Dear Ms. Leading,

I regret to inform you I've fallen out of lust.
It must be so hard to understand.
Did you really think me a fool enough to play along?
And make believing everything you said was true
Push your pouting lips on other unsuspecting lovers

The Dear Hunter


"Hello me are you in there, making sure you're not dead, smelled some rotting flesh"

My experiences have led me to believe that sex is not sacred.
Which is completely acceptable in our society (by some) but what I don't accept is how it's also led me to such a strange disconnect with my body.
My body is no longer sacred.

There's something not right there.
Rather, there's EVERYTHING not right there.

Several weeks ago, I had a dream about having an outer body experience.
Not like the ones I wrote about in the last post, but more spiritual... and disturbing.
My soul separated from my body and washed it.
My soul scrubbed my body until it was raw and red.
And then it raped my body.

I just read a short story from the book "We So Seldom Look on Love," by Barbara Gowdy (1997).
It was a personal essay by a necrophiliac.
It made me wonder what the connection with a body and sex is.
Sex is pleasure and it doesn't necessarily matter who it is with... at least for some people in this world.
I personally have that disconnect with body/sex/love. I'm not saying I'm completely comfortable with it, as my dream may obviously tell me, but it's just how I am at the moment.

After a discussion with my class that this reading was assigned to, I'm left to wonder why I don't think my body is sacred.
Most of the women in the class think their bodies are.
One woman in particular said, "I've been taking care of and reclaiming my body for as long as I've been alive. So it damn better be mine even when I die."

Another woman linked this to a line in a poem we read the first day of class.
"Maybe to truly understand sex, one must be fully destroyed by it."

It's a lot for me to think about.
Especially after my Jekyll & Hyde battle just last night.

Driven by pure desire, it seems that Hyde always wins.


"There's a man assigned to me and he checks on my stability."

Ever had your body just switch to autopilot?

My autopilot switches on and the old me is screaming, "Stop. Don't you remember me?"

It's like an outer body experience, but weirder, 'cause it's really 18 year old me just watching destructive 22 year old me.

I'm just waiting for the day when my Jekyl & Hyde fuse and stop fighting.
Can't stand the fighting.


It's the case of "Dani California" vs. "Mary Jane's Last Dance" all over again...

The new album, "Hot Mess," by Cobra Starship is awesome upon first listen.
A really great, upbeat pop album.

But as I listened to it again, I realized...


Jack'd #1:
"Living in the Sky with Diamonds," has the same, "Oh, oh here she comes," lyrics and melody as Hall & Oats', "Maneater."

What. the. fuck.

Jack'd #2:
"The Scene is Dead; Long Live the Scene", has the same melody as "American Girl" by Tom Petty... with a sliiight variation in lyrics.
You all know the, "Oh yeah. Alright. Take it easy, baby. Make it last all night..." Tom Petty-goodness. Cobra throws their fangs in and claims that little melody as well.

I don't know if it was done on purpose, if they have the rights to it, if it doesn't matter because it's only a part of a song or if anyone even noticed like I did, but GODDAMN.
I'm not going to analyze this album any longer, because I'm afraid of what else I'll find.

Cobra Starship, I'm throwing my fangs down and suspending you from my playlists for a while...


"She's a maneater, make you work hard, make you spend hard, make you want all of her love."

It's strange what boredom and a semester of Women Studies classes can do to you.

The trailer for the new Diablo Cody movie, "Jennifer's Body," has left me to wonder-
Is this a feminist movie?

First thing about it: Love, love, love the premise.
The movie is about a demonic girl that feasts on dickweed guys.
Fuck yeah. Reminds me a lot of the movie, "Teeth," where the girl's vagina has teeth and rips penises right off of the toolbags that they were growing on.

Makes me feel all warm and tingly. Basically because the penis is so often seen as a weapon. Fucking "Teeth" vagina taking that weapon away definitely makes that a feminist movie, at least in that sense. (One can argue against that on the point of how it makes women and vaginas look like monsters.)

Apparently, I'm not the only one who was moved to link "Jennifer's Body" to feminism (of course not) as I came across this article while web browsing.

And while I hate Diablo Cody and her stupid tattoos, hairdo and over the top (but refreshingly gender neutral) pseudonym, the trailer and article make me want to see the movie to decide for myself.
I know I see myself as a feminist with my liberal, "guy-like" views on sex, but sometimes I wonder if it's really a feminist view.
Especially since about half of the time, I feel guilty about liking it.

My verdict so far?
Feminist, even if it is really un-feminist-like to kill men.
Feminism is really about wanting equality for all and not about separating differences even more with hate.

However, seeing terrible men getting FUCKING RIPPED APART by a sexy Megan Fox, makes me think that it might not be more than a horror film trying to appeal to everyone.

I'll have to see it in order to make my final decision.

Oh, and also, Adam Brody appears in the movie.

. . . a "feminist" ::drool:: of course.


