the part that stares

2011-08-08T00:16:00.001+01:00

The only hope for me is you.

2006-11-02T23:59:00.000Z

"Being born a woman is my awful tragedy. From the moment I was conceived I was doomed to sprout breasts and ovaries rather than penis and scrotum; to have my whole circle of action, thought and feeling rigidly circumscribed by my inescapable feminity. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars- to be a part of a scene, anonomous, listening, recording - all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night..."

The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

It's the American Way!

2006-09-22T16:16:00.000+01:00

Probably fake, but amusing anyways..

2006-07-23T17:49:00.000+01:00

We step through walls, we step through reality.

All the world seems as it should and not as it does and this knowledge pulls us with it.

We are seekers with no map, only the idea.

We stood in the blue desert together. Dirt beneath us, the night a hollow cold around us and the stars closer in sympathy.

We stop at the edge, where there are no more steps to take.

Civilasation and its humming glows have been left behind and I am waiting for reality to break.

At arms length we stand ready in an empty desert. Your hand is warm in mine and I cannot see you in the dark.

2006-05-07T00:08:00.000+01:00

XXI

It was then that the fox appeared.
"Good morning," said the fox.
"Good morning," the little prince responded politely, although when he turned around he saw nothing.
"I am right here," the voice said, "under the apple tree." "
Who are you?" asked the little prince, and added, "You are very pretty to look at."
"I am a fox," said the fox.
"Come and play with me," proposed the little prince."I am so unhappy."
"I cannot play with you," the fox said. "I am not tamed."
"Ah! Please excuse me," said the little prince. But, after some thought, he added: "What does that mean, 'tame'?"
"You do not live here," said the fox. "What is it that you are looking for?"
"I am looking for men," said the little prince. "What does that mean- 'tame'?"
"Men," said the fox. "They have guns, and they hunt. It is very disturbing. They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?"
"No," said the little prince. "I am looking for friends. What does that mean- 'tame'?"
"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. It means to establish ties."
"'To establish ties'?"
"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world..."
"I am beginning to understand," said the little prince. "There is a flower... I think that she has tamed me..."
"It is possible," said the fox. "On the Earth one sees all sorts of things."
"Oh, but this is not on the Earth!" said the little prince. The fox seemed perplexed, and very curious.
"On another planet?"
"Yes."
"Are there hunters on this planet?"
"No."
"Ah, that is interesting! Are there chickens?"
"No."
"Nothing is perfect," sighed the fox. But he came back to his idea.
"My life is very monotonous," the fox said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All chickens are just alike, and all men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life . I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the colour of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat..."
The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time.
"Please, tame me!" he said.
"I want to, very much," the little prince replied. "But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand."
"One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox. "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me..."
"What must I do, to tame you?" asked the little prince.
"You must be very patient," replied the fox. "First you will sit down at a little distance from me- like that- in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day..."

The next day the little prince came back.
"It would have been better to come back at the same hour," said the fox. "If, for example, you come at four o'clock in the afternoon, then at three o'clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o'clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you... One must observe the proper rites..."
"What is a rite?" asked the little prince.
"Those also are actions too often neglected," said the fox. "They are what make one day different from other days, one hour from other hours. There is a rite, for example, among my hunters. Every Thursday they dance with the village girls. So Thursday is a wonderful day for me! I can take a walk as far as the vineyards. But if the hunters danced at just any time, every day would be like every other day, and I should never have any vacation at all."

So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near-
"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."
"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you..."
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"Then it has done you no good at all!"
"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields." And then he added: "Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret."

The little prince went away, to look again at the roses. "You are not at all like my rose," he said. "As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world." And the roses were very much embarrassed. "You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you- the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.

And he went back to meet the fox.
"Goodbye," he said.
"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."
"It is the time I have wasted for my rose-" said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.
"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose..."
"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

I'm cutting my ties, or rather they're being frayed. The things that are important to me take time and a certain amount of solitude to be accomplished and unfortunately the people I had ties to would rather I gave them more attention and my dreams less. Not a battle they're going to win I'm afraid. And alas, they just give me more time and freedom for the important things.

I have my anti-tragus piercing back in. It took most of today and not a small amount of fear of ripping my ear lobe, but tis done. Probably would have been easier to just get it re-pierced. But now I have that money for other piercings.

2006-04-15T19:37:00.000+01:00

awesome short film

the only negative is that it has chinese/english and it is not the smoothest translation ever.

Had my first driving lesson yesterday, and got to drive home from lingley mere. I can honestly say, driving in cars is not my most favourite thing in the world.

2006-03-23T18:54:00.000Z

2006-03-12T19:04:00.000Z

With No Immediate Cause
Ntosake Shange

every 3 minutes a woman is beaten
every five minutes a
woman is raped/every ten minutes
a lil girl is molested
yet I rode on the subway today
i sat next to an old man who
may have beaten his old wife
3 minutes ago or 3 days/30 years ago
he might have sodomized his
daughter but i sat there
cuz the young men on the train
might beat some young women
later in the day or tomorrow
i might not shut my door fast
enuf/push hard enuf
every 3 minutes it happens
some woman's innocence
rushes to her cheeks/pours from her mouth
like the betsy wetsy dolls have been torn
apart/their mouths
menses red & split/every
three minutes a shoulder
is jammed through plaster and the oven door/
chairs push thru the rib cage/hot water or
boiling sperm decorate her body
i rode the subway today
& bought a paper from a
man who might
have held his old lady onto
a hot pressing iron/i don't know
maybe he catches lil girls in the
park & rips open their behinds
with steel rods/i can't decide
what he might have done i only
know every 3 minutes
every 5 minutes every 10 minutes/so
i bought the paper
looking for the announcement
the discovery/of the dismembered
woman's body/the
victims have not all been
identified/today they are
naked and dead/refuse to
testify/one girl out of 10's not
coherent/i took the coffee
& spit it up/i found an
announcement/not the woman's
bloated body in the river/floating
not the child bleeding in the
59th street corridor/not the baby
broken on the floor/
"there is some concern
that alleged battered women
might start to murder
their husbands & lovers with no
immediate cause"
i spit up i vomit i am screaming
we all have immediate cause
every 3 minutes
every 5 mintues
every 10 minutes
every day
women's bodies are found
in alleys & bedrooms/at the top of the stairs
before i ride the subway/buy a paper/drink
coffee/i must know/
have you hurt a woman today
did you beat a woman today
throw a child across a room
are the lil girl's panties
in yr pocket
did you hurt a woman today

i have to ask these obscene questions
the authorities require me to
establish
immediate cause

every three minutes
every five minutes
every ten minutes
every day.

I think about programmes on tv, and books I've read in the university libraries about the feminism of the 70's and 80's and how they were so angry and revolutionaries, and they asked awkward questions and set up communities that excluded men and there is so much power there. These women were going to chage the world.

Last night before bed I was channel hopping and caught a bit of a discussion show, the topic being that 7 out of 10 Uk women thought being called a feminist was an insult and that women and men had equality.

And i was so depressed by it.

We don't have equality. We have more than we had, but still less than we should.
All we have today is Cosmo and Vogue with the gratuitous article about how women are strong because now they can have the tips to give the perfect blowjob and oh! look! prettie shoesies and make-up!!
Women today are the victims of a campaign of miseducation and misdirection.
On one hand we're given examples of women who have it all and on the other these same women are demonised as not being 'feminine'and 'ball-breakers' and bad wives. The first example that comes to mind here is Madonna. This woman has worked her ass off for 20 years to be the best, the most visible, the first. And what does she get? Oh look- she's spending more time with her producer than her husband! What a bad wife and mother, how dare she put time into her career!
We're divided and conquered and pacified and still the lesser sex.

headsick and rage

2006-03-11T23:30:00.000Z

UK news: Judges told: slash jail terms for rapists

· Row over new violent crime guidelines
· Sex assault sentences cut by 15 per cent

Sunday March 12, 2006
The Observer

Jail sentences for rapists are to be slashed under controversial new guidelines for judges revealed just days before an official campaign against rape is launched by the government.
In a move which critics warned would deter traumatised women from reporting sex crimes, the Sentencing Guidelines Council (SGC) is to recommend that future sentences for rape and other sexual offences be cut by 15 per cent for most offenders.

The Observer can reveal that the council, an independent body advising the judiciary on how to interpret the law, will argue that bmen should serve shorter sentences because the prison regime is now 'more demanding'.

In a separate move, it is also expected to recommend shortly that men convicted of domestic violence could escape jail terms if they convince the courts they are capable of changing. Instead they would be sent on courses in the community challenging their attitudes to women.

These moves would relieve pressure on Britain's overcrowded prisons. But MPs and women's groups said they sent the wrong message about the crimes many women fear most, while victims could be dissuaded from the ordeal of testifying if they feared the result would only be a short sentence.

The proposals appear sharply at odds with government attempts to tackle violence against women, coming amid a Home Office advertising campaign warning men to seek women's consent to sex and new plans from the Attorney General to boost rape convictions.

'There has been a big struggle to get rape and domestic violence recognised as serious, terrible crimes and I do have concerns,' said Julie Morgan, the Labour MP and chair of the all-party group on sex equality. 'It is a terrible struggle for women to bring these cases to court, and I don't think we ought to give the message that we think these crimes should be dealt with in a lighter way.'

