cut clarsh

I am a little miffed right now.

I’ve gone through a lot of trouble ((happiness is the reward of industry and labor)) and a lot of allaying of others, and for what ((and dancing is a waste of time))?

I played the heqqq out of this game, and I just remembered it a few days ago:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dragon_Warrior_Monsters

it was so awesome, I loved it the best, really.  it mixed my favorite elements of Creatures, the P.F. Magic games, and Pokemon.  Which were, of course, amateur genetic research and making animals fight each other.
There was some browser-based game which was almost even better.  It was a false world, you got to pick herbivore, carnivore, and I think omnivore, and then different mouths–different legs–different torsos.  See how it works in the fake environment,  eat/fight/breed with other people’s creations, and it was just really fun.  You could follow your animal’s lineage, see how they’re active in the world.  I was always a carnivore, pretty much everyone was.  It was pretty obvious that it was the way to go as far as game’s world went.  Also, they had awesome mouths.  It was actually probably most like Spore.  Spore was alright, too.  I wish someone would make a game like those, but not nearly as cutesy-rendered.  One of the old SimSeries had a cover that I loved, but the game itself apparently wasn’t exactly what I would want; the cover certainly looked that way.    Reading about it now, it might actually be more suited to what I want.  It doesn’t look very interactive, though.  More like plug in the traits of your new plant or animal, see how it does.  I want to follow it around and make it bite stuff.
I’m still pissed, though.

If I had a game where I controlled a giant eye with a mouth on a stalk I wouldn’t feel this way, because I would just make it destroy every other animal.  Or maybe a crocodile with a gazelle’s legs.  Or a flying velociraptor, or a big herd of those one dinosaurs from Lost World.

shia laveau

someone’s search string that brought up my blog for some raisin:
“i heart you, i heart you, i heart~ you!~ that’s all i’d like to say. unless i find a way… i’ll speak the only words i know that yoooou’d understand~”
very qt, very qt.  I can only presume that someone got a secreeeet love note from a seeeeecret admirer and their only clue was the above, written on a little pad of paper all with some gel ink pen :___)  so they sneak off to google it and the only thing that comes up is my hateful screeds ahahah just because I so happen to use a lot of tildes and awkward phrases.

anyway, if you google it more or again, or something, what you’re really looking for is a Beatles fan, or at least someone elementarily familiar with the song Michelle.  Jack Jones does a very good version.   MAYBE YOUR ADMIRER IS NAMED MICHELLE, OR YOU ARE MICHELLE?  either way you kids are probably pretty cute.  here, have some lovesong:

TWISTING IS SHAKING, SHAKING AND TWISTING TWISTING AND SHAKING ALONE IN THE NIGHT WHAT HAPPENES TO TWISTY CATS WHEN SHAKEN DISABLED FROM BEGINNING HURT BY NATURE SAVED BY 000, MAYBE SOMEDAY, UH SOME GOT GOOD TWISTIN TONIGHT SOME TRUST IN TWISTIN OTHERS IN MARBLE WHEELS, OH, HOW, LONESOME IT FEELS, DOVE (????)

I used to listen to this song on repeat while carving the name of my beloved into my chest.  Towards the last verse, I’d usually pour the ink.  Hey, sometimes gel pens!  Twinnin’ it.  Then I’d kill their dog and harass their family with my thuggish, ruggish friends.  Sometimes the dad ended up dead, but I don’t remember the very end of the movie/my life that well, but suffice to say I follow what you post-tweens are up to, heh heh heh.
EITHER WAY EVERY NIGHT I BUUURNED

I DO GO ON,
anyway,
person who was trying to find the meaning of those words, they’re similar to the lyrics of top beatles song ‘Michelle’.  so either your name is michelle or your looovebiiiird’s name is Michelle.  Nice job, it is a pretty name.

the only songs with my name in it that is referencing an actual person are some stiffs, inc song that I actually kind of like, some song by some crummy british band about some slut, and some song by some crummy american band about some total slut

]:___(
SUCK IT, MICHELLE

I’m watching Oz for the second time, and I can’t believe how many episodes I missed.  I guess it was tough for me to sneak around and watch HBO when it was originally airing and I was like…12.  Either way, NOW i get it!  Prison suxxx!

When I really think about it though, I think I could handle ladyprison.  From what I understand, it’s just a lot of showering and hair-pulling, so whatever.  Even realistic ladyprison, though, all women are pretty much the same basic strength, any of them can be beaten.  It doesn’t matter how big she would be, she’d still just be a lady.  I think I’d be able to dominate them as easily as anyone else who had a little sense could; I’d stalk around the joint, pretending to be an abusive husband or an absentee father.  They’ll teem, or they’ll steam, but either way, I’m clean.

