When I was in the third grade, my Sunday school teacher told me to not get too close to people who didn’t practice our religion, because I wouldn’t see them in Heaven. I had many friends who were Catholic, and as a nine year old, I felt so bummed for them.
When I first started hanging out on the internet nearly two decades ago, I became obsessed with the journals written by people who were planning to amputate an arm or leg. I had no idea that amputation planning journals were a thing and I loved following along as these people I had never met were researching and planning ways to cut off their own limbs. (I know!)
Did you know that there is more than one artist collective made up of women who create paintings using their monthly blood?
Sometimes I get really bummed that I’m 45 years old and I still have so many books to read and so many people to hear about and see!
I once knew a guy who stuttered only when he wasn’t high. I knew another guy who would attend parties as The People’s Poet, meaning he carried little pieces of paper around and delivered on-the-spot poems to anyone who inspired him. A friend once wrote my name on Jim Morrison’s grave when he left college for a semester to see Père Lachaise.
I once took a Wicca class with my best friend where we vocalized our energies and then ate mint chocolate chip ice cream served to us by a woman with a Vulcan haircut. I once acted as a bodyguard for that same friend as she ambled around in a big tiger suit during a fraternity street party.
People. So many wonderful weirdos and reluctant wizards and I hate how often I don’t leave the house.