Domestic violence kills one woman every two to three days in the UK, while the British Crime Survey recently estimated 1 in 20 women has been raped.* The proposals to cut rape and sexual offence sentences - in line with proposals for other violent crimes like robbery - will be published for consultation, with guidelines finalised later this year. The average sentence for rape is now seven years and four months. Joanne Savage, secretary to the SGC, said it took into account the argument that custodial sentences had become 'more demanding' recently, with those sent to prison spending at least half their sentence behind bars. Once released they are placed under supervision, often with strict restrictions until the end of their licence period.

'This is a significant change and people released into the community under supervision from probation officers are at greater risk of being recalled,' Savage said. The move will not affect rapists already in prison ... In some cases rape must still mean life sentences.

Controversially, the council will also set out grounds where 'mitigating circumstances' will be taken into account. They are expected to include cases involving 'sexual familiarity' between rapist and victim before the attack.That could mean a woman and a man becoming intimate with the woman later refusing full sex, only to be overpowered. Such 'date rapes', where victims know their attacker, are the most common form of rape.

Critics accused the government of allowing a U-turn on violent crime. 'Given that the earlier policy [of longer sentences] contributed to the fall in crime since the mid-Nineties, the new strategy will jeopardise public safety and the key target to reduce crime by 15 per cent by 2008,' said Blair Gibbs, crime research officer at the right of centre think-tank Reform.

Rape charities said the changes risked damaging women's confidence in the legal system. 'The decision on whether to go to court will be harder if women think the rapist will not receive an adequate sentence,' said a spokeswoman for South Essex Rape and Incest Crisis Centre.

The domestic violence proposals would affect men committing sufficiently violent attacks to be jailed, but able to convince the courts there was a 'real prospect' of rehabilitation outside.

A Home Office spokesman stressed the SGC was totally independent.

From the Observer

I know its completely horrendous of me, but a part of me wishes that every member of that coucil in some way comes to experience the absolute destructive horror of rape.

And to add a little context, here is a picture of the coucil 10 men and two women. (The third lady is a secretary apparently.)
OK, it is an independant advisory body, but how in the world can you justify shortening a rape sentence because well, jails harder now....

*On the 1 in 20 women raped, it is estimated that 1 in 4 women experience some form of sexual abuse.

2006-02-20T19:16:00.000Z

I know its out of focus and badly composed, but I love this picture just because I love this building.
I pass it every night walking the dog and it has a way of just making the space behind it feel like it goes out into nothing.

A Recurring Dream

2006-02-08T17:38:00.000Z

There are two recurring worlds in my dreamscapes. One is perpetually night, a village, full of countryside and dominated in the most complete way by St. Marys Church which in reality stands in Warrington Town Centre. It feels, I think, like Gotham city must. Oppressive and dark.

The second is a wasted town in the middle of nowhere. It comes from the land behind Liverpool Road. There is a track for mining trains and then nothing. When I was little I would look at it and think it was the end of the world.
In my dreams there is nothing that is whole there, every building is neglected, half gone and condemned. It's always light but scorched. grass is brown and sparce, more sand than soil.

We're exploring the empty warehouses, across the way is an old stately home that has a stream of tourists outside. The warehouse is Egyptian in style and next to it is a multi-story car park. The warehouse has nothing of interest inside and we decide to check out the car park. The top half is a temple where Amun Ra the Sun God lives and I have promised myself that I will go up to it.

I can see out of the open sides of the building, all wasteland and buttery light but the building is condemned and all I can feel is nausea and intense fear that the building is going to fall on me at any moment even though there are people still using it to park cars.
We make our way into the internal stair wells so I don't have to look at the sky, and begin to climb up to the temple, inside the fear has subsided, but another one comes, I both hear it and instinctively know that I cannot go any further, I am not perfect enough. Not yet. I turn and run.

2005-12-30T01:11:00.002Z

Your Brain's Pattern

Your mind is a firestorm - full of intensity and drama.
Your thoughts may seem scattered to you most of the time...
But they often seem strong and passionate to those around you.
You are a natural influencer. The thoughts you share are very powerful and persuading.

What Pattern Is Your Brain?

You Are Apple Cider

Smooth and comforting. But downright nasty when cold.

What Part of Fall Are You?

cemetary stories

2005-12-27T00:27:00.000Z

yeah, festive I know.

So with it being that time of year, all my nearest and dearest took themselves away to the gravesides of those family members no longer living above ground.
Down at the Ford cemetary my dad found that the absolutely ma-hoosive monument stone belonging to his great grandad (tarby) had miraculously vanished. Let me tell you, chavs did not walk in and tip it over, the base alone is about 6 feet hight. Lots of angels, nice in an edwardian ostentation way. Six or seven people under(?) it. He wants to find out where its gone but with the councils being ad fantastically efficient as they are, and ever so knowledgeable about cemetary politics, I doubt we'll ever know. Probably just got shifted to straighten the path out for cars.

Still reading, I'm done rambling and instead offer comedy.

meanwhile....

over in Smithdown/Toxteth Cemetary my aunt is noticing a strange absence of headstones near where my grandma (maternal) is. She also is noticing council workers roaming, testing the stability of the stones. They do this by applying a certain amount of pressure and if the headstone falls over or wobbles a bit ( I guess) they mark it up as condemned and get it ready to be levelled.
Naturally, they have no wish for this fate to befall my dearest grandmama, so, displaying the resourcefullness for which my family is reknowned, they head off the the diy store and pick up a pack of post mix and some shovels.
Under the cover of night my aunt, uncle, cousin and her husband slip back into the cemetary just before closing, shift the stone, dig a wedge up, fill it with post mix and set the headstone back.
I really want to make a pun about skullduggery but I would just hate myself too much.

And because I know you're all dying to know, oh you internet anonymous, Christmas was good, I now hate my family and just want to be left alone for a week or so.

Also, I am now wearing a C cup. A tiny part of me is strangely pleased, the rest of me hates it for it.

Also also, the youngest of my mothers siblings has had a stroke. She refuses to take care of herself. Despite the fact the stroke was brought on by a smoking habit and and alcoholic drinking tendencies (I won't say she is an alkie, but anyone who can get through more than a litre of vodka in a week (and has done so for as long as I've known her) is definately not drinking responsibly) the first thing she did upon being discharged was try to get a vodka. It is left to the people around her to be responsible for her.
This kind of mentality is completely foreign to me as I have not only not thought about drinking this season, I can't remember the last time I had alcohol.
Its expensive, it tastes bad and just makes me sleepy. (And suggestible, but we'll ignore that.. )

2005-12-24T23:15:00.000Z

Dear Editor:

I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, "If you see it in The Sun, it's so." Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?

Virginia O'Hanlon
_________________________________

Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived could tear apart. Only faith, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives and lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

-Francis P. Church
First appeared in the The New York Sun in 1897.

2005-12-19T21:50:00.000Z

2005-12-04T23:14:00.000Z

I would rather be a coward than brave because people hurt you when you are brave.
-E. M. Forster, as a small child

2005-12-04T03:28:00.000Z

the darkness in the valley (sankey that is)

2005-12-01T23:02:00.000Z

Perceived Power.

2005-11-15T21:35:00.000Z

Imagine the scene, you're a manager or assistant manager at a fast food restaurant. Its a quiet night. The phone rings and a man identifying himself as a police officer asks for your help. OK. One of your employees is under suspicion of stealing. Call them into the back office. Good. Now you're going to subject them to hours of sexual assult, confinement and terror.
But its ok, you're not in charge anymore.

I mean, I can see how some of it could have happened. But at what point do you not realise that a police officer would not instruct you to perform sex acts on a young girl? Some people have an ability to follow orders that just scares me.

2005-10-08T22:12:00.000+01:00

Your Hair Should Be Orange

Expressive, deep, and one of a kind.
You pull off "weird" well - hardly anyone notices.

What's Your Funky Inner Hair Color?

the joke is, i dye my hair with orange all the time. over the ginger it just looks nice.

I want to go purple again. What can I say - it goes with my eyes.

PARENTAL

ADVISORY

AFLAMINGHALO CONTAINS
EXPLICIT LYRICS

From Go-Quiz.com

2005-09-30T23:59:00.000+01:00

The perfect human.
22 Cruelty, 29 Anal, 30 Pushover

Congratulations. You're easy-going, friendly and know when to stand up for yourself. You're perfect. In fact, you're a little bit too perfect. Chances are, hoards of jealous people are plotting your demise at you read this. Tough luck, pal.

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 31% on Cruelty

You scored higher than 28% on Anal

You scored higher than 53% on Pushover

Link: The Why Do People Hate You? Test written by sofia__m on OkCupid Free Online Dating

from livejournal

2005-09-29T00:57:00.000+01:00

Because i am a child.

One Woman's Tale of Woe

All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of
easy, painless removal - The epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and
now...the wax.

My night began as any other normal weeknight.. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: "Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet." So I headed to the site of
my demise: the bathroom. It was one of those "cold wax" kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be?

I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK!?!)

So I pull one of the thin strips out. It's two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. ("Cold wax," yeah...right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works! OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.

With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneakback into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the was strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (Yes, it was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself....RRRRIIIPPP!!!!

I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!....OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!! Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP!!! Another deep breath and RRIIPP!! Everything is swirly and spotted. I think I may pass out...must stay conscious...Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe...OK, back to normal.

I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip! There's no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???

Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I am touching wax. CRAP! I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair.

Then I make the next BIG mistake...remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down. DAMN!!!!!!!! I hear the slamming of a cell door. Vagina? Sealed shut! Butt?? Sealed shut!

I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself "Please don't let me get the urge to poop. My head
may pop off!" What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!! I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right??? *WRONG!!!!!!!*

I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit. Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub...in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax. So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain!! God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!!

