take this with a pinch of swati y'all.
im feeling sentimental and all now. some friendships were forged over the weekend and im feeling some happiness. the church, i feel for you and you make me laugh. the queen, you are the best. holly, it was great talking with you.
now i feel i should die because this, my friends, just read like an eulogy

i wrote and complained to authorities about the bus driver episode. they were very bothered and are taking action now. and now i feel terrible cos i don't want the bus driver to lose his job or something. farfetched, perhaps i give myself too much importance?

JP,
something i wrote for you!

the church walked away to warmed hands and warmer toes
the queen stayed and offered some
while the colonised looked on

I ride the shuttle to school and yesterday i wanted to bomb one of them, seriously! As another brown skinned person and i tried to get into the bus, Mr. Driver yells "what do you think you are doing?"
we assume it is a joke and get in. then he enters and proceeds to say "you guys are the targets man. You enter the country as students and then start terrorist organizations." So I ask him "Sir, which kind of people are you talking about?" he points at me "you kind"
and then his friend enters and they proceed to talk about security measures and sleeper cells on campuses.
I am in a hurry to get to school so I don't know what else to do except curse the bastard and want to plant a bomb in his ass.

Robin,

My unlawfully wedded sex partner, may I ask why the rage against your bush? does the mere shaving of one's cunt offer resistance to the offending GW? I am a little offended myself that there is even a comparison being made between the wondeful bush that we all have and GW. Why is there so much shame connected to the genital hair? Doesnt the idle playing around with the hair provide something for us to do in times of boredom? Dont you ponder on the effectualness of something that comes in all textures, sizes and colors, something that is so much a part of you but outside of you? Much like Lacan's the Enigmatic Signifier?
Something that we are all rivetted you. Something beyond yourself! A symbol of being a woman, not that I am a big fan of symbols but still forgive me for sometimes I slip into being my old silly self!
But my love, it is a source of much physical, tactile pleasure to many people and to demean one's pubic hair by comparing it to the murderous Mr. Bush is sacrilegous. LOVE THY OWN BUSH! SUBVERT WHAT IT HAS NOW COME TO MEAN. RECLAIM IT AND MAKE IT OUR OWN!