Every Update With A Poem
Nov. 24th, 2004 03:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
greenstormChris doesn't like this poem, but I love it so much.
There is a television, for instance; the truth
is that almost everybody,
given the choice between being loved and
watching TV,
would choose the latter.
...so good.
In other news: I went in to Womyn's Wear the other day and looked at ingredients on lubes. The one that doesn't bother me, Slippery Stuff has three ingredients compared to the five or more on all other lubes including astroglide. No glycerine either, but I don't think that's it. I also tried something called Liquid Silk (?) courtesy of Troy and Nina which was pretty cool -- it didn't dry sticky, and didn't bother me. So I guess I have two good lube brands now.
While there, we found that American condom companies had been audited, and a bunch of them shut down until they could find a way to include proper use instructions on their bulk condoms, as there's a law in the states that says you can't sell condoms without that info. Because they're shut down, Womyn's Wear isn't getting their bulk condoms despite the fact that 1) there's no law of that sort in Canada and 2) they provide an instruction sheet with the bulk ones if you like. Somewhat annoying, but it means a bit of a condom variety period. Minus side: condom lubes seem to hit me especially bad. Bah.
Also went to Fetwear, I think I mentioned this down there somewhere? Need to reiterate that rubber clothing is cool.
It's wintertime, so I'm making up a gargantuan pot of bean/bacon/miso/cabbage soup. I, um probably overestimated quantity. There will be multiple gallons.
My boyfriend thinks my brother is 'cute'. "What kind of cute?" "Um.... *uncomfortable look*" "Oh. Um. He is pretty cool... cooler than I am, I think." "I'm not going to date him." "Yeah, I hope not."
It's good to know. My brother deserves to be 'cute'.
Hm. Sex info just rolling right along here. I'm having another fertile period -- I'm curious to see whether this settles into a monthly cycle when I get monthly cycles back. My breasts are really big and quite sore, I can think of nothing but sex, and I think I'm giving off pheromones, etc. Last time this happened it lasted for a couple of days, and it's pretty cool all 'round-- long enough to enjoy, not long enough to be annoying, and then it stops for long enough that it's fresh and exciting again when it comes up.
Date with the Juggler tonight, we're going to try finishing my shelves.
Oh, I was walking down a back alley the other night when I found a small dog-carrier cage in the garbage, intact, worth $40 as is. It's gonna make a good transportable home for the girlies -- it's big enough for them to stay in it for a week or so if they come out to get exercise. Very cool.
Also: one week till the Chia roleplay marathon. This will be my first that I'm trying to participate fully in. Wheeeee.
Now, the poem:
He Attempts to Love His Neighbours
Alden Nowlan
My neighbours do not wish to be loved.
They have made it clear that they prefer to
go peacefully
about their business and want me to do the same.
This ought not to surprise me as it does;
I ought to know by now that most people have a
hundred things
they would rather do than have me love them.
There is a television, for instance; the truth
is that almost everybody,
given the choice between being loved and
watching TV,
would choose the latter. Love interrupts
dinner,
interferes with mowing the lawn, washing
the car,
or walking the dog. Love is a telephone
ringing or a doorbell
waking you moments after you've finally
succeeded in getting to sleep.
So we must be careful, those of us who were
born with
the wrong number of fingers or the gift
of loving; we must do our best to behave
like normal members of society and not make
nuisances
of ourselves; otherwise it could go hard
with us.
It is better to bite back your tears,
swallow your laughter,
and learn to fake the mildly self-deprecating
titter
favored by the bourgeoisie
than to be left entirely alone, as you will be,
if your disconformity embarrasses
your neighbours; I wish I didn't keep forgetting.
~ from "Selected Poems" (House of Anansi Press)
There is a television, for instance; the truth
is that almost everybody,
given the choice between being loved and
watching TV,
would choose the latter.
...so good.
In other news: I went in to Womyn's Wear the other day and looked at ingredients on lubes. The one that doesn't bother me, Slippery Stuff has three ingredients compared to the five or more on all other lubes including astroglide. No glycerine either, but I don't think that's it. I also tried something called Liquid Silk (?) courtesy of Troy and Nina which was pretty cool -- it didn't dry sticky, and didn't bother me. So I guess I have two good lube brands now.
While there, we found that American condom companies had been audited, and a bunch of them shut down until they could find a way to include proper use instructions on their bulk condoms, as there's a law in the states that says you can't sell condoms without that info. Because they're shut down, Womyn's Wear isn't getting their bulk condoms despite the fact that 1) there's no law of that sort in Canada and 2) they provide an instruction sheet with the bulk ones if you like. Somewhat annoying, but it means a bit of a condom variety period. Minus side: condom lubes seem to hit me especially bad. Bah.
Also went to Fetwear, I think I mentioned this down there somewhere? Need to reiterate that rubber clothing is cool.
It's wintertime, so I'm making up a gargantuan pot of bean/bacon/miso/cabbage soup. I, um probably overestimated quantity. There will be multiple gallons.
My boyfriend thinks my brother is 'cute'. "What kind of cute?" "Um.... *uncomfortable look*" "Oh. Um. He is pretty cool... cooler than I am, I think." "I'm not going to date him." "Yeah, I hope not."
It's good to know. My brother deserves to be 'cute'.
Hm. Sex info just rolling right along here. I'm having another fertile period -- I'm curious to see whether this settles into a monthly cycle when I get monthly cycles back. My breasts are really big and quite sore, I can think of nothing but sex, and I think I'm giving off pheromones, etc. Last time this happened it lasted for a couple of days, and it's pretty cool all 'round-- long enough to enjoy, not long enough to be annoying, and then it stops for long enough that it's fresh and exciting again when it comes up.
Date with the Juggler tonight, we're going to try finishing my shelves.
Oh, I was walking down a back alley the other night when I found a small dog-carrier cage in the garbage, intact, worth $40 as is. It's gonna make a good transportable home for the girlies -- it's big enough for them to stay in it for a week or so if they come out to get exercise. Very cool.
Also: one week till the Chia roleplay marathon. This will be my first that I'm trying to participate fully in. Wheeeee.
Now, the poem:
He Attempts to Love His Neighbours
Alden Nowlan
My neighbours do not wish to be loved.
They have made it clear that they prefer to
go peacefully
about their business and want me to do the same.
This ought not to surprise me as it does;
I ought to know by now that most people have a
hundred things
they would rather do than have me love them.
There is a television, for instance; the truth
is that almost everybody,
given the choice between being loved and
watching TV,
would choose the latter. Love interrupts
dinner,
interferes with mowing the lawn, washing
the car,
or walking the dog. Love is a telephone
ringing or a doorbell
waking you moments after you've finally
succeeded in getting to sleep.
So we must be careful, those of us who were
born with
the wrong number of fingers or the gift
of loving; we must do our best to behave
like normal members of society and not make
nuisances
of ourselves; otherwise it could go hard
with us.
It is better to bite back your tears,
swallow your laughter,
and learn to fake the mildly self-deprecating
titter
favored by the bourgeoisie
than to be left entirely alone, as you will be,
if your disconformity embarrasses
your neighbours; I wish I didn't keep forgetting.
~ from "Selected Poems" (House of Anansi Press)
