06/06/00 (cont'd)
"...still through the sunlit days I wait, you ask me to track a ghost through the fog...the sun is burning me..."
Because Madame Marie is all into this astrology thing, I looked up a couple sites on the web and didn't find a hell of a lot that didn't require giving up my credit card number. Uh, no thanks. But there were a couple of decent ones that allowed me to read everything about myself that my witch friend, E, told me years ago. (Here, Marie, this is for you...) Astrology OnLine wasn't bad, and there's always the Metalog for more info...however, if you want to talk to one of the best (in my humble opinion) and coolest in person, I recommend you call His Most Righteousness, Quan Tracy Cherry...he rocks...
I went home for lunch (and yes, I hugged my dogs) and all the way back...all these fragmented thoughts going through my head...I always try to keep these entries as "structured" as I can because I believe there really is a way to better convey a message that may present itself to the messenger as just a blurb or a random thought. But hey, I was born a writer, I dabble in words the way most people work in watercolours or clay... But I'm having trouble today in accurately portraying what is going on inside my head right now.
Suffice to say...I'm a scorpio. And how. All the awful things you read about the dreaded zodiac sign ring absolutely true to my ears. Once, the roommate of some Air Force flyboy I was screwing asked me what my sign was, and when I told him, he said, "so that means you're either a bitch or a slut." I smiled and said "or both."
Astrology OnLine had very intriguing things to say about scorpios. The sex part really hit home 100%. All of the intensity of that description, that's been exactly what I've been experiencing for so long. They were totally off about what they said about Leos really digging it in the sack. Unless, of course, Megan is just one of those random freak Leos who would rather die than be touched.
Which is why I so often miss men. Maybe they don't get the intensity from the act that I do, but dammit, at least it's easy to get them into bed--I can make up the rest.
"...well, you live by the light of the moon, I live by the light of desire...just how many people are there with you now?"
I want to be adored. Along with that, I want to be feared. Okay, not feared like the bumbling sheriff's deputy is a-feared of the boogey man, but...I want to carve a place in someone's soul that they can never fill with anyone or anything else. In that sense, it's not to be feared that I necessarily want...it's to haunt.
I am a narcissistic bitch.
And I'm not sorry.
"...if you were wiser, you would get out..."
It's really a damn shame that all of the male friends I have that would maybe be willing to indulge in a little recreational sex are all totally, FRIGHTFULLY gay--most of them have never so much as kissed a girl. Sissies. Although C did tell me last summer that, if approached by the right chick, he might be willing at this point in his sexless life to try just about anything once. But that, I fear, would just be icky. My days of deflowering are long over.
Alas, if I can't have sex, I'll have to settle for the next best thing (at my age)...junk food, cigarettes, a good bottle of red wine, and my old friend, "Buzz"...
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