Independant Journal Entries

15 creative works found

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• its all happenin..
  by webgrrl

  june 11 2008 : / Got a call from the real estate today.. to say bad news..but Notice of vacate has been sent..owners movin family back in…

  june 11 2008 : / Got a call from the real estate today.. to say bad news..but Notice of vacate has been sent..owners movin family back in etc..i have 60 days. / So its happening sooner than later..i was aiming for a move late this year..or early next..but the universe decided to shake things up.. so i gotta find a place to get closer to work opportunities.. / son and daughter wants to stay around the area.. so like a Vangelis song.. / The State of Independence.. it shall be WEBGRRL SEEKS SHARE ACCOMODATION / with creative household.. i suppose thats the first step / gulp how do i do this transition of mum/kids/house to me free to do..go..be.. / in 60days.. ..to be continued

• Regrettably... Devil's Advocacy is an important tool for subjectivity
  by kathleen

  (Disclaimer: these ideas are not necessarily reflective of personal opinion) / I HAVE TO ADD THIS TO EVERY JOURNAL I POST FROM NOW ON, P…

  (Disclaimer: these ideas are not necessarily reflective of personal opinion) / I HAVE TO ADD THIS TO EVERY JOURNAL I POST FROM NOW ON, PLEASE NOTE IT. Sometimes I like to raise topics for discussion and elaboration, like radio talk-back! For some reason some people seem to think i am stating my own opinions (please read my wording more than once if you feel angry at me and before getting tense in your response… please, I am getting better too at developing this style here.) If you state your perspective from the most extreme angle it encourages further participation and thought because it invokes the more extreme emotional responses, just a bit on psyche… hee he It’s what all those right wing talk back hosts do (just some of them believe it as well… tch tch)... So please, try to separate the topics I raise from me… I feel that some people might like to bite, which is fine, but bite into the topic not my thigh… please… I am pretty thick skinned but I also believe that concerning topics should be open for discussion even if they leave a bad taste if your mouth… This little community is a society, how can we manage it so this can happen? Should I stop asking for opinion publicly about topics I am airing? Chances are I won’t, RedBubble needs independent media… But tell me your thoughts and opinions without making it personal please. YOU HAVE THE CHOICE OF NOT RESPONDING, YOU DON’T HAVE TO READ MY JOURNAL EITHER… BUT I AM GLAD THAT YOU DO AND I VALUE YOUR OPINION…

• The magic number
  by Xavier Russo

  Is there a magic number of times that people have to hear about something before they take action? Maybe the first time you hear some…

  Is there a magic number of times that people have to hear about something before they take action? Maybe the first time you hear something, you think “OK, maybe i’ll look sometime”. Then the next time, you think “that’s odd, i wonder what’s going on”. But the third or fourth time, you sit up, take notice and go check it out. At times here at RedBubble, the marketing team has been busy doing lots of activities, but not being 100% sure which individual things were working. You think to yourself: “maybe no-one noticed?” Then (like today) you get an email out of the blue that starts with “Firstly I saw RedBubble in dumbo feather, then I walked past the shop on Smith Street, then I saw a link for it up on the screen at an arts law presentation – 3 hits in one day” ...and all of a sudden you feel much better! So, my theory is that people need to hear about stuff from multiple independent sources before they take it seriously. What do you think? Has this been your experience with your art, writing, or other stuff in life?

• Shirty07 Tshirt market event! Everybody come!
  by Billmund

  In case some of you didn’t know, I am a part of a collective/label called Filthy Panda with fellow pandas Willo and Burnsy. A trio of goo…

  In case some of you didn’t know, I am a part of a collective/label called Filthy Panda with fellow pandas Willo and Burnsy. A trio of good mates who share a love for art+design+fashion, we make shirts. And all of our shirts are of course printed by the fine folks at Redbubble, big thanks go to Ed Redman who sorted us out in time for the event! Filthy Panda will be at Shirty07 on SATURDAY, selling their swag and swilling beers. Shirty07 is a new not-for-profit design initiative – a market selling only t-shirts. It’s an event that fuses fashion with art, music with culture; where guests can purchase unique t-shirt designs direct from independent designers, enjoy live music and chill out at the bar with a drink! At least that’s what it says on the flyer, all shirts are capped at $69 so everything is kept accessable. The flyer also says : The first Shirty will be held on SATURDAY SEPTEMBER 15TH / Midday 2 Midnight / At the Newtown Neighbourhood Centre / 1 Bedford Street Newtown (opposite the train station) www.shirty07.com Shirty07 will seriously be sick, and you’re all invited! Hope to see you there, With love, The Filthy Panda team. xo!

• My first Paper
  by linaji

  I am not going to bore you with all my papers this semester but it is interesting how yesterdays connections with my fellow female bubble…

