The All American Foot Race

In an extreme surprise turn of events, my life will be on full speed ahead, untill next Friday, when my ass is seated on the plane, and we are airborne. Then, then will I be able to come up for air.

My new swimsuits from underqueer arrived, fit, and are snazzy. Of course I'll have to do 500 situps and not eat for the next week, to be able to pull them off, ah the sacrifices we make for fashion.

I had this dream of shopping at Vintage Vouge (a vintage clothing store in La Crosse), and staying at this laundramat apartment. It was raining outside. Bob and Joe were there, and they were being "sucked" into a cave, by diving off of a cliff, to mine (?). I picked up a pile of shit at the vintage clothing store: hats, outfits, pottery, and legos, and then was trying to make it back to work on time, with a 7 hour time change. It was BIZZARE.

Digging up the past

Since seeing Karla on Thrusday, I've been slightly obscessed about the memories of that period in 1994, when I thought my world was crashing around me.

I tend to put periods of my life in categories: The viterbo years, the Kara period, the theatre camp experience.

The later, was an accumulation of events that blew up in my face. The cliff note version involves a car accident, lies, a suicide attempt and "the letter". My first act of contrition, was to relay the story in journal form to my English teacher, Schobe. My second act, involved using the experience, in essay form for my Enlgish teacher, Grant Smith-in college. The result was a collaborative project which won me two awards for best essay, over the years. I'll need to dig that essay out of hiding.

I havn't thought about that period in DECADES. I wouldn't say I supressed that period because of emotional ties, I believe I just made my peace with it-and frankly there have been other experiences that just took center stage.

Yes, 1994 was a difficult year. I survived. I'm still among the land of the living, and that is what counts....