Wicked Wanderings

updated update

2009-02-19T20:28:00.000-08:00

I've been playing around with WordPress. Though I currently find their theme selections lacking (something I will eventually pay to fix), I find their ToS much more agreeable then Google's creepy "we have potential rights to everything" disclaimers.

MY ART
mine mine mine!

Anyway, you can check it out here for now. A final post will be made on the page you are currently reading in which I shall announce my permanent move. Soonish. Or somesuch.

Update

2009-02-19T13:28:00.000-08:00

I am in the throws of deciding when, where, and how to start publishing my work. That means that the 2 or 3 of you who read this are being warned of the future that lies in store for Wicked Wanderings. It may mean more posts, or possibly a move to other services with a different ToS.

Look for updates in the next couple of weeks as I sort this all out. If you are familiar with other electronic mediums that protect content or do not claim rights to it, respond to this post or shoot me an email.

Love and a pill,
~iSirkus

Dream Recorder and now a mini rant

2008-12-12T12:52:00.000-08:00

"Dreams may no longer be secret with Japan computer screen"

It's about time someone started figuring out how to let me record my dreams. And of course it would be the Japanese and not Americans developing this type of technology since most of us seem more then willing to let Hollywood supply fantasy fodder for us!

A dream recorder/display would be one of those gadgets that if it fulfilled its potential to display the worlds and characters of dreamland accurately, would be a must have on my list and may even warrant giving up the Uisce beatha for as long as necessary. Yes, you read that correctly! As stated in Wednesday's post, I can never get these vingnettes down soon enough or I am robbed of them by NPR's Morning Edition or BBC's World Have Your Say (as was the case this morning).

(Completely, Non-sequitur here...But if you are one of these people who are in a lab or room where people are obviously engaging in school or work, take the @#$%ing cellphone out to the hall. I totally just lost my concentration because of this rude behavior.)

And yes, I am now using this blog as a passive means of venting the situation instead of politely asking the girl to go out in the hall. Someone call me, so I can set an example!

Well enough for now, I wanted to step into the creative potential of the dream recording device, but I am easily distracted today. I would promise to come back to it in a later post, but why disappoint you?

Palettes come and go.

2008-12-10T14:14:00.000-08:00

My dreams of late have had some great antagonistic characters, ranging from demon spider giantesses to deranged black emperors with cackling voices, even a firey rabbit/cat creature (racatalope?). The unfortunate thing is that I cannot remember their contexts, just visions of color. Damn alarm clock!

I looked for a picture to entertain you and illustrate, but google pics cannot do justice to these figures. I should have taken up drawing.

BAH!

2008-11-05T20:53:00.000-08:00

There you have it.

Post #203

2007-08-13T22:15:00.000-07:00

Yay(Insert question mark here...stupid keyboard)

One of these nights, this rant will unhinge itself from my brain and the wolf shall feed. I keep hoping when I sit down to post it will come...

But then I get that blinking line and all that white space...and I crawl back into the cave. Good thing there's a picture show...

I'm not dead yet...

2007-08-10T02:23:00.000-07:00

I just couldn't sleep...

Jake in 2008!: Math Anxiety

2007-02-20T19:00:00.000-08:00

Jake in 2008!: Math Anxiety

I found a cure!

Irish coffee. Or barring that, a good stiff drink before class.

No bloody heat

2007-01-30T20:00:00.000-08:00

When the furnace fan starts to make weird rattling noises, call the bloody repairman right away. Lest you go three days trying to ignore the thumpity chugging and wind up with a low drone that eventually dies out, leaving you and your house to suffer less than 40 degree weather.

NO really! If you try to change the filter (and clean the fan blades)and it still makes that weird noise? It probably means it's still not working properly.

I am now surrounded by various fire breathing floor dragons that growl and chuckle at me. The oldest one was laughing so hard his cage rattled his bones forcing me to pull his plug. My head is cluttered enough already and the constant white whirls, rattles, burning dust odors and lack of heat is making it hurt.

And now the gray beast next my feet seems to have decided to take a nap. And I need to determine if the fuse went, or he's just to cheap to care about my needs.

hrmm. I think I need a beer. Though if I drink whiskey, I won't feel the cold...

After I eat my garlic cheese bread (such comfort foods are needed right now), I'm going down to the pub. And If I'm lucky, Jake will call and I can tell him to pick me up, since 3 hours of beer will probably force me to walk home. And damnit, I'm tired of being cold.

Edit: PS~ It is the bloody fuse... son of a @$%&#!

unsticking from the frozen pole

2007-01-27T23:55:00.000-08:00

The words that I grasped and tore at the air for the other night still illude me. But I believe that the "why" of such is coming to light. Albeit slower than my tired gooey head cares to think about.

I can see shadows of the these words/concepts in the mirror, and until I can either focus the lens or let go of it all together--will my pieces huddle together and conspire to create the message I want share. The problem is...truth, or perhaps honesty. Honesty with my own memories of events. The tickle is there and my subject matter the shadow that holds the feather. But is the shadow me? Or the woman I buried in 2002, with a spade and black dirt?

blank

The brain plays tricks on me. And I refuse in my fatigue to play it's game. But only cuz it hurts. A pale vacant pain that frustrates until I slumber the few short hours I muster.

I SHOULD go to bed...But I want an hour or two to celebrate my promotion. A token one for now, but it means that the days of interacting with 300-800 individual energies are over. Now, instead of interacting with kilowatt after kilowatt, I can watch the arc, looking for potential as I view a whole and slip down another hole.

grasping (or damn it, I'm stuck)

2007-01-25T21:18:00.000-08:00

Where the hell have all the words gone? There has got to be a bloody word for pose that doesn't mean peacock or some other active element. Stupid thesaurus.

the saurus...a relic

Nah, I'm just missing something...an element...a passive element.

More water! More water!

On a side note,

I'm beginning to think I actually write more, if I leave the house. Perhaps the stimulating elements of a coffee shop or pub and chemically enhanced elves in funny hats engaging me with their art and wit–even their curiosity–encourage my productivity. Or maybe it's the chemicals I injest? Yes, that is part of the equation.

Environment + elves in funny hats + weapons/tools + chemicals = More productivity from the squirrel nibbling on wood bits in the corner.

I digress.

I am now practicing the fine art of finding a "different view" in which to revise my papers, I'm going to run out of viable rooms soon. And I have enough liquid refreshment at home, so going to the pub would be frivilous. Time to start moving furniture me thinks.

My ideal space is growing into a glass dome layered in flat woody or tiled surfaces and zebra fur benches and bouncy blue balance balls. And there will be plush carpet and a fireplace too, damnit. And of course it will be in the center of all conceivable climates and times of day. And a dungeon for when the sun hurts. Got that X? I need it on the cheap too.

right

OK! Enough with the distractions!

Edited: stupid "the"

monkey NEED banana...

2007-01-09T20:10:00.000-08:00

...or why yesterday went all wrong and how I learned to wait.

Pineapple, and melon. The little meaty chunks of overly ripe fruit stuck in my teeth. That was my breakfast. Oh and miniature grapes too. Soggy, flavorless red buttons. It was supposed to be a banana. That was what I needed, a bit of mushy yellow, vitamin rich sweetness for sustenance. Just one. The disappointment of seeing the bright green gift of nature sitting in the brown basket, made me cringe. They seemed to taunt me, daring me to eat them. I could taste the lack of yellow mushiness, the raw, firm texture of the underdeveloped banana. I glared back at them. One wholesome piece of fruit. One piece of fruit that doesn’t change texture on you or get stuck in your teeth. Was that to much to ask for? The yellow comfort eluded me this morning however, and I settled for a latte to get me along to the next fruit seller. And he sold me little meaty chunks of overly ripe fruit that got stuck in my teeth.

Rage too

2007-01-08T19:05:00.000-08:00

ahh fuck it.

I need to move some place sunnier, less cloudy.

Rage

2007-01-08T18:28:00.000-08:00

RAW Data

Funny...I feel bluish.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Bad Internal DJ!!

2006-12-09T15:37:00.000-08:00

I may have to drown him in whiskey and murder ballads tonight.

Sarah Mclachlan...

dude!

no!

mythic musings

2006-12-09T15:19:00.000-08:00

It amazes me how often I forget that myth weaves through my life. How often it goes unnoticed, until it hits me squarely between the eyes and I am forced to look at it, rub my brow in pain and then consider it as only a map in which guides my existance.

The myth always seems to be accompianed by its patron dieties or archetypes and in my worldview of the moment, colored by one myth or another, those archetypes infuse me and make themselves known to those who pass by me. Whether they catch the Venus weeping or "Ishtar Rising", they will go the extra step to say hello and gooday. But only if I am aware of the archetypal behavior I am experiencing. Perhaps it is only coincidince, but I'm tending to think not.

Despondency

2006-12-06T12:29:00.000-08:00

I am still struggling to find the words to express the anquish I feel as I stare into a chasm void of the malty goodness of the velvety king of ales on tap.

peeking in

2006-12-01T17:41:00.000-08:00

It seems that when I have nothing to do, I can not focus. Yet when my cup is overflowing, I tend to become keener, even driven to step back from the conscious mask of the self. Then I become sloppy and forgetful when ducking the bombardment of stimuli.

There's a need to set aside the labels and release the creature lurking where only the lunar rays can reach. But there is no time...yet time is at my fingers tips.

This is my dilemma until the spout on the cup unclogs itself. But then everything will be flowing again, and my overflowing vessel will be empty.

What sustenance will I draw from then?

I'm thinking goat sacrifices. Unfortunately, I dont know where to get a goat in this town. Maybe the yellow dog will be up for it.

je ne sais quoi

2006-11-29T18:57:00.000-08:00

I have nothing, sorry.. try again later.

Cause of and solution too...

2006-11-17T18:08:00.000-08:00

I speak of whiskey. And a confession.

Either school or this damn cold drive me to drink whiskey. I personally think it's both.

Having said whiskey in my system for the past week has had certain pyschological effects. I am assuming that these little foibles are just enhanced by the Irish friend I keep near me and not created by.

One in particular though is the desire to corrupt young men. Am I turning into a dirty old woman? Or have I been predestined to eventually turn into one by the learned behavior from my mother? Is it just the whiskey whore let loose?

Case in point.
Tonight after work I stopped off at the Uptown Liquor store. The clerk was not anywhere near 25 yet. And in his cute, round faced innocence, I caught the sheepish blushing and coy attempts at flirting. The wicked woman in my head went into predator mode, and I had to try and remain composed and not laugh at the situation, or the poor guy I was thinking about sinking my teeth into, and the surprise at my own thoughts.

And it's not because I look at the guy and say wow, he's hot. It's the thought of how my umm expertise would blow this young tender man into whole new realities. The thought of the act of corrupting them is what gets me going. Not the carnal act.

So my solution? Stays with me, and one other, and he better be ready for some wickedness.

Somethings amiss

2006-11-01T21:21:00.000-08:00

Either my attitude, or my classes.

It seems that the desire to learn anything flew away with those last hot, sunny days of summer. Gone is the will to write any more papers, or study for the midterm (that should have happened last week!), or amuse myself with verb conjugation in another language. Instead, I want to sleep and stay up late drinking coffee and smoking ciggarettes.

I feel so lazy. I hope it's just a phase.

My google how-to of the day

2006-11-01T19:16:00.000-08:00

How to Get Rid of Spider Webs - WikiHow

Ya.. I use Jake, or the shop vac. No pussy footen around with paper towels and duct tape on brooms. I sure as hell hope these writers aren't getting paid for their advice.

My fvaorite line however is this:
If it’s a really big spider hold on to a rail because with flat bottom shoes you can slip and fall once you squish it.

I keep laughing everytime I read that.

sniffing

2006-11-01T19:00:00.000-08:00

If I choose to read my history book in the presence of the yellow dog, she must always sniff it twice and lick it three times. No exception.

Sniff
lick
lick
sniff
lick

I tried it...but I'm not picking up any hints of spilled coffee, tea, or weird smells that are similar to that of the leather case I carry my books in. And now that I think of it, I don't know why I would want to subject myself to what horrors that could entail; except perhaps to bond with her without tossing the bald, slimey, split tennis ball across the room.