"All my friends think that I'm gone, but I swear, I swear I'm not."

One fear that has slowly crept up on me over the past several years is the fear of never being taken seriously.

Let's face it. I joke around way too much. I'm inappropriate at the WORST times. I'm immature as fuck, so I fall for immature guys. And sex sometimes runs my life.

It's nice to be able to make people laugh by climbing things and being a bitch to guys at the bar just because I can... but damn.

It miiiight be because I don't take myself too seriously.
Actually, I don't take myself seriously at all.
Is this the root of all of my self esteem issues?
Holy shit I think I've hit the mother load of insecurities.
I've found the mama insecurity.
It's what makes me never back out of a dare, talk way too openly about sex and cry over the fact that when people are bored with me, they move on.

But hey, I guess at least I make people laugh.
Fuck my ass is going numb from sitting around and doing nothing.


"My darling I'm taking my life back to start healing."

I've met a lot of interesting people this summer.
A man who said I look like a pixie.
A woman who thinks ghosts are inside of her.
A man that told me I was too young for him anyway and he wouldn't get between me and my boyfriend (I was unaware I had one...).

But, the most fascinating person I've met in a while has to be R.P., one of the residents I have had the pleasure of meeting through the agency I work with.

He doesn't have outbursts or behavior problems.
He plays basketball while listening to Bayside.
He's only 20 years old.
And living in a group home.
He was diagnosed with bipolar disorder along with schizophrenia.

When we were waiting in the clinic, he started warming up to me.
"What kind of music do you listen to?"
"Everything, really. I heard you playing Bayside, 30 Seconds to Mars and Atreyu earlier."
"Yeah. You like them?"
"Those bands basically define my adolescence."
"Well here, let's see if you know this song."

He handed me his MP3 player and quizzed me on the names of the songs and bands as he went through all of his music.

"I never met anyone who listens to all the stuff that I do."
"Yeah that was mostly the stuff I got into for years. Then I worked at my college radio station and expanded my music taste."
"You worked at a radio station? That's so cool."

R.P. aspires not to be a businessman that makes a lot of money, but rather, just a regular guy. A guy that drives, gets a job and lives on his own.

"If I win the lottery, I'm buying all of the staff new cars. And even you 'cause you're really cool."

Later that night, he made himself dinner and offered me some.
He looked at me and said, "Do you think one day I'll be able to be in the apartment program like the people you work with?"
He broke my heart right then and there. This kid is determined.

"I'm glad I have the disorders I have and that I'm learning to manage them now. This way when I'm older I can drive and have a car and live in an apartment. I mean, I hear voices and stuff but I've been hearing them all of my life and now as long as I take my medicine I'm fine. I think I'll be outta here by next year."

He's great.
I hope he is.


"All I ever did was look up to you."

I'm not quite sure why, but some days are more difficult than others.
Maybe it's because I'm reminded of them through something.

"Tropic Thunder" was on HBO last night.
I don't remember who I saw it with or where I saw it.
But of course I'm reminded of them.
It's the quotes, the Ben Stiller attitude of "No one makes me bleed my own blood," (Dodgeball)
It's the fact that I can picture them and hear them.

And then I remember all of the good things and how they made me laugh.
Which is quickly followed by how much they made me cry and how hard it was to delete them out of my phone book... again, knowing it's the last time.
But I still remember their phone number because I had it memorized in 11th grade. I used to call them from my house phone in my room, laying on my bed laughing and missing them.
And then there's when I snuck out of drama practice to go make out with them.
And how I had to sneak past my co-actors to get to my after school bus because they thought I already went home for a dentist appointment.
And ice skating when you wouldn't hold my hand. So I cried.
And then the park and the "Spiderman" kiss. Then you broke up with me a week later.

Why am I even writing this?
I guess it kinda helped.

I have to keep pushing forward. I just hate that I have all of these memories and they mean quite a deal more to me than they ever meant to them.

"Bat your eyes, ball a fist and swing, swing, swing, swing... just swing."


"Doctor, doctor, what am I here for?"

"Can I help you?"
"Yes I have an appointment with Dr. [blank] for 12."
"Emily Harding."
"Okay, Emily have a seat. He'll be with you shortly."

Fox News is on. Ugh.
Maybe I have a thyroid problem?
Do they really have to bash Obama so much? I mean, he really JUST got into office. Give the sexy black man a break.
I hate this channel.
I wonder if they'd scold me for changing it.
Has it really been 20 minutes? And that guy came in and got called right away. Nice.
Well I guess I'll just start texting everyone I know.
... and no one answers me. What? Does everyone have a life that I'm unaware of?
I'm going to kill this fat receptionist. Her voice is shrill and irritating and her laugh is nauseating.
12:33 Really? Really.

"Excuse me. Miss?"
"You're here to see Dr. [blank] right?"

