It's hard to leave all these memories behind...

Today is the second day of talking to my old best friend Leticia all day on the phone. Yep! You heard me RIGHT! Fucking LETICIA!! (She's from South Frisco!) I still get fleeting glimpses of unreality, like I'm just waiting for someone to pinch me and tell me it's not true, that it's all just a dream. But it isn't. It really fucking isn't!

(here is my pretty little miss with her family o' four, aka the 4 gemini)



Life has been quite fucking amazing to live these past few days. I mean, sure, I still get my ups and downs as usual, but dear GOD, everything occurring in my life have been events that I would have NEVER dreamed I'd be a part of. And so many of the "simple" things in life? Have given me such an undescribable amount of joy to be a part of and witness. Simple things like reading "Somewhere Down the Diamond Back Road" or "Eye of the Storm" by Kelley, or knowing that "somebody" from Seattle, Washington comes to read my blog from time to time. There's also the fact that I've just finished reading Volume 6 in the Sandman series. (I feel like in another life or realm, Neil and I are kindred spirits. It's a sad and sick path us of the bi-polar fever traverse, but I truly feel this way in my heart, soul and mind while in dreamy manic-mode, reading Fables and Reflections. Neil's father just recently passed and my heart goes out to him. I can't even BEGIN to imagine the hurt and the pain. But if he can get through it he will be a newly forged blad in the fire, and he shall truly be set free. At least I hope so....

Other such fancies include my new love for Guacamole and us getting our tax check.

But the icing on the cake???

Was Date Night with Mysty!

We moved our Wednesday Date Night to Tuesday night instead for this week because her fiance Eric had a show to play Tuesday night and she REALLY wanted me to come see his band play.

I have got to say that I was TOTALLY unprepared for what took place before my eyes and ears and every other sense I had that night.

I had been anticipating a small venue, being told it was to be at the "Casa" behind The Emerson. Keep in mind The Emerson has been fashioned into a fucking old ass movie theater, and that is where I was usually accustomed to seeing bands play.

When Mysty parked her car behind a bank parking lot and got out, she led me to a HOUSE right BEHIND The Emerson, no bigger than Mr. Fucking Rogers humble abode. She then unlinks the screechy gate latch to the chain link fence that surrounds the property, and next thing you know Mysty's introducing me to fellow children of the grave.

I'm overwhelmed by social anxiety, grasping the plastic bottle of Pepsi Mysty had thoughtfully bought me earlier so hard I think it's going to spontaneously combust all over my bloody French maid outfit. But everyone is s'very kind, beautiful and friendly.

You enter through the back door of the house, descending the stairs to the basement, with the deep sound of bass reaching into your chest and manually pumping blood from your heart and forcing it to course through your veins. One last step before reaching the Land of Hades and you look up to see the words "All ye who enter abandon hope here" (or something delightfully wretched like that) etched upon stone, hovering above your forehead.

Once you get past the wanker that says, "That'll be 6 dollars please", you are entering a tiny realm of dystopian paradise, where screams are heard as sonnets sang to Angels of Decay, brutal riffs are like songs of serenade to the Gods of Norse and Thunder. The drummers eyes are closed tightly in trance, pumping out a decibal of tribunal hymn in reverence to the dreadful melody spewed forth from the vocalist's drooling mouth.

And you are all but 5 inches away from this beauty.

You come to momentarily, finding fellow grave dancers in their own tribunal accord, moving sporadically to the sounds that only death can make one dance.

The smell of man overpowers your senses til you can no longer recall what it's like to wear a skirt or have ovaries, and then in the heat of the moment you become one with the enemy, fusing blade and forging steele to reinvent a hammered weapon of chaos.

'The Devil and the Sea' take their sacrifice to the pyre, and the Deities reward them faithfully, for their riffs will be heard, admired, and scored for centuries.

Next up is Mysty's fiance's band. You realize that the same wanker that tried to collect the 6 dollars from you at the door is not only smelling a cupped handful of his own farts, but that he is also the vocalist of this next band called 'Tunguska'.

Firmly planted in front of all the action, I steady myself for the storm ahead.

Nothing prepares me for what is to come. I've no choice but to surrender myself to the torrent once again and let the destruction take me down in waves, pullling me deeper and deeper into the abyss of Nothingness til I no longer want to breathe.