And a Very Happy Un-Birthday to You

2006-10-22T23:40:00.000-07:00


This year's presents included an old VW bug purring for me after a small blood sacrifice and a promised road trip to the beach. She then proceeded to give me a fireworks display of flaming balls of carbon from the tail pipes. It was a good day.

I love space news headlines

2006-10-11T23:25:00.000-07:00

Probe peers into Venusian secrets

What drives its "super-rotation"?

That's what inquiring minds want to know!

So this is creative non fiction, yes?

2006-10-11T22:33:00.000-07:00

Is Cheap Energy on the Horizon? - Special Edition - Yahoo! Finance

hrmmm

lessee...

yep. After 2 mins of thinking it through, the article is a bunch of pooh, designed to get us to vote for republicans.

Here's some of the good bits; we have miraculous oil supply recovery, then a scapegoat, a sword brandishing hero who takes out a "freak", but his meds don't make him crazy! And a bit of "humor" to wrap up this rosey outlook. All this in way to fecking long of an article padded with FLUFFY human interest shit. oh and there were some numbers in there.. but we all know that me and numbers have an interesting relationship. (read, I'll do it for the 4.0, IF i have too)

Lynch argues that the threat of disruptions--nuclear brinkmanship, war, terrorism, hurricanes, pipeline corrosion--has larded oil prices with a $20-a-barrel risk premium. As these perils recede, oil prices will fall.

So countries that test the Nuclear bomb (pronounced Nuk E LER)against the will of the "other countries" do not pose a threat? mmmkay. Class, mmkay, huh, Pyongyang, he's, well class, he's not right in the head. mmm kay?

...the 2002 strike by Venezuelan oil workers has kept 1 million or so barrels per day off that country's output of 3.25 million bpd. The subsequent application of socialist economics to the Venezuelan fields has done little to bring that volume back.

Yep- it's all those damn socialist workers in Venezuela to blame for high prices.

And this is, well...bad reporting? WHAT DOES IT HAVE TO DO WITH THE PRICE OF OIL IN CHINA?!?! (or any where else?)

Stabbed in the chest, knocked unconscious with a bottle of triple sec from his liquor cabinet, Lynch woke to find one of the culprits still on the scene. So he grabbed a sword he kept behind his bedroom door and--still wrapped in his plaid bathrobe--whacked the guy. In the hospital, he identified the assailant by the tattoos on his arms. The incident triggered a mild form of posttraumatic stress that he keeps in check with low doses of antidepressants. The pills, he insists, do not affect his outlook on the long-term health of the world oil supply.

Damn those tattooed freaks! Is it just me or does getting knocked out by a bottle of Triple Sec, seem just a little embarrassing? I guess he likes margaritias. If I were the reporter, I would definitely reconsider my word choice. mmmmm diction. I now know that if I plan on breaking into someone's house to stab them in the heart, I should bring some good whiskey along to bash over the victim's head. At least then the reporter will know that this tattooed freak at least has some taste.

In Texas these days you still see bumper stickers on the backs of old pickup trucks that read, "Lord, just give me one more oil boom and I promise not to piss it away this time." Lynch says, "Now's the time to go long on bumper stickers and short on oil."

What the hell? Did you not just spend several paragraphs telling me how this sword waving guy says we're going to have cheap oil again? And that we don't need to worry about it?

This article, (if I must call it something) was a huge waste of an hour of my life. I have spent that long responding to it in the most Un-schorlarly way possible. Fine, I did try to use puncuation and keep an I out for weird uses off hear and where, and their boing summer salts by the sea horse

*wicked grin*

But the reason I latched onto this is because it seems so formulaic and terribly dramatic for a piece that should be fairly straight forward. I would go as far to say that it is fantastic, in a wholly unbelievable fashion. The "real numbers" are hidden between weird tales and broad generalizations. Finding the factual evidence seems to be discouraged by the writer as he tries to keep you reading by throwing in mythic elements of good and bad. Which is why I can't believe that A) prices are going down because the world is a friendlier place and;
B) this story isn't written as propaganda or spin, if you will, meant to encourage a sense of content amongest people who don't think for themselves and have become disgruntled enough to not vote republican this fall, if they do at all.

The other reason is that I plan on taking a Creative Non-Fiction class in the winter and this type of writing is my worst nightmare. I honestly thought I was reading an Onion article, and I checked everywhere on the page to make sure it wasn't.

And one last thing. I know one other person who thought the same thing as I as we watched gas prices drop 30-40 cents in the last 2-3 weeks.

Elections coming up?

yep, kinda creepy ain't it?

but bush doesn't have ties to the oil industry.

nope...

Falsely True Meaninglessness

2006-10-05T00:41:00.000-07:00

Synchronicity #2327
I posted to Mick's Site around 11pm PST last night and was awoken at 4am by Jake yelling Sri Syadasti in his sleep.

And it's STILL not weird enough, yet.

I was productive

2006-10-05T00:30:00.000-07:00

And here it is for your reading pleasure. Constructive Criticism is ok- just remember this IS a 101 class.

Homos Despairus or Why me?

A man walks into a bar and ends up with a goose egg on his forehead. He cries out in vain to a guy relaxing on a pearly throne in the clouds and the events of the day scroll through his memories as having been just as painful. The dog died, he lost his job and he received a parking ticket. These events make for a good soap opera and set an example to examine the assertions of Karen Armstrong’s theory in A Short History of Myth; that humankind seeks meaning and value out of life. However, if we look at the nature of these and similar situations, the question of why seems invoked in times of duress. It is seldom that such questions arise when people are content.
“But human beings fall easily into despair,” (K. Armstrong). In this passage Armstrong seems to focus on a negative aspect of human behavior, an emotion that is not a joyful experience, rather quite an unpleasant one. She suggests that humans “agonize” over the “plight” of themselves and others, comparing mankind to their favorite companion, Canis lupus familiaris, who doesn’t seem to care about such matters. The author uses other negative sounding diction, such as “depressing” and “chaotic” to express man’s need for answers.
The Egyptians and Mesopotamians repeatedly reacted quite strongly to stormy weather and the hard times that followed it (Humanistic Tradition, Vol.1, Ch. 1 & 2). Their world seemed chaotic during these periods and people scrambled to explain “why” to themselves by entreating such matters to the gods. In Egypt however, the social order was turned on its head and every individual became responsible through his deeds (Humanistic Traditions, Vol. 1, Ch.1). These deeds consisted of doing good by thy neighbor, by not doing anything bad to them. The Book of the Dead hints at adverseness in the use of negative grammar, “I have not…” Whereas they could have written phrases akin to “I helped elderly ladies cross the street.” This injurious conceptualization of deeds not only impedes a person’s will to act by generalizing behavior into good and bad but, the person who complies with this code of conduct is still vulnerable to the elements of nature that cannot be predicted. His dog may die in a freak accident with a large brick even if he (the owner) did not steal the brick in the first place. The despairing master of the beloved pet might now question why and run through his laundry list of “things he didn’t do” and still find no reason for the dogs untimely demise.
These dramatic events that shape everyday life play a large part in humankind’s perceptions of the universe and the individual. However, negative concepts dot the social fabric enough to color man’s views of random situations to blind him to the beautiful and tranquil aspects of our world. The sacred and divine are found throughout the forests and homes of civilization, yet no one asks why such wonderful things exist. They do not fret over how lucky they are to have beautiful partners and mountains of gold. They only question in their darkest hour, when they need positive affirmation and beauty the most, when they cannot properly assess their own value.

groan...

2006-10-04T22:05:00.000-07:00

It's a bad night when I have a one page response paper regarding myth to write and I can't get the spanish and gametes out of my head long enough to spit out something coherent.

Yes, I am avoiding my homework. Well part of it, I've already been at it for 3 hours.

Ooookay

2006-09-29T22:18:00.000-07:00

So it seems Habeas Corpus has been tossed out the window this week for a brief vacation. (We can all hope can't we?)But it's ONLY for terrorists. So don't worry.
Aside from going into all the things that I could say about this and how bad and terrible it is, I instead offer a teeny ray of hope to ya'll.

This could mean no Habeas Corpus for the ones who allowed this come to be. Oh and we can torture them to, cuz torture s'ok now too, right?

I had the votes somewhere.. I saw them, but I can't find the damn page.

If I recall correctly Oregon Senators voted to pass it...I think I need to write a letter.

Oh and HURRAY Minnesota! You get to host the 2008 Republican convention!

Alright back to studying DNA and cells or some such.

TOOL

2006-09-01T20:52:00.000-07:00

Somedays I just can't get enough.

It's one of those days...

I select my playlist containing anything I have ever found involving TOOL and Perfect Circle. Hit shuffle and pump up the volume.

I soak in the power, sway my head and twist my hips, get lost for a track or two, come back to my senses and then manifest some will upon my life...and then another track touches somewhere deep inside, and I lose myself all over again. (need to remember to take of the heals next time.)

I'll do this for days sometimes...

Squirrel Meets Surf

2006-08-28T21:28:00.000-07:00

Or,

"How I learned to love the wave and what it did to me when I got there."

Squeezing into a Tyr swim suit and wet suit after a half mile sweaty trek in 90 degree weather in a 2 by 4 foot stall covered in mildew does not promote a sense of glamour in ones activities. In fact, it has quite the opposite effect of causing general annoyance and a feeling of unsexiness that seems more and more foreign to me in my creation of self. It wasn't until I was firmly zipped up in the ill fitting Body Glove, that I was able to conjure back my sexy self image. I didn't want to meet a new acquaintance as frumpy (or lumpy?) old lady.

Most of my visual experience yesterday was fuzzy as I had removed the lenses granting me clear vision. It was no matter anyway, as the other senses became more acute in the water. I was left to explore on my own for the first hour or two and that gave me a chance to feel out the strength and nature of being fully submerged in the salty waters. The first strides into the ocean were charged with a bit of trepidation and exuberant joy. Like a child approaching a new playmate, I said hello and "hugged" the first wave to kiss my breast. If you could call it dancing, I would. But I can't. There is no single word on my lips to describe the playful frolicking and exploration of body in water I performed with my new friend. She would push, then pull, lift me and try to drown me. I played tag with her white waters, tread through her frigid silky self and drank through my nose. She would slap the back of my head, and I would dive under her next onslaught. All the while I laughed with her, the smile would not leave my face unless a nose full of salt water caused me to shake my head with nostrils, eyes and mouth flared open to expunge the briny cocktail.

After a while of trying to body surf on the white waters, I felt the urge to try using a board. Since the guys had the two surf boards, I headed to shore and grabbed the skim board. Having done a little research into the how-to's of surfing, I knew to lift the board over oncoming white water. The skim board was not a very good floater, so I carried it out to the deeper water, excitedly anticipating the sharing of the toy with my knew friend. My first attempts at catching the white water failed miserably. My timing was off. So I stood and watched a woman in her 50's and grandchild(?) bodying surfing with square (boogie)boards that were thicker than mine. I mimicked the timing and spatial relations and soon found myself catching the teeny waves and getting 3 or 4 feet before my board would sink down. Eventually I started to question what I was doing wrong, my board should not be sinking. I gingerly approached the seasoned woman;

"Hello, could I please ask you a question?" I was greeted warmly by this couple of chics smiling as big as I was.

"This is my first time trying to surf and my friends have the other boards, so I thought I would try this out. I can go a few feet, but then the board drops out from underneath me. Is there some way to avoid that?"

Her eyes twinkled. "Your first time? We were impressed by the way you were actually using that board to surf! It's generally used up by the sands to skim the water, like riding a skate board." They laughed, the elder protectively grabbing my arm as swell pushed into us.

I blushed."Oh? Well, no wonder it sinks!"

We chatted a bit more and then I wandered back to try the "impossible" again. Which of course wasn't nearly as exciting now that I knew I wasn't playing with my toys correctly. After a few more tries, I lugged the seemingly heavy board back to our camp. The desire for one of the surf boards was gnawing at me, thankfully M. had returned with the 7 foot short board. I grabbed that and headed back out.

