4:13 a.m.

words fail me.
that's rare.
when usually
i have so much
to say, the
excessive thesaurus
and constant commentary
that are my mind
dry up.

a poem? a poem.
you make me feel
like i could write a novel.
you make me lose
my voice.

the words
the phrases, the lines,
turning so regular
in my head
simply cease.
the vast ocean of my
turgid thoughts,
worthless vocabulary,
swims, undulating,
to rivers, trickling down,
tributaries, drops,
dripping to one phrase.
one tiny line.
one you know.
one we all know.

but too soon.
so soon, it can't
be said yet, for
fear the tributaries
trickle back, the
rivers reverse, run
leaping to the vast
ocean of my
turgid thoughts.
worthless vocabulary.
for fear i should find
my voice. it isn't
important, keep it,
please.

because within all these
waterworks, never has honesty
been more apparent.
suddenly this multi-threaded
mind is woven, strung,
tied to one simple phrase.
that one we all know.

and yet, still i sit, unable,
no, unwilling, to say it.
not just yet. for fear the
drip never drop again.
for fear the trickle be lost
forever in the vast ocean of
my turgid thoughts.
worthless vocabulary.

don't melt, darling. don't
say to me, "you liquefy me."
what am i to do with you,
my lovable puddle?
watch as you run upstream,
quickly, carrying with you
a trickle,
a drip-drop,
until every delta and tributary
inverts, reverts, converges,
collides into the trickling,
dripping, dropping,
undulating ocean of my
turgid thoughts, still
worthless vocabulary, and
you are by my side.

on being annoyingly honest.

Ladies and Gents, please, if you read this interwebs trash rag at all, forget what you've ingested so far. In fact, for my sake, take it all, crush it up into a ball in your insides, and puke it up into your toilet. Flush that baby down. Because the summer described in my previous blogs is over in so many ways. Sans freedom. Sans boyfriend. But not sans hope. Surprisingly enough, I've managed to retain so shred of faith in some kind of higher... thing. Be it fate, God, whatever. I am currently working on a) Not being so emotionally invested in a person after so short a time, b) Becoming more comfortable being with myself, and c) Coming to terms with the possibility that I might sometimes have to be alone. I've learned a lot, a lot about myself that I didn't know, a lot about my ex that I didn't know, all of which has been incredibly painful and incredibly helpful with arriving here, wherever here is. So now I'm just working on getting back on my feet. Especially for this semester, having eighteen hours and a job. But really, if you're sad enough to still be reading this, just forget what you've read, and look forward to any new posts I may have. I'm working up, folks. Let's see how this goes.

it's been awhile.

Hello, all.  It's been quite a while since my last post, but I'm happy to say that, in spite of a lot of terribad things happening, I am, for the most part, in a mood very similar to that of my last post.  Also, if you've cared to notice, I now have ads on my blog page.  I'm (apparently) going to be getting paid to have them there, so I figure, I ought to at least post stuff so that the ads keep going as well.  Can't get money for nothing.  Unless you've got a really awesome great-grandma.  Which I do.

So life goes on for James Kane much as it has for the past seven months or so.  Some exciting things happening include:

• Regina Spektor's new album coming out in exactly one week (CAN'T WAIT!)
• Deciding to write a collection of short-ish stories compiled into a novel-esque manuscript.
• And a boyfriend.

You heard right, ladies and gentlemen.  James has a boyfriend.  Holy shit!  It's terribly exciting, I must say, but at the same time, I am TERRIFIED.  It's so intimidating, and so is he, despite his fun-sized packaging.  Not to mention the distance, which by August, hopefully, won't be a problem.  We've already had our issues, our rough patches, and our really great times.  I'm just looking for a chance to develop this into something real.  It's very uplifting, I must say, to have someone who you can be with and also talk to about anything.  It's fun to share!

So, as things progress, I will attempt to post more, and not ALWAYS about the boy (though he'll be in a lot of it, sorry).  Wish me luck, everyone.  Hopefully, I won't need it!

if i had known then that these things happen, would they have happened with you?

James Kane can't stop smiling.

James Kane is still taking it all in.  So much in so little time, and the best thing to happen in a while.

These, as well as the title of this blog, are examples of how my Facebook statuses have been since Friday.  The most insane, incredible, completely ridiculous thing happens to spin your life in the opposite direction, and the only thing you can do is let it, because it's what you've been hoping for for months.

On Friday, I met a boy.