The vocalist is in a crash dance wave of frenzy, hurling himself bodily into the bassist and audience alike. All this time Mysty takes pictures of the "man who's dick everyone wants to suck" as he pounds away on clanging brass and resounding cymbal as though/if life were EVER about anything else but this one fucking moment in time.



Then the music fades, the lights come on and you're outside smoking a cigarette, sharing the shelter of a black and white polka dotted umbrella with THEE MOST beautiful soul in the universe.



Later in the twilight of 'eve, after you wash the cover of night off of you, you awaken in mid slumber to find the scent of her flesh embedded within, and you realize that it was always ever about Mysty.

Homework Kills Trees!

Homework I hate you, you stink
Homework kills trees.
It must be stopped, it must be seized.

Most kids hate homework
When they cut down trees you'll hear crunches
If you go to a forest and hear a crunch,
it'll be a tree using crutches

Oh my gosh!
I can't believe my ears,
at school today my teacher said,
"No more homework for the year!"

An hour later,
I asked my teacher and said,
"Why is there no more homework?"
"Because too many trees are dead".

I can't believe it,
It's a dream come true!
I was very surprised.
My teacher said, "What's with that look?"
I said, "You'll probably see it in my eyes."

By,
The Cha-Chin-ator



(my youngest spawn, 9 yrs old, sankyouveryMUCH!)

The Shins - Kissing The Lipless

My song o' the day. This video, these lyrics, the flow, oh how it gives me such indescribable joy!

~"It's hard to leave all these moments behind".

More details

As promised, here is more of an "inside scoop" on my cousin and his journey to being a star. :D

He was one of my closest cousins. Aside from 2 of his sisters and another half breed cousin (like me!) he was the closest thing I had to a best friend for some parts of my life. We'd stay up all night when I spent the night at his house after his two younger sisters crashed for the night, digging through his mom and dad's old album collection, looking for old wicked beats to loop and put lyrics to.

He was always into dance. His whole family was. He was one of 6 children, him being the only "he" aside from his pops. Yep. 5 sisters! He was a middle child, came after 3 other daughters. I got along well mostly with him and the two hot asians that came after him. He, his 2 younger sisters and I would also stay up all night watching and quoting lines word for word from Grease 2. His parents had this amazing fucking collection of every movie known to mankind, and this was BEFORE the days of dvds and shit, y'know??

Each year I came over to visit (it was usually an annual thing because they lived 3 hours away from us back in Cali) he got better and more notorious for dancing. You could tell it was passion of his from WAY back when; whenever you came over their whole fucking house was PLASTERED with picture frames of him and his sisters in dance class with their latest costume, striking a pose for all to get "secretely jealous over but pretend you're happy for". The only one the whole "dance" thing seemed to stick to was Mike, or Mykal, as he prefers to be referred to.

Mike and I got along like most friends do. We argued alot and made fun of each other when we felt threatened or hurt. We shared hopes and dreams with one another, and secrets when we felt it safe enough to. He was one of the few guy friends I had that didn't overstep my boundaries in any way.

Years went by, my family and I moved to Indy, life went on. Next thing you know I'm hearing stories of Mike (Mykal) becoming a backup dancer for muzakal groups like Destiny's Child, (he's the one in orange with braids and a vest!) Rihanna, and Cassie (yes, that is HIM grabbing Cassie's hot ass and dancing with her, and YES he's on the fucking computer screen at the end of the video even earning a "Cassie styled heart container"!!) And then we're getting phone calls from his mom, her asking us to look out for the latest(keep in mind this was years ago, so they, of course, are no longer "the latest") Jennifer Lopez video (Oh how I love Hex Hector's remix, dig the 2:47-2;53 scene, that's him again!!) or episode of Saturday Night Live, cause he was going to be backup dancing for the muzakal guest in it. And sure enough, there he was, using his motherFRAKKING skillz to pay the billz yo. I was like HOLY SHIT! And then if that wasn't enough, he even managed to land a part in The Hot Chick with Rob Schneider (in which he is wearing a bandana and tersely grabs his nutsack.)

