I don't think words are necessary. WTF? Why is she SCREAMING??!! Why are they screaming for Vaseline??!!!
Monday, May 26, 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Thorn in My Side
It seems that I have learned everything but learning to take my own advice.
And patience. I still have none.
It seems for some reason when a woman passes me by that is as lovely and striking as you, I loose all control. I can't wait. I can't seem to see past the image of her immediate and potential beauty to really see, if the day after tomorrow she will be consistent with me. Really appreciate me for being me; full of love and such insecurity about being set free.
I listen to the way she express herself, the way she takes in the reckless words that she inspire me to say. I just can't hold them in.
She says: "Hang on. All this that I like, it is too much. This is too real, this is not the right time. I don't have time. God you are unlike anyone I have met before. You are so pure and true. I think I could find myself falling for you."
I always have time for her. I'm down on my knees, take me there.
I am a golden feather in the wind. Watch me fly through the magnetic waves of clouds, high above the coolness of the rain and into the eternal sunshine of inspiration.
I often get jammed in between the tips of her fingers. I know I must be able to float, for love is life and life is free. So why do I allow her to hold on to me if it is not at all benefiting me? Perhaps I should be more selective about whether I should let her catch me, or even feel the heat of me against her tender skin.
Me: "I fantasize about caressing her with the yearning of my hungry mind. Body to body. Sigh to sigh."
I have never made her work for me, the way in which I was willing to work for her. If I could just get over this hump I would most certainly see, that I am worthy of being the subject of her pure affection. I deserve more than just momentary attention.
I am the power behind her movements on the floor, the energy that moves the pick to strike her guitar. The protection of clothes that cover her back.
But it seems that lonely just won't leave me alone.
Some days I wonder why I have to be cursed to love her as much as I do. I just can't seem to help myself. She is everywhere I have, am and will be.
And patience. I still have none.
It seems for some reason when a woman passes me by that is as lovely and striking as you, I loose all control. I can't wait. I can't seem to see past the image of her immediate and potential beauty to really see, if the day after tomorrow she will be consistent with me. Really appreciate me for being me; full of love and such insecurity about being set free.
I listen to the way she express herself, the way she takes in the reckless words that she inspire me to say. I just can't hold them in.
She says: "Hang on. All this that I like, it is too much. This is too real, this is not the right time. I don't have time. God you are unlike anyone I have met before. You are so pure and true. I think I could find myself falling for you."
I always have time for her. I'm down on my knees, take me there.
I am a golden feather in the wind. Watch me fly through the magnetic waves of clouds, high above the coolness of the rain and into the eternal sunshine of inspiration.
I often get jammed in between the tips of her fingers. I know I must be able to float, for love is life and life is free. So why do I allow her to hold on to me if it is not at all benefiting me? Perhaps I should be more selective about whether I should let her catch me, or even feel the heat of me against her tender skin.
Me: "I fantasize about caressing her with the yearning of my hungry mind. Body to body. Sigh to sigh."
I have never made her work for me, the way in which I was willing to work for her. If I could just get over this hump I would most certainly see, that I am worthy of being the subject of her pure affection. I deserve more than just momentary attention.
I am the power behind her movements on the floor, the energy that moves the pick to strike her guitar. The protection of clothes that cover her back.
But it seems that lonely just won't leave me alone.
Some days I wonder why I have to be cursed to love her as much as I do. I just can't seem to help myself. She is everywhere I have, am and will be.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
"Tipping The Velvet" Spoof - "Tipping o the Telveteen"
This is really done so bloody well! For anyone who has seen the film based on the Sarah Waters novel, this is a fantastic, madly amusing and creative rendition of some of the themes and memorable moments.
Gotta love the Brit Com!!
It is worth checking out the actual BBC interpretations of Sarah Waters works in mini-series form. Both "Tipping the Velvet" (2002) and "Fingersmith" (2005)are entertaining and highly aesthetic adaptations of Water's delicious novels. Juicy, intelligent, atmospheric-gender-bending-fucking, pearly period pieces that will get your pussy purring!