  I am not going to bore you with all my papers this semester but it is interesting how yesterdays connections with my fellow female bubblelites encouraged me to pick this passage from the book ‘Into The Wild’ where I was to comment on a paragraph and write one in response… Here it is and thanks for your inspiration every day.!! xoxoxox Into The Wild Page 70 It is true that many creative people fail to make mature personal relationships, and some are extremely isolated. It is also true that, in some instances, trauma, in the shape of early separation or bereavement, has steered the potentially creative person toward developing aspects of his personality, which can find fulfillment in comparative isolation. But this does not mean that solitary, creative pursuits are themselves pathological…. / Avoidance behavior is a response designed to protect the infant from behavioral disorganization. If we transfer this concept to adult life, we can see that an avoidant infant might very well develop into a person whose principal need was to find some kind of meaning and order in life which was not entirely, or even chiefly, dependent upon interpersonal relationships. / Anthony Storr, / Solitude: A Return To Self Response: / I have become active as an individual, creatively, in the latter part of my life. Meaning I am choosing activities and projects that envelope the whole of me; the intellectual as well as the spiritual self. Before pursuing these creative outlets, I can see where my tendencies toward isolation and the inability to make ‘mature personal relationships’ were puzzling for me as well as others. Now, looking back on my life, I can see what Anthony Storr refers to as ‘trauma in the shape of early separation or bereavement’ causing ‘Avoidance behavior’. However the good news is this kind of contrast that life introduced me to early on has indeed allowed me to want to find as he says ‘meaning and order in life which was not entirely, or even chiefly, dependent upon interpersonal relationships.’ I feel the creative self has perhaps an uncomfortable ingredient that does not allow for complacency early on, this ‘ingredient’ is so subtle in the making we sometimes do not come around to it ‘s full intention in this life. Sometimes we ignore our longings toward our higher sense of being and miss the boat altogether. For me, I am here at the last minuet of acceptance in school because I could no longer avoid its call to me. And frankly, I believe this is what keeps me inspired, passionate and young!

• Nothing Binding
  by Kate Smith

  NOTHING BINDING – NEW PLACE FOR INDIE AUTHORS / / At NothingBinding.com, we will provide the largest selection of independent titles av…

  NOTHING BINDING – NEW PLACE FOR INDIE AUTHORS / / At NothingBinding.com, we will provide the largest selection of independent titles available to readers. NothingBinding.com is all about Independent Authors and the creation of a market to sell your books. We offer readers around the world the opportunity to find your titles in one location, then purchase your books through a link to your site or wherever your books are sold. We need your help. Tell your friends, neighbors, colleagues, members of writing groups, and other readers about NothingBinding.com, and our new and exciting books. Please forward this email to the readers in your address book, and add this information to your newsletters. Your support is important as we forge ahead to change the face of Independent Publishing around the globe. Jerry D. Simmons & Ben Ruddy / NothingBinding

• The Holidays are Coming!
  by Leslie Battjes

  Hi everyone! / Memorial Day is just around the corner here in the U.S., and before we know it, it’ll be time for fireworks and parades and…

  Hi everyone! / Memorial Day is just around the corner here in the U.S., and before we know it, it’ll be time for fireworks and parades and such for the 4th of July! If you’re looking for something cool to wear or to give as a gift, look no further…I’ve got 3 beautiful patriotic tees for sale. Have a look! :) Thanks, / Leslie / /

• Thank You to Lori Peters and Elaine Farmer For Featuring: Is It Worth Fighting For
  by Marie's Memories

  This is an image you MUST see. A special tribute to all the service men and women who have so bravely defended the USA. We live in a land…

  This is an image you MUST see. A special tribute to all the service men and women who have so bravely defended the USA. We live in a land of freedom because men and women across our great nation are so willing to say, Yes, It Is Worth Fighting For!! / My deepest gratitude to all those serving our country. May God pour out his special blessings on you and your families. For Viewing This Image: go to Elaine Farmer’s profile

• Happy Independence Day!
  by N Kumar Bellani

  Have a ball ! / With a lots o lols!! Burgers, crackers, bar-be-cue- beers and cheers!!!

  Have a ball ! / With a lots o lols!! Burgers, crackers, bar-be-cue- beers and cheers!!!

• Something just came to me!
  by Snoboardnlife

  In the last few years I’ve changed a lot! I used to look forward to things where now I just hate them! For example I used to love B da…

  In the last few years I’ve changed a lot! I used to look forward to things where now I just hate them! For example I used to love B days and Holidays, now when they are approaching I almost get depressed. I hate my Birthday’s I pretty much lock myself up and hide from the world. Christmas is a Joke, you spend all this money to make people happy and never even get a thank you. Thanksgiving, fucking sucks! Why do I need to give thanks, maybe I should thank god? For what giving me a horrible childhood, fucked up teen years, heart break, after heart break, as an adult. Valentines Day, yeah it makes me realize that everyone else in the world is happy, yet I’m miserable, and every time I am happy, it never lasts! I like New Years because I can drown my sorrows with alcohol! 4th of July, is a joke. It’s supposed to be “Independence Day.” Yeah it meant something back in the day, but now we are so far indebted to China and England, they basically own us. Easter, whatever I don’t have kids, no fun there. So yes I have turned into the Grinch! I realize that all this came on after my ex ripped out my heart, stomped on it, cut it up into little pieces, put it in a blender, and then flushed it down the toilet! 3 Years later I still can’t trust anyone, not even my friends… I’m incapable of ever really truly loving someone! So I ask myself, “Why Me?” all the time. Anyone have any suggestions? And don’t just say, “Get Over it!” Trust me I’ve tried!

• MY GREAT AUNT---AN INDEPENDENT WOMAN
  by Joe Beasley IPA

  Anthia Jane Brady Hughes was an independent woman, well ahead of her time. William “Doc” Hughes, her husband was a businessman with many …

