Wheeeeee.

Here's some art I did last night:



So first is this shirt I painted with a picture of this "Safari Animal" monkey that I found in my shower mysteriously. Ha. I like the way it turned out cause it looks like some sort of cave-painting or petroglyph.




This is a piece I started last night. It's done in ink, which I never, ever work in, because I wanted it to be a cleaner, more cartooney looking thing. Almost tattoo-like. Since I usually work in charcoal it's kind of um....taking forever. Also, it doesn't look very good, but that's rather beside the point. It started out in my mind as the snake and heart bursting from a rib cage but as it grew I decided it needed some tits. It's not done but I'm not really sure where I'm going with it. It just needs something more.

I will never be free, If I'm not free now...

So Raeven and I are plotting. Destruction, creation, art crimes, revolutions...you know, all the goodness. I don't know if I can ever sleep again. I don't know if I can stay here anymore. I don't know if I should.

Aside from that I stare blankly a lot. I dream of things that will never happen.

Wait...

So I just had the strangest epiphany. I was listening to a song that a husband and wife were singing together and I all of a sudden could understand why people would want that. Marriage or relationship bullshit or whatever. I'm not saying I want it, but I never could understand the force behind it before. I want someone to make art with or make music with or do any of the stupid artfag things I like to do with. I probably don't want to love them though.

I have a feeling this is going to be my night. Random blog posting bullshit to preserve my idiocy. I want to just throw it out there, in the open. Rip me apart.

Odero si potero....

Hostis si quis erit nobis, amet ille puellas.

Yeah um....loneliness is fucking fantastic. It bothers me quite a bit that I even feel this way. It bothers me that in addition to drinking margaritas earlier, since I've been home I've had half a bottle of vodka. Straight. For no reason other than I'm an emotional fucking drunk today and apparently I'm retarded enough to not mind being a cliche. Let's cry like a stupid cunt over wasted life and youth and such. Wonderful.

Being home with my sister and her boyfriend makes me feel more alone than I could possibly care to. Having only two close friends essentially at this point, both of whom have their own lives and are preoccupied with them (as well they fucking should be), isn't helping so much either. Good thing I'm probably too drunk to do anything too ridiculous tonight, because everything is rather fleeting and futile. Seeing Byron randomly today was nice though. Tiny pleasures, mes amis.

"Goddamn the day that I was born, and the night that forced me from the womb. And goddamn this town."

I have dyke hair. It is rad.

I have a car. I can almost drive it for really-reals.

I got pretty fucking smashed last night because everyone and their fucking brother was at the bar. Ended up staying at Denny's until about 4 am with Reggie.

It's weird because I was distracting myself for a while, so nothing really hit me. The past week or so I've just been pretty much hibernating in my room so things have finally started to spark in my head, to sink in and settle, to become fucking real. It's bad, but not as bad as I thought.

I really want to go see Ministry and RevCo this weekend. I doubt it's going to happen for several reasons, such is life and things.

I unpacked about half of my books. It made me start to feel whole again.

Did i waste my time? I think i did- I worked for life

Turn and face the strange, eh? I'm fairly certain everyone knows what's going on, so I don't really feel the need to spell it all out here. I'm still working on a healthy plan of distraction, intoxication, and internalization. In all of their myriad forms.

I don't think I have much to really write. There's just too fucking much changing and beginning and ending. All I can think in are quotes and lyrics, retardedly enough. I just kinda wanted to let everyone know I'm still around, though maybe not in a very accessible way at the moment. Patience children, I'll be back at some point.

Confusion reigns supreme!

So take that Chairman Kaga!

Tonight was fucking weird. Not weird in the way of Tuesday night meat-market though. Much, much weirder. I say things I shouldn't. I think I really am just a giant tease. I only mean that quasi-sexually. Some things become self-fulfilling prophecies it seems.

I'm finally done with the devil of a literary journal. I had my final meeting and revision session at 10 am. Once I got home I spent the rest of the day watching "The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy" which I'm convinced is the best cartoon ever and they were running some kind of marathon of it today. Once it got to the point where they were only showing episodes I'd seen before, my entire plan became listening to Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, and the Magnetic Fields and taking a nap. It was fucking gloriously amazing. Then I started season 5 of Six Feet Under. It's going to kill me I swear. Soooo not the show you need to be watching when you're stressed and angsty and depressed and restless. Learn from my mistakes people! And yeah, I am still stressed. I don't know why, everything is done for now, things should be calming down. I guess I haven't found a good relief......or release, whichever you choose to think is the answer to these things. Ha.

