Thursday April 1, 1999

I AM SO IN LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That's it, I am moving to London!!! I was beginning to think that no guy was worth it... that there really wasn't a romantic man alive left on the planet, but I found the love of my life in London!

He's a cross between Andy and my uncle Jose, by marriage. Jose is one of the most romantic guys I have ever met, and when I was a girl and I first met him when my aunt and he were being married, he bent down and kissed my 10 year old hand.

I thought men like that only existed in fairy tales, BUT I FOUND ONE IN LONDON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He paid for half of my plane ticket and took me and Anne to see Cats and took us both out to dinner... And oh my GOD CAN HE FUCK! The first time I saw his ENORMOUS COCK I fell to my knees and thanked Jesus.

Before I left for London, I felt so loved from just talking to him on the phone... the sweet things he would say to me, how he was going to make love to me and that I was the only woman he would have ever felt this way about...

But it's not all perfect, so I must admit that this is my yearly April Fool's joke.

I did go to London with Anne, and I met a man, but he was the biggest fucking jerk I have ever met in my life.

I suppose it wasn't really fair to him... I put him through the Anne test.

If a guy shows promise, I like him to meet Anne. If he finds her attractive in any way, shape or form, I dump his ass like a load of shit.

Plus now I feel that I will never travel with Anne again as long as I live, she is such a fucking bitch. All she could do is bitch about how London sucked and how she hated our host. Little did I know that as I was taking photos of people and things around me, he would approach Anne and say shit like I shouldn't be taking photos of this that or the other.

Then Anne made the biggest mistake of her life as far as I am concerned, she told me that I didn't really have a right to take photos of people in public places, that basically I was like the paparazzi.

I won't put up with that kind of shit. I told her later when we talked about it that it hurt my feelings, and I wanted to finish with how she would never have to worry about me taking her photo again, but then she said how she saw my point of view that if you are in a public place, you basically lost your right to privacy and I can take your photo.

I'm sorry, this is how I feel. If you don't like it, then hole up like my brother, Orca, in your house the rest of your life and leave the rest of us to do whatever it is we do in the real world. Besides, it's not like I am chasing down famous people because that doesn't interest me as much as natural portraiture does. (I got lots of interesting photos of so many different children playing in a play ground.)

So, after staying with this fuck for a few days, Anne and I decided we would be much more comfortable in a hotel, so that fuck could go on living his miserable piece of shit life and Anne and I could see London at OUR leisure.

So... the day before we left for London Anne figures out that she has lost her keys. She wants to freak out about it and I am sorry, I just don't give a fuck. I figured she left them in Marie's car, and she did.

Then she was convinced once we got to my apartment that someone broke into her car while we were gone. She is such a fucking moron. Her car hadn't been started in over a week, and there is a problem with the alternator... She was all upset because "they" took $50 and her car wouldn't start.

I think she spent the money in London and she left her car unlocked because there was no broken glass anywhere and when the cops came to take a report, they were not impressed. She continued to be a cunt to me, and after dealing with her whiney fucking ass and after listening to her continually insult me directly or indirectly I said "If you continue to treat me this way, then I don't ever want to have anything to do with you again."

She kept on me and I said "Fine, I never want to have anything to do with you again." Especially when she decided to use my arm as a punching bag to expel some of her hostilities. She tried to convince me on the plane that it was all my fault my mom treated her differently then me because when I had brain surgery, Mom took her and Thomas aside and told them they couldn't be mean to me, hence the animosity.

I personally think she was just projecting her guilt on me because she treated mom like shit for the last part of her life and she would like to blame me since I was the scapegoat in the family... but I am not taking that shit anymore.

If I can get more kindness from strangers, then right now I would rather be around strangers, until my family gets straightened out. I won't have anything to do with Anne until she gets some therapy, she's got a bad dose of Clayitis and she can only be so kind and sweet for so long before she breaks out to be the fucking Nazi cunt bitch that she is.

Plus when she was sick, she treated everyone like shit and she still thinks it's cute to get hideously angry with someone and abuse them. I was proud of myself. My initial reaction was to belt the fucking bitch into next century, but I didn't plus I was the one with my back to the stairs. I also think it's cute how she slapped me on my head while we were in London. She is so endearing to my heart. She likes to think that because she had Cancer and is cured that she should be treated special until she dies, but my fucking brain causes me problems every day and usually I don't complain because there is NOTHING I CAN DO!

I haven't been this angry with her in a long time, but she is obviously allowing past resentments well up inside her and she can not control her emotions, and I will never respect her for this reason.

She's such a fucking dumb cunt. When we were leaving London, she tried to tell the driver that the non-fucking jerk that showed us around didn't even take us to Big Ben, when it was us that decided not to go because we were tired from walking all day. Just don't get me started...

I will tell you good things tomorrow...

******************************************************

So I am horse back riding in Hyde Park... Anne is rather an advanced rider so this means I got stuck with someone leading me because I "can't ride."

I have two little girls that lead my horse, one of them was doing it because I spoke to her in Russian and showed her warmth and compassion and the other one was the one that was supposed to lead me. She thought I was Russian because I spoke to Natasha* in Russian.

So I am on this Irish blood horse, of coarse to me it looks like a nag because in my ever so humble opinion the only horse more beautiful then an Arab is a thoroughbred... One month until Derby!

We decide all together that it would be a lot of fun to gallop. So the English girl gets behind me to scare my horse and Natasha was suppose to hold the lead. I don't suppose we were really thinking but that fucking horse took off, my ass was on it and I had a time staying on, especially as I watched in horror as the horse was turning its head to see where it was going. I held on tight with my knees and we ran up upon the instructor who was hatefully English and I told him it was all my fault that the horse bolted. It wasn't until last night when I was speaking to Melissa that I should have said the horse was spooked, but I was so excited because it was one of those memorable moments in life that I am not soon to forget, plus I have bruises all over my cunt.

We calm down some and giggle a lot after that and I tell Natasha that I told the instructor it was all my fault. My heart quits racing and then we join this other couple and I heard her speaking Russian earlier so I start asking her questions in Russian. The man she is with assumes I am Russian and he makes some off hand comment about me and I look at him and tell him I am American. He asks me where I am from and I tell him Louisville, conveniently leaving the "Kanfuckme" off. He tells me his wife is from louisville and then he asks me my name and I tell him.

"What relation are you to Martha Anne?"

Now you have to understand my complete bewilderment at this point. I am sitting on a horse in London, in Hyde Park and this man just asked me how I was related to my aunt. This world is too fucking small, I slowly begin to realize. "She's my aunt."

"Who's your father?"

I politely tell him because I think it's tacky to say my father is a fuck when I first meet someone, especially my aunt's best friend's husband. We continue to ride and I am still bewildered and amazed.

I tell Anne as soon as I see her that he knows Aunt Martha Anne and she so eloquently announces how sorry she is that he has the honor to know her.

I was so embarrassed and ashamed for her, and for the first time in my life I realize that I am not pretentious enough.

It's lovely moments like that that will further endear Anne to my heart forever because she has no handle on her emotions after so many years, hence this terrible Clayitis where she likes to think the world revolves around her mind.

If someone you love has cancer, I implore you to never treat them differently because then if they are cured, which happens more and more each day, and you have allowed them temper tantrums then when they are cured they are going to believe they can behave any way they wish and be exceptionally cruel to anyone at any given moment AND STILL GET AWAY WITH SUCH BEHAVIOR.

So, the asshole we were staying with took Anne's silence to mean that she was such a good woman and I knew if he was stupid enough to fall for her act he would believe anything. She was so uncomfortable around him and as we were watching Cats, all I could think about was how much I wanted to commit suicide.

Now I don't really write about how often I get suicidal thoughts that cross my mind because I don't want a bunch of freaky e-mails saying "No!!!! Don't do it... blah blah blah." So please extend me the courtesy not to send me such e-mails.

I have finally deduced that when I am thinking such thoughts that I am involved in a situation in which I feel utterly helpless. Besides, I would never insult my grandmother in such a manner and when I feel this bad, I usually go see Colin and feel like everything is right in the world.

So we are watching Cats and I have this asshole to the right of me and my cuntess sister on the left of me and I am dead dog tired. I want to die and Anne goes down and gets herself a water and didn't ask me if I wanted one. At this moment, when I am coughing up a storm, my throat is sore from being sick, my cunt is bruised from riding I realize that my sister is a person I really don't want to have anything to do with because she is not as kind or considerate as I am... and I really don't have to take her abuse any longer.

I asked Melissa why I kept trying and she thinks I have given her too many chances, and now I am beginning to believe she is right. Melissa hasn't ever done anything so hateful to me ever, and she has major potential. She could hurt me more then anyone and I think it's this fear that keeps me good to her so she isn't mean to me. Besides, she's the only person I feel like I have some what of a kinship with anymore. I suppose as an adult you seek people that are more like you and who aren't vicious and don't try to manipulate you to do what ever they want you to do. Besides, she's the only person I feel like I can talk to about my problems and she doesn't try to make her life out to be worse then mine, there is a nice balance there, and I really appreciate her for raising Colin on her own.

She also has a critical mind and she never says anything too harmful unless she is trying to get me to understand something. I told her last night I am extremely possessive of her. I hear her talk about other people, but I know in my heart that she loves me as much as I love her and she talks to them so she can come back to me and we can evaluate our lives off of the way other people live theirs.

Maybe it's a sickness, but I don't really give a fuck. Whatever gets me out of bed in the morning, you know?

Then when I was done there, I came over to Andy's. Sometimes I just need his love because I don't think a man on this planet could ever love me more then him, or if there is one it's going to take quite sometime for me to find him.