Down girls!
Tipping the Velvet, Part 1-1
Fingermith, Part 1-1
Gotta love the Brit Com!!
It is worth checking out the actual BBC interpretations of Sarah Waters works in mini-series form. Both "Tipping the Velvet" (2002) and "Fingersmith" (2005)are entertaining and highly aesthetic adaptations of Water's delicious novels. Juicy, intelligent, atmospheric-gender-bending-fucking, pearly period pieces that will get your pussy purring!
Down girls!
Tipping the Velvet, Part 1-1
Fingermith, Part 1-1
Look Into My Eyes...
I have never been afraid to look someone in the eyes.
In fact I think that it is a sign of intelligence and respect when you peer into someone’s eyes when they converse with you. They say that the eyes are the window to the soul; I agree totally. I think that the eyes are capable of revealing more than you perhaps wanted to share. Emotions, judgments, innocence, nuances, knowledge and core energy of what it is that inhibits you and pushes you.
I have always been fascinated by the variations that I find in the ability for humans to interact with one-another--it's in your eyes. Some are coy and aggressive and look at you in your eyes as to say, “I am listening and what is it that you have to say?” Some are passive and timid and look to the side, or can not hold long eye contact. They look slightly intrigued and perhaps tantalized by your presence and the formulation of your thoughts. Then there are those who can not look at you in the eyes at all. These are the insincere, self-absorbed and hubristic. They feel as though they know everything and have no desire to learn anything more than what is familiar.
I always look at someone when spoken to. Though I may not necessarily be fascinated by what it is that someone has to say, I will at least listen to what it is that you have to tell me. In your eyes.
Monday, May 19, 2008
BiG BaNg TheOry
She sits and listens to the firecrackers bursting in the background.
It reminds her of the pulsing beat of her brain when it feels overexerted, under too much strain.
I sparkle of energy falls from the leaky faucet of her eye.
She is so lovely when she imagines the emotions of touching you.
She is like a fallen angel from the sky who gracefully descends and lands with no stutter at all.
Children's laughter echo in the stir of a silent, residual sound.
All seems so alive that it can't be real to move.
Slowly, dimming. Dizzy from the motion of having to keep up.
The Ferris wheel turns and the motion of her stomach churns as if she were on the ride.
She is unlike anyone you have met before.
Stop talking to me I am listening to my head phones.
You could always see the fire in her brown eyes.
Such passion that surfaced to the words that fell from her delicate, soft mouth.
Her mother was kind, her father was different.
Her sister was strong, her brother was free.
She was reminded of the firecrackers that burst out loud when she was small and she had jumped in fear of the BANG!
She was always a little jumpy when it came to noise.
Now it seems that though on this night, firecrackers are brought out to specially ignite, but within her belly there is consistently a possibility of colour, bursting into a variety of fruitful colours with such pure, demonic delight!
Everywhere.
Wild.
Painted streams of colour, shattering the gravity of tangible into the realm of metaphysical.
Sex.
Pass me a light.
Kiss her goodnight.
It reminds her of the pulsing beat of her brain when it feels overexerted, under too much strain.
I sparkle of energy falls from the leaky faucet of her eye.
She is so lovely when she imagines the emotions of touching you.
She is like a fallen angel from the sky who gracefully descends and lands with no stutter at all.
Children's laughter echo in the stir of a silent, residual sound.
All seems so alive that it can't be real to move.
Slowly, dimming. Dizzy from the motion of having to keep up.
The Ferris wheel turns and the motion of her stomach churns as if she were on the ride.
She is unlike anyone you have met before.
Stop talking to me I am listening to my head phones.
You could always see the fire in her brown eyes.
Such passion that surfaced to the words that fell from her delicate, soft mouth.
Her mother was kind, her father was different.
Her sister was strong, her brother was free.