All this time all I can remember is us staying up late, having drawing competitions, and me thinking that he had to be the most sensitive and fun guy to hang around with, cause only a guy like him could appreciate Cyndi Lauper's muzak enough to draw me a picture that said "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun!" And they do!! And so we did, except he wasn't a girl. Just a simple man trying to make his way in the universe. :)

I finally got to see him face to face again a couple years back. He was on tour with Nelly Furtado as a back up dancer, and they were playing at the Murat, so he hooked up our whole family with free tickets and he got to take a shower in my luxurious 2 inch by 2 inch bathroom before the show, in which I warned him not to use the towels already hanging up on our shower rod because he would most likely be rubbing his face on my ass, and he giggled that old skool fucking giggle that I loved and lived to make him giggle.

I think he may have been shell shocked by my appearance. Things had changed so much since the last time I saw him. I went from being a rebellious, wishing I had an a.k. 47 strapped around my neck wearing, boxer shorts and pant-sagging gangsta bitch, to being a somewhat frumpy looking housewife who couldn't make up her mind if she was a faery or just darkness itself. So I think he may have been spending alot of time trying to analyze what the fuck happened to me. But it was all good though, cause we were still able to cut up and get along, just like we had years ago, and it was like a day had never passed between us since the last time we saw each other. One of the most flattering things he said to me the last time we saw each other face to face was that I was what made him want to pursue a muzakal career, cause we used to sit around and cut up with lyrics and what not back in the day. I even remember him asking me, "How do you come up with the words so easy?", and being flattered at his inquiry then as well.

So HECK YA I'm gonna brag that my cousin's in a movie. And I will be in the front fucking row when it comes out, nachos and jalepenos in one hand and artery clogging butter of the gods bucket o' popcorn in the other, cheering him on every step of the way, cause he's worked HARD to be where he is, and I am damn proud.

Boogie Town Trailer

See the gorgeous guy with the blue eyes that says, "I'll kill you"?? That's my COUSIN!! More details later. :)

Life, blog crushes, more introductions and wishing for wings of the Fae to sprout so I can go to the gas station with the quickness

Enh!

It's a lazy Saturday morning. The sky is gloomy as all get out and it's still cold. Boo. And Snookms is working today (another BOO) but I need to quit looking at it that way cause he hasn't had any work for the past 2 weeks. We've been living off our paycheck from 2 weeks ago, which we still have plenty of, but no bills are being paid. But we have finally filed our taxes and will be able to catch everything up when we get it. I was kinda hoping we'd have some leftover to shake around and have fun with, like you know, buy the remaining Sandman series I've yet to read, or blowing it all on a trip to the beach. Dear God! How I miss The Ocean! But s'okay, the bills will be paid. Hurrah!

Last night Snookms took us out to dinner @ the new El Rodeo in Avon that we discovered a few weeks back and the spawn really liked it. Everyone was in high spirits and it was already 10 o'clock at night! I love the asadero cheese and how amazingly friendly everyone is there. And in Avon!

When we got home I was challenged to a game of chess by The Jr., in which an Autobots vs. Decepticons platform was presented, and of course I got owned. Decepticons always do! After that we all jammied up and made Spongebob and fall leaf piles of comforters into makeshift beds on the floor and watched the newest eps. of Fantasy Factory, Scarred and Nitro Circus On Demand. I think so far Nitro Circus is my favoritest, but I really do like Fantasy Factory. Also watched College Humor with the kiddos, but it was kinda like walkin on eggshells the whole time what with the sexual inuendos and what not. They didn't even get most of them, but still? I couldn't help but giggle at the Facebook Off preview. "Who changed my favorite movie to High School Musical?" or something giggle status like that.

So now I like, have "blog crushes" on people and stuff. Not to be confused with "people crushes", where I want to skull fuck them or stay up late all night talking about Jesus and Southland Tales or even go for long walks on the beach with, cause I only have "people crushes" on Snookms, Mysty and my brothers. But these blog crushes are like, y'know, pretty bad ones? I mean, I have a lot of people on my blogroll, but whenever I see that these chosen few have a new post, I click with the quickness. One such character rants on and on about all the same things that I silently muse over and dream of in my own mind, and it's rather hard to find people in real life that like Silent Hill, Carnivale, and sometimes wish Superman was a God, even though they know deep down that he tries hard not to be. So that one's numero uno on my list. Another such are rather a duo of entities, yet they are separate, kind of like the yin-yang. And then there's one that posts scatteredly, but I adore her work as well. These are people I could either: a.) sit and drink heated beverages with all night using telepathic communion to express our obsession with Raistlin over, or b.) sit a few chairs down, using my telepathic abilities to tap into their fortress of ability and make them come sit closer to share our love of such exotic things. I opt for package A simply because I don't have to make them sit next to me, on most occasions that means that they actually like me enough so that I don't have to make them sit next to me.