  Anthia Jane Brady Hughes was an independent woman, well ahead of her time. William “Doc” Hughes, her husband was a businessman with many interest and pursuits. Information regarding my maternal grandparents is from a review of letters, documents, papers and my observations and conservation’s with them as a child growing up in their household, along with my parents, Aunt Willie, and brother. At intervals, Anthia had responsibility for younger siblings, and other relatives. She worked on her uncle’s riverboat and became interested in a passenger’s camera. This started her interest photographs that eventually resulted in the establishment of the Brady Sisters Studio in Bridgeport Alabama and South Pittsburg Tennessee with Kempt. Anthia and William Darius Hughes ware married July 24, 1892. He was operating a Distillery and a saloon in McMinnville, along with ownership and management of a saloon and livery stable in Dayton. Hughes Photography Studio was open for business at their residence on East Main St. in May 1898. Prior to this, Anthia was operating a restaurant on Main Street. Kempt married Joe Ralston of South Pittsburgh and continued to operate the photography studio for a period of time. (They were the parents of movie star, Jobyna Ralston) Anthia operated a boarding house, “The Worthy” in St. Louis in 1903-4 during the world’s fair. She returned to McMinnville and the Photography Studio, Glad the traveling back and forth to St. Louis by family members was over. Records indicate she sold a farm (April 6, 1906) in St Louis, Mo. For 100 shares in Woodlawn (?) Handle Mfg. Co. In 1910, She was operating the City Bakery and the Studio. W.D. Hughes and a Smith designed and produced the “Perfect Churn”. (I’m not sure of the time sequence in some of these ventures.) W.D Hughes had a ice wagon, making sales. His connection with the Mountain View Canning company is not clear, though it seems likely he was into this with a partner. Locals indicate, and Berlie remembers helping to haul wagon loads of sweet potatoes to the location. Apples were a product too. Anthia raised Jersey cattle and started the Riverside Dairy from the home place. Pastures were some distance away from the house. The Perfect Churn was used in the production of buttermilk and butter. She molded into round units of delicious butter. W.D. opened a Buick dealership in 1922 in McMinnville that may have been the in the area. He and Ira Gross, his brother in law had owned and operated the McMinnville Bottling Co, later the Coca Cola company until the sold the bottling plant, equipment, franchise and contracts to P.S Barnette and H.B. Mahan September 19, 1922. A dissolution notice confirms that the partnership of the Leader Printing Company between Tom M. Woodard and W. D. Hughes was dissolved by mutual consent to take effect July 9, 1923, with W.D. assuming all indebtedness and all accounts payable to him as the sole owner. I think he owned the newspaper “The McMinnville Leader” for a period of time. He and J.W. Womack were listed as editors. Among other items, there’s a Charter of Corporation of the Riverside Oil and Gas Company on Oct. 25, 1922 listing participants as I. N. Smoot, Patrick Clancy, HB Gulick, W. D. Hughes, and W.Hackett Ross. The purpose of the company was listed “as drilling and prospecting for oil and gas, leasing and acquiring lands necessary for such drilling and mining for oil and gas; and for the further purpose of selling all such products as are produced,” records indicate the charter was recorded on 11-6-27. Tax records indicate W. D. owned property in Warren, Coffee, and Rhea Counties. A bill indicates W. D. was associated with a Winton, as dealer in mules, livestock and feedstuffs in McMinnville in Feb., 1925. He purchased stock in the Dayton Canning Co. of East Tenn., Crusader Aircraft Corporation the American Gyro Company, the Alto Gasoline and Oil Co., and a significant number of stock down through the years. His last business was a Cedar Chest Manufacturing Co. H e made a huge vegetable garden, raised some hay for cattle, fed hogs for home consumption, etc. During my child hood, Grandmother processed, canned, cooked vegetables, fruits, and meats it was fairly uscral for relatives to appear for a drop in visit near meal times. There was always enough food for all unexpected guests. She usually had two or three vegetables, two meats, hot bread, and desserts that were indescribably delicious, most of the cooking was done on a wood range. There’s never been anyone to even half way compare to her in food preparation. She took an active role with her jersey cattle, though brother took some responsibility for feeding and milking. September 8, 1998 Transcription of notes from Fay Carney Melton (granddaughter of Anthia Brady Hughes) to Joe Hughes Beasley (Grand-Nephew of Anthia Brady Hughes and the third generation of photographers in the family) Over 33,000 large format negatives and glass plates remain from the 70+ years that the studio was operated by Anthia and her daughter Willie. I have been working on them as a private historical preservation project since 1989. In October of 2007. the family archives (Brady-Hughes-Beasley Archives) became a partner with University of Tennessee, The Tennessee State Archives and others in www.volunteervoices.org The project is the creation of a online archive of 10,000 documents showcaseing the history of the State of Tennessee

• Happy 4th of July! (...& Some Photo Tips)
  by bchrisdesigns

  Since the 4th of July is sort of a big deal around these here parts, I just wanted to wish everyone a happy one! Hopefully, I will be ca…

  Since the 4th of July is sort of a big deal around these here parts, I just wanted to wish everyone a happy one! Hopefully, I will be capturing some great images, but, if not, at least everyone will be too drunk to notice! LOL! But, speaking of “great images”, I stumbled upon a great article about taking pictures on the 4th of July! In Photo Tips for the 4th of July, Yahoo! Tech’s Christopher Null (a.k.a. “The Working Guy), lists the top 5 tips for picture taking on the 4th of July from some of the web’s most professional sources (including National Geographic). With a link to each of the top “How To’s” comes their very best tip. For example, digital-photography-school.com says: “Use a tripod, and set the aperture setting to somewhere in the range of f/8 to f/16 for the best results.” And, if these tips are not enough, or just way too much information for your senses to handle, then check out the Working Guy’s own “How To”, For the 4th: How to Photograph Fireworks, a short and sweet guide to capturing fireworks on film. You can even print out his “Cliffs Notes” version and keep in your back pocket or camera bag for reference! Now, let’s get out there and take some great photographs! Oh, yes, and Happy Independence Day USA ! Cheers! ~ b.chris

• Thoughts & Politics
  by MattTucker7

  There are many (myself included) who in the past, or perhaps presently feel that politics don’t effect them, that no matter who’s in the …

