SOME ONE SEND ME A GIFT, DAMN IT!And why is everyone giving me a ten?!I'm a BUSTED TROLL.I have piercings and tattoos. I like grapenuts and poetry.In kindergarten I wanted to be a "fire dog."I don't like cleaning up cat poopand I like myspace so go to mine:http://www.myspace.com/crowleyfairieTWO BIG EYESTHAT OPEN AND SHUTPAINTED ON SMILEHEAD FULL OF SAWDUSTTo be bi is to be open to the erotic, but also to evade being put into a box. Society loves to compartmentalise people, control sexuality, tie it up in neat legal packages. Bisexuality is untidy, libertarian. It is unruly sexuality. -Unknown "I wonder if I’m destined to drag around the past like a discarded placenta? I wonder how far do I boil back in order to reclaim my self? I ask how many pieces did I lose along the way? Where do I find them? Can I put them back? How many times do you glue a broken vase before you toss it?”Julie Gregory from SickenedA Munchausen by proxy Memoir“Heart surgery, iodine injections, tubes shoved, slits sliced, blood drawn. These things change a kid. At the cellular level. You forget what you were like before they cut you, before they shaved you. The past drifts away; inaccessible. You only look to the future when they’ll find what’s wrong so it can be all over; the tests, the trying, the meds you swallow without knowing why.”Also by Julie Gregory in SickenedThose Winter Sunday MorningsBy Robert HaydenSundays too my father got up earlyand put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,then with cracked hands that achedfrom labor in the weekday weather madebanked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.When the rooms were warm, he'd call,and slowly I would rise and dress,fearing the chronic angers of that house,speaking indifferentlyto him, who had driven out the coldand polished my good shoes as well.What did I know, what did I knowof love's austere and lonely offices?