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rough recordings, not rough recordings, no matter what pops up, please check it out. Covers, original material, anything that's there. If it sounds shit, if it sounds good- it's me. No mixing, no overdubs, no crap. Anything to get it out there, please spread the word. I (and by I, me, etc I mean Effy) want to be heard!

Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine

credit for this wonderful banner goes to the awesome jettakd. Thanks bb!

best tracker


I had my first English pub experience today, AND I saw the T.A.R.D.I.S in a BBC building down the street

just found this...

Chaz stared at the hospital ceiling, trying to hold back the desire to count the tiny dots or the "beeps" in the background. Instead he concentrated on breathing. It was a good thing to concentrate on, Corey told him. Well, Joel told him that, too, but since Corey was his therapist, he listened to him more. That was probably a bad thought process. Very bad indeed. Joel was a good psychiatrist, he made a lot of money. And he loved Joel. So much it hurt. So much that he refused to see him, now that he'd lost their new baby. Because he knew it was his fault. Joel had been trying desperately to get him to eat, and he had been trying to. But not hard enough.

He knew it was his fault the baby died. He was starving himself to death, and this was the first sign. He'd felt like he'd eaten a lot, but logically...well. He knew it wasn't. He should have listened to Joel. He was at one of the lower weights he'd been at in years. A fact pointed out in many discussions. Many angry discussions.
They never talked about weight. Not usually. Normally it was a subject Joel knew not to bring up.

Joel hadn't even come to the hospital to see him yet.

That was the part that hurt the most. The baby was already dead. The weight was already gone. But Joel...he had talked about forbidden subjects. And talked. And talked. And now he wasn't there to talk anymore. Where was he?

Chaz stared at the ceiling, trying not to count the dots. Concentrate on breathing. It's the right thing to...

"You've gained two pounds since you've been here" He turned. A familiar dark head of hair, green eyes, mouth pressed into a frustrated line. Joel. He was here.

Keep breathing. Keep breathing.

"They've been tubing me." Chaz said shortly.

"Good." Joel was going to be stubborn. Chaz expected this.

"I missed you." Chaz wasn't going to be stubborn.

There was silence. One of the more painful silences of their relationship. Chaz knew this hurt Joel, but he also knew Joel had every idea how much pain Chaz himself was in. It was always Chaz that wanted the children. Joel just went along for the ride, he was always the more "masculine" one, the "traditional" one, the one raised in the human world to be a "man". Chaz had taken easily to his role in their new world, both man and woman, neither man nor woman, superior to both. When they'd had Vivienne, Joel had marveled at him. So he had to know how badly it hurt Chaz to lose a baby. He had to.

"Alex." Joel spoke softly. "I'm not angry."
That was a shock. Chaz lifted his head.

"But you've left me here..."

"I was wrong. But I'm not angry. I am...frustrated. I want you to get help again, though."

Chaz held his breath and looked back up at the ceiling.

"Breathe, Alex. Alex! Breathe with me- in...out...in...good. There's a place nearby that will do outpatient with you. I've talked to them already."

"No inpatient?"

"Not yet." Joel gave him a stern look.

Chaz sighed. "Do I have a choice?"

"You always have a choice."

Chaz looked up again. The holes in the ceiling looked bigger. one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight...

just keep breathing.

hmmm. I miss my boys, I think I'll write more. they've disappeared lately, I think they're hiding from my fucked up-ness. maybe they'll come out of their reclusive lifestyle once I'm back in VA.
new Damon Baker photoshoot w/ the flawless Andrej.


Enter to be jealousCollapse )


le source


because I am only a pawn. My feelings, my life, do not matter as much as theirs. My regrets, my pain, is nothing.

I am...

...I'm nothing.

Writer's Block: Friday the 13th

Do you believe in any superstitions?

too many, but not any at the same time? I mean black cats, no. Walking under a ladder, no. But mirrors in the bedroom and open doors and stuff, is that counted? Or does that just fall under feng shui/ paranoia?

Regardless I can't have mirrors facing outward in the bedroom, though I just realized my music box that's open and has been has one- eek. And all doors have to be closed. Closets, doors to other rooms, everything.

idk it counts to me anyways.

