Razor

GO JAMES! And yes, knowing you, the quality of the work you described is exactly what I'd expect and love you for. Ahem... "Be the task great or small, do it well or not at all."

Thanks guys. Glad you enjoyed it. And yeah, while in nearly all of my writing there's some inciting event or idea or overtone that I stole from my own life, a lot of it is... erm... let's say creatively adjusted. The Grass Harp? Whatzat? Never heard of it.... ~googles~

Hm, that's possible. Overuse of perfume could be one of the many symptoms of different people with depression... everybody copes in different ways, and it's not too hard to imagine the link there. However, I would say that using a light fragrance would probably make you happier on a daily basis. It's like Kevvers said, there's a serious satisfaction in grooming. If you KNOW you smell good, and people tell you so, then you're gonna feel good about yourself. P.S. Stay the hell away from cucumber melon unless it's a name brand product. For the love of all that is holy, stay the HELL away from it. I have had enough poorly concocted cucumber melon to last me six lifetimes, from both guys and girls. If you're gonna do it, do it big and invest in a name brand shampoo/lotion/soap/perfume/whatever. No, Suave does not count as a name brand. In fact, nothing in Wal-Mart counts as a name brand.

Dem's right, yo. I got two different types of hair control, lol. There's maintenance and there's special occasion. If I were to be naked for whatever reason in front of damn near anybody, that'd count as special occasion, and hair removal would take place on a much larger scale. If nobody's seeing anything, why bother? The only places that get hair removed are places that I want hair removed. And Demetz, you should be patient, lol! Poor boy probably didn't even know that he should shave. It's not like it's a place you stare at all day and think "Hm, you know... I should take a razor to this..." The only really bad thing about shaving any place where skin may under whatever circumstances meet skin is the prickles. After a day, two at most, it starts growing back and it's like having stubble between your legs. Not fun at all. It will definitely be one of the places that gets lasered. Oh when I'm rich.... ~sigh~... I shall have naught but a treasure trail....

Okay, so this guy I fooled around with had a unique ability, or so I think. All I know is that I've never tried it, known that it was possible, or even ever want to attempt it for fear of injury. He could pop his dick. Yes, you heard me correctly. How, you ask? Well, basically, he pulled up his thighs, placed his happy place betwixt them, and then pushed them down. There was an audible pop, the same as when you crack your knuckles or whatever else. I nearly had a heart attack when he did it. He, of course, laughed at me. What I wanna know is if anybody else can (or knows anyone who can) do this. Heh, given that I can pop pretty much every joint on my body (knuckles, neck, elbows, ankles, toes, wrists, knees, back), I kind of wanna try it but that's one ligament I really don't wanna tear, lol. If nothing else, it was damned interesting and made for a bit of good conversation.

Oh my sweet lord you waxed your armpits? I'd scream like... well... nevermind. I could deal with wax on non-sensitive parts, but that would just ouch! Meh, non-hairy people don't seem to understand how much more difficult hair removal is for hairy people. The difference in thickness and texture of existing hair combined with the relatively greater volume makes for a bitch of a time if you're gonna attempt waxing. Forget doing it yourself unless you're a freak from hell who'd make someone with a hardcore BDSM fetish cry. Not only does it HURT eight thousand million times worse (and I know this because I've waxed places with different amounts of hair, middle of the chest versus side, etc.), but the thickest parts of the hair can cause bleeding if you're not careful about how ya rip. You're gonna wanna go to a pro. No, no, no, no, no shaving chest/back/tummy. BAD. Especially any place you can't see, that's just asking for serious trouble. If you have someone who absolutely loves you more than life itself, or has a fetish, then maybe you're lucky enough to have someone to get the spots you can't see, but otherwise it's not a good idea. That's not even mentioning the rash/razor burn/razor bumps that can be inevitable depending on hair/skin type. Now... I was gonna give a good example of an at least semi-hairy guy who is sexy. Here ya go. http://kaniemom.homestead.com/files/__hr_Jake_chest_shot.jpg He is one sexy man, and a shining example of how a guy with body hair can make you wanna jump them just as fast, if not even faster, than a guy without. While I do not pretend to know many hairy guys who are hot like that... I wish I did. ~drool~