I’d just tell them to get me some magazines and shut the HELL up, Karen.  You’re always, ALWAYS going on about that god-DAMN radiator. LOOK, what can I DO right now to fix it?  I’M TRYIN TO PAY RENT YOU WHORE!!  Ahh always nagging, nagging, nagging!!  One of these days I’m just gonna shut you up for once! FINE GO TO YOUR MOTHER’S, SHE’S A WHORE TOO.  SAY HELLO TO YOUR DAD WHILE YOU’RE THERE, THAT PRICK OWES ME 40 BUCKS FOR YOUR CARBURETOR!!!!!!!!
(old style can is thrown, connects with slamming door, man ((steve)) retrieves it)
(two hours later)
(scene)
(mesh door pounds, a quarter of the glass pane already absent from previous battery)
KAREN!  KAAAAREN!  I’m sooorrrry!  I love you baby please just come home LOOK the kids need you, I need you, the house needs you!
(steve begins to sing a few bars of whatever sort of song people like this play at their weddings)
KAREN IT’S OUR WEDDING SONG
KAREN
(shadow moves across pane)
you…KAAAAAAAAAAREN
ahhhh you whore i know you’re in there this isn’t even your parents house
(meth lab explosion)
(star wipe)
–post script – j. geil’s band : freeze frame would be the song–

b-b-b-birds underneath

I know I’m supposed to not like Chuck Palahniuk, but I’m enjoying Haunted.  It’s some nice, light fare that is written in a very easily digestable way.  It’s definitely a nice break from the more prose-y, specific, or scientific authors I usually read.  It’s nice and gentle, no eye-blearing sentences filled to the brim with words, upon words, upon words.  All short ‘n’ sassy.  He opens with that ‘Guts’ story, though, which  I think is a bad idea.  How can you top that?   I doubt he will have topped it by the end of my reading the book.

I also really liked Lullaby when I read it years ago, same with Choke.  There was one I tried to read, but just couldn’t be bothered to finish; I think it might’ve been Invisible Monsters.  That came around the same time people started saying he was a hack, a gimmick, something that introduces young adults to ””””alternative fiction””””’ but not an author you’ll be reading past 25.  Well…I am like, five years away from 25 and I’m reading a book of his that is pretty much as entertaining as any other thing nearby, so~~!!~!~!

Wow, I had no idea he was gay.  Not that it is pertinent or anything, it was just something I didn’t know.  Also, talk about shitty, what happened to his dad and his girlfriend.  People more or less aren’t that great.

I’m liking Haunted though, and I don’t care who knows it!  Yes, I know it was published a few years ago and it probably would’ve made more sense for me to have read it back then, back when I purchased it, but NAY it’s time languishing in my closet has done it well!  For instance, the spine bends easily.  You don’t get THAT with a brand new book, do you? So, there is that.  Also, I look edgier because it is sort of an older edition, an edition printed in the U.K., even, because I bought it when I was there.

Anyway, I guess what I’m saying is, it is nice to have an easy-to-read, short-sentence author that creates interesting plot devices, interesting characters, and interesting situations (also, one that is gross)–sort of like how other people would read romance (Jodi Picoult, I think is one of them) or those “”"”chick-lit”"”"” books like…The Time Traveller’s Wife or god I don’t even know, Gossip Girl?  The books women read at “beaches”, or while waiting in hospital lobbies.  I read one of those sort of books in my entire life, and I wish I never, ever did.  Ever.  Even though the book wasn’t terrible (The Lovely Bones) and I was of an age where any amount of reading was considered pretty alright, it just feels dirty to remember it.  I mean, that is the sort of book women who haven’t read for leisure at all, the entire time they’ve been alive, picks up at an airport because their flight has been delayed a few hours.  I despise that genre of book.  If you want that sort of shit, just rent Sex in the City.  Or better yet, don’t do anything like that, stop wanting ‘light-hearted emotiontainment’, and grow up.  Also, don’t read Harry Potter, or Twilight, or anything like that.  Those books are meant for children, you goons.  I’m not saying you’ve got to be up to your Balzac in Dostoevsky, but just read something that was meant for your age group, at the very least–and isn’t exclusively meant to entertain “single, twenty-something women”–because well, here…I can just give you a quick synopsis, without ever even so much as reading one:
“BOYFRIENDS BOYFRIENDS SINGLE NOW ACK HE WAS A BAD BOYFRIEND, HANGING OUT WITH FRIENDS ONE IS CATTY, ONE IS A HOMOSEXUAL MALE WHO IS JUST HILARIOUS (((‘OH TIM I WISH YOOOOU’D BE MY BOYFRIEND’))), ONE IS REALLY PRETTY BUT SORT OF DUMB/NAIVE/SLUTTY, AND ONE IS JUST LIKE ME, ACK, ACK, ACK! I’M ALLY MCBEAL FOR GENERATION NEXXXT, I’M A CAREER GAL BUT I WANT TRUE LOVE ANYWAY, SQUAWK, SQUAWK, SQUAWK!  MINOR INTRIGUE AMONG OUR GAGGLE OF HENS ONE OF US IS CHEATING ON HER HUSBAND, AHHH~~I FIND A BOYFRIEND AND AFTER SOME MINOR CONFLICT CONCERNING MY CAREER WE ARE ENGAGED HE PUTS UP WITH ALL OF MY NEUROSIS AND I LET HIM WATCH FOOTBALL ATITTER TITTER AGEEGGEEEGEEE”

