Whatever happened to that girl, Shannon?

GUESS WHO'S "ENGAGED"... YEAH, MISS U KNOW WHO

2006-01-25T23:53:55Z

THE EMAIL I GOT YESTERDAY AFTERNOON.

Hey Shannon, I've tried on and off to get a hold of you for the last four
months with no response from you. What's up with this? usually I get some
kind of random phone call from you.. kinda worried about ya. This feels
weird writing what I need to tell you in an email, but since you won't call
me here it goes. I recently got engaged to Debra this last Christmas, and I
just wanted to let you know before word got to you in some other way. Were
planning on having a ceremony sometime next year. I know we've been through
so much Shannon, and I still consider you family. I hope that you can find
it in your heart to except this.. and be a part of my life again. I really
want you at my ceremony.. It would mean alot to me. Please Shannon, give me
a call sometime.... really am worried about you. I hope everything is ok in
your life... and that you found a way to continue with school. I'm giving
you my new contact info. so you have it.

Miss you and love ya!
Jenn
My new address is: 4415 Hamilton St. Apt.19 San Diego, CA 92116
My new phone is: 619 384-4781

P.S. Found out Courtney Marin is moving into her condo in New York this
Summer, I guess she plans to live there for a while.. can you believe that!

AND I'M THINKING
JANICE IAN.
"AT 17"
SONG: IN THE WINTER
THIS LETTER: INTRO TO THE SONG
IN MY CABARET SHOW

AH... LIKE WHAT IF I "ACCIDENTALLY" MADE AN APPOINTMENT TO MEET "DEBRA"- SHE'S A THERAPIST, AFTERALL... IN CALIFORNIA, BUT NEVERTHELESS... HAHA...

JUST KIDDING.

BUT REALLY. THIS HIT ME YESTERDAY. OF COURSE I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH HER ANYMORE BUT IT MAKES YOU LOOK AT SOMETHING AND SAY "THIS IS REAL". THIS IS HAPPENING. SHE REALLY IS GONE. AND WE REALLY WERE SOMETHING. AND NOW WE REALLY ARE NOTHING. AND THE PAIN REALLY WAS AND IS REAL AND I THINK ALL OF THE SUDDEN A LOT OF WORDS HAVE MORE MEANING TO ME.

"AND IN THE WINTER EXTRA BLANKETS FOR THE COLD. FIX THE HEATER, GETTING OLD. YOU ARE WITH HER NOW, i KNOW... I AM ALONE FOREVER, NOT TOGETHER NOW."

NOW THAT MAY SOUND A BIT EXTREME AND IT IS-- BUT TRULY, WE ARE BOTH VERY SEPARATE AND DIFFERENT PEOPLE WHEN OUR LIVES ARE NOT CONNECTED. IT'S NOT BAD, JUST DIFFERENT, STRANGE, NEW... AND NOW REAL.

NO, I WILL NOT GO TO THE CEREMONY, AND I'M GLAD I DIDN'T ANSWER THE PHONE FOR FOUR MONTHS.

AND KNOWING JEN, I'LL BET SOMEONE SOMETHING THE THING DOESN'T EVEN HAPPEN-

BUT WHO KNOWS, THERE'S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING, RIGHT?

MUCH LOVE ON AN ODD DAY IN MY HISTORY,

SHANNON RUNION

_________________________________________________________________
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brn2entrtn @ 2005-11-16T11:59:00

2005-11-16T17:00:49Z

My Space

Topamax sprinkles in applesauce,
(NOT pineapple)
100 calorie Oreo pack,
sugar free lemonade
from high maintenance roommate’s blue cup
(think it’s been out since yesterday).

Seroquel
and finally my cigarette,
Marlboro MEDIUM.

I sit on someone’s old couch cushions
that pose as my bed
and ponder,
should I spray dollar store
air freshener to mask the smell?

Not yet.
For a second
I wallow in the moment,
you know,
for the sake of the new poem.

At the top of the trash
lies an empty air freshener can.
I’m an experienced smell masker.

Experienced at disguising one thing
to mean another.

A lot of smoke this week,
to aid my cold.
It makes me feel like Dorothy Parker.

“Im a fool to rise at all”
(Not from this “bed”).

I peruse my new room.
It’s funny how I live-
not quite right.
Not all there,
all in,
or too deeply caught up.
I read into everyone,
the psychologist within-
“Yes, but who are you really?”

Not that it actually matters.
but sometimes, god damnit, I need to know!

I can’t help but get sick of searching
within myself for answers
that ought to be reachable
out there

but the world outside
is an architectural nightmare
compared to the design inside

and I can’t figure out
who broke the structure
in the first place
or if it was ever really created
at all?

The distance between my design
and what I’m capable of seeing outside
is creativity, is art?

(Or is that too fartsy...)

But that’s a world I might live in
and want to bring people along.

not in this peach ash flavored shit
of cat hair and borderline alcoholic roommates...

For now I look at the solid things
and break them down.

Some pills, effexor, digestable objects of life
that make me see objects the same as everyone else;

a cushion is a cushion,
an Oreo crisp, an Oreo crisp.

But cushions are sometimes Oreo crisps
and a cigarette an abusive summer.
What good is object identification in a world
where we can’t even identify ourselves?
Space around me always shouts.
Why am I the only one listening?

-Shannon Runion

ahhhhh...

2005-11-16T16:58:04Z

She struts around the living room, high heeled not so shiny patent leather Mary Janes tripping on a plethora of mostly empty liquor bottles. Parading a Valentine red plaid "I suck him off in the bathroom" schoolgirl miniskirt slut look, her two sizes two small fishnet thigh highs push the excess fat from late night pizza runs to the top of her legs and keep it from sagging with a tightly wrapped ripped satin black bow. In a frantic run to get to the next bar, a strip joint I think, the wine from her shaking hand spills from the cup as she bends over to retrieve a fallen hot pink glossy lipstick tube her disheveled cat has decided to chase. She applies the gloss carefully as the cat licks the spilt wine from her fingers. She grabs her pinkest purse, pops a clonapyn wafer (or four), and wobbles down the cat urine soaked stairs past the angry downstairs neighbor's door, and out for her nightly routine obsession of drinking, making and losing new friends and lovers...Fucking alcoholic roommate. Go back to Landenburg. God damnit, I need a drink.

brn2entrtn @ 2005-11-16T11:46:00

2005-11-16T16:52:06Z

Hey guys- I've been busy- But I'm alive- sort of. Here's some stuff to read.

Dedicated to the gay uncle i never had... I was the stage manager of his one man show, "isn't it sarcastic", in which he lightly dipped into his relationship with one of the most famous musical theatre composers of our time.
**************************
Isn't It Sarcastic?

Emotionally slaughtered New York displaced
middle- aged gay male
seeks refuge on Philly Stage
in one man show,
"Isn't It Sarcastic?"

I hope so, because I've strung together
sarcastic stories of life,
slice by slice
for you to devour
and me to wallow in.

(And balloons by my lovely assistant, Shannon)

Wanted: an audience who will listen.
You must not be: homophobic,
as loneliness knows no boundaries.