Seriously, out of all the annoyances and frustrations, I latched onto one awesome thing about being gay. It makes me even more unique. Check the math, yo. 68% of people have an IQ within the standard deviation from average, so from 85 to 115. 14% are in the deviation from that, fifteen on either side. Roundabouts 2% of the population have an IQ higher than 130, so I'm already unique. How many people have read even half the books I have, and found so much joy in doing so? How many other people have been able to foster an imagination like mine (not to brag or anything, but I think mine's pretty damn cool)? How many people are as empathetic as I am, and actually care about other people? Not a lot, I can tell ya that from experience. The list goes on and on, and being gay just makes me all that more rare and unique, so I embrace it wholeheartedly. While yes, it does cause me some problems and frustrations, I don't have any issues with it and I sorta like standing out sometimes. That's a really superficial reason, I know, but hey... I'm gay, so why not play into the stereotype just to mess with some heads?

Too much is a terrible thing. The right idea, at least in my opinion, is to find something that compliments rather than obliterates. Also, I do not like BO. I find it quite unattractive, and my annoyance as of late has been the usual during summer... the heat and humidity make you smell bad within a couple of hours of being out in it. No matter how clean and shiny I am when I hop out of the shower in the morning, I know that by noon I'll smell mediocre at best, and that by night I run the risk of smelling none-too-fresh. Some guys do not smell good at all. I don't know if this is a biological thing, or just bad choices on their part, but it's a sad, sad fact. Other than cologne or unique scent, I actually LIKE the smell of cigarettes. I don't like the smell of cigarettes on hands or heavy on the breath (like after someone just smoked). However, a light tint of it on clothing or hair mixed in with a dash of cologne, their preferred detergent or soap or shampoo, and just a hint of them... it adds something. Oh, and smokers... dude, wash your hands when you get done smoking. I hate when I don't have enough time before a class to go to the bathroom and wash my hands because I KNOW I'll smell just like an ashtray. For whatever reason, the smell sticks to skin much more than clothing or even hair, and the smell that sticks to the hands is just repulsive. There's nothing quite like a guy that manages to smell clean, scented, and just like himself all at the same time. Or a girl, for that matter; no matter what the stereotypes say, girls have much more of an issue with properly wearing a fragrance. Some of them who pass me in the halls or even on a sidewalk, and especially some that hug me... ~gags~. Trying to fumigate the place using only your perfume?

Kevvers, where did you grow up? We use that here. Not so much any more because of the downswing in the locals and the sad lack of many crawfish/shrimp boils, but when I was little it was "Tony's".

Out of the many perks to being gay, I find that our handbook is really great. It elucidates so many difficult and complex points in life, not to mention tells us exactly what's fashionable YEARS in advance. The chapter on corrupting youth is also golden, as is the great how-to on drag.

Offtopic, today I smelled a terrible BO odor. I accidentally bought deodorant with no anti-perspirant, so I was thinking that it could conceivably be me. About eighteen semi-discrete sniffs later, I realized it wasn't me and it was someone who was walking down the hall. I never thought I'd be so happy to know someone else smelled bad. On topic, I remember how each guy I've ever been close to smelled. The closer I was emotionally attached to them, the more vividly I remember the scent. One particular guy's scent is especially associated with comfort, bedding, sleep, and security. ~shrug~ My personal opinion... SMELL GOOD ALL THE TIME. You never know when someone's sniffing you up for the first time, and I take a lot of pride in being remembered as the guy that smells insanely good (albeit with a touch of cigarette smoke if you catch me at the wrong time). I've actually been seriously considering going shopping for a new scent. I've been using my favorite flavor of Axe for ages, and while it is a nice scent (and yes, I use it sparingly and appropriately), I think I want something a little more complex and... um... yeah I dunno the word for it. Just something a little deeper, more alluring. There was one in Victoria's Secret's lil for men cologne section last time I went to the mall that smelled absolutely fantastic, it just had a bit of a long cooldown time. I'm referring to the time it takes for a scent to mellow enough to tell what it will actually smell like through the day.