She was reminded of the firecrackers that burst out loud when she was small and she had jumped in fear of the BANG!
She was always a little jumpy when it came to noise.
Now it seems that though on this night, firecrackers are brought out to specially ignite, but within her belly there is consistently a possibility of colour, bursting into a variety of fruitful colours with such pure, demonic delight!
Everywhere.
Wild.
Painted streams of colour, shattering the gravity of tangible into the realm of metaphysical.
Sex.
Pass me a light.
Kiss her goodnight.
History Bite: Savonarola
Girolamo Savonarola by Fra Bartolomeo, c. 1498.
Girolamo Savonarola was born in Ferrara and was a fanatical Dominican priest during the Italian Renaissance (b.1452-d.1498). Though he traveled throughout Italy in his life to various monasteries, he would find his strongest voice and audience in Florence. It is here that he would become a central figure in shocking the thoughts, art and practice of humanism and secularism that were central to Renaissance Movement. Naturally Florence was the place to begin his attack, as it was the heart of the Italian Renaissance.
Savanoarola remained a devout Roman Catholic his entire life and through his travels and observations, he reacted in writing and word at the corruption of the people. His ideas came from the theology he had intensely studied for years, combined with his belief that his Italy needed to be saved immediately before reaching the point of no return. War was rampant, the country seemed more divided in culture and politics then ever before, the Church seemed to care more about adornment from foreign riches then the people dying on the streets.
Savonarola's belief that it was God’s bearing judgment of disappointment and abandonment that had driven his will to have disease, poverty, adultery, greed and moral indignation bestowed upon his subjects. Savonarola’s words against the “self-indulgent” lifestyle of the rich few gained rage with the lower castes of society; those who seemed more or less to desperately seek some breath of connection in his deliverance's and promises of eternal salvation. The city was in shambles compared to once before. The people sought a leader and Savonarola sought to ignite a religious revolution (or a religious renaissance). In his own way, similar to il rinasimento, Savonarola believed in re-birth.
He rapidly gained momentum through his powerful sermons, chanting them at every opportunity given in town piazzas, or in front of any crowd that would grant the Dominican priest the opportunity to speak. His voice spread quickly, much like the plague(which had just killed nearly 2/3 of the European population). His teachings edged on mass hysteria in the people. He assured his listeners that they were being diseased and neglected by God’s will because of carnal sin (courtesans were rampant icons, and sex amongst the European monarchs and even clergymen was not a distant reality, there was an art to courtship). He began to preach passionately about the Last Days, accompanied by visions and prophetic announcements of direct communications with God and the saints.
Such fiery preachings were not uncommon at the time, but Savonarola’s apocalyptic message was pivotal in severing the tradition of hundreds of years of Florentine rulership under the Medici family (the supreme ruling oligarchic family of Florence). He condemned the Medici as rulers and assured the people to see that they wished to have their personal name glorified, they did not have the good intention of the people at heart. His sermons helped in weakening the Medici grip of power in the French-Italian wars abroad and the respect of the Florentines within the city gates.
Through Savonoarols’s eyes, Florence was no longer as glorious as it once was. In fact to him the Renaissance was a hindrance to ideals of purity and spirituality. He believed that welcoming Renaissance thought and art and artifacts was an automatic reason to have your name placed upon a Christian indulgence list. Penance from the people was necessary to receive God's forgiveness.
In 1497 Savonarola initiated his vision through sparking the Bonfire of Vanities (1497) in the Piazza della Signoria. The concept behind this madness was to burn anything that was deemed to be an occasion of sin; literature, art, letters, cosmetics, mirrors, anything that made us less obedient to the word of God and increased our vanity fair.
Painting of Savonarola's execution in the Piazza della Signoria
Upon this action Savonarola was ex-communicated by Pope Alexander VI (who was in fact a Medici Pope), alongside his followers and religious supporters. They were heavily tortured at the hands of the Church and in 1498, in the Piazza della Signoria he was stripped of his religious garbs and burned slowly at the stake. Ironically the place where he had begun the Bonfire of Vanities became the place where his vessel would also eternally burn.