I tried to feel out the board, where was I most balanced, etc. The first few waves rolled me as I forced my self to not think to much. I couldn't get my balance within the breaks or between them for that matter. At one point I had a brush with fear after being rolled underneath the board into a teal dream of bubbles and pale sunlight. Up!! UP!!! Gasping for air as I lunged forth from the water, I shook the pain from my sinuses and spit out the salt. This initiation of balance and finding the surface of the water lasted for what seemed 15 mins. I decided it was long board time. It's recommended that beginners, such as my self, start out on the long oblong boards. These are longer (duh), a bit thicker and have more rounded ends. Good for learning the balancing act. (hrmm longer and thicker, *cough*) I approached Jake and we switched boards. I now had a bigger toy, 9ft long and bright blue.

This board was heavier, and caught more water. I failed to make it very far out, for every 6 paces I was shoved back 3 or 4. So I tried for 10 paces between breaks. I realized my balance much quicker with this board, but found it harder to maneuver. Turning around in time for a wave was near impossible, so I finally just had to face the beach, careful to keep on eye on what was coming at my backside. (Never turn your back on the ocean!) As a swell would approach I would start paddling. Eventually I caught a good sized one and managed to surf for more than a few feet!

And here my friend is where the language I possess fails me. For a brief moment I was free from the sense of gravity, soaring over the water with a sense of free fall. The laughter bubbled forth in my exuberance of sharing the dance with wave. "Wooohoooo!" escaped my lips as I cheered at the board gliding with the wave. It was an ecstasy quite different from mind altering chemicals and orgasmic explosions that torpedoed my flesh and mind. I can't even imagine what I will experience when I am able to stand and ride swells minutes at a time. My body and mind are burning even now at the thought.

Jake found me at the southern end where the currents had coaxed me. He had gone to drop off the short board in order to help me out. I think I had the biggest grin on my face."Did you see me!?! Oh Wow!" I know, it sounds cliche. But what the hell else do you say?

We started working our way back up to the northern end of the breaks. We were hit by a large wave that knocked hard against my head. The long board pulled at me while the wave dragged me under. I re-surfaced a bit stunned. We carried on a little ways, but my head and body needed a break. The long board caught a lot of water being wider and longer than the short board, and thus took more of my strength and energy to get about. After the smashing fun of that big wave, I couldn't muster the clarity and will to direct the blue behemoth. It was to much work and took the fun out of the challenge of catching the waves.

Our break consisted of sandwiches and a cigarette under the bright hot sun. For the recorded I had remembered the sunblock this time, but only applied it to my face. Anything between my waist and chin not safely hidden by the black Tyr swimsuit is now a nice rosy bronze.

I next took the short board out. Having discovered a way to mostly balance myself had given me new hope for the white pointy board. I was eager and willing to try again. I managed 3 or 4 more good catches before the temperature of the water started to affect my hands that were now starting to hurt from the icy waters. I grudgingly made my way to shore, starting to feel a bit beaten. I got into the shallow, angle deep waters and set down the 7ft board to remove the tie strap. After detachment I picked up the board and promptly dropped it. My hands were to cold and my arms fatigued enough to not "listen" to what my brain was telling them to do. This saddened me, my desire for more wave riding was great, but the practical voice in my head knew that my muscles were done for the day, and that many dangers await in the ocean if you cannot even react properly to your brain signals.

The rest of the afternoon was spent soaking up the sun and getting video footage of the guys playing in the water. As the sun crept down and to the right, my body started to awaken in the warmth and the soreness started to worm it's way into my shoulders and back. For the most part it wasn't bad, I was just beat. I yearned to go back in one last time, but the thought of the cold bath awaiting me, kept me lounging on the large driftwood like a napping lizard. Around 6 or so, we packed up and headed back to the truck, each step bringing me closer to the moment where I could let go and doze with rhythmic body memories of being carried through, over and under the waves.

There's a fluid movement in me today, interspersed with sore shoulders and ribcage. I managed to work out the soreness of the lower back and legs with some yoga this afternoon. A tightness in the neck, shoulders and upper back however, keeps me from relaxing completely. I still feel a bit giddy if I allow my self to slip into yesterday's experiences. A smile hides behind my eyes, curling the corners of my mouth up and into my cheek bones. I want to go again. But there are things that need fixin first. And I am really lookin forward to the day when I step in to 70 degree waters...

Sun and Surf

2006-08-28T19:03:00.000-07:00

For the Surf Footage, head to Jake's Page and watch him and our friend wipe and ride.

We hiked about 1/2 a mile out to Short Sands beach. The picturesque view was framed in high cliffs covered in Douglas Firs and jagged rock lines. White gray clouds rolled on the horizon with the occasion spill of mist rolling over the northern rock face. As our friend commented, "You keep thinking a wizard is gonna appear."

When we weren't playing in the waves or watching others; we watched the fishing boats bobbing in the choppy waters.

We planted ourselves against a large piece of drift wood, catching the vista and having a back rest. The smooth gray rocks weren't to bad for sitting on. Walking was another matter. These lovely sculptures lay behind our spot.

I didn't get as many shots as I would have liked as the sun was in our eyes most of the day. Besides, after getting smashed by a couple of waves, all you can do is sit and watch. The thoughts meandering about in the head were pictures of what just happened to you in the water and an elation prancing over the fatigue creeping through the muscles.

We stopped in Canon Beach on the way out and had a sandwich on the beach while watching the sunset. This rock is called Haystack. It's corresponding Needles being the small ones to the left. At low tide, this is a great place to sea starfish and sea aenemones.

It seems that when the sun is about 2 inches (from the perspective of standing on the beach) above the horizon, that it suddenly drops. I sat, fixated on those moments of actually seeing the sun go down in less than 5 mins. I think it helped to have the clouds pressed against the ocean's skin, dividing it from the sky.

From the shore, the ocean here always seems on welcoming. It's something about Cannon Beach, and how the waves break here, me thinks. Most days a cold northern wind sweeps and cuts through you. Causing much cussing to be brought down upon it.

The waxing moon extended its drawn out wink to us, and blessed our trip home, where a cool shower and bed awaited our tired bodies.

The next time we head out to the coast will most likely involve heading to Short Sands again, minus the cooler of sandwich fixins. Out here, all you need is some trail mix, or maybe a Clif Bar, or some fruit, water and Gatorade. Food tends to fill you to much. And we found weren't all that hungry. The cliffs here block the wind from the beach and the currents get caught on the out croppings of rock making for some very decent 5-6 foot swells, perfect for those of us starting out. There's also some great white waters which brought to mind Swede Transvestite. I wonder how heavy a kayaking boat is?

Next Post: The squirrel and the wave, a love affair in the making.

End of the road for 'light' cigarettes after epic US tobacco case - World - Times Online

2006-08-19T00:07:00.000-07:00

End of the road for 'light' cigarettes after epic US tobacco case - World - Times Online

From my experience, of those friends that smoke, the majority of those that switched to lights for "their health", seemed to actually smoke more often. lesseee...

M and M and S and L and A and another M oh...and P and an S, and a J. And another J.

However, I believe "A" has quit. And I only ever knew "D" to smoke lights and I think he's quit now.

I hope this ruling sticks, as much as I am an advocate of free choice and what have you, "Light" never really tasted good to me, nor did it ever satisfy me. And I watched my friends choke themselves when doubling the cancer stick intake.

Time to go smoke my last one of the evening.

Sleep well and dream of dancing ciggarettes...

MUHAHAAAHAHAAAA!!!!!

Lemme know when it's out of your head...

2006-08-14T22:53:00.000-07:00

Tonight's outing to the concert in the park infused me with some live klezmer music and allowed me much quality time with the inlaws and the French chaperone. A grand evening of mellow tempratures that left me with sore hands (lots of rhythmic clapping) and a sense that people can be down right rude and inappreciative of musicians.

The evenings festivities began with a speech from the MC asking that parents take this opportunity to teach their kids about proper ettiqute while in attendance of the concert. That behavior should be in check and the kids not running around, etc.

Few parents paid any heed and allowed the kids to run amok. On top of that, they conversed amongest themselves, ignoring the band. The whole scene was a bit sad. Also, the band had asked that the audience participate (as the music encourages you to do) by clapping along with the beat. I joyfully participated in this endeavor along with our French gal who is also out visiting with the inlaws. We clapped along the whole time, supporting the artists in their performance. At times we were the only two clapping out the tempo.

What is it about an outdoor concert that allows people to think that they don't need to be a respectful audience? There were even times that my father inlaw turned to me to share his wise comment about child rearing or astute observation of how a little girl out dancing was going to grow up to be a stripper. I did not have the drive to even argue with that comment. I was there to enjoy the music and maybe even learn something about the Jewish folk music. There was some song about Jesus and feet that I didn't catch the story behind because A) my inlaw was making mundane observations and B) people were talking while Sammy Epstein was trying to tell us what the hell it was all about.

And even though they didn't play my favorite piece, there was one highlight of the evening. It was a tall Jew Boy dancing along with the final piece. He new his moves and even a few flips. Whoever said Jews don't have rhythm was a lying sack of dung.

Things not normal

2006-08-14T22:20:00.000-07:00

Go make some Art.

A letter from the President...

2006-08-09T23:14:00.000-07:00

...arrived in the mail today.

He wanted to congratulate me.

It seems that when you spend the last 3 weeks of the term driving the household crazy while ingesting coffee by the gallon and in place of meals, the PSU president deems it necessary to send you a simple letter on nice, soft paper. He even signs it with real ink!

So I plastered it to the fridge.

HA! Take that Deans list! I made the President's list!

What's Next?

2006-08-07T23:55:00.000-07:00

Leopard Sneak Peek

Puma?

Siamese?

Aren't they going to run out of cat families soon?

And another thing!

2006-08-07T23:15:00.000-07:00

Pre-packaged tobacco sticks, suck.

They burn fast, have little flavor and I have a need to rip the filter off in order to even feel the sweet burn of smoking. This causes me to smoke more cigarettes. Usually with my hand rolled vice, I can get 3 separate smokings from one stick. This is due to the moist content and slower burning papers. If I put it down or cease to take a drag from it, the ember dies out. But alas, I must wait until Wednesday for a proper smoke.

GAH!

My airport connection is intermittent tonight. Stop interrupting my ABBA!

ooohh I just thought of an even better smoke! How could I forget? MMMMM applely hooka tobacco goodness. muhahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaa!

I think I need MORE coffee.

Waterloo

2006-08-07T22:40:00.000-07:00

Apparently the neighbors have Tuesdays off, as Monday night seems to be BBQ night out back. (see Last weeks "How the Grr Began Post). At least tonight it's ABBA for our evenings theme music.

I like ABBA. Except "Thank You for the Music." That song can be drop kicked off a cliff, if you ask me. Which you didn't, so never mind.

Stiffle that snicker right now. It's my Happy Music. Ok and silly drunk music that I can sing and disco too.

Shush you. I can hear you, you know.

"Disco Stu should've Disco Ducked."

Pale Wanderings

2006-08-07T21:31:00.000-07:00

The sunset is a dusty pale yellow again tonight. It triggers thoughts of pollution and how Mt. Hood has been under a haze all summer. It saddens me that in the three years that I’ve been here, to see the smog proliferating over this emerald city.

2 summers ago, I sat out on the deck of a pavilion over looking the city. The sun setting behind my girlfriend and me as we partook in a most sacred endeavor. Our conversations meandered from topic to topic and we marveled at the pristine view of the mountains lolling to the east. Mt. Hood towered over the greenery, a crystalline gray studded with patches of pinkish snow. I held up my hand and my perspective changed, what was 2 miles high, could fit into the palm of my hand. This observation later triggered a conversation with the Swede Transvestite about proportions, if I recall correctly.

I felt I could see for 100’s of miles, at least. Beyond the mountain my eyes followed the ribbon of road seemingly never ending its trek over the patchwork green quilt. (Mt hood is 47 miles from Portland) The thought of looking back over the many miles I had traveled overwhelmed me at first. It occurred to me that this was the farthest from home I had ever been. The thought was both liberating and daunting. In my minds eye I waved to my mom and my brother, wishing they could see what I saw that evening.

