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fucking funerals. fucking religious right. [10 Jul 2002|12:01am]
[ mood | infuriated ]

it's been a long time, i'm quite aware. but my life has been going all to hell and i needed to take a break, so i got into my car and drove. i just drove. next thing i knew i was 500 miles north of atlanta, in washington, dc. for the fourth of july. i just bolted; that's how panicked i've been, i fucking don't want to be around anyone. i hate everyone. i got up there and found a shitty hostel, where i camped out. only a day after i escaped the real world, i got an email from my father telling me that my grandmother, the only grandparent with whom i have any connection, was dying. i returned to my hostel to sit on my bed and contemplate in depression. i had taken a top bunk in the corner. as i sat there, a few guys in their twenties came in and left their shit on their beds. all of them but one left. he came up to me and leaned on the bed, smiling charmingly, and he proceeded to make some remarks about how the thought of me naked gave him chills. i slapped him straight across the face; then, while he recovered from the shock, i jumped off my bed and kicked him in the balls. i got the fuck out of there, but when i returned, all of my bags were in the office waiting for me. apparently that little horny asshole had reported me and had me kicked out. FUCKING FUCKING FUCKING FUCKING ASSHOLE. i left, went to a cafe, where i sat and drank 7-8 cups of black coffee. when it got late and the cafe closed, the guy who worked there came up to me and told me that i had to leave. i then realized that i was stuck in dc with no place to sleep; i panicked, had a nervous breakdown, and ended up lying on the floor nearly screaming. it was a lapse in my manic tendencies, i guess. anyway, he took me back to his place. we had sex, of course, he was hot, and i guess that my anger pumped me with extreme energy. he told me some bullshit about how i was the best lay he'd had in his entire life, how he wanted me to move in with him; obviously i bolted. i felt better, having released some sexual tension. but then i was in ultra-sex mood, which only made my life worse. i ended up compulsively masturbating in the shower of another nasty motel for the next day. i left on the fourth, and stopped by a marijuana legalization protest on the way out. multiple guys smoked me up, and i left totally stoned and fucked up. i felt great. i decided to find myself some alcohol, but realized i was broke. some guy gave me some xanax and i took that, which chilled me out.

i started back down the coast with the intention of making another stop in charleston; i needed the ocean. but along the way, i called to check my phone messages and found out that mimi had died. so i trucked over to mississippi, pumped up on aderol and xanax and dexedrine. i arrived there without having slept in 4 full days; i was a disgusting mess. obviously my mother flipped the fuck out. i was so fucking out of it that i passed out. when i woke up, i found that my mother had bathed and clothed me. we went to the funeral, which is the basic topic of this entry... it just took me a while to get there. it was the biggest fucking bullshit i've ever heard. the preacher started with "we are here for three reasons: to celebrate the glory of god and his creations, to affirm our belief in jesus christ, and to look upon the life of mimi as one with god." WHAT THE FUCK. my mother, who was sitting next to me, knew i was about to go nuts. so she took the program, slapped me across my hands in warning, and turned back to the sermon. i held myself in. but then they played a fucking TAPE RECORDING of some BULLSHIT HYMN. mimi didn't even believe in god. she would have fucking SOBBED had she seen her own funeral. and everyone being all sentimental and FUCKING FUCKING BULLSHIT. she wouldn't have wanted that. the asshole southern preacher lauched back into shit about how "thank goodness mimi was a believer, because we now know that she's with god." and i wanted to scream, "so if she wasn't a believer-- which she most certainly WASN'T, by the way-- she'd be rotting in hell?? are you just saying that she was religious so that you wouldn't have to deal with that negative element of your fundamentally FUCKED UP religion? you know damn well she hated churches, and she would have hated you... so do you think she's rotting in hell?!?!" instead of screaming all of that, out of respect for my father (mimi was his mother), i just stood up quietly and left the funeral. i tried to make it as polite as i could, but obviously, it was far from polite. i got into my car and drove to my grandfather's house, where i waited for my father and grandfather to return from the funeral. we spent some time together talking about her, and they both shared in my frustration with the funeral. although they were both pissed at me for walking out. whatever. it ended well, i guess. i drove back to atlanta today. here i am. and here i go.