So I'm working on a graphic novel-ished type of deal right now (on top of 2 other top secret projects!) It didn't start out in that graphic novel sort of way, but I was re-reading what I'd written, and really getting the imagery in my head of what it was actually like to be surfing Skyline Blvd. @ 3:00 in the a.m. when you're only 16 years old, with nothing more than your wits about you and a 40 ounce of Olde English in one hand and a blunt in the other. I kept gettting flashbacks of traipsing about on the Pier, smelling the saltsea oceans beyond Fisherman's Wharf in harmonious glee, my White Sox trenchcoat billowing in the wind behind me. You just have to share visions like that with the world in both words and pictures!

And I came up with the perfect title, cause I had fallen asleep one evening while writing in my special notebook all about it and had awoken to a documentary of The Who blaring on my t.v., and they were showing the making of Teenage Wasteland. And I thought, what better way to showcase what the fuck "all of that" was about back in the day, right? Our youthful adolescence is but a realm, a personal realm all to ourselves, and nobody gives it a second thought, yet as a young adult, you look back and tend to think, "What a fucking waste!", but it just ain't like that, y'know? You sort of have to tell yourself that though so you can look at yourself in the mirror again the next day, or be able to look the others in the eye when you speak to them without faltering. But again, it's all about the embracement for me. I must own every inch of myself, whether I've made parts of myself into different states or not. Ever see The United States of Leland?

Also, I've forgotten all ABOUT my introductions thingy via Ozymandias, but it has come to such a standstill that it made me almost completely forget about introducing as many of the cool people on board there as I can. And just for the record? I would share these people with the world whether Ozymandias was in existence or no, cause the universe is so full of beauty that life is too short to have a reason to want to share it with others.

So I give you Adam Lowe!! He is currently working on his release of Trogdolyte Rose, and I have been crushing on this site head over heels style, because I just love the whole "cyberpunk" feel to it. I don't know if Adam's "genred" it off that way or not, but I totally dig on it and I promise, if any of you readers of my "twaddle" (as Merry so elegantly puts it!) and are into the twaddle I babble about, you will totally be in to Trog Rose!! Be sure to click around everywhere and anywhere!! It's an adventure!! So what're you waiting for?? Go!!

Well now, I must sprout Faery wings and fly to Speedway Gas Station to get milks for the spawn. Damn how I curse myself when I forget to make these kinds of purchases the night before. Curse be to the gods instead!!!

Bjork - All is Full of Love

It's what I need to feel today. This song is Mysty as a melody. It's Ammonite in my dreams. Love me!!!!!

On knowing Esseker

Sorry. I know the picture's creepy, but knowing Esseker is creepy business!

There was a year in which I absolutely avoided looking at my own reflection. This is harder than you think it would be to have success in, because one takes for granted all the "mirrors" in life that we happen to walk past and subconciously glance over to see our reflection in. Windows, doorknobs, clear plastic, anything shiny metal or glass. But yet it's there, our reflection, staring right back at us.

I was in a place in my life where I despised myself so much that I could not bear to look in the mirror and see who was reflected back at me. More and more it became someone whom I began to loathe with a passion, and over time I was looking at someone that I no longer knew or could identify with. I became frightened of myself, and let me tell you, there is no worse fear than to be afraid of one's self.

In the movie Mirrors, reflections in mirrors portray demonic entities hellbent on taking possession of one's soul. Of course, the story doesn't start out leading you to this notion, but in the end that's what it takes you to. This movie wasn't spectacular or anything. It wasn't chock full of great acting and wonderful script. The biggest reason I even watched it was because my dad kept going on and on about how disturbing it was. And I could see how he thought so, many of the things that he finds disturbing I do as well. It takes a lot for us to flinch, so I can usually take his word for it when he says something has the potential to wreak such "havoc".

