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Aug. 2nd, 2006 | 02:07 pm
location: Emerald Isle, North Carolina
mood: hota bit overheated.
music: moi... lolita (alizée)

People have been asking to see what I wrote while at gov school for a while now, so... I figured I may as well post the only piece that I finished there. And here it is.

My name is Virginia Leigh Livingstone and a lot of the time grown ups and such tell me I’m the nicest girl in Chestnut, Georgia. Not that that’s really hard, because there aren’t many girls inside Chestnut, Georgia and most of them are kind of on the mean side, if you know what I mean. My momma calls them ‘loquacious,’ but they’re not, they’re just catty, and I don’t think that Momma knows what loquacious means, because otherwise she wouldn’t call those girls that. Most of the girls in Chestnut are really nasty and catty and that’s why it’s not hard for me to be the nicest girl here. Except for Silly. She’s my best friend. Her full name is Priscilla Spencer, but we call her Silly because Priscilla is a bit of a mouthful and Prissy just doesn’t suit her well. Silly is the nicest, humblest girl around, and I think that she should get that title. People only call me that ’cause I’m the reverend’s daughter and they think they have to.

See, in Chestnut, things usually work in the same way all the time. We’re like one big family, Daddy calls it a circle of love. Everybody is in this circle and they depend on each other and the center of the circle has to hold it together. In Chestnut, my family, we Livingstones, are the center of the circle. Daddy is the center because he’s the reverend and he helps the whole town spiritually, anybody who needs help. And then there’s Momma, who helps run the church and is a teacher at the elementary school and she helps second graders. And my sister Maureen and me are the last at the center, because we help run the church bake sales and the garden club and we are in charge of teaching the Sunday school. We’re busy, we’re always in the middle of things, our family. Everybody else is equal distance from us, all the down, just how a circle in geometry class is a set of points an equal distance from a center point. Then, of course, there are a few people flying off tangent, but we always try to reel them back in. That’s why they say nice things about us, because we’re the center of the circle. They don’t have to, they say nasty things about Maureen and me sometimes. Usually what they say about Maureen is true.

Not me, though. I’m not mean and nasty like some people say. If I’ve ever done a mean thing intentionally in my life, it was because of Cam. Cameron Carlin MacAllister, that is. He was corrupting me something awful because I have a young and impressionable mind like most girls do. I personally think that Cam was a real mean person and I never had a problem with anything until he starting saying things about me that weren’t true, like how he told Silly not to buy my ultra-Christian bull s-h-you-know-the-rest and that I was a hypocrite and he knew it. I thought that that was real mean of him cause I was just trying to be nice and see to it that he doesn’t end up like his daddy.

It all started on a really nice Sunday morning in May, and I had to get a drink real bad and left church during Daddy’s sermon to use the water fountain. And he was sitting there, on the steps by the fountain, smoking a cigarette and grinning at me.

“Skipping Daddy’s sermon?” he asked while I was taking a drink, real rude and mocking-like. I pretended not to hear him and asked him to excuse me. He repeated himself. He was watching me when I wiped the water away from my mouth, staring at me like I had three heads or something.

“I needed a drink,” I told him, real matter-of-fact, “And you shouldn’t smoke in here. You’ll set off the alarms.”

Then – you wouldn’t believe it – he shrugged at me and tossed his cigarette on the ground and put it out on the carpet! He left a burn stain there, too. I was very upset by his disrespect, but I didn’t show him. He would have thought me being mad about him ruining my daddy’s church’s carpet was real funny. Then, he said,

“Doesn’t that bother you at all?”

I told him, just as matter-of-fact, that he didn’t bother me. I could hear that I had missed the end of Daddy’s sermon and the congregation was reciting the Nicene Creed, so I opened the door to go back into the church. And he said, real cheeky, “Well, not as much as he does.” And he waved his head towards my father, like I was real bothered by my own father!