I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter -

"So, my butt and who-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!" There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, "Are we talking cheeks or hole or who-ha?" She's laughing out loud by now...I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else's night. While we go through various solutions. I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better then to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!! By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this
event.

My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace....the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do
I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY GOD!!!!!!!

The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend. It's sooo painful, l but I really don't care. "IT WORKS!!
It works!!" I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to
my grief and despair....THE HAIR IS STILL THERE.......ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now.

Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.

Next week I'm going to try hair color......

*stands by with the oxygen tanks at the ready*

SIDENOTE I once did something similar to an ex. He ended up glued to his leg and his jeans. It still makes me laugh.

Hospital Humour

2005-09-27T19:00:00.000+01:00

Actual entries in hospital charts.

1. Patient refused autopsy.

2. The patient has not previous history of suicides.

3. Patient has left white blood cells at another hospital.

4. Patient has no rigors or shaking chills, but her husband states she was very hot in bed last night.

5. Patient has chest pains if she lies on her left side for over a year.

6. On the second day the knee was better, and on the third day it disappeared.

7. The patient is tearful ad crying constantly. She also appears to be depressed.

8. The patient has been depressed since she began seeing me in 1993.

9. Discharge status: Alive but without permission.

10. Healthy appearing decrepit 69 year old male, mentally alert but forgetful.

11. Patient had waffles for breakfast and anorexia for lunch.

12. She in numb from the toes down.

13. While in ER, she was examined, x-rated and sent home.

14. The skin was moist and dry.

15. Occasional, constant infrequent headaches.

16. Patient was alert and unresponsive.

17. Rectal examination revealed a normal size thyroid.

18. She stated she had been constipated for most of her life, until she got a divorce.

19. I saw your patient today she is still under out car for physical therapy.

20. Both breasts are equal and reactive to light and accommodation.

21. Examination of genitalia reveals that he is circus sized.

22. The lab test indicated abnormal lover function.

23. Skin: Somewhat pale but present.

24. The pelvic floor exam will be done later on the floor.

25. Patient has two teenaged children but no other abnormalities.

you think i'm dead but i sail away...

2005-09-19T10:06:00.000+01:00

When asked how he felt about Roe versus Wade, George W. Bush replied frankly, "I don't care how people got out of New Orleans. As long as they got out."

sorry...
this however, is a direct quote...

Bush said: "Roe vs. Wade was a reach, overstepped the constitutional bounds as far as I'm concerned."

but yes, im here to let the void know i liveth.

and to share interesting things i saw on holday.

a jewish door. x2 actually, if anyone who reads this can tell me what the top says i'd be ever so greatful)

condom vending machines. yup, just on the walls, in the streets. everywhere. needless to say i approve.

THE BEST BIKE IN THE WORLD!!!1!

a scary fucking church door.

and a scary fucking angel from the same church.

this is a trulli, which is what we stayed in.

and some clouds.

I also come back with the knowledge that drunken uncles do not tell the best family stories. I know this because i now know that my uncle bill cannot piss in front of an audience and that my uncle ted is hung. thanks uncle bill, i'll send you the therapy bills.
The worst part is my sister was asleep and my cousin had left a day earlier, so i'm really the only mind of this generation to be destroyed by that.
OK, not so much destroyed as given an unhappy association to someone she liked but never ever needed to know that much about.

The South of Italy is lovely, I may live there one day.
Italian men are hot
Italian women are hot
Italian food made me gain 20 pounds. Well, it might if i'd stayed longer..
Being back in England with no sunshine and warmth and little lizards and those water carrier things, no cold coke with lemon slices and good ice cream makes me quite sad. Thus I am lead to conclude that I had a good holiday.

Actually, with the group I was with I wouldn't stay longer - they all, to a one, treated me like I was 12 and didn't know how to work the world yet. Seriously, I had people check with me on what I was ordering, checking on me if i tried to do something alone, if i tried to cross the street they tried to hold my hand.

My dad just gave my sister some money to get me a key cut. I told him I neeeded a new key, took his, am going into town and have money.
I "might forget". Losing my own keys means I am a moron.

As is the way of a nice holiday we must come home to disappointment - me to find I'm 30 quid over on my overdraft I thought I was under, my sister to find that the stupid bitch who has hade her GNVQ work for oh, only maybe 17 months "can't find it" because on ringing and asking about her results was told the woman "couldn't find it". Surely 17 months is plently of time to have a look. Ugh. What she seems uneducated on is the fact that my sister is holy fucking hell and won't rest now until work is "found" her results given and that women fired. Seriously, she has a streak of mean in her I just lack and like to hide behind.

Sidebar- I have the best periods ever. Irregular they may be, but cunning. It stopped after two days a week before i went away and resumed the very day i got home. It does this often, generally around an event. Probably not a good indicator of unterine health though. Whatever.

Yes, I really have uncles called bill and ted.

2005-08-30T23:21:00.000+01:00

PIXIES = LOVE.

Oh yeah.

And I missed the Futureheads but as I was wondering down to the front Ross (the guitarist, looking very serious and very sexy) passedbythisclosetome. Lovely.

Also, this was the best smelling crowd I've ever been in, everyone seemed to have washed at least semi-thoroughly.

And I had a brief yet informative chat on height problems in crowds with a Lemmy-a-like.

As I type this I wear the gig tee I spent too much on but will not take off for a week, much in the same vein as the gig grin I wear.

2005-08-20T13:34:00.000+01:00

Down, way down where she lies,
No bright evening stars, no skies,
No wasted away afternoons,
On mornings that leave so soon,
No midnight and lately there's no moon.

Down, way down where she lies,
One thousand times she tries,
So easily once but not here,
No table, no glass, no cheers,
No far away, soon there'll be no near.

The day will come
When the sun won't rise,
No evening stars
Down where she lies.

Down, way down where she lies,
No beautifully worn disguise,
No feelings of permanance,
No citrus and flowers scents,
No matinee and no audience.

The day will come
When the sun won't rise,
No evening stars
Down where she lies.

Down, way down where she lies
No heavenly angel cries,
No tears for her favorite song,
No reason to sing along,
No melody; the inspriation's gone.

The day will come
When the sun won't rise,
No evening stars
Down where she lies.

The day will come
When the sun won't rise,
No evening stars
Down where she lies.

Where She Lies
- Jump, Little Children

signs of the apocalypse #35

2005-08-17T00:36:00.000+01:00

My estrogen has kicked in. Or something.

How do you know this Helen? you ask.

Because. The shoe thing has kicked in.
I'm sure you've observed it sometime in your life. Or maybe just thought of it as one of those female myths perpetuated by the media, lord knows I did. Good footwear was my New Rocks - knee high or flame covered, my man kicking boots. You need not fear the mysteriously sticky floor or mystery squelch of drunken stumblings in those babies.

And then there were these.

~insert lustful back of throat growl noise here~

I have the definate urge to do something to them. I'm not quite sure what exactly, but the urge has the distinct tinge of the depraved to it.

Stupid shoes.

The main problem with this sudden infatuation is that I am quitting my job, because I hate it and it is making me miserable.
No, I mean more than normal jobs do. And when upon describing your working conditions more than one person tells you to file a discrimination complaint, then maybe its not the best place for me to be.

Another downside of this is that my plans to do Venice on our family invasion of Italy (and I mean family - me my mum, my dad, my sister, two aunts, three uncles and one cousin, look out for updates, I'm sure I'll freak at least once.. > because we're slumming it in the other end of the country and I'm trying to be responsible with my finances.
If you can tell me any places to check out in the region of Puglia (pronounced somewhat more attractively than its spelt) let me know. I've gotta roam...

Also, i've read most of the books I've bought to take with me, so if anyone has any reccommendations, answers on the back of a postcard please.

2005-08-02T19:48:00.000+01:00

The same company that owns Dove, owns Slimfast.

Consumerism in action.

2005-07-26T01:12:00.000+01:00

Results
Your answers suggest you are a Counsellor

The four aspects that make up this personality type are:
Planners, Ideas, Heart and Introvert

Summary of Counsellors

* Search for meaning in their life and develop powerful insights
* Are dedicated to helping others reach their potential
* Think of themselves as gentle, peaceable and cautious
* Others may find it difficult to get to know them

More about Counsellors

Counsellors have a natural understanding of human relationships and the complexities of life, which they use to help others. They search for meaning in everything and develop complex insights.

Counsellors are least likely to describe themselves as atheists, according to a UK survey.

Counsellors feel most relaxed and creative when their surroundings are organised. They are deeply private people who only share their insights with trusted friends; however, they will defend their values if challenged.

In situations where they can't use their talents or are unappreciated, Counsellors may withdraw from the people around them or become resentful. Under extreme stress, Counsellors may feel overwhelmed and be driven to organise small parts of their lives such as their kitchen cabinets or their record collection.

Counsellors typically prefer a few close relationships to a wide circle of friends.
Counsellor Careers

Counsellors are often drawn to jobs where they can help people develop emotionally, intellectually or spiritually and where they can use their imagination.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/science/humanbody/mind/surveys/whatamilike/index.shtml

2005-07-26T01:06:00.000+01:00

As the mist leaves no scar / On the dark green hill / So my body leaves no scar on you, / Nor ever will. When hawk and wind encounter, / What remains to keep? /So you and I encounter, /Then turn and fall asleep. As many nights endure / Without a moon or star, / So will we endure / When one is gone and far.