*Her name has been changed because she is the under age daughter of a "detective" in St. Petersburg... aka her dad is a boss man.

Monday April 5, 1999

Don't get me wrong... I fucking loved London. I think of it as I do Paris, only more like a village. I escaped from Anne and her tyrannical ways the night before we were to come home and I sat down and ate a pleasurable meal in The Compton Cafe or something to that effect. It was the only place open after 11 and I was in Fag Hag heaven, but not like when I went to the fag cafe with Zack and Syndy and Colleen when were were in San Francisco.

I met this Dutch couple, a fag and his hag and it was so fucking cool . I enjoyed their company as much as my California Chicken wrap and potatoes with tomatoes.

It was also really fucking weird to see how much of my culture comes from being English. It's like an inherited disease that never is cured. I know I have an imperialistic attitude about some things, and I try to temper it, but being around the English made it almost unbearable. I found myself laughing at jokes I would never allow myself to in this ultra conservative PC society, and understanding my imperialistic attitude a little more deeply.

But then I think of how that fucking village still is mad that we told them to fuck off so many fucking centuries ago, they just need to get over that shit.

So as we all know yesterday was Easter and for some fucked up reason, I decided to go to Church with my grandparents. I just remembered what it was like for me to go to church every Sunday when I was 14. There was not much else to do in Danville but be filled with the inspirational words of the Lord.

And then I was reminded why I have nothing in common with these people.

Spirituality is something you feel in your heart, and you can't expect to live by someone else's rules, you just either feel when something is wrong and something is different and you aren't so judgmental. I try to stay that way, but it's impossible to always hold out hope for everyone. I finally realized this with Anne and I suppose everyone else in my family. I don't feel as connected to them as they would like me to and it's just the way it has to be right now.

I ran into Brent, a really sweet guy that dated my white trash whore sister in law, the other night and asked him what his family acted like after his mom died from breast cancer, and he said it gets this way. I haven't seen him in a while and he looks very healthy and calm.

I was at Sparks last night. It's kind of a dump now. Only one of the three women's toilets works properly. But I danced some and explained our culture to Grisha some. He explained more to me about Russian culture and explained some of the phrases they use to say stuff like "cleaned my cobwebs" for a guy.

It's so funny. Elena and I were sitting here trying to translate a letter together. I don't understand how anyone can possibly think they can be so fluent in a language if they just write it because there is so much more to a language. There is so much more that you can feel in certain phrases that are sometimes more obscure then even typical Russians or Americans for that matter can understand.

Remember watching Airplane when these dudes were speaking Jive and this old white cunt knew how to talk to them? There are certain things I just know I have no earthly concept of, and this is my country. Europeans like to imagine that for some reason, the states are divided like their countries are, but we are all pretty much united for the same cause, and that's to keep America what it is... sitting on the fragile belief that we can stay isolated from world events.

Our government likes to keep us stupid so we will behave. For the most part it works because if you watch marvels such as Jerry Springer you can see for yourself just how far Americans are willing to go to make people feel for them.

So... Granny told me how she feels about me keeping my diary on the web, but what I can't get her to understand that I don't think anyone can really emotionally hurt me (unless I allow it) because I have been so hurt by my family, that I don't believe it's a fundamental thing for humans to really hurt one another, at least not the way my mom and dad did.

I got into an argument with Elena yesterday about something we strongly disagreed on and it was the first time I expressed my anger with someone to their face without them going ballistic. I just can't help feeling that showing that kind of emotion to anyone is bad because I can read so much from someone that is angry, or harbors such resentment in their heart they have to project it on to other people. This is something my father did to me and I am so familiar with this pattern of thinking that to show my anger in a healthy way is a very encouraging thing. I am not so scared that I will have to please everyone so much now.

It's easier thinking on the edge for me. I wish that I could calm down into something more stable, but I think it's impossible at this point in my life, I like everything so chaotic, I am such a queen. I must have been gay in a past life because I don't know anyone that talks about sex as much as I do. I think Jacinta's room mate now might try to talk about sex, but she isn't nearly the perv I am but still, I have certain rules that I go by to see if I can feel the same about certain issues.

Most guys don't do it so well, but the occasional one can. I think this part about me, the part I try to protect manifests in other ways. It's really like you can never keep who you are really protected from the outside as much as you would like to think you do.

The weather is so amazing here now. Like summer. The other day... Saturday, I went to Danville to spend time with my grandparents. I really should do a site with Granny's sewing tips, the main one is interfacing, use lots of interfacing. I wish I could be as talented as she when it comes to sewing, but I don't think I have the patience.

I told Granny that it was funny to see me... I was watching a video of me that Roman took while I was trying to photograph this statue in Kiev and I keep looking at it from every angle trying to figure out how I want it to look and then I take the photo. Well, I remember looking at the statue as I was taking the photo, but seeing the video of me taking the photo makes me laugh because I have that photographer's gleam in my eye and I am concentrating on nothing but the photo...

So they tried to ask us what our favorite Easter memory was in Sunday school. I can't believe I am typing that from my fingers. And to make matters worse to know that I was in a Southern Baptist Church just adds that extra special touch. Mom wanted us to be raised as Episcopalian, and thanks, I think all religions suck because I am Buddha, I am Jesus, I am the devil, I am Plato, I am my father, my mother, myself. I am everything and I have all these philosophies in my mind not to intentionally hurt someone because it's Karamic hell. I could really give a fuck about the rest of the shit involved with religion because it doesn't stress the importance of understanding yourself, and let's face it, I am the most perfect Catherine Elizabeth Clay on the planet, at least by my standards.

Anyways, I finally began to understand that not dealing with something versus letting it cut me to the bone is what most people do to distance themselves from the pain. I have learned that sometimes it's just easier not to deal with the aggravation.

I also decided that I am sick of fucking guys where there is not going to be some kind of caring going on. I had this one hick the other night and I thought I was going to die, I hate being a masochist to anyone, but then the phrase "grab 'em by the balls" finally was understood. That's why men were equipped with nuts, so if they are hurting you and they ignore it all you have to do is reach down and yank so they understand what the fuck is happening in your body. And I know this may be hard to believe, but I am a girl and I can't stand even the thought of anal sex. I wish I could but I just know that it would hurt a whole lot and I think it's one of the most degrading things to ask a woman to do. It's a total power thing. I wouldn't let this fucking hick in my ass and I am really funny about fucking, if I tell you no more then once, then you need to understand I FUCKING MEAN NO.

I understood how my old upstairs room mate could quit in the middle of having sex now, so I don't think I will ever fuck another stupid asshole like that again. I pity the woman that is stuck in the situation where a man makes her feel like she has to do what ever the hell he wants. I have met some women married to men somehow and they think that just because they are so fucking unhappy that they deserve to be treated like shit. There is such a think as human rights especially for women. We are not possessions for men to control, and I think there are some countries that will just never understand that.

Fuck them. I also am a large proponent of the phrase Ignorance is Bliss. Sure Feminism isn't the greatest ideal of the way women should model their behavior, but we aren't toys, either. If you aren't a woman, your would be surprised how this attitude still prevails in our culture.

Maybe I am just too sensitive to such things, but if I am not, then who is? Are people just ignoring the shit shoved down their throat? I think Americans must because why don't we band together and tell the fuckers at the UN to butt out of Kosovo? Why can't I walk down the streets of Downtown, Louisville, and see people outraged like I did in London a week ago?

One of my favorite things to do is to drive across the Ohio River and look at the city of Louisville as it stands today and realize what a tiny fucking city it is. I think of Moscow... Amsterdam, even fucking Cincinnati... and we are so itty bitty. Every once in a while there is a new testament to our greatness as a city, but it's usually Derby that makes us special.

Vencor was suppose to build a big cunt of a building up, but they aren't making enough money now to proceed. Seems to be the biggest problem here, misappropriation of funds. A lot of people embezzle from their companies. You hear all kinds of things here.

I made a buddy a tape of great songs to help get through a break up. They are songs that mean a lot to me since mom died. Here's a list of some of them:

• Dee Lite, What is Love?
• Pulp, the Fear
• Komeda, Cul de Sac
• Foo Fighters, Everlong
• Arlo Guthrie, The City of New Orleans
• Aphex Twin, girl/boy song
• Nine Inch Nails, Gave up
• Tricky, Can't hardly breathe
• Heart, Magic Man
• Vercua Salt, Earthcrosser
• Guess Who, American Woman
• Natalie Imbruglia, Torn
• Fiona Apple, Shadowboxer

These songs really fucking rock. Not all American, either. Not all from this decade, a nice combination. I hope it makes him feel better because he's really fucking cool and he shouldn't let any chick make him feel bad about being wonderful.

I know you probably think I am a mass of contradictions, but I can't help my sister understand anything because she doesn't want to. I think I pretty much accepted that she was willing to fill her head with shit as the rest of this society does to make her feel bad about herself so she wants to make me feel equally as bad about myself, and I just refuse. I am sick of living my life by other people's standards...

But I am also in conflict with my own. I was talking to Kelly when I was in California and I was like "I want to be like my mom, she was SUPERWOMAN, she could do EVERYTHING... blah blah blah..."

Kelly was just like, "No, she wasn't, she died."

That kind of made me jerk to attention that maybe I shouldn't be so hard on myself so much to force myself to succeed so much. I would like to have it all, the happy little life in the country and try and right my disfuckional childhood, but I just don't think I can. I kept telling my mom that I didn't want children... because I knew how much it hurt to play games with them. I didn't realize at the time that I was a little bit more developed then them mentally, but that is incidental because now I am an adult, and I need to remember to treat other people wonderfully, but not be taken advantage of at the same time.

