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27 May 2009 @ 11:52 am
I am so proud to be a huge fan of someone so fantastic.

Libba Bray (author of the Gemma Doyle series [which everyone should read]) wrote something beautiful about Proposition 8 in her journal. It can be read here: libba-bray.livejournal.com/48582.html

I've been feeling so sad about the whole thing today. It's really getting to me. I am ashamed of my country. I've never loved it. I have never, ever been proud to be an American. But it's just so much harder than it was before, now. I can't feel okay, not when horrible people like rapists and murderers are given basic rights and we're not. I am basically being told, and people like me are being told, that we are less than those people who don't even deserve to be alive. And it's all because of a book that I feel shouldn't even be held so high like it is. People should not have their rights taken away, should not fight for them and be sometimes KILLED, because of a fucking book. I don't have a problem with people being religious - until it hurts someone. But it usually does, whether it's someone like me or a poor girl just wanting an abortion because she doesn't feel ready or able to take care of a child. Please don't get me wrong, though... I know there are plenty of religious people who are really great and accepting. It's not those people that I'm upset with.

I'm proud to be a lesbian, and I won't ever feel ashamed now that I've grown into this and myself. But I am still feeling really bad about everything surrounding who I am. No, I don't wish to be different. I just wish things were easier. I hate that we have this battle ahead of us, and this wondering if we will ever win it, just because of who we are. So many of us are compassionate, loving, kind people.

Current Mood: sadsad
24 June 2007 @ 12:04 am

    Did I wound you, mutilate. Take away your voice. Did I cut something from you. Leave you locked in silence?

    This is what you do: you sing. Every part of you. Your locks of hair sing sing, your eyes, your hands, your smile. If I listen closely I can even hear your blood.

    Was I the one that took that away?

    Go down to the water where we used to swim. Stand under the sky at dawn when the sky is streaked with blood. Open your mouth and shout our secret to the waves. The ocean will be your voice. You won't have to carry anything alone. Little Sister, my Spring. April. Little Nightingale. Stand at the edge of the water. Your voice will come back to you. Maybe. If I am silent.

The Rain Is Coming

    Little Sister, the night broke. The thunder cracked my brain finally. The rain is coming, I promise you. I didn't mean to but your tears will bring life back. Purple flowers grow, the color blood looks in veins. They'll sprout out of my chest. I promise you they'll crack the ground, grow over the freeways, down the slopes to the sea. I'll be in their faces. I'll be in the waves, coming down on you from the sky. I'll be inside the one who holds you.

    And then I won't be.

             an excerpt from Wasteland, by Francesca Lia Block

[There were big windows overlooking the garden. I opened them and smelled the jasmine and the wet earth. There was a little warm breeze and the garden tinkled and chimed like stars falling. I called you. I wanted a refill on my wine. I wanted to give you the jasmine and the wind chime stars.
    I'm sorry.]
03 March 2007 @ 01:17 am
Life Savers, Lemondrops

You make the world so much sweeter
Sweet, sweet with your expansive eyes
and sweet with your smile, your smile
Your lips are pouting and ruby and
waiting for mine and
y o u  t a s t e  s u g a r c o a t e d

You make the world so much sweeter,
but mother always told me that
I eat too much sugar
I refuse to eat anything but sweets --
Chocolates and candies with fruit flavor
I want to eat until I am full
but the candy always runs out
before bedtime

You make the world so much sweeter
but I am no longer skeletal and
my skin is inflamed and unsightly
My teeth are rotting away
with cavities
and the pain is excruciating
And looking back on it all,
I should have listened to mother