Interstitially, mention actual stores or items of clothing, real-life baubles to get the lady’s purchase-gland working alongside the Oh My God, This Book is Just Like Real Life with My Friends and Storefronts!! oblongata.
see:
Karen grabbed her Birkin Bag and jetsetted off to her next high-profile meeting, all the while thinking of Tad, glorious Tad.  Her Gay Friend calls her on her Blackberry Curve, and makes a really excellent joke about Tad’s hanging ‘Tad’, a reference to the 2000 election and the conflict in Florida over hanging ‘Chad’s.  Derrick is a really good friend, and if he wasn’t a Gay Man with a Live-In Partner Karen would love to just watch The Notebook with him, over, and over, and over again.   Karen sighs dreamily and awakes from this daydream, only to see that the cattiest darn lawyer in the entire firm has just came into the subway car.  “Weelllll, if it isn’t Kaaaareeeen, the other giiirl I work with whom I feel a lot of hostiiility towards because we’re wooomeeen and we just can’t accept being possible sexual compeeetittoooors,” cackles Lauren.  “Take it easy, Lauren.  I’m a girl’s girl, totally accepting of other girls’ faults ‘n’ follies, you’ll see, in time you’ll learn to get along with me!  I’m sure I’ll just find out you’ve got an abusive boyfriend, or you are an alcoholic but not in a really dangerous, scary way,” titters Karen.  “We’ll grow to become close friends and confidantes, probably directly after some big fight.  Maybe I’ll see you are cheating on your ‘hubby’ who is also a partner at our big, childish law firm, and I’ll threaten to tell him of your exploits.   At that point, you’ll fall into a heap, crying out that he’ll kill you if he finds out, and that he is such a monster, and you’re also totally drunk.  I’ll understand and help you; after all, I’m a girl, a-giggle!” a-giggles Karen, fiddling with her Thakoon poncho, on sale for 4,590 dollars at Nordstrom.

I think I’m on to something here.  Chick-lit, let’s do this thing.   I’m ready if you’re ready, to FORGET EVERYTHING YOU KNOW ABOUT READING BOOKS!!!

basal wrathbone

In what has already been a year of things that made me laugh, this is the absolute tops, a Bendel bonnet, a Shakespeare sonnet:
Everyone here made the right decision, clearly.

On to TEEEAAAARS AND CRRRIIIEEEES ABOUT SOBSOBS
I think I might just stay the way I am, forever.  I don’t much care for the thought, but I don’t have a lot of options.

Really, I have plenty of options.  I just don’t know what to do, and I probably never will.

I want so much, but the ultimate goal is so little.  Why bother with all the effort, when all I really want to do is survive?
I want whatever, I need one thing.   I’m too afraid to try, just afraid that I won’t do as well as I always hoped I would.  So I don’t try.   That has been the overarching theme of my life, for as long as I’ve been cognizant.  I guess I figure, maybe someday, someone will inspire me to become what I want to be, someone will encourage me to try, and to never mind missed perfection.   I’m just not the sort of person to compromise on what I think could be, or what I could accomplish.  The idea that I may fail at something I see as possible/attainable absolutely terrifies me, and paralyzes me.  So I try nothing, nothing I have any confidence in.  How stupid to only be willing to try things which you feel you’ll perform poorly in!  Any sort of ’skill’ I feel that I have, I have hidden all away in shame and fear–that it might not be as perfect as it has to be.

Then I idle, waiting, thinking someday someone will have the right series of words, the right stimulus, and they’ll be able to make me do it.   It being whatever it is that I am meant to do.  For a person who believes in nothing, I do certainly put a lot of stock in pre-destination–which is about the weakest aspect of mystic thought, right?  It is also the only part that has any bit of allure.  A completely directionless being, well, that is more or less what I am–and I don’t much care for it.  I need to have something, and I guess what I have, is the idea that someday I will do whatever it is I am meant to do.  Maybe it will just dawn on me, sometime soon, maybe never.  Maybe I’ll see something, and I’ll know.  Maybe I’ll listen, and I’ll understand completely.

If not, I could very well be working in mass-market retailers all of my life, having some sort of brood of children with some vaguely attractive nice guy with whom I share little but love.  Then matching sweatpants, giving up.  If I manage not to be divorced towards the end of my life; last few years, he never listens, but that is alright, I’ve never got anything to say.  We die, the children are sad, the grandchildren search their memories of horehound candy and old leather purses: ‘what was grandma like, anyway?  Oh, she sounds pretty okay, I suppose.’      I don’t really want that, but I am making no real steps to…not do that.  I need to believe I will be more, that some unseen Adam Smith is guiding me as well, and someday I will achieve …something.

If not, what have I done?  I look around at all the people who shop: day in, day out at this store, and I feel terrible.  Mostly because I see how frail we are, the mortality all around.  I see people, and I see my dad, my mom, anyone I love, myself, and I know we’re all nearing the end.  Any moment could come, and destroy every little bit.  Every word you ever said, every thing you ever did, every gene, every little, imperceptible bit of ‘you’, and it will all be gone from the consciousness soon enough.  Shredded beyond recognition, and everything just continues on as machinated, by nature, by aNcIeNt SeCxReT g0dZ, whatever.