But now when I look out from that same spot, the hills aren’t as green and the mountain hides behind a cloud of stagnant yellow mist. Crossing the river on my way home has in past been an awe inspiring moment as I look ahead of me and say hello to the cold giant sitting in the South East. But, over the last few months he has been fading and looking a bit ill.

It’s quite sad.

I’m hoping that this is just a faze of weather, and that perhaps in the fall the air will clear up and our giant will throw off his dusty cloak to bare all for us above the fiery leaves of autumn before he slumbers in November’s soggy blanket.

If this is pollution invading our view, we are in for a heap of trouble. With my imagination I see the mountain becoming redder, almost angry looking in the setting sun and the trees blackening under the heavy smog. Our rivers turning into belching cesspools…wait a sec, they already are. In the city councils infinite wisdom, they have not regulated the amount of pollution going into our rivers. It wasn’t until the Feds slapped a huge fine on the city that they did anything about it. And now we the taxpayers are paying out the ass for it.

If you ever find yourself in Portland, take a look at the river and watch the rainbow glaze slide over the brown waters. And visitors wonder why I insist on drinking water from the filtered pitcher in the fridge.

Rumor has it that many Portlanders want a larger city. I think they’re a bit nuts. Until we have a smarter consumer culture, the surrounding eco-system will not support more people. It's funny really, Portland has been known for it's "green" leaning population. Yet it's being over run with SUV's and litterbugs. According to Portland State , Oregon has seen growth of over 4% since the 2000 Census. If I’m doing my math right, that’s over 50,000 in the metro area alone. No wonder my 3 mile commute to work takes me twice as long as it did two years ago.

As beautiful as this city is, I’m afraid I don’t want to stick around for the nightmare about to come. Already they have destroyed another view of the river (haha at those people who bought land right above it for the view) to build 3 towers. I’m gonna jump ship. Head to the Shore, buy me Def Leopard T-shirt, a surf board and Step Into Some Liquid.

Dang me!

2006-08-04T23:58:00.000-07:00

Bree reminded me of my first walk out into the ocean. She got further than me, I hadn't come prepared for a swim. So I only walked out to about midrif (wet bras SUCK). I wanted to go further, but the practical gal in my head said "no" quite firmly.

But never had I felt a greater desire to let go that day. To float and allow the waves to roll over me. Jake will attest to my confession to him that afternoon. "I just want to sit in the water. Here, hold my bag."

A turbulent calm drew me in. The waves rolled into me and through me, massaging my calves and thighs. I wanted to cry. I wanted to dive. I wanted to play and push back. I smiled and hugged myself. The only reason I came out was because my two J's were patiently waiting.

One of these days, me and the yellow dog will go for a swim. And we can pretend to be dolphins. Though Me thinks Jake would be less likely to be swept out to sea.

The Homeland

2006-08-04T23:33:00.000-07:00

Ugly Fish Hat has put some of my thoughts about Minnesota into perspective for me. For the most part, she's hit the nail on the head for me. She got right in there and pointed out the void with that little nail. And for that I thank her.

And I miss old Dutch Potato chips too. And Gedney (it's the Minnesota Pickle) Baby Dills. So tangy, so crisp! And Magus Books (Now that has some serious L-space going on, it will get better as he gets more stuff.) and the state fair and probably several other things...

But it doesn't feel like home anymore. Read Bree's post and you'll maybe catch that glimpse of knowing that I felt when I went back last fall. Sometimes there's a pull, a pining for Thunderstorms, REAL blizzards and fireflies. But there's the knowing that it's not what our memories make it out to be. It can't be. It never will be, again.

I still want my fireflies though.

*pout*

Bloody Alarm Clocks...

2006-08-04T22:38:00.000-07:00

Or was it the phone? Either way, I was again stirred from a dream that had strong symbolism in it. This is really starting to annoy me. grrr.

Jake and I were exploring a cavernous labyrinth that rose to touch the morning sky. Our gravel path through the mossy cliffs was lit by the dawning pale light of early morning. We were heading Northwards, past waterfalls and glades of ash trees. I recall a woman with a golden band about her forehead on a pale mare. She carries a spear. But I can't place her in any context, she seems a traveler, like us. Like the people you pass on the street - you see them, but you don't question where or why, you just know they are there. A light blue phantom floating by.

I am in need of relief and find a multi-stalled restroom. It's ivory tiles are sullied with years of use and black mildew has filled in the grout and cracked ceramics. Things are living in the corners. I lean against a wall and slide to the floor. My perception changes to include not only what I see and feel from this mold, but I see myself from a perch above my left shoulder. Jake is kneeling near me, we are both in awe of my loss. I feel the warm blood pour from my womanhood. It spreads from me in a perfectly round pool. The color is too rich to be real. We are perplexed by it, as I have no pain...just a sense of release.

And then I awoke.

Me thinks my body has realized that I haven't pumped any hormones in to it for almost two weeks now. I'm so excited to have this chance for allowing my rhythms to return to their natural cycles. Now when I roar, we'll know it's not pre-determined by a little pill.

Muhahahahaaaa

ha

heh

hehe

Z

2006-08-02T22:18:00.000-07:00

Encyclopedia of Norse Mythology - Tyr and Zisa (Page 1)

When I first started studying the Teutonic deities, I was always a little curious as to why there was never any mention of a female counter part to one handed guy, Tyr. Nor, was there modern worship of an "old" goddess. Sure we have Frigga and Freya, but I do not see them as mother or earth goddesses. And Nerthus was to closely linked to Njord, in fact considered by some to be Njord. But since Tyr had not "come" to me as others of the pantheon had, I left the thought on the shelf where it disappeared under the other idols I piled up around it.

In light of recent synchronicties, and a comment from Jake about an article referencing such a figure, I sat down to meditate without having so much as looked at the article. In my meditation I sank into the earth. Black, warm, fertile soil enveloped me and my perception changed to a view of the mossy ground. A woman's left hand dug itself out of the soil reaching for the sunlight and then it beckoned to me. I asked for a name, and all I got was a letter.

The letter Z.

I shrugged it off, what goddess would have a Z name? The letter did not seem in place with other Germanic deity names. I rolled over and went to sleep, thinking I should try another night. Imagine my pleasant smile when I read the Wiki article and discovered "Zisa".

Several hours of scouring the web turned up very little information on this enity, which I find terribly unfortunate. However, Tactius relates her worship to that of Isis, and that gives me some hope. It at least gives me a filter into which assimilate any information coming to me, a point of recognition so to speak. But I also know that Tactius' writings are under debate, as he seems to have been quite far off on some subjects.

It also gives me an archetype that I can relate to in the context of an "old school" deity. I feel that she is not Nuit(to night like), but neither is she Babalon(to uncontrolled). She felt strong in my vision, the type of strength one might sense from their mother, before they realize that she is a sexual being as they enter puberty. The strength of a protector, perhaps? Being that she is of Eastern European descent (and Germanic) the warrior spirit is not out of the question, either.

Could Zisa be an earth/fertility/warrior goddess? Amazonian perhaps? Another avenue to explore. But I know of no primary sources relating to the Amazon tribes that describe who or what or how they worshipped. I will start keeping some notes of my research and meditations. If any of you happen to think of something or a comapartive deity, let me know.

Hey they resurrected Eris, It can be done.

Correction/update: The Amazons most likely worshipped Artemis or similar deity. And were found to far south for my purposes. *shrug*

My take on the Mideast

2006-08-01T20:03:00.000-07:00

For the last few days I have been listening to the news on the BBC and come to the conclusion that they either need to stop shooting at each other or make it an all out blood path, with no prisoners or consideration for civilian life. No nukes though. Nukes bad.

I can't even begin to describe the futility I feel as I sit here trying to think of how to present the information I have garnered from random radio and news stories about the sitituation. Hezbollah is more rag tag militants then army, so there's little point in trying to call a cease fire with them it seems. Israel has had it up to there necks with this crap and knows of no other way, it seems. So I sit here looking at theh situation from my simple mindedness and lack of desire to really understand the predicerment they've gotten themselves into.

I know however that if my yard was taken over by the governer of, let's say Montana, and they gave it to some developer who wants to make it into condos for the Chippewa tribe and not for Oregonians, I would be pretty pissed.

But since it was ok 60 years or so ago to do something similar, then I want my piece of the Blackforest, damnit. I wanna return to my homeland, too. And while were at it, lets ship all the African Americans back to Africa. All the Europeans back to Europe, etc, etc.

I know, I know. It's silly and irrational. But I really don't understand why they have to fight over it so. I think they're all being silly and irrational. They either need to make the peace of wipe each other of the planet though. This has gone on way to long and it's bloody stupid.

And there ends my ill-informed rant on the Mideast.

hic...up!

2006-08-01T19:31:00.000-07:00

Over the years I have involved my self with two very distinct organizations while seeking out a spiritual path. Both communities are blessed with beautiful and intelligent people that I would jump through flaming hoops to aid if necessary. But over the last year or so, I have sought an individual path, exploring and sometimes forgetting about the path.

I see my pattern. I engage with a group and expend energy up the wazoo for a few years and then I burn out, seek solitude for a year and then wonder where I have gotten myself too. And then the call comes again for participation in the universe. The old gods speak and assert themselves in synchronisties, that I can't deny. I start to crave rituals and a type of magick that comes with acknowledgement of archetypes and the nature of things.

I have considered stepping back into the swing of things, but certain elements exist that I cannot concede to without denying something of myself. The other option would be to seek out a new group, but I have no desire to build new foundations, that I'll just burn out on when I've expended more resources that I have or care to give.

So I'm going to remain on my path of solitary exploration until the right thing happens to engage me in a community. But I'm going to step it up a bit. In part it saddens me, but not for want of just any community. But because some rituals are just more fun with a few extra hands. The other part that saddens me is that the brethren I want near me, are 2000 miles away.

I am by nature both a hermit and a pack animal. The balance is hard to keep sometimes. Stupid Libra tendencies.

Wicked Wanderings in the Dining Room

2006-07-31T22:44:00.000-07:00

A warmer spot and less breezy.

Recent events and readings have led me down to the well mentioned from the view of the back porch (see the previous post). The well I speak of is a metaphor for the creative spring that stirs and calms my emotional states. Creativity in the past and foreseeable future for me will burst or trickle depending on the limitations I perceive at any given time. Tonight's puking of posts bares witness to such phenomena slightly related to what is known as projectile vomiting. A whole lot, that travels quite far.

My limitations are usually perceived as coming from the outside world in an array of different disguises. There is the illusion of time, the delusion that I have something to actually communicate, the wall of distracting sounds (babies screaming, neighbors carousing), and the dust bunnies squirreling about under foot. These distractions I can sometimes recognize as just that, but most of the time they block me and corner me. I feel forced to quell the creative impulse because my environment does not fit into my standards for getting into my head. And then I spend several hours or days, putting my house in order and listening all the while to my head ramble on about random things. It's times like these that I desire a direct feed from head to a computer in which all thoughts are dumped and organized into a text document that I can sort through when I feel I have the time.

But we as a race have yet to devise such a marvelous toy and I am tempted to digress into whistles, clucks and whirling noises...

I have started playing with the idea to create yet another site in which to post short works and folklore. I have determined (in last few minutes) that a site devoted to linking pages of folklore is quite silly, as if you want to find a bit of lore, you may google your subject quite easily. And in all seriousness, I do not believe I have the type of readership that will frequent a page that I update with new links to mythic sources. There are several pages already doing that.

As for short works written by me, I need to do more research into the web publishing of essays that have have been submitted for assignments and awards. It seems that the university system may have a bit of a hand in that so I need to double and triple check what is permissible. These pieces I would love to share in a forum that can be viewed by people and perhaps start discussions. Especially my essays regarding initiation, comparative myth, body art and mortification.

But here my limitations and the "dark head" turn around and stare me down. The confidence levels pertaining to my abilities to to write cohesively and coherently shy away into the shadows of my pysche. I am left looking at my portfolio and questioning the validity of the TA's comments and my motivation for taking out thousands of dollars in loans to have my ego waxed and polished. Now, before you start posting words of confidence, realize that I recognize this demon. He is hard to banish at times, and it will become easier as I choose a path, or least realize that I am already on one.

