This is sweet Tommy-Cat. He's gotten so big. I loves him.
"Goats make better lovers than sheep
Reply to: firstname.lastname@example.org
Date: 2005-04-22, 2:10PM PDT
I've found that goats, in general, are more attentive to my particular needs. Because sheep are able to get sex anytime they want, from anyone they want, they tend to be a little more finicky & less sexually adventerous. They are prude, much like a really hot cheerleader that saves it all for prom night, but then drinks too much & ends up losing it to some undeserving jock right before she leaves for college. If you haven't had the opportunity to make it with a goat, try to make it happen. By the way, I'm referring only to female goats....I'm no pervert."
What the Fuck? And just yesterday I went to The Farm out here and saw newborn baby goats. Oh God they were cute. I took pictures for you, but I can't put them up from here. I'll do it soon though. They were sooooooo amazing; tiny, soft, barely able to stand on their cute little wobbly legs, and they made the sweetest little bleating sounds. There were baby sheep, pigs, chickens and ducks as well. The little pigs were also one day old. I don't know how old the little sheepys were, maybe only a few, but their Mom was super protective. I took pictures from a distance because I didn't want to upset her. Being there was the hilight of my month.
I am in the weirdest mood. I'm at Scott's house in the valley. I spent the night because we're (or we were) going to do the new cover shoot for his CD at Sunset tonight, but it's totally overcast and may rain so it looks like we're going to have to reschedule it.
I have been saving up stories and putting pictures together for you, and kind of unable to to just go ahead and assemble an entry for y'all. I guess I'm in a funk. If I'm bipolar, then this must be the depressive low period, and if it's just plain ol' depression, well, then hello sadness my old friend, if you know what I mean. Bleh. And I'm so mean to my blue periods too. I never feel I deserve them when there are people and creatures out there who are really suffering while I sit here with the full use of all of my limbs and senses, complaining about what, nothing, really. I have a wonderful son, who, like most kids his age, can, yes, be a pain in the butt, but big deal, we get along so well, and he's smart, super-smart, compassionate, funny, gifted, just a really great kid. I have a lover and a partner who is good to me. It's not perfect. He's an overly-sensitive, moody, anxious, negative SOB at times, while at the same time being the best friend I have -- an amazing lover, really, and again, like Beau, super-smart, super-creative, and patient as the day is long. I love him and I'm lucky to have him. Then there's my Mom; at eighty-nine-or-whatever-many-years-old she is, she is more open minded and understanding than many Mom's who are half her age, and that would have to include my birth-mom who really could care less about me, even though I yearn for connection with her, sigh.
Oh you know what...I just can't do this, everything leads me back down these sad hurting paths, Mom reminds me of Mom who reminds me that I'm the daughter of a rape and then I think about Maria's friend Lisa who in my mind has become the scolding voice of every "Just Do It" Nike ad I've ever seen, and it turns out she's the sister of an old college friend who probably doesn't even know I exist any more and would hate me if he did because now I've alienated his sister who I used to love and thought of as part of my extended circle of connections. I'm mad for pregnant women and Moms and since I saw her when she was pregnant she just kind of became a part of my "pray for her good" extended karmic world. I also feel betrayed whenever someone who knows me, however little, through friends or small connections, befriends me on-line without telling me how they really know me. It's such a spooky feeling.
You know what, I think I'm going to extend a kind of tax-amnesty period here for anyone reading my journal who has befriended me under an alias without telling me that they know me in real life. Olly olly oxen free, free, free, free. I dare you!
Okay, I'm off to do something compulsive to fill the gaping hole because I'm hurting so bad I don't know what else to do, and no, don't tell me to go to Curves because I just can't make myself do it today. I'll be better later, I swear I will. Ignore this brief self pitying moment, they pass quickly, it'll be almost as if it didn't happen. There's so much behind the words that I don't write, but how would you know this...
Scott asked us to take a picture of a road runner for him when we went to Palm Desert and even though I said I would, what I really was thinking was, "Yeah, right, what are the odds of that?" Then just as we were driving off for home, with our car packed to the roof with stuff, we saw this little birdie. These aren't the best pictures, but I feel accomplished nevertheless.</small>