I didn’t say anything back, I just left and went back to sit with Momma and listen to the rest of the service.

● ● ●


I knew that Cameron Carlin MacAllister was picking on me not too long after that when I was walking home from the record store. I’d gone there to buy the new Rolling Stones album. I like them a lot, but my parents don’t know cause they think that they write songs about being evil. I don’t listen to that “Sympathy for the Devil” song because it does sound evil, but some of their other songs are good. I was carrying the album in my purse and it was raining. I was wearing a blue raincoat.

Cam was driving his car and he pulled up along the sidewalk and honked at me. It made me jump.

“Hey little miss,” he said to me once he’d got his window rolled down. I glared at him. I didn’t want to talk to him after what he did to the carpet in the church. “You wanna ride?”

“No,” I said, real forceful, so that he knew I meant it. He gave me a real jaggedy smile and leaned over and opened up the door to his ugly Buick.

“Sure you do, Ginger,” he told me, as if he knew something I didn’t.

“Don’t call me Ginger,” I said back, and he grinned even wider. Nobody besides him ever called me Ginger, always Virginia or Virginia Leigh, because Virgie and Ginny and Gigi never suited me, the same way that Prissy doesn’t suit my best friend Silly.

“I’ll call you whatever I want to call you, and I want to call you Ginger because it suits you. You’ve got ginger hair and are Virginia. I can’t believe nobody thought of it before. Now, get in the car.”
I didn’t want to get in the car with him, ’cause of Cam being a trouble maker and burning holes in the church carpet and calling me Ginger, but it was raining and my sneakers were already wet. So I got in and shut the door.

His car was real ugly, I’ll tell you. Uglier on the inside than the out. There was a bunch of records sitting on the floor in the back and a crumpled up box of Marlboros I had to move from the seat before I sat down. It was also kinda hard not to notice that there was a lady’s underthing hanging from the rearview mirror, with the note “I LOVE YOU, CAM” written on it. A green Little Tree was there, too, and the whole place smelled like cigarette smoke and too much air freshener.

“What’re you doing out in the rain, Ginger?”

I corrected him, “Virginia.”

“Alright, Virginia Leigh, what’re you doing out in the rain?”

Then, I glared at him. “I was shopping,” I told him, and hugged my purse to my chest. He didn’t think I was telling the truth, I could tell by the way that he looked at me.

“Were you really?”

“Yes, I was really shopping.”

“Not getting into trouble again, were you, Virginia Leigh?” He raised his eyebrow and pulled away from the sidewalk. If anybody else’d driven me home, it would have been nice. A nice thing to do for somebody. But not with Cam MacAllister – he can turn anything nice into something rotten. He picked me up so that he had an excuse to try to get my goat for ten minutes while I was stuck with him.

“I never got in any trouble in the first place,” I said.

“Wasn’t your daddy pissed off that you were skipping his sermon?”

“I wasn’t skipping his sermon, and no.”

The truth was that Daddy didn’t even notice that I was gone, or if he did, he didn’t say. Momma and Maureen got in an argument after church and I went up to our bedroom and tried to ignore it. That happens a lot, because my sister likes to stir up trouble. Not like Cam, though.

“Oh, yeah.” He looked at me when he said this, so long that the car started going off the road. “It veers to the left,” he muttered, as if it was some kind of apology, and then completely copped out of an apology by leaning over and lighting a cigarette. I knew it was going to be real gross, so I rolled the window down. He kept on talking. “Good Old Moey was out this weekend, wasn’t she? Bet your parents weren’t happy about that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Moey, Maureen, Mo, you know, your sister. The one with the –”

“I know who my sister is, Cameron,” I told him. I made sure that I sounded real serious, so that he wouldn’t try to screw around with me. “What about her?”