But then there still lies the fact that my mom wasn't Superwoman, she was still human. I think Anne wanted me to feel guilty for getting sick so she could manipulate me into submission, but what she doesn't understand is I am not her mom, and I don't have to put up with her abuse. I definitely don't have to hear shit about me being sick, she was sick too and there were many times I listened to her violently explode, sometimes reacting, sometimes ignoring her. I was proud that I didn't smack her ass down the stairs when she started to attack me the other day.

She is investing her emotions into too many material goods and not working on how to relate to people. I think she is jealous of me, just ever so slightly. Psycho sibling rivalry at it's finest.

I can't help it that I don't hide myself from other people like Anne does so they can't appreciate me. She acts stupid so other's don't expect as much out of her. I tried that once, the second time I was in Russia, and it almost killed me because I hate stupid women.

Lena would think that I was so stupid because I would always ask her to repeat herself. I forgot to be stupid in front of her sister so they would be talking in Russian when I went to Italy and Lena would say shit like "Just ignore her, she's too stupid to understand what we are saying."

Her sister was so fucking cool, I wasn't afraid to be a little smart and then I think Lena understood that the year before I acted stupid so I could get away with more and it worked, but man I hated being stupid. But it was so worth it to listen to her degrade me in front of her sister and then I could look at Sveta and repeat the conversation they were having in my own words.

OK. I am tired, I have to proof and then I am going to sleep, this day was long and fulfilling, although I didn't get everything done. FUCK.

Tuesday April 6, 1999

So I was talking to this chick, and she was telling me how she got a new vibrator. There is a lot of that going on around here now. She's like the third or forth girl I know of lately going to get a vibrator, which makes me happy because you figure out more of what you like and what you don't that way.

There is a reason anal sex never really sounds appealing to me and that's because I have this scar from having a cyst removed from the wall that keeps my rectum and vagina separated. When I went in to have the surgery, the doctors assumed I had been taking it in the ass from Andy and that's where my problem came from, but that's just not the case...

It came from Depo-provera.

I do NOT endorse or even hope people consider the horrors of such devices or contraptions for women to put in their bodies. It's awful, plain and simple.

I wish the male birth control pill would hurry up and be released... funny when you think that Viagra was developed rather expediently compared to the male pill, maybe it would have adverse reactions when taken with Viagra.

I wonder if women around the world kept their legs shut for one week in protest of men not having to take the pill if it would really work on them.

I mean, we all have vibrators now for the most part... and they can come in black or white, big boy or dinky dick and the best thing about them is you can turn them off when your are done and not have to be so nice to yourself or your vibrator.

I wrote a quote in my passport. I wrote it when I was in Russia the second time and the airline guy happened to look through my passport and read it aloud. It says "my best friend is an inanimate object." I was thinking of a photo story I could use it for...

Sigh... I did find a new appreciation for the male body when I was fucking that redneck. He was rather lean and he had the little curves in his ass so as he was going in I put my thumbs at this hips and my index finger in the curve and just felt his butt muscles contract and relax. It was rather a nice sensation and made me have a new appreciation for just why it is a great ass is a great ass, any way you cut it.

I also have one appreciation for that non-fucking jerk in London. He named my cunt the Pink Panther, and I think it's rather cute, I like thinking of her being a predator and a diamond all in one. And what can I say, she is pink.

Let me make the Depo thing more clear. I was having treatments and the first couple of months it was OK, but I didn't have a period for six weeks and that scared the hell out of me. Then my period came and wouldn't stop. 6 weeks without a period, 6 weeks with one. I had some old birth control pills I hadn't taken and so I took them and made the bleeding stop. It hurt so bad.

As a matter of fact, NEVER NEVER NEVER take Depo-provera to prevent pregnancy. NEVER. Do not consider it an option, do not pass go. As I said last month MEDICINE IS TOO ARCANE TO FULLY BE EFFECTIVE FOR THE HUMAN BODY. It fucks up your chemistry and all other kinds of shit. I am trying hard not to be on too many pills anymore. I am rather proud of this feat, but it's sometimes harder on me.

Nature provides the best medicine. Walking in the park, getting away from bullshit, not being caught up in trying to compare yourself with other people... this is what I use as solace to my troubled soul...

So... the adventures of the Pink Panther... it still makes me smile. I will cherish this memory above all the others, including the bad because I still have to remember that it doesn't always work out the way it should and just because he is a jerk doesn't mean things he said weren't sweet.

Wednesday April 7, 1999

So... I am looking for a photo of myself to send someone when I was a child. What's a more endearing way to introduce yourself to someone you want to care about then by showing them a photo of you as a child?

I came across this photo of me and my little sister where we are holding kittens.

We were in Florida to pick up my aunt Betsy's Camero, Rusty. It was my father, my brother, my sister and my useless grandmother.

Dad threw us out to the pool this day without sun-block. If you can't tell, I am really fair. The day after this photo was taken my skin swelled up so the photos of us at Disney World shows me looking Asian because I was so sunburnt.

By the time we got back to Kentucky my skin was still swollen and my older sister was so pissed off at him that she called him and made him call a doctor. She hadn't spoken to him since the divorce. I don't remember it hurting so much, but I do remember my mother and Lesli's reaction when they saw my face.

I think I can now understand how it is my father came to be racist thinking back to this journey. When my father was about 8 my grandfather hired a nanny and she was black. I guess the daily grind of sitting on her ass at the garden club or playing bridge got to be too much for Grandmother Clay. I imagine that Addie showed that useless cunt's children more compassion and caring then could have ever have existed in that non-nurturing, non-caring sorry excuse for a mother. Aunt Betsy and Uncle Richie turned out to be more stable then the other kids since Addie raised them.

I also think my dad was projecting when he divorced my mother and tried to say she was an unfit mother because she sang us songs and spent time with us, unlike his mother. I think he really hates his mother for not being a mother to him and to compensate for feeling so alone and empty he took us away from our mother.

Why didn't my grandmother take care of us while we were down there? She could have put sun screen on our skin. She is the coldest woman I have ever met, totally detached from her feelings, not caring, not nurturing, not motherly in the slightest bit. How could you let your grandchildren fry in the sun. Do you just not notice? I think she just didn't care, and that she is just a stupid, rancid cunt.

You know, when you don't take a step back from your life an analyze it every once in a while then you can never fix your mistakes and you can never really feel yourself. If you don't know your parents and you can't see their mistakes then you can't know what to measure yourself by. If you don't know your family history how can you expect to grow?

We also had a black nanny when my parents were still married, before we moved to Oldham County. Before my parents were divorced.

Say that with me aloud. I had a black nanny.

This thought makes my stomach turn. Getting over the ramifications of economics and everything, it still makes me sick to think that my father was traditional enough to believe that's the way it should have been done, and my mother was stupid enough to go along with that shit.

I remember the very first time I crossed the street on my own. Juanita made me do it because I missed the bus and I had to walk to school alone. Funny how I can remember something so clearly from when I was 5, don't you think? (that's the funny thing about children, they really understand and remember better then you think they do.) Amazing now that I think about it that I can remember how that detached feeling of doing something for yourself feels because I still experience it when I am in Russia.

So... I got this entry in my guestbook the other day...

Well I did it. I got through the part of your mom's last breath. I wrote you once before, but I didn't mention my mom. My mom had just turned 55 when she was first diagnosed with cervical cancer,prognosis poor. I never knew , my mom never went in for pap smears. Last one was after my youngest brother was born. He was 31 at that time. I believe I was the only person to research and I found out that her chance of dying in 5 years was very high. So you captivated me with waiting 17 years for your mom to die. The hardest part during the dying years for the family is to try to go on with life with this huge heavy rock in your stomach. If you sit down and just cry you know it doesn't feel right. If you go out with friends it goes away for awhile, but it is always lurking, waiting to catch you off guard,so you get sucker-punched that your best friend, your mom is dying. Everyone else in the family thinks everything is fine because mom beat the first bout with chemo and radiation and now is back up and doing well. I take her to Nashville the second she is back on her feet. Mom loved country western music and she always wanted to go to Opreyland. My mom had never been to Nashville or any other place on a vacation. My husband and my Dad said go for it! There are no other girls in our family, just me. We had the best time ever! One she would not forget! We saw her favorite stars during the day perform, then at night we go to a different restaurant at the Opreyland Hotel. WE would drink all through dinner then hit the bars and night life. We were there for 4 days and 3 nights. Then of course about 6 mos. after we got back she was diagnosed again,another session of chemo, the rest of the family and even her still in denial. She did not pull out of this one , she sat in a recliner chair for one and a half years. I insisted we go back, her Dr.I don't know how I can call him that diagnosed a blood clot, told her to get a hobby, and exercise on a stationary bicycle. Six weeks later I went around her FUCKING Dr. to another, he diagnosed something major going on. After tests, she had a tumor growing on her spine and she had 6 mos. to live. I still to this day hate the fucker who told her to get a hobby. I told him off on the phone, that felt better, but I wanted that poor excuse of an asshole Drs, BALLS HUNG UP TO DRY!!!!! The family went along with me finally and let me get her out of his hands. We took her home to die. I did not want that mother fucker to ever touch her again. She was changed to 6 weeks almost immediately. I quit work, and moved in to take over for Dad, he had already been through the reactions of chemo twice on his own. I knew he could not hold up much longer. On the day I had gone home to get clean clothes I got a call from him mom was hemorrhaging big time. By the time I got there she was clawing at me for relief from the pain. He was trying to keep her up so she wouldn't seem like she was dying, so he was shorting the amount of morphine she was supposed to have. I slept with her from that point on with the guidance of hospice. MY hang up to this very day is that through the nurses they gave me the knowledge of how to keep her from pain but also help her faster through the death process, so I would keep giving her doses constantly so she wouldn't cry out, but sometimes it seemed like she was shaking her head no, that she did not want more. She was in a coma state at this point and could not talk anymore. But here was my beautiful mother, looking like a Jewish war camp victim. Her toe was falling off because of no circulation, and they wanted us to also give her morphine pills rectally since she could no longer swallow. My mom hated rectal exams and always screamed when they gave them to her, even though she would joke with the different interns beforehand how big that finger was of his or hers before they shoved it up her ass. That was always my moms humor until she couldn't talk anymore. I know I killed her, she died from respritory arrest: OD'D ON MORPHINE. i KNOW i AM NOT A CRIMINAL but I still wonder did she want to be conscience a little longer. I'll never know, and I still try to live with it. It has been 4 years now but the intensity of those last days still haunt me. I knew the moment she was going to die therefore every one was in the room, we soothed her and told her it was all right to go now, we would be okay, she didn't have to suffer anymore, but she held on because my dad wouldn't come in, we convinced him she was waiting for him,and sure enough as soon as he held her hand and talked to her she let go, one big sigh,then quiet, then one last smaller sigh. I am sorry Cathy I guess I've been holding that in to long.

