08.Jan.2001

aggro pink

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Okay, ravieslave, it's all gone.

I have slowly come to the conclusion that I really, seriously, utterly do not care. And I'm itchy and need my diary back again, so for the entertainment purpose of the prying eyes, I came back. It is early morning on the 8th of January, 2001. Thank God the new millennium came.
I miss my boys. Peter and Sean stayed the weekend with me, since I will be here in Oklahoma until the 3rd of Feb. My mother's in the Psych Ward at Saint Anthony's hospital (again), due to very slowly driving herself insane.
What did someone say to Joe once?
"No wonder Raven's mother had so many nervous breakdowns."
It was in the context of my vulgarly perverted website.
Hey, yeah, no wonder women who totally over-react suck.
Because I am back home for the time being, I went through the myriad crap journals of my past, and laughed. It was one of those exasperated cry-laughs. I could not believe how much of a submissive dyke I was at the time.
I have decided pretty much everything is not worth my time nor effort.
Still being internet stalked, but then again so is everyone else, so what are you gonna do. The Big Boys (RCMP) really do not care about it, so it's out of my hands.
But I miss my boys. For those prying eyes, it's family -- don't worry, no juicy gossip for you today.
OK, so one of them is family, not Sean my jailbait slaveboy. He's a tremendously sweet, perverted kid. Funny to see the 'age of consent' shoe on the other (my) foot this time around. I knew my tastes got younger as time willfully progressed, but ... (wink)
They will be over here again next weekend, probably. I hope to be well-stocked on food and necessities for them by then. I swear I'm a 14-year-old boy at heart. This makes me gay. GayER, I suppose.

Ravieslave: hey
Boy: hey babe
Boy: How're ya doing?
Ravieslave: I'm all aggro and rock chick tonight.
Boy: Oh?
Ravieslave: I am pissed off and bitter and gonna kick some ass. At least until I get tired, then I'll probably fall asleep.
Boy: I didn't do it!
Boy: What're you pissed about?
Ravieslave: Pretty much everything right now.
Ravieslave: I was evaluating the utter stagnicity that is my life.
Ravieslave: And I read over some very very very old journal entries that had to do with the precious things of my past.
Ravieslave: Like boys not dancing with me at school dances because I was fat, and girls using every core-inch of my body/soul for their own amusement.
Ravieslave: And I was like: 'Goddamn it, I am still bitter!'
Ravieslave: And started listening to angry white chick music. GOOD angry white chick music. And here I am. REOR.
Boy: *hides*
Ravieslave: It's time to break out the steel flogger adorned with rusty nails, and time to start making a mess. No more will I be bossed around.
Ravieslave: I'll get over it.
Ravieslave: Anyway, hi.
Boy: Sigh.

These things still tear me up, I'm afraid. When I read about going to camp for a weekend, some Christian camp bullshit that prides itself on its holy niceties, and behind the virginal cassock stance, kids shooting up other kids, kids fucking other kids, kids fucking up other kids, and me being withdrawn and gothic and mopey.
It makes me ill.
I would like to find a pair of jeans that fit, eat a hamburger, and rape a cheerleader, and I think I'll feel much better about myself. I want to do my makeup in glitter, and blow up a football team while talking to squirrels and picking flowers. I want to be 14 again. I want to do it all over again, this time NOT wearing a bra, and licking on virgin chess players.
Of course, that's just me, and the intense core of my existence is based on true ephemeralness.

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time & machine