homicidal lesbian terrorist

i see your women caught behind windows
in their homes, behind rows and rows
of bleached and frightened children.
They speak men's words, not their own
except those languages they've
learned to speak in secret
and in dreams, if they've
not forgotten.

- Joy Harjo, From the Salt Lake City Airport '82

Saturday, August 21

saturday

We've been cooking as a commune. Yay, Homines cantabrigidensis. Also managed to shop for crucial items, set up the house, clean, do important banking...

I've been thinking about whether to go to Friends' Meeting in the morning. We're cooking then, but I don't have to be there. Sits on the heat for two hours eh. I can leave, they say. I'm just not sure if I want to go.

I'm feeling like kicking it tonight, much less anxious and confused than I have been since first arriving. Gradually putting things in order and just the basic fact that I'm becoming used to my new environment make me feel better.

I miss my friends in San Diego, though not the city. That place sucks. This place has its own problems, but at least they are fresh problems.

Also, I finally realise that it wasn't just me - the girls here are so much hotter. Everyone in SoCal looks the damn same and dresses the damn same and it's such a fucking vanilla look. I'm glad for diversity again.

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