This is real horror, folks. Welcome to a tiny slice of hell. You never know how to feel because you are always afraid... you live your life hard, trying to accomplish life, taking the time to stop and smell the roses but being absent minded enough not to feel the way it smells.

Of all the things I know to be true, I know what a temporary condition life really is. If you are unhappy doing whatever you are doing, in your job, in your personal life, then take some time for yourself every once in a while so you can be better to others. If you don't feel good about yourself, then it's really hard for anyone else to.

I felt so much for her as I read this story. I blubbered and laughed because I know what she went through. I often wondered if I could have helped my mom through this passage by giving her more dope to die. I did not have to go through that torture. I wrote about it a while ago, and how about a year before mom got a lot worse she had gotten these kittens from the shelter and they were not fully weaned, but just barely 3 weeks old. I wanted to reach down and snap the kitten's neck, to end it's suffering but I just could not do it.

It also hits home the point that you should NEVER NEVER NEVER trust one doctor's opinion, they aren't gods, you know, no matter how much they try to make you believe they are. There's a reason the phrase second opinion exists in this language.

I feel for you, Nisha. I know how much it hurts and how just every once in a while, you let a little bit of the agony seep out, but not too much because you don't want it to consume you.

I am going to take a nap now... it's a bright and sunny day and I just want to feel the warmth of the sun as it still hits my bed.

***********************************************************

You know, every once in a while, we all need a good bitch slap back into submission.

Thomas, no one gives a fuck about you. Get over it and move on with your life.

Or maybe, just maybe, if you scream loud enough at mom's grave, like you did when she was alive, maybe, just maybe she can hear you... but I sincerely doubt it,

she's dead.

Friday April 9, 1999

Melissa and me on her thirtieth birthday.

Monday April 12, 1999

When I start to feel like I am overwhelmed with everything, I just remember that the sun rises in the morning and sets at night and that these contrived conflicts I seem to invent for myself are just that.

After much research this weekend, a very crazy, insane weekend filled with all kinds of events I have discovered the real honest difference between making love and fucking and enjoying my body with someone else that enjoys it as much as I do. I also know how the different orgasms, clitorial and g-spot come together to make you have a more intense orgasm.

I also figured out that men and women really do speak differently to one another, and that women are raised to speak to men but men... don't listen well enough to understand female.

I have found someone that does in what would seem more like a freak accident and it's hard to think that all the intimacy I have craved from a man and all the passion and joy and love I can feel for one such creature in a way that he understands just floors me.

To say I am overwhelmed would be an understatement because I can't say he's blown my mind since he already fucked it away. The perceptions I have had culturally disintegrate and talking to him in ways that I can only talk to certain people in short doses has allowed me to feel more of what I have come to know myself.

His name is James and he is also a photographer. We are the same age and I don't feel like I have to justify my actions of the past to build a future filled with fractures in the foundation.

If I am uncomfortable with something, anything, I can just say something so subtly and he gets it from the start. Any bitchy, sarcastic remarks are not allowed to go freely but instead I have to claim what I have said in order for us to better understand one another, and I extend him the same courtesy.

God... I really am in love.

And it's really fucking nice to meet someone that cares so much and I can talk to so richly. It's an on-going conversation, kind of what I use to carry on with mom about, only he's not my mom.

He's more sensitive then me in some ways, which is really nice because in the ways I feel more vulnerable he can encourage that part of me to grow.

Let's see... he drove down from St. Louis after some strange e-mails to see if I was really worth it and I think we both were happily surprised by one another... at least I know I was.

So he got here on Thursday, Melissa and I went to Six Flags over Kentucky (what a fucking joke) and instead of letting him stay in my apartment while I was gone (he assured me he had his machete sharpened before he left) he went out and explored the city which totally won my heart because this means he's not going to be overtly dependent on me to finish growing up.

I came home from Six Flags exhausted and speechless. I hate the ride that takes you up really high and then drops you. I am afraid of heights anyway and I just felt like I was clawing my way into ordered chaos once again. Melissa loves the ride because she hates the being suspended in mid air. I hate it because of the fall... that old familiar feeling of being like a cat thrown out a window. I wanted to vomit when I was un-strapped but my heart was racing like a night of aerobics. It was horrible, just horrible, so we rode it again.

I came home and he came back, and I wasn't sure he would come back for any number of reasons, but he did and told me how he spent the day down by the river and then went to the park and I started to admire him more and more. There was no way that I could stay awake so I fell asleep and I woke up with him watching me, a blaze of sunlight behind his head, like a figment from my own imagination or some fairy tale.

The day before he woke me up just tracing the contours of my body with the way a feather tickles. I wasn't so sure that he would be such an amazing lover because you never know and then I saw a certain piece of his anatomy that just made me slobber like a bull mastiff.

I have never been able to articulate how important one orgasm is over another, but now I understand that when you start with a clitorial orgasm that triggers the g-spot to come out and when it's hit just the right way then you can just feel the energy pulse through your body in mini tremors.

It's interesting to understand and feel the difference... I have known most of my life what sex should feel like and held on to that belief and now I am really fucking happy I did because I have never been so emotionally and physically satisfied on so many levels.

Maybe it's too early to think of such things in such a positive way, but I don't think so. It's so easy and so painless...

OK... so his future of being a pro wrestler is rather bleak, but there is always the option of being a porn star and that's all that really matters.

Tuesday April 13, 1999

How can you possibly be in love?

Well, it's different. I think there are certain things we all know in our hearts to be true.

Hmmm... why is James so wonderful? OK, putting his huge cock aside for a moment, he is so fucking considerate and sweet and tender and sensitive in the ways I am, which is really a comfort. I know it's only been a short time, but I have never been with a man that could talk to me and let me talk about myself and not feel like I have to not tell him about a certain aspect of my personality in fear that he won't like me.

He thinks I am beautiful. He likes me the way I am and I think more of him for that reason. He is so creative. His images speak to me in a way that only other good photographer's work can and it shows just how thoughtful and careful he is when he takes a photo. His technical skills are far superior to mine and for that reason I am somewhat jealous, but I know he can teach me anything I want to know.

On an emotional level he is balanced and not domineering. The perfect metaphor so far would be like eating gay pride ice cream from Bryer's (sure there is no purple, but once the ice cream starts to melt then you can have your violet). I don't feel like I have to hide myself or my sexuality and that is a very empowering sensation because that means he accepts my sexuality as a part of me that allows me to feel more like a woman.

We talked about so many things... and talked hard in that way that you can only talk every once in a while.

He's as smart as me... and I don't have to act like a dumb cunt in order to appease his ego.

He's a truly beautiful man, and he still seems like a dream, a far off fantasy...

I cooked for him. Lasagna. I mixed some for Jacinta as well since she doesn't eat red meat. In the main mixture I had Del Monte zucchini, artichoke hearts, spinach, diced tomatoes and Ragu. I love Ragu... there is just that tang you can only get with Ragu. I would miss it while I was in Russia and then I found it and it made me happy to eat it. I sprinkled ground up cashews on some of the layers. God it is so rich and yummy.

We talked about the evolution of food. We talked about people and their lives. I listened to some of his better Jerry Springer life moments in envy.

God... intellectual, artistic, and sexual stimulation all at once. All very satisfying and very overwhelming in that special Cathy Clay kind of way... only there he was too, Mr. James Fitzgerald.

Damn I am empty. (obscure sexual reference to his huge cock).

Wednesday April 14, 1999

ZACK IS COMING HERE THIS WEEKEND!!!!!! I got him a big, big present in England, some beer that he hasn't found ANYWHERE but London (Holstein Pils in a can) so I am excited to give him that beer, and maybe drink one while watching Thunder Over Louisville.

God I have so much to do! I have to get my papers done, write a web-site, finish my state taxes...

Jacinta is amazed with my cool as a cucumber attitude.

I miss him. I miss waking up next to him. I miss him just being near me and talking with him. He's won my heart over. He does the dishes. His images are so beautiful. He knows how to talk with me. He thinks in circles and we were able to keep looping back to previous conversations without being lost.

He's better read then I am. He's got a past like that I have only read about.

He knows how his parents met.

I could still fuck other guys, but now I have no desire to.

This has been one of my greatest fears... falling in love with someone and them having the possibility to sexually dominate and control me. Even though he says he would never do that to me, I can't help but be a little intimidated.