Please know who Stephen Sondheim is,
Uta Hagen, Gilda Radner and Olympia Dukakis.

I want you to get my jokes.

I don't joke about Stephen.
Not much, as he was my lover.
And now nobody is damned near good enough for the Dougster.

Wanted: An alcoholic audience in case I'm not sarcastic enough.
I'll be drinking Country Time Lemonade
(mixed by my lovely assistant, Shannon)
because I no longer drink.

Please bring your friends and any famous
musical theatre composers
who might cast me in their next show.

No, don't. Suddenly I don't want anybody to come.
Wanted: no audience, no stage.
Wanted: my television, my adjustable bed.
Setting 99 for me, setting 3 for my cat.

Do NOT come see this show.

You silly, I was just being sarcastic!

I'll see you there.
Party favors will be provided
(by my insane assistant, Shannon)

-Shannon Runion
************************************

my obituary- i know you think im nuts- it was a class exercise!

2005-09-21T15:48:49Z

Shannon Heather Runion
March 06, 1980- March 10, 2025

At the age of 45, writer, actor, singer, cabaret star, teacher and psychologist, Shannon Runion, passed away during a performance of Peter Pan. She just went to Neverland and never came back. And that is where I imagine she wanted to go, to that second star to the right that we forget to see, but sometimes catch a glimpse of. Shannon was better at staring at it, but sometimes for too long, I fear. Shannon's favorite place was the imagination, the unconscious world. As long as she could go there she was happy, she was sane. She made a life of finding pathways there and of bringing people into her world. Now that she's in Neverland her wish is for you to find your own place of shining bliss. And you can find it within yourselves.

Born in San Diego, California she survived her awkward and unfortunate childhood by participating in the country’s most psychotic children’ theatre, where there were 12 Wendy's cast and only four performances. The director was an alcoholic with a P.h.d. in Children's Psychology who found it amusing to mess with Shannon's head, as if it weren't already tilted enough. Shannon once tried to kill herself by rope from the monkey bars. That was in the first grade. Her neck was red for weeks.

Wise beyond her years, she grew up young and always understood everybody although they ignored her cries for help. So a writer was born. And mental illness. A great combination to make the future New York Times Best Seller- list. Miss Runion became a very famous memoir writer. The Times called her “angrier than Dorothy Parker, less well than Elizabeth Wurtzel and funnier than Sedaris”.

At age 18 Shannon was extracted from California and moved to NYC by a cult that was an acting school, which she swore was a cover up for the moffia. They call it AMDA. She calls it SCAMDA. It ruined her for a long time, but most of all it made her insane. She developed Post Traumatic Acting School Stress Disorder. It's amazing she lived as long as she did.

Shannon did sue SCAMDA at age 30 for millions of dollars and won, once PTASSD became a diagnosable illness, with much thanks to Shannon's thesis. It did take long for Shannon to get that far in school. Between the ages of 18 and 28 she became a professional student, getting booted from the University of the Arts Musical Theatre Program, which broke her heart. She thought she'd never see a stage again. She tried to get through the program twice. The first time she had to take a leave due to a drop of weight below 78 pounds (that grand PTASSD at it's best) and the second time an evil Acting Teacher teaching the famoud Meisner Method forced her off of her anti- anxiety pills so she could "feel better" to do the acting method. Shannon lost control, sported a t-shirt of her own invention "Meisner Made Me Do It...", and enrolled in Psychology and Creative Writing classes at the New School in New York.

Upon Shannon's death today the Theatre and Writing Buildings at the University of the Arts in Philly are being dedicated to her name. They have publicly apologized for kicking her to the curb. Well, they should have known better. The New School gave her her first diploma. And she had never been more proud. College was a very important decade of her life.

Upon graduation her first book had already been published, and she was a well- renowned teacher and cabaret star in Philadelphia, best known for her Peter Pan and Sound of Music sketches which she performed on Saturday Night Live. Her "kid cabaret" class was a local phenomenon and was touring east coast cities with high middle aged gay male populations.

By age 35 she was a professional Psychologist and had invented her own form of therapy, “Cabaret Therapy”. It had been the title of her first cabaret show, but it also became a renowned form of therapy, now used worldwide for adults and kids alike.

Just before Shannon died, her memoirs were made into a play she wrote and directed and it also became a movie starring the one and only Parker Posey.

In heaven, Shannon resides in a huge house with her best friends Dorothy Parker, Mary Martin, Stephen Sondheim, Richard Rodgers, John Bucchino and Doug Anderson.

There will be a service tomorrow with a party following in the Cabaret Room at the Society Hill Playhouse. Everyone is to bring and sing two contrasting songs that remind them of Shannon and will tell a story explaining why. If you don't sing, Rob Blackwell, Shannon's beloved accompanist, will be happy to play them for you.

God Bless, or whatever blesses you.

Shannon's Unconscious "voice" :-)

Philly Theatre Review

2005-09-18T22:10:20Z

Hey guys, the online version of the Philly theatre Review's up on the internet for the first time.

www.phillytheatrereview.com

The first print version will be in theatre lobbies Mid October...

I'm sad my Improv article didn't make it because the site had to be sent somewhere for repair. :-( Ah well- I have to write another one for Novemeber. Still glad I went to the Improv show. I met cool people and they were actually talented. They do long form Improv, taking one word suggestions from the audience and turning them into one hour shows...

I'm fat and lazy and didn't leave the apartment all weekend except to get a few coffees.

Shannon

brn2entrtn @ 2005-09-13T11:00:00

2005-09-13T15:01:40Z

My Space

Topamax sprinkles in applesauce,
(NOT pineapple)
100 calorie Oreo pack,
sugar free lemonade
from high maintenance roommate’s blue cup
(think it’s been out since yesterday).

Seroquel
and finally my cigarette,
Marlboro MEDIUM.

I sit on someone’s old couch cushions
that pose as my bed
and ponder,
should I spray dollar store
air freshener to mask the smell?

Not yet.
For a second
I wallow in the moment,
you know,
for the sake of the new poem.

At the top of the trash
lies an empty air freshener can.
I’m an experienced smell masker.

Experienced at disguising one thing
to mean another.

A lot of smoke this week,
to aid my cold.
It makes me feel like Dorothy Parker.

“Im a fool to rise at all”
(Not from this “bed”).

I peruse my new room.
It’s funny how I live-
not quite right.
Not all there,
all in,
or too deeply caught up.

I read into everyone,
the psychologist within-
“Yes, but who are you really?”

Not that it actually matters.
but sometimes, god damnit, I need to know!

I can’t help but get sick of searching
within myself for answers
that ought to be reachable
out there

but the world outside
is an architectural nightmare
compared to the design inside

and I can’t figure out
who broke the structure
in the first place
or if it was ever really created
at all?

The distance between my design
and what I’m capable of seeing outside
is creativity, is art?

(Or is that too fartsy...)

But that’s a world I might live in
and want to bring people along.

not in this peach ash flavored shit
of cat hair and borderline alcoholic roommates...

For now I look at the solid things
and break them down.

Some pills, effexor, digestable objects of life
that make me see objects the same as everyone else;

a cushion is a cushion,
an Oreo crisp, an Oreo crisp.