I think my point goes something like this:

I enjoy writing and Wicked Wanderings is an outlet in which to garner a bit of feed back or express thoughts that need to be out in the world, not in a journal (that's for the ultra violence and weird shit). However, there are cycles that I go through in which I seek to define what it is I am doing and where I am going. Nights like this are why I have the blog. Nights that I want to stir the well and release the stagnation simmering within. Sometimes I need to tell the universe something, other times I need to tell you something, and still other times I just need to puke it all out. Wicked Wanderings is the perfect title for such a page, you never know what you'll stumble upon.

So here we are, near the end of third post that may or may not do anything for you dear reader and I still feel the urge to continue rambling, as there are a few other subjects that I wish to comment on in response to posts that are a week old. That's the one thing I dislike about having visitors for an extended period of time, the fact that I don't feel I have time for thoughtful responses when someone requests it, or says something I have opinions on.

And by the by, thanks for checking in to see how the well is doing and where the trail has gone, sometimes it grows dim and the trees have to much dead wood on them. But eventually there is sustenance and I can continue my foraging with a bit more vigor.

Wicked Wanderings on the Porch

2006-07-31T21:05:00.000-07:00

The dusky breeze coaxes the flames of pillars of waxen light, occasionally snuffing them out when it sighs heavily as the sun sets behind the west hills. An ambient music station streaming over the internet tickles my ear lobes and the neighbors BBQ grows more lively as the beer lubricates the hipsters inhibitions. I wait. I type. A candle goes out, I light it again. The cigarette dies. I flick open the zippo and strike at the flint, gold sparkles shimmer and die, fuck. I grab the butane lighter used to light the candles because of it's long neck. It to flickers and dies.

The fuel seems to be waning, the flames are in danger of dying. The will to continue down this path is in danger of only being lit by the cold light of the LCD screen.

This road leads to well of a wandering and wicked woman dwelling in an ancient forest on the beach of vast sea.

Wicked Wanderings made it's debut in 2003 while it's protagonist sat on a front porch of a Swede Transvestite. The woman typed out the tale of a journey newly begun. Her life recently initiated through a secret order, and lived out through ordeals of heroic proportions. She wanted to share these inspiring tales with friends and family back home. The medium of blogging as a means to communicate across miles with multiple people seemed a fantastic idea.

A year later our heroine re-evaluated her posts to a semi defunct website, and had little time to devote to redesign and revision of her flight from the den. She pondered the hows and whys of starting the page in the first place and decided that the pages needed to represent her in more ways and more aesthetically. And thus was born the Page you view now. The desire to blog wanes with the moon it seems and not always succinctly, but she keeps returning to it as a means to rant or share information that piques her interest.

The well remains even though the ivy has piled up around it and sometimes branches fall onto it, prohibiting the retrieval of the wooden bucket rotting on the ledge. Sometimes the bucket finds it's self falling into the depths of the well, only to float on the surface of the dark water, waiting patiently for the woman to thirst and come pull it from the pool of muck growing stale from lack of stirring. The time is nigh and the woman approaches the well, pulling up old dead water, so that the fresh spring beneath can bubble up.

The light of a candle has gone out, the coffee cup empty and a zippo needs filling. The neighbors are winding down, as the hour for sleep draws near. Another cup and a smoke. Maybe even another post.

How the Grrr began

2006-07-31T19:38:00.000-07:00

The electronic ring jolted me from dreams at 8:30 this morning, just 5 hours after I had nestled in and drifted off in the arms of Jake. I let the answering machine retrieve the call while I tried to recall the actors that had been playing in my head and stretched out alongside my lover. The burn of urination forced me from my comfort and I stumbled down the twisting stairs to relieve myself. Having done so, I checked the message incase there was any devience from the noon appointment. It was of no importance, some bastard calling for someone with the same first name as my father. I made the mental note to contact my dad later today and crawled back upstairs to float away into the dreamscape that entertained me.

An hour later the phone rang again and I tuned my ear to the female voice on the machine, it was my 12 o'clock lunch date. I rolled over, knowing that I could retrieve the message when the alarm would pull me from slumper at 11AM. But the noise of the outside world had invaded the dreamland once to many times. The tuning of my awareness to the machine had awoken my senses that had remained content and relaxed the first time I wandered downstairs. There was no point in tossing and turning on the old mattress disrupting the sleeping prince next to me.

Transitions of this sort usually throw me off for a bit. Showering only awakens the body. I needed coffee and planned to stop at my favorite shop on my way to meet my girlfriend. The message she had left was of no consequence, so I text messaged her confirming her choice for lunching and time of rendevous. I then checked the blogs of friends and noted that not much had changed since I had last checked them. Suddenly my brain seemed to have jump started and thoughts regarding blogging, the recent conflicts in the Mideast, sex and other things regarding dreams and myth invaded my head. I looked at the clock, I had no time for such ponderings.

And thus the 11:23 Grr post.

No worries. I told my head, there are several hours tonight in which to compose the thoughts. I even joted down a few while waiting at the cafe for my friend. But when I arrived home tonight; chainsaws were ripping down a tree and a new born screamed next door. So I did the dishes and ground coffee for tonight's festivities. I even prepared a spot on the back porch by building a make shift table out of milk crates and and a small pallet. My chores done, I grabbed a cigarette and stood on the back porch, trying not to curse the neighbors carousing and making a general BBQ ruckus.

The thoughts and opinions stirring in me today are still floating around as I wait for the distractions to dwindle to near in-audible tones. But the neighbors will go until dark or later, I still have an hour or two until I can tune out enough sound to not be feeling like the universe is trying to keep me from thinking through thoughts well enough to blog them.

The fire comes when you least expect it, after a lull in which you have craved it, and felt the embers growing warmer by the day. You start to build your fire, stick by coal, and then one day you blow to much on the red hot bricks and it flares up, only to be snuffed out by the clouds of activity flitting about you. Some call it Murphy's law. I tend to wonder if the universe is telling me to bark up a different tree.

After thought: The spell checker isn't working...

Grrr

2006-07-31T11:23:00.000-07:00

grrrrr

grr

Wicked Wanderings in the Bathtub

2006-07-28T23:02:00.000-07:00

WARNING
This Post rated E (for EWWWWWW) for blood and gore and talk of female parts

The post that makes you wonder why you even bother checking in here somedays.

1. Songs titled "Sing the Blues Softly to Me", should probably be played softly. 3-5 mins of a saxomaphone screaming up and down the scales does not denote softness, what-so-ever.

2. No cheese Gromit!

3. For my "to-do-before I (blank)" List, I add this tidbit: Seek out and perform a hysterectomy on every female who can not manage to change their tampon without getting blood on the toilet seat in a public restroom. Bleep'n bleepity bleep'n bleep, at least wipe it off afterwards! Eww!! Just freakin eww!

You are an embarrassment to the sex of our race and should be proud that I even let you play on this planet. You are the worst tampon user I have ever seen in my life. But if you keep watching me, you might learn something. Shit, you've got so many balls of toilet paper down there I'm going to have to start knocking them in just to get them out of my way. Straight down. Easy. God, you are terrible. Okay wench. I hope you are ready to take the agonizing, bitter humiliation of being spayed.

Why do people trash public restrooms? Do they leave shitty diapers on the counter at home? Or their bloody tampons for that matter? And why must they throw toilet paper and tampon wrappers on the floor? The freakin garbage bin is RIGHT THERE, 6 bloody inches from their knee! Do they really need 5 seat covers? Is their ass that big? And for bleepin sake, FLUSH! I do NOT, nor should I have to look at your filth, or deal with it. Fecal matter and blood can be lethal to me! If you left that mess in the toilet; what kinda of germs did you leave on the seat or the stall door? Eww I say Eww!

4. When I'm First Lady, I'm going to hide in public restrooms and throw my bloody tampons at anyone who can't take the extra 2 seconds to put their waste in it's proper receptacle. Wait a sec, no I won't. I'll need that blood for the anti-national holidays...

5. Speaking of all this blood, why do movies portray people in bathtubs with their wrists slashed horizontally? Wouldn't it be easier and quicker if one slashed vertically, away from oneself? Wouldn't you hit more of the vein/artery?

And here ends bathtime with the squirrel. Saxophone bad for the pysche.

Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis? (NSFW)

2006-07-27T21:55:00.000-07:00

Isn't it frightfully good to have a dong?
It's swell to have a stiffy.
It's divine to own a dick,
From the tiniest little tadger
To the world's biggest prick.
So, three cheers for your Willy or John Thomas.
Hooray for your one-eyed trouser snake,
Your piece of pork, your wife's best friend,
Your Percy, or your cock.
You can wrap it up in ribbons.
You can slip it in your sock,
But don't take it out in public,
Or they will stick you in the dock,
And you won't come back.

Monty Python: The Meaning Of Life, The Penis Song

OoK!!!

2006-07-25T23:23:00.000-07:00

look look look look look!

World eBook Fair - Catalogs and Collections
Free Access to the public from July 4th to August 4th, in celebration of Project Gutenberg's 35th Birthday

Thank you Mr. Lone Mage!!!!

My brillant idea for the evening

2006-07-21T21:11:00.000-07:00

OK- so it's not THAT brilliant...

Find the module that shows which gmail friends are online so I can chat with them...

If there isn't one, someone needs to create one. I guess there's always that jabber list thingy. still...I'm checkin the gmail from my lovely google page, I should be able to chat to damnit!

And FYI, 10 hours in 95+ weather makes my brain feel mushy. I should have picked up some beer.

Edit: make that 12 hours

Girls who want boys who like boys who do voodoo

2006-07-19T21:27:00.000-07:00

At the plastic food shopping place this evening some tall dark and handsome guy (in that rugged blue collar kinda way) caught my eye and promptly dropped it in his shopping basket, waved his manly fingers in a figure eight, saying woo wooooo abra wooo woo cad woobra or somesuch and pulled the eye out from behind my right ear and presented it to me still slimey and attached to me eye socket. I blushed and popped it back into my skull producing a sucking noise that was not very sexy or lady like, smiled graciously and went looking for lemonade. I didn't look back, I knew that we would meet a few aisles down.

While he was playing parlor tricks with my eye, I noticed that he was wearing a black shirt with some writing on it that I found amusing and which would occupy my thoughts through most of my shopping experience. It said:

I am not the committed type

Sooo this raised a question or two in my head:
1. not the "serious relationship" type?
2. not the "lives in a padded cell half the year" type?
3. not the "like to pay my mortage" type?

I'm guessing by the the amount of time he spent in front of the Hungry Man display he could be all three, but I digress... my big question was:

How the hell do you expect to get laid wearing a shirt like that? I mean come on...yes it's honest, and I happen to know a girl who might be into some nose rings attached action, but that doesn't stop the fact that a man promoting his unwillingness to commit himself to anything will most likely turn off women. Because...the female animal/human(so the anthropological types tell us)looks for a partner that can and will provide and has done so since the dawn of our perceived time. And giving said woman a appreciative look while wearing such a shirt is going to get you no where.. at least if she's worth her salt.

So I just smirked to my self while buying frozen lemonade, knowing that the non-committal guy was checking out my assests. And no - he didn't actually perform any parlor tricks, I just thought you all could use a little entrertainment, even if it is poorly written.

Muhahahahaaaaa!

2006-06-23T21:28:00.000-07:00

BBC NEWS | Americas | US fears home-grown terror threat

Yay!

Now we can have the proper government takeover we've all been waiting for.

Hey Kids! Does daddy talk about guns and bombs? Does he say bad things about your big brother Uncle Sam? Because if he does little kid, we gotta lock him up so he doesn't hurt big brothers piggy bank! You be sure to tell us if you see him near it or if he says mean things. And if he tries to sell you a Q, runaway very fast!

"Today terrorist threats come from a smaller, more loosely defined cells not affiliated to al-Qaeda," he said.
Uh huh...

yep.

Go watch Loose Change if you haven't done so already.