“She was out this weekend, committing all kinds of sins. I saw her at the Rudder on Saturday night.”
I glared at Cam. I knew that my sister Maureen had been out on Saturday night because I’d seen her sneak out of the window of our room and then off of the roof of the porch. I didn’t want other people to know that, though, especially Cam, cause he’d think it was funny to tell my parents where she was. When they caught out that she’d been drinking on Saturday night she told them that she’d drunk a bunch of wine we had in our refrigerator. I didn’t tell them different because I didn’t want Maureen to fight with them more.

Lucky for me, Cam finally drove me to my house, so I didn’t need to listen to him bothering me anymore. He stopped the car in my driveway and he crunched up a bunch of gravel cause he stopped too fast. I got out and when the door was still open, I said to him, real angry-like, “You think you’re real bad and real funny, Cameron Carlin MacAllister, but you’re not. You think you’re real great cause you’re the town rebel, but everybody knows that that’s just ten years and a Jack Daniel’s bottle from being the town drunk.”

I slammed his car door shut. He shouted, “Aren’t you gonna thank me?” while I was walking back into my house in the rain, but I didn’t thank him. There are some people who deserve good manners and some who don’t, and Cam MacAllister is definitely one of the people who don’t.

● ● ●


I heard a tapping on my window one night. Tap, tap, tapping. It was the end of May or the start of June, and it was real boiling hot. If I’d been asleep, I don’t think would’ve heard that tapping. It was real soft. I was up though, thinking about different stuff, so I heard it. I opened up my window and Cameron Carlin MacAllister was standing in my driveway. He had been throwing gravel at my window.

He said, “I was wondering if you were actually gonna open up.”

I was real embarrassed he was looking at me in my nightgown, so I crossed my arms over my chest. I didn’t want to make a lot of noise because Maureen was sleeping. “You’ll wake my sister,” I hissed at him. I glared, too.

“And?” he said, raising his eyebrow at me like the smart-alec he is.

“And she’ll tell my parents. And they’ll kill me just for speaking to you.” He looked at me real skeptical-like, but it’s not like I was lying. They would be mad at me for talking to Cam.

“Moey hasn’t got much place to tattle on you, she talks to me.”

I frowned. Cam just doesn’t get some stuff, like they way that Maureen is. “She’d tell just to prove to my parents that she isn’t the only one who does bad stuff.”

I don’t know what he thought about that. He just said, “You wanna go cruising?”

I didn’t. “No,” I told him. It was real late at night and it was hot and I hated Cam and even if I didn’t and my parents found out, I would be dead.

“Sure you do,” he said. Real arrogant, like he knew something I didn’t. He says stuff like that a lot, Cam. He acts like he knows something about you that you don’t. Sometimes, he can make you feel like he’s looking inside your head.

I went to close my window. “Leave me alone,” I said. “Stop trying to get my goat.”

“Go cruising with me,” he said, like he didn’t even hear what I just said.

“No!”

“You owe me a favor.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” I told him and slammed the window shut. If anything, he owed me for the carpet he ruined in the church.

He tossed another rock at the glass. It made a real loud sound, like the glass was splintering, and then it fell onto the roof below the window. I opened it up again. “Don’t you throw stuff at me!” I yelled at him as loud as I dared. “You’re gonna break this window, and then what am I gonna do?” I bent over and got the rock off the roof. I totally forgot I was leaning over in my nightgown. Then, I threw it back at him hard as I could. It missed, but it was the thought that counted.

“Nice try, Ginger,” he laughed. “Get down here and go cruising with me or I’ll break your window and you’ll be in deep s-h-you-know-the-rest.” (He said the whole word and didn’t spell it, though.)
What was I supposed to do to that? He was blackmailing me into cruising around with him like a troublemaker. I thought for a second about going right then and there and telling my daddy that Cam MacAllister was harassing me, but then I actually thought about what my daddy would say if he knew that Cam was here. And for me, not Maureen. It’s not that my daddy’s mean, or not understanding. He’s one of the most understanding people in the world. He just understands people. But just like he says to Maureen, he says, “Maureen, you choose your company. Troublemakers don’t just come to you like flies to honey. You’re the company you keep.”