But when I was done watching the movie, I couldn't help but focus my attention on the character of Ana Esseker. She was the entity that the mirrors sought out. There was a bit of a backround story on her as a young child, how she had been possessed with a demon, and was eventually admitted to a psychiatric ward where she was later deemed not so much possessed as she was schizophrenic. The doctor in charge of Esseker's care saw it fit to place this young child in a straightjacket, tied down to a chair in the middle of the room, full of mirrors at your every. This of course, was one of those "confront your own worst fears" typed approach, and all that it resulted in was that the "demons" fled into these said mirrors, taking instead, possession of them.

Again, I can't exactly put my finger on it, but something about this movie lacked for me. I don't know if it had to do with the acting, script, or just the fact that I've been spoiled by books with great plots and story lines lately. But I just couldn't help fixating on this Esseker character. Later on in the movie she was directed to live in a convent, where it was explained that there were never ever going to be any "mirrors" for her to be afraid of again. I won't spoil the ending for those that haven't seen it, but what takes place kind of made me think about my own experience in relation to mirrors, self reflection and my obsession with the possibility of demon possession.

I believe that most of the obsession lie in the motive. I constantly find myself asking, "what exactly motivates a 'demon'"? What makes a demon a 'demon' in the first place? There are hardly ever any materials out there that address this sensitive subject that I know of. Most are only personal accounts and experiences with what it was like for those that had to prey witness to such an ordeal. Erica had even mentioned a few posts back about this particular subject, and how many of us are simply terrified to even "go there".

Which leads me back to my own experience with self reflection, and how I was ultimately driven to such a place of terror in having to look at my own self in the mirror. It wasn't so much that I was afraid to look at myself physically, inasmuch as it was that I was afraid of what I had become. I could pretend all along in my own head, bullshitting myself with what I knew was not the truth, fabricating pictures of a pretty, happily married 24 year old (that's how old I was at the time) with three beautiful children. When I looked upon my reflection, my eyes saw otherwise. There is a song called "Black Mirror" that Arcade Fire does that speaks of this. It's as if you are seeing the carnaged soul of a child, blackened and burned by the fires and hurts of our lives. My "child-like" eyes were seeing things it would never forget. And that little child that stared back at me in the mirror, stripped of her flesh, was crying out, "Why? Why have you forsaken me?" I went on for so long in my life not being able to cater to this part of myself, and had used this youngling's right to exist as a dumping grounds for all the bad things that had occurred in my life, never taking the time to clean up. It had become a wasteland of self loathing, unforgiveness and hurts that had never had a chance to heal over, infected and bleeding wounds filled with the puss and venom of unforgiveness.

In the book "Getting Through the Day" by Nancy J. Napier, it addresses this subject. And it does it in such a kind and gentle way, that one does not even realize at first that this is what is being approached. And it honors that we, as a humanity, all have valid hurts that could use some healing over. For every chapter, there is even a special revision of the chapter targeted towards those suffering with multi-personality disorder. In this book, I learned so much about the origin of my own "demons" and why I couldn't stand the sight of my reflection for so long. It teaches you to take time for the triggers in one's life that take us back to those moments of child-like awareness, and to live through them as an adult, someone "wise" and "safe" enough to take time to be there the way no one else would have been able to for one's self. And that component, for me, has been one of the most useful tools I've ever had the opportunity of using in regards to healing;

~I could be there for myself. I didn't have to wait for someone else to be there for me~

Later in the book, it brings up the term "shadowboxing". For those of you unfamiliar with the term, it basically means fighting with that part of yourself that you have never had the ability to accept. The saying "familiarity breeds contempt" speaks so profoundly to me in regards to this. When you see a person "over-reacting" to a situation and acting almost as a child in a throw of rage or irrationability, the book says that many times these people are shadowboxing with a part of themselves that they have yet to accept. I have found it apalling to realize how true this was about my OWN self! I had gone my whole life never accepting that I was a child who had needs. I went for so long not even being able to accept that I was a girl, a woman, and that that girl and woman had needs as well. I shoved away my desire to go hurl up in a ball and whimper like a child. I spat upon femininity as if it were a disease.

And in this, I believe, I found the motive of a 'demon'.