But cushions are sometimes Oreo crisps
and a cigarette an abusive summer.

What good is object identification in a world
where we can’t even identify ourselves?
Space around me always shouts.
Why am I the only one listening?

-Shannon Runion

Labor Day Blues

2005-09-05T22:35:50Z

I'm not having the greatest of labor days... but am glad to be off work, except i need money. Honestly, when my friends were going to this bbq in washington square park, i wanted to stay home because i didn't feel good and didnt have 15 dollars to spend on drinks... i'm so broke! well, i decided to go to the bbq and it wasn't fun. i was out of place because it was like being in california with snotty people. the atmosphere was like la jolla or something- weird. but sarah and her boyfriend were there which was cool.

i didn't even feel comfortable around my normal friends. that's because some of them aren't really my friends. and then i was kinda upset for this other reason that doesn't even make sense but I'm not going to talk about it because, like I said, you aren't going to get it and this isn't the place to explain it to you right now.... so, hmmmm....

If you haven't seen it in awhile, watch "A Mighty Wind". Parker posey is so adorable and the movie is my best friend.

corky, my roommate's cate, is depressed. she's the one that was rescued and got run over by a car so her one ear is always bent and can't straighten. she's been pulling her hair out... they call it "over -grooming" in animal psychology... she needs kitty zoloft.

and last nite alyssa's cat accidently burnt his tail on a tea candle... it was really funny... because it was that burnt cat hair smell and he didn't notice it till later then started to examine the new singed fur and funny smell... and the other cat that it was funny too, i think...

well, so like i said, im not in the best of moods, but at least my apartment isn't under water in new orleans.

I had the strangest dream last nite i remembered someone i knew in that city and then had to find them... but i don't know anybody...

if i used writing therapy to figure that out, i'd most likely discover, a part of myself that is underwater inside that needs rescued that i remember in my unconscious but don't acknowledge when i'm awake... but that could be anything... i wonder what shannon that is, and please, will she come out soon, because it is unhealthy to keep parts of yourself drowning for too long... don't you agree?

on a lighter note, i don't have anything very light to say, so i'll say goodbye for now!
sound good?

Byeeeee

shanona

Life is a cabaret...

2005-09-04T17:20:40Z

so, last nite was one of the most interesting Tavern on camac nites to date...
I met a couple who was trying to get me to be in the miss new jersey pageant... can u imagine me in a pageant? hahahahaha. I would have done it for the money... but i am too old. By a year. Yep. Anyways, he requested I sang "Suddenly seymour", so i did. And then "somewhere that's green". I had to because i messed them up so bad a few days ago on thursday when i sang them with nile... i don't know exactly why, except i was feeling kind of low on things and this guy was singing off pitch in my ear and i just couldn't do it. But i turned it around yesterday and I felt better. John's my man! He is so cute. The piano player. Love him!!! I woke up not feeling well. Well, I didn't exactly go to sleep. i ran out of sleeping pills and so i am still awake. of course. woooohooooo. And I am broooooooooke. what's new..... anyone want to give me money?

I have set out on this journey to write a syllabus for my kid improvisation class, assuming enough kids sign up. i ordered a new book that someone told me to order and it has become my new bible. Apparently the women who invented improv as we know it, as an art form, was totally into teaching, studying and working with kids, as am i! perfect fit... her name is viola spolin...

I am doing my November article on three local improv troupes- or two? This one guy, Rick, who taught a one day class i took, is going to give me some kid improv clues and im going to write an article about him... I may also see his fringe show and review that for the online publication- this is all for that philly theatre review.

The doug anderston article is online now, the condensed version, and the full version will be printed in october. I also am working on an online plug for his fringe show and will write a review for his show too, if allowed.

I spent this week at work in training and painting and cleaning the community center (fuck) and passing out fliers for doug (which was fun because i felt important) haha. I love Doug. He is the gay uncle and supportive family member I never had. I really love the guy. Honest to God. I am so lucky I met him and lucky he teaches me and I get it.

Well, I don't feel good. I'm off to buy some zicam. Isn't that exciting????

With what money, you ask? good question. I don't know. But I will find some. somewhere. Somehow.

Shannon

Ps, I just got a message from a so called someone at work saying "why do you hate me?"

Life is a cabaret... kid cabaret

2005-08-31T01:36:55Z

so the madness at work has grown thicker... i've almost had to quit on a few occasions. this guy is harrassing me and the kids are getting to me- because i care too much about them? I can't explain it, but when I work with kids i get closer to myself and that makes me cry... it's a good thing to remember me and want to be me again, but a scary thing too... but it's good thing to want to be shannon, for all of those people out there wondering perhaps "whatever happened to that girl".

here i am in philadelphia, a block off of fucking south street, living above a doctor's office, with a roomate and 4 crazy cats, one that is an alien... either that or he escaped from a chemical testing lab...

I work with kids, teach preschool and theater and creative writing, afterschool- kid cabaret and kidprov... if kids sign up. and one did today! a girl whose mom said when i handed her a flier at open house "oh she'll never do that" well she called today and said "my daughter is begging, i have to let her try" yay!!!! of course you do!!! i know my kids and I know them well... kid cabaret is the answer, i swear... for certain kids it is just the thing and i have invented my own little secret form of therapy... haha...

i am so scared of this semester and everything- i need money... i wish i had good enough credit and could have gotten that loan because now im so screwed and i don't want to drop to part time just to get a tiny reimbursement cuz then i lose my scholarship... poopy shit that's what it is.

bleh.

tomorrow i hafta pass out fliers for kidprov and fliers for DA, my mentor's show. lots to do- tonite is sex dwarf party, and it's not perverted, if that's how it sounds... i will maybe have fun? Alyssa and beth and i are going so far... we will see

bye for now

shanona ryder

little shoplifter

2005-08-24T22:50:40Z

Today we took our kids to the aquarium. First off, we had to sneak 7 children in because the center didn't account for 37 kids. That was a treat. so we are teaching the lying is ok. "now everyone with no wristband don't talk about it... and go in between the kids with the wrist bands. don't make eye contact with security." and we successful enter the building. i spend all day chasing them thru shark tunnels, yelling at them not to turn the starfish on their backs... i deal with a bloody nose issue in the gift shop... watch the hippos, sneak a coffee into at least 6 exhibits that say no food or drink... get yelled at in the lunchroom by a custodian for opening up a door that says "alarm will sound". The OTHER camp got to go thru the door. Why shouldn't we?
Then the fun part of the day. This one 7 year old got caught shoplifting a whale keychain. she had it hid under her dress and later on we found out and made her take it back to the store and apologize. well, her mom informed me apparently she's done this before.
But then im thinking, well, we stole from the aquarium this morning by sneaking 7 kids either. But that is our boss's fault...
anyhow this 7 year old- she was adopted two years ago. don't tell me her real mother may be in prison too. i can't take any more children with their mom's in prison this summer. it's really sad. yes, i want to be a child psychologist one day, maybe... but not yet. hell, i dont even have my fucking god damned bachelor's degree yet even though i have 180 college credits.
Anyhow- i'm excited- i asked this casting director i know for an audition, and he actually said "yes"- wow. scary. now i need a headshot and actually need to get my ass in gear and figure out what the hell is going on. the musical is called '50 west 50'. it's new- and the character i'd be auditioning for is a 22 year old songwriter from boston... haha- well my hair is blackish right now---- hmmm...
im bored...
joe's coming over to watch "weeds" episode 3. i watched it last nite... but what the hell...
Shannon