Was I the company that I keep? Was I Cam because I’d spent time with him? I seriously hope that I wasn’t, but I knew that my daddy wouldn’t be pleased that he was picking on me, he’d think there must be some kind of reason for him picking me of all people, something I did or said. That’s why I couldn’t go to my daddy. Of course, I didn’t want to go cruising with him. I would get down and make him go away and make some excuses.

“Hold your horses,” I told him. I shut the window. While I was changing out of my nightgown, I could hear Cam laughing in the driveway. I was thinking to myself that he is a despicable human being, and I really didn’t understand why me. I was real mad, I’ll tell you. Real mad. I don’t like being harassed and I don’t like being blackmailed and I don’t like Cam and I don’t like doing things that my parents wouldn’t like. But I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?

I snuck out the front door, didn’t bother with climbing out of the roof like Maureen does. I left the door unlocked for when I got home. Cam grinned at me when I came out of the house. He’s real pale, and in the moonlight, his skin caught all the light. It looked translucent, like a vampire’s.

“Get in,” he told me.

I had decided to be stubborn. I said, in my most stubborn voice, “No.”

“Come on, Ginger,” he said, trying to be all coaxing and such. I wasn’t buying it. “It’s just a real short drive, you’ll be home before your parents know you’re gone.”

“I’m not getting in that car with you again,” I said. I meant it. I honestly did not want to get in that car with him. Ever.

The window to his car was open. “Okay,” he shrugged. He leaned in the open window towards the steering wheel. “I’ll just set off my car alarm and then we’ll see what your parents think. It doesn’t look too good, does it?”

It didn’t look good. I didn’t know what to do. I had to choose between disappointing and angrying my parents and putting up with Cam. When it came down to it, I knew that letting my parents think I was good was more important than being perfectly good. Not everyone can be perfectly good, especially when they’re stuck in situations like this. If I just humored him, my parents might never find out. So, I climbed in shotgun and he drove off.

“Where are we going?” I asked him, but he didn’t answer. We didn’t talk while he drove, and it made me real uncomfortable. I wondered what he was thinking, why he kept bothering me, why he wanted me of all people to go cruising with him. I could’ve tattled on him real easy, told the cops that he was out late at night driving when he didn’t have his senior license. I thought about telling the policemen about his traffic violations, but I was thinking then that if I just humored him, he’d leave me alone.
He ordered me to roll down my window, and honestly I was kinda scared of him, so I did. Once he’d rolled down all the windows in the car, he started driving real fast. I had never gone so fast ever in my life. My daddy only drives the speed limit, and I was watching Cam’s speedometer and on the real straight stretch of road on the way to Savannah he was going ninety, ninety-one, ninety-two. I stop looking ’cause I was so scared.

The trees were running past us, the Spanish moss grabbing at us like fingers. I wanted to cry, I wanted him to slow down, but I couldn’t open my mouth to tell him. He shouted, “We’re the still point of the turning world!” and I was scared. I was scared out of my mind, I thought that I was going to start crying, but it was exhilarating. I knew that Cam wanted to scare me, ’cause why else would he take me outside the town and drive so fast, so I decided to try and enjoy it. It made my breath go away and I felt like I was at the edges of everything, and scary or not, that’s a special feeling. We flew around the bends of the road and the side of the car pressed against me. I thought about Daddy’s circle and I was one of the tangents. I touched the circle, and then I flew off into that great big mystery that was everything outside Chestnut. Daddy always talked about it like it was a bad thing, but I didn’t think that it was so bad. I could see why people would want to do this for fun.