I had known of this boy through another guy (the one I've been bitching about for the past probably five blogs), but I'd never met him, or really given him any sort of thought.  He was just kind of there.  Well, the events of the night that spurred my last blogging debacle possessed me to come to my senses and realized that it wasn't in the cards for this boy I had been liking, and as a gesture of friendliness, something possessed me to message this new boy, the ex of my crush.  Still with me?

Ok, fine, quick recap.  Since around Spring Break, I've been liking C.I.  He told me about his ex, C.M., and made him sound like kind of a bitch.  C.M. friends me on Facey the same day C.I. does, and I find that odd, plus, I didn't want to offend C.I.  So months of tortuous pining later, and I realize that C.I. is not, nor will ever be, interested in me.  So as a way to apologize, I contact C.M. the only way I know how:  Facebook.  I send him a message, he replies, back and forth, back and forth.  He tells me things about C.I. that make total sense, but that I was ignoring because I wanted to see the good in him.  C.M. and I decide to hang out, so I go over to his dorm to help him do laundry.  And we end up spending the next 21 hours together.  That has never happened to me before.  I don't really know what I was expecting when I went over there, maybe just some hanging out, possibly some hooking up.  What happened surpasses both of them and is still shocking me.

We connected.  I know, I know.  I sound like some New Age, hippie freak, but seriously.  As godawful cliche as it sounds, it happened.  On some strange, deep level, this boy and I connected.  Hours after meeting one another, it was like we'd known each other for years, and at the same time, we couldn't stop asking each other questions, dying to learn more about the other.  I can't fully describe it, and haven't been able to since it happened, even to people I'm talking to in person, but some words to point you in the right direction might be:  elation, surprise, joy, electricity, buzz, gut-wrenching, heart-pounding, and delight.

But of course, friends, there is a catch-22.  I assure you, it's nothing too terrible, but I can feel myself growing sadder and sadder about it each day.  This boy, C.M., was packing up his dorm room when I went to visit him.  He was packing up so that he could bring all his stuff home with him.  To Alabama.  That's right.  We met on the last possible day.  Such is my luck.  And even though we only knew each other for barely a day, we decided to stay in touch and make something actually happen when he comes back for school in the fall.  Still.  It's going to be a very, very long summer.  I have faith in the two of us.  I just hope that time doesn't take its toll.  But if you ask me, Fate brought us together on that specific day, and Fate doesn't just do that shit for fun.  At least, I hope she's not that fickle.  

Well, now that I've proved myself to be a totally foolish sap, all I have to say is that I hope you all believe me when I say that I believe in this.  Without a doubt.  I can't say it's not true anymore, not after having experienced what I have, and felt what I felt.  I know it can work, and I'm going to make it.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say.

oh what a tangled web we weave.

James Kane is a home-wrecking whore.

James Kane is a desperate child seeking any attention he can find.

James Kane is a "tragic", wannabe artist who hasn't done anything creative since the 6th grade.

James Kane should probably be a bottom/should probably just have been born with different parts altogether.

All of these would be appropriate Facebook statuses for me to have, were it not my primary form of communication with 500 or so of my "friends" (my apologies to those of you who are actually my friend).  The way I've been acting lately... Jesus, I don't even know what to do with/about myself anymore.  So I'm sitting here at 5:00 a.m., writing a blog, having just got back from one fuck buddy's apartment after fooling around with his temporary roommate in the other guy's absence.  And I think to myself, when the FUCK did I get like this?  What the FUCK am I doing??  Oh, did I mention the roomie's boyfriend.  Yeah.  The best part about it is that he didn't really initiate things, or, if he did, he did it very passive aggressively to where I had to do all the work involved with getting someone naked.  

Everyone, just do me a huge favor and STOP reading my blog.  I'm too god damn honest on here, but it's like having a good talk with someone.  Letting it out.  Jesus H. Christ, I need a shrink.  Any recommendations?

So instead of being honest with 500 of my closest friends (which I realize would be a stupid idea whether I was being ridiculously overdramatic or not), I'm blogging in an attempt to clear my consci--um... mind.  Clear my mind.  And instead of any of those lovely options listed above, my status simply says:

Oh what a tangled web we weave,

When first we practice to deceive!

i am giving up on making passes, and i am giving up on half empty glasses

Ladies and gentlemen, I've made a resolution.  Lo and behold, it has to do with boys.  Gasp, I know.  Let's hear it.