hello, im back

2005-08-24T02:13:31Z

Good morning, shannon is back in town. i forgot I had this live journal thing until Alyssa reminded me. Alyssa is the girl that was supposed to be my new roommate, but good thing she isn't...and i don't mean that in a bad way.
she responded to my great ad on craigslist, that if it were listed on a personals ad would have attracted my future wife. But it was a roommate ad, and alyssa was the first person i called back because she was the coolest person who responded. she wanted to live alone but liked the ad so decided to check it out anyways. then she didnt take the room...
a few weeks later joe's ex b/f accidentally called me to woody's. when i got there, he didn't know why i showed up and told me he meant to call someone else, so he ditched me and i sat at the bar by myself... then i saw her out of the corner of my eye. she looked familiar... oh yeah, that was...'shannon' she says... "alyssa!" and then we met again.
I'm so glad- I'd say more about what I'm thinking, but it's the internet, nobody is really reading... except maybe alyssa, and then i sound crazy... but what's new???

Just babysat for one of my lesbian mommies who went on a date with her adopted chinese child's "aunt",... they actually kissed in front of me.... awww. see? i have been WAITING for that from one of them... im sad they can't be open, that they don't let themselves be... what straight society doesn't seem to understand is, GAY PEOPLE WHO WANT CHILDREN REALLY WANT CHILDREN. How many straight parents do we see who don't want their kids, who end up mistreating them, abusing them, neglect... they weren't even planning for children, etc... but that isn't true for gay people- for them it is really a choice, and a difficult one.
what is wrong with people sometimes anyhow?
a lot.
But we already knew that, now didn't we.
like the asshole at monkeybar last week.
my saturday entails: a 7 year old b-day party at 12, another 7 year old party at 2, playing 'god' for 1 minute over the mike in a gay man's cabaret show. don't you wish you were me?

shanona ryder

"so hush now, peace, hey- the babysitter's here... the best babysitter's here." -Dar Williams

Rear window, the musical

2005-08-08T03:35:10Z

REAR WINDOW, THE MUSICAL- BY ROB BLACKWELL, ONE OF MY FAVORITE PEOPLE. HE WROTE IT FOR TODD WADDINGTON, I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW. GENIOUS.

DA IS THE FABULOUS GAY UNCLE I NEVER HAD- I LOVE HIM TO DEATH- I MET HIM AT TAVER ON CAMAC LAST NITE- AND HE JUST HAS THIS AURA ABOUT HIM... HE KNOWS SOMETHING WE DON'T KNOW, AND HE'S NOT GOING TO TELL US. STICK WITH HIM (I DO AND I WILL) AND ONE DAY YOU WILL GET THE STORY, WILL BE INVITED TO THE PARTY. I AM SO LUCKY TO HAVE BEEN INSPIRED BY SOMEONE- AND AS I TOLD HIM LAST NITE- HE HAS TO HAVE FAITH IN ONE OF HIS STUDENTS- i KNOW HE'S LOOKING DOWN ON THINGS RIGHT NOW- BUT HE REALLY IS SO AMAZING AND I REALLY AM SO LUCKY

I VISITED FRANKLIN AND HIS DAD TONIGHT- SO SWEET. SO CUTE.

LAST NITE DOVI CALLED-

IF IT WERENT FOR THESE KIDS I COULDN'T STAY AT OLD PINE, BUT THEY ARE JUST SO CUTE.

THEY ARE ALSO A PART OF A FAMILY I NEVER HAD-

ANYWAYS- MY ROOMMATE HAD TIVO
NITE NITE

SHANNON

long time no write

2005-06-01T17:22:01Z

ok my life has changed a lot since back then.

I just got back from Kentucky, where I spent six days rolling in the grass. Okay, I didn't roll in the grass, but I did look at it a lot, which was nice. i performed my first 15 minutes of my cabaret show for my dad and he loved it, which was great!

I also intentionally ran into my very first boyfriend. Last you heard of me I was with Andy, except he went back to England and never came back. Lord only knows why not, I am the most beautiful girl in America. Okay, not the most beautiful, but the oddest. How could you not love me?

Justin, that is his name was not even scared of how much I had changed. It isn't that I changed, it's that I let myself out. I have always been me. Sometimes I am more me than others, due to certain circumstances... Illness, dead bodies in my room, etc.

if you know me you know the stories. If you don't know me, you will know the stories when you read my book that will be made into a play and an indie film starring none other than the great and powerful parker posey.

Let me take this time to honor Justin. He teaches music in Indiana to highschoolers. I teach musical theatre to kids preschool- 16 at the moment... I just don't get paid anything to do it. Saturday marks my first ever "Kid Cabaret" class. Isn't that genius? And in the fall I get to teach it at a professional theatre. Can you imagine Charlie fucking Gilbert's face when he sees that?

I can't help wanting to prove myself to that man. I used to respect him until he saw nothing in me. now that I am more confident of a person I realize i don't need other people to see something in me in order to see myself... but it sure does help.

Last week my kiddies performed my own deranged version of "annie and oz" - can u imagine? I had them sing 22 songs. It was fucking broadway kids at old pine community center. brilliant. :-)

Joe and I are writing a play that might get picked up in ny. I cant announce it here in case someone steals it. everyone always steals my ideas. no more of that shit. ok?

i hafta go now. But check back for some postings of this semesters writing.

about one more year left, everyone. of school that is.

and then i hafta keep going cuz i cant afford those loans. god help me.

shannon

did i mention I am an indigo adult? I am sure i am.

I will explain that later since i know you dont know what that means. if you do- i am impressed.

:-)

love and hugs

SHANSBY the great

brn2entrtn @ 2004-11-14T14:39:00

2004-11-14T19:41:15Z

Hey guys- i thought you'd like an update maybe...

Last week I was attacked on the bus on the way to New york. Yes. Please send me your hugs.

This week I have my cabaret show tonite- my class isn't the best, but we have fun. I am singing Somewhere that's Green and Teaching third Grade (from Ruthless)... nobody is coming I know so i should be fine. :-)

Break a leg, Shannon... Ok. I will.

Shannon

brn2entrtn @ 2004-10-28T10:22:00

2004-10-28T14:26:13Z

Good morning.... I wanted to tell you about last nite... Cabaret class- I was having a tough time and what I thought was a bad nite, because for the first time in a long time I realized how important all of this is to me...

After class, this actor/singer--- soooo fabulous- think Sutton Foster- but better... told me he loved and was inspired by my work and would i be interested in him writing me into his upcoming show in January? What!?! It was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me before.

A bad nite turned good.

Especially when Dean and Al called me to meet them at McGillan's. Happy times... And Dean and I had fun bitching until 230 in the morning. I love Dean- he's the best. And Al is hilarious and great too- he breakdances and you'd have to see it to get what I am talking about.