I've gone back on a My Chemical Romance kick. The driving hordes of emo children and harsh, ignorant critics shall not keep me from my man. I Don't Love You -MCR Well when you go Don't ever think I'll make you try to stay. And maybe when you get back I'll be off to find another way When after all this time that you still owe You're still the good-for-nothing I don't know So take your gloves and get up Better get up While you can When you go Would you even turn to say, "I don't love you like I did yesterday"? Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading So sick and tired of all the needless beating But baby when they knock you Down and out is where you oughta stay And after all the blood that you still owe Another dollar's just another blow So fix your eyes and get up Better get up While you can When you go, would you even turn to say, "I don't love you like I did yesterday"? Well come on, come on. When you go Would you have the guts to say, "I don't love you Like I loved you Yesterday"?

Wow, Jack, your eyes are beautiful. I don't see many sets of bright blue eyes like that.

I approve. ~nods~ In fact, I'd go so far as to say that if ya opened your mouth and pure idiocy didn't fall out, I'd be tempted to attack. SHARON! I love the hair, you should've done more than just the one streak. Or better yet, even, the whole head!

Yup, I'm in a new dorm for the summer (well, old, but new to me). It's not such a bad lil place... still got boxes stacked to one side of the room, I haven't totally unpacked. Don't see why I should when I just know I'll be moving again in the fall. ~shrug~ I wanna see the drunk face! Redheads and emo boys, oh my... now if someone happened to be a redheaded emo boy... ~twitch~ <--- good twitch

Dyed my hair black again. Anyway, since my webcam always seems to turn my eyes blue unless it's really, really, really close up, there's also a picture of my eye (though it does somewhat fail in showing my eyelashes, at least the tips where they go all light colored). Now you know I have hazel eyes, not blue eyes. The webcam is deceitful and I'm too cheap to buy a nice digicam. Ummm.... yah. Can you tell I'm kinda bored, randomly taking pictures and whatnot? http://i291.photobucket.com/albums/ll303/g...9/sideways2.jpg http://i291.photobucket.com/albums/ll303/g...9429/183410.jpg

Likewise. The solo mode isn't all that amazingly wondrous, but oh sweet Jeebus it's so much fun to play with/against friends.

................................................................................ ...................................................... I'm reading the first chapter... I'll get to the second... okay now to the second.... (I'm posting as I read, lol, I can't help it) I knew you were intelligent and articulate, Kevvers, but I guess I didn't know exactly how creative you are. Very nice descriptions without all of the run-of-the-mill adjectives that are all terribly threadbare (and I could've used bromidic, banal, dull, platitudinal, commonplace, old, overused, overworked... okay, outta synonyms). I enjoyed: -the homicidal ideation involving the tweaked out bitch and his scarf -Aaron being fun to watch/read/whatever -LMFAO at "[the mug] didn't really exist anyway" -It's parallel, meaning that it's well-written. Things match up nicely and fit together without clashing. Some people write and things just get hazy around the edges. This is more like puzzle piece edges. My personal issues: -having thoughts in italics bothers me, but not a big issue -"Cosmo" reminds me of the idiot fairy from Fairly Oddparents -knowing way too damn much at points, and what I mean by this is the thing like the Columbian accent, the Giorgio cologne, etc. -WTF, man, you already ruined it by f**king with Cosmo! Omg Kevvers you lose all the points you had, you're in the negative, DEATH!; Also, he would not be drinking if he had HIV. I'm assuming that, like everyone in the real world, he's started HAART, and recent research definitely suggests that alcohol use correlates with higher viral load and lower T-cell count. The amount of alcohol could be questioned, but considering as how the boy always has a cosmo in his hand, he's gotta be topping more than just one drink a day. -it almost seems like you're writing defensively at points... hard to explain, but like you're preempting certain possible criticisms It's great so far, Kevvers. Wish it were finished, I hate trying to keep up with chapters coming out. Anywho, keep it going... I really, really like it (which, as you know... is sorta rare for me ).