There aren’t a whole lot of roads that go straight that long in Chestnut, and after a while, he had to slow down ’cause you can’t take turns that sharp at ninety. He turned down Oglethorpe Road drove the car to the docks. It was about ten minutes, I think, to get there, but I was still shaking real bad when I got out of the car. I got out because he got out, and I kissed the ground. It got sand on my lips. It was real muggy and the air was thick, but I had never been so grateful for air in my life.
He didn’t talk and walked to the end of the docks and sat down with his feet dangling over. I stayed by the car, steadying myself against it cause I was still kind of dizzy, you know, for a while, and I watched him walking down there. He turned around and looked at me for a second, watched me leaning against his car. I followed him ’cause I didn’t know what else to do.

He didn’t say anything and I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to talk real bad though. All I could hear was the river lapping up against the docks. Crash, slide, crash, slide, crash, slide, crash, slide. He finally said,

“We could get in my car and drive all night and be somewhere by morning.”

Like I’d ever go anywhere with him. “Somewhere?” I asked, though. I figured telling him that would be pointless.

“Yeah.”

He can be real stupid sometimes. “Yeah” didn’t answer my question, so I said, “Where’s somewhere?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just… somewhere.”

“We’re somewhere right now,” I told him, real matter-of-fact.

He snorted real loud and pushed his hair out of his face. His hair is dark brown and longer than most boys wear it. He didn’t look at me. “No we’re not. We’re in Chestnut fucking Georgia. We’re nowhere.”
“Chestnut is a place, Cam,” I told him. I think he was being ridiculous. I mean, obviously, Chestnut is a place. How could we be nowhere? Nowhere doesn’t exist, and if we’re in a place that doesn’t exist, then we must not exist, and I’m pretty sure that I exist. So Chestnut must be somewhere.

“No, it’s not, Virginia,” he said. I was surprised he called me Virginia, and not Ginger. “Chestnut is nowhere. The very definition of nowhere.”

“Explain what you mean,” I said. I was real demanding of him. I wanted to know what he was on about.

“Chestnut doesn’t matter to anybody except the couple of people who live in it. To the rest of the world, we might as well not exist.”

“So what? It matters to people the people who live in it, which makes it just as important as someplace big, like Atlanta or New York.” I told him that. And I thought it was true. I still think that it’s true. Everyplace is important to somebody, and even if it’s just a few, that makes it somewhere. Chestnut is somewhere to me.

“Don’t pretend like you like it here,” he snapped. He had turned away from the water and was glaring at me. It made me squirm, him glaring at me. His eyebrows were together like a V and it made me real uncomfortable.

“Why would you think that I don’t like it here?” I asked. I was sincerely perplexed, I’ll tell you. Sincerely perplexed. I was confused, because I love Chestnut. I think I make that pretty clear to everybody. I love the people, like my parents, and my best friend Silly. I love the Piggly Wiggly where they sell green boiled peanuts in cans that aren’t as good as the ones my mother looks and I love the trailers in Hollywood, where all the black people live and still sing those gospel songs on their fake porches and I love the broken down Volkswagen Bug that’s sitting in front of the ice cream parlor that nobody ever bothered get towed and I love the church where my daddy preaches. I love the church so much I help with Sunday school and picnics and I love everyone who goes there, even the mean “loquacious” girls because they make Chestnut what it is. I love Chestnut and I think that that’s pretty clear. Yeah, sure, it gets kind of annoying sometimes being in a small place, everybody gets fed up with the place where they live sometimes, even people in New York and Atlanta, so I don’t think that’s bad.

“You wouldn’t be here with me if you did,” he said. He was staring at my best, like his eyes were trying to bore into my heart. It made me so uncomfortable I turned away and crossed my arms over my chest. I didn’t know what to say to him.

I think he knew that I felt real uneasy around him, especially since he said that. What he said wasn’t true, but it made me uncomfortable. He got up off the dock and said, “Okay, get back in the car and I’ll drive you home.”