Leonard Cohen

Wears Jump Suit. Sensible Shoes. Uses Husband's Last Name.

2005-07-21T19:25:00.000+01:00

(originally titled "Marked Women, Unmarked Men")
by Deborah Tannen

The New York Times Magazine, June 20, 1993.

Some years ago I was at a small working conference of four women and eight men. Instead of concentrating on the discussion I found myself looking at the three other women at the table, thinking how each had a different style and how each style was coherent.

One woman had dark brown hair in a classic style, a cross between Cleopatra and Plain Jane. The severity of her straight hair was softened by wavy bangs and ends that turned under. Because she was beautiful, the effect was more Cleopatra than plain.

The second woman was older, full of dignity and composure. Her hair was cut in a fashionable style that left her with only one eye, thanks to a side part that let a curtain of hair fall across half her face. As she looked down to read her prepared paper, the hair robbed her of bifocal vision and created a barrier between her and the listeners.

The third woman's hair was wild, a frosted blond avalanche falling over and beyond her shoulders. When she spoke she frequently tossed her head, calling attention to her hair and away from her lecture.

Then there was makeup. The first woman wore facial cover that made her skin smooth and pale, a black line under each eye and mascara that darkened already dark lashes. The second wore only a light gloss on her lips and a hint of shadow on her eyes. The third had blue bands under her eyes, dark blue shadow, mascara, bright red lipstick and rouge; her fingernails flashed red.

I considered the clothes each woman had worn during the three days of the conference: In the first case, man-tailored suits in primary colors with solid-color blouses. In the second, casual but stylish black T-shirts, a floppy collarless jacket and baggy slacks or a skirt in neutral colors. The third wore a sexy jump suit; tight sleeveless jersey and tight yellow slacks; a dress with gaping armholes and an indulged tendency to fall off one shoulder.

Shoes? No. 1 wore string sandals with medium heels; No. 2, sensible, comfortable walking shoes; No. 3, pumps with spike heels. You can fill in the jewelry, scarves, shawls, sweaters -- or lack of them.

As I amused myself finding coherence in these styles, I suddenly wondered why I was scrutinizing only the women. I scanned the eight men at the table. And then I knew why I wasn't studying them. The men's styles were unmarked.

THE TERM "MARKED" IS a staple of linguistic theory. It refers to the way language alters the base meaning of a word by adding a linguistic particle that has no meaning on its own. The unmarked form of a word carries the meaning that goes without saying -- what you think of when you're not thinking anything special.

The unmarked tense of verbs in English is the present -- for example, visit. To indicate past, you mark the verb by adding ed to yield visited. For future, you add a word: will visit. Nouns are presumed to be singular until marked for plural, typically by adding s or es, so visit becomes visits and dish becomes dishes.

The unmarked forms of most English words also convey "male." Being male is the unmarked case. Endings like ess and ette mark words as "female." Unfortunately, they also tend to mark them for frivolousness. Would you feel safe entrusting your life to a doctorette? Alfre Woodard, who was an Oscar nominee for best supporting actress, says she identifies herself as an actor because "actresses worry about eyelashes and cellulite, and women who are actors worry about the characters we are playing." Gender markers pick up extra meanings that reflect common associations with the female gender: not quite serious, often sexual.

Each of the women at the conference had to make decisions about hair, clothing, makeup and accessories, and each decision carried meaning. Every style available to us was marked. The men in our group had made decisions, too, but the range from which they chose was incomparably narrower. Men can choose styles that are marked, but they don't have to, and in this group none did. Unlike the women, they had the option of being unmarked.

Take the men's hair styles. There was no marine crew cut or oily longish hair falling into eyes, no asymmetrical, two-tiered construction to swirl over a bald top. One man was unabashedly bald; the others had hair of standard length, parted on one side, in natural shades of brown or gray or graying. Their hair obstructed no views, left little to toss or push back or run fingers through and, consequently, needed and attracted no attention. A few men had beards. In a business setting, beards might be marked. In this academic gathering, they weren't.

There could have been a cowboy shirt with string tie or a three-piece suit or a necklaced hippie in jeans. But there wasn't. All eight men wore brown or blue slacks and nondescript shirts of light colors. No man wore sandals or boots; their shoes were dark, closed, comfortable and flat. In short, unmarked.

Although no man wore makeup, you couldn't say the men didn't wear makeup in the sense that you could say a woman didn't wear makeup. For men, no makeup is unmarked.

I asked myself what style we women could have adopted that would have been unmarked, like the men's. The answer was none. There is no unmarked woman.

There is no woman's hair style that can be called standard, that says nothing about her. The range of women's hair styles is staggering, but a woman whose hair has no particular style is perceived as not caring about how she looks, which can disqualify her for many positions, and will subtly diminish her as a person in the eyes of some.

Women must choose between attractive shoes and comfortable shoes. When our group made an unexpected trek, the woman who wore flat, laced shoes arrived first. Last to arrive was the woman in spike heels, shoes in hand and a handful of men around her.

If a woman's clothing is tight or revealing (in other words, sexy), it sends a message -- an intended one of wanting to be attractive, but also a possibly unintended one of availability. If her clothes are not sexy, that too sends a message, lent meaning by the knowledge that they could have been. There are thousands of cosmetic products from which women can choose and myriad ways of applying them. Yet no makeup at all is anything but unmarked. Some men see it as a hostile refusal to please them.

Women can't even fill out a form without telling stories about themselves. Most forms give four titles to choose from. "Mr." carries no meaning other than that the respondent is male. But a woman who checks "Mrs." or "Miss" communicates not only whether she has been married but also whether she has conservative tastes in forms of address -- and probably other conservative values as well. Checking "Ms." declines to let on about marriage (checking "Mr." declines nothing since nothing was asked), but it also marks her as either liberated or rebellious, depending on the observer's attitudes and assumptions.

I sometimes try to duck these variously marked choices by giving my title as "Dr." -- and in so doing risk marking myself as either uppity (hence sarcastic responses like "Excuse me!") or an overachiever (hence reactions of congratulatory surprise like "Good for you!").

All married women's surnames are marked. If a woman takes her husband's name, she announces to the world that she is married and has traditional values. To some it will indicate that she is less herself, more identified by her husband's identity. If she does not take her husband's name, this too is marked, seen as worthy of comment: she has done something; she has "kept her own name." A man is never said to have "kept his own name" because it never occurs to anyone that he might have given it up. For him using his own name is unmarked.

A married woman who wants to have her cake and eat it too may use her surname plus his, with or without a hyphen. But this too announces her marital status and often results in a tongue-tying string. In a list (Harvey O'Donovan, Jonathan Feldman, Stephanie Woodbury McGillicutty), the woman's multiple name stands out. It is marked.

I HAVE NEVER BEEN inclined toward biological explanations of gender differences in language, but I was intrigued to see Ralph Fasold bring biological phenomena to bear on the question of linguistic marking in his book "The Sociolinguistics of Language." Fasold stresses that language and culture are particularly unfair in treating women as the marked case because biologically it is the male that is marked. While two X chromosomes make a female, two Y chromosomes make nothing. Like the linguistic markers s, es or ess, the Y chromosome doesn't "mean" anything unless it is attached to a root form -- an X chromosome.

Developing this idea elsewhere, Fasold points out that girls are born with fully female bodies, while boys are born with modified female bodies. He invites men who doubt this to lift up their shirts and contemplate why they have nipples.

In his book, Fasold notes "a wide range of facts which demonstrates that female is the unmarked sex." For example, he observes that there are a few species that produce only females, like the whiptail lizard. Thanks to parthenogenesis, they have no trouble having as many daughters as they like. There are no species, however, that produce only males. This is no surprise, since any such species would become extinct in its first generation.

Fasold is also intrigued by species that produce individuals not involved in reproduction, like honeybees and leaf-cutter ants. Reproduction is handled by the queen and a relatively few males; the workers are sterile females. "Since they do not reproduce," Fasold says, "there is no reason for them to be one sex or the other, so they default, so to speak, to female."

Fasold ends his discussion of these matters by pointing out that if language reflected biology, grammar books would direct us to use "she" to include males and females and "he" only for specifically male referents. But they don't. They tell us that "he" means "he or she," and that "she" is used only if the referent is specifically female. This use of "he" as the sex-indefinite pronoun is an innovation introduced into English by grammarians in the 18th and 19th centuries, according to Peter Muhlhausler and Rom Harre in "Pronouns and People." From at least about 1500, the correct sex-indefinite pronoun was "they," as it still is in casual spoken English. In other words, the female was declared by grammarians to be the marked case.

Writing this article may mark me not as a writer, not as a linguist, not as an analyst of human behavior, but as a feminist -- which will have positive or negative, but in any case powerful, connotations for readers. Yet I doubt that anyone reading Ralph Fasold's book would put that label on him.

I discovered the markedness inherent in the very topic of gender after writing a book on differences in conversational style based on geographical region, ethnicity, class, age and gender. When I was interviewed, the vast majority of journalists wanted to talk about the differences between women and men. While I thought I was simply describing what I observed -- something I had learned to do as a researcher --merely mentioning women and men marked me as a feminist for some.

When I wrote a book devoted to gender differences in ways of speaking, I sent the manuscript to five male colleagues, asking them to alert me to any interpretation, phrasing or wording that might seem unfairly negative toward men. Even so, when the book came out, I encountered responses like that of the television talk show host who, after interviewing me, turned to the audience and asked if they thought I was male-bashing.