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finally. after years of longing and sexual anguish... [08 Jun 2002|04:11pm]
[ mood | crazy ]

so fucking a, i finally found cafe flesh 2. i mean, when i was in nyc, we called every fucking porn store in the city... it was always "that's old, out of print, impossible to find, must be special ordered..." total bullshit like that. even my little behind-the-vintage-store porn store, now satanically dominated by man slut, didn't have it... and they're all about fucked up, random, out of print porn. the fact that they own cafe flesh 1 was exciting enough. but cisha and i decided that the city hadn't been combed; there was still hope, we had faith in the porn; although if we couldn't find it in nyc, how would we find it in georgia? but we did! i renewed my membership at the southern nights on cheshire bridge and we got it. and it was hot. it was 2 1/2 hours, thus significantly loger than the 90-minute cafe flesh 1. it was much more hardcore (although still not hardcore porn... just in comparison to the first one). it involves a talking brain floating in liquid, it involves neon hair; there was a led zeppelin nightmare scene where the sex occurs under a sky of spinning neon flowers, and there's an alien in a hat videotaping and taking notes. there's a bullfighting scene where the male bull has dildos on his head instead of horns. one of the last sex scenes (of which there are many, i assure you) involved a marriage ("you may now penetrate the bride"), and as the newlyweds go at it, there are twins in electric chairs convulsing and having spasms (which increase in intensity as the sex increases in intensity). oh, and so much more... the classic blond good-girl virgin (with breasts larger than watermelons) talking about how she feels "dirtier than a dustbuster." this lovely porn includes regular sex, anal sex, oral sex, rimming, and then multiple combinations of those. there are serious close-ups. all in all, it was much different from the first. but although the sex scenes are generally neon and bright (a discoteque feel), the exterior setting is still dark and lynchian. so rent it. if you're a fellow atlantan, go to southern nights. but rent cafe flesh 1 first, because it explains the whole story, and many of the characters in cafe flesh 2 are carried over from the first. and you'll appreciate the second much more after seeing the first.

anyway, on another sexual note, because sex makes the world go round, i was out with karl at our friend lucy's house last night. there were a few people there; we all got drunk, took drugs and went to sleep. i'm rather in love with lucy, as is karl; we obsess over her constantly, although it's in a joking tone. i mean, she's fucking hot as shit. long, wavy black hair, dark skin, pale green eyes. she has a lush, overly-feminized body; touching her skin gives me chills, and i'm usually pretty fucking confident around people. we showered together a few months ago, and explored each other, and it was a long, hot shower... but it wasn't a huge deal. i'd fuck her in a second if i could, but karl rants about how while she's objectively the most beautiful girl he's ever seen, he doesn't want to actually fuck her. he claims that she's rather a novelty for him; she's too feminine or something. whatever. he's wrong. but last night, i walked down the hall to hear them fucking in her room. first thing i thought was WHAT? because i never knew that karl would lie to me. i mean, did he think i'd be pissed off? i don't get jealous like that! i can fuck whoever i want. jealousy is the bane of my existence. well, he hasn't mentioned it yet, and if he wants to lie about it, i'll let him. if he keeps lying, however, i'm going to pounce on him and strangle him. just enough to bruise his neck slightly and get my point across. if he'd just tell me the truth, i'd be genuinely happy for him, and i'd ask all the details so that i could envision her myself. it'd make my day, if he got to fuck someone that hot. but don't fucking lie to me. i don't take dishonesty well.

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[04 Jun 2002|05:05pm]
[ mood | aggravated ]