Driving me home straight off realizing I wasn’t comfortable that night is the only nice thing Cam has ever done for me. I almost felt like I could like him, or at least pity him for having a daddy who fell off the bridge into the Savannah drunk and a momma who came from Jasper County, South Carolina to teach history but has to work at the Pig, too, to make ends meet. I got in the house and the clock on the stove said it was 3:15, and I was pretty sure that I had been out for almost three hours and couldn’t believe the time had gone that fast. I snuck up to my room surprisingly easy and got in bed. I could hear Maureen breathing real sound as I fell asleep and maybe ’cause Cam was nice towards the end, I felt less guilty than I probably should have.

● ● ●


It was towards the very end of school, when all of the teachers are reviewing for their final examinations, when Cam picked me up again. This was maybe a week after he came to the house at night and bullied me into going cruising with him. I had pretty much got over being mad at him, though, and to be honest, I wasn’t even thinking about him. First, we had a social at the church and I had to bake two rhubarb pies and that kept me busy, and then I had a big final paper due in my English class about Edgar Allen Poe, and then Silly and I went out for ice cream and I just didn’t have time to consider him. I’m a busy girl, at the center of things.

I was walking home from school after a long, hot day in the classroom, and thinking about reviewing for my final in Mrs. Cleary’s United States history class. Usually, I walk home from school with Silly, but that day, she stayed after to get extra help for her geometry exam from Mr. Marshall. Silly’s real smart but has trouble in math sometimes, geometry especially. She thought it would take a while to get help from Mr. Marshall, so she told me to go ahead and walk home without her. Silly’s nice like that.
Cam must’ve noticed I was alone and thought it real unusual, ’cause when he drove by he pulled over again and leaned over and opened up the passenger side door to his car. I knew that I should get in and not bother argue.

“What you up to, Ginger?” he asked me, like nothing had never happened between us a week earlier. Like he didn’t come to my house in the middle of the night and practically kidnapped me and then drove around so fast I felt sick.

“Walking home from school,” I said, and shut the door.

“I can see that. What are you reading?”

“United States history.” He was driving, but I showed him the book I was carrying with me anyway. He nodded. His momma teaches history, but eighth grade. Young kids, you know. I wondered how much he knew about history ’cause of her.

“What’re you studying?”

“We’re reviewing right now.”

“What’re you reviewing, then?”

I told him. “The War of Northern Aggression.” And he nodded. He probably learned about the War of Northern Aggression in school, too. Everybody takes United States history class. Then, I surprised him, I think. I even surprised myself, real bad. I said, “I feel like a slave sometimes.”

We were stopped at the light where Market and Main Street meet. He turned and stared at me. He stares a lot, Cameron Carlin MacAllister. There was a real long silence, and I could hear the motor of his ugly car churning and maybe if I listened real hard how quick he was breathing. The light changed and the wheels started going again and he finally said, “You don’t know anything about what it’s like to be a slave, Virginia.”

I thought that he’d understand what I meant. That he’d be happy that I wasn’t completely good and everything, that sometimes I think things that I probably shouldn’t, like when I think that Danny Wagner is the cutest boy in town and that I get real sick of having to always be the only person who ever volunteers at the church and that sometimes I only do it because I’m the preacher’s daughter and I have to.

“I feel like I’m trapped here,” I told him, real slow and cautious-like. “Sometimes. Not all the times. Just every once in a while you know. I feel like I’m a slave to my parents, and what they think of me. Having to be good all the time.”

I didn’t tell Cam more, that I love my parents and I don’t want them to be displeased with me, but I think that there are things that they don’t understand. If they’d known that I went driving ninety around at three in the morning with Cam MacAllister, they would have thought just that Cam makes trouble and his daddy was a drunk and it was three in the morning and I should have been in bed and I could have been killed going ninety miles an hour. But what they don’t understand is how the scariness of it makes you feel like you’re free of having to always be in the circle, surrounded by what people expect of you. They don’t understand that Cam MacAllister didn’t try to make me drink or take advantage of me like they’d think he would, that the worst he did was take me driving. They forget that there aren’t a lot of people around in Chestnut at three in the morning, so it’s not like I was going to run into muggers and all like in big cities. They forget that cars are dangerous no matter what, and you can get killed in a car going the speed limit just as well as you can any speed, so you might as well go ninety once in a while.
“I could’ve figured that,” he said. “Did I make you start thinking that or did you think that before?”
I told him that I didn’t know.