Why is the receptionist pushing for me to be seen?
He has a Yeah Yeah Yeahs ringtone. Maybe he knows we share a liking for Karen O and her beer-spitting performances.

"Emily Harding."
"Come this way... I only had half of my bagel!"

Maybe this time he'll get to me soon. There's no one else here. It's a Saturday.

"So what brings you in?"
"I've been feeling light-headed and dizzy lately and it's been kinda hard to breathe."
"Okay well just get onto the scale... okay now I'll take your blood pressure... How is it outside?"

Great. Small talk.

"It's really nice out. Not too hot. Kinda breezy."
"It was so weird. This morning I woke up with a headache around 7 and it was raining. Actually I went to bed with a headache as well. I've been getting really bad headaches lately. Well, he'll be in to see you shortly."

Wow. Thank you for your detailed description of your cerebral woes. I'm really a better person now for enduring that story.
And now she's complaining about the half of a bagel to someone again. This woman just loves to complain.
And again, the bagel.
I hear my doctor's voice next door. Guess that's his office. Sounds like he's talking to his family on the phone about their car or something. Really "doctor"? You have a patient in the room next to you.
Oh wow. My skin is terrible. Why do they have this mirror in here? And why is the lighting so harsh? Gross, Em. Gross.
Really tired of waiting. I should've just went to So convenient and fast.
Good thing I've been waiting to see the doctor for an hour. I would've never found this splinter.
I'm cured.
I only have two hairs on my right thumb knuckle. Weird.
Oh look. A window. My escape? I really don't care what might be wrong with me anymore. Fuck this noise.
I should just leave. He's still talking about nonsense next door.
"Bone density." Don't care. "Adults who have had chicken pox as a child are more at risk for shingles." Ah fuck something else to worry about.

"Hello? The door's locked."

Great. I finally get to see the doctor and they locked me in here.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize."
"It's okay sometimes it locks by itself."

Good to know if I was bleeding you'd be able to save me, doctor. You know, with your speedy appearance and unlocked doors.

"So what seems to be the problem?"
*Repeat symptoms*
"Say 'ahh.'"
"Any experiences with asthma as a child?"
"It's probably just stress. Breathe deeply. Again. Again. Again. Any rapid weight loss or gain?"

Thanks for reminding me.

"I did gain some weight."
"Any pain in the back?"

Well when you're poking me in the back right now, so yes.

"Lay back. Any pain in the stomach?"

Ummmm yes, now there is.

"Well I'll order an EKG test. Then when that's done meet me next door."

Again. I'm alone in this room.
Oh good he's talking to a nurse.
Please don't be the same nurse with the headaches and bagels.
Oh good. A different one. She's wheeling a cart. Cool.

"Okay ever have one of these before?"
"Alright then. I have all these sticky things to stick onto you and then I hook ya up to this thing."
"Lift up your shirt. No more than that."

Sticky... hope it doesn't hurt ripping off the ones on my arm hair. Why do people shave their arms anyway?

"Okay looks good. You can just go next door."

His office is terrible. Nic-nacs and chachkies everywhere. What the fuck is that? A smiling carrot with carrot legs and arms. You've got to be fucking kidding me. That Buddha is pretty cool though.

"Okay so your last blood tests were fine. It's probably just stress. I can prescribe you something but it'll make you gain weight."


"What is it?"
"Uhh no thanks. Already on stuff like that. I see a nurse practitioner."
"Oh okay. Well then just take it easy and relax. If anything else happens, come on back."

Almost two hours and you diagnose "stress."

. . .


"Anna Lucia drinks rum for revenge. Thinks of her cowboy all covered in red. Then she goes dancing."

High point of the week: Sunday 8/2 @ All Points West in Jersey City, trudging through mud and listening to Mogwai and Coldplay. Almost cried I was so happy.

Low point of the week: Realizing that people are disillusioned when they meet me. They think I'm so "different." It happens all the time. Maybe I'm just good at adapting to what people like and once they realize it's not truly me, that's when they get disappointed and leave.

How do I let all of myself show?
How do I let go?


"Testosterone boys and harlequin girls."


+ I have told a guy that I had a baby when I was 17 years old and gave it up for adoption.
+ Had a friend act like a jealous boyfriend to scare off a dumb-as-dirt guy.
+ Told another that I didn't care that his penis was 3 inches long. Erect.
+ Acted like I was interested in what a guy was saying.
+ Lied about how I'd give one guy another chance. (Pfffft.)
+ Faked phone sex. Twice.
+ And the icing on the sweet cake of deceit, "I have herpes," as an answer to, "When are we playing?"
That prevented the 28 year old Manhattan dweller from sending me any more pictures of himself in questionable poses and stopped our conversation completely.

My justification? These guys deserved it.

Just call me Harley Quinn... but a less whiny, more badass Harley Quinn.

P.S. "Harley’s need to be loved, to have company and affection. Her need to be wanted. Her active sex drive!"