shadowedge613 | (no subject)

So there is this thing that I do, where, in the middle of typing up a response to someone or something I will look at what I have written, and not bother to post it. and other times the press of life is such that I cannot bring myself to compress it all down into words. So I'm not going to try to hard to talk about Rocky Horror (which magically came together into an awesome show) or Fetish Ball, (which rocked New College's Socks off in the best possible way,) or anything else that has happened in the last couple of weeks, because I am exhuasted from it all, and trying to record it may be more trouble than it is worth. so from now on I'm going back to my fromat of posting what I feel like, when I feel like.

For example:

My father has a habit of sending me newspaper clippings, which may not have anything to do with anything, except that they made him think of me. For example:
a clipping from the Nation, about Alcartez, which he knows that I went and saw with my sister when I was in the bay area a few years ago. But all it has is a circle around the word "Alcatraz" in blue pen, and "Claire's !" in the same with the scribble that Dad pretends is his signature in the upper corner. I am at the same time, heartwarmed and confused.