. . . arianainlove: confessions of a bisexual polyamorist . . .






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Most recent entries:
* it’s not lake merritt’s fault I wrote this poem
* the wrestler misses your bed
* Travelling With My Love In A Catholic Country
* Rising Into Love With You
* Poems Composed on 880 North / In the Middle of the Night / In the Storm

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Visit My Massage Website:
Present Touch Massage:
Ariana Waynes, CMT

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Love these ones, too:
Apocalypse Angel
Cubicle Girl
Dipti
Orangepeeler
Marty McConnell
Perceptions
PostSecret
Roger Bonair-Agard
Sriram
Wammo

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Learn the truth:
Common Dreams
The Nation
Democracy Now
KPFA
Michael Moore

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Friendly Warning:
I don't update my diary every day.
Sign up to be notified when I do.
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Furthermore, the notes are not automated - they are all written personally by me. So, you get an extra note/memo/letter (depending on my mood), in which I might just wax philosophic on any number of topics that seem relevant, preferably in a few sentences or less. Or I might talk about how it feels that you all are in this journey with me or I might talk about updates to the site. But whether I say very much or very little on any given day, it feels more personal. Like I'm talking directly to you. I feel more connected to the folks on the notifylist. There, I've said it.

01.25.03 - 10:27 p.m.
alternately dark and cheery

caress me. my thigh is not the face of god. you can touch it. i won’t condemn you.
don’t look away from my gasping, my raw throat blistering, then melting
against the sun. i am your unholy confederate. the illegitimate, the last-call,
2am alley girl with jeans that disintegrated in your palm, lines of brick singed black
into my back. you know what i’m talking about. you know who you are.
i have heard the word whore before. don’t think i have not. don’t think
i haven’t heard my grandmother’s prayers. my soul has not decided on a god
so don’t you decide, either, to deify or demonize me. i don’t believe in the guilt
trap, that self-induced hell-fire and what-have-you. the flames tattooing my cheek
have the memory of slaps, ear-claps, beatings and the screeching and screamings
that were their own kind of baseball bats to the skull, but i never did, never would
raise a hand to myself in anger. never fashioned my voice into a noose, nor
strung myself up for some juvenile god to have his way with me
no matter how many times my jeans came down or skirt went up.
no matter what gravel bit its way into my calloused knees and palms,
fused with my flesh, no matter what stone grows in me still.

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now, all of that being said, the real news is that the last entry i wrote was all for nonce. it didn't happen. after all of that. something was wrong with the pancreas. so we're still waiting. and i was so looking forward to the part where my beloved friend is all immobile and requires 24-hour bedside care and companionship . . . alas . . . i must wait longer for that sacred duty . . .

and, more recently i've spent the last week seriously super duper sick (at least for an ariana) in bed just about twenty-four seven for days and days, with a temperature of over a hundred and three degrees and a puking episode or two and everything! oh, fun for me! but it seems to be getting better, slowly, finally.

and! i'm taking a computer hardware class (on a lark) at laney, a community college really near by. And it's super-terrific fun. i'm learning all kinds of new things that i never knew before. and our teacher is fabulous and the entire half-semester class is like the price of dinner. one dinner. for one person. and i *love* computers. i've always just had the greatest affection for them. ::sigh::

okay. done now. leave me love, please. i'm still a little bit sick! (which is just my excuse, really, to encourage you to wipe your sweet little feet on my guestbook when you come or go, cuz it makes me feel so yummy inside. the link is below. it says "this is where the love goes.") thanks. love ya!

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. . . last week * tomorrow . . .

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it really means a lot to me when you say hello after stopping by.
please do.
then check back later, for i may have responded to your message.

suddenly, i'm wanting this guestbook to be a forum for further dialogue.
help me with this, please, by saying hi and/or sharing your thoughts.
you can do this every time you come. why not?