Leaping upon a poor fellow who affably nodded in agreement, she made him stand and asked, "Did what she said accurately describe you?" "Oh, yes," he answered. "That's me exactly." 'And what she said about women -- does that sound like your wife?" "Oh yes," he responded. "That's her exactly." "Then why do you think she's male-bashing?" He answered, with disarming honesty, "Because she's a woman and she's saying things about men."

To say anything about women and men without marking oneself as either feminist or anti-feminist, male-basher or apologist for men seems as impossible for a woman as trying to get dressed in the morning without inviting interpretations of her character. Sitting at the conference table musing on these matters, I felt sad to think that we women didn't have the freedom to be unmarked that the men sitting next to us had. Some days you just want to get dressed and go about your business. But if you're a woman, you can't, because there is no unmarked woman.

Emphasises are mine.

2005-07-20T20:51:00.000+01:00

BORN BAD
By Mike Harding

I wuz too poor to be born
So my mother had me knitted by the WVS
And looking at me now, you know,
You can tell they was a ball of wool short, more or less.
Mah poppa wuz in prison
For printing bits of paper with the Queen's head on
And mah folks, they said "Goddamn",
As I smoked pot sat in my pram, I wuz my poppa's son

CHORUS:
We wuz so poor, that my dawg had no legs
And I had to take him out when it was dark.
From the wrong side of the track, I'd carry him there and back
Taking him for a drag in the local park

(We wuz born bad!)

I stole the other babies' rattles,
Their dummies and their bottles and their chewin' bones,
Got hooked on teething jelly,
Got busted at the clinic when they found me stoned.
At five they made me go to school,
And all the kids they laughed at me and called me names
So I got some plaster of paris,
And put it in their milk and slowed down all their games

CHORUS

Teacher told me I was no good,
The day I chopped the school down with my Junior Woodsman's axe
She didn't like me drinkin' ink
And gettin' high on plasticine and melted crayon wax
At seven I left home
'Cause my girlfriend was in trouble and my dawg had bit the priest
With mah guitar and mah bedroll
I left Oldham bound for Nashville, but me Ma had phoned the police

CHORUS

So they put me here in prison,
And I'm sitting here just staring at these bars and locks
And mah poor ol' doggie's dead
'Cause he ate policeman's leg and choked on one of his socks
And I'm sitting here and wondering
Just how the hell I got me in this mess
And I guess I've got to blame it
On them goddamn knitting needles of the WVS

2005-06-13T17:50:00.000+01:00

According to Mr Hargreaves "Madame Oui ne sais pas dit non."
Madame Oui cannot say no.
Guess that explains the grin.

I love childrens books.
When they make me snort orange juice out of my nose.

the cosmic egg unbreaks itself.

2005-06-10T16:54:00.000+01:00

If our experience of time as moving forward is governed by the outwards expansion of the universe away from its point of origin, if it loses it momentum and snaps back in on itself will we then experience time as running backwards?

Yes, I have too much spare thinking time.

2005-06-06T17:35:00.000+01:00

Me- "No, thats my uncle frank. He's the one with the adopted kids."
J- "Wait, didn't he marry his chinese kid?"
Me -".....?"
Me -"No, thats Woody Allen."

I love explaining my mums fucked up side of the family.

2005-05-31T20:10:00.000+01:00

Today I saw work crush. I also washed my phone.

Verdict. Highly unbalanced.

5 seconds of yum vs £90 of cocksuckcuntandbollocks.

(not literally. And if it was, I wouldn't advertise it here.)

I can't decide whether I'm being told something about my choice in mobile phones or about the importance of checking pockets.

2005-05-29T03:35:00.000+01:00

I'm seeing a woman.
In mirrors and windows and puddles and all other accidental reflections.

Half glances catching a grown up looking back at me.

I heard her in my head last night.

She's been influencing my decisions.

And I'm incredibly uncomfortable with the arrangement.

I don't trust my reactions any more. Things I previously loved leave me cold. People I had time for I have nothing for. Ideas I had dismissed, passed over or just straight despised now draw my down like a waiting lover.

I'm agitated and harsh in my confusion. The knowledge of another change leaves me scared and tired and unable to choose.
I never felt like this as a teenager.
I was too busy trying not to feel as a teenager.

**********************

My summer rhythms are slowly asserting themselves and I take a masochistic comfort in them as the one things I can count on.
My inclinations are to sleep in the day and only come out at night.
Until the sky takes on its rich blue of morning I cannot sleep.
The stars all tell me stories.
And the danw finds me with that incredible peace.
Out of my window, framed by cloudy greys is a patch of primrose yellow sky.

and quickly removing my good mood

2005-05-10T23:24:00.000+01:00

Features
Overview
Samsung presents today's fashionable and sophisticated women with the best gift ever - SGH-A400 (Egèo). The elegant look of the SGH-A400 will capture your eyes and make you feel the best. The luxurious appearance of SGH-A400 engraved with a gold rose is a beautiful symbol of your aristocratic dignity. Its small and compact design adds a warm glow in your hands like a precious gem. Furthermore, the wide diversity of functions such as personalized health features, wireless infrared, WAP, calendar, to-do-list, alarm, and calculator, will help organize your business and everyday life.

At Samsung, we acknowledge the unique individuality of every modern woman in this society and have thus created the Egèo that will meet her every needs.

Just for the Ladies- Pink Schedule, Calories Calculator, Bio Rhythm, Fatness Indicator

What is Calories Calculator?
Calculate the amount of calories burnt for doing daily work like cooking, shopping as well as sports activities like jogging, aerobics and dancing, and manage your fitness every day.

What is Fatness Calculator?
Based on standard Body Mass Index (BMI) tables, the Fatness calculator provides a quick and easy check on whether you are within the healthy weight range for your frame. Simply key in your weight and height and the calculator will display the result and its evaluation (thin, slight thin, normal, slight fat or fat).

What is Bio Rhythm?
It enables you to check your physical, emotional and intellectual cycles on a daily basis.

What is Pink Schedule?
Using this feature, you can enter information on your menstrual cycle and determine the
1.Date of next ovulation
2.Probability of becoming pregnant on the current date
3.Period during which it is possible to become pregnant
4.Date of your next period

Because you women can't possible be happy unless you know your 'fatness' to the exact decimal point and when to rush home to bone the bf to get the sprog that is obviously the reason for your existence.

Helen Smash.

(yeah, i thought it was a joke at first too. but just google search it. I hate the world. And instead of getting better for women, it just seems to be getting worse for the men too.)

2005-05-06T00:27:00.000+01:00

Your Birthdate: October 12

Being born on the 12th day of the month (3 energy) is likely to add a good bit of vitality to your life.

The energy of 3 allows you bounce back rapidly from setbacks, physical or mental.

There is a restlessness in your nature, but you seem to be able to portray an easygoing, sometimes "couldn't care less" attitude.

You have a natural ability to express yourself in public, and you always make a very good impression.

Good with words, you excel in writing, speaking, and possibly singing.

You are energetic and always a good conversationalist.

You have a keen imagination, but you tend to scatter your energies and become involved with too may superficial matters.

Your mind is practical and rational despite this tendency to jump about.

You are affectionate and loving - but very sensitive.

You are subject to rapid ups and downs.

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Being born on the 12 October also means I share a birthday with the Antichrist.
OK, Aleister Crowley.
And Pavarotti.

2005-05-05T18:38:00.000+01:00

The Onion's latest "What Do You Think?"

Q: Women are barred from U.S. military jobs that would place them on the front line, but some say all troops in Iraq are exposed to ground combat. What do you think?

My favourite answer: “To their commanders, front-line soldiers are nothing more than objects, warm bodies, pieces of meat. Women should certainly be used to that.”

Something that niggles me.
In work, or home or any other place when the topic turns to what I'm going to do next I always end up shooting down one of the given options with "but I don't want or like kids."
And I'm always told "You'll change your mind."
I hate this. Because, as a woman all I'm good for is housing ovaries obviously.
I've decided that the next time somebody says this to me I'm not going to shut up, or look at them like they're daft or let them get away with it. Just look them in the eye and say well, I'm most likely infertile so I guess my mind doesn't really have much of an option.

That'll shut them up.

Now, I have friends who willfully believe they can't have kids just because they don't want to properly utilise even one of the many wonderful contraceptive choices now available to us, but lets look at my genetic backgrounds.
All the women in my genetics have trouble concieving.
All the ginger people in my family, even the ones I've had to have my mum remember (us being on a Buffy deal- one in every generation an all) have never had their own offspring.
OK, I do leave open the possiblity that the universe will delight in tripping me up over this, but seriously the probability is probably less than half so i don't feel bad in believing this.
In fact, I'm happier because of it.
I'd hate to be one of those freaky women who want kids only to find out they can't. That would be horrible.

OK, shutting up now and going to vote.
Because if you vote for who you really want to get in, you have full lisence to bitch about whoever does get in.
And if thats not reason enough to vote, I don't know what is..

2005-05-04T20:03:00.000+01:00

Your Kinsey Number is 2.0

Predominantly Heterosexual, but More than Incidentally Homosexual

What's Your Kinsey Number?

More Great Quizzes from Quiz Diva

The Kinsey scale is a way of considering sexual orientation as more than just "straight" or "gay".
0 = entirely heterosexual
1 = mostly heterosexual, some incidental homosexual experience
2 = mostly heterosexual, some significant homosexual experience
3 = equally heterosexual and homosexual
4 = mostly homosexual, some significant heterosexual experience
5 = mostly homosexual, some incidental heterosexual experience
6 = entirely homosexual.