I also can't help but feel these overwhelming sensations. I know that passion fades and all that shit, but I don't think the sex could ever get any worse, ever, and it's the best it has ever been!

I have to be dreaming, that's all there is to it.

It reminds me of the relationship I have with Zack and Melissa... it's so easy that all of a sudden 3 years have passed, then 5, then 7...

Sometimes I think I am just being overtly hopeful, and others I know he will be here with me again soon. Actually, I am not worried so much that he will be back, I know he will always be a part of my life. He just has to decide how he wants to be involved with me, and since he was the one that took the initiative, I imagine he wants to be a part of my life (or so I hope).

God Damn... he really exists. Someone that is as creative as I am, as smart as me who doesn't want to play childish games, sensitive, caring, a bit of an asshole if you get him started, charming, seductive, EXPRESSIVE...

He also understand my jokes and my jabs at cultural ideas. God I am FUCKING CRAZY for HIM!!!!

You know there are few things that make me feel like things are right in the world and he is one of them.

I have to get going...

Thursday April 15, 1999

It was so beautiful... and so organized and so very American.

I didn't finish my taxes... Lesli did, but I just got back from turning them in. It moved swiftly and to see so many people organized just for people like me (only I am getting money back) turning their taxes in. I said to the woman as I drove up "It's so beautiful. Is it always this nice?"

"Yes it is" She replied with a huge smile on her face "and it's all voluntary!"

Today has been an interesting day. Instead of working on my school work like a good girl I hung out with Jacinta. We woke up and were going to go do Tae.bo, but we went and picked up her nephew. He is so fucking beautiful. WE watched him sleep and smile and just be one of the cutest babies I have ever seen.

What impressed me the most was how Jacinta spoke with him. She kept looking at him and when he woke up from a mini nap she would say "Did an angel bump you in your dream?" I wanted so much to cry because I don't have that in my culture... and she kept speaking Spanish to him and I understood and what I didn't she explained.

So we took him back and "ran" to the post office so I could get a money order for this woman that I bought something from on Ebay. Whatever you do, never never never buy anything from Ebay, I don't care for the people and granted the lady I bought something from has been patient about getting her money she tried to make me feel guilty for forgetting and not sending it to her sooner. Well that fucking whore, why did she need a fucking POST OFFICE MONEY ORDER anyway?

I have the feeling I am going to be screwed.

Anyway, after that we went back to Jacinta's place and did Tae.bo. Man my muscles are sore. I miss being fat, that's all I have to say, but having a nicer body is well... nicer.

I had to pick Colin up from Day care so Melissa could go to traffic school and as I was going to the day care, I noticed our old house had a SOLD sign on it. I turned around and went up to the door and knocked, not really sure if anyone was home.

It was amazing how different I remembered that place. I was so little when I used to run through it. The man walked me through all the many levels and so many memories... I remember taking my first shower there when I was about 4 and Anne was with me and I turned the hot water on HOT and scalded her. Playing doctor with Lesli and Anne on the bed and having my ass pinched. He told me another woman with 2 small children had been there during Halloween and I knew it was Lesli. The man had lived there for 13 years with his partner... they had to be gay because there was this kick ass fish pond in the back and the lawn was perfectly manicured. Well the interior screamed it as well since EVERYTHING was in order... and they had already started to pack their lives away.

The floor in the den was crooked... and they expanded the kitchen and installed a skylight. I remember being forced to make macaroni on a Saturday night by myself as some sort of sadistic punishment. He loved his petty torments. Once when he must have been particularly pissed at mom and we had a bunny he made me, just me, go through and pick all the rabbit shit up as everyone watched.

Funny how my memories are cracking at the seams. Things you would never imagine a child to remember so clearly...

So... I picked Colin up and he was happy to see me. Noah was happy to see me the other day too. It was a pleasant sensation.

He was in a rather playful mood today. We had a lot of fun. Funny how you can see that an 18 month old baby can grow into itself. His personality is really starting to flourish. So I did laundry, chewed my nails, fretted over my taxes, called Lesli, Melissa came home and I went by Lesli's and finished my taxes and then was watching the news and saw all the people at the main post office so I decided I should rush off...

I got the last check I am going to see from my mother's estate. I held a wallet that was Jacinta's mothers in my hand as she went on about how it was cheap blah blah blah and I wanted to cry so hard because I can't say that. Anything my brother could destroy of hers or throw over the hill he did. I can't have one of my mother's wallets unless it's something that is already in my possession.

I didn't cry though, because it's just an earthly object she ties to her mother from the time she lived in Chicago and met her father. She told me so many stories last night. Some old some new, some more through. It was such a pleasure to just listen to her story and try to gain some insight on how she feels about things when she is describing them.

I would like to say something great and inspirational, but I am excited, scared and tired... Zack is coming with Syndy and James is driving in as well. I really can't wait for them to meet one another because I think James will totally love Zack's work.

Anyways... I am going to go drinking. I want to go to a bar with atmosphere and where there are a lot of people that I know so until next time...

Friday April 16, 1999

The sound of planes increases every year at this time. A sure sign that Derby will be here.

What am I going to do this summer? It's kind of touchy in Russia right now. Roman keeps sending me mixed signals. I told James to get his passport.

Sunday April 18, 1999

James is smoking a cigarette beside me now...

He's so fucking awesome...

He got here not long after I did on Friday. Zack was already here with Syndy and it was just too fucking awesome. We didn't have much time together and the time we did have wasn't the greatest because I was ill. I woke up puking and running.

I blessed my former days of being bulimic because I knew how to barf gracefully and still function. Graceful being that I was able to make it to the sink and not piss all over myself when I did barf.

I was weak all day, but it was a day with Zack, Syndy and James, and there was no fucking way I was going to miss spending time with some of my favorite people.

We went thrifting and Zack was a wonderful tour guide to both Syndy and James. James is from all over but now he lives in St. Louis and well, I was too busy trying to get into his pants then to show him what this city is like last weekend. Syndy is from Iowa and she "had no idea Kentucky was so beautiful."

I suppose therein lays the problem with me leaving here.

We both grew up so differently. He grew up in LA for a while and he has some interesting stories to tell that an up tight cunt such as myself has only read about or seen on TV. I supply him with stories of solidarity and he has met most of the people I grew up around so when I tell him stories...

This isn't working. I can't type and have him next to me at the same time. He's making all kinds of lewd suggestions.

Monday April 19, 1999

Have you hugged your dick today?
Did you send him on his way?
..with LOve... LOVE... luv luv luv?

He's a person just like you...
He has feelings too
So give him Love love love love love love LOOOOOVVEEEEE

James left. I am sad.

He asked me what it felt like to have him inside me. I can't really think clearly when I am in that state of mind. I just laid back and enjoyed him so very deep inside me.

Smoking a cigarette by the open window... cool air blowing the smell back into the apartment the grey sky with rain sifting from the sky. I look over at this face staring out the window, so sculptured, so beautiful so thoughtful and focused. His red beard glowing despite no real sunshine. I look over and answer "...it's like fucking a god."

I can see how sex can be so addictive when it feels so fucking perfect. When he's in me so hard and so big I feel like every single inch of my flesh is alive with pleasure. I scream. I scream loud. I make noises that are so primal I can't even make them when I am coherent. And he can last and last and last.

He keeps telling me he likes me. As a person. I don't suppose I reassure him enough that I am totally in love with everything he is and what it all means to me. He got mad at me for just staring at his cock. I can't help that I like staring at his cock. I guess I am a little cock crazy.

It's just a phase... I'll get over it.

Or is it? Have I over analyzed the whole objectification thing so that I am just as bad as a man? Or is it just that men have a very hard time dealing with the same gaze they put towards a woman?

I think men just don't deal well with being objectified. I suppose it is rather dehumanizing. Affixing certain pleasure to someone's anatomy, but I don't really care. Men have done it to women for centuries and I am just trying to work out in my own mind how to objectify and humanize at the same time so you don't have objectify empty people. You can see there are some inner workings to their minds. That is if you can see their faces or they are involved in some sort of activity.

I was wondering some time ago how the Lorena Bobbit thing would play into our culture. For those of you who don't know who Lorena Bobbit was.. Well she was married to one wild son of a bitch named John Wayne Bobbit and by God Damn if her last name didn't suit her!

After he had reconstructive surgery he did a porn to show the world just how little his dick was. It was not that impressive to begin with which further leads me to believe that only guys with big dicks should be in relationships so women are always satisfied. Call me a sexist cunt but that's some of the shit this media throws into our faces... "If you are fat, you can't possibly enjoy fucking. If your tits aren't big enough, get them enhanced 'so you can feel better about yourself.'"

Well, that's just the Cathy Clay stance. I don't really believe it because guys with little dick can really be satisfying. Take my dad. Mom always said he had a little dick and I believe her because he was so obsessed with his fucking Porsche. Guys with little dicks try to over compensate in some way by having MORE STUFF.

Actually, I think this is all really stupid and I think it's much more important to accept yourself and find people that are accepting of you.

I mean James has told me stories about how his dick is so big he couldn't even put it in some girls because it was hurting them. How can any man want to be in a relationship where their cock wasn't going to fit?

NOT ME!

Anyways... he asked me if I wanted to cut his dick off, which just ever so slightly disturbed me. I don't agree with such violence. One has to be really mad to follow through on such impulses and I am afraid that I like sucking dick and fucking much to much to have it taken away from me, from anyone for that matter.

I wonder how many other men this effects in this manner. I don't think it was a personal cut against me by any means, it's just what this culture is turning into.

Very tragic.