You're completely wrong about the movie. It's also one of my top ten favorite movies of all time, and Angelina Jolie is an EXCELLENT actress. She plays Lisa (the sociopathic Lisa, not Lisa Cody, who is left out of the film), and JESUS I've never seen a more convincing crazy person than the character she plays... with the possible exception of Anthony Hopkins and Jack Nicholson. Winona Ryder is also amazing in the movie, she's perfect for the part. You really should check it out, it's worth it. You totally have to read the book, too, I know I'm plugging here but it really is a great book. It's probably the kind of thing that you'd have to have already thought about to really appreciate, but still.

You know how I have that brain thing where I think about a million things all at once? Well, one of my favorite books is Girl, Interrupted. There's a passage in there that explains it really well, so I'm posting it here. Pay attention to the velocity part. (Yes, I'm keeping the paragraphs exactly as they are in the book, it's part of the style. Looks better single spaced with slight indentions to mark paragraphs.) Velocity vs. Viscosity Insanity comes in two basic varieties: slow and fast. I'm not talking about onset or duration. I mean the quality of the insanity, the day-to-day business of being nuts. There are a lot of names: depression, catatonia, mania, anxiety, agitation. They don't tell you much. The predominant quality of the slow form is viscosity. Experience is thick. Perceptions are thickened and dulled. Time is slow, dripping slowly through the clogged filter of thickened perception. The body temperature is low. The pulse is sluggish. The immune system is half-asleep. The organism is torpid and brackish. Even the reflexes are diminished, as if the lower leg couldn't be bothered to jerk itself out of its stupor when the knee is tapped. Viscosity occurs on a cellular level. And so does velocity. In contrast to viscosity's cellular coma, velocity endows every platelet and muscle fiber with a mind of its own, a means of knowing and commenting on its own behavior. There is too much perception, and beyond the plethora of perceptions, a plethora of thoughts about the perceptions and about the fact of having perceptions. Digestion could kill you! What I mean is the unceasing awareness of the processes of digestion could exhaust you to death. And digestion is just an involuntary sideline to thinking, which is where the real trouble beings. Take a thought -- anything; it doesn't matter. I'm tired of sitting here in front of the nursing station: a perfectly reasonable thought. Here's what velocity does to it. First, break down the sentence: I'm tired -- well, are you really tired, exactly? Is that like sleepy? You have to check all your body parts for sleepiness, and while you're doing that, there's a bombardment of images of sleepiness, along these lines: head falling onto pillow, head hitting pillow, Wynken, Blynken, and Nod, Little Nemo rubbing sleep from his eyes, a sea monster. Uh-oh, a sea monster. If you're lucky, you can avoid the sea monster and stick with sleepiness. Back to the pillow, memories of having mumps at age five, sensation of swollen cheeks on pillows and pain on salivation -- stop. Go back to sleepiness. But the salivation notion is too alluring, and now there's an excursion into the mouth. You've been here before and it's bad. It's the tongue: Once you think of the tongue it becomes an intrustion. Why is the tongue so large? Why is it scratchy on the sides? Is that a vitamin deficiency? Could you remove the tongue? Wouldn't your mouth be less bothersome without it? There'd be more room in there. The tongue, now, every cell of the tongue, is enormous. It's a vast foreign object in your mouth. Trying to diminish the size of your tongue, you focus your attention on its components: tip, smooth; back, bumpy; sides, scratchy, as noted earlier (vitamin deficiency); roots -- trouble. There are roots to the tongue. You've seen them, and if you put your finger in your mouth you can feel them, but you can't feel them with the tongue. It's a paradox. Paradox. The tortoise and the hare. Achilles and the what? The tortoise? The tendon? The tongue? Back to tongue. While you weren't thinking of it, it got a little smaller. But thinking of it makes it big again. Why is it scratchy on the sides? Is that a vitamin deficiency? You've thought these thoughts already, but now these thoughts have been stuck onto your tongue. They adhere to the existence of your tongue. All of that took less than a minute, and there's still the rest of the sentence to figure out. And all you wanted, really, was to decide whether or not to stand up. Viscosity and velocity are opposites, yet they can look the same. Viscosity causes the stillness of disinclination; velocity causes the stillness of fascination. An observer can't tell if a person is silent and still because inner life has stalled or because inner life is transfixingly busy. Something common to both is repetitive thought. Experiences seem prerecorded, stylized. Particular patterns of thought get attached to particular movements or activities, and before you know it, it's impossible to approach that movement or activity without dislodging an avalanche of prethought thoughts. A lethargic avalanche of synthetic thought can take days to fall. Part of the mute paralysis of viscosity comes from knowing every detail of what's ahead and having to wait for its arrival. Here comes the I'm-no-good thought. That takes care of today. All day the insistent dripping of I'm no good. The next thought, the next day, is I'm the Angel of Death. This thought has a glittering expanse of panic behind it, which is unreachable. Viscosity flattens the effervescence of panic. These thoughts have no meaning. They are idiot mantras that exist in a prearranged cycle: I'm no good, I'm the Angel of Death, I'm stupid, I can't do anything. Thinking the first thought triggers the whole circuit. It's like the flu: first a sore throat, then, inevitably, a stuffy nose and a cough. Once, these thoughts must have had a meaning. They must have meant what they said. But repetition has blunted them. They have become background music, a Muzak medley of self-hatred themes. Which is worse, overload or underload? Luckily, I never had to choose. One or the other would assert itself, rush or dribble through me, and pass on. Pass on to where? Back into my cells to lurk like a virus waiting for the next opportunity? Out into the ether of the world to wait for the circumstances that would provoke its reappearance? Endogenous or exogenous, nature or nurture -- it's the great myster of mental illness.

