Come to bed! And shut off that SENSORY_INPUT_DEVICE

Gaytrix - \ˈgā\-trix - n.; portmanteau conjunction of Gay and Matrix

Gay - if you're here, I probably don't need to define this, do I?
Matrix - referencing the 1999 Wachowski siblings' The Matrix, a science-fiction action film;
The film describes a future in which reality perceived by humans is actually the Matrix, a simulated reality created by sentient machines in order to pacify and subdue the human population while their bodies' heat and electrical activity are used as an energy source. [wiki]

Gaytrix - a present-day reality construct wherein members of a geographically diversified subculture [1, 2, 3] experience sensations of collective conciousness and group-determined emotional lability. Internal reports indicate a perception of 'significant' correlation between positive and negative impacts of life events as spread among members.

No relation to:





I think our shits done be broken. This has been a terribly long weekend - In part due to the actual extra day off, but really as a result of high levels of drama that began their Space Invaders-esque descent sometime around 1600 EDT, Thursday. I seriously don't think that shit stopped for three straight days, multiplying across barbecues and house parties and barstools and SMS and Twitter. It's not just standard queer drama here, either - In a functional Gaytrix/friendverse disaffected Queer A is insulated from the Bastard_World by backup Queers B, C, and however many others it takes through combinations of drinking, poignant jukebox selections, shameless mockery of people within earshot, co-kvetching about similar life shittisms, etc.

None of that is happening right now Bitches be tryin', they do, but there is a fundamental flaw in our logic processing abilities - Essentially, no one is happy. Somehow everything got very scary for errybahdy all at once... I'm beginning to think I might be the de facto 'stable' one - history will serve as our litmus test for that particular notion, eh? Let's dial down the drama here for a second; No one will be offing themselves anytime soon. But it's a scary thing when life can be kicking so many tough bitches in the shins.

All of it is making me wonder what progress I've recently made - I'm tryin' on this job front, honest (that's a whole 'nother post) This Independence Day Weekend, I attended a party thrown by a handsome young attorney - In addition to the holiday weekend, the party was also to celebrate the end of the attorney's cohabitation with his ex-boyfriend. I know this brand of party well - I had one last year, on Bastille Day. Hell, I even invited my ex-boyfriend. It was a great party, one that I thought would clear my head and add some levity to the fact that my life as I knew it had essentially ended. It worked - and if you had asked me on that day 20 questions that required me to predict what I would be doing this July, I doubt a single one of the guesses would be correct.

Rule #1 of traveling via handbasket: Never ask where you're going.
Rule #2 of traveling via handbasket: Know that if you are in the handbasket, you need to get out.