“Over the past two decades, Virginia legislators have repeatedly failed to pass legislation that would tighten regulations on the state’s abortion clinics. But this week, legislators appended a last-minute amendment to a Senate bill that would treat first-trimester abortion providers as “hospitals,” subjecting them to a host of additional regulations that could put the majority of the state’s abortion providers out of business.”
HEART, we will forget him! You and I, to-night!You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light. When you have done, pray tell me, 5 That I my thoughts may dim;Haste! lest while you’re lagging, I may remember him!
As many of you probably already know I spent numerous weekends sleeping on a cold cell floor (or at a cold, hard desk) with little more than some scrubs and a hair tie on, munching on sweat meat and gulping yeast infection juice (the smell alone is nauseating), beautifying downtown newport news (only for a a week at a time, apparently living in the ghetto allows you to have total disregard for the state of of our glorious planet), exciting many males and crackheads who taunted the female “yellows” picking up their empty steel reserve bottles, and contemplating how a beautiful and brilliant women such as myself got mixed in with a bunch of whiny, abrasive bitches and butch, testerone-induced FEMALE sergeants on sunny weekends and cold, poetic days. I will tell you. My nickname is slurricane. This mimics (or mocks) the state my life was in prior to my oct 13th incident I have renamed dead duck day part deux ( I already have a set of mug shots at home celebrating dead duck day part one). No I did not learn my lesson the first time, and no I have still not fully grasped the moral this time, but I am starting to see lines more clearly. Word to the wise. Unless you have $5,000 to drop on some very heavy court fines and lawyer fees (unless you have PETE DECKER, good luck bitches), alcohol classes you “don’t need,” an embarassing interlock system that everyone can point out from their passenger side window, and the sky-high insurance a helluva fuckin night out just cost you then DONT DRIVE DRUNK. Oh and in case you skipped the entire first part of my very engaging tale of “Whats it like to be an ignored, caged animal”… jail sucks the most. THE VERY MOST.
Example: Yesterday was the coldest, most blistery winter day we have had all season, specifically the sleety,icy, disgusting rain. I was out in it. Maybe picking up YOUR candy wrappers and cigarette butts. Yet, the wonderful seargeants stayed in their warm vans so they would be far away from our bitchin and moanin, and the horrific cold and so they could easily scope out the next spot we were to clean…
So take this warning seriously. They do not care if you catch an pneumonia. It is just an excuse for them to lock you up when you say you are too sick to go outside next weekend. Trust me. It happened to a pregnant girl.
The vilest deeds, like poison weeds, Bloom well in prison air; It is only what is good in Man That wastes and withers there; Pale Anguish keeps the heavy gate, And the Warder is Despair.
Take heed my future inmates. Yellow may not be YOUR best color.
This track has really grown on me, as I quite like lead singer Tanya Tucker’s vocals on it. Return to Mono is a San Francisco based band that has just released their full length, “Framebreaker” from which we have the title track for your listening enjoyment. They have an intresting mix of electronic elements, modern rock sounds, and Tanya’s rich voice.
the end of an era (i wrote this four years ago when i got my first DUI)
I miss Slurricane. I miss CNU. I miss: the gritty, dirty parties. The ones where after two 40’s of Hurricane to the face, I would retire to the bathroom to split a blunt with some dredded guy I just met while some girl gums coke, just to return to the party lightheaded and ansy fantasizing about getting fingered by coke girl. I miss popping 8 pills of CCC with my friends just so the walk to Discovery won’t be so god damn boring and I can finally confirm that the world is a little tilted to the left. I miss running through the forest, tripping on mushrooms watching my hands disappear into the trees. I miss waking up at 2 p.m. w/ the taste of nicotine and rum in my mouth, wasting the next few mindless hours just to do it again. I miss that my “Live Sober” bracelet has replaced my favorite hemp necklace. I miss Carlos Rossi beach days and taking extra long walks on the shells of the naval base just to split one joint. I miss hotboxing down the freeway, sneaking shots in the back to go to a semi-lame party only because there was free alcohol for us underagers. I miss getting high and REALLY appreciating Pink Floyd. I miss bed-hopping, where every morning was a promise of a new regret. I miss making 8 pots of coffee every morning just to recover from that”pre-cinco de mayo post-St. Patty’s day fuck it its just April 4th thats why we’re wasted” night. I miss sleeping on the beach with an empty bottle of tequila next to me. I miss noontime power hours. I miss having only pictures and klepto souveneirs to remind me. I miss believing reckless was a compliment. I miss tempting death in the tunnel every night w/ a cup of beer in my ashtray and gravity bong senses. I miss being 18 on a dry campus and relying on shoulder-tapping to get me where I need to be.
But most of all. I miss my innocence. My integrity; my naivete. And my love for life. I miss all the simple things I took for granted.
I miss getting fucked up, but more than that…
I miss (and resent) the days before getting fucked up meant everything: My friendships, meaningless caffeinated conversations, sleeping til noon like it was normal (minus the severe hangover), reading for pleasure, my metabolism, Nightmare on Elm st., dating,Pepper, my mom making panacakes every morning, free food, Freshman year, Donkey Kong and super nintendo, Brand New, cramp-free periods, P.E., walking the block all day, guilt-free beach days, working cuz I wanted to not because I need the money, 3 hour phone calls to Justin, the simplicity of high school writing assignments and all its pointless drama, “saved by the bell” sized cell phones, my original GiGi, Sugarcult, models who ate, the eighties and all that encompasses, making home movies to Blondie and parodying Jerry Springer when it was still cool, No Doubt, Becky & Michaelangelo,believing I could be the next Spice Girl one day, believing I could be President one day, thinking being hard meant going to concerts at the Norva, Playing house with Suki and not actually living it, only knowing what a jail cell looked like from “OZ,” the worst thing a guy could do to you was call you flat-chested, my Sublime sticker and hemp necklace, walking the halls with Kristen checking out the hot juniors we would never talk to (and stalking them at volleyball games), “normal” TV, Seinfeld, the early Simpsons, Napster, collecting worms and picking pretty flowers, taking pictures because I wanted to not to help me remember, listening to Dashboard before it was “gay,” always wearing blue,the biggest catastrophe was that “guy” ignoring me not how much this lawyers gonna cost me now, 3 C’s and a shroom, scraping together enough change to buy a slurpee and some gum not Marlboros and a 40, I miss face to face communication (you know, before Myspace), and never ceizing the day anymore simply b/c I am too busy “growing up”. Most of all I miss Chris. I really fucking miss Chris.
This second was the moment she let go of the knife, the recognition that she could draw apparitions in the sky with her mind. Truthfully, what is time? She took a drag and set sail on what would surely turn out to be the first day of the rest of her life. She swallowed spontaneous, reckless abandon baked into the worst excuse for a pie. She took a deep breath and sighed, “This has got to be the moment I die.”
Stoically staring, watching skeletons expedite their way out of her closet and comets crash on her ceiling, she stirred not all as the calendar changed scenes. Devastating when you realize not even angst is free. Devastating when you realize not even cosmic intervention couldn’t move thee.
Suddenly, she moved.
And the streets parted. Blessed are the half-hearted, they’re souls so retarded that even spontaneous shifting of the earth couldn’t get them started.
She rolled over and went to sleep. Suicide is too weak. A lethargic existence is not for the meek.
It happened then that it was the first day of the worst of her life. She reached for the knife…
Delayed sleep-phase syndrome (DSPS) is a circadian rhythm sleep disorder, a chronic disorder of the timing of sleep, peak period of alertness, the core body temperature rhythm, hormonal and other daily rhythms, compared to the normal population and relative to societal requirements. People with…