Then you'll understand my sarcasm and lack of funny wit. Well, that might have something to do with this DAMN COLD. Any way~love to you all and to all a safe night.

Confession #387

2006-06-13T20:22:00.000-07:00

I'm an angry person. Rather, I can be an angry person and most often choose or fall into the trap of dealing with situations in which cursing and fist shaking take place. Usually this is accompanied by phrases as "A pox on your Bum" and my fist hitting the table.

But last night an issue re-surfaced that I was not prepared for. I thought everything was ok. But it's not and the means to fix it are under way. But what happened after I heard the "news" is what I need to get down for my own posterity. Instead of grabbing my sword and a medium sized yellow animal, I restrained myself and literally fought with the steel-toed girl in my head shouting curses at the neighbor.

I cleansed, I banished, and really concentrated on that green light between my breasts...it was dirty. It dawned on me in the 2 hours I was lying in bed that I don't banish as much as I used too...if ever. I concentrate only on getting to point B, and forget about point A getting dusty and attracting little mites that tend to eat away at my sanity.

Now, I'm not saying I'm not going to be angry anymore, I'm just gonna try to turn it in to positive and creative energy. I like being angry sometimes. It scares the people away when they know I can smite them. And then I can go back to my creative endeavor and not be bothered with piddly nuances.

Someday I'll live on a mountain top, just far enough away from the other hermits I know of to pop over for drink and smoke. Speaking of smoke...

Guantanamo suicides a 'PR move'

2006-06-11T11:36:00.000-07:00

Reading this story in which American officals call the Guantanamo suicides a 'PR move', makes me feel very ill for at least two reasons.

One, apparently being held against your will for several years without actually being charged with something, is no grounds for killing yourself. Excuse me, but whether or not I kill myself is between me and maybe those whom I want to know.

Secondly, I think calling the deaths of these men a "PR trick" is an Orwellian phrase used to decieve the public... again. Yes, the deaths will call attention to the fact that there are men locked up on an island, possibly for no good reason. But it's still playing these men as our enemies, creating fear and disgust in the "con"scious of the American public. Who in their right mind would forgive you for holding them in a cage for no damn good reason other than because somebody attacked your house of cards?

Oh and Thirdly, this is convenient:
On Friday, Mr Bush said he would "like to end Guantanamo", adding he believed the inmates "ought to be tried in courts here in the United States". Ya, I believe you. It's these awful little soldiers that are keeping these men locked up or somesuch isn't it? Let's not forget your conservative compassion...

*sigh*

You know what America? When our asses get blown up again because of all the times we neglect to share the liberty and right to live with every other human on this planet, unless it is convenient for us, I'm gonna laugh my ass off. And then I'm gonna be sad, because it will the innocent that die for your deceitful, fascist ways. I can only hope that someday you take the gun to your own skulls and stop trying to assert your selves on or over everyone else.

Hrmmm I think my blood sugar is a little low, I should go find some breakfast. Try not to hate to much today, unless it's the neighbor mowing his lawn, keeping you from napping, and making you growly...ya he deserves it.

Mushy mushy

2006-06-08T19:50:00.000-07:00

Still two major papers to go and my brain and body are revolting against me. I think I had to much sugar today, and 4.5 hours of sleep...
The only healthy thing I ate today was a cup of yogurt and I can even question the benefits of that.

The question is: can I complete a paper by Tuesday while putting 28 hours of work in and take tonight to recoup from the ordeal of getting my portfolio finished and handed in today?

Brain deadness setting in. I can't write a paper when I can't even find the words to blog.

Smacky Smacky!

2006-06-05T20:29:00.000-07:00

Smacky the squirrel made me smile.

And now back to what ever you were doing. Unless you clicked the link before reading this and you are in happy smacky land.

Smokin ciggarettes and watching...

2006-06-03T00:14:00.000-07:00

dozens of 12 point times new roman font words spread out across my head in patterns resembling some sort of coherent thought regarding victorian melodramatic flywheels touting the speed limit of MY Space while little alex tells me how he learned to love the bombpay the rent the pretty polly want a cracker sits in the box marked SAFE and I die alittle bit.

I am never ever going to read about some 1890's mental breakdown again without taking lots of little yellow pills first. I'm beginning to hate lit class.

I need more brain power...there's not enough to go round. To many things...I want to nail down one, even though it has no deadline.. unlike my schoool work.. or my job.

I want to crucify this thought, spreading it out on the wall so I can gut it, pull out its intestines, find the little worm that's sucking everything out of my "knowing" and kill it by means of a very hot flame. Then I can look the splayed corpse in the face and demand it tell me what the hell is going on. Why does it insist on on needling me and tell me what the fuck IT is. Some fantastical mystical IT and I can not understand IT... At least it's not covered in mucus today.

Bedwise is right wise, my little droogs, right, right?

Unknowing Pyschosis

2006-05-30T21:45:00.000-07:00

Sweet Immolation sparked a little bug in my head that has been covered in a heavy film of mucus the last couple of days. Though I have little to say at the moment, I hope this can at least serve as a spring board for other thoughts to light up in my head.

I'm still trying to figure this all out while trying to balance a Will and Way. I want to let go of everything. But as along as I feel tied to material things and debt, I don't know how to let go. As long as fear this crap, the longer it takes to get rid of it. And that's only part of my living paradox.

When I see people acting selfishly, or in a manner I find stupid, then I get on my high horse and start barking like some rapid dog. And nobody listens. Even if I try to go about an issue calmly, people remain stupid. For the first time in years this weekend, I was so frustrated at a situation that I actually had the words "I should just snuff it" go through my head. This feeling is componed by several stresses (feeling ill one of them) and in no way do I ever intend to do such a thing unless I can take several stupid people with me. But if I take them out the world would be a better place in my eyes and there would be no need to snuff myself.

Soya... I can't hear my muse today. Maybe she drowned in mucus and pixels. It's just the deamon shouting profanities again.

A Thought

2006-05-24T19:20:00.000-07:00

All essay contests should have a separate category for War Vets who write about their experiences while in service or engaged in activities for our government.

To top it off...He ACCIDENTALLY submitted it to the fiction category. He won.

I do not know if I would have won had he entered into the correct category. It just seems so cliché to me. Young boy comes home from Iraq, enters essay contest relating his non-fiction experiences, and BAM!He wins.

I do care that he entered the wrong category, he should have entered the non-fiction category- His girlfriend tells me this. I do care that he won in the wrong category and even though going to Iraq and what have you - is not man enough to say- oops wrong category, I can't accept this.

Maybe he did and the judges where all -meh, no Bigie.

I just am saddened to know that no matter how good my essay was or how good I was told it was, it will NEVER be good enough to win over some toy soldiers story.

I'm almost out of cheese...

Midterm Update

2006-05-18T16:47:00.000-07:00

Same as the first:

They are all stupid...

I rock...

It gets easier from here because standards are being lowered. (I was one of 3 people in my history class to get an A)

So ya...

I'm gonna go find some whiskey...or tequila.

Cathardic

2006-05-04T22:41:00.000-07:00

My teeth keep tugging at my left lower lip, hoping to find the steele ring with which to gnash thoughts into. And then I scratch my nose and miss the gentle tug on my left nostril of the ring that once lived there through all of my colds, save for once, when the cold was so bad, I went through an entire box of tissue over the weekend.

This also reminds me that my wedding band broke in January. Which is not all that surprising, since it had broken once before and I have been carrying around a leather(and heavy) briefcase. The band is made of 6 skinny bands that make a little knot at the front.

My amber fell out the ring that was brought from France.

My sapphire fell out of it's band.

The only rings left are the two in my ear. And the opal ring I keep in a velvet box for special occasions.

I feel naked.

I feel alone.

The rings that adorned my face, were removed on Friday before I started my shift. I secured (so I thought) them in a square alcohol wipe package, and I swear I put said package in one of three places. A) The pocket of my olive carharts. B) the little blue pouch in my bag reserved for other things I stick in me; or C) the big pocket of my bag.

I haven't seen them since. On the plus side my bag got a thorough cleaning Saturday night.

I feel that I have come to a crossroads; and need to decide to buy new rings, or hope the old ones miraculously appear. But sometimes things look more like things then things themselves (Granny Weatherwax)and I should just leave well enough alone.

I just hope my lip can hold out and my lungs don't collapse under the inreased stress of needing my oral fix.

Chapel of Sacred Mirrors

2006-05-04T21:38:00.000-07:00

Chapel of Sacred Mirrors

If you haven't experienced this artwork, please take the time to check out this site. If you have and haven't been to the site...the Chapel of Mirrors is now available to us. I guess I will need to travel to New York one more time.

Wicked Wanderings

2006-05-02T20:45:00.000-07:00

Wicked Wanderings is kickin back with some history and Lit for a while. We are also heading into the Myth unit of my writing class, which excites me so much I need to drink beer to calm myself down enough that I may get to the papers I need to write for it. This girl is all smiles tonight as she hunkers down and prepares to get her elbows dirty with analytical thought and comparative musings.

So between modernism, general Lit and a whole lotta metaphor, I bid you good eve and I'll be back with some musings on my reasons for taking this heroic journey.

By the by... did I mention that I had my first essay of the writing class nominated for the Kellog awards? I will know the outcome at the end of May. I don't really see myself winning, just that I have been nominated me makes me feel all glowy inside.. o wait maybe I've been drinking my Abbot to fast.

Who knew college would turn me into an on again, off again alcholic? Thanks for not warning me.

Save me JeBuS!!!!!

2006-04-26T20:15:00.000-07:00

Dickinson's "I dwell in possibility":

I dwell in Possibility--
A fairer House than Prose--
More numerous of Windows--
Superior--for Doors--

Of Chambers as the Cedars--
Impregnable of Eye--
And for an Everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky--

Of Visitors--the fairest--
For Occupation--This--
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise--"

I nearly cried when she told us that we had to write our own poem imitating this one.

I never, never in my wildest dreams would have thought that my head would explode like a lotus unfolding atop my head when reading an Emily Dickinson poem. God help me. I almost had an orgasm.

I cannot do the author justice by peeling apart this poem for you as I saw it unfurl. To force it upon you would be a most heinous sin. I leave you to discover it on your own.

Favorite Poem for Today

2006-04-18T19:41:00.000-07:00

My Papa's Waltz
by Theodore Roethke

The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.

Rant for N8

2006-04-12T18:30:00.000-07:00

While on my tedious bus ride home tonight, I got to thinking about this post and Jake and X's postings about voting, our current system and the arguments put forth by people I care tremendously for.

I warn you this is a rant, and I have way to much other shit to do, to revise and make sure this all makes sense, so don't get uppity about it. I don't fucking care anymore, I am to selfish to give a damn, because IT DOESN'T MATTER. IT NEVER DID and NEVER WILL. Human civilization started dying the day we automated our livelhood.

So you want solutions do you? Tell me pray tell how the hell you get 300 million or so people to stop paying their taxes. Tell me how do you get said people to not go to work, to stand up and say fuck this corporate charade of a democracy.

Tell me dear lovers where will you be when one or 3 of us stand up for our freedom to be humans devoid of masters and landlords? Where will you be when I am cuffed, manhandled and thrown into a stone cold box and sit dreaming of the life I had outside of the bars of tyranny?

Where will you be when I am shot in the back and my bloody corpse, riddled with the bullets paid by your tax dollars, lies on the pavement? what will you do then?

The time for solutions has not come and may never come. We are to far gone to have a peaceful change. As Jake pointed out and the last 2 elect a dictator years have shown-our vote doesn't matter. When I look at the possiblities that lie ahead for us in the upcoming years, I feel a great heaviness in my heart. The revolutionary in me mourns for the loss of opportunity to do anything worth while, and grieves at the losses I must still consider. the shining examples of the 60's still ring in our ears, and what are those revolutionaries doing now?? Raiding my social security for conquest of oil fields to line THEIR pockets.

The change can only come about when EVERY american gives up their selfishness for the greater good of a country that is no longer theirs, but as long as bread is cheap and we aren't wallowing in our own fecal matter, then we can not hope to change a damn thing.