Heh, my mom told me a kinda funny thing about the whole annoying depression thing a lil while back and just the way she worded it was funny to me. Something to do with the fact that falling isn't bad, but not being bouncy is. She maintains that some people's problem is that they never learn to bounce. Anyway, I'm back in school. No more roomie to make me feel degraded and hopeless (in fact I have a private room), a few semi-friends who are all nice in passing. One of them was my hall director last year, and he even gave me a ride when it was raining since I didn't have an umbrella; as in, he got up off his ass, got in his car, and came and got me. Things like that count a lot with me. When you do something that's moderately inconvenient for another person, it shows that you actually care and are interested. The biggest annoyance now? I GAINED BACK WEIGHT! ~twitch~ I'm kicking 150, lol! I was almost to 140!!!! Noooooooooo, I can feel the honeybuns catching up to meeeeeeeeeeee! However, I know the solution, bwahahahahaha... I'm in Hillcrest, which is the absolute furthest point from all of my classes, gas stations, restaurants, everything. The first day I got back I got in a solid six miles of walking. At this rate, I'll be fine. I've been ravenously hungry lately, but I'm chalking that up to the liver deal and being fed like a horse daily while at my grandma's for two weeks. I swear that woman would NOT let me just be like "I'm not hungry...", even though I seriously WASN'T. And quite frankly, sometimes I get in moods where I just don't want to eat, it makes me feel worse because then I get all full and tired and anti-energetic, and start thinking too much. I'd rather have the exhilaratingly empty and caffeinated feeling when I'm down, it counters it a little, y'know? I used to eat a lot when I was sad (which was all the time back in the day), and I paid the price for that by pushing 190 pounds at one point. My tummy is still jiggly, and it's gonna take ages to fix that because of the way skin works. It takes a long time for it to regain maximum elasticity, not to mention the fact that I've stopped doing my situps like an idiot. I've gotta figure out how to use the whole gym thing on campus; an ab machine would be a godsend at this point. The liver deal, by the way, is still up in the air but I think I'm fine. At first, my doc was all like "Jeez, your liver enzymes are terrible, get an ultrasound", so I got the ultrasound yesterday. Chick's eyes didn't bug out, and from what I could tell my liver didn't look nutso or anything, so I should be just peachy. The liver enzymes thing was expected since it takes a while for your system to clean up after you trash it, so meh, I'm good. Not like I'm a habitual alcoholic or anything (I couldn't be, I puke too much when I'm drunk, and I do not know when to stop drinking, lol). Um, truthfully I feel really good. Sometimes I wonder if I'm manic-depressive, but I'm not really "elated" or "euphoric"... just okay. In juxtaposition to a recent bad time, yeah, it seems great, but it's really just normal I think. I have a few things that really push my buttons, and at that point it was like somebody decided to play whack-a-mole with all my buttons but they cheated and just held them all down. I have classes every day. French is every single day, bio twice a week, intro to computing only once a week. That last class, by the way, is a joke. Bio's gonna be my hardest one, but I think I'll be fine as long as I put in some effort. For once, I'm actually prepared to do that, too. Oh, and that friend that gave me the ride, he also offered to help my bunk the beds in my room so I'd have more space. I've not taken him up on it yet 'cause I'm lazy and I'm not sure how I want to arrange things just yet, but it was quite nice of him. Haha, one more thing, the bed I have doesn't squeak. God the last bed was so loud, even if I was just turning over trying to get to sleep, it made enough