Cassandra Disque | August 29, 2002
For the past ten years, I have been losing my identity. I have been saying ten years for the past three years, but now that I am 21, it really is ten years. Since I was 11. Since adolescence. Since my first menses. Since I was raped. I have been lost. I have been trying [...]
Cassandra Disque | August 26, 2002
Two Sonata and an hour later and I know that I am really fucked because the sleep just does not come, I try and try and try and it does not come and I fall a little further into this and I see its face and I know its name, and yes, it is an [...]
Cassandra Disque | August 24, 2002
Walking north on Colesville Road last night was a group of about six high school aged punks, beautiful in their bondage pants, mohawks and t-shirts. I slowed down, gave a little squeal, was listening to Iggy Pop, wanted to wave but looked down and realized they would have laughed at me. Somewhere in the last [...]
Cassandra Disque | August 24, 2002
“All men are created with equal time. Father time has got to be the richest make believe individual that never lived. A man who knows what to do with his time is a man, I guess, that is up in the front of the line. In the course of the day a man can make [...]
Cassandra Disque | August 23, 2002
I really need somebody to talk to right now, though I am not sure what I would say. I have been staring at my journal for the last half an hour, speechless. Prior to that I was staring at my vodka bottle, and prior to that, into the refridgerator — staring down old vices and [...]
Since 1996, my life has been a long journey of visiting one doctor after another. I look more or less fine, but I'm not. My daily pill count is like playing the dozens with a hospice patient. One doctor will say I'm doomed, and send me to another for treatment, but the treating doctor will find nothing within his or her area of practice that can be treated.
My life is better than a comedy, better than a drama. Anyone who has done this knows what I mean when I say that you have to not only know the rules, but also play the part in order to be allowed in the game. Most people find what we go through in the medical merry-go-round to be unbelievable, which is why I call it "The Drag of Gimp."
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