sliiiip SNAP tangent

I'm pale. Not tan, but not translucent, and that's okay.

I don't wear make-up unless I'm going onstage.

I don't wear earrings unless I have an interview, an audition, or the strangest urge to re-punch a tiny hole in my right earlobe (every time, damn it).

On a related note, I learned about the word gynotikolobomassophile today. It's the technical term for "one who nibbles on women's earlobes." Tangent: I wonder if you're one.

Tangent: I had the most realistic dream this morning--the quality was filmic, the story was so brilliantly spun, I wonder: did all this come from my subconcious, or did my subconcious expand like a bubble in my sleep and accidentally touch upon the edge of someone else's?--it was so many stories interwoven into a wonderful piece about outcasts, and I remember many details, but right in the middle of it all, there I was--and the whole time else, my point of view was that of the camera, not me--and I was flirting with, and then in the middle of the best hug from, my current favorite actor, and I could smell him, he smelled like my soap, and he was half-whispering in his lovely voice in my ear something that I suspected would have been a precursor to something more, but it was so vivid, like how his voice might've sounded muffled against the fabric of my shirt on my right shoulder, only I was taller, somehow, and then SNAP--well, a very soft-edged snap, really--it was back to the movie. So, basically, I need to invent something that can record my dreams, because that shit--could've expanded and expounded on that shit. That shit was gold.

Tangent: "Forever After Days" by The National is the perfect song for R.P. McMurphy. The deeper part of it, the part that moves him to protect the Chief, to protect Billy. Because there is control, but beneath that is stuff that really moves him to be good. And to lead. So I imagine this song is perfect for telling his story at the institution--he eventually (wants to) see himself as a hero, but he never really gets to fly. I dunno; it was the song I picked on my iPod on the way back from second dress tonight because the fog was hanging just around streetlight level and that song is just perfect for that image, for this weather (maybe if it was little warmer. Okay, May evening warmer).

Tangent: My eyes hurt. The shadows under my eyes have remained about the same shade of indigo for a while. But my eyes hurt.

Swooping-back-around tangent: Point is, Nana, everyone is beautiful. I don't need to be tan with blindingly-white teeth and pore-less skin to be beautiful. I am beautiful.

I am beautiful, goddammit.

Tangent: Found/fell in love with Buddy Wakefield's poetry today. "We Were Emergencies" in particular.

I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hate myself.

What does that mean? Oh.

With every thrust, I wanted to growl/yell "Validation!" "Validation! Validation! Validation!" Because it is only in my newfound (newfound in the past 1+ years) knowledge that my body is not only fuckable, but desirable enough to shake a stick at VALIDATION.

I am beautiful, goddammit.