Savanarola’s devotion towards a simpler, more refined lifestyle would set firm ground for Martin Luther and Protestant movements that would change the face of Christendom forever.
Girolamo Savonarola was born in Ferrara and was a fanatical Dominican priest during the Italian Renaissance (b.1452-d.1498). Though he traveled throughout Italy in his life to various monasteries, he would find his strongest voice and audience in Florence. It is here that he would become a central figure in shocking the thoughts, art and practice of humanism and secularism that were central to Renaissance Movement. Naturally Florence was the place to begin his attack, as it was the heart of the Italian Renaissance.
Savanoarola remained a devout Roman Catholic his entire life and through his travels and observations, he reacted in writing and word at the corruption of the people. His ideas came from the theology he had intensely studied for years, combined with his belief that his Italy needed to be saved immediately before reaching the point of no return. War was rampant, the country seemed more divided in culture and politics then ever before, the Church seemed to care more about adornment from foreign riches then the people dying on the streets.
Savonarola's belief that it was God’s bearing judgment of disappointment and abandonment that had driven his will to have disease, poverty, adultery, greed and moral indignation bestowed upon his subjects. Savonarola’s words against the “self-indulgent” lifestyle of the rich few gained rage with the lower castes of society; those who seemed more or less to desperately seek some breath of connection in his deliverance's and promises of eternal salvation. The city was in shambles compared to once before. The people sought a leader and Savonarola sought to ignite a religious revolution (or a religious renaissance). In his own way, similar to il rinasimento, Savonarola believed in re-birth.
He rapidly gained momentum through his powerful sermons, chanting them at every opportunity given in town piazzas, or in front of any crowd that would grant the Dominican priest the opportunity to speak. His voice spread quickly, much like the plague(which had just killed nearly 2/3 of the European population). His teachings edged on mass hysteria in the people. He assured his listeners that they were being diseased and neglected by God’s will because of carnal sin (courtesans were rampant icons, and sex amongst the European monarchs and even clergymen was not a distant reality, there was an art to courtship). He began to preach passionately about the Last Days, accompanied by visions and prophetic announcements of direct communications with God and the saints.
Such fiery preachings were not uncommon at the time, but Savonarola’s apocalyptic message was pivotal in severing the tradition of hundreds of years of Florentine rulership under the Medici family (the supreme ruling oligarchic family of Florence). He condemned the Medici as rulers and assured the people to see that they wished to have their personal name glorified, they did not have the good intention of the people at heart. His sermons helped in weakening the Medici grip of power in the French-Italian wars abroad and the respect of the Florentines within the city gates.
Through Savonoarols’s eyes, Florence was no longer as glorious as it once was. In fact to him the Renaissance was a hindrance to ideals of purity and spirituality. He believed that welcoming Renaissance thought and art and artifacts was an automatic reason to have your name placed upon a Christian indulgence list. Penance from the people was necessary to receive God's forgiveness.
In 1497 Savonarola initiated his vision through sparking the Bonfire of Vanities (1497) in the Piazza della Signoria. The concept behind this madness was to burn anything that was deemed to be an occasion of sin; literature, art, letters, cosmetics, mirrors, anything that made us less obedient to the word of God and increased our vanity fair.
Painting of Savonarola's execution in the Piazza della Signoria
Upon this action Savonarola was ex-communicated by Pope Alexander VI (who was in fact a Medici Pope), alongside his followers and religious supporters. They were heavily tortured at the hands of the Church and in 1498, in the Piazza della Signoria he was stripped of his religious garbs and burned slowly at the stake. Ironically the place where he had begun the Bonfire of Vanities became the place where his vessel would also eternally burn.
Savanarola’s devotion towards a simpler, more refined lifestyle would set firm ground for Martin Luther and Protestant movements that would change the face of Christendom forever.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
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