Cheers to the hope of turning it all around,
Shannon

first saturday off in a year and a half!!!

2004-10-23T21:11:21Z

WORDS THAT MEAN SHANNON

swirling
eyes
pinch
drama
Delta
Scamda
lose
lost
behind
deteriorate
beneath
below
I know
go
Y'all
lego brick
liberty bell
edelweiss
gain
die
dinner
loan
me
thinner
friend?
Bailey's
misty
kiss
laughing
silly
stupid
girl
raging
human
being
abused
locked
bruised
toaster
ring
bus
stoli
six
effexor
reflector
bran flakes
bones
root
green

****an exercise in personal memory---- fun stuff--- you guys should try this***

Snapshots

15805 Lime Grove Road

Freshly scrubbed rosy cheeks dressed with smile,
matching lady pink leg warmers atop bubble gum converse sneakers
dancing on Bernie’s freshly cut grass.

********

The Wrong Bus Home

Curvy street downhill,
away from places known-
hidden in green grass
where he gave me peanut M&Ms to hush.
I hid them under bed but always saw them there
and him in my head and never saw the face.
Eighth grade girls with gum and boys
stare daggers at braided me in plaid,
clutching Snoopy doggie lunch pail
with half eaten smashed bologna and mustard.
“Cut bread in fours instead of two today, mommy,
I’m extra hungry”.

********
Home.

Stuck behind sister’s bed
tucked away from monster-
he eats me if I move before 5.
5?
I don’t know how to read the time.
“Mommy, why does everything have to be so certain?”
“Shannon, put your socks away.”
Couldn’t reach top drawer so white dresser fell on me.
********

Alarm clocks forget to ring.

Check it 10 times,
12 times.
8 o’clock pm set for,
click,
6 am.
8 o’clock pm set for,
click,
6 am.
Parents snore and won’t wake me.
I’ll miss Spelling
and won’t get to spell the 15
challenge words correctly.
Won’t get to be the best.
Stay awake- listen to Grandfather clock for time,
won’t miss Spelling.
***********

Echinodermata

5th grade science
Sick Shannon
Mom said to sis
I picked up a little weight.
Splashed my gruesome self
into pool.
Too much of Grandma’s Strawberry Rhubarb pie.
Laughs as I sink.
Want to hit head on bottom.
Want to prove something.
Need to prove “sick”.
**************

Wendy

Sick. Giant Green Globs of thick mucus line sinus cavaties. To heal I stick vaporizer in front of face. Must be able to sing the song tomorrow so I can play Gala. I will heal faster with vaporizer in face.
Gala Night. No voice. Dream role. Can’t go on. Play Indian instead in plush green velvet dress. Cry through Ugh- A- Wug number, still mouthing the words.
No more trips to Neverland.
************

Toyland

Orange County, California. Bitch after Bitch after Bitch after snobby stuck up Bitch.
Roommate won’t go home for Thanksgiving. Mad at me cuz I spilled her orange juice and used toilet paper marked with blue M for MICHELLE.
*************

The Last Piece of Mail.

Do you want to go to school in New York? Do you want to be brainwashed and have your life taken away from you? Do you want to live with Heroine Dealers, Rapists, and mumu moustache women named Anna Louisa? Do you want to share a bathroom with a pot smoking rapist who wants to carve your name into his wooden chair? If so, audition (we accept everyone) for SCAMDA, otherwise known as the American Musical and Traumatic, I mean, Dramatic Academy.
***********

Sue.

She sneaks out the back door, says, “I have one room left”. I move in Hurricane. Into dead person’s room. Door banged in. Fermaldahide, dried bloody band-aids and vomit on wall, dirt soaked tub, frozen over popsicles in freezer. And at the bottom of the floor, soaking up the stench, my three month old black ballet shoes to match the black tights and leotard I wore when teach told me my identity and sold me my first set of Metabolift.
**************

The First Day I left.

Michael comes to new room. Not 73 H. Gives me ring for power. Says not to be surprised when he knocks on my door one day again. Surrounded by boxes and sweating with tears, I lug my green wheeled suitcase to Broadway. He shuts the door. Goodbye. I break the ring in Chicago. The guy on the plane is from Interlochen. I have to go back.
***************

Thanksgiving Day Parade

Gap XS sales rack black long sleeved tee,
grey skirt once tight, now flowing, creating room for loss of me.
Goodbye rotting room
in someone else’s closet.
No more cling cling sounds
of Strawberry Slim Fast cans rushing towards bottom of make shift garbage pail.
Pictures peeled off one by one,
revealing true grains of someone else’s story.
No more long awake nights
with heart beating out of chest.
Least not in this bed.
Grey stoop awaits.
Roach gone.
Green suitcase.
He sits on stoop
unaffected by frozen behind
or my failure to look back
out of Super Shuttle window.
Unwrap stale piece of Big Red.
We move on.
******************

Welcome to the City of Brotherly Love.

Is that Ben Franklin on top? Learn later is William Penn.
First time for everything.
New city, same place.
New scars, over deepest sores.
Avenue of the Arts, or lack thereof.
Starting number- 98 pounds.
I’m singer-
with nobody and a normal roommate- not from Orange County, not from Squammish.
She dances.
I don’t eat.
At 78 pounds I fall out for 3 days onto hallway floor,
wake up, unharmed, unnoticed.
Happy Thanksgiving.
***************

Far From Skid Row....I Dream We’ll Go.... Somewhere That’s Green.

Surprised to see me
at first semester UARTS jury.
Skin covered skeleton me.
Dressed in plaid.
Buns on head to cover balding scalp.
Sing a song.
“Anyone Can Whistle”
Not me.
But watch me try.
*****************

That First Night

Same city, new me.
Dark hair,
dark circles,
new shape to same skin.
Seems to fit perfectly with hers.
Back stiff.
Back safe.
Stroke me gently.
Arms pull me in.
Safe, scared, sacred
alone.
****************

Just Me, You, and the Toaster

Won’t let me leave.
Hostage in my own home.
Raging beast in her
wanting to consume
or shatter me.
Arms spread against door,
evil glare in eye,
presses me towards futon couch.
Bruises chest,
pinches neck,
toaster thrown at leg.
Bits of crumbs fly and scatter across short, bland carpet.
Stay strong enough not to pick myself up.
Stay strong, don’t recognize the threat.
Took me four years.
**************

Seroquel

Have I taken enough?
To fulfill this spur of the moment obsessive sensation?
10, 15, 20 or so.
Where are the rest of the samples?
Fumble for them in dark drawer.
Glasses on bed, can’t see.
Pop them out of pouch into me.
Crawl back into bed without concern.
Ambulance. Men. Hospital.
10 hours out.
Too serene to be scared.
Poking, asking questions.
Cannot stay awake.
Slowly slowly slowly dying.
Pulling at my toes.
Can’t feel.
Can and don’t want to.
Tubes, needles, pins.
No response.
10 days later,
I live.
******************

Would You Like a Double Decker Bus Tour?