  There are many (myself included) who in the past, or perhaps presently feel that politics don’t effect them, that no matter who’s in the House in the coming years, their day-to-day lives will remain the same, and they’ll live them that way. But I’ve come to realize that this has the same detrimental effects of those of us who wish to give our lives to humanitarian work and snub our noses at the wealthy and those who seemingly work and/or live for money. We need all people to make this world go ‘round, and money is unfortunately a necessity to some extent in this world. Those people making the money can allow us to have the funding to do world missions and to start foundations keep non-profits running. They’re influential, as is the money they posses, and they allow us to be influential as well. The situation with politics is very similar I’ve come to realize. Those people have so much power and control over the issues in this country, and can really hold sway over one outcome or another. And these ‘outcomes,’ for many could be the difference between a healthy life and an unhealthy live. Or simply life or death. We must learn to educate ourselves in politics, particularly when it comes to the coming elections. It does make a difference who ends up in that office, and we do have a say. The past few elections had so few from our generation that the outcome was really decided by a relatively small number. This brings me to the series of thoughts I’ve been having today. There are many Christians who cannot understand, let alone support a Democratic candidate, let alone why other Christians may. But since when was God a Republican or a Democrat? In my opinion the informed position would be one closer to center anyhow, but that is neither here nor there. There are also many Christians (and I used to be one of them) who vote solely based on the abortion issue. Saying that voting for anyone other than the candidate with the strongest stance against abortion is murder. The problem is that abortions will continue whether they are legal or not, and if it is not, they will be in much more dangerous and unsanitary ways. Beyond that, who says that abortion is the only issue involving ‘murder,’ and potential loss of beautiful life or otherwise? There are many who cannot afford healthcare and who are thrust into a pit of debt by their medical bills, or the many others who simply don’t get treatment – some who don’t even try. And what of creating an environment that will last us as long as possible for future generations? And many other countless issues involving human life and its quality. Here is another thought: just because someone is a more ‘outspoken’ Christian, doesn’t necessarily mean they are truly a Christian, or that they will truly do God’s will. There are many who call themselves Christian. In closing my thoughts I would like to you leave you with one last thought: Jesus was a man of the people. The poor, the down-trodden, and the meek. He hung around with prostitutes, robbers, the lowest of the low in his society, and by inviting them to dinner he was making a great and quite blunt political statement. So who are we going to sit down to dinner with? Who will we invite to our tables in the upcoming elections and on after? Will it be all the children of God, which would be every last member or humanity the world over, yes, even the “illegals,” even the homeless that we dare not look at, speak about, or recognize? Or will it be “our people,” “our own kind,” as many say? Mike Huckabee, as much as I enjoy some of his videos and appearances on the Colbert Report, states on his website under the Immigration policy that: “I will take our country back for those who belong here. No open borders, no amnesty, no sanctuary, no false Social Security numbers, no driver’s licenses for illegals.” While I see where he is coming from, who are we to say who belongs here and who doesn’t? We shouldn’t forget that we too were all immigrants at one point or another. Should we keep people from having a better life? Should we bar people from sanctuary when it may save the very gift of their lives we say we try to uphold? I realize that we need to be aware of immigration, and I too disagree with members of other countries coming here who do not integrate into our society. That is why I prefer a stance closer to Obama’s who claims he will remove incentives to enter illegally, yet will support “a system that allows undocumented immigrants who are in good standing to pay a fine, learn English, and go to the back of the line for the opportunity to become citizens.” Remember in parting from this message, this ‘note,’ of mine that I do not wish to put down one candidate and uphold another, to push my views on you, or to give the impression that I have all of the knowledge when it comes to politics, the candidates, and Christianity. Truly I say to you that I am far from it! I just wished to exteriorize and to share my thoughts and feelings with you, and maybe it will allow for some chat, some discussions, and for each of us to reflect and think about things in new and different ways. To challenge our previous thoughts and to really come to a realization of what and who we wish to stand behind. Thanks for reading my note, and take care ☺

• Independence
  by KimHawke

  My first apartment: The thought of it should bring back great memories, but my first stroke of independence was more of a scratch. / ...

