A Little Night Music
Aug. 24th, 2005 10:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mlerulesThis evening's highlight: coyotes howling...LOTS of coyotes howling. I really really lurv it up in the hills.
Life's seemed too crazy and I've been too lazy...but I'm reminded once again that I NEED to get out of town before I go outta my head. Regularly. Not sure what I'm fleeing. It used to be that I was going TO/TOWARDS something: the Bay Area. Home. Now, I'm not sure where home is. It concerns me. At the same time, it's possible I'm starting to feel that home is where I am. Or perhaps I'm too busy chasing dreams and/or my tail and/or dragons to make a home. I nest. I flit. I fit. Where I am is my home, even though I'm given to roam.
I have an impulse, not a compulsion. It's one I won't heed. Need to consult a thesaurus. Maybe there's a better slant on what I want to do than the traditional and negatively connotational. I want an OED - the simple 2 volume.
Found myself wandering Best Buy this afternoon. Indulged in cheap DVDs of several films in my lifetime heavy rotation playlist: Better Off Dead, So I Think I Married An Axe Murderer, and another combo I'm too embarassed to mention. Ended up lounging on a comfie leather couch watching big-screen TV.
Desiring more intellectual stimulation. More music, too.
Damn, now I'm starting to doubt myself. This must stop. I've got to be willing to try, to see what happens, to experiment, to try things on for size.
What does an emotional chastity belt look like? Feel like? (Ew, an image of a real physical one just popped into my mind, along w/a burst of anger at the parents who did the totally irresponsible and stupid thing to do to a kid: bring 'em into the Museum of Torture - here's someone's trip tix including a brochure of't: http://www.corkscrew-balloon.com/misc/torture.html (No, not the people on the web-site, the goobers I saw when there myself.) Mebbe it's educational if'n they're a bit older, but your 9-year old daughter was old enough to be unnerved w/out (most likely - and certainly apparently) being able to understand the social and political and historical background of this stuff.) I want the Museum of Death to come back. Never made it to H-wood, but went when it was in San Diego (about a decade ago) before it got priced out.
Today I'm a far happier camper. Sigh of relief. Another of pleasure/contentment.
Life's seemed too crazy and I've been too lazy...but I'm reminded once again that I NEED to get out of town before I go outta my head. Regularly. Not sure what I'm fleeing. It used to be that I was going TO/TOWARDS something: the Bay Area. Home. Now, I'm not sure where home is. It concerns me. At the same time, it's possible I'm starting to feel that home is where I am. Or perhaps I'm too busy chasing dreams and/or my tail and/or dragons to make a home. I nest. I flit. I fit. Where I am is my home, even though I'm given to roam.
I have an impulse, not a compulsion. It's one I won't heed. Need to consult a thesaurus. Maybe there's a better slant on what I want to do than the traditional and negatively connotational. I want an OED - the simple 2 volume.
Found myself wandering Best Buy this afternoon. Indulged in cheap DVDs of several films in my lifetime heavy rotation playlist: Better Off Dead, So I Think I Married An Axe Murderer, and another combo I'm too embarassed to mention. Ended up lounging on a comfie leather couch watching big-screen TV.
Desiring more intellectual stimulation. More music, too.
Damn, now I'm starting to doubt myself. This must stop. I've got to be willing to try, to see what happens, to experiment, to try things on for size.
What does an emotional chastity belt look like? Feel like? (Ew, an image of a real physical one just popped into my mind, along w/a burst of anger at the parents who did the totally irresponsible and stupid thing to do to a kid: bring 'em into the Museum of Torture - here's someone's trip tix including a brochure of't: http://www.corkscrew-balloon.com/misc/torture.html (No, not the people on the web-site, the goobers I saw when there myself.) Mebbe it's educational if'n they're a bit older, but your 9-year old daughter was old enough to be unnerved w/out (most likely - and certainly apparently) being able to understand the social and political and historical background of this stuff.) I want the Museum of Death to come back. Never made it to H-wood, but went when it was in San Diego (about a decade ago) before it got priced out.
Today I'm a far happier camper. Sigh of relief. Another of pleasure/contentment.