Shit. Not another day at 12th and Market. New English guy will fire me for lack of tickets sold. Instantaneous capture of all negative thoughts. He makes me me. Night after night after night in his hotel room, I see life as it may have been. As it is. Soon I think I’m me. And it’s exactly where I want to stay.
*****************

MORE WORDS THAT MEAN SHANNON!!!

unecessary
nervousness
pain
gain
lost
bones
wicked
insane
Andy
joy
Michael
loss
live
learn
trying
costs
tubes
drugs
Effexor
skin
mind
blowing
cocktails
gin
vanilla
Stoli
carriage
rides
music
sick
solgege
Mick
London
lambs
stampede
still
quiet
berries
Clonapyn
pill
crying
dry
rape
pine
dimples
darting
downward
sign
bottom
lacking
ladder
lick
Jen
gone
mind
sick

Love you peoples. Aren't I the bestest memory person ever (Dayv!!!!)

haha

SHAN

poem revised

2004-10-22T22:07:14Z

REVISION POEM ONE.

TRAIN TO TRENTON

Squishy Swedish Fish sink
by black licorice bait.
Death in stomach.

Counting calories:
Feast of side salad, 100.
and Diet Coke (Vanilla Stoli, 100?)
in train station "bar"
not enough to sustain
personal psychodynamic interview.

Findings reveal
ink blot is ink blot.

Words so close,
crunchedtogether
yet lost in unwoven letters
made into one.

No texture, no impulse, no soul.

Black runny clue
atop inspiration to spell.

See erasable ink blot before eye,
inkblot covering news,
smudging, concealing dew.

Melts if warmer.
But cold fingers play one sound,
no song,
many triads at once.

Head rings tune-
resonates praise.
Brings to mouth salivating
desire to druel
on page.

Mesh sound of dripping ink.

Red sour cherry ball
dives into last night's Watermelon Pucker.
Splashes decaying fish in chewed up head.

Bounce, bounce "Wake up, I want to play!"
But fishy's already dead.
Flown to Candyland Eternity.

Left with skeletopn frame
of an undigested flicker.

Bummed ball bounces.
Bounce factor low.

Slips on thought,
rolls.

Rolls, Rolls, Rolls.
"Rolling easier!!!"
And fun to slide around
liquid waste.

Past particles of self
gather to become
a piece.

But return joinedtowhole.
Nice to rub shiny slick surface.
Polished newness exciting.
Color to same old self.

Apple sour ring joins party,
only half torn,
falls down tract,
circle still in tact.

Intertube in bile river
rests in sludge
so cherry ball can relax.

Ball doesn't want to relax
if only to be supported
by broken intertube.

Ring wraps around ball,
mending the break
atop Swedish Fishie funeral.

Ball, now sad.
Captured in jelly arms.
Couldn't stand alone.

Ring, now sad, too.
Ring and ball mourn loss of separation
that made ring ring
and ball ball.

Fish, ball, ring
now unidentifiable
slurpy subjects
who can no longer
convince newcomers
candy is candy.

I throw away candy bag.
I've lost myself
by capture
of broken ring.

Can't be something
when a part of everything.

Can't clain "nothing"
when something still exists.

I carrie a fishie funeral,
sunken ball and ripped ring.
Swirling, singing, shrieking
in core of me.

Open my mouth and let them sing-
Erase erasable ink.

-Shannon Runion
October, 2004

I quit the Big bus yesterday...

2004-10-18T00:03:22Z

I Have My Own Cow. His Name is Rupert. He is All White With A
BlackSpot on His Bu-utt.

Emergen-C crusted across dollar store glass.
Morning B-12 hit me when?
Marlboro Box atop wood.
Would he come December?

Wrap myself in her blanket.
Cover to hide stain we made.
Breathe to feel time he came.
Exhale thought I may have felt
if me meant me,
and Serotonin knew how to fire.

Margarita Mojito breath
for no one to smell.
Sink steps away.
London far.
Pen near.
Not much to say.

Coats atop cart to launder-
unveil this winter.
Bus on fire.

Lit it myself two years ago.
Saw Tacey, the roommate-
nothing left to pierce.
Crusted Bran flakes four years ago-
hand in bottle, no place to go.
Crashed on floor, Thanksgiving day.
The year before,
left him to stay.

I became me sometime ago.
But the answers to that are nowhere I know.

Life full of a cigarette break.
First friend inspired to eat chocolate cake.
Leigh, she said, I was better that day.
No, I knew death so near.
Scary but surely living through tears.
I came back, I saw her-
I saw she was me.
Klonopin, Seroquel, Effexor and tea.
English Vanilla,
sweet yet so strong.
Mojito, burrito.
I sing through that song.

Linda, she said, I’m too nervous.
I’m fat.
Pounds are not worth it.
Life told me that.

Look back and see
the remote changing now.
I’m 14. I’m sick.
I have Rupert, the cow.

All white with black on his ass,
Alex. He screamed
in front of the cast.

I used to be someone he wanted to know.
Now I dance behind the tree
in the Wizard of Oz show.

Hear me, please.
I’ve so much to say.
It’s not just a word,
or a song, or a play.

I’m something that sticks out,
sore as a kitten,
Gluten. Beer. Urban Outfitter’s mitten.

Plaid. Mint. Andes. Mine.
“Kitchen” full with dollar store cow.
Decoration, Celebration!
Radio on mute.
Goodbye to job
and the lady with fruit.

All just a dream,
a mystery, a joke.
Nothing that can’t cure
by Stoli and Coke.

Diet, now, that I wish I were small.
At least I don’t barf
in the Florence Y’all.

I’m proud to be me.
I don’t care if you’re you.
Don’t treat me like shit.
Don’t smother my clue.

Mom said I was special.
I believed her, and now
I know I can make it,
someplace...somehow.

Glass still stands.
B-12 away.
Cigarettes empty.
Jen Gone.
I stay.

I sing
some notes.
I cry.
He doesn’t know.
He’ll see I have made
blanket to cuddle.
Match lit.
Candle crafted
Shannon pit.

if my friends could see me now

2004-10-14T14:17:34Z

Guess what everyone? I got that job! The one I was supposed to get this summer... teaching theatre and creative writing and musical theatre and whatever else i invent to kids after school! kindergarden to 5th graders... now i have no time- i work at the big bus still, take full time school classes, and 2 tap lessons, voice, cabaret, and acting... how does she do it? I dont know.... haha... But this job will make me feel better about myself and is finally something in the wacky field i am inventing for myself : acting+singing+writing+psychology........ theatreology? creatreapy? theratheatrics? i dunno... something.... well, wish me luck folks.