I want to live forever.

Beyond that, they worked to accomplish things, they’re happy in their lives, they aren’t constantly wracked inward, wondering about themselves, and why they can’t just DO something, or NOT do something and just LET GO.  They do have so much more to live for, and I have the audacity to consider myself superior to some of them, based on their opinions or thoughts, or whatever…At least they have direction, and purpose.  At least they have love, and friends, and fun.  At least they have children, and futures, and pasts, and memories, and experiences, and they know what to say and what to do in their own lives.   They’re defined, quite human, they have so much more than I.

They don’t wait around forever for some muse, some hand, some figure to tell them what to do, to make up for what their own constitution lacks, to make them one whole person.  They have so much, and all I have is whatever all this is: what good has that done me, all this time?

Maybe I’ve been wrong all this time, maybe it is better to just let yourself ‘be’.  I just don’t know how easy it could be to give up the dream of inspiration, somewhere.  Maybe I am no more than what readily, visibly am.  Just vacuous words in the ether, some body with organs and headmeats, who won’t amount to anything for any particular reason.  The idea hurts, but it is something everyone else came to terms with as a child, right?  It isn’t that I think I’m special, or that I deserve something more than survival…I guess I just want to be the “”"”"”"best me”"”"”" there is, and I don’t feel that I am, and I have no idea how, or by what measure, I will be.  I can be more, just a little more, than what I am–but I just won’t do it, and if I do, how will I know?

It doesn’t matter anyway, this is just a lot of stupid words.  It makes me sick, in a totally different way, to see myself so weak.  Why am I just typing all this out–to what benefit?  None, of course, only detriment is possible from keeping an “”"”"online journal”"”"”" full of heartfelt wahwahs.

I guess I need to communicate my “feelings” to something or someone, even if it is just more nonspecific chatter in the din.

parjims coo

Perfumes I’d like to try:

Social Creatures – Rebel Ambush
M. Micallef – Aoud Gourmet
Omnia Profumo – Madera
Anne Pliska – Namesake
CSP – Matin Calin
Creative Scentualization – Joy Comes from Within
Creative Scentualization – Perfect Vanilla
Comme des Garcons – 3
Farmacia SS – Sofron
Farmacia SS – Aurora
Frapin – 1270
Hilde Soliani – Bell’Antonio
Il Profumo – Chocolat
Il Profumo – Chocolat Frais
Il Profumo – Chocolate Amere
L’artisan Parfumeur – Piment Brulant
L’atelier Boheme – Immortelle
Lostmarch – Lann-Ael
Montale – Chocolate Greedy
Montale – Amandes Orientales
Montale – Ginger Musk
Montale – Boise Vanille
Montale – Blue Amber
Montale – Musk to Musk
Montale – Orient Extreme
Montale – Vanilla Extasy
Montale – Vanille Absolu
Parfum d’Empire – Aziyade
Parfumerie Generale – Aomassai
Parfumerie Generale – Musc Maori
Pilar and Lucy -exact friction of the stars
Profumi di Pantelleria – Jailia
Serge Lutens – Arabie
Serge Lutens – Ambre Sultan
Serge Lutens – Chergui
Serge Lutens – Chypre Rouge
Serge Lutens – Datura Noir
Serge Lutens – Five O’ Clock Au Gingembre
Serge Lutens – Gris Clair
Serge Lutens – Rousse
Serge Lutens – Serge Noir
Serge Lutens – Un Bois Vanille *
Tocca – Brigitte
Thierry Mugler – Alien *
YOSH – Ginger Ciao 2.27
Keiko Mecheri – Sanguine
Sage EDTs – Amber
I Profumi di Firenze – Ambra Tibet
I Profumi di Firenze – Shambhala Tibet
Bond No. 9 – Fire Island
Bond No. 9 – Little Italy
Bond No. 9 – Coney Island
Bond No. 9 – New Haarlem (two As?)
Bond No. 9 – Chinatown *

*=   i tried a perfume and i liked it , the smell of its notes n su-u-uch
italics=  I’d really like to try it.

Names for infants I’d like to try:

Evelyn, Eloise, Elisa, Elise, Eleanor, Marilou sort of but I can see it going poorly, and a few more for girls I guess, they’re just easier to name–and no i don’t know why pretty much every one of them is an ‘E’ name, I think I just find it pleasant.  Also, pretty much every single one of them also has a song that I really like attached to it;probably no way to name a child, but my mom got my name because a favorite d00d of her youth murdered his ex-girlfriend in that hotel  ;____(  whatevs it has been a Fine name for all these years, no matter the origin.  Besides, where do children’s names come from usually, anyway?  It isn’t like I have some massive attachment to one name just out of nowhere; it comes from somewhere, usually some sort of media.  It just so happens that I like these songs, and I attach beauty and sentimentality to all of them, traits/feelings I’d like to see/have for any daughter.