  My first apartment: The thought of it should bring back great memories, but my first stroke of independence was more of a scratch. / I became roommates with Tenille my second year in high school after emancipating myself. Tenille was a sophomore in college. We both worked at Chuck E Cheese after school. On weekends, we went to the mall and Tenille always seemed to have more in her bag than what I remember her buying. / “Oh yeah, I can’t believe you didn’t see her giving away tubes of lip gloss! You missed out, Kim,” she would say. I believed her. / One Friday night after a later shift than what Tenille had, I came home to find her on the floor with lotions, tubes of lipstick, candy, and socks all over the futon. / “Where’d all this come from?” I asked, wanting one of the pairs of socks covered in a leaf print. Tenille shrugged. I heard mumbling in the bathroom. “Who’s that?” I whispered. She shrugged again. This worried me. I went into the bathroom and opened the linen closet to find Tenille’s older sister carrying on a conversation with herself in the dark. / “Hi, Kim!” she said after a few seconds of glazed eye contact. / “Hi, Nora. Um, why don’t you come into the living room and help Tenille figure out where all of that stuff came from,” I said, pulling her arm. She resisted. / “No. I’m talking to my grandfather. And besides, she doesn’t need help finding out where it came from.” Her black hair in the darkness of the closet made her look like the girl from The Ring. / “Really? So where’d she get it?” I asked. / “She stole it,” Nora said, closing the closet door. I left the bathroom and went back to where Tenille was. She was organizing everything buy how expensive it was. / “Does a Crunch bar cost more than Bonne Bell eye shadow?” she asked. She was obsessed with Bonne Bell, and had a whole drawer filled with Lip Smackers. Now I knew where it all came from. / “I don’t know. Tenille, you’re a psycho,” I said, half-jokingly. She looked up at me with dark, narrow eyes. / “Don’t ever call me psycho,” she said. “I’m not going to end up like my family!” she hissed. Too late for Tenille and Nora. They were both crazy: one was a kleptomaniac, and the other was a schizophrenic. / “Ok-ay,” I said, turning on the TV. Everything that was on was about Las Vegas. “This is weird…” / “I am not weird,” Nora said, sitting next to me. She didn’t face the TV or me. She was turned towards the wall. / “You didn’t eat those left-overs, did you?” I asked. “Never eat at Shogun.” / “Asian food messes with your mind,” Tenille said. “I’ve been mentally constipated for about two weeks.” / “But we just ate there last night,” I said. Eventually I moved out and found somewhere else to work. I got a part-time job as for the local newspaper when I wasn’t at school. I met someone in the building who helped me move out of my old apartment. He was gay, and looking for a roommate, so I moved in with him. Tyler and I spent nights watching French movies and eating whatever we could find, since the little money we made went towards the rent. Sometimes all we would eat were some cookies that the gossip columnist kept “hidden” in a drawer in the break room. / “I have to hide these from myself!” she would cry and slap her chubby hands together in merriment over her weight. “I’m on a diet!” / “Doesn’t look like it’s working,” Tyler would whisper to me as he drank his coffee. We would laugh evilly amongst ourselves. Tyler worked full-time, so when I got to work at four and went home at eight o’clock, he had had enough of the blobby Beth and her gossip. / Tyler always had an interesting story to tell me. One day, someone had ordered canned air to clean out the computer keyboards. / “Canned air?” I said. “What’s next? Automatic vacuum cleaners?” / “Yes, canned air! And the automatic vacuum cleaner was out a few years ago. It was called the Roomba, duh!” Tyler said. “So anyway, Beth didn’t get any because I got the last one. I offered her mine, because I don’t need ‘canned air’. I can use my mouth to blow out stuff from the keyboard. It’s perfectly capable of blowing.” / “So I’ve heard.” / “You nasty bitch! Back to the story, yeesh! So I put it on her desk and a few minutes later, she slammed it on my desk and yelled, ‘I don’t want your canned air!’” / “Wow. Intense. She’s such an air-head.” / “Yeah, and you’re kinda corny. Hey! I like your hair today. It’s got that wet-and-dirty look.” / “Dirty?” / “Yeah, it’s hot.” / “Oh.” / Not every conversation with Tyler was sparkling. Sometimes when his “friend” would come over, I would hear them yelling at each other. / “I really think he’s going to break up with me soon,” Tyler said. Good! Tyler was too cute to be wasted on another man. “Maybe I should just kill myself. Then he would feel bad for even considering a break-up.” I would often leave the room when he said things like this and go into the bathroom we shared. But as quickly as the crying began, it ended. / “Kim! Dateline’s ‘To Catch A Predator’ is on!” he yelled from the living room. We mostly watched shows like this, along with Law & Order, American Idol, Saturday Night Live, and Bromwell High. We especially liked Bromwell High because the big Indian girl always said, “Bitch!” the same way I did. / I highly considered moving out again, but there would be no one to help me move out, and no where to go. I stayed with Tyler and put up with his needy personality. / “Kim, help me find my hair-straightener.” “Kim, where’s the floss?” “KIM, you did not just start your period on a Tuesday! Ugh. Off to the store again.” “Kim, this facial isn’t making my face tight enough!” He said my name so often that it stopped sounding like a real name. / “Is that boyfriend of yours coming over yet?” he asked one night while watching ‘Les Fleurs Du Poo’, a spoof movie in French. “Mine is in two minutes, and you can’t be hanging around like a sick dog.” I was beginning to hate gay men. / “He’s not my boyfriend,” I said. For quite some time, I’d been pretending Oliver was my boyfriend, but that was so Tyler wouldn’t hit on him. Oliver didn’t know. All he knew was that he was supposed to pick me up at nine in his beat-up truck. / “You’re kidding!” he gasped. “But you were such a cute couple! I mean, he wouldn’t even touch you, but you still looked good together.” / “Oh, we didn’t break up. I just…” I just realized that I trapped myself in