so i'm fucking about to punch the wall in. i had various complications today, none of which i'm overly happy about. i went to my special little porn store (it's the best-- it's hidden behind a vintage clothing store; so i go through that store, go into the "bathroom"-- which is really just a hallway to the porn store-- and there i am! i know the workers and they give me free shit all the time in record for videotaping me; works for me, i love to be on video). anyway, i went in with my fishnets and leather shorts for my weekly videotaping, because i need new bondage equipment. so jackson, the guy who SHOULD be working that shift, wasn't there. rather, it was a nasty 40-year-old man with a prominent nametag: MANAGER: BEN HUTT. i think it should be ASSHOLE: MAN SLUT if you ask me. so he grabbed my arm, which i immediately wrenched away. he then threw a videotape at my fucking head, that psychotic porn-addicted sick bastard. the label said "shannon: 4/23/02." so i'd been caught. "you slut," he yelled at me, "i've fired all of my employees now because of your conspiracy with them. get the fuck out of my store and never come back. if you do, i'll call the police." i flicked him off, violently kicked over a stack of magazines, and got the fuck out of there. needless to say, i was pretty pissed off and guilty. i don't even know how to contact jackson or the others; i was so used to just going in there whenever i wanted to chill. that bastard. he's just jealous; whenever he wants sex he probably has to blow up a plastic doll. he's not human. fucking man slut. i hate man slut. GOD!!! and how did he get the goddamn tape? does he have the others? i wonder. i kind of want them for myself.

other shit happened, but i don't have the time to rant about it all anyway. i have work in 45 minutes and i have to get in my daily showering time before i go; i work until 2am tonight. fuck.

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[03 Jun 2002|07:43pm]
hello world!!! ah, the beginning of a new mode of expression... a new way to bare myself the the world, unashamed. i've always been a bit of an exhibitionist. i mean, what the hell-- if you don't like me, then go fuck yourself! because i'm not about to bullshit about who i am. i love to shock people, to cause people to make wry faces and wring their hands while saying "oh no, poor, misguided girl" or plain "what a freak." they're the freaks. it's fun to watch. for introverts, life is about watching other people do their own business. and hell, that's a good thing to do at times. but when i watch people, i want to learn how they react to things. reactions say far more about people, it seems to me. so this is my intro-- my life philosophy, if you will. i am against all inhibition, whether sexual, verbal or conceptual. i love art, especially the social sculpture movement and performance/ installation art. like joseph beuys. it's invigorating, and it takes more guts and character than does most visual art. i mean, they get out there! they make statements with their own bodies and their own physical activity. they're radicals, unafraid of the world's oppression! i also like nude photography. although i'm bisexual, female nude photographs are by far the most moving to me. i'm in love with angelina jolie (go figure!); i can't get over how sexy it is that she and billy bob thorton wear a vial of each other's blood around their necks. i'll bet that their sex is fucking unbelievable; not boring, run-of-the-mill sex. i mean, i want the handcuffs, the whips, the hardcore leather and latex. i'd wear leather all day if i could... and if i didn't live in georgia, where the summer sun's rays are like metal slicing across your skin. favorite movie: anything by david lynch. that man is SEX. and another great film (happens to be characterized as pornogrophy): cafe flesh. i'm telling you man-- it's a david lynch porn (well not really; but it definitely looks like it was made by lynch). it's FUCKED UP. go find it! watch it! i'm 19 but i live on my own in an apartment with my best friends cisha and karl. i'm already out of college; due to some bullshit about being a child genius, i skipped 2 grades and went to college (columbia university) for 3 years before graduating. i work at an eclectic, radical coffee shop thats main function is a meeting place for radical political and social groups. a few days ago they had the american athiests meeting; people came in from all over the country. i met a few cool guys; i told them to fuck staying in a hotel, come stay with me. a lot of sex that night. we went at it for hours; cisha and karl were staying with their respective significant others. i mean, fuck! we did every room! sitting on tables, upside down on couches, the works. ended up covering karl's room with chocolate syrup (it just got a little out of hand). he was cool about it; he helped me clean up the next day while i told him about the sexual exploits. here's the deal with our relationship: we're attracted to one another sexually, and we love each other dearly as friends, but any romance fucks everything up. i dated him back in high school for a month; after that we both decided that we had to break up or we'd kill each other. he's over-possessive and jealous as a boyfriend, he doesn't want as hardcore sex as i do. so now we're just best friends. i mean, since we're so close, sometimes we'll just have sex to practice. using each other, we figure out new ways to go about sex so that we blow our other sexual partners away. i mean, we fuck people up. so karl and i obsess about sex all of the time. cisha and i obsess about being neurotic all the time. i have panic attacks here and there; she's got major sexual issues that cause her to have attacks of neuroticism every time she gets home from having sex. eh, life happens, we're more interesting than most! gotta go- farewell, eagerly waiting world!
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