Poppy Z. Brite's Blog, page 57

Getting Ahead

I just woke up from a dream in which I was a ghoul snacking on a severed head. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to me, the zombie apocalypse had happened and the head started screaming at me. It was actually kind of comical, but it hath murdered sleep, at least for the moment.

Grey is camping with and photographing the protesters down by City Hall tonight. He has what must be the most luxurious revolutionary encampment ever -- I dropped him off with his tent, air mattress, pillows, nice blankets, candles, bug spray, fleur-de-lis flags, friends, and an assortment of snacks and drinks. I myself am occupying my bedroom, at least unless the cats get all fascist on my ass and evict me. I don't know about this whole protest thing. I guess the scene in New York is pretty serious, and the cause is certainly righteous if simplistic (huge corporations suck; poor people need more resources), but down at Duncan Plaza it kind of looked like an elaborate game they were playing, very much with the permission of the police and city government. Our friend Guthrie of Refuel Cafe is going to bring a hundred servings of his famous grits in the morning (and someone will inevitably complain that they're not vegan). Well, it's a lovely moonlit night for camping out, and I'm sure they are all having a good time, and I'm probably just a jaded old asshole for thinking the whole thing is a little bit silly.

Earlier today we felt like getting out of the city, so we drove down to Shell Beach in St. Bernard. Grey had never been there, but being an island boy at heart (born and raised on Martha's Vineyard), he loves being around boats and water, as do I. It was too buggy to go on the birding trail, but we did see a beautiful male Vermilion Flycatcher, my first lifer bird in quite a while.

Letter to the Editor

From today's Times-Picayune: Billy Martin's first sally into public life.

Peeking In

I haven't been in an Internet mood lately, but I am doing fine. Very fine. Geaux Saints!

Chat Log

This is also a FetLife entry, but I think it's tame enough to post here too.


billythetwink: Etiquette question: What should one do when one's knees and tops of feet are so bruised up from being a dick-sucking whore that one's sharp-eyed mother keeps asking why one has all these bruises?

marquisdd: Kneepads! Sure, it shouts of expectation, but that's status quo at the Phoenix.

billythetwink: They have to be nice ones, though. But tough enough to stand up to the restroom floor at Rawhide.

marquisdd: Heh. "Restroom." What a misnomer.

billythetwink: Oh, I dunno ... I got some, and then I got the rest!

billythetwink: :-D

marquisdd: Zing!

marquisdd: HusBen says, "I wouldn't put anything on my knees I was planning to keep. Not there."

billythetwink: Hmmm. Probably good advice. I documented them when I got home. I don't know why I am so proud of being so filthy.

Link to pic of my disgusting knees

marquisdd: JEEZUS! Novelty?

billythetwink: Maybe. This can't be wrong when it feels so right. Debbie Boone, circa 1978.

marquisdd: Don't it make your brown knees blue.

billythetwink: Heeheeheeheehee! I think I'm writing a song called "Why Fill Up On Hotdogs When My Foie Gras's Coming Home?".

Beard!

For those who don't have FetLife accounts:



You can just about kinda sorta see my teensy baby beard in this picture!

Life In General

Lots going on. Chris took a much-needed trip to Pensacola this week with some of his restaurant crew, and when he came home, we talked and talked and ended up with everything well between us. Both of us have new horizons to explore, but we like living and spending time together, and we especially like it since there's no longer any tension about whether we're going to have sex. So we're going to remain committed companions and build our own little families as well, which will of course intersect at some points. At least that's the plan, and it's a weight off my heart, because I'll never stop loving Chris and I can't stand it when things are weird between us.

Grey is on his way home, probably arriving Monday or Tuesday, so you can expect me to fall silent for a while around the middle of next week. Got a telephone call from Istanbul, my baby's coming home today! Today is the two-month anniversary of our first meeting, and when you find yourself counting things like that, you know you've got it bad for somebody, don't you?

Topping & Fisting

New FetLife post.

Also !!1One, WTF, & BBQ

For all the folks alerting me to this and asking what I think of it:

OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG

Shades of Grey

Many years ago, I believed I was in favor of the death penalty, with a weak sop to my conscience about "reservations due to racial skewing." Well, I'll never agree with the Catholic obsession with position on abortion, but being a Catholic, studying the Church's teachings about capital punishment, and simply seeing the federal/state killing system in action has definitely changed my mind about the death penalty. (And, like a good Catholic, I feel terribly guilty that I ever held the other position.)

On the night the State of Georgia killed Troy Davis, I happened to be out on a date with Kelvin*, a black guy who was in town for a business conference. He'd left his hotel room TV on, and just as we came back into his room, one of the news channels was announcing the completed execution.

"Oh, fuck," I said, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach (the three Wild Turkey and sodas I'd just had could have contributed to this). "They went ahead and killed him."

"Of course they did," Kelvin said.

And I thought, yeah, of course they did. White privilege (please please you guys no wank about this term I'm asking nicely OK) allows me to believe there is always a chance, especially when there is as much doubt as there was in Davis' case, as if it were a story I was reading. Without that privilege. I guess you know there is no real chance. Of course they did.

This song has been much on my mind because River of Dreams is probably my favorite album right now and the tune is catchy as fuck and it has my boyfriend's name in it a lot (spelled right, even). But the lyrics, I think, are particularly intelligent and true. And apt. Too apt.


SHADES OF GREY

by Billy Joel

Some things were perfectly clear
Seen with the vision of youth
No doubts and nothing to fear
I claimed the corner on truth
These days it's harder to say
I know what I'm fighting for
My faith is falling away
I'm not that sure anymore

Shades of grey wherever I go
The more I find out the less that I know
Black and white is how it should be
But shades of grey are the colors I see

Once there were trenches and walls
And one point of every view
Fight 'til the other man falls
Kill him before he kills you.
These days the edges are blurred
I'm old and tired of war
I hear the other man's words
I'm not that sure anymore

Shades of grey are all that I find
When I look to the enemy line
Black and white was so easy for me
But shades of grey are the colors I see

Now with the wisdom of years
I try to reason things out
And the only people I fear
Are those who never have doubts
Save us from arrogant men
And all the causes they're for
I won't be righteous again
I'm not that sure anymore

Shades of grey are all that I find
When I look to the enemy line
Ain't no rainbows shining on me
Shades of grey are the colors I see

Shades of grey wherever I go
The more I find out the less that I know
Ain't no rainbows shining on me
Shades of grey are the colors I see



*pseudonym

LOLidols

The "Happy Birthday" post below keeps cracking me up because, due to the positioning of the icon and the picture, it looks like Billy is scared of Steve.