boys are hard; I guess Victor (and they can easily transition into being a lady, or just go by Vic ((like Vic Mackey oh maaaan what a coolass son that would be))) is pretty alright, Marcus is totally acceptable (and hey they can be Mark if all else fails, a Perfectly Appropriate name for a job interview or whatever) and so is Lucius (then you can be Luke, which is a strapping name i spose), or equivalents thereof.  The problem with boy names is it is a lot harder to find names that can’t very quickly become feminized or tauntable.  Girls don’t get a lot of name-based-picking-ons (i would’ve seen it first hand if it was bigtime, my middle name is a pure combination of virgin and vagina after all, and i don’t think anyone ever really pointed it out), but you name a boy Demetrius and expect him to come home from school all slapped around WELL sorry it is a good name, even here in the modern united states!  not everyone has to be Ian or John or Kyle and certainly NO ONE needs to be Brooklyn or London.  That is one thing you can be sure of, future offspring, you will not have a location-based name.  I know how much it sucks.  every single bit of my name is really just a place–right down to the last.  it is just boring; i can’t tell you how many times ‘name meanings’ somehow came up in my classes, and people would go all around “oh my name means the holiest of beautiful stuff”, “sainted one here!”, and “aw cool a literary reference arent i sassy”

meanwhile, get to me, and it is solid ‘a port, commonly chalk-based’.

One english teacher said something about sailors, but I think he was trying to be more   h e a r t s t r i n g i s h  because it was something like “weary travellers, like sailors were back then especially, would find themselves at home with you”.  OH TY BRAH, it is sweet and all, but you know all of us tittered after you said it because for the love of christ the best thing my name is associated with is sailors on leave, which are a lusty group of roustabouts at best.  Hardly biblical.  everybody else got to begat somebody, meanwhile all I’m doing is sending chalk to and fro and apparently slagging around with sailors.  Or, processing meat in New York.  Or, being a tOaDaLlY pUnK hOtEl where two incredibly unattractive but very talented people allegedly had sex (leonard cohen and janis joplin) and two sort of attractive but very much the opposite of talented people met their doom (sid vicious and nancy spungen).

So that is it, that is me.  Awesome.  ps i am not pregnant just talkin bout some sweet, sweet names because i finally found a song with my name in it, being used as a name~~!!

Anyway, as I was saying, my kids are going to be named Hawkeye Spittlekraut and Bahia Starganza.  One will be a sharpshooter and the other a latin-american spy.

cool

following schemes

I know that someday I’ll control something.  I wish I wasn’t so frustrated; it all stems from feeling so powerless and weak–in almost every sense.  I’m emotionally strong, intellectually adequate, but none of that matters, really.  I’m missing something, and I just don’t know what it is.  I might never know, and I might just grow out of this feeling; maybe it is just a temporary thing, and once I start doing something new, have any sort of stimuli outside of whatever it is I have now, maybe I’ll calm down.   Maybe I’ll stop with all this anger…I know there isn’t anything wrong with me.  There is no medical condition that just causes short-fuses and rage, right?  If there was, I’d probably exhibit no other symptom.  I don’t go off on crying jags, I don’t go through manic phases, and I’m never depressed (in that clinical sense, of course).  I’m just very, very easy to anger–and when I do get angry, I can’t help but seethe and seethe with the most violent and hateful thoughts.   Just a regular tinderbox; but luckily, I suppose, I’m powerless.    I think, had I the fortune of being born male, I would’ve been a very strong, respected figure.   My anger would mean something, my revulsion would be beardstroked over, pondered, given consideration.  Maybe for the simple animal fact that I would have physical brute to back up any little blip of anger I felt.

Then again, in the masculine world, the odds are much better that your anger will actually get you…I don’t know, beaten up?  If you go around starting fights as a dude, it is fairly likely that at least once you’ll have that anger just beaten out of you.  You’d learn to keep it tempered.

I don’t keep it tempered, but I also don’t express it.  I’d alienate absolutely everyone I know if I let it be known how stupid-angry I get over things I couldn’t even possibly begin to control.  That’s just it, maybe.  I want so much to just choke it out, to make people see.  I never will though, I just don’t have “it”.  I know how much the “folks” of the United States would hate me, if they knew what sort of person I was, I know how much the people I ring out everyday would despise me; what sort of enemy they’d see me as.  I can’t help but do it myself, to one up them, I suppose, before they get the chance to know me–I know them, right?

Maybe not.  Logically, thinking, I know I can’t be so angry, there is nothing to be angry about, there are decent people on this Earth, people who would agree with me, and people who wouldn’t but wouldn’t hate me, either.

I really think it is a shame I became politically aware during Bush’s tenure.  He really polarized this country, to the point that as a young person I felt that my entire family and I were just unwelcome citizens, persona non grata.  There was just so much of that, everywhere I looked it just seemed like another issue was coming up that was treated like Jesus himself deigned it righteous, and that those who disagreed could either “love it or leave it”, or were just unpatriotic.  They made this bed, this bed that I’m seizuring with rage on, this where I feel like I am supposed to hate America, because they loved it.  Where I couldn’t possibly believe in God, because they used him to justify their ridiculousness and hate.   Where banners, ribbons and flags all make me shudder inwardly.  I know most of this country is completely apolitical; absolutely not interested.  I know that “my party” won–this time.  It just makes me sick to think I’m living in a country where the same people who made me feel completely, completely, completely unwelcome in my own country, now think they still have the right to do it still, even when “we” won.