I've just been frenched by the dog.
I was petting her, and she licked at my mouth the one unfortunate moment I had my mouth open.
Am now going to brush my teeth.
For a couple of hours.
I'm still one up though, she's being fixed in the morning. Ha.

last nights dream

2005-04-27T17:47:00.000+01:00

I dreamt that an asteroid was going to hit the Earth and it was fucked, everything was going to die.
I however, had been picked to go on a spaceship to survive the disaster.
The rest of my family had not been chosen, most of the dream was about me making the choice to survive myself, or face death with my family.
By the end I had gotten on the ship but was debating whether to get off or not with Superman (who was very much for me staying on) when I woke up.

This is the second time Superman's been in a dream of mine both in this very month no less. I've never dreamt about him before. I'm curious as to why him and why now.

Analysis- ok, i love this bit.
This dream is obviously an allegory on my current frustrations with my family, and my fear of making the decisions to get away from them as the gap that appeared when I went to uni hasn't really closed and I worry about losing them completely if I leave again.
Superman is the part of me that is capable, strong and has lazer vision. my subconscious may also be picking him to represent my feelings of being alien next to my family as I neither immediately look like them or share any of their beliefs or concerns.
The spaceship is representative of my enjoyment of spaceships. Not my desire to have a sex change or anything.

Today has mainly been 'meh'.
In the greater scheme of things it was just a day. Bit good, bit evil, but there you go.
I wish there was a stop button to all this, something I could press to pause all the action, step outside it and walk off into my own sunset, not one that the people around me keep tryint to push me towards.
I keep getting told, that the perfect life doesn't exist, only compromise and acceptance. Does it make me an idiot to belive that I can have my cake? Maybe it does, but I'd rather be completely miserable over completely passive. To quote Colette, if i can't have all the truffles, I'll have no truffles.

2005-04-25T19:05:00.000+01:00

Variations on the Word "Sleep"

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head

and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear

I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in

I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.

Margaret Atwood

2005-04-23T23:35:00.000+01:00

O Gentle, O Kind, O Blessed Sophia,
Thy children on earth call unto Thee.
We pray Thee, Beloved Mother, to cast forth
thy net of woven starlight.
Fling it wide across the ocean of the universe
to gather us home to the realms of Light.
Amen.
~Closing prayer of the gnostic rosary.

2005-04-21T18:31:00.000+01:00

"...because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to
live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same
time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn,
burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the
stars..."
-Kerouac "On the Road"

2005-04-21T00:01:00.000+01:00

Look at Love

Look at Love...
how it tangles
with the one fallen in love

look at spirit
how it fuses with earth
giving it new life

why are you so busy
with this or that or good or bad
pay attention to how things blend

why talk about all
the known and the unknown
see how unknown merges into the known

why think separately
of this life and the next
when one is born from the last

look at your heart and tongue
one feels but deaf and dumb
the other speaks in words and signs

look at water and fire
earth and wind
enemies and friends all at once

the wolf and the lamb
the lion and the deer
far away yet together

look at the unity of this
spring and winter
manifested in the equinox

you too must mingle my friends
since the earth and the sky
are mingled just for you and me

be like sugarcane
sweet yet silent
don't get mixed up with bitter words

my beloved grows
right out of my own heart
how much more union can there be

Rumi

2005-04-17T23:57:00.000+01:00

So this is odd
The painful realization that all has gone wrong
And nobody cares at all
And nobody cares at all

So you buried all your lovers clothes
And burned the letters Lover wrote
But it doesn't make it any better
Does it make it any better?
And the plaster dented from your fist
In the hall where you had your first kiss
Reminds you that the memories will fade

So this is strange
Our side stepping has come to be a brilliant dance
Where nobody leads at all
Where nobody leads at all

And the picture frames are facing down
And the ringing from this empty sound
Is defeaning and keeping you from this sleep
And breathing is a foreign task
And thinking's just to much to ask
And you're measuring your minutes by a clock that's blinking eights

This is incredible
Starving, insatiable
Yes, this is love for the first time
Well, you'd like to think that you were invincible
Yeah, well weren't we all once before we felt lost for the first time?
Well, this is the last time
This is the last time
This is the last time

Squeeee!

2005-04-14T23:59:00.000+01:00

With the vibrator I thought I had found the heights of Hello Kitty, but no!
Hello Kitty Tarot Cards!!!1!11
Without these I see no future. For anyone.

Even death is adorable with her bunny ears...

116

2005-04-14T18:00:00.000+01:00

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

the velveteen rabbit.

2005-04-06T20:10:00.000+01:00

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?"
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But those things don't matter at all, because once you are real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

You should read it.

2005-03-31T22:34:00.000+01:00

I used to dream.

Hands brought up to my chest, fingers held rigid and p u s h through the shredded breatbone. Shards of white splinter splitting skin and destoying the nail beds.

For a moment I relax, give myself time to catch my breath.

Experimentally I move my fingers. It's softer in there than I'd imagined.
A tight wet space.
Respiratory organs beat and flutter against my fingers.

A membrane like the skin on old milk.
Experimentally I close my fingers to see if it will fit in my grasping hand.
It bubbles and breaks away with minimum effort.
Slowly, carefully I extract my hand and look down at the reflection I hold of myself.

Oily and black, I'd always suspected as much.

Violently sharp I flick my wrist to throw it down.
It falls, breaks, and leaves an interesting splatter effect on the ground.
I try not to get it on my shoes.

2005-03-26T23:57:00.000Z

one day i'll have to fly
to the next great unknown
one day i'll be out of here
back on my own

and when i come around for my goodbyes
you'll be the scarecrow

you'll be the scarecrow
the one i adore
the one i'll carry with me
forevermore

you were the special one
something we shared
the one that i'll miss the most
the one who cared

so when i come around for my goodbyes
you'll be the scarecrow

you'll be the scarecrow
the one i adore
the one i'll carry with me
forevermore

there may not be a day
for a due reunion
there may not be a day
for us

one day you'll look and see
a purple sunset
and then you'll know that i'm okay
i'm doing my best
and when i come around for my goodbyes
you'll be the scarecrow

~E

2005-03-24T22:02:00.000Z

The moment the horses hoof hit that flint I saw an omen being cast.
In the flare of sparks I saw our path being laid.

For good, for bad we burnt each other.
Lacking substance to feed off we burnt out.

shamelessly plundered from The Saturnyne

2005-03-22T17:14:00.000Z

Because I do like pretty things.

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

ee cummings

2005-03-22T14:43:00.000Z

Puff,
The Magic Dragon

Puff, the magic dragon, lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honalee.
Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff
And brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff, oh

Puff, the magic dragon, lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honalee.
Puff, the magic dragon, lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honalee.

Together they would travel on boat with billowed sail
Jackie kept a lookout perched on Puff's gigantic tail
Noble kings and princes would bow whene'er they came
Pirate ships would lower their flags when Puff roared out his name, oh

CHORUS

A dragon lives forever, but not so little boys
Painted wings and giants's rings make way for other toys.
One grey night it happened, Jackie Paper came no more
And Puff that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar.

His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain
Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane.
Without his lifelong friend, Puff could not be brave
So, Puff that mighty dragon sadly slipped into his cave, oh

I'm posting this up as an example of another song that makes me cry.
Puff, waiting alone in his cave. Waiting for Jackie Paper. Who never ever comes back.

I can get quite worked up if I let myself think too much about it.
Hey, I'm a libran. We're deep. ~cough~

2005-03-14T20:21:00.000Z

This is the first day of my life
I swear I was born right in the door way
I went out in the rain
Suddenly everything changed they're spreading
blankets on the beach
Yours is the first face that I saw
I think I was blind before I met you
I don't know where I am
I don't know where I've been
But I know where I want to go
So I thought I'd let you know
These things take forever, I especially am slow
But I realized how I need you
And I wondered if I could come home
I remember the time you drove all night
Just to meet me in the morning
Yeah I thought it was strange
You said everything changed
You felt as if you just woke up
And you said, "This is the first day of my life."
I'm glad I didn't die before I met you
Now I don't care, I could go anywhere with you
And I'd probably be happy
So if you want to be with me
With these things there's no telling
we'll just have to wait and see
But I'd rather be working for a pay check
Than waiting to win the lottery
Besides, maybe this time it's different
I mean, I really think you like me

The First Day of My Life - Bright Eyes.

I really hated this song when I first heard it.
But now it makes me cry.
Stupid bright Eyes.
Pah!

Just seen an lj post from my mate Noel.
He has cancer. He's not going to die from it.
Mainly all his hairs fallen out, he's a pretty goth boy so its wierd imagining him without hair.
Happily, though, it seems that he still gets mistaken for a girl.
He's 29. It's not a very fair/moral world is it. :(

2005-03-10T15:33:00.000Z

I see the sky from the other side
through the inverse lens
of flat dead eyes

2005-03-09T16:54:00.000Z

Once upon a time,
in a land far away,
beautiful, independent,
self-assured princess
happened upon a frog as she sat,
contemplating ecological issues
on the shores of an unpolluted pond
in a verdant meadow near her castle.
The frog hopped into the princess' lap
and said: Elegant Lady, I was once a handsome prince,
until an evil witch cast a spell upon me.

One kiss from you, however,
and I will turn back
into the dapper, young prince that I am
and then, my sweet,
we can marry and set up housekeeping in your castle
with my mother,
where you can prepare my meals,
clean my clothes, bear my children,
and forever
feel grateful and happy doing so.
That night,
as the princess dined sumptuously
on lightly sautéed frog legs
seasoned in a white wine
and onion cream sauce,
she chuckled and thought to herself:

I don't fucking think so!