If anything, I have garnered from all of your conversations regarding this topic, I have decided that I too will quit voting. Let this country rot in the putrid filth it has created, by continually allowing our "representatives" to be bought and sold like cattle for the slaughter. You wanna vote democrat, feel like you're more enlightened? Yay you!! More power to the artsy middle class, whose bleeding hearts seek to comfort and help the poorest to stand up on their feet by taking my taxes away, instead of making sure the system works, and streamlining it, you dump more social programs on them, to keep them from being dirty little animals. Another age of temperance, is what I see, not bettering their standard of living, but keeping them moral. Whooo Rah!

Some where it was said that the wealthiest had a stake in things because they owned land and therefore they vote...need I remind you that land is being bought up because the laws are letting them? Need I remind you that you can not afford to farm 20 acres, let alone feed your family from that and still pay the man his taxes? How are you to sell your goods dear one if the factory farms can sell the same food cheaper? I can have no hope of achieving this, even though it is a dream I have had for several years. How do you propose I chose to do this and live a respectful life? How can I be free in this system? I VOTED against the property buyout by the government.. yet it still passed. How long before the only remaining parcel of land passed down through 3 generations of my family is bought up for Walmart? (YES- It lives across the highway now and the other farm is surrounded by track housing) When the people are removed from the land and forced to make do with apartments in town...then where has our power gone?

Some of you may have affected change locally, but I fail to see the greater impact. Maybe that a fews years down the road...but by then my friends it will be to late. Your government is making sure you have no recourse, slowly they are chisling away at our means. When we have no means, there will come an end. And then you can sit smug with your decaf skinny latte and see how grand it all is because the big brother is taking care of everything for you...as long as you vote, you feed this heartless machine.

End rant I have Poetry to read and analyze...oh and I have a small bit of grass that needs trimming while there's still light.

If I offended, confused, made you sigh at my lack of constructive thought, great! Fuck you. Like I said- I don't give a damn, there is no future for you anyway.

Goodnight, I'm gonna find some wine. After I mow the freakin lawn.

I Want to Rant

2006-04-01T21:14:00.000-08:00

But I'm saving it for the man when he brings down the uniform corporate branding of hourly paid employees where I work. I may purchase a tape recorder and get stinking drunk before I go in and give him the crass blue collar smackdown. I refuse to negotiate this.

It will involve something along the lines of "I won't be given up my dignity, for no pig fucking, corporate whore, sucker of Satan's caaaaaaaaaaaaawk!"

Strangely enough, I feel better all ready...

Cheers!

WTF did I say about this?

2006-03-19T09:54:00.000-08:00

Secondhand Smoking Ordinance FAQ

You fucking morons...Until you ban cars which cause way more fucking pollution..you ARE NOT even going to begin to solve our issues. I am really starting to detest this fucked up socialist nightmare of country.

Apparently I should go back to bed...

wish I had more time for whiskey... stupid work

2006-03-17T23:50:00.000-08:00

Ack!

I feel like I lack direction. This seems like an awkward statement considering that I have finals next week. My direction, my goals, here and now, only consist of getting through the next week, without to much scarring. Though I have to admit that my Philo Prof made a statement to effect of “Most everyone in the academic world, tends to defend there position, whether right or wrong, and will pick apart your arguments in order to feel superior, so that they can get their grants or work published. Rarely do you see those seeking truth for the sake of knowledge”

Great….

No pursuit of truth or progress in the name of knowledge…just give me my money Ho. Fuck it if you are trying to discover the basis of emotion or the meaning of life.. you got grant money?? NO I didn’t think so…go philosophize on the street. Maybe the homeless will listen to you.

Should I be this bitter about my first quarter at an institution of higher learning?

Hellz ya! It’s St. Patricks Day! Whiskey and Guinness for the win!!

My brain hurts

2006-03-15T20:38:00.000-08:00

It's that time of night where my brain shuts down and starts hammering at my eyes to shut. Finals are next week and then a little R&R.. I'm thinking with my 6 days off I can sit back and give y'all some juicey posts again, and keep them coming, especially since I didn't sign up for any math classes. I just hope the cramming of radicands and quadratic equations into my head sticks a little this time around. And excuse the ackwardness of my sentences...Algebra and me tango'd to much tonight.

A glass of wine and then a bath...no wait.. I'll probably fall asleep and drown. Maybe two glasses of wine then.

Not a deep thought

2006-03-09T20:04:00.000-08:00

Today I had my first experience of hearing the sound track from "Walk the Line".

Why the hell would anyone buy that?

I have JOHNNY CASH singing the songs, why do I need to have some poser singing them?

*sigh*

More whiskey...and The REAL Johnny Cash. I think I'm liking my whiskey a little *too* much, lately.

Salut!

Sugar Plums, Bah!

2006-03-03T10:35:00.000-08:00

I awoke at 4AM this morning, most likely because someone was dropping things on wooden floors. But that is trivial in comparison to the thoughts I was having at the time. I don't remember what I was dreaming, but I do recall thinking that sound was squared and I was only hearing the square root of sound. For 5 mins I laid in bed pondering this. It means absolutely nothing other than, I was half awake, with radicands in my head. The funny thing was that I hadn't done any algebra homework last night, only peer essay reviews/proofreading.

2006-03-01T19:02:00.000-08:00

I'm starting to develope a resentment towards any text program. There seems to be an annoying blinking | that won't go away.

Maybe it's because I look at the subjects assigned for an essay and for the life of me, could care less about them in an academic sense. My usual approach to essay writing involves last minute Aha! moments of receiving the first line, and I find that I'm still waiting

I have 6 options to choose from. And frankly, they all suck. The allowance for creativity within them seems lacking. I find that I'm not happy with being given to many directions. So instead I play idley with eth keyboard to give you all a taste of my brain mush, in order to stave off the inevitable.

grrr...

Back to the blinky |

Sunlight Drenched Andromeda

2006-03-01T16:58:00.000-08:00

That is all.

Circus w/o bread

2006-02-10T11:07:00.000-08:00

Another Memo that may or may not help anyone to question the reasons we have sent the kids to war.

Wandering Soul

2006-02-09T20:15:00.000-08:00

Have you ever seen your soul/spirit?

At one time, I thought I had seen it. It was kind of bluish, with a darker outline. It had an arm, maybe two; it had a back side and a head.

But I didn't see it with the eyes of my physical body. I saw it through the eyes of the bluish shade that knew the same people I did. The shade recognized the house as the one where the body lived with it's family. It recognized the body lying in bed as a something it knew intimately.

I wish this shade would have stopped to ask more questions about the nature of exisistance. Because now only this memory of the experience is the only means by which to question such things. And it's hard to shift my perception in a manner that allows me to completely divest my self of the flesh that types this.

And the question I ask then, is who is in the flesh? How does the flesh define me? How am I defining the flesh?

If I can exisit outside my body as a shade, does my body need to be alive for my idenity to continue? If my heart and brain "give up the ghost", can I still be me?

What is me? A series of experiences associated with a stream of consciousness on a linear timeline? Why does it have to be linear? Or are we stuck in this linear motion as we occupy this particular matter?

Can I ask more questions?

Is it possible to imagine this shade, exisisting with out flesh, traveling through multiple timelines? Will it meet other shades that it knew as flesh? Would it soon forget to that there ever was flesh to know these things by?

What about those others who have claimed to see the light. Were they to caught up in the light business to stop and think about what they were or looked like?

Questions...

I hesitate to say anything concrete about my experience or what theory I am developing, as it all seems terribly mystic at the moment and that's not a good foundation for me at this time. I think that to explore this further would take some dedication to a practice that I have yet been able to master. And I'm to lazy righht now to take on yet another thing.

Blue shades in the night
forgot to take in the starlight.

Oh Vanity! Who is not your slave?

2006-02-08T18:09:00.000-08:00

NSFW (foul language and possible nudity, NO NOT ME!)

I'm all for nudity, here, there, where-ever. But I think thatVanity Fair has gone and done something quite sexist (For the record, I don't like using that term). Tell me, why can't the guy be naked too?

The cover is quite explicit in it's sexual enuendo, I see no need to cloth the man. Hell, clothe the women then. And why does he get two chics? Are we as a culture starting to accept polgamy? And why is it a guy with two chics, and not a chic with two guys? I thought Vanity Fair was a woman's magazine. Is lesbianism ok? And sex between guys not? Who decides this?

I realize that I am asking reduntant questions and expect no answers.

So before this squirrel turns rabid, I'll bid you adieu.

*Edited to remove a foul demon, indeed. Or maybe it was a sailor? meh.*

Blank

2006-02-07T18:59:00.000-08:00

The short and long are all twisted together, forming slip knots in my head. The long silently snakes around and under the short, while the short tries to get out.

If the short gets out, how will the long occupy it's self? If the short remains stuck, how long before the slip knots form a gordian knot?

When will not naught knot?

Application unnecessary

2006-02-02T19:13:00.000-08:00

In anticipation for a coveted day off this weekend I have been doing a lot of homework ahead of schedule. This is the weekend in which I am to act like a proper college student by injesting mass quanities of beer, and lay around most of day, in bed, with my lover.

I spent over two hours today, doing my WR 115 reading logs for three essays. Last night I did an algebra assignment and read my philosophy. Today on the bus ride home I read more for Philo. All of this in order that I may act spontaneously this weekend.

But here's the kicker.

My WR 115 teacher told class today to read the essays due next week, but to skip the reading logs.

WHAT?

I just spent my entire afternoon doing an assignment on the syllabus and I didn't have to complete it? I could have done my algebra instead? I'm kinda pissed. And I'm laughing at the same time. I can't seem to find that happy medium of applying myself and letting go.

And on the Subject of WR 115, I have another bone to pick. And that is that of me being one of 3 people out of about 15 people that handed in the final draft of an essay. In fact I was one of the few who handed in the first draft on time. It pains me to see these people not participating in the class. I find myself day- dreaming of their failed status, and poking them with sharp things. Some of these people are also the class clowns that talk while the teacher is talking, or while we are taking a laid back quiz. In general they disrupt the class and the discussion.

*whew*

Ok I'll go do some more algebra. I just wanted to get that off my chest. Thanks for listening. Hopefully soon I will take the time to sit down and write up some deeper thoughts. Many of which have sat on the back burner, because we usually discuss them in class the following day.

Ahh Portland Life

2006-01-29T10:11:00.000-08:00

My very first earthquake!

Well at least that I have experienced while fully awake. Supposedly there was one a couple of weeks ago, at 6am or so. Even if it was that that woke me up, I don't know for sure. Anything abnormal tends to wake me up.

I should have been a guard dog.

California declares smoke 'toxic'

2006-01-26T19:29:00.000-08:00

BAN CARS!

happiness is...

2006-01-26T19:17:00.000-08:00

...having your classmates clamor over each other to have you review their essays. Because "She seems to know what she's talking about"

And the Philo Professor says...

2006-01-26T19:15:00.000-08:00

This class is helping me to formulate a theory that I am developing, that the philosophical tradition on religion may not be in touch with today's perceptions of god and religion.(verbatim)

This was met with...

...Nodding heads...

...Stifled giggles...

Which means, we get to start pointing out inconsistencies with arguments!!

Yay! no need to pop our little world bubbles! At least when it comes to religion. :)

the devil made me do it I swear

2006-01-26T19:06:00.000-08:00

As part of my afternoon ritual, I head down to a campus pub and get some fried food and beer. Normaly in this hour or so I get an assignment done or at least the better part part of one.

Today however, was an exception. I was tempted to watch ESPN on the big screen and ignore an argument about faith. So tempted was I that I completely forgot about the theosophical topic and instead watched sports.

What sport you may ask, would drive this girl to put down a 3 page article and cheer and cuss at a large flat screen tv?

The Men's Australian Open Tennis Championships of course! I can't help my self. Ever since Andre Agassi surpassed all of my teenage girl fantasies, I have not been able to NOT watch men's tennis. I cheer, I cuss, my heart races faster, I clasp my hands in a prayer like manner, hoping and dreaming for the guy I think is the coolest, more humble and sportsman like.