Why do I give them all such power?  Why do I let their hate make me feel so much?  I don’t want to, it is very unhealthy.  I want to be mellow again, I just can’t be.  Every single day, I’m just so angry.  I don’t want to be.  I want to care about people, I want to be fair, I want to care about this country, I’d absolutely love to believe in something, but I can’t.  They took it away from me, and made it only for them, a representation of so much more insidious bullshit.   Why did I ever, and why do I still, let them define me and those like myself–which are, by and large, looking to be more and more a majority in this country?  Why have I let some increasingly marginalized group of radicals take anything away from me?

I want them to know how failed their movement was, I want Dobson to continue to admit the loss of the culture wars to reason and humanity, and I want those same people who so egged on people just like me, my grandfather, my grandmother, my mom and dad–making me feel so reviled, that my entire family would be considered wretched–I want them to ‘love it or leave it’.  I don’t know.  I wonder if it is more than this; it just seems so surface.  I just get so angry, so hateful.  I really don’t want to–I don’t enjoy the feeling, I don’t enjoy the thoughts, because there are plenty of fine, upstanding people who consider themselves Christian, patriotic, or even Republican in general.  They aren’t all bad people, it would be naive to think so.  It just seemed like nary a one of them was around from 2001-2007, when I was made to feel like I lived in a country that was going backwards in time, with absolutely no representation, none, for people who thought as I did.

I can’t help but think it is more than that, though.  I’ve felt that way for a long time, why would I just suddenly in the past year have uncontrollable fits of rage over something I’ve been aware of for years?

Maybe I do have some disorder.   I just couldn’t possibly guess which one would fit.  I mean, they all have auxiliary bits that don’t concern me.  Mood swings, kleptomania, depression, impulsive behavior.  It isn’t impulsive, I know when I’m going to get angry, I can see it coming, and I don’t really act on it, ever.  Totally out of fear of being noticably over-the-top though.  Like, I know I would feel better to hit something, or scream, or any of those basic sort of “eRrrrggghhhh im raaaggiiiingggg” things people do, but I can’t.  Partly, because it is just very unbecoming for a young lady to scream or hit a pillow or something, two, because screaming would make me hoarse and feel awkward (even if I was totally alone, I never, ever scream–not once in my life) and hitting stuff may very well backfire and hurt my hands, and finally, because it would really feel like I lost control at that point.

As long as I can keep it all in my mind, just inane, over-the-top fantasy that slowly drains me of my ragenergy with none the wiser, I’m still controlling it.

kizz mowwy

has anyone ever properly explained what the deal is with the clown horn (or as it is known in my family, The Clown Horn) sample in that song “Molly’s Lips”?  I mean the original, not the Nirvana cover, which inexplicably removes the “ohnee-ohnee” bit.  I know it is for honest about children’s television host, that might’ve been a witch or something.  I remember last time I cared about looking up information on this song, I read something about a witch.

Canada is probably the place I’d be happiest, given the climate, political stylings, and that they probably air Kids in the Hall reruns moreso than any other country.  Maybe, I’m not one hundred percent.  Also, The Poppy Family, and The Poppy Family Historical Legacy Tour.

Closest I’d get for real would be Wisconsin.  If I do move there, I think I’d better memorize how to spell the state’s name–it has always been a source of great shame for my family and I, my spelling of the name of that state.  Why can’t it be Vermont?  what can go wrong there

Anyway, I might be moving to Wisconsin, where people will probably think I have a southern accent.  I’m wincing IRL (in real life)

It should be totally acceptable, it isn’t like I have much here in Indiana that makes me want to stay.  Leave the fast-paced field of cashiering at what is apparently the only retailer hillbillies are aware of within a fifty mile radius of the Racing Capital of the World?  Not a chance, baby!  Abandon the sound of drag-racing and trains full of future high fructose corn syrup solids that gently rock me to wakedness at 4 in the morning?  Absolutely no, guy!  You’ll have to pry the soy and cornhusks from my cold, dead hands.

seriously though this state is pretty much pfffsssshhhawwwfffttt

My ideal location is wherever the odds are best that there will be one or two people around who “”"”"get”"”"” at least mid-level percentages of my “”"”"thing”"”"”, and they get exponentially higher the further north, further east, and possibly further west you go.

so lock up your daughters milwaukee because i might just tell them about some stupid song i listened to when i was six and then oscillate between laughing at things derisively and feeling guilty about the way i’ve laughed at things!

