| i sit here in this chair that i've sat in for so many hours this very day...
however, it's different now than it was this morning or this afternoon...
two broken hearts mended...
two lost souls back together as one...
jacob walcik {jacob@x25.net} | |
| i'm home
so far from here...in a little village near Barcelona
it's rainy, summer is leaving us
everybody home is sleeping
it's just that magical hour
when your thoughts flow easily
i'm thinking about my life
...i've turned 35 this summer
happy birthday fray !
thanks for all
Toni Bigata {tbigata@teleline.es} |
| I'm sorry, but though I am in San Francisco, I did not know about Fray until I just clicked on a link to get to it, and besides the party must be over by now at 3:31 am PST. I am male.
I try to stay up late on the weekends. I thought I would get some green tonight, but the guy is watching fights and getting drunk, so he couldn't come over...tomorrow definitely. I have short, dark hair.
I'm 30 and a year ago I decided to smoke pot for a while, and it is fun indeed. I'm lucky because I can take one single hit and I am set for about four hours. I don't mean just toasty...I mean totally blissful. People hate me for that. I used to have something like time lapses when I smoked...where I would feel about every three seconds like I was just entering consciousness, and for a second I couldn't remember what I was just doing. Like I used to take a sip of a cold drink, and then it would be like I would "wake up" and feel something cold in my throat, and it would take me just about a second to remember what is was. That does not happen much anymore.
The only thing is now I'll get this sneaky suspicion that the upstairs guy will smell the stuff and then call the police, so when I hear him banging around up there I'll tend to look out the window every time a car pulls up. As if I were going to make a break for it or something. I don't know what kind of trouble I could get into, but I tend to imagine the worst, as after smoking I can't handle too much reality. Like I'm scared I'll be naked and the police won't let me get dressed before going to jail; or that I'll be a smartass and say something really stupid that will make things worse, though I'm not the type to do that; or that I'll try to lie or act insane or like I'm having a seizure or something. My eyes are blue (with some red every now and then).
So every now and then I'll stop for a few days just to prove to myself I can stop for a few days, but then I'll start again. I think I've stopped doing the "this is the last time I'll order some" rap, since it never really was true for very long. I'm having a good time, mostly because everything is going so well. I'm happily partnered, the job is good, and TV is more entertaining now. So why knock a good thing? I'm six feet tall.
Troy Chance | |
| Tonight was going to be the night that she flew down from Seattle. We were going to check out Fray Day together.
I was going to tell the story of how we met... lost touch... and found love again 7 years later.
Instead, we broke off our relationship Monday night. I still told my story even though i was numb trying to get through it without crying.
I missed her tonight.
The story was a blur, my mind wasnt there, but I dont regret a thing. I would much rather have shared a blurred story with people, than to try and sleep tonight wondering what it would have been like.
Thanks D, for all your time, energy, and encouragement. Tonight was a night I will remember forever....
The night I spoke at Fray.
Isaac {isaac@funkywhiteboy.com} |
| i am at home. it is 7:49 a.m. one day after fray 3.
i had a great time last night at the party. (as i did last year as well). that real-life extension of an online site demonstrated to me that the fray is more than a spot on the virtual map of the world ... more than the set of experiences of its contributors and its readers ... more than a few hours in a place called The Cell ... it is the common thread which links and binds the many different and fascinating people who have interacted with it.
it is becoming.
congratulations to derek and the many people who have contributed to the fray over the years!
robert fisher {bobf@maria.berkeley.edu} | |
| I am from an island... with thousands of miles away from you. I am alone counting the seconds of every minute... minutes of every hour... hours that turns into a day... days of every week.... long weeks into a month.... months.. oh so many months of pain.
I am alone reminiscing the time and my sole companion -- Jose.
Jose was everything to me night after night - he was my friend, my lover.
I turned to him so badly and found the harbor in the storm. I needed him. He helped me forget that my heart has been crushed into pieces. When his powerful liquid touched my lips and felt a rush of heat, the only thing I could think of was the memory of Jose and I together. His scent was so enticing heady as incense, it lifted my spirits.
I clung to him in a wild frenzy, the roar of my own pounding heart
wiping away everything except the sensation flowing into my body.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Jose was my man. I clung to him during bad times knowing that he would never leave me. I floated in a gauzy cloud of peacefulness and dreamily danced round and round with Jose.
I could danced the night away with my man.
I could shout at the top of my lungs as I held my glass high, and licked, shot and sucked my Cuervo Gold. It was a magnificent ancient ritual.
I reached for him, but my fingers were suddenly empty. And my heart is empty for he left me in one cold cold night.
anne-marie |
| oh how i wish i had an interesting answer for this.
instead, i'm sitting here in Brooklyn, procrastinating before i go to work on a SUNDAY (don't you all LOVE the web?). i am counting down the years until i don't have to do this anymore.
i am counting down the days until my playa love comes to visit (scary, no?)...
i am counting down the hours until this hangover wears off.
i am counting down the minutes until i am completely, thoroughly, positively late for work.
dori {damiana@saranwarp.com} | |
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