I have this strange theory, that if indeed there is a God/Gods, and in that, the existence of the Devil/demonic entities, that the Devil/demonic entities may possibly be the result of God's/the God's shadowboxing. In many belief it describes a God/Gods that are perfect and without flaw. And if this is to be true, I believe that those God/Gods have only been able to gain that status of perfection by embracing flaw, instead of treating it as though it were a thorn in one's side. And what better candidate to campaign this notion than humanity itself? If we could live in a world where we no longer looked at each other as "wrong" or "right", but as entities, vessels of love and care, that have not the desire to judge one another because of our differences, but to love and embrace one another so fully that we become as one, yet free to be an individual, that, to me, would be heaven.

I believe it's volume number 2 in the Sandman series that Neil Gaiman portrays the realm of hell so eloquently. In Doll's House (I think it was Doll's House?) Dream has to venture to hell and speak to Lucifer, the morning star, the "fallen angel" about an artifact gone missing from Dream's possession that he is in dire need of. In this journey, Neil allows the thoughts of the inhabitants of hell to be spoken aloud. One such demon desires to torture itself endlessly, denying itself forgiveness, and in that, had made a hell for itself.

To me, hell is denial. Not having the ability to accept. If the Gods/God could not accept the Devil/demonic entities not being able to accept, there you have God's/the Gods personal hell. And in it, quite possibly is a place where others dwell when they cannot accept things for the way they are. Not because there is some omnipotent entity out there saying things like, "Hey. You. You don't belong here. Get the fuck out of here and go over there."

It is not about sin inasmuch as it is about learning to love and embrace unconditionally. And if you think about it long and hard enough, how can we learn to love and embrace one another unconditionally, if we are unable to do this for our own selves first?

Again, all this is just theory. Food for thought. I've wanted to write a novel about this subject, and make it the core of the story, for so long. What seems like an eternity. But I can't expect myself to accomplish this when I keep throwing my own personal "Esseker" in the basement, chained down, whilst it cries out "I'll swallow your soul!"

Numb U2

My song o' the day. Even though I'm quite the opposite for today. :)

An actual post!

Okay. So for ME, it has been way too long for a blog post. I have 2 posts that I put up on my blog at asssuck, oops I mean myspace, but I've not the balls to post one of them here yet. I'm such a sentimental wuss. I wrote it in a retrospective sort of voice, like thinking in the same miserable train of thought process that I still tend to occassionally get caught up in today. I wanted to "exorcise" the demon, so to speak, so I wrote all about it, y'know? But maybe another time, eh?

Yesterday, when I got ready to get in my car to pick up my spawn from Spawn academy, I was PLEASANTLY surprised by the UPS truck. The deliverer of goods had my copy of Kelley Eskridge's "Dangerous Space" ready to hand over to me, and I was FILLED to overflowing with joy. I had not expected to receive it so soon, Kelley had sent me an email stating that it may be a week until I got it. She had offered to give a copy of Dangerous Space to the first two who left a comment on her blog saying that they wanted it, and it's so fucking funny actually, because, I almost didn't do it because I saw that there were already 2 comments on her blog, and I was crushed. But the rebel in me yelled, oh boy howdy. She/he/it said, "Go back there and see who won!!" So I did, and was delighted to see that the second comment was from Kelley, only responding to the first comment. So needless to say, I jumped on that bandwagon like Meriadoc Brandywine and Peregrin Took to Gandalf the Grey's wagon o' whimsical fireworks.

There are a series of short stories in Dangerous Space, including of course, Dangerous Space itself. I haven't finished reading it, I'm taking my sweet and luxurious time on this baby, like I did with Nicola's Ammonite, so's I can let it linger upon my person, like a fancy 1,000 dollar wine I've never drank. Strings had me crying like a baby. Kelley's writing is pure emotion, in it's rawest form. Her ability to explain the feelings of alienation that she experiences are almost too much to bear. I couldn't help but feel the need to put the book down and take lots of deep breaths, and cry a bit too, y'know? I don't know how 2 awesome entities of being manage to share one roof together. If ever they were to deepsearch one another, the soestre born of that would be the essence of sunshine and unicorns and all things glittery. With a huge can of ass whoop.

And to add to this pleasantry, I know who is the "book-loving generous soul" behind the curtain, and was deeply touched and moved at the kind message left with the Amazon receipt.