Although the only cute thing that ever came out of my brother's mouth was when mom brought me home from the hospital and threw me in the bathtub with him and he looked up at her and exclaimed "MOMMY! THEY CUT OFF HER TINKER!"

That's the only endearing thing that ever came out of his mouth.

OK, so Zack says I am obsessing about his dick too much. I need to talk about his other qualities and so yeah, maybe he's right. I started a list earlier but I got sleepy and took a nap.

So he has this gift to be able to put me in his place as he is telling a story that is just so amazing. I felt bad about telling him a story I already had told him until he did the same thing, but he was able to come at it from a different angle so that I understood the situation better, and he's one of the first people I have met that didn't tell me "I've heard that story before" so when he started to tell me something and he was going to shut up I told him to go on because all of a sudden I understood it from a different angle... or a deeper level.

There is so much that makes him so wonderful to me. And very little that doesn't.

Tuesday April 20, 1999

Sometimes, when I am dead asleep I will wake up and look out my window to see just how beautiful it is. This morning was no exception, only today it was one of those days that you rarely get to see in the city, with the air heavy with mist... It's the kind of morning where photographers go out and make postcards of horses.

So I got my dead ass out of bed and photographed my street. Maybe I can sell a photo to the St. James Art Fair and they can use it in a poster.

You know, I don't know why Kentucky has this stereotype of us being all that stupid. Granted there are some areas in the state I wouldn't even venture out to, but when I think about it... we've got the gold.

Gold.

Horses and gold.

Bourbon and horses and gold.

Kentucky women and bourbon and horses and gold.

Nenny nenny doo doo stick your head in poo poo :-P~~~~~

And you just know that gold somehow filtrates through the water system so we drink it and then our pussies are lined with gold. That's why Neil Diamond sung a song about how beautiful Kentucky women are. (OK, there are California Girls, but we are Kentucky WOMAN).

Damn I am being rather proud today.

James is just cussable. There is no word that can do him justice that is in use, so he is just utterly cussable. I don't really have any clean photos of him developed yet and well, this photo pretty much says it all. The only tragedy is you can't see his um... socks. He is wearing socks in this photo, I just had to crop them out. Did you know there is a reverse insecurity where guys are afraid their dicks are TOO big? I had no idea! I would hate to walk through life thinking my dick was TOO big, because who's really going to give you any sympathy? That's it, this society has gotten out of hand. What's a guy to do when his dick is too big? I just can't imagine...

So... we were talking about families and shit like that and I know I am a blue blood. That's the main reason my mother married my father, so her children could have a name. That used to mean something, but I don't really think it matters in today's day and age. It doesn't mean I don't put my pants on one leg at a time.

I think that's one of Anne's biggest problems, she thinks people should give a shit about that bullshit and they just don't.

I will say this though, by being a blue blood and then being around people that like to think they are better then me because they either bleach their hair and wear fake Channel suits or they are in the DAR or any of that shit just to prove they are something they aren't makes me laugh. I love dressing like a slob and cussing up a storm so people have *no idea* that I am supposed to be cultured.

Besides, what's it matter if I am a blue blood if I'm broke and my daddy doesn't support me in the manner in which I have grown accustomed? Blink Blink.

So the point of this is that I was talking to James and I said "I know I am a blue blood, but it doesn't really matter."

And he looked at me and said "thank you."

I was surprised. I breathe the same air, I shit in a hole, I stare at his cock way too much. I am very human, and in the grand scheme of things, when I die I will be incinerated like the best of them.

Besides, what's in a name? He's more of a gentleman then most... kissing my hand, opening doors, understanding my romantic nature because he has that in himself.

It cracks me up how similar we are in the ways we raised ourselves.

OK. I have to work now.

Wednesday April 21, 1999

I feel like I am stuck in a Surrealist ploy. Like everything is coming together and for the first time in my life everything feels right... There are some things I am not so comfortable within myself, feelings I can not justify, parts of my nature I can never comprehend. But they seem to fall to the wayside, issues that may come up at a later moment but for now just abstract what ifs.

I have been working diligently on my project. It's due today and I think it's rather nice considering I am the only one that would have presented my work on-line. I have some spicing up to do...

I have been thinking about freedom a lot lately. I think that when you give people the choice to try new things, they usually won't. Look at all the shit women went through to get us the right to vote... I wonder how many people actually do vote.

Elena has absolute freedom here, I just now made her start helping me pay the bills and what did she do when I wasn't here and had the freedom to do what ever the fuck she wanted? She laid in her bed and cried. Granted, when I was in Russia, I did the same thing but after a week of bellyaching I pulled my dead ass up and started to explore Moscow on my own.

If anyone asks me what my favorite subject to photograph is, I usually say people because we are so interesting, but honestly it's nature, and that's because the photo is more personal to me. I was a part of nature that day. I can remember how there was a certain smell in the air, or a crispness to the cold.

I think my favorite thing I have photographed this way was when Andy and I were still dating and we went to Red River Gorge with his parents. It was a very monochromatic day, and the earth was monochromatic with wet, dead leaves scattered all about. We were walking back to where we were staying and I looked down and there was this blaze of red so slight, so perfect. Andy's parents wouldn't let us sleep together. I guess they were afraid we were going to fuck with them in the room. His mother was going through menopause and threw the blankets off the bed so I froze all night.

Anyway... this perfect red leaf was sprouting from the ground and I stopped to photograph it and I think his parents didn't understand.

I was looking at a photo I took in London the other day of a swan, and you can see the beads of water clinging to it's neck and they are rather clear. Let me scan it.

(Open it up to get a good look) Anyway, I was looking at it and I said to myself "WOW... I have a photo like this (forgetting for a second I took it). You can even see the beads of water glistening on his feathers."

Duh... Anyway, I like this photo, it brings me great pleasure. OK, back to work.

Thursday April 22, 1999

I slept with the window open last night. It was perfect.

My presentation went well. Everyone was impressed.

I no longer will have a relationship with my sister. I am relieved. She is full of anger and hatred for a past that can not be fixed which determines the future she does not care to share. I didn't think it would feel this good, that I don't have to hurt that way any longer. I hurt in a different way, but I feel so much better about myself.

I called Zack last night when I got her disturbing e-mail and he told me I should try to work it out and so I tried. I told her we should go to therapy and learn how to communicate but that will be impossible. I can put her in the back of my mind and not have to be considerate of her feelings or deal with her angry tirades.

She likes to think I am the one that is mentally ill. I love this projection. Everyone in my family has had it at one time or another, maybe I just represent the kind of person they can never be so it's easier to label me so I am the one that is sick, I am the one with problems, I am the one to blame for their life being fucked up for this or that reason.

I refuse to be bitch slapped by her immaturity. And there is no way I can bitch slap her into the 21st century.

I am not going to be the scapegoat any longer and if by standing up for myself illicits such a reaction, then I am fucking glad not to have anything to do with them. Just because we shared the same cunt doesn't mean our lives are going to take the same direction. And it doesn't mean that I want to keep reliving a past I can't un-create.

I start to think that every once in a while I can get my emotions under control and that I won't have to hurt so much for what ever reason and not dealing with Anne until she decided to grow up sounds like an ideal plan. She doesn't really fit into my world, I am sad to say and I refuse to be confined into the person she think I may be.

I feel so free.

OK... Granny and pop are coming down so I am going to meet them for lunch.

*************************************************

I went to the hospital to meet Granny and Pop. They brought their friend Bea to Louisville to see her sister. She has skin cancer. She didn't seem as ill as mom was when mom died, so I think she has some life in her yet, although she is determined to die.

I looked down at all the pink blotches that made up her skin and thanked god I was a Goth chick that stayed as far away from the sun as I could as a teen. I need to work on that now because I have taking a liking to being out in the sun and having a little color on my skin.

As soon as we walked into the hospital, I was afraid I would think too much of my mother, but I didn't think of her at all.

Instead, I thought of myself and what this hospital meant to me.

This was where I had brain surgery. I walked down the hall with the familiarity one does of bing in a place in time that is forever suspended in their memory. I remembered being in ICU and them not giving me enough medicine to relieve the pain. I remembered the elation I felt when I puked on my father's socks and too sick to really enjoy what I had just done. I remembered walking down these same halls 8 years ago after my fever broke and wanting to do a cartwheel to prove to myself I had done it! (I didn't... my brain was still getting used to it's new place. I remember the first time I sat up after surgery and I wanted to die because it hurt when it fell back into place.) But most of all, I remembered walking down the hall gingerly with a man that had just had open heart surgery and he was telling me a story about how he did the weather somewhere in bum fuck Kentucky and he used his pet rooster.

I looked down at her sister and she was in tears. I tried to associate how I felt about my own sister, but that association is gone. My sister was not humbled by her cancer stint.

I have been thinking and feeling so free all day. I used to feel guilty for Anne, but I no longer can. I remember that after I came home from brain surgery she looked at all the cool presents I got (the coolest being from my Aunt Ellie and Uncle Richie... some Liz Clayborne perfume which I saved and gave to Anne that Christmas because I felt bad for getting stuff when I was sick) and Anne just seething with jealousy and saying "Damn... maybe I should go out and stab myself so I can get some good stuff"

Anne will never change. She is consumed with a jealousy that I can not contend with. And I just don't have to!

I left my grandparents and Bea after going to White Castle and the fabric store. I bought the material to do a wool suit for $10... nice wool.

I was too late to meet Melissa and Colin in the park. I felt bad so I stopped by Godiva and bought her some chocolates and a smut novel. She forgave me. We had a great conversation. She reiterated how Anne will never change and that she is just a Bitch, not a good one.

