Written around 4:15 PM:
AAAAAAA! An obese woman in an electric scooter just got on the bus. I looked up as she rolled to the space designated for wheelchairs, and saw under her far-too-short skirt that was pulled taut above her knees. Her legs lay apart, and the fat leading up from her knees pooled inward, her thighs touching right before I could see her underwear.
I am scarred for life. Just kidding, that happened a long time ago.
(there is a line across the page)
I think it's time to start writing my memoir/novel thing. Or compiling it and filling in the cracks. I guess I'll start by editing the other half of this essay on self-injury. Then I can piece together and edit the chapter on being in the hospital. Then I connect the two together. Probably the hospital chapter after the self-injury chapter.
And I can write an introduction after the whole thing is done, Fat Girl (by Judith Moore) style. The interviews need to be in there, too. There's a lot of stuff I've done since sophomore year. I'll have to edit and rewrite a lot, since I wrote each piece to stand on its own, and now a lot can be explained early on and not need explanation later. I wonder how long it's gonna end up to be? I was kind of figuring that it shouldn't be less than 200 pages. Isn't that still novella length, anyway?
I get distracted so easily, but I really want to do this. I've worked pretty (?) hard (?) on this subject matter so far.
(End of journal entries.)
Friday, November 6, 2009
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