did Laverne and Shirley ever live in milwaukee?  thanks in advance

you know what is lamer than believing in one god ? believing in more than one

i’m talkin to uuu, asutruurururururuuu

whatever, the one that worships probably the nordic gods, and is probably just a cover for people who believe in zion conspiracies to get together without simon wiesenthal ))spspspsppsp?)) breaking up their meetings

i think that was the ’sect’ that did the pig slaughter i went to/ good for them

yeah, it was for freya.  pretty sweet, it was all pretty, pretty sweet/cool

eh then maybe it isn’t a race thing, because they didn’t seem very racist to me, but it isn’t the sort of thing that immediately jumps out at you at a ritual pig slaughter.  what is jumping out at you is the pig screams mostly

i bet at least one of the people at that slaughter had at least ONCE masturbated to a piece of furry erotica
I also bet at least one of them had heard a death in june song and didn’t immediately start lollin at the ku ku ku noises, maybe even ascribed some stupid reality to them
i bet at least eighty percent of them owned a shirt with a painting of a wolf on it
hmmmm

some women on a perfume message board i read (hey shut up JERKS) totally fight about “paths” and “magic” and such

it’d be nice to be able to believe in something, something other than the magic in a young girl’s heart and thinking you’re having a goodtime with the one that you just met, kicking sand from beach to beach, your clothes are soaking wet
but then you look around and see
a shadow on the run
(paper sun)
don’t be too upset because
it’s just a paper sun

something like that

but anyway, it would be nice to have faith, or belief in something intangible.  it isn’t like I ever just sat down and worked it out with myself, just went through the lines and decided i didn’t believe in god or ghosts or magic or anything fun, i just never did.  There was no revelation, no hosed-down bush, it was just pure from the very beginning–I didn’t believe in any of it.  Ghosts, UFOs, God, demons, angels, cryptozooligical things (alright so that one i might sometimes be convinced of, depending on the photos like that montag monster oh my godddddd that thing was awesome for the few minutes i didn’t know it was just a raccoon corpse), but zombies, vampires, whatever.  I never was afraid of things like that, I never admired things like that, I never thought things like that existed.  Not once, not for a moment—well, not that I remember.  I’m sure as a very small version of myself, I could’ve been convinced of a lot more than ten year old me–where I actually start remembering things.  Anyway, I’d like to discover some sort of thing that makes me go ooohhh well that sounds entirely plausible and like something I’d enjoy devoting that spiritual section of my mind to–but it has yet to happen.  I just can’t believe in anything like that, as much as I’d like to.  Not just for myself, but for my family.  I’d really love to think that when they die, or the ones that are currently dead, I’d just enjoy feeling as if their ’spirit will live on’, or something like that–something that softens the finality of death, right?  I just can’t convince myself.  I hope I’m wrong, I’d much prefer a world with something else, something beyond the scope, I guess.  I just don’t see it happening.

GETTIN DEEP N HEAVY UP I NTHISBLOG

while we’re revealing secrets, you and i, i’ll tell you a pretty cool one.  if you are into cool secrexxx i guess:
sometimes i tuck hair from one side of my face into the ear of the opposite side, and slip it across my upper lip so it looks like i have a mustache, and i look at myself and dance with a mirror to prog-metal
my name is charles
and i really hate when people talk about “twitter” in any capacity at all

GOODNIGHT DUDES

wear hair

who could imagine a sight so fair/!?!?/

Anyway, the nail polish I’ve been hunting for, and planning an Internet Order for is sold out on the only site it is so far been released to.

It used to be pretty easy to pick up the colors I liked, because it seemed most others didn’t want them.  Reds, corals, pinks, nudes all sold out; now it is all the ~~exotic~~ colors that are gone in a day or so.  Same with all other forms of cosmetic facial/body adornment; things I want are more popular these days.  Back in those heady days of using blush as eyeshadow because no company had released ‘red’ yet, I had no idea that someday all the neon and glittery nail polishes would be sold out the day they arrived.

Holographic, guys.  Holo—–graphic.  I remember lurking the hell out of drugstores, looking for the Sally Hansen Chrome “Nail Makeup”, Magic or whatever it was that was the holographic one (Opal, maybe?), the ones with the gemstoneglimmergimmick…

When I’d finally find some of the chromes, they’d be clearanced; nobody buying, nobody selling.   Seriously, this is all getting to one point:
Sally Hansen, come back out with your awesome mid-to-late-90s-to-very-early-oughts-pre-9/11 nail stuff.  What happened, Sandra?  Why is it just reds, plums, pigmentless ‘brights’, et all now?  Now that the world is ready for readily available chrome nails again, now that we’re whimpering for one more holographic nail polish to come out–and we’re wiling to shell out you know, like, eight dollars for it, now you’ve decided to stick to corals?

You used to be cool, before being cool was considering hep.  Now it is just a collection of safe roses, easy drop salmons, and pah.  Is it post ironic?  Please just make holographic fire-styled nail polishes again.  That was pretty good.

Also, I’ve seen rumors that there is a nail polish line somewhere in Korea that makes a polish that sort of is supposed to look like fur on your nails.
http://nfuohproduct.blogspot.com/

In addition, today I found out that I am totally sensitive to cinnamon fragrance oil.   Sucks, because I really like the smell of cinnamon when mixed with…other fragrances.  I tried using a conditioner with much in the way of cinnamon and I pretty much got hair-patterned rashes all over me.  :_( whatevs, they’re gone now, it was just upon contact.  Just sucks, because I really like cinnamon and the conditioner works so well–although I’ve got it in a few other fragrances, none of which contain cinnamon.  So, I can still enjoy the formula; not the scent, though.