I will treat all gay men that I meet as people, acquaintances, even friends, not options.

I will not expect from any man anything that he should not expect from me.  He has no obligation to me, and until there is a reason, it shall remain so.

Basically, what I'm saying here, people, is that I am going to go about meeting people normally, through friends, and shall treat them as such unless they give me reason to treat them otherwise.  I will make acquaintances, make ties, and, eventually, I will meet someone who will like me as much as I like them.  But men are just men, not slabs of meat, not playthings.  I'm going to do my best to be a better person than I've been recently, and I feel that it will reflect on my life in the future.  I'm really trying not to sound like a self help book, but I just feel like I need a change.  I've already implemented a part of this plan.  The other day, I received an e-mail from a guy on some website asking if I'd be interested in hooking up.  I politely replied that two things would have to happen for me to hook up with someone:  one, I would most definitely need to see his face (come on, I still have standards), and two, I'd have to be at least in the foremost stages of a relationship.  So I told him that if he'd like to show me what he looked like, then maybe get some coffee or see a movie, by all means, he should e-mail me back.  He hasn't yet.

And there it is.  The whole of this God forsaken community is perpetually obsessed with sex.  Yeah, admittedly, about a week ago, I was too.  But for some time now, I've been needing so much more than sex.  And now, I think I'm finally ready to just wait for it.  Phew.

i beg your pardon, i'm not lookin' for a cure. i've seen enough of my friends and the depths of the godsick blues.

Hello, everyone.  My, what a week.  I wish there was more to tell you, or at least better news, but sadly, I tend to fall flat.  All the time.

Let's start with things I accomplished this week.  I read The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald.  I did a Gatsby-themed painting.  I managed not to kill anyone at work or in New Orleans.  And I managed, once again, to fall in love with an unavailable boy.

I have a feeling that eventually, I'm going to bore someone with this consistency.  Unfortunately for me, I can't stop. 

The afore mentioned boy ("slow down, Speedy Gonzales") has definitively stated that, while I'm not "speeding anything" because "there's nothing really to speed", he is "not ready for there to be anything there, sorry."

Well, fuck.

Because that's what he means when he comes to see me at work, then sends me a text saying "I like your eyes.  :)", right?  Makes sense to me.  It's quite easy to determine whether potential exists betwixt two people after a ten minute conversation in a B&N Newsstand, is it not?  I mean, stop me when I say something wrong, please.

Is is so much to ask to just get coffee?  Come watch a movie?  Because the fact that I've slept with multiple people apparently means that if I'm talking to you, I want to sleep with you.  The honest to God fact that I actually kind of like this boy plays no part in whether I get to spend time with him.  

Ok, scratch that.  From what I can tell about this boy, I like him a lot more than "kind of".  And the fact that I'm hardly given the chance to get to know him is ridiculous.  

For once, I just really want to meet a boy who will like me as much as I like him.  It's happening around me, I'm seeing it, first hand.  

So why, in the name of everything Holy, can't it be me?

thank god for this new laughter. thank god the joke's on me.

I don't know how I feel at all.  It's like the beating thing in my chest doesn't belong to me anymore.  Not because it "belongs to someone else", or any of that crap.  Because it makes decisions on its own.  "See that guy?  The beautiful, unattainable one, right there?  You're going to fall headlong for him.  And I'm not giving you any choice in the matter."  I can't help it anymore.  I literally fall in love with everyone I come in contact with for about a day or two, and I can't stop it anymore.  And I really want to know what the fuck is wrong with me.  It's hardly sexual, even.  That's, of course, a part, we are talking about me, here.  But it's just the way some of them talk.  The way others hold themselves.  The way they smile.  And I just go soft.  In the head, in the core of me, I don't know.  I'm disintegrated.  And I have no clue how to make it stop.  Nor have I decided if I want it to.  That's the worst part about it.  As much as I want something real, these one way fiascos are the closest things I have to feeling love.  And that just leaves me, alone on a Friday night, feeling pathetic.  I'd promised myself I wouldn't start feeling sorry for myself, but here I am getting dangerously close.  So I'll just stop here.  Happy Spring Break.

"You would kill for this, just a little bit.  Just a little bit, you would, you would."

what the hell do i do that for?