noise to wake the dead. OH, I should check my mailbox today... haven't done it in weeks, lol. I should also ask if it's actually all nice and still registered for me to use during the summer. Also going to check on getting into a lab today, I forgot to sign up for my Bio II lab and they're all closed now but hopefully someone will take pity on poor lil ole me. If not, f**K it, I'll just add it in later. Bad thing is it starts at eight every wednesday.... and I HATE waking up before noon, let alone at eight. I FINALLY WROTE SOMETHING AGAIN! My dear editor (Conner) is taking care of it for me, but I have a suspicion that no one will be all that fond of the story. It's a short, but it's the first thing I've written in ages that didn't feel like pure work, it was actually fun again. After the amount of papers I had to write over the last two semesters, I thought I'd never want to write anything again, but God it was great, so nice and fulfilling even if the story did turn out to be less than satisfactory. I just don't care, it was for me. Something pretty funny... my little sister who is now fourteen is obsessed with Ryan Ross. I just don't have the heart to tell her that if it came down to it, I'd kick her ass to get him. If I get a car while Panic's still in its prime, I'm going to kidnap her and take her with me to a concert no matter what my mom says. It's about goddamn time someone in our family was allowed to have some good old fashioned senseless fun. The way my mom and the kids have been going, I'm worried they're all going to burn out and things will fall apart. Too much work and too much stress for all of them, and I'm not in the position to be able to help. I also need to dye my hair again today. My roots grow out crazy fast, and I end up looking like I have a bald spot if I'm not careful because of the black surrounding the brown where my hair swirls. Also, one of my sister's old friends added me on facebook. I had French with him but I didn't ever talk to him since he was on the other side of the room and I figured he'd forgotten all about me by then, even if he did recognize me. I'm guessing he did know who I was. Haha, and guess what! I'm pretty f**king sure he's gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay, which makes me giggle. I mean, I knew he was, but my older sister had told me something about him changing his mind or something. I suppose everyone considers that at some point, but I'd only do it for a select few women (Amy Lee and Yuka Sato come to mind). Even then, it's only because they're so amazing that it just wouldn't matter that they had a vagina. Okay, so, today's gonna be a great day. I'm happy and healthy and going to take a shower now so I don't smell! Bye bye, love you all, and thanks again for being so nice to me while I was down. It means a lot, usually actually more than when it comes from my closest friends and family because I know you guys are a little more objective than they are. HAVE A GREAT f**kING DAY! P.S. I'm almost nineteen, only about a month and a half to go. I don't feel like I'm almost nineteen, but it's still pretty f**king cool that my birthday's coinciding with what I consider to be a major developmental leap in my life and coping skills.

hahaha, yay. And I'm glad, since I just finished it and sent it off to my wondrously wonderful magically delicious editor-man, aka Conner.

Time After Time Good ole Cyndi Lauper... don't ask, lol.

.... that fury warrior.... she's umm... level 62 now. She also, by the way, crits for over 3k sometimes. I heart my Luciana.

And I said, "Hey boy What you crying for? It'll be okay in the end. And if this life doesn't give you the love you expect, There's always the next. Soldier, by Anna Nalick. I'm writing now. The whole song inspired the story in a way... and I'm completely ripping off a couple of phrases, damn it, which I would normally feel bad about doing but it's just too pretty to resist putting it together.