It reads:

Hi, Rachel. I hope you enjoy these stories. They are very close to my heart and it makes me feel lucky that Kelley wrote them, and happy to be able to share them with the world.

I have yet to thank this wonderful entity personally. But I too, am thankful that they are being shared with me as well! And I'm thankful for people like YOU, if you are reading it "you know who!"

Other such news, I'm out from my imprisonment of revisions temporarily. I've decided to rework one of my works, and it's all about the esp flow again, cause Erica was just talking about taking your shit to the sacrificial gods of the pyre and doing it all over again. Thousands of words like the dust that we all are in the wind, yo. It fucking blows, but I somehow feel reinvented. Like I've been newly forged in the fire, my blade's all sharp again, right? For now....I anticipate the moment I become dull again, don't all of you, kinfolk????

I need to take my St. John's Wort and Omega 3's, but it can wait til I'm done here, I s'pose. Snookms bought a pull up bar on Friday, and my forearms hurt like a motherFRAK! I can't barely pull my head out of my ass, much less my head over the bar. I suck! But I will continue to try. I used to have upper body strength like MAD, back when I weighed 100 fraggin pounds, but now I've got all this girth to shift around! Stupid pull up bar!

What else, what ELSE!! Mom is in Tennessee, singing her audition. Wish her well in your thoughts, prayers or whatever else you wish well with, would ya? I'm so excited for her that I had a dream that I auditioned for American Idol this morning. I forgot my sheetwork (why in the fuck I needed "sheetwork" is beyond me) and Simon wanted to tie a sock round my neck. The whole time he kept judging me, I kept arguing back, "Who is HE to judge, oh ye of bad haircuts?" And then I'd say "What WERE you thinking?" with that sort of white gloved "tsk-tsk-tsk" kind of heir that Tiner Beaners so elegantly describes in regard to Katie taking steak over seafood kind of way. So I won. The battle of witts, not the the sing-a-song thang. I don't watch American Idol though, even though I always secretly want to. Simon's haircut makes me giggle in the same way the word "sammich" and "horK" do.

So like, if I post sporadically or very strangely and vaguely, it's because of revisions, and because I'm working several dare I say it? "WIPS". I'm trying to bury my head in this shit so it won't keep me up all night, calling my name so that I can't get any sleep. It takes me away from seeing spiders in my slumber-like awareness. What does it mean if one sees spiders in one's sleep anyhow? Is it bad? Good? Nothingness, like the Nothing of Neverending Story? They look like good strong hands, don't they?

Also, one last thing. I know Esseker! I watched Mirrors on Thursday, and oh boy howdy do I know her. More all about it later on down the line (maybe?)

The Sword!!

Listen to the crash in this song. Badassedness x a thousand.

"I got pinworms in my butt."

When I was little, like LITTLE little? I used to play in this dirt hill we had back in Washington in our back yard. I would to find the most awesomest bugs while digging back there. Once Ieven found this green/silvery looking caterpillar, and a HUGE tomatoe bug that smelled like bacon. Almost ate it too.

My grandma was staying with us at the time. I loved the thought of knowing that she was only feet away, chatting with my mom in our kitchen. She had the most beautiful blonde hair that a grandma could ever have, and a nice grandma ass. She used to take me on walks and let me pick up dead things on the sidewalk that my mom would never even DREAM of letting me touch. She picked fruit from trees growing in the neighbor's yards and cut the worms out of these said fruits with this nifty paring knife that she just happened to carry around on her person at all times. I loved how she always wore this "jean dress" ensemble, and smelled like oatmeal and Mary K products. She had a southern accent, something I wasn't accustomed to, so that only added to her illustrious charm.

There were a lot of horrendous things going on in my childhood back in the "Seattle days". Things that my five year old mind just could not fathom at the time. Things I am dealing with now in therapy, 25 years later. She took me away from those things. She took me to a place inside of myself that was so hard to reach. She opened up my tastes for nature and wanting to become independent. Little did I know she was going through her own struggles in life during those times of our bonding. She was on the run from an abusive relationship, but when your a kid, you just don't comprehend things like that. It wasn't till much later in life that my mom confided in me the "details" of our former life, details describing why my grandma stayed there with us for so long. Funny, but I can remember thinking to myself, in my own little private realm of child-like realizations, that she was an angel sent to take me away from my 5 year old hell.