I’m still frustrated as ever, but products really fill the hlole in my slolul
seriously though

shirellant shake

I’m just so angry, so much of the time.  Then, I’m so, so impotent.  I can’t destroy anything, I can’t make anything, I can’t change anything; I just have to wait myself out, wait until I just give up, start being content.

I’m too weak to destroy anything.
I’m too listless to make anything.
I’m too angry to change anything.

It just makes me more…angry.  Such a basal feeling, and the simple word a child would use to explain themselves.  Still, it is the best way to describe myself.  I’m angry.  I can’t feel better.  At least I’m not constantly down, I can’t stand that in a person; although I suppose it is a bit hypocritical of me to cast stones at people who just feel sad, when I’m always just the next emotion nearest.  It would just be nice to go through a day without feeling the need to rip something apart with my bare hands, and then getting further enraged at the realization that I just can’t do anything, to anything or anyone, ever.  I’m like a small, bitchy little dog that is chained up very short and far from others, and fed only vinegar.  Eventually I might just work myself into such a froth that I fall asleep.

I buy the little baubles and trinkets that catch my fancy, and they make me happy.  Buying them, organizing them, admiring them, using them.  Cosmetics, fragrance, clothes, shoes, haircare, whatever–pathetic.   I try and convince myself, people I vaguely know at work, maybe I could like him, maybe I could love him-and why?  At some point he may have mentioned in passing some media that I enjoy–brought it up positively.   I guess I just want to like something organic, not just all the little items I have.  That isn’t enough though, you can’t talk yourself into falling in love with someone based on a want to feel, or to care, or just wanting to feel like you actually ‘want’, or ‘need’ something.  I’m too picky for that, I suppose.  I’ll feel that when it is actually there to feel, not just when it seems convenient and within the realm of possibility, that I could at least see him loving me.  I’ll know when I see myself in love with them,  not just some world where they’ve been bamboozled by my “”"”"”"”"”"”"charms”"”"”"”"”"”"”" and I can put up with them.  Sure, I’d really dig total dedication and capitulation to me, but more than that, I’d like to feel the desire to dedicate myself to someone else.   I’d be more than willing to accept someone who looks in my eyes like a puppy, wanting nothing more than my approval and acceptance.  I’d like even more to come anywhere near feeling that for someone else, myself.

Whoever it is that may make me happy someday,  whatever– my predestined dreamluvzZz– is probably long dead.  Got too angry about something, just jumped through a window.   My dreamgirl don’t exist, at the age of five she slit her wrist.  Or working at a McDonald’s in Wisconsin, whichever version you prefer.

This devolved into something lame rather quickly.

Is there a special pill for people who are consistently mad and are too often eye-blearingly angry?

dont frown

someone wants to care that youre you ?~~~you

In an unprecedented turn of events, I have the weekend off.  Although, my paycheck is going to be totally weak this period.  I won’t afford to be able to buy any of the shoes I’m looking at on ebay, not that it would matter, because all of them cost thirty dollars JUST to ship–from Taiwan.  aww shuXxX

I’m just bored, I guess.  Work is fine, you get used to all the people who suck who also grocery shop.  The world is more or less fine.  I watched a really irritating Wife Swap the other day, but it didn’t leave enough of an impression for me to synopsize here for any reason.  LOST is excellent.

I’ll probably dye my hair tonight.  “”"Honey Berry”"”, so like an auburn blonde.  Should turn out pretty qt.  The shade I dyed it last was something like, “”"____ Beeline”.  So, I guess I enjoy the color of honey.  I like my hair being red; I think it matches ‘me’ more than blonde does, even though I am blonde.  Redheads get more of a pass on being bitchy and fickle.  I can dig it.  RIGHT

This is strange:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raz-B

Chris Stokes is like some boy touching mafioso don i guess, i never heard of em til now

Apparently, Kel raps on the Good Burger soundtrack.  I want to hear it.  Stack it hibaliha’i

vlogs still craque me up

i want youtube to alert me everytime someone under 15 has an opinion, absentee parents, and a camera

can any one do this? ? ? ? ?? ? ?? ???
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KOgHhSBtOD4

when do i become underground rap
when do i clowny cLOWN WICKIT WICKIT JOKAZZRITECOMETAKESPINONCAHHHGYRIDE
SHAZAM, BLAM
send me five bucks , peinsahl

ps god suxXx he h8s kl0wnz n e wei

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6t1I-3oYx4E

the only god i worship is ayesha
or is she just a dream
a mystery
oh who is she
i call her name
across an endless plane
she’ll answer me-e-e-e-e

wherever she,

may be

BOOWWAAAWWWCHHHIKKKCAAAAABOWHOOHHH~~~

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_-NrEKjhqyM&feature=channel

trumance,
trumance

ugh now i have just gone ovadatop