my lies. “Told him he was never my boyfriend and that we’re only friends.” / “Great! Now I can console him.” / “Console him for what? We didn’t break up.” When Oliver showed up, Tyler was acting like a preteen girl talking to a boy she liked. Giggling. / When we decided it would be best to go on our 10th St cruise-our Friday night tradition-and leave Tyler, my roommate said, “Sorry about the break-up! I heard it was bloody.” He winked at me as if we shared a secret. It was so hot that my Frosty was bubbling, and that was weird because the whole week had been almost freezing. / I hated going to the park. After Tyler broke up with his “friend” he got to work at finding a new one. / “Oh my God, Kim! Look at that guy! He runs like a ballerina,” Tyler said. He was right. “Ugh. I should’ve gone to the gym. All of the men here are either married or pedophiles.” I was glad Tyler hadn’t dragged me to the gym. All of the men that went there were self-absorbed and/or on steroids. The guys at the park, though, were too young for my taste. / “Then why don’t you just go to a salon? The men there are at your disposal,” I said, flicking Frosty at him. / “My hair! You evil bitch!” I dumped the drink onto the table. It started to sizzle. It fascinated me, and I don’t know why. I hoped that some bratty toddler would sit in it when all that was left was a sticky mess. I spread the puddle around with my fork and felt like a baby. / “Well I guess now you have an excuse to go to a salon,” I said. I watched a group of kids run around with a dog on a leash. “No no no, don’t look at the dog like that. Beastiality is illegal.” / “Yeah, I found that out the hard way,” Tyler said. I didn’t know if he was joking or not, and that was scary. Almost as scary as when I stabbed my wall with a knife and left it there. I wasn’t scared, but my friends were. And they never forgot about it, either. / “You made me lose my mojo,” Tyler said. / “I didn’t know you had a mojo, motherfugger.” / “Ha ha. I get it. ‘Fugger,’ since that’s my last name.” / “Yes…” / “Ew! Look at that baby!” Tyler hissed, pointing to a chubby baby in a stroller. / “What? He’s cute.” / “Whatever. Babies look like fat midgets.” / “Harsh!” / “But true! Thank God I’m gay. Now I don’t have to have one of those,” Tyler said, pointing to the grinning baby. / “Well I think you’re missing out on a lot,” I said. “Couldn’t you try to be normal?” / We decided to go to Logan’s, hick heaven, and Oliver was there with his parents. They had just come from church. Oliver usually wore black shirts, ripped jeans, and a grey baseball cap, but today his hair was combed and he was wearing a dress shirt. I thought he looked like Jared Leto in “My So-Called Life”. / “Oh, look!” Tyler whispered. / “Shut up, fag! You’re thirty-two,” I said. I went over to the Smiths and greeted them. / “I see you brought your dog,” Oliver told me when Tyler suddenly ran to the bathroom. “Isn’t there a ‘no animal’ policy?” / “Ricky! Now that wasn’t very nice. And we just came from church,” Mrs. Smith said. She must’ve been wearing a lot of make-up, because I couldn’t even see the black eye made by her husband. / “Shut the hell up, Cat. Let the boy say whatever he wants,” Mr. Smith said. “Boy, fix your collar. You look like a hobo.” / “Just trying to be like you, Dad,” Oliver said. Normally, Mr. Smith would have smacked the back of Oliver’s head, but since they were in public, Mr. Smith just scowled and pointed his sausage of a finger at his son. I didn’t know if I should sit at my booth and wait for Tyler, or be polite and make small talk. / “Well, girl, are you gonna have a seat or what?” Mr. Smith asked, looking me up and down like one of those girls in the halls at school who couldn’t believe my average height compared to their shortness. Or maybe he was just one of those many perverted old men. / “Thank you.” I sat next to Oliver. / “Got a boyfriend yet?” Mr. Smith asked. / “Of course she does! Don’t you? He must be a cute one. Aw, look! She’s blushin’! Tell us, what’s his name?” Mrs. Smith asked. / “I don’t,” I said. / “Of course you do! Now tell us, what’s his name?” she asked. / “Look! The girl is blushing,” Mr. Smith said. / “Aww!” / “What’s his name?” / “Oh my gosh! He must be a keeper. Is he that lovely boy Oliver was telling us about?” / “She doesn’t have a damned boyfriend,” Oliver said. / “Hey! Don’t talk to your mother like that,” Mr. Smith said. / “Oh, Dean, it’s alright. Well, Kim, one day you and Oliver can get married and give us some grandkids. I’ve already gone stale, so I can’t have any babes of my own,” Mrs. Smith said. At this point, Oliver quickly stood up to go to the bathroom, and I really was blushing. / “Don’t go in there unless you want that fag to check you out,” Mr. Smith said. Oliver sat down again. Tyler came back. / “It’s like the waitresses are forming an Ugly Queue or something,” he said. One of the waitresses gave Tyler a dirty look as she handed Mr. Smith his change. The Smiths left, so Tyler and I sat at our own booth. “Wow. That family is homophobic.” / “They’re not afraid of gays…” I said. Tyler started flirting with the waiter. / “So… Andy. Do you have any special talents?” Tyler asked. / “Actually, I don’t know if it’s a talent, but I can sound like Chewbacca,” the waiter said, demonstrating this. / “Super! That was almost as intoxicating as a round of ‘Guess Where This Stain Came From’,” Tyler said, obviously annoyed when the waiter didn’t pick up on his hinting. / When the waiter left, Tyler said, “that was a pain in the arsenic. Almost as bad as Drivers’ Ed.” / “Oh, come on. Just because he’s straight, you’re in a bad mood,” I said. / “Ugh. Yes, and everyone in this town is so boring.” / “Your mom wasn’t last ni…” I was joking, of course. I only said it because people always respond positively to a perverted joke about ‘yo momma’. / “Oh my God, Kim, don’t talk about my mother like that. She’s a star: My inspiration,” Tyler said. The waiter brought us our drinks. When he left, Tyler told me, “Chug your water.” I did. He filled my tumbler with his cheap beer. / “Oh, hell no, bitch,” I said, imitating a friend imitating an angry black woman. / “Come on! It’s just a taste test.” / “I’ll stick to Dr. Pepper, thank you very much.” / “You are not welcome.” / “That’s not what yo momma said,” I said. / “Kim, really!” / “Fine.” I only shut up because