A Queer Life

I bought some shoes from a drug dealer. I don’t know what he laced them with, but I’ve been tripping all day! Hello my pretties! I'm contemplating how being raised Mormon is still affecting how I interact with the world.  At eight years old I was taught a formulaic prayer to cast out evil spirits. One time when my dad came home and found four of us kids angry and fighting, he had us kneel in a circle and we each took turns praying that exorcist prayer until we felt the spirit of anger leave our home.  I don't know how old I was when I heard the story of the three Nephites who in 32 BC asked Jesus for the blessing to live forever so they could spend a millennia spreading the gospel. Subsequently, I heard lots of stories in church from people swearing that some stranger approached them to give them exactly what they were looking for and they just knew that person was one of the three Nephites.  There was also the idea that if I prayed with a pure heart with real intent God ...

I asked the gym instructor if he could teach me to do the splits. He replied, “How flexible are you?” I said, “I can’t make it on Tuesdays.” Hello my pretties! I am not so young anymore and the rule is: if you are older than thirty, you should get off the internet, or at least don't hang out in young spaces and taint all the young people with your oldness, especially if you are commenting and stating how old you are to a bunch of young people. That is basically like spreading cooties on the playground.  Well, I'm about to be the playground cooties spreader.  I'm not so young anymore (I won't state my age, but let's just say I could by my kid's grandmother.) And as I get older I'm noticing changes: my skin is not beautiful anymore. Which is weird, because I never thought my skin was beautiful, but now that it's gone, it was beautiful. My never muscular body has lost all of its muscle definition. I get rashes all the time (is that an age thing? It feels li...