- 5 minutes ago: Reading alt.polyamory and my LiveJournal friends list
- 5 hours ago: Listening to OH argue on the phone with someone at the UC Center on Deafness
- 5 days ago: Watching Akira
- 5 weeks ago: Being amazed at the human resilience to disaster, and angry at human simplemindedness, which is undoubtedly related to the resilience.
- 5 months ago: Preparing for a tag sale and being innocent about how lousy my next five months were going to be.
- 5 years ago: Taking OH on his first (and so far only) trip to the Other Coast.
I'm a 33 year old woman and last week I had my hair cut at a barber shop. I have a small tail in the back of my head, and I can deadlift ninety-five pounds, and I have a leopard print pillow and a leopard print knitted throw. I live in Northern California, and I make quote files from videotapes of Babylon 5 and roll on a blue vinyl ball 3 feet in diameter.
My partner doesn't have a last name. His blue and white stuffed cat is peeking over the top of the bookcase in the front hallway. I have a panther inside me called Black Heat. I have a lover who lives in an octagonal one-room house down a twisty private road in the Santa Cruz mountains, where the stars blaze. The first morning I woke up there, I stared out the window over the tree strewn hilltops and wept.
I collect percussion instruments and they were overflowing the finished spool table (my second), but recently, I put most of them in a box to make room for the table-top fountain, a ceramic blue bowl stuffed with hunks of slate and smooth elliptoid black stones.