the snobby Winter Texans were giving me dirty looks. Lately, I’d been getting into some really weird moods. I would feel fantastic one day, then suicidal the next. Of course I never tried to kill myself, but I prayed for God to send some gorgeous man to kidnap me and take me to his island mansion filled with notebooks and pencils. / Work was a nightmare. I didn’t mix well with deadlines or people. I wished I could have a job where I didn’t talk to people all day, and I could write whatever I wanted, when I wanted. / On one of the Friday cruises around town, Oliver brought his little brother Tommy. When we were in middle school, Oliver and I used to baby-sit Tommy while the Smith parents were on a date at the Motel 6 in the Red Light District, so I knew Tommy as well as some of my best friends. / Tommy was thirteen and going through a weird stage where he was old enough to ask his dad if he could pierce his ear, but still young enough to cry when Mr. Smith told him he couldn’t. / “Thomas, do you want to be a man or a woman?” Mr. Smith had asked. / “I want to be a man.” / “Then don’t pierce your ear like a woman.” I remember the argument well. I had gone over to their house on Pigeon Cove Drive to help paint the garage when the oldest and youngest Smiths had this discussion. / On this night, though, we were going to a field in a neighboring town to shoot off fireworks. The brothers looked like twins, both laughing wickedly as they lit six Roman candles at once and put them in their pockets. I called them idiots and took them out of their pockets. Tommy’s glasses fell off as he was lighting something else, and Oliver accidentally stepped back and cracked the glasses. / “WHAT’D YOU DO THAT FOR?” Tommy yelled. They started pushing each other. I was on Cop Watch, so only shouting, “POLICE!” got them to stop fighting. I wasn’t lying, either. / Since I was living with a roommate, I wasn’t grounded. The only discipline I got was a lecture from a police officer about being careful in the dead grass with fire. Oliver wasn’t punished, but Tommy was. His dad made him take out his earring. It was ridiculous. The law was that we had to be outside city limits, and we were. We didn’t do anything wrong, but the officer must have had his donuts in a bunch, because he called the Smiths. When he asked for my dad’s phone number, I gave him Tyler’s. Tyler and I had rehearsed things like this so many times that when the cop said “your daughter,” he immediately knew what to do: his flamboyant voice turned into one of authority. My weird moods returned a few days later, and I ended up being bitchy to Tyler. / “Pick up your wigs! Man, you gay men are lazy. Aren’t you supposed to be obsessed with things like cleaning?” I yelled. Even though I wasn’t living with my mom, it looked like I was turning out like her anyway. Tyler cried and went to his room, and I apologized. We went to eat at the Olive Garden, my treat, since I felt “so bad about exploding”. I didn’t, really. It felt good, and I was rewarding myself with ten of the best breadsticks on earth. / “You are going to be so constipated, Kim. Seriously. You’re going to get fat,” Tyler said. / “Shut up, ho.” / “Fine. But it’s true.” / “I’ll never get fat. My stomach is still flat after eating ten breadsticks,” I said. / “Eight. Trust me, I saw the whole thing,” Tyler said. “You know, it’s rude to eat your bread like that. You’re supposed to break it into little pieces and eat it daintily.” I shrugged and stuffed a leaf covered in salad dressing in my mouth. / “That is so gross!” he squealed. “There’s dressing dripping off your braces and cheek!” / “Oh my God!” I mimicked. / “Hey, look at that waiter!” Tyler said. That particular waiter came over to our table. “Wow, your name is Noah? Have you ever heard the story of Noah?” / “No. I’ve had this name all my nineteen years of life, and you’re the first person to comment on it,” Noah said, obviously as much a fan of sarcasm as I. / “You’ve got a little ‘tude,” Tyler told him. / “If you’ve gotta a problem with that, go to Carino’s.” Oliver pointed out that our lives were too boring to carry on, so we decided to kill ourselves. Okay, maybe we didn’t plan that yet, but we decided to go on a secret trip to Fort Worth. He picked me up in the morning and we drove for eight hours straight, only stopping on the side of the road for him to pee. For some unknown reason, girls’ bladders seem to be able to hold more. / We reached Fort Worth by the time school was out, and started wandering the streets in search of some decent food. We spent half of our money on gas, so we settled for some pizza a street vendor was selling. Afterwards, we both had to run into the bathrooms of McDonald’s, where we should have gone in the first place. / While we were walking near the fountains in the center of the city, Tyler called. / “Where are you, whore? We were supposed to go shopping for curtains, but you haven’t even shown up at work. You’re missing out on some pretty good Beth gossip. She said that the editor got her assistant pregnant. Martinez heard, and he’s threatening to fire. Where are you?” he asked again. / “Oliver and I are in Fort Worth,” I said. / “You’re in the army?!” he yelled. “How did this happen?” / “No, Fort Worth is a city near Dallas, not an army base, I told him, not knowing if I was right or wrong. “It’s not an actual fort…” / “So… you’re not in the army?” he asked. / “No.” / “Good.” Pause. “Wait-so you’re in Dallas?! And you didn’t even think of inviting me… Very rude, Kim.” / “Yeah, Dallas. Sure. You’re supposed to be working to buy me stuff, so that’s why you’re not invited.” / “Honey, I don’t work for no one. Besides, the money is for my highlights… ugh! I’m mad at you, Kim.” / “I kind of got that.” / “Hey-are there any cute ones up there?” Tyler asked. / “Nah. They’re all hicks or emo,” I said. / “Ew. Can I talk to Oliver?” / “No.” / “When are you coming back?” / “Tonight. It is Tuesday.” / “Okay. Oh! Guess what? Beth also said that Heather has this weird virus where she’s vomiting up fetuses. And Heather is pregnant,” Tyler said. “Everyone’s getting pregnant today!” / “Yeah right!” I practically yelled. “But she is a ho, so I believe she’s pregnant.” / “Me, too!” Tyler whispered. / “See you later.” I hung up and Oliver and I sat next to a homeless man on a bench. He was counting the people walking