Shannon

PS- my cabaret class is performing on Nov 14... teacher just called me to tell me i should sing "if my friends could see me now".... ha ha... He told me this morning something along the lines of, "i am fine" and "charlie gilbert shouldn't have assumed those kinds of things of you".... hehe. yay

brn2entrtn @ 2004-10-11T13:31:00

2004-10-11T17:32:35Z

TRAIN TO TRENTON

Squishy Swedish fish
died in stomach.
Sank to death
counting calories
and black licorice bait.
Feast of side salad,
diet coke (and vanilla Stoli)
in train station “bar”
not enough to
sustain personal psychodynamic
interview.
Findings reveal ink blot
is ink blot.
Words so close,
crunched together
yet lost in unwoven letters
made into one.
No texture, no impulse, no soul.
Black runny clue
atop inspiration to spell.
See inkblot before eye,
inkblot covering news,
smudging, concealing dew.
Melts if warmer.
But cold fingers play one sound.
Many triads at once.
No song.
Head rings tune
of praise,
brings to mouth salivating desire,
druel on page.
Mesh sound of dripping ink.
Red sour cherry ball
dives into last night’s Pucker,
splashes decaying fish in chewed up head.
“Wake up, I want to play ”
But fishy’s already dead.
Flown to Candyland eternity.
Left with skeleton frame
of an undigested flicker.
Ball bounces,
bounce radius low.
Slip on thought,
rolls.
Rolling easier.
And fun to slide around
liquid waste
Past particles of self
gather to become
a piece,
but return joinedtowhole.
Nice to rub slick surface,
makes shinier.
Newness exciting.
Color to same old self.
Apple sour ring joins party,
only half torn-
circle still in tact.
Rests in sludge
for ball to relax.
Intertube in bile river.
Ball says “no ”
Ring- “That’s what you think”
Captures ball in belly.
Conquest satisfaction
atop Swedish Fishie Funeral.
Ball, now sad.
Ring, too.
Mourn loss of piece
that made ring ring and ball ball.
Now, unidentifiable slurpy subjects
no longer convince
newcomers candy is candy.
Can’t be something when a part of everything.
Can’t claim “nothing” when something still exists.
I carry fishie funeral.
I know the difference.
I know the powers of erasable ink.

and i dont gotta go right now

2004-10-04T19:30:42Z

Hey Friends!

I am sure you all know my trademark commercial which will one day make me famous...

"Where's the Potty?"

"That all Depends"

"Depends (pull the adult diapers up)... It's a Potty in your Panties!!!!"

Hilarious, I know. And I am always making new Depends scenarios... Lately, I have been obsessed with the Big Bus double decker scenario... Tour guide that has to pee no longer has to stop at the Marriot, or Drexel or the kimmel center (yes, many a time during my tour guide days I had to stop the bus!!!) Or the passengers might have to pee, so we could give them Depends with our Big Bus Logo- how funny that would be

Well, once again someone has stolen my beautiful idea... On TV today, there was a double decker commercial!!!! A tour guide on top of a double decker bus!!! "And I don't gotta go right now".... FUNNY! Andy, are you reading this??? "I take a pill"... hehe, inside joke about a tourist in London who HAD to get off the bus and said to the passengers when the bus had to stop "I take a pill..." Hilarious!

Guess what? I can hear again! Went to the doc to get my ear flushed. Fantastic. Great. So happy... I had to laugh, though, the student doctor was nervous cuz the senior doc was watching him try to flush my ear... He was shaking and i was afraid he was gonna touch the water pick to the inside wall and injure me!!! I hafta wonder, in Pyschology right now we are studying how Psychiatrists of today have little to no psychological trying... Is that what these new doctors are doing to our brains? Scraping them nervously and causing permanant damage. My class is fascinating... I should post some of our stuff here... fabulous. Last week I was the class teacher assistant and i got to mediate the discussion... My teacher wrote me and said I was an outstanding psychology student!!! YAY ME!

Okay, the major reason of this post is to post my I hate Trolley song here so you can all read it delightfully.... You can tell i was having a bad day at work. I wrote this in those last 15 minutes when no tourists are around. Read out loud to yourself, especially you big bus employees. It is fun.

************************************************
lOOK! HERE COMES THE TROLLEY,
ALL BROKEN AND REAL SMALL.
IT RIDES BEHIND THE BIG BUS,
WHICH STANDS ABOVE THEM ALL.

THE DUCKS THEY FLOAT IN WATER,
BUT I WARN YOU, WHEN YOU QUACK,
YOU MIGHT CHOKE AND SWALLOW,
TO THE BIG BUS YOU'LL COME BACK.

THE CARRIAGES ARE SMELLY,
THE TOURS ARE NO GOOD.
THE GUIDES WILL BUY SOME CRACK COCAINE-
KEEP YOUR CASH, YOU REALLY SHOULD.

THEN HOP ONTO THE BIG BUS,
HOP OFF, TOO, IF YOU LIKE.
IT'S EASIER THAN WALKING,
AND MUCH FASTER THAN YOUR BIKE.

DON'T WORRY WE'LL SLOW DOWN
TO TAKE SOME PICTURES FOR THE BOOKS,
BUT DO NOT BE SURPRISED
WHEN MISTER TROLLEY GIVE YOU LOOKS.

THE TROLLEY IS JUST JEALOUS.
WE HAVE TWO OF THEIRS IN ONE.
YOU CAN'T HUNT IN PHILLY,
BUT TO TROLLEY, POINT YOUR GUN.

SMASH THE EDGES OF ITS PANES,
SLAM IT HARD AND WELL.
THE BIG BUS GOES TO HEAVEN,
THE TROLLEY'S GO TO HELL.

YOU'LL SEE THEM ONE SUMMER,
THEY WILL LOOK ALMOST THE SAME,
BUT THEY WILL NOT SAY "TROLLEY",
THEY'LL CARRY THE BIG BUS NAME.

WE WILL BE THE BEST IN TOWN,
A MONOPOLY WE WILL GET.
WE'LL DROWN THE DUCK AS WELL
AND GROW BIG AND BIGGER YET.

WE'LL KICK OVER THE CARRIAGES.
THE HORSES, WE'LL SET FREE-
YOU WILL RIDE THE BIG BUS,
TO THE UPPER DECK YOU'LL FLEE.

RIDE THE TOUR IN LONDON,
SAND IT THRU DUBAIS.
BUT BIG BUS PHILADELPHIA
WILL MAKE YOUR SPIRITS FLY!

HIGHER THAN THE TREES, YOU'LL GO,
BUT PLEASE SIR, MIND YOUR HEAD.
IT ISN'T THAT WE LOVE YOU, SIR,
WE JUST CAN'T SEE YOU DEAD.

UNLESS YOUR NAME IS MARK
AND YOU WORK FOR TROLLEY WORKS.
IF YOU SEE HIM, BRING HIM HERE-
HE HAS BIG AND TROLL-LIKE QUIRKS.

HIS CAPTURE'S WORTH A TICKET
ON THE DOUBLE DECKER RIDE,
WE WON'T CHARGE YOU FULL PRICE,
FOR YOU, WE'LL LET IT SLIDE.

I HOPE THAT THIS LITTLE RHYME
HAS GIVEN YOU A CLUE,
THAT IF YOU COME TO PHILLY,
AND DON'T RIDE, YOU'RE CUCKOO!

IF YOU PLAN TO LAND HERE,
LIKE WILL PENN AND HIS GROUP,
AND DO NOT FIND THE BIG BUS,
YOU MUST EAT PIGEON POOP.

THIS IS COMING FROM A GIRL
WHO'S WORKED HERE ALL YEAR LONG.
I'M SPEAKING SO PLEASE LISTEN
TO MY "I HATE TROLLEY" SONG.

OH! HERE COMES A TROLLEY,
IT IS RUNNING STILL.
PLEASE BRING A GUN AND SHOOT
OR JAB ME IF YOU WILL.