Writer's Block: American idol

What is the one song you must sing at karaoke?

Um pretty sure everyone knows that "Livin' on a Prayer" is THE Karaoke song. DUH.

Or, you know..."Is that amateurs singing Journey?"

"Is that Journey?"

"Do I hear Journey?"


Writer's Block: Love to hate

Who are your favorite television or movie villains? What makes them so deliciously evil?

Anything Alan Rickman or Jason Isaacs have done has been deliciously evil and sexy at the same time. Ralph Fiennes is also amazing as a villian. He's so hot IRL but when he's in character...*shiver*
I just bought something my parents would yell at me for. But it's something I wanted and something that I would have wanted for ages. It's superficial and stupid but you know what? It's my money, and I did it for myself.

I'm sick of using my money for things I'm expected to use it for. And obviously I'm sick of bills/paying for gas/ etc but that isn't avoidable. So I used 30 bucks of my money for something unpredictable, something I wanted, do want, will want, and something that isn't necessary.

I guess this is what they call a "splurge"?

Whatever. I feel good about it.

Writer's Block: Next stop: Hollywood

Which book that you've read would make a great movie, and why? Who would you pick to play the main characters?

Wintergirls. Wasted. Nourishment. Pretty much any of my fav ED books. Needs to happen tbh.
Moving week. Sad. Weird. Different. I don't think I'll really cry until about 2 weeks after moving...I don't think it's going to hit me until then.

I grew up in this house. I'm currently staying in the guest bedroom, which was my childhood bedroom. I had to clean everything out of the bedroom downstairs that I spent my teenage life in.

So many memories. A mobile over my head in this exact bed, in this exact position in the room. Then, changing the walls from pink. Dancing on my bed to the Now and Then soundtrack. Cutting in this room. Developing in this room. Spending hours at my desk drawing and writing.

And then downstairs...exercising for hours after eating an apple and a mediocre dinner all day, pictures of thin people all over my walls. Queer as Folk. My ratties. Senior year, where my bed was angled all weird. Coming back from Truman and watching Family Guy. Hiding diet pills and laxatives and lying in bed thinking I was dying from a heart attack after overdosing on them.

Bad memories, good memories, there are so many here. Winters with Steph, sledding. Autumns having bonfires, going camping with the fam, camping in the back yard! Raking leaves just to jump in them. The swingset. Grandfather tree, pretending to be Indians hiding in the woods from one another.

This has always been "Home Base". I've moved from state to state, trying to find myself. I've been to treatment centers. I've gone to college. But this has always been here.

It won't be anymore. It's not going to be my house, my shower, my bath, my yard, my closet, my life.

It's gone.

This is so hard.

to look forward to: Having mom around again. Joining a gym in Waco. Having a car out there. Eating healthier. Losing weight. A social life (hopefully, oh jeeze!). More church functions. A pond in our backyard! Buying new furniture and getting to decorate the way we want to. Applying to schools and moving on with my life.

Virginia, I love you, but you're holding me down. <3

Feb. 14th, 2011

So over stans, especially when they stan someone as stupid as Lohan or Vanessa Hudgens. No, they do not look good, yes, they are morons.

Jesus fuck I wish the world would grow a brain. Ugh.

Feb. 9th, 2011

in the past two weeks, I've had my Effexor dose cut from 300 to 150. All of a sudden, I'm feeling things. I didn't realize I wasn't until now. I was numb. There was a dull ache that told me I was unhappy with my life, unhappy in general, yet I just couldn't FEEL it. When I was angry, I couldn't truly feel fury. When I was sad, I wasn't devastated or even truly SAD. I could compare my feelings to a vast desert- wind occasionally blowing things around a bit, but nothing truly changing.

Now, all of a sudden, the past two years have come crashing down on me. I'm crying over everything. I want to play guitar again. I'm looking at schools to go back to.

I know I'm not out of the dark, not by far. But I'm actually SEEING the dark, instead of being engulfed by it, all of a sudden.

it's terrifying.