“You’re not a slave, Virginia,” he said to me. “Go down to Hollywood and talk to the people there and you’ll know something about being a slave. You can break free any time you want, you just decide not to.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. He pulled up to my driveway and I got out with my books and things without saying goodbye. He didn’t seem real concerned with saying goodbyes or anything.
I went in my house and it was nice and cooler than outside. Momma was slicing up some peaches, ’cause she was going to fix up some fruit salad to go after dinner that night. She wasn’t looking at me and I knew that she saw the car I’d come up in.

“Was that Cam MacAllister?” she asked me. She was staring at her peaches real hard.

I told her that yes, it was, and felt my cheeks go real red. I was embarrassed to think that my momma might think that Cam and I were friends or something. “He gave me a ride home from school, because Silly wasn’t walking with me ’cause she was getting extra help from Mr. Marshall.”

“He’s a troublemaker, Virginia Leigh.” Her voice was real tight. I didn’t want her to be upset.

“It was just a ride, Momma.”

“Well, don’t you get any more rides from that boy. The only thing that he can give you is a reputation,” Momma said. I said something along the lines of agreeing with her, and then I went up to study my history.

I opened up my book and tried real hard to think about the War of Northern Aggression, but I couldn’t help but think that that’s a real silly name for a war. I know that in most places, they just call it the Civil War, though I don’t think there was anything particularly civil about it. Most people in Chestnut are pretty civil, except for a few, like Cam. He’s uncivilized, flying around the edge of a circle like a tangent, and people don’t like him for that.

I opened up my geometry notes instead, and thought that I might help Silly with her geometry if she needed. One of our last units was on circles, how when you’ve got angles and arcs and you can figure out how big every angle and arc is if you know the right theorems and postulates. There was a circle with probably forty lines going in different places, and you had to figure out all the numbered angles. There was one line going tangent, only touching the circle at one spot, but there was one too that intersected the tangent at a 45 degree angle and then went through the middle, crossing with other lines and making other angles and going out the other side. I decided that I wouldn’t mind being that line very much, if I could. In geometry, lines don’t have to stay inside the circle, necessarily. They can go a lot of ways.

I am listening to Alizée in honor of it being Raphie's Pansy's birthday. Babycakessugarbean, I wish you were on. Or jap_exclamation.... Where are you?

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Comments {5}

alex

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from: astrolatryae
date: Aug. 3rd, 2006 03:40 am (UTC)
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OGLETHORPE Road in Chestnut, GEORGIA. I love you to pieces.

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yes is a pleasant country.

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from: the_andorran
date: Aug. 3rd, 2006 03:55 am (UTC)
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Shout out to ma fellow history geeks, fo sho! :D

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Miranda

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from: the_evil_imp
date: Aug. 3rd, 2006 05:30 pm (UTC)
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No one else knows where that title is from, do they.

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Miranda

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from: the_evil_imp
date: Aug. 3rd, 2006 05:35 pm (UTC)
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P.S. My only criticism after reading this is that I think you make her come off a lot younger than she's supposed to be. I liked the persona you gave her and the narrator's voice you used in Prometheus a lot more.

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yes is a pleasant country.

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from: the_andorran
date: Aug. 3rd, 2006 06:57 pm (UTC)
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1) Since I got asked where I came up with the title in talkback, everybody at governor's school knows.

2) She's supposed to seem younger than she is, that's the way she chooses to portray herself.

3) This is a lot better than what was in Prometheus. It was way too dull and distant in third person.

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