And predictably the game was close and the drama high. Last week Baghdatis from greece caught my eye when he was playing the same Argentian he played today. And to be there as he came from behind to win the semi-final was an adrenalin rush I had not felt in along time.

The sad part is that the championship is Sunday and I heed to be at work. This is one game that I don't think I can catch on local radio.

So there you have it. The squirrel has a weak spot for men and tennis balls. Don't try to exploit it, unless you're a professional with tennis balls. Throwing Tennis balls for yellow dogs will not work either, so don't even try.

Philo did what in the who now?

2006-01-24T20:28:00.000-08:00

Right then.

This week in philosophy class, we are discussing readings on various views of religion and what the nature of said topic is, what it IS or ISN'T. Great! I've done this for years!!!

But in way more intimate settings, with 4 or 5 people at a time, tops. This orgy of 40 or so people blandly licking at the teat of thinking makes me feel like I am totally missing out on the meat. Maybe that's not as good of metaphor as I would have liked. What I am trying to say is that, good discussion can not happen within the structure of the class, because:

A) The acoustics suck, I can't hear everyone. Nor can I see them all.

B) What the hell am I supposed to be pulling out of this shit I read? How does the author define religion. Wait I can do that one. damnit...on to C

C) Ok. This one is tough for me, because I don't want to complain, so here it goes. I get lost. The professor seems to be a bit random with his tangents, which y'all know I do all the time. This shouldn't be an issue.
I had to ask today, "what's the question?" And I think we had already discussed that topic Also, It seems that the right questions are not being asked.
Now I know this a 100 class and we aren't expected to have considered these things before. But damnit, if religion is so freakin relative or irrelative, then lets not discuss it. Instead lets look at how we are supposed to figure out the arguments.

No that won't do it either. I either want a smaller class, or more vocabulary to work with. Writing class is supposed to help with this, so I may have use my work sheets for one class to help decipher the text of Philo. I just don't always follow the prof and I think that he might get more out of me if he were to ask better questions for us to consider or ask me to write shit down and hand it in. (Oh my! She's demanding structure!) I don't know though and frankly, I don't want to assume that it is my place to know. I AM THE STUDENT. I want to learn. That's why I am borrowing a substantial amount of money.

damnit,that means more work.

Speaking of work...I want to drink coffee and do my homework!! It goes sooooo much faster and I can actually think throughly about the subject, whether it be math, or grammar, or reading about religon. The words just make more sense.

but alas, the lack of sleep last nightaffects how I process the information I take in. Today I had this feeling of my brain being gelled and information not traveling. I know what i need, but I don't have it, nor do I seek to find it. damn schedule A, telling me what I can and cannot do to my brain. Transmitters and pathways must be re-opened and allow for uninterrupted sleep.

Right then, there's homework and emails to address. I just needed to to take a break form 8 hours of school today.

Coffee

2006-01-24T19:58:00.000-08:00

Last night after ONE double espresso, I found myself lying in bed, unable to sleep. I tried all my usual tricks and still my mind would not clear. And as the hour ticked by, I started to stress that I was not getting enough sleep. And then I dozed and woke up, and dozed again, and woke up, and so on for 3 or 4 hours.

So what did I do this morning? I stopped for coffee. I fear that a cycle has begun and I really want to stem the tide of playing balancing games with my sleep, thinking abilities and immune system.

The sorry part was that the caffine induced thinking process gave out halfway through Philo class. See the next post about that.

Well damnit. I need to figure out how to force my brain into operating more efficently and precisly, with out the aid of coffee. I want sleep more than coffee, I think...But in all actuality I don't know how to reconcile this dilema. Well ok an idea or two, but that's gonna be in the next post too.

Maybe I just need to rebuild my tolerance levels.

Maybe...when I get a day of rest each week next month, this will all worl it's self out.

maybe.

just maybe.

the muse stirs

2006-01-24T00:20:00.000-08:00

Finally, a decent cup of espresso...

I have never been the type of person who can operate well on low levels of sleep. I get ornry, less horny and can be a down right pain to be around. But I am finding that sleep gets in the way of too many things, and as of late has not provided too many surreal dreams from which I can pull inspiration out of.

But, my body revolted against me not taking care of myself last weekend and literally let some giant bug into the house and let it have a party for all it's friends and the feckers trashed my lungs, my brain, teeth, nose, throat and cheek bones. A week or more after this and I still can't fully appreciate my cigarettes and have been holding steady at 2 a day, because I'm a smoker damnit!

I've only had 4 cups of coffee in the past week, and I am having to literally force myself to think about anything outside of school work and what I need from the grocery store. I hate going food shopping. Especially since I go 2 to three places, depending on need. Organic stuffs from TJ'S or the veggie stand. Anything brightly colored with a ton of sodium, Safeway™.

And of course I'm thinking to hard and misreading everything, making my homework twice as hard as it should be and taking me twice as long to do. I gotta remember to not try so hard. But hey, at least the polynominals are coming along better.

But, me thinks the lack of coffee, has a started to affect my sleeping. Today I woke up. Alarm went off. I was awake. Ready to start my day. I only hit the snooze button once. Unfortunetly, I'm not as quick or creative in Intro to Philosophy...which makes for a along 2 hours. There aughta be a place between Algebra and Philo to grab an espresso, but no. To go searching for that would make me late to class. and ya'll know I'm on time, if not early. Sometimes way early...

Having mused a little on the subject of health and sleep, I depart to find a warm nest and get a good nights sleep before my quiz's tomorrow. before it becomes less than 7 hours of sleep.

Why do I keep doing this to myself?

2006-01-20T15:49:00.000-08:00

Once a year I do the one of the most evil things, I could ever do to my body.

I go to the golden archs and buy me some plastic food.

I should no better, yes? I should know that to try and digest that crap will affect me for 24hrs? Maybe longer? That I will feel like utter crap and not feel like I've fed myself at all?

Yesterday, though...I gave in. I craved a breakfast sandwich and the promise of protein overload. It smelled so good. But alas, I was stuck with a floppy, rubbery pink and yellow mass on what should have been an english muffin.

Did it taste like ham? No
Did it taste like egg? Maybe
Did it taste like cheese? American cheese is supposed to taste like something?

So how can I describe the flavor? I don't know if I can. It seems that there was a bit of saltiness, but on the whole, I must say I chewed something with hardly any flavor at all.

How do these people continue to make money?

At least the hasbrowns tasted alright... and the orange juice was indeed juice and not Orange Drink.

Note to self: It's not worth it. Just Don't do it.

Weird

2006-01-12T19:20:00.000-08:00

Jake apparently had a dream as weird (or not) as mine was this morning. I can't remember any real specifics except that I was given a clear Tom Collins glass by a very eccentric fellow. It was filled with blood, and that it was my intention to drink it. I can't remember why, because Jake woke me up as the glass reached my lips. He tapped me and said "hey". I rolled over and asked him "what's up?" But I woke him up, he didn't remember tapping me and saying "hey."

And now I go soak myself and find some hot tea, it seems someone shoved a tennis ball down into my lungs over night.

Did I mention how posterific the seating is at PSU? ya...I hurt.

Dazed, but not confused...

2006-01-10T19:20:00.000-08:00

And I still need to do my algebra homework (polynominals oh my!). Maybe the coffee will help that.

But while I'm waiting for my coffee, I'll share a couple of things with you.

Numero Uno.
My brain stopped functioning at 11:30 am, just when the instructor started getting into the stuff I NEED to review. I didn't maintain anything from the last 20 mins of class today. And therefore have my work cut out for me. And sadly there was no tutor available this afternoon. I did find it very funny, though, that when the the instructor wrote out the polynominal on the board, my brain clicked and whirled. It then dawned on me that this was a point I had gotten frustrated with so many years ago. And I now know why! Apparently there are multiple ways to factor these equations out. There isn't just ONE way! Which was what my problem was in HS, I did it in manner comfortable to me and not the way the instructor wanted it done. Yay! Maybe I will get through this! (if the assignments don't kill me)

Number Two
Heading to a new class (Philosophy) at 12pm helped the brain immensely. I even got to be one of the "smart" kids in class today. Unfortunately, there's like 50 people in class, and 1/3 of them I already want to boot in the head. And I noticed a few strong personality types, based on their comments. Some were hoity-toity, others defensive, and others that were offensive. Then there were a few meek ones that offered what I considered "quaint" opinions. Make you want to pat them on the head and send them off to do their social work, opinions.

Numéro Trois et une Moitié
The bathrooms stink and are FILTHY! It's just disconcerting. Also, I need to remember to check fluid levels in the lighter before going to bed. It sucks to go and have your first cigarettete of the day and not be able to light it. At least this way, I had an excuse to go to the bar and have a beer before writing class :)

Time to play with numbers and read Plato.

iTunes- Hayden, Rachmaniov, Mozart...Anything classical to get my brain working!

Eve of Edjumakation

2006-01-09T17:36:00.000-08:00

And I'm terribly excited, as I round up a note book and pens, check the financial aid status, the bus schedule and what food I can stuff into my backpack and refrain from going to the store for prepackaged salt and sugar injections.

I'm looking forward to being somewhere that isn't work, but still somewhat productive. That is of course assuming that I will be able to process and regurgitate appropriate materials. Of the 5 different lichens I was told the names of the other day, I can't remember a damn one. (this is why the squirrel writes stuff down, lest she forget!)

Time to go find something to eat.

iTunes- Beatles "A Day in the Life"

new link

2006-01-05T20:47:00.000-08:00

Ok, Not that new. But to save ya'll some time, or if you have need to contact me personally and can't scream loud enough for me to hear you, please click on the link to your right, enititled, "for those who aren't pyschic."

Be warned that I don't check that address everyday, as I do not care to waste my time reading junky mail from sites that I rarely visit. So bear with me if it takes a day or two for a response. I will get back to you eventually.

iTunes "Oh Injury" Rasputina

Mac and Firefox

2006-01-05T02:16:00.000-08:00

Anyone else seem to have a problem with Firefox "blocking" Flash pop-ups that pop-up anyway? Then these little windows proceed to tie up Firefox for several minutes?

Any clues on what to do about it?

Older Work force?

2006-01-05T02:12:00.000-08:00

It seems to me that the number of people over 40 and even 50 are having a harder time getting their foot in the door at a new employer. For instance, I believe my father-in-law has still not been hired on full-time at either of the two full-time "Temp" jobs he is working.

I know that my father, if he were to try and find a job, would have very little luck. As he very limited computer skills, and can't do much labor, because of a disabling accident back in 1984.

When my Mother-in-Law looks for other jobs, she is met with resistance. And I happen to know that she is fairly skilled and very professional in her work.

Heaven forbid if my mother had to go look for another job. She could possibly get another office job, but only if she sacrifices her wages.

It doesn't make sense. If it's true that the youngest baby boomers are not able to find jobs...we are so screwed in the next 10 years. Maybe life extension isn't a good idea, if we can't figure out a way to allow our parents to feed and house themselves.
What the heck are we gonna do with all of them? I can't house 4 parents and a step-parent!!

Ya, I'm Gen X...
Where you come from is gone, where you're going to weren't never there, and where your at, ain't no good unless you can get away from it. Jesus Built My Hot Rod-Ministry

No future for you, no future for me.
No future, no future for you. God Save the Queen-Sex Pistols

Fuck Nirvana and "Teen Spirit", That's for the posers that laughed at me before flannel became "cool".

More on Antimatter

2006-01-04T18:24:00.000-08:00

Air Force pursuing antimatter weapons / Program was touted publicly, then came official gag order

Cool...and not so cool. Yay human race!

Why in the hell do we need this? Even if they are touting it to be a long way off? I keep getting these visions in my head of gruff military elite, their general caps shading there eyes...deep hollow voices(NSFW) mumbling about protecting the moral sheep and elite power something something something.

Krimey, why can't we feed and house people? I really should stop paying my taxes, if all the goverenment is going to do is act like a bunch of kids with the biggest stick.
I just don't get it. I have deep dark spots...but none so deep as to play with a substance that can blow up the entire planet. A freakin pea's worth of antimatter could blow up most of Portland! How twisted is someone to want to do that? It doesn't seem natural!