Month: July 2004

Filk Night at Silver Sea…

Prompts a series of bad quaotational puns aka “filk filk.”

Such as the following:

“Why can’t I get just one filk, why can’t I get just one filk, guess it’s got something to do with luck…”

“Why don’t you take a flying filk at a rolling donut? Why don’t you just take a flying filk at the mooooon?”

Till then,

I’ve a lovely Cthulhu Beatles parody up my sleeve for later and a bag of ice to purchase.

So you can all just filk off already.

Next major Silver Sea event to my knowledge will be Club Crawl. I’m in the process of recruiting some talent, god willing…

Just watched “Rescue Me” with Denis Leary. Not at my own house, though, cause I don’t have cable and it’s on FX. Maybe I’ll get cable again. It was deep and satiric and sad and dark and true. It was black comedy edged with tragic seriousness in the vein of Kurt Vonnegut or Douglas Coupland. And plus I kind of think Denis Leary is hot. Er, rather, Denis Leary is still hot, even though he’s getting up there a bit. But we all know about me and those aging Irish guys…

Narcissistic vampires who wound themselves, then lick the blood…

Still awaiting word from the outside world,but no one listens, there is not a soul around to hear…I am all you never wanted…there are rainbows, one god’s promise that never was broken…rain like a weeping baptism, drenching my desert soul, I am a lizard shedding skins, I am a fallen saguaro riddled with bullet holes and the rodent burrowing inside it…drown me in a desert flood and let me die with some irony at least…I envy friends who say they want to die, I wish I wanted to die, life would be so much easier to take if I didn’t have to love it back…

She is

blood black cherries in July

sticky and red and bitter pitted

abundant and bruised and green at the stem

too much sweetness in the swelter

she needs drying in the desert sun

or to be frozen

till winter comes

I don’t want to be loved
I just want someone to suck the poison out

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Eight of Swords (Interference): Chagrin at the unforeseen consequences of prior decisions. Criticism, censure, and the imposition of external restrictions. Confusion leading to powerlessness. Inability to focus on the crux of a problem and free oneself from a difficult situation. Being hamstrung by a past failure or humiliation.

The Fool: Fearlessness, imagination, open-mindedness, and an adventurous spirit. Freedom from cares and worries. Ideas, thoughts, and impulses coming from a completely unexpected place. Nonchalance at the threshold of gaining all or losing all. Extravagance and intoxication with life. The pure and undifferentiated power of creation itself, where ultimate knowledge and oblivion are unified.

(detritus)(dream)(poetica)(myth)(opinion)(divination)

Typing in yet another series of product descriptions into yet another Microsoft program, I zen out and lose all context of what I’m typing as usual. For all intents and purposes I am just a monkey with a typewriter. But every once in a while this trancelike state causes me to look at things in unusual ways and the most benign things strike me as being hysterically funny. For instance, I type in “50 elastic hair bands” and suddenly picture a stage full of competing 80’s hair metal bands dressed in lycra, crowded onto a stage and collapse into a fit of giggles. I suspect everyone here must think I’m a tad off my rocker. Not that there’s anything wrong with that…Oh well, back to the grind.

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As regards the onetime love of my life: either I’m the devil incarnate or I’m long suffering and beloved and misunderstood.Why can’t we just try to be friends and try to agree on what’s best for our kids and get on with our lives? Why does he always save his biggest tantrums for the weekend? Never mind. I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that one. I don’t want to “win” or be always in the right or anything like that.I’d settle for having my input valued on occasion and maybe not being told what to do and how to do it all the time. I don’t want much, just a tiny bit of privacy and a chance to go out on occasion (without being followed!) and some time to be a mommy to my girls without having to be a full time martyr. Sometimes he gives me money when I need it. I wish I could say no, because it’s not support and it’s not a loan. He’s trying to buy me and when it doesn’t always work I get punished. If tonight were any night but Saturday he wouldn’t hate me, I guarantee you.And the total fucking irony there is that he gets so bitter and angry because he wants me back, but the uglier he behaves the less inclined I am to ever remotely consider it. For all the hurt I ever caused I never intentionally inflicted pain on the level he’ll casually toss at me in a five minute telephone conversation on a Friday afternoon. I can’t spend my life with someone capable of being that hateful no matter what the justification. That can’t be a good thing for my girls to see. If they have to see that, then they also need to learn that the proper response to that kind of treatment is to walk away from it. So that’s what I’ve done. I feel bad for him, but not so bad as to let myself be crucified just to soothe his bruised feelings. Fuck that. It’s my first Saturday night free in three weeks. I think I’m going out tonight whether the dishes ever get finished or not. I think if someone didn’t come in to inspect the cleanliness of my house all the time I might be less reluctant to clean it. I think I may have a dog that needs a new home: male labrador mix, three years old, very friendly, needs lots of energy that I just don’t have right now.

Where do I get my humour and faith and strength as a human being? I think in all honesty it may be just the mental energy I save by never cleaning my house.

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