Har har har!

2005-03-08T22:23:00.000Z

Me:"Today's International Womens Day."
Her:" Yeah, I was talking with Phil about it in work. It's just made up by lesbians anyway."
Me:".." ~has brain haemmorage~

Sometimes I wonder why I don't just buy that gun....

2005-03-08T00:41:00.000Z

Bought a new set of Tarot cards today, the Grande Etteillia deck.
I've been trying to get into them for ages, but the AE Waite deck I own really does very little for me.
Actually, I prefer to use playing cards- not least because they're less awkward for my little paws.

[Edited in later while she was in a more loquacious mood]
In the year I lived in halls every now and then there would come a knock on my door. Outside would be my friend Lovelina and just about every Asian girl on the floor. "Helen, read our cards.."
And that would be the rest of my evening gone.
It didn't matter that I couldn't do it without the book or that I'm not seamless shifting through the cards, all that mattered was that they got to sit there giggling in Chinese and Korean and the rest while I sat there in a paranoid state going "what? What? Are they laughing at me? is this some complex joke?!!"

*****
Sidenote.
My room reeks of pot. How can my parents not know? Actually, I think they turn a blind eye because I'm the 'bohemian' of the family. They put up with my minor piercings, and don't threaten to kick me out over getting a tattoo. They made my sister take her belly piercing out and she's 20. It's all very sad and Catholic conservative. When I took up yoga my mum said "I don't think the Pope would approve.."

2005-03-05T23:23:00.000Z

There will be storms, child
There will be storms
And with each tempest
You will seem to stand alone
Against cruel winds

But with time, the rage and fury
Shall subside
And when the sky clears
You will find yourself
Clinging to someone
You would have never known
But for storms.

Storms, Margie DeMerell

***
I have a terrible confession. I would totally have sex with Israel Regardie on the basis that he had the sexiest name of all time, full of the front mouth vowel sounds that I do so adore.
Having seen a picture though, I can say it would have had to have been on the basis of his name..

2005-03-05T20:47:00.000Z

So. One of the ancient wise men- by accident, of course,- managed to say something very smart: "Love and hunger rule the world." Ergo: To rule the world man has got to rule the rulers of the world. Our forebears finally managed to conquer Hunger, by paying a terrible price: I'm talking about the 200-Years War, the war between the City and the Country. it was probably religious prejudice that made the Christian savages fight so stubbornly for their "bread."* But in the year 35 before the founding of OneState our present petroleum food was invented. True, only 0.2 of the worlds population survived. On the other hand, when it was cleaned of a thousand years of filth, how bright the face of the earth became! And what is more, the zero point two tenths who survived...tasted earthly bliss in the granaries of OneState.
But isn't it clear that bliss and envy are the numerator and denominator of that fraction known as happiness? And what sense would there be in all the numberless victims of the 200-years War if there still remained in our life some cause for envy? But some cause did remain, because noses remained the button noses and classical noses mentioned in that conversation on our walk, and because there are some whose love many people want, and others whose love nobody wants.

*this word has come down to us only as a poetic metaphor. it is not known what the chemical composition of this material was.

- We, Yevgeny Zamyatin.

"His favourite idea was the absolute freedom of the human personality to create, to imagine, to love, to make mistakes, and to change the world. This made him a highly inconvenient citizen of two despotisms, the tsarist and the Communist, both of which exiled him, the first for a year, the latter forever."

Haw haw

2005-03-03T19:30:00.000Z

While shopping for tampons please observe the proper protocols
This made me chuckle.

and this.

the saddest poem

2005-03-01T22:37:00.000Z

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.

Pablo Neruda

2005-03-01T01:23:00.000Z

You're the words that come out easy,
And I am speechless at best.
Your star it seems to shine above the rest.
You're the face before the cameras,
The smile i'd like to earn.
The closest thing to perfect,
In a hollywood to burn.
You're the beauty that is deeper,
Than eyes can merely see.
The closest thing to perfect.
But the farthest thing from me.

I'd love to be,
The shoulder that you cry on.
I'd love to be,
The friend you call when things are great.

You're the dream that hasn't ended,
And I'm still anxious for rest.
Your words they seem to hang above my head.
You're the bud before the flower,
Unfurls into full bloom.
Captivating beauty,
But its maybe all too soon.
You're the song that writes a story,
But leaves alot to read.
The closest thing to perfect,
But the farthest thing from me.

I'd love to be,
The shoulder that you cry on.
I'd love to be,
The friend you call when things are great.

And like I really deserve a chance to,
Sit across the table,
And tell you that I think you're wonderful.
And I think you're something special.
I guess this is my only chance to,
Say I wish I knew you,
Because I'm sure you're wonderful,
If I'd get to know you.

-August in Bethany, Juliana Theory.

For hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost as mine

2005-02-24T18:51:00.000Z

I just wanted to save that line.

Best Conversation Ever. (that just happened in my house).

Father enters living room. His two daughters are watching tv.
Dad: Look at her (me) sitting there like a Buddha, and you sat there like you're eating canapes. (pronounces can-ape) (Leaves room)
Sister: Whats a canape?
Me: He means a canape. (pronounced can-a-pe)
Sister: Oh, I thought they weren't edible.
Me: No, thats a canopy.
Exits room to hall where Father is about to re- enter lving room.
Dad (is holding a packet of pancakes) Tell her those are canapes.
Me: No, Dad. They're crepes.

2005-02-24T18:42:00.000Z

I rip you apart.
My vision is glass shards.
I see through the shadows in your dark wet heart.
I know you intimately in all the shades of grey.

This is crystal.
Sharp.
Refracting the truth in broken mirror slivers.
You cut yourself to obscure the view.
No matter.

I
See
Clear
As
Day.

You can stir the silt up all you want.
There is no obstruction.
I see right through to the bottom.

Aztec Astrology

2005-02-20T23:49:00.000Z

Aztec Natal Horoscope for 12 October 1982
The day is 6 Ocelotl - Ocelot
The sign of Ocelotl is the Ocelot, the bravest of wild animals and living in the mountains.

The presiding deity is Tlazolteotl, the Witch goddess, the goddess of dirt, who represented cruelty and yet, the power to eat the filth of human sins when they were confessed to her by a penitent.

The person born on this day will be very courageous and, like the ocelot, would make a fierce adversary and one to avoid trouble with. Although this could result in a cruel streak, some will inherit the characteristics of the goddess Tlazolteotl and have a forgiving nature, making them a person in whom you can confide.

Generally speaking, this person will make a good friend or partner.

The week is 1 Atl - Water
The presiding deity is Chalchiuhtotolin, a form of the god Tezcatlipoca as the Jewelled Turkey. Those who saw this terrible apparition of Tezcatlipoca could enjoy great riches and wealth, provided that they could hold him by the tail. Few who saw it at night however had the courage and generally ran away in fear.

People born during this week will be courageous, forthright and successful. They will also be deceptive, especially with members of the opposite sex, however the signs of penance that are within this week signifies a forgiving nature and a good chance that they are the type to suffer pangs of remorse.

This person makes rather a mixed bag, with both courage and deceit, the power to overthrow enemies and yet feelings of guilt and penance for doing so. It is possible that individuals will also have a strong religious inclination, out of which they will find much joy

2005-02-20T01:26:00.000Z

When I was a child, running in the night,
i was afraid of what might be
Hiding in the dark and hiding on the street,
and of what was following me

The hounds of love are calling
I've always been a coward,
and I don't know what's good for me

Well here I go,it's coming at me through the trees
Help me, someone, help me, please
Take your shoes off, and i will throw them in the lake,
and I will be, two steps on the water

I found a fox, who was caught by dogs,
he let me take him in my hands
His little heart, it beat so fast
And I'm ashamed to be running away
From nothing real, i just can't deal with this
I feel ashamed to be there

Among your hounds of loving
And feel your arms surround me
I've always been a coward,
and i dont know what's good for me

Oh, here I go, don't let me go, hold me down
It's coming at me through the trees
Help me, someone,
help me, please

Take my shoes off, and i will throw them in the lake,
and I will be, two steps on the water
And I will be, two steps on the water

Do you know what I need, do you know what I need,
i need love love love love love, yeah
Take my shoes off, and throw them in the lake,
and I will be, two steps on the water
Do you know what I need, do you know what I need,
i need love love love love love, yeah
Do you know what I need, do you know what I need,
i need love love love love love, yeah

(this is the futureheads version, if you can't hear the backing vocal please adjust your audio. Is it sick that one of the reasons I like these guys so much is that they look like they should be off teaching science somewhere?)

2005-02-18T19:12:00.000Z

"Before the beginning of great brilliance and beauty there
first must be a period of complete chaos."
- I-Ching

Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.

2005-02-18T01:24:00.000Z

I dream of you. I touch your face and the skin melts away.
I press my fingers into the exposed flesh of your cheeks- they sink deeply in. The effect is of tomato flesh when peeled carefully, yielding easily, a full red that is lit from within.
You do not seem affected in any adverse way and I feel only a deep and tender affection for you then. I understand your beauty and it leaves me weak.

On the edges of sleep I think of kissing you.
I pull you to me as though you have no bones, a human river for me to drink from.
You belong to me here.
I have a thousand sharp teeth that rise out through my lips. I feel a complete horror at the moment but you do not stop.
I do not know if you seem them, and I do not stop myself. I come to kiss you deeply and begin to eat your mouth.

