muumuu house published two of my things, a poem and a piece of fiction.
i feel really good about this. i feel excited.
blog hits are at rap star levels.
the piece of fiction is called 'everyone i've had sex with.' it is not really fiction in the sense that it is 'false' information, but it is fiction in the sense that memory fictionalizes experiences, i guess. and the names are different.
i didn't write it to be 'outrageous and dramatic' or create any bad feelings in any person, it was just something i wrote awhile ago to take inventory on an area of my life.
it is strange to me that i feel completely comfortable with people who i don't know in real life reading this, but uneasy about people who i do know* reading it. i was objective and fair i think, in describing my experiences. i didn't embellish anything. identities are, on the surface, 'protected'/anonymous. unsure of whether i should tell people i've had sex with about this.
sex to me is just something that people do, it's not good or bad. knowing a person's sexual history has no effect on my opinion of them. i could've written something called 'everyone i've been to target with' and i think it probably would have had the same effect**.
i just thought about re-titling it 'everyone i've been to target with' and i laughed, kind of like it, i don't know.
*edit: people i've had sex with
**edit: not to say that sex isn't an emotional experience, which it is/can be, but i guess i don't place the same 'moral' standards on it as some people i know/i don't understand how someone could be called a bad person because of who they have sex or don't have sex with, seems arbitrary.
this blog post feels futile to me.