I CAN'T STAND TO SEE IT,
IT MESSES WITH MY BRAIN.
I TAKE PICTURES OF IT,
IN MY MIND, AND GO INSANE.

SO PLEASE COME AND RESCUE
THE SALESMAN WITH A SOUL.
I NEED TO SELL A TICKET,
TO KICK ASS, IS MY GOAL.

THE PEOPLE HERE, THEY COME AND GO,
THE TOUR GUIDES, AND SUCH.
BUT I'LL BE HERE AT 80,
STILL SMOKING, AND ON CRUTCH.

LONG LIVE OUR COMPANY!
MAROON AND YELLOW FACED.
SEMPER MELIORA IN OMNIBUS,
WITH PRESENCE AND WITH GRACE.

THANK YOU MUCH FOR HEARING
MY BIG BUS BIG BUS SONG.
CUZ I MUST KEEP MY SPIRITS UP-
I'LL WORK HERE ALL YEAR LONG!

-SHANNON RUNION

wasn't that fun!?!

take care all,

shannon

rainy ish day

2004-09-28T15:01:19Z

Good morning everyone. I woke up too early, despite my sleepy pills... 6 something. Watched the Today show and have decided never to move to Florida. Why move there, folks, with those hurricanes? What the hell is the point? Move somewhere else, damnit... and visit disneyworld during non hurricane season. Yes.

I had my first acting class with anne at the wilma last nite. Anne introduced me to the class and said i had this amazing talent she knows she could never replicate... something i did in a monologue six months ago that she raved over. I am so happy she remembers some moment- i actually had an impression. Good stuff.
I love anne because she is a teacher that actually wants to give things to students- make life better- whether or not they ever become a professional. She teaches at college level too, and says she'd never teach like teachers at Uarts. She says it is not her job to tell someone they can't, but to give them the tools ao they can if they perserve enough.

She asked for me to explain to the class what it has done to me over the past year... it was so fun to describe and fulfilling...

I also loved talking to anne before class about andy. She always loves my stories and says i am a natural solo performer because so much of what i say is a story that even if someone else was telling wouldnt seem a story at all. I am thankful to have found this class.... among the members of this new group are
1)a lawyer
2)a real estate agent/teacher
3)a gay actor from my cabaret class with a masters in counseling
4)a writer of screenplays, plays, poems
5)me
6)someone named Jessica who hasn't showed up yet.

such an interesting group, really.

Classes are coming along... in abmormal psych this week i am the moderator and get to help with discussion questions, which is totally fun. I love to just write my opinions without discretion, and get people to do the same thing. it really is quite an adventure. The reading is getting to me... difficult and long and hard to stay focused without taking many naps... anyone ever read James Hillman before? So cool. You should.

Okay, well. I'm off.

I miss Andy, arg. Yesterday i called him when he was having curry with friends. They didn't believe i existed and when andy was trying to convince them, I called! Perfect timing. He was grateful.

off to watch more I love lucy and then to read some more.

bye bye... I leave you with this---

"We met at Starbucks. Not at the same starbucks, but at the starbucks across the street from each other".

If you dont know where that quote comes from, you are not my friend... If u want to be my friend, watch "best in show"

Thank you, and have a nice day.

SHANNON

brn2entrtn @ 2004-09-27T17:28:00

2004-09-27T21:29:43Z

Wannabee Marshmallow

Reddi- Egg inflates.

Wannabee Marshmallow
in non-microwaveable
dollar store bowl.

Hop towards it,
tripping on Dell
atop futon
serving as desk, dining
and deprivation.

Marlboro Red,
not lite,
fills lungs
with new cough.

Swallow the wannabee,
coughing to consciousness
tastes of salt, smoke
and English vanilla tea.

English because he’s English.

Tea to mend cough.

Caused by 8 hour cigarette break called my job?

Or the self employment not to expose.

Squeeze into
4 year too old designer lenses.

Peruse weekly reading.
Abnormal Psychology.
Lay back long enough
to decide....

I can’t do this

Reading’s not right.
Inaudible moments.

Hear me
Echoing a yelling
version of myself.
I create an episodic hack.

Have not yet swallowed.
Twinings helps?

Out of page falls
calling card.

Call him.
Loves me.
Owns farm
with baby lambs
stampeding towards
unobtainable feed.

But I can obtain Reddi-Egg,
voice non-song written on page,
smoke more puffs.

Until I decide more is an option.

Until Then,
futon becomes stationary rest-
place breath tickles urge to speak,
swallow

And taste this moment
before toxic tongue
melts non version of me
I know I know how to inflate.

Shannon Runion
September 26, 2004

Excuse me, what time is for come the bus????

2004-09-26T11:34:34Z

Hello All! I am not ready for another day at the Big Bus. Some asshole yesterday told me I had Big Legs! And I asked James and he agreed and said, "But that is what guys like". It really pissed me off and hurt my feelings! But a customer saw it and gave me a 6 dollar tip because he felt bad for me!!!! But then I was 10 dollars short at the end of the day, so we all know where that money went. ah well, my friends.

Basically, all that is new is I miss Andy more each day he is gone. He went Bye Bye to London on Monday nite with his friend Shane. WE think Andy should move to America and become an ebay trader. Yeah. I think he should help the Bus Company here, but Big Bus England can be narrow and they want to see the bus fail one more winter before fixing it next year. Arg. Arg. Arg.

I miss Andy! He may come to Cali for Christmas, or I may go the Farm in Scottland and get involved in a lamb stampede or a fight with a hyper rat eating cat! Yay!!!

Dad and Shalene went to Vermont and drove back thru Philly to take me to dinner. OF course, you know Dad, he gave me 3 hour notice. We ate cuban food and I had 2 cuban drinks. If you have never had mojito I suggest you go to a cuban bar right now!

Last nite Dean and I went to Cosi and had totally toasted almond mochas and salad and made fun of how the Bus wants to open up a tour in Mobile Alabama. What the hell? But of course, I have already volunteered myself. Who could give up an opportunity to do double decker bus tours in alabama????? "Shannon to Bob. A KKK member just boarded the bus because he has mistaken the second deck of tourists dressed in Big Bus rain ponchos as a KKK celebration". He he. "Here we are, folks. 2 pm, time for deer hunting. At 3 there will be arts and crafts for the kids. We will make gun racks out of hooves, and at 6 begins our BBBQ (big bus bar-B Q) hehe he he.....

School is getting me down. Abnormal Psychology.... yikes. Everyone in my class is already working in the field somehow! It took me 2 and a half hours last nite just to read one chapter! But my book came with this cool cd- rom that gave me some visuals of mental hospitals in the early 1900s. Yikes. The field has come far but has long to go.

We are doing the same curriculum as the Princeton abnormal psych class. Wow, I feel smarter already.

Ok, time to inhale more coffee and take a shower, and squeeze my "big legs" into my big bus skirt. Go me!

Can't wait to come home again and do some more reading and watch some happy television.

I feel like i cant take my other two classes- they havent started yet, but i am already overwhelmed! icky ick.

ok. talk to y'all soon~

"Welcome to Big Bus Mobile"

Shan