaks give light to all that dies,
Bodies decaying in the trunks of cars,
Fire and lightening scorches midnight skies.

Graves of mud and fruit infected with flies,
Nothing safe, nothing known, we’re all liars.
Yet with tears of dust we keep up the lies.

These are my nightmares I wake from with sighs,
I fear our future, because in our hearts,
Fire and lightening scorches midnight skies.
The souls of strangers look for hidden stars.

Backlogged Creative Writing: Birthday Song

Birthday Song
Another year, another day,
Sunrise, sunset, these are times
To be left behind.

We grow old before we are young,
Like a seedling left to wilt,
Rotten from the start.

Like waves receding, memories
Fade, dim, and wash away to
Unknown points of hope.

Each passing minute reminds us
Of each moment before it;
Like crystals smashing.

We celebrate the passage of
Time with smiles and laughter, though
We dread tomorrow.

So we live in yesterday while
Knowing it will cry tears of
Tomorrow’s daybreak.

Happy birthday to us all.

Final Poem: Charlie's at 3am

I'll cut this because it's a little long:

( Charlie's at 3am )