Writer's Block: Super Bowl XLV

Are you watching the Super Bowl this year? If not, how will you enjoy the day? If you are watching, how will you be celebrating the game?

I got up the balls to go with the church group, and was reminded of why I don't do social activities anymore. Because no one likes me and I'm not worth being liked anyways. I felt lonely and worthless the entire time, I fell into "sarcasm mode", I'm pretty sure most of them hated me because of it, none of them really made me feel welcome yet I was afraid to leave because I knew as soon as the door closed it would be "WHO was that crazy weirdo?", and I just wanted to curl up in a ball and sob.

So I plan on spending the entirety of tomorrow in bed, in my place. Bed is where people like me belong, until we die of loneliness.

I don't want to live my life like this. I just don't understand how to be human anymore. I know how to exchange pleasantries. I know how to be charming. I know how to get my way in social situations. I can get guys to buy drinks for me, I can put on pretty much any facade. But when it comes to real things, like...tonight. I can't.

I'm never going to have friends again. The few I still have are all I have left. And that breaks my heart. Shatters it, really.

I'm so sick of being me.
I've been restricting like hell for a month, and I know I've lost weight, yet my pants still fit the exact same or tighter. what the hell is going on? Why am I still just as fucking fat when I'm starving the fuck out of myself and afraid to touch food? All I do is drink and eat dinner, which I absolutely cannot avoid, living with just my dad. I walk every day and do pilates. I see a difference in myself. And yet I'm still fatass clothes size and still a fucking. fatass.

fml smh at myself.
People are assholes. But I choose to see the good in the people that I am around, and simply allow those who are so wrapped up in their own selfishness and anger, their inability to see how they affect people, their mistakes (so clearly written in front of them, yet so bitterly ignored) that they won't accept, to float by me.

It's going to be a difficult thing to do. But I need to do it for my own peace of mind. I can't keep letting myself get hurt by people that are so self centered that my own well being is sacrificed every single time. My self image and self esteem have been shattered by these people so many times that I have starved myself, been addicted to diet pills, laxatives, self harm, smoking, I mean fuck. I've carved words- hateful, horrible words- into my own skin from self loathing. It isn't right that I have let myself be degraded into believing these things, that I've allowed myself to think there's something intrinsically wrong with me, instead of there possibly being something wrong with the fucks who have hurt me.

It's time to start climbing and learning to love myself, and fuck anyone who wants to make me hate who I am.

What would Bill Nye do?
Shit has gone dooooown. UMW made me leave for ED and depression. I've gained a lot of weight since then. Am working on losing it again.

Pretty down on myself lately but I'm working on that, too.

Working in Ashland, at The Station Cafe. I like it. I need another job along with it.

I hate EDs and depression. I hate men who don't get why they make you feel so shitty. I hate being poor.

But I'll figure it out. People make mistakes...and we get over them. That's life, right?
36 year old boss. 43 year old musician.

Yeeaaah, even with the weight gain of stupid proportions, I've still got it. Fuck yeah, bitches.

these lyrics feel oddly familiar.

Rain falls, it don't
Touch the ground
I can recall
An empty house
You say I'm fixed
But I still feel broken...
Broken, lights on
Lights off
Nothing works
I'm cool
I'm great
I'm a jerk
I feed myself lies
With words left unspoken
Gonna be Ok
Gonna be Ok
One day
One day

That day never came
That day
Never comes
I'm not letting go
I keep hangin on
Everybody says
That time heals the pain
I've been waiting forever
That day never came

You said I'd be...comin home
They said, "he's fine left alone"
The screams in my mind
I keep them a secret...
A secret
Doctors and your promises
Psychics, healers
I've seen the best
Whatever they sell
Sure to know how to deal with it
Gonna be Ok
Gonna be Ok
One day
One day

That day never came
That day
Never comes
I'm not letting go
I keep hangin on
Everybody says
That time heals the pain
I've been waiting forever, forever
That day never came

Gonna be Ok
Gonna be Ok
One day

That day never came
That day
Never comes
I'm not letting go
I keep hangin on
Everybody says
That time heals the pain
I've been waiting forever, forever
That day never came
That day never came