January 2011
I am a giant failure at everything.
But no, I’m okay. I just don’t utilize this the way I initially planned (Story. Of. My. Life!) I still want to do a daily, but I need pens, I need a better sketchbook for it, need need need. No I don’t, I just need lined paper and a ballpoint pen! I give myself all these excuses to not do it, and then when I have all of my “required accessories”, I procrastinate. Gah! It’s a combination of worry that nobody cares, nobody WILL care, I’m not funny, I can’t draw well, I can’t get across what I’m trying to say..I don’t know. I’m just a big scared pussy. Guh.
“
“SEATTLE — Phoenix Jones calls himself a crime fighter.
He has a cape, a mask and a stun gun and he spends several nights each week patrolling Seattle and other areas trying to stop crime.
“I endanger my life with a reason and a purpose,” he says.
But over the weekend, a man held Phoenix at gunpoint and another broke his nose.
Police say enough is enough and that someone may end up getting killed.
“Don’t insert yourself into those situations,” Seattle Police Detective Mark Jamieson said in an interview last week. “If you see something, call 911.”
The attack happened near the intersection of 5th and James on Saturday night.
“They were all swearing at each other and like about to fight,” Phoenix said. So he stepped in to break up the brawl and one of the guys turned on him.
“He starts swinging on me and starts an altercation with me.”
Phoenix said he called 911, put one of the men in a headlock and waited for police. But seconds later, Phoenix said, another man pulled out a gun.
When he let go of the man he was holding, the man kicked Phoenix in the face, breaking his nose. Both men got away.
Phoenix said it was no big deal, but the attack is exactly what police were afraid was going to happen when Phoenix and his superhero cohorts started patrolling the city.
“They insert themselves into a potentially volatile situation and then they end up being victimized as well,” Jamieson said.
Police worry Phoenix’s recent taste of fame has pushed him to put himself in harm’s way. He has been featured on international news shows, and said he declined offers from the Discovery Channel, MTV and A&E to be in a reality TV series.
People on the street stop him and ask him for autographs, but Phoenix said that’s not what motivates him.
“I train for these situations,” he said. “I don’t just come out willy nilly and run out on the streets.”
But after looking down the barrel of a gun, police hope Phoenix stops before it’s too late.
Officials say it’s not illegal to dress up in costume and patrol, but with the stakes higher they’re asking the would-be superheros to just call 911.”
” —http://www.komonews.com/news/113246859.html
Play
The Party
I arrived, and flung myself into Anthony’s arms. It’s his birthday, and I love seeing him so happy. His curled hair is pulled back into a ponytail, a finger’s-width chunk drifting down along his jaw and curling up under his chin. A fancy tuxedo hat is perched atop his head, and a red scarf is tossed around his neck. His long, horse-like face is flushed with alcohol and a huge smile is carved into his features. He is one of my best friends.
The basement is packed with people. I recognize most of people, even if their names escape me. These were the people who laughed behind their hands at me in high school. These were the people who stood in their throng of friends and left me at the fringes, arching their eyebrows at my daring to think I could be included. They hug me now, pat me on the back. There are three televisions on in the basement, each blaring the grunts and swooshing sound effects of fighting games. Bent backs, wide eyes, and slack jaws are the overwhelming majority. We all start to drink, there’s plenty of booze to go around. I chat it up with my old friend Brian and his friend Tony. Suddenly, Kevin is drunk, he keeps grabbing me by the shoulders and planting wet kisses on my cheeks. I can usually tell when somebody is trying to really kiss me, there’s a persistant leaning involved, but his displays of affection seem limited to the side of my face. Still, it’s surprising and slightly unsettling. I am not used to feeling female in this crowd. I flop back into a couch with Adrianna, and a guy whose name escapes me edges himself over to be closer to me, his arm snaking around the back of the couch. I ignore it, and keep my attention on Adrianna. It’s the strangest mix of “too good to be true” and “please stop”. My confidence tells me to tell him off, to leave or to yell, but the insecurity creeps into my throat. There is another side of me that glows with this lavished attention. It embarrasses me to admit, but I think everybody enjoys feeling like they’re attractive. Somebody slaps my ass as I go up the stairs, but I’m too drunk to turn around, I need to get a plastic bag for Anthony, because he’s throwing up from all the alcohol.
I keep my sentinel by the bathroom and Anthony’s room. I peeked into the bathroom a few moments ago: Kevin is a heap on the ground, his cheek smooshed across the white bathtub, and Russel’s back is tense as he clutches desperately to the toilet, vomitting. Now, I sit with my feet stretched across the hallway, protectively, waiting to go get water, bags, anything that is needed. Adrianna is with Anthony, and I know he’s safe. Brian and his friend come to sit with me, and this Tony kid keeps glancing my way. He seems harmless enough, and I’m always up for new friends, but he has a glint of interest in his eyes. I’m getting sick of the attention: why now, and why not then? When I went home and wanted to die from the daily hatred, when I curled up in my bed and faked sickness to avoid the harassment and sarcastic comments, the “Hey, sexy” ‘s shouted across the hallways and the “Crack kills” taunts whenever I bent over. Why now? Why, after I finally struggled to become my own person, after being left behind and left in the dust, after I crawled up my own path and found my own glow. I hear something, and look up.
“What?”
“I said, what kind of stuff are you into?”
Tony asks me, his face hopeful. My mouth hangs open, and I just stare at him. Finally, I shake my head. “Uh. Lots of stuff.” I shoot his outward gesture down. I feel bad, he has no idea, but I don’t want him to think I’m interested just because I’m sitting with him.
I went home with Cris shortly after. I hear everyone made it home safe.
Go to google image search, and type in 241543903.
It’s a whole bunch of images of people putting their faces in fridges. I love the internet. So, so much.
Today I went into the city with some folks, and realized exactly what it is I love/hate about the city.
LOVE
- Everything is so close by and convenient.
- Culture, culture, culture!
- Public Transportation.
HATE
- Too many people. The crowds suffocate me.
- Tied in, people just don’t give a crap. I thrive on connections and friends.
- It smells and looks horrible. Aesthetics are a guilty pleasure in somewhere I’ll be living.
We all went to a Karaoke Bar, which is exactly how they are in animes and Japanese movies..they throw you in a room with a thousand songs and you sing them like idiots. The place was run by Japanese people: I was almost tempted to say something to them, but I didn’t wanna be that yuppie weeaboo. So, I was just extra-nice.
Midtown comics was cool, too. I always seem to end up in comic book shops when I’m real short on money (When am I not?) I want to go do touristy things in the city, and soon. I want to go to..
- Madame Tussauds Wax Museum
- Museum of Sex (for the second time)
- Metropolitan Museum of Art
- Times Square, and kiss a special person. (
a freckly, cute boyperson I know..)
So, yeah. It’s 2 am and I am sleepier than I should be, considering I’m still awake. Earlier today I had a breakdown that lasted from 9:30am to 1:00pm concerning loans and school, and the potential of not going to school this semester, which definitely wore me out.
Hope you guys are enjoying my comics, and don’t mind my occasional text-based rant.
-Floe