I've been talking to a boy today.  A boy apparently not interested in meaningless sex or random hook ups.  A rather attractive boy, here at LSU.  Very nice seeming.  It's too soon, of course, to make any real assessments, but tell me, is it wrong that when I looked at our "Friends In Common" on Facebook, and saw that half the list I've screwed around with, and the other half I've tried to screw around with, it made me a little uncomfortable?  And once again, we're back to gay men in BR.  And the impossibility of meeting a nice guy who hasn't already made it through the rounds.  I hate the fact that there are rounds, and that I've been 'round some of them, but does it make me a hypocrite to want someone who doesn't know some of the same people I've been with?  It's not even that I'm being greedy or selfish.  I just hate complications, and in this town, that's all gay guys are.  It's like a sport for them, fucking exes and new guys over.  And with the web that's woven here, there are a lot of scary strings that can be pulled.  I don't know how vindictive some of these guys can be, because, to be totally honest, I don't know many of these guys very well.  I don't know, I might just be too hard on the local gay community as a whole, but from what I've seen... I just feel like I should be cautious, and that doesn't leave a lot of room for falling recklessly in love.  Which is about what I need right now, I think.  But anyway.  Perhaps this will pan out, but there's also a chance it won't go anywhere, he'll end up not interested, or I'll do something to boink it (like I usually do).  Either way, I'll keep you posted, and I'll figure out what to call him in Blogworld whenever that becomes an issue, if it ever does.  For now, I'm going to go to bed, wake up early, and try to study for my Spanish reading quiz that I put off.  Work this weekend for the first time in a week, I'm sure I'll have something fun to say after that.  Until then, wish me luck, and I'll return the favor.  After all, why wouldn't I?  You are putting up with reading this.  Nighty night.  Je t'aime.

that didn't take long.

Ok, fine, let's get in it.

For all my bravado and experience, boys, men, guys, whatever, in normal situations terrify me.  Anyone who says there's a massive difference between straight men and gay, it's not as much as they think.  Any boy who's ever been afraid to ask out a girl, it's the same fucking thing.  Just like the other night, talking to this guy on Facey, I told him that gay men want the same thing as every man (generally), and he said, "I don't think so."  As if what a gay man wants is not companionship, someone to depend on, a best friend and a lover all in one.  Because that's not at all what "we" want.  For us, it's all just illicit sex with no strings attached.  Well fuck me, I want strings.  So I asked him what the difference was, and he told me that the difference was that straight guys want girls, and gay ones want other guys.  Yeah, no shit, anything else?  Because what really makes what straight men and gay men want besides the sex of their desirables?  Not much.  And it makes me sad that there's a stereotype that says that I'm just supposed to fuck non stop 'til I drop.  Or until I get AIDS and die.  Sure, at some points, I've indulged in this stereotype, but what straight man hasn't slept around, or at least tried?  What makes it different?  Granted, the gay community in Baton Rouge is limited, and by fucking one, you're fucking about three more, but just because our options are limited, doesn't mean that it's different.  Straight boys fuck around too, and eventually, everyone wants someone to be with, and that's universal.  It makes no difference who you're attracted to!

This brings me to some bitchings about the Baton Rouge gay community.  They all are either stuck in the closet (guilty at one point, but no more!), and the others seem to make it their goal to be as obnoxiously, flamboyantly gay as is humanly possible.  And in doing so, they fuck everything that moves, thereby feeding above mentioned stereotype.  Now, I'm no saint, and my friends have come to lovingly term me "The Whore/Slut/Whatever Sexy Friendsult Comes To Mind", but when it comes to some of these boys, I'm angelic.  It's so unfortunate, because finding someone as mellowed out as me is a difficult thing to do.  I hope I'm not sounding like a hypocrite, but, in short, living here, it's easy to get laid, but super difficult to find anything substantial, anything real at all.  And it's like no one else really cares.  Which is kind of an awful feeling.

Other than all of this, good day, good week, but still, hoping something more will happen, or that I'll find some courage to make it so.

put a prize on my soul.

Happy Hump Day, people!  And Happy April Fool's, as well.  

Halfway through this week, and it's been oddly calm.  Not to say that my life is intensely exciting, but lately, it's been hella busy, which is unfortunate, as it's left me feeling stunted and dull.  This week has been different.  Hopefully I'm not cursing myself by saying all this.  Basically, I'm just glad things seem to have calmed down somewhat.  I wasn't enjoying having several things, not all of them school, to worry about constantly.  Perhaps it's because I've been off of work all week.  It's nice, I'm getting things done with time to do other things I enjoy as well, like maintain this blog and watch movies.  I'm praying to someone that circumstances stay mellow like this.  Apart from Monday night's roommate upset and certain passive aggression, things have been quiet, and they need to stay as such.  And there need to be more repeats of last night.  