I came home and Elena was in the shower and I scared the be-Jesus out of her. She screamed so loud. I usually don't like to scare people, but the temptation was overwhelming.

I checked my e-mail and this wonderful woman observed that I over analyze things, and that I should be happier in my life by just being happy... I am learning how to be happy, but I also can't let go over analyzing things, it's just my nature because I was so afraid of losing my mind when I had surgery so I over tax it so I know it still works.

I wish I could have some kind of gentle reprieve, and maybe just maybe I will start talking more about how great the great things in my life have become... but there will always be that edge, to keep me in line and to keep me away from the brink of madness.

Friday April 23, 1999

I love my life.

My boy is coming to see me tomorrow. The sun is so fucking nice. I slept with the window open last night again. I love it when the weather is starting to change from those nasty damp nights into lovely days and nights... when the weather all evens out. It feels like it won't last long and it will get really hot really soon.

I love my body. I love myself. I was watching Roseanne yesterday and she had a show about tits. I used to not like mine, they were too big. But I finally decided that it's nicer to like them for what they are now then hate them more when I am older.

It's such a beautiful day in Kanfuckiana.

I didn't know how to listen for birds fucking. When James was here the other day he told me. I think that's one of the reasons humans get spring fever. We don't think listening to bird fucking is x-rated.

My skin itches. I have allergies. My nipple has a rash on it. That's what woke me up, being chafed by my t-shirt.

So... what does it feel like to fuck a god, you might be wondering. Well, I shudder a lot, mini convulsions of pleasure. When his head hits my g-spot and gets right up in there, I can feel an electrical discharge going off. But this only happens when I use all my muscles and try to push him out of me. God I am going to go crazy.

I have to go... I need to feel productive today.

Saturday April 24, 1999

Anne keeps writing me this vile shit. It's not like I have never heard it all before because I knew in my heart she was just pretending to be a better person, she is fundamentally flawed in her way of thinking and likes to turn it around on me.

She had written this nasty nasty e-mail and I just replied with "get your shit out of my storage facility and you owe me $300."

She went off on me about how I owe her money for my bed... I spent way too much of my own money on her when we were in Russia and she was so kind as to buy it for me.

Maybe I was evil to see just how far back she had gone and how I knew she would return to her screaming banshee ways.

"Don't completely alienate me, Cathy. I am the only sister you have""

I wrote her back and told her that she can harvest her own damn bone marrow now that she is healthy because I was never too keen on the idea of giving her mine in the first place. And that it was never a great honor for me to do so because she just assumed I would do it and never asked me if I would help her.

So maybe I am not such a good person for testing her limits, but I was finally honest with her for the first time in my life and she couldn't handle the truth.

I shouldn't feel guilty... you reap what you sow and I have changed so much in the past 2 years that I refuse to be slammed into a place where my family can control me. I have changed too much for their games to work on me.

I can give them all kinds of reasons for being the way they are but I am tired of making excuses.

ONTO PHASE II OF MY LIFE

It actually looks like I am going to graduate with my BFA. I already finished my Russian degree.

So now I have to get a job.

I thought about going to Europe this summer, but I don't want to spend the money. I still haven't totally made up my mind yet.

I want a job.

And I want to fall deeper in love with James.

I want to grow older with him. I want him with me as much as possible.

Melissa doesn't cut me any slack when it comes to this. I am scared that to have the kind of job I want I have to leave her and Colin and my grandparents and Lesli and her family.

To start my own family.

To live my life for myself instead of pleasing people that can not be pleased.

I don't think it will be all that easy to have the kind of relationship I want with James, but I think he wants the same from me and he is a very giving person. This will make the third weekend he has driven down from St. Louis to come see me.

Elizabeth is in town. She is staying at the Seelbach, which is the oldest and nicest hotel in Louisville. My dad used to take us to the Oak Room when we were children. I remember spending one Thanksgiving there eating pasta and turkey and feeling so odd because we weren't spending it in the traditional manner with family.

He even took me there once without Thomas and Anne for my birthday. There's a good dad memory. Dad could be nice when he wanted to be, but his abuse far outweighs his pleasure.

And I don't think James is anything like my father. He's more like me.

So... have you seen the site the Trench Coat Mafia did? I have. I was at a friend's house and his wife asked me if I knew about them. This was before all that mess happened. They told of how they were going to do something on April 20th. No one paid attention.

I wonder if I had seen the site before if I could have done anything, but then I would have asked myself what could I have done. Mental illness is something even the strongest person can't deal with.

I saved the files as soon as I saw them because the next day when I returned to the site, they had taken the info down.

I am trying to decide if I should put it somewhere on my site so that people can be educated and see for themselves what it was. I don't condone what they did, in any way, shape or form, but I think the public has a right to know what kind of information was on that site. Censorship... I have a thing against it, you know?

When I was working at the Rare Books Room at out university (which is where Jacinta and I became such great friends) the curator, Delinda Buie, was given the opportunity to get some of Hitler's watercolors and she wouldn't take them.

I understand why she didn't, because a university is such a political place and who really wants to remember Hitler as being an artist? He failed out of art school.

Still... I can't help but wonder if you could see his madness in his work.

And from a sociological standpoint, that information is fascinating. It just proves to see how far we are willing to go with our mental illnesses.

I used to think I was so weird for not believing in this system. That I was a freak in high school, but the more educated I become, the more normal I realize I am.

It's beautiful here in Kentucky. This is my favorite time of year because Louisville has it's shit together and they have groomed the landscape to make it more beautiful for the encroaching visitors.

They didn't just prune that tree... they cut it down yesterday outside my window. I still haven't gone down to see what it looks like.

Anyways... I have a paper to write.

Sunday April 25, 1999

James's mom is ill. He spent the day in the hospital yesterday and she is ok... I wrote to him about how I could sympathize with his emotions. Then I told him about how when we had to take my mom to the hospital after my great-grandmother's funeral that November of 1997.

At first we didn't think much of it. Mom was always so fucking sick. She went from doctor to doctor trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with her and they all told her she was fine.

The first evidence of Cancer had been back in 1981 and they removed everything so there shouldn't be a problem so many years later, right? She would tell her doctors about how she had cancer and they ignored that little fact because even if you can't imagine, doctors hate to hear the word cancer as well.

I remember Thomas driving the car from Danville and mom writing in pain. I don't know how she stayed conscious. We got her into the hospital and they ran an x-ray of her lungs because she was complaining of chest pain. They admitted her into Suburban and from there the hospital experiences become a blur.

I remember sitting outside her room when Lesli came in to see her, just sitting on the floor, silent. I have never heard my older sister scream so loud in my life as mom told Lesli her cancer was back.

I couldn't do anything. I didn't cry. I don't' think I fully understood what cancer was. Now I think I could do a thesis on the psychological effects.

So, I thought of this and how frightened I was and I was just 15. I think life and matters such as this are much harder on adults then they are on children. I can't imagine what life would have been like had mom lived much longer. I wanted to die so much because I was emotionally fucked up all the time.

So I can understand how he must have been frightened to be stuck in the hospital for over 12 hours yesterday. He's not familiar with that environment and I can't really seem to escape it since Melissa is a nurse.

Now I want him here with me more. I want to love and kiss and just be near him... but I am not sure he is in a position where he can come here now.

I hate Sundays.

I went to the casino this morning with Margaret from the bank and her sister. He sister was married to a fucking control freak from hell, Kentucky style. 11 herbs and spices all fucked up. I can't stand to hear women that were in abusive situations because it hits too close to home sometimes.

If I were her sister's daughter, I would never have anything to do with my father... but then again I know how wonderful my life has been since I have felt oppressed by someone else's anger every day.

It's a lot easier to tell someone to fuck off and make something out of yourself your own way then it is to kiss ass and do it their way.

I am so tired. I was so mezmarized by the slot machines... and I didn't win, but I did serve as lady luck to Margaret's sister because she won over $400. This sends a clear message to me that I am not a gambler but being lady luck suits me just fine.

OK... I need to sleep. Then I will go to the grocery and then I will write my paper and hope ever so much that James is able to make it here. I am glad his mom is ok.

Monday April 26, 1999

Another night spent in insecurity...

I hate that our relationship is rather fragile right now, but what can we do?

His car broke down in Illinois. He has not had a great couple of days, but I laugh because this relationship will probably be perfect, littered with the complexities and insecurities most couples don't face because many of them can't feel one another and if they are right for each other.

In just one day, he experienced what it felt like to not know what it was like to know what your mother was ill with. I know it was hell on him Saturday. We were finally able to chat on ICQ and I said imagine feeling that suspended horror for 10 years and he said he thought of me when it was going on. He just couldn't imagine... 10 years of hell.

He was sad and he was mean to himself for everything falling apart like this, but when I knew what was going on I just wrote to him that ANYTHING I have ever wanted has never come so easily to me. NEVER. There is always some sweet little reminder that anything for me is not worth it unless there is some amount of irony involved.

"Here's the man of your dreams... but wait, you have to know what you are feeling is right and that you are secure in yourself enough to know that he loves you so he has to spend the day in the hospital... and then today his car has to break down so you are fucked up most of the day."

I sadistically smile to myself knowing that if it doesn't hurt just a little and just in that perfect way such things can hurt, then it's really not worth it.

Bitter reminders of a past never lived effortlessly. Well, if this is just the beginning, then I am even more comforted by the fact that even though he is virtually perfect, there are still some extenuating circumstances surrounding me and I am not allowed to be blissfully happy easily. There is always a price to pay for being so close...

But I am happier now then I was last week. He now has an idea of what it was like to go through that with mom. Maybe not a shattering reminder, but enough of one that scared him really bad.

And the thing with the car was to add a special touch of irony.