Kids always complain of itching, here or there or everywhere. They have no reservations about complaining JUST WHERE those itches are either. So when I came in from the backyard, just a little kid, mind you, complaining of my butt itching, my grandma turns to me and asks, "Have you been diggin' in that dirt pile again honey?"

To which I reply nonchalantly, "Yep!"

She asks if my butt has been sitting on top of the dirt pile too, and of course I say "Yes". What other way could there be to dig in the dirt for Christ's sake?

She then explains to me that "pinworms" have magically traveled up through my pants/underwear, and traveled far and wide into my butthole, therefore making my butt itch.

(Nevermind the fact that she is secretly giggling and sneering to my mom when I'm not looking.)

I stand there, dumbfounded, for I think my grandmother the patriarch of science and all things natural occurring.

~She has diagnosed my itchy butt prognosis~

So that now, and forevermore, when my butt doeth itch, I will always remember my grandma, and proudly proclaim to anyone within hearing range,

"Hey everyone. I got pinworms in my butt".

Good schtuff/Bad schtuff!!

The Good Schtuff:

• New episode of Big Bang Theory tonight
• The fantabulous Sunday afternoon sex that Schnooky-wookie and I had
• Snookms haircut making him look like a little boy
• I finished reading Ammonite today (although, I'm a bit sad too, cause I loved it so fucking much. What can I say? Marghe and Thenike rock my world yo.)
• I had Taco Bell for dinner
• I didn't have to cook dinner
• My soda tastes really lurvely
• Mysty is happy now
• Mysty is "Unger-iffickly" happy now, which, to me, is the BEST kind of Mysty happy you can possibly get
• My momma is an infinite rock star
• Sarah Laurensen says she loves muh blog posts
• I hacked the Green Eyed Douch(e)bag's Myspace account, forcing him to proclaim his undeniable love for me via Myspace Moods & Updates. I even added flavor to the moment by indicating his absolute hatred for Cupid. Woot for me, Douch(e)bag: pwned
• I took a shower
• I can beat most Guitar Hero songs on Hard or Expert
• My herbal supplements are not child safetied, so I can make my spawn get me my sanity keepers when I forget to take them, like, for instance, right now....
• Going to see (possibly) Drop Kick Murphys and Civet (most definately!) with Mysty Wednesday!!!!!
• The spawn don't have homework all week cause of I-STEP

The Bad Schtuff

• Snookms will probably be all cranky & shit when he gets home from taking the Jr. to Speech Therapy @ Riley, cause we can't really afford Taco Bell
• My kids have me hopelessly addicted to Mtv2's Nitro Circus, Scarred, and Fantasy Factory
• The Green Eyed Douch(e)bag is plotting his revenge, so I am afraid at every corner
• I have nothing fun left to read, except my own angsty bullshit
• I-STEP all week for the spawn = headaches for all
• I don't have any toilet paper to wipe my ass, & I fucking forgot to buy some when I went out to get Taco Bell
• Napkins hurt, but not as much as corn cobs I s'pose
• Kathulhu hasn't posted a blog in five days
• I found 2 grey hairs on my head last week
• I got metaphorical pinworms in muh butt. Blog post later all about it. (it's actually an oldie, but a "goodie")
• I have nothing self important left to say, which sucks, because I'm really enjoying the hell outta using this bulletpoint font.

Per *his* request

Current mood:satanic

The illustrious Green Eyed Douch(e)bag has taken it upon himself to make me feel wanted in the Ass-Suck Universe that is myspace.

To quote:

"O.k. What is the fucking deal with no recent blogs.Let me guess! You have been busy. Whatever! I subscribed to your moms blog this morning just so I can get my blog fix for the day. You must post a blog today regardless of how boring or uneventful I may find it. I cant go much longer without saying something mean to you. Please help me here. I really need a fix now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"



Signed,

The Douche bag

So thanks green eyes. I needed that push. I actually HAVE been posting blogs, but I've just been keeping them on my this blog, cause I thought for sure no one gave a shit anymore in Myspaceland. But I digress!! Green Eyes needs a reason to insult me, and I, being the attention whore that I am, can not let him down.