In other news, Thursday night is Elena's birthday shindig at The Spanish Moon, and as much as I want to go, I feel like I shouldn't, considering I have a Spanish reading quiz first thing the next morning, and, generally speaking, when I've gone out Thursdays in the past, I've missed classes on Friday due to sleeping in.  Chances are I'll at least show up.  It is usually fun, even more so when you're drunk.  Which I don't plan on being.  And now it's occurring to me that I'm talking of things which have absolutely no consequence.  So I think I'll blog back when I have something interesting to say.

card games and incriminating videos.

Hello, everyone.  I had a nice day today, Screenwriting class, great weather, Slumdog Millionaire on DVD, and Zooey Deschanel.  Lots of Zooey Deschanel.  I think if I were straight, I'd have a Hollywood crush on her.  I'll want her to be in one of my movies eventually...  Moving on, for a while after class, I sat around watching movies (Little Miss Sunshine, which I hadn't seen yet, and the first half of Tin Man, this odd little Sci-Fi mini-series starring, who else, Madam Deschanel).  Around 10:30, Hannah (bestie/roomie), Kelsi (other bestie), Aaron (IGNANT/roomie), and I went for a Taco Bell run, which was so fantastic.  The plan was to watch Slumdog, but after sitting and eating and just talking, we decided a hang out night was perfect.  So we proceeded to play Presidents & Assholes (best card game ever), delve deeper into our ghetto/foreign alter egos, and film Kelsi shouting friendsults at Aaron for kicking her ass at cards.  Another lovely topic of conversation was Kelsi's "y-chromosome", which is completely unrelated to her Saudi oil tanker penis that shoots lasers.  Mind you, we did this until 2a.m., about 35 minutes ago.  So after playing with the shotgun application on Aaron's iPhone and about twenty rounds of P&A, we called it quits, and we are all currently in bed (Kelsi with Hannah, ooh la).

When I mentioned in my first post that my friends are my life, this is why.  I can have a fantastic time doing anything with them.  Thank God for all of you, you're the reason I believe in God at all.  Ok, bedtime, class in t-minus 8 hours, and I'm getting up in 6!  G'night!

Oh, also, there was talk of Eiffel Towers, Houdini, and Bull Riding, but if you don't know, don't ask.

quick karma, then bed.

I've just realized that my terrible acne present in my college years is a direct result of karma, back from Middle School, when I told anyone who would listen that Chris Bogle's face looked like a mountain range.  Sorry Chris.  If it makes you feel any better, I'm suffering for it now.  The moral of this story is that things you say come back to haunt you.  Usually in the form of something negative or detrimental, like a plague of red pustules sprouting relentlessly on your face (or mine).  In this case, I'm fucked.  Part of me believes in karma, and the other part really hopes it doesn't exist.  Goodnight.  Je t'aime.

who needs LOLCATS when you have LOLGAYS?

Thank you , Gabe.  You made my night.

my mind. consider it blown.

My reclusive roommate just informed me that his TOPS has been dropped, he's taking 21 hours, he has no money, and his aunt is dying of breast cancer, and that he doesn't want to feel alienated from his roommates, and he's sorry if he's been coming off as an asshole.  Also, he was sobbing.  My mind.  Consider it blown.

here goes

Well, I've done my best.  That's a lie, I studied with my iPod on next to the fountain in the Quad.  How the hell was I supposed to do anything  listening to Ida Maria?  Next to a fountain, no less?!  I reviewed most of the chapter on cinematography, but not a terrible amount more.  I should really not be so surprised every time I fail something.  Again, I ask you (whoever you are reading this bosh), when did I get like this?  Graduated 3rd in my class in high school with a 4.25 GPA.  Now I have two D's, a C, and a B.  High school was easy.  But even last semester, I did alright.  Guess I'm just having my "party boy" semester, as a good friend of mine pointed out, as she caught me write in the middle of blogging in my plaid shirt with my sunglasses on in the middle of the Quad next to the fountain.  Hey, she thought it was cute, at least.  

Also, cute guys keep being around.  Damn them.  And their cuteness.  And their straightness.  This is the part where I stop trying to control things I can. . . Or at least, I try.

"Oh my God!  You think I'm in control!

Oh my God!  You think it's all for fun!"