by. / “Where are you two from?” he asked us. / “McAllen,” I said. / “Shouldn’t you be in school?” he asked. “Take advantage of your education while you can.” / “We didn’t have school today,” Oliver said. / “Did you say ‘McAllen’? ‘Cause it sounded like ‘Mac Allen’. You young ‘uns need to go back to school!” the man said. / Oliver and I left, found a costume shop, and spent an hour walking around the city in hippie costumes. When we decided that we had induced enough stares for a day, we drove home. Back to mediocre people and landscape. / / The toilet had been running wild lately. Tyler blamed it on me, accusing me of stuffing a maxi pad down the toilet, but I knew the real reason: Tyler’s best friend, Tiffany, a plump girl in her mid-thirties growing facial hair, had been around our apartment a lot. She was known for many bathroom atrocities like pooping on the toilet seat and putting soiled toilet paper in the basket, so it was no wonder that the toilet got stopped up once she came around. Because of her, I used six towels in the process of wiping up a mix off pee and toilet water that had erupted onto the bathroom floor because it wouldn’t flush. / One morning while she and Tyler were drinking vodka on the couch, I had to pee really badly. And I was on my period, so the toilet paper was red. It seemed like the toilet was working, but when I flushed, nothing happened. I panicked. I didn’t want anyone to see my stained toilet paper floating around, so I had to pull it out of the toilet somehow, and get it into the bottom of the trash basket. / I looked under the cabinet, but couldn’t find anything long enough. There was a toilet bowl brush, but the handle was covered in something that looked like barnacles, so I couldn’t touch that. I looked around for Tiffany’s toothbrush, but she kept it in her duffel bag in the living room. I settled for the plunger. I tried to scoop out the paper, but it clumped together, and that was it. I started trying to swish it around and get it to fly out of the bowl, onto the floor, but it just broke into tiny pieces. I decided to leave the flakes floating around in the shallow water. / Later, when Tyler went into the bathroom for a shower, I heard him yell, “Good Lord! Did someone cut their hair in the bath tub?” I exhaled, grateful he didn’t notice anything else. “And who has been plucking hairs and sticking them on the mirror?” I looked at the hairy beast next to me. She licked her beard and was too drunk to notice anything else. / Tyler came out of the bathroom. “Tiff, I hope you drive drunk tonight. It’ll teach you some bathroom etiquette, having to pee into a bag for the rest of your disgusting life.” Tiffany just burped. I went into the kitchen and found my stash of shoestring potatoes and Cookies & Cream Hershey’s bars. Tyler was inviting about thirty people over, and I didn’t want any of them to get their nasty, drunken body parts on my comfort food. / “No way, Kim! Can we use that for the party? I don’t have any snacks,” Tyler said, giving me a puppy-dog face. / “Yeah right. Go to HEB,” I said. I took my food into my room and put it in my closet after eating half of the gallon-sized can of potatoes. Tyler came in. / “Ugh. Kimmy, you’re going to break out. Let’s do facials tonight when everyone leaves,” he said. / “Stop trying to butter me up. This food is greasy enough. What do you want?” I asked. / Tyler stuck a bill in my face and said, “go to the store for me.” / “Fine.” / “Great! Okay, get some fries. But not the boring ones. I want the curly kind, ‘kay? Then get… hmm… what’re some good kinds of chips that don’t get caught between my gums and inner cheek? Get some Pringles, but low-fat.” Tyler went on and on, then wrote a list, and then I went to the grocery store. I looked at the list and saw, beside “Cheetos—TWISTED, KIM!” that he had written: “Let’s make it curly-themed! He he! I’m such a flabass.” / When checking out, the cashier gave me a weird look. / “Bad day! Bad, bad day!” she yelled. / “Oh,” I said. / “I dreamed that I was being chased by a monster. You know how you can’t see vampires in mirrors?” / “Sure…” / “Well, I could only see this monster in mirrors.” / “That’s weird,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. / “No! It was so cool! Then I turned 4D.” / “Well, a guy in a hearse checked me out.” / “That’s weird,” the cashier said. I left, and when I got back to the apartment, I saw Tyler and Tiffany, through the window, on the computer. / “What’re you doing?” I asked once inside. / “MySpace,” Tiffany said. / “Drunk-MySpacing… the next generation to drunk dialing,” Tyler told me. / “You know this, yet you keep doing it? Okay. Whatever. I ain’t yo momma. But aren’t the people you’re talking drunken to coming over in a while?” / “Uh huh.” / “Then you’re one very smart man,” I said. Tyler glared at me. “I mean woman. Of course. How could I have forgotten?” I looked for my mp3 player and turned it on. The screen said “No Music Files”. For the ninth time, my music had deleted itself. “Tahluh Fugguh!” a black girl screeched when she came into the party. “I ain’t seen you in so long, ah fogot what you smelled like!” / “Latisha! Kim, we went to high school together,” Tyler said. / “Ooh! You got yourself a little white girl roomie!” Latisha said. At school, I told my story of independence to a girl named Olivia. She sympathized and offered me a room at her house. / “Your parents would never let me,” I said. / “Oh, of course they would! They would never know. My mom is in jail and my dad is always off buying drugs,” Olivia said. That wasn’t the kind of environment I would want to live in. I would rather live with a gay man than with a girl who wears a shirt that read “rape me” every Friday. So that’s what I did, until the end of my junior year when my parents begged me to come back, offering a used Mercedes. Tyler was appalled that I’d chosen a car over him, a sexy beast.

• Independent photography
  by Keeton Gale

  I have been a photographer for some of the local advents. I would be just taking photos and then next they would want the photos. So I’ve…

  I have been a photographer for some of the local advents. I would be just taking photos and then next they would want the photos. So I’ve taken photos of Portland Sates firsts hockey season,University of Portland baseball and volleyball photos for McNary High School.