Well, fuck. Just fuck. The reason, my adoring fans, why I have not been posting at all, besides the fact that school is again ass-raping me with AP essays, German grammar, the UN, polynomials, psycho-ballet, and atomic theory on a daily basis, is that I am grounded from everything until my 18th birthday at which point I will leave home and embark on that fun and fascinating journey we call adulthood. What happened? Does it matter? Come on, you all know my stepmother, it doesn't have to make sense, there doesn't have to be a real reason, she just gets pissy and decides that SOMEONE needs to suffer, and I have been, to [mis]quote my lovely eromenos, "the lucky winner of a very large lottery." I am only able to reach your eager eyes by the grace of God -- er...well, the Evansville-Vanderburgh Public Library System.
I have been writing again. It is a terrible affliction, and I daresay, in my case as in Wilde's, it may be fatal. Currently I'm working on a lovely little piece tenatively titled Heartbeat. It's the sort of vampire-with-a-twist-and-a-dash-of-heavily-hinted-pederasty novel that might make the likes of Darren Shan proud. Although, I'm reluctant to call the creatures it discusses "vampires," per se. They're difficult little fuckers to classify.
My personal life is, as usual, in shambles. I don't think I'd quite be content if it ever weren't, but at the moment it seems an unneccesary waste of time. I am currently bemoaning my very abundant capacity for jealousy. I find myself spiteful if anyone talks to or about anything other than me. It is the unfortunate side-affect of an addiction to ego, and having finally gotten a real substantial part in a play. And possibly beginning to read The Picture of Dorian Grey.
Which brings my to my next rant. I am currently on chapter five of the afformentioned novel andam utterly disgusted with the whole thing. Why in the hell is Dorian after that tramp Sybil? He deserves much better, in fact, he deserves better than (assuming that Wilde meant for the relationship to be there, which I'm sure he did) Henry. He should have stayed with Basil. He would have been much better off.
And on that note, I leave you to wait unsleepingly for my next pointless entry.
Gha Dun-Lunicor