- Ida Maria

when in doubt, sit around and don't do anything about it.

Hello, all.  Currently, I am sitting in Middleton Library on LSU's lovely campus, on a lovely day, with lovely sunshine and breezes... studying for a four chapter Film & Media Arts test at 3.  Oh wait, I'm not even doing that!  Because, ladies and gents, blogging is more important.  Ha.  Ha ha.  Hahahaha.  Ok, I'm done with that.

But really, this is how my life goes these days.  I put something off, assure myself that at the last minute, I'll come through, and then fail miserably to do so.  I just very sincerely hope that this doesn't become a recurring problem.  I think this semester was just bad for me.  Like, toxic, or something.  Anyway, besides this, I have precious little to talk about, disregarding my lack of initiative in reference to actually asking a boy out, the absence of any gusto in my life whatsoever (where has my enthusiasm gone?), and the easy way I slip in and out of love with every (straight) guy I meet (Tedjakeadambrandon Smith).  I swear to God, spend a week with an unavailable, unattainable someone in the Canadian wilderness or talking for a couple of hours at a party. . . I know it can't really be love, but then, I've never had real love, have I?  A string of attempts at normalcy (girlfriends) that, while somewhat entertaining for a given amount of time, ended with me unsatisfied and alone.  Oh, gag, here I go.  For being a gay guy, it's rather difficult for me to tell which way some guys swing.  That could possibly be because I'm too hopeful, and want the majority of straight guys to be gay simply because they're the ones who're attractive (gay guys suck. . . get your mind out of the gutter).  But who's to say that even if I met a nice gay guy who I was actually attracted to, I would ever ask him out?  Because when it comes down to it, I'm afraid.  Of lots of things, really.  Tornadoes, failure, but more relevant than those, rejection.  Oh my God, am I afraid of rejection.  So much that I'm afraid to ask a regular in the cafe where I work, who I know is gay, out for coffee (or in for coffee, depending on whether we'd want to leave the building, seeing as my job is to serve coffee).  I know that he's gay, I'm quite sure he knows I'm gay, but something is keeping me from making that move.  He's fucking adorable, if not a bit older (four years, too much?), he's clever, likes to read, and is Irish.  I mean, COME ON.  Seriously.  Fuck, well, this has been fun, but I should probably actually study. . . Perhaps a change in scenery. . . I'm sure I shall update soon.  To put a little Imogen Heap in you're lives, "I feel a weakness coming on."  Listen to her song "The Walk", and I'm going to go study.  Peace.

concerning the changing of my blog's title

It occurred to me when trying to Google my blog to see if anything relevant came that "The State of Confusion" isn't terribly original.  Now, I don't know how good this new one is, but at least I came up with it.  It does, however, do a rather good job of describing me without any details, so I think I like it.  Anyway, considering no one is actually reading this, I'm not sure why I felt is was so urgent to get this explanation typed.  Well, goodnight.

ah, the pressures of blogging

I've spent the past hour and a half, maybe, trying to think of appropriate names and links and URLs and what have you for this blog to maybe have it taken seriously.  Now that I've got it made, I'm quite sure I don't like much of what I came up with, seeing as half of it's recycled garble, and the other half is partially altered recycled garble.  And now that I'm attempting my first blog, here I am, devoid of anything terribly witty or important to say.  Whoops!  Guess it wasn't so important after all, was it?  Well, now that I've got this, I suppose I'll try writing in it as often as I can, regardless of who will actually read it (I anticipate no one).  

Let's get started then.  Some things you might need to know about me:

• I am a 19-year-old college Freshman at LSU, majoring in Creative Writing, minoring in Film & Media Arts.
• I am a young gay man looking for companionship in Southern Louisiana (That wasn't supposed to sound as much like a personal ad as it did).
• My friends are my family, and, generally, my family are my friends.
• I am an artist, in many degrees.  I love to draw, paint, write, etc.  I want to be a film maker.
• I work at a Barnes & Noble.
• I love music, movies, and literature.  Music is like morphine on somedays, like weed on some, or like booze on others.  The right songs mixed with the right moods can either pick me up or spiral me down.  Either way, I can't not listen.
• I hate college.  I hate politics.  I hate a lot of things, hiccoughs being high on the list.
• I would be a bad father.  Good thing I don't plan on reproducing.
• If you read my blog, all these things and more will become apparent.

I think that this has been a successful first blogging.  Hopefully something will prompt more posts, but until then, goodnight.