Well, I smile to myself because at least he was on his way to see me... it's not like he was half-assing an attempt and sometimes these things just can't be controlled.

He thought I was going to be pissed, but it takes a lot more to make me angry. I don't get angry very easily these days, the kind of rage filled anger that is destructive. I'm not into that so much these days. It's a waste of energy.

Besides... I can live one more day without sex.

Tuesday April 27, 1999

Or two or three or four.

I suppose I can wait even a whole week to have sex again.

Jacinta took me away last night. We went shopping and I found one of those cool shirts like what Marie had only for a chick with tits. You would think with all the fake tits floating around clothing manufacturers would start to get a clue and make some things more roomy in the chest.

Anyways, she was concerned I was a little fucked up because James didn't make it on Saturday and when I went to that party Saturday night she could tell I was a little off.

Well, shit happens and life goes on.

I was working on my paper a little and didn't mind the break.

We were chit chatted about this and that and we talked about how our friend Marina was moved here by her husband. He hasn't been here to see her very much and we were wowed by her powers of endurance.

I said "Once you get to be a certain age..."

Jacinta quickly retorted "ONCE you havesex..." it's hard to stop.

I knew that as a teenager. I didn't want to fuck around because I knew I would like fucking way too much.

We shopped and I also bought a sweater like the ones I love so much. Black cotton V-necks. I wore my last one out, it's not so attractive anymore. I bought a new one this past summer in Italy, but it's wool. The only thing that would be nicer would be if it were silk, but I am afraid that won't happen especially since I bought it in the men's department.

On our way back home she saw that her dad was still working on the house he bought for his kids to live in. Her dad is the coolest fucking dad I know. He's one of those that accepts everyone and treats them like he would his own. He's retired military and he works at a place with juvenile delinquents now. It started off as a part time job, but they quickly got him to work more and more.

He taught me how to dance like a chica. He showed me all the work he had done to that place and I just stared and stared in amazement. His children do not know how lucky they are to have such a great fucking dad. I think Jacinta understands to a degree, but for me not to have that and see him work his ass off for them, it pulls on my heart every once in a while. I am not necessarily so jealous, I can appreciate him though and I remember all the times I have seen him. Even making him coffee on a cold winter day when I lived on Lynn Street.

I am amazed with his talents as a renovator though. I was looking around and I thought of my mom a lot. She would have loved to have done that kind of work. She was always doing something to her own house.

I miss my mommy.

Lesli called me last night, just to see how I was doing. I wanted to cry because normally she is really busy and it's hard to make time for other people when you have kids. It made me feel more special because I know she misses me. I have just been taking some time to myself and well, giving some of it out as well.

I started my period yesterday, so maybe this roller coaster of emotions that I have been on will cease for the next 28 days.

OK... back to women and objectifying them.

Wednesday April 28, 1999

I am never going to hurt again.

I am never going to fall in love again.

I can try to delude myself into thinking it can work out, but he refuses to give up his ex, and I will not compete with that. I can't. He won't even give me the chance.

Back to being an Internet slut. Back to pretending it doesn't bother me. Back to the place where society likes to keep women, sealed up, pre-packaged, everything looks yummy.

I really would have liked for things to have worked out but who am I kidding. I am talking about myself here and sometimes I feel like I don't deserve to be loved. I don't get to live happily ever after. I don't get to dream about the picket fence and 2.5 kids.

Then I think about what a fuck up my brother is and if someone is stupid enough to love him and he's been such a bastard then I know I am worthy.

It's just going to take a special kind of man. I thought he could be it, but he wants time for himself and that's great, you know, get your life in order now. I thought I could wait but I won't do that to myself. I deserve to be treated better then that.

Well, as Joe said, it's better to have tested the waters. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe I should wait, but wait for what?

The one thing I know for certain is that if you don't live your life today and you are always waiting for something better to happen then you can die watching life pass you by. I watched my mom do it and I refuse to live like that.

Keir told me I ran hot and cold on people. I think this is what constitutes a passionate person but I also know what I like and what I don't because I watched my mom suffer so hard for so long. Why did she suffer? Her suffering serves as a daily reminder that life is way too fucking short. I am a very black and white person about some things. I am willing to go to shades of grey over a lot of things but not about how I feel. Life is way too short and way to precious to be pining away for someone hoping one day they *might* get a clue.

I can't stand indecisiveness. Thinking things through for what could be instead of what is. Taking life for granted. I don't have that luxury. I refuse to give it to myself and had those feelings re-affirmed when Cassie was put in the hospital with a swollen brain 2 weeks after her baby was born.

So... here I am raw once again. Feeling like a fool because I really hoped that maybe he was the one. Thinking growing old with Melissa as my constant companion isn't such a bad thing, she is really beautiful you know. I am not so desperate to think I have to put up with this kind of shit in order to be loved. And there are other men out there that can fuck like gods, at the very least he has proven that to me. Other men that are beautiful spiritually, emotionally, artistically gifted and well rounded men. Other men that can love me the way I deserve to be loved. Other men that aren't selfish.

I learn so much from every man I encounter. I learned from my dad what manners are all about, and an idea of romance, and if I am being abused the way he abused me that I can remove myself from that situation. I learned that even if two people care about one another and they still get along that is not enough to make a relationship work from Andy, and that there doesn't have to be a bad guy. I learned from Roman that there are wonderful men that are straight. I learn from Zack and Joe that if a guy doesn't at least love me like they do, they aren't really worth it. And I learned from Joe what it takes to stay in a marriage. I learned that you can have fun with a man from Keir (and that I really do love big cocks) and that I am not *that* perverted (or that I like really perverted things). I learned you can get pissed at someone and still be friends with them from Michael. I learned from Dale that's it's amusing to watch a man try to manipulate me because I am 100 times better at it. I learned that I don't like fucking rednecks.

I learned that I deserve the best a man has to offer, and if he's not willing to give it to me, then he really isn't worth it.

And most of all I learned that I really like being in love. Maybe I should just fall head over hells in love with myself so that people around me feel it too. Elena said for the past two weeks I have been so beautiful, so sticking it to myself instead of someone else might not be such a bad idea.

There I go... now I am in a much better mood then when I woke up. Maybe today I can actually accomplish something.

****************************************************

I DID IT!!! My LAST final. One more paper... one paper and I am DONE!

I wasn't sure I could do it. I was scared. I got a B+ on my presentation. I went to fast, but we were running low on time. I couldn't answer one of PhD. Zigler's questions... My brain was fried. I was stressed and since mom died, I am not interacting socially too well. At least not with people I don't know.

Dr. Bergandi keeps telling me this story about a friend who told a women "when you find yourself in between true loves, give me a call."

I wish I had his number.

I don't know what to think anymore. I am sleepy. And happy that I am one step closer... I really am going to graduate!

Thursday April 29, 1999

I'M A BABE ON THE WEB!!!!!!

Ah... I am so happy. These little things make me feel really good.

I got an e-mail from Keir and he gave me permission to use one of his photos he did on my welcome page. It's the funniest thing I have ever seen. I was taking Surrealism last year and that photo just set it off.

OK... I have to write my paper.

Friday April 30, 1999

A rejection of Judeo Christian values.

Back to the pagan beliefs of what life was like before people even tried to be good to one another. This is why people are so disturbed because we like to think we are still so many levels from the sludge we crawled out of but there it is, lying in the base of our spine.

Those boys from the Trench Coat Mafia were in essence telling this society to fuck off. They were sick of the hipocrazy of what has come to define who they were as people. They were not accepting what society had to offer, so instead of just killing themselves, they took some of our latest and greatest.

I was not a latest and greatest in high school. I was made fun of so haneously the constant thought of dying was more appealing then dealing with a bunch of bullshit. At home I was told I was better then other people because I was a Clay, and that was suppose to mean something, but at school I was not socially accepted. I was ridiculed. It was more acceptable to be like Anne. It was OK to be friends with Anne, for some reason she abided by society's mandates and since I was a little Tom Boy...

After high school, I saw no real reason to put any validity into what is considered to be socially acceptable. I am never going to be accepted into this society, plain and simple. And I don't relish the thought of it either.

I think what those boys did was wrong, but I think the fuckers that made fun of them were more wrong. And there is only so much finger pointing you can do at the parents. There has to be a point when people start taking responsibility for their words and actions, and this was a wake up call to many people that things can not continue on the same vein.

If you don't teach your children to be kind and considerate to one another, then you aren't doing you job as a parent. Elena, Andy and I got into a discussion last night about how awful this was and she said that if I hadn't have been someone that was made fun of I would have made fun of someone else. Well, I did that and last year apologized to him. Come to find out his mother was just as abusive to him as my father was to me and he is one of the sweetest men I have known.

Kind and considerate people usually come from such backgrounds. I can definitely say I am more moved by a kind gesture or word then anything not critically examined and just spouted off. I think when someone is kind, it shows that they are sensitive to how far we have evolved.

I have pulled a gun on people before. My dad kept a loaded .38 in between his mattress and box springs. One day the neighbors got all riled up over something so my sister and my "friends" all ganged up on me and were coming after me with mops and brooms. I was so scared, I went and got my father's gun and as they got closer to the door, I pulled it out and said "blah blah blah.. meet BLACKIE." Of coarse I never intended on using it.

I am not too proud of myself. It wasn't a good thing to do, but those children were hurting me and I was pretty much left alone after that. Thank God too because that was before my whores started to moan... yuck... teen angst. I will never miss it. I think my early twenties was the worst.

Ok... back to my paper...

Oh... and racism is the belief that one culture is better then the other because they are more afraid of dying.

Pure
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PHOTOS\

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