2005-02-16T17:33:00.000Z

Lover lift me up, high enough
to the star of gold in the heart
of the climbing rose

An how she knows, what to hold
an what to leave behind, but close
an how come I don't
how come I don't

Lover let me see, where she finds
the strength to rise
above the weeds and other plants
an how come I can't
how come I can't

Lover let me go, let me see
just how it feels to bloom, all by yourself
oh I know I can
oh you know I can

Lover lift me up, high enough
to see the star of gold in the heart
of the climbing rose.

The new Mercury Rev album is lovely.
For best effects listen to in warm dark room.

You gotta start movin on
it will be better in the sun
just move ahead, it won't be long
and it'll be brighter

2005-02-08T19:01:00.000Z

MY SHORT SKIRT

My short skirt
is not an invitation
a provocation
an indication
that I want it
or give it
or that I hook.

My short skirt
is not begging for it
it does not want you
to rip it off me
or pull it down.

My short skirt
is not a legal reason
for raping me
although it has been before
it will not hold up
in the new court.

My short skirt, believe it or not
has nothing to do with you.

My short skirt
is about discovering
the power of my lower calves
about cool autumn air traveling
up my inner thighs
about allowing everything I see
or pass or feel to live inside.

My short skirt is not proof
that I am stupid
or undecided
or a malleable little girl.

My short skirt is my defiance
I will not let you make me afraid
My short skirt is not showing off
this is who I am
before you made me cover it
or tone it down.
Get used to it.

My short skirt is happiness
I can feel myself on the ground.
I am here. I am hot.

My short skirt is a liberation
flag in the women's army
I declare these streets, any streets
my vagina's country.

My short skirt
is turquoise water
with swimming colored fish
a summer festival
in the starry dark
a bird calling
a train arriving in a foreign town
my short skirt is a wild spin
a full breath
a tango dip
my short skirt is
initiation
appreciation
excitation.

But mainly my short skirt
and everything under it
is Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
-Eve Ensler, Vagina Monologues

2005-01-08T19:56:00.000Z

Fools! You think of "god" as a sentient being. God is the word used to represent a force. This force created nothing, it just helps things along. It does not answer prayers, although it may make you think of a way to solve a problem. It has the power to influence you, but not decide for you. -Diogenes

2004-12-30T17:33:00.000Z

Hack Yourself

"You owe no allegiance to that self-image if it harms you. If you don't like the story your life has become — tell yourself a better one."

2004-11-17T01:50:00.000Z

Hide me
from me.
Fill these
holes with eyes
for mine are not
mine. Hide
me head and need
for I am no good
so dead in life
so much time.
Be wing, and
shade my me
from my desire
to be
hooked fish.
That worm
wine
looks sweet and
makes my me
blind. And, too,
my heart hide
for I shall at
this rate it also
eat in time.

'Cannibal' - Stan Rice.

2004-10-19T21:59:00.000+01:00

All the little birds
had
flown
away
is
where you are.

2004-10-19T13:56:00.000+01:00

The Cat With Hands

Disturbing short film.

You should watch it.

Jim Morrison

2004-09-30T01:11:00.000+01:00

An angel runs
Thru the sudden light
Thru the room
A ghost precedes us
A shadow follows us
And each time we stop
We fall

Jim Morrison

2004-08-22T14:16:00.000+01:00

The sea was ink and I blew my past away on it.
I had followed the path of the moon on it far out beyond the shore to where the lady waited.
She had me throw my past in the water and blow on it to wash it far out, beyond where I could see it.
I kept looking at her to see her reaction, but I could not make out her features. Her skin had a quality about it that it looked like living rock. It was so pale and the colour of the moon, not white but radiant. her hair was dark and hung in plaits about her and she wore a simple dress with dark lines about the collar. Her face though, swam before me, a blur.

When we were totally alone she turned to me and grabbed me by the shoulders. She pushed me down violently into the black waters and held me there as I thrashed and fought against her grip. When she pulled me up I didn't fight, she was too strong, and hung there in her grip. She spoke to me then for the first time and though I didn't know the language she used, I understood perfectly what she was telling me.

She put me under twice more after that, each time catching me off guard, yet each time revealing more to me. She was not trying to hurt me, but this was necessary didn't I know. She loved me, and it was intense.

2004-08-13T17:33:00.000+01:00

"Je voudrais pas crever" by Boris Vian.

Je voudrais pas crever
Avant d'avoir connu
Les chiens noirs du Mexique
Qui dorment sans rêver
Les singes à cul nu
Dévoreurs de tropiques
Les araignées d'argent
Au nid truffé de bulles

Je voudrais pas crever
Sans savoir si la lune
Sous son faux air de thune
A un coté pointu
Si le soleil est froid
Si les quatre saisons
Ne sont vraiment que quatre
Sans avoir essayé
De porter une robe
Sur les grands boulevards
Sans avoir regardé
Dans un regard d'égout
Sans avoir mis mon zobe
Dans des coinstots bizarres

Je voudrais pas finir
Sans connaître la lèpre
Ou les sept maladies
Qu'on attrape là-bas
Le bon ni le mauvais
Ne me feraient de peine
Si si si je savais
Que j'en aurai l'étrenne
Et il y a z aussi
Tout ce que je connais
Tout ce que j'apprécie
Que je sais qui me plaît
Le fond vert de la mer
Où valsent les brins d'algues
Sur le sable ondulé
L'herbe grillée de juin
La terre qui craquelle
L'odeur des conifères
Et les baisers de celle
Que ceci que cela
La belle que voilà
Mon Ourson, l'Ursula

Je voudrais pas crever
Avant d'avoir usé
Sa bouche avec ma bouche
Son corps avec mes mains
Le reste avec mes yeux
J'en dis pas plus faut bien
Rester révérencieux

Je voudrais pas mourir
Sans qu'on ait inventé
Les roses éternelles
La journée de deux heures
La mer à la montagne
La montagne à la mer
La fin de la douleur
Les journaux en couleur
Tous les enfants contents
Et tant de trucs encore
Qui dorment dans les crânes
Des géniaux ingénieurs
Des jardiniers joviaux
Des soucieux socialistes
Des urbains urbanistes
Et des pensifs penseurs
Tant de choses à voir
A voir et à z-entendre
Tant de temps à attendre
A chercher dans le noir

Et moi je vois la fin
Qui grouille et qui s'amène
Avec sa gueule moche
Et qui m'ouvre ses bras
De grenouille bancroche

Je voudrais pas crever
Non monsieur non madame
Avant d'avoir tâté
Le goût qui me tourmente
Le goût qu'est le plus fort
Je voudrais pas crever
Avant d'avoir goûté
La saveur de la mort...

I wouldn't want to die
Before having known
The black mexican dogs
Who sleep without dreaming
The butt-naked monkeys
Gobbling up tropics
The silver spiders in
Webs riddled with bubbles

I wouldn't want to die
Not knowing if the moon
Behind its fake nickel look
Has a sharper side
If the sun is cold
If the four seasons
Are really only four
Not having tried
To wear a dress
On the boulevards
Not having peeped
Through a sewer peephole
Not having put my dick
Inside weirdo corners

I wouldn't want to end
Without experiencing leprosy
Or the seven diseases
One catches over there
Neither the good nor the bad
Would cause me some sorrow
If if if I knew that
I would get it firsthand
And there iz also
Everything I know
Everything I like
That I know that I like
The green bottom of the sea
Where the seaweeds waltz
On the rippled sand
The burnt grass in June
The crackling earth
The smell of conifers
And the kisses of the one
She's this and she's that
The belle here she comes
My bearcub, Ursula

I wouldn't want to die
Before having used up
Her mouth with my mouth
Her body with my hands
The rest with my eyes
I say no more one should
Remain polite

I wouldn't want to fade
Without someone inventing
Eternal roses
The two hour day
The sea at the mountain
The mountain at the sea
The end of pain
Newspapers in color
All children happy
And so many other tricks
That sleep inside the brains
Of genius engineers
Of jovial gardeners
Of concerned socialists
Of urban urbanists
And of thoughtful thinkers
So many things to see
To see and to hear
So much time to wait
Searching in the dark

And me I see the end
It swarms and it comes closer
With its ugly face
And it opens its arms to me
Like a cripplety frog

I wouldn't want to die
No sir no madam
Before having tested
The taste which torments me
The taste which is the strongest
I wouldn't want to die
Before having tasted
The flavour of death...

2004-08-05T21:20:00.000+01:00

A thousand doors ago
when I was a lonely kid
in a big house with four
garages and it was summer
as long as I could remember,
I lay on the lawn at night,
clover wrinkling under me,
the wise stars bedding over me,
my mother's window a funnel
of yellow heat running out,
my father's window, half shut,
an eye where sleepers pass,
and the boards of the house
were smooth and white as wax
and probably a million leaves
sailed on their strange stalks
as the crickets ticked together
and I, in my brand new body,
which was not a woman's yet,
told the stars my questions
and thought God could really see
the heat and painted light,
elbows, knees, dreams, goodnight.

- Anne Sexton.

2004-08-01T13:32:00.000+01:00

The problem for me with the past and the future is that in moments of lapsed concentration they blur. So when I woke up with you in our bed this morning I found nothing strange with that. The strangeness came when upon waking further I realised that that had not yet happened and found myself alone and without you for ages to come.

I wish I could cut through the illusion and be with you now.
You are my mountain, my rock. No matter how the world changes you remain the same.