Tonight people surprised the fuck out of me. Some very pleasantly, some not so much at all. I saw a fight. It was not so much with the goodness, which should tell you something because I do love some good old fashioned violence and seem to have a fetish for "bloodsport" so to speak. Ghost-town is bringing out my inner zombie again I think. Sometimes, it's more like my inner raging fucking cunt though. Why the fuck don't I have my cave? Why am I such a realist?

Yeah I know....the real question should be: Why am I such an introspective, narcissistic retard?
Please don't bother answering that, you know other people's opinions tend to mean scheisse to me. What with my ginormous, over-enflated ego.

Now, who wants some machaca? ;)

Sé que no siempre tengo la razón Pero no he olvidado hacia donde voy Ya no siento algún temor Por que nunca olvido hacia donde voy.

Wow. Seriously, I don't know what the fuck to say. What the fuck do you really say when someone you used to love decides they're getting married? Not that this is the first time this has happened to me, but it still blows my fucking mind, every time.

I'm going to be 25 in a month exactly (well at this point it's probably the 7th, so in one day less than a month). I've never been one to freak out over aging, but honestly, I am freaking the fuck out. Badly. I don't feel old, it's not that kind of bullshit. But fuck, a third of my life (if I'm *lucky*) is over. I don't even know how to comprehend that. What am I doing? The title of this posting? All a fucking lie. It was true at one point. I think that fact just makes me even sadder. I'm so sick of being afraid, of holding back. I'm so sick of caring, honestly. If there's nothing after this, why does anything I do matter in the long run? Why am I not running wild in the streets? Why am I trying to avoid judgement? Why am I settling?

I told someone the other day that my only consolation in life, the thing that keeps me sane, is the knowledge that I can cut and run, that I can just leave, at any time. I'm such a fucking liar. I have absolutely no faith in myself to do that anymore and I haven't in a long time. I don't want to do this. I don't want to be this.

Yes, I'm drunk. Go fuck yourself.

Bound by lust From what I know Bound by lust Bound by trust

Fuck.

I don't know if I have no idea what I'm feeling or if I'm just at a loss for words over it. My stomach wants to kill me right now. They're bombing at Pendleton and everything is filled with this deep bass rumbling and shaking. It feels like my pulse. It also feels symbolic. GrrrConfusion.

Also....Die Bravura! Die!

Tonight is certainly going to be an interesting night. We'll see which side of crazy I come out on, ha.

Your ideal is a daring courtesan of genius. Oh, you are the kind of man who will corrupt a woman to her very last fiber.

Today was seriously fucking bizarre. I'm rather happy with the outcome. Joe just scared the shit out of me and now I have serious amounts of adrenaline coursing through my body. I know I'm going to be up for a while now. I came to a realization today that made me both sad and happy at the same time. These things are such a bitch.

I was pleasantly surprised by so many people today. I feel like such a hippie in my fucking lust for life, why can't I just be on heroin so I can at least say I feel like Iggy? At least it won't last until morning.

Feels like I'm on fire, it's burning the world through, Don't let me fall without someone to hold on to

I've been listening to a lot of Sebadoh lately, for the first time in years. A few months ago I was in Garth's car and "Willing to Wait" was on. It was the first time I'd heard that song since the week before Joey killed himself, when he gave me a tape of him covering it for me. Ah, teenage emotion. That was 10 years ago. Hearing it again felt like being punched, forcefully and directly, in the stomach. I didn't even know how to talk for a while afterward. I know I confused Charles and Garth at the time, kind of killed the party and all. After a while though, it just made me really want to listen to them again, though I've yet to listen to that song. Maybe I should, it might be theraputic. It's so weird the way we build up archetypes in our minds that are just so exemplified by songs. Or maybe it's just me.

We had a lot of fun last night. Mindless, ridiculous, drunken, bullshit fun. I needed it, which is rather pathetic of me honestly. Pictures are here.
There are so many pictures of Ben because Valerie had the camera most of the time. Silly kids. We won trivia again. It's almost getting annoying at this point.

I'm sick of flaky people. That pretty much means everyone, I think. I want a surprise.

"If you don't go to him now I'm never going to take you to another prom ever again"

Fuck yes Pretty in Pink was just on again. I so would have gone to the prom if it was like that, full of hot James-Spader-being-a-dick action and wearing the most unattractive dress known to man that was made during an awesome fucking working-scene and having my dorky-hot best friend wear a bolo-tie and having Orchestral Manuevers in the Dark, otherwise known as OMD, playing. Oh and also if I didn't go to homeschool for most of high school. That kind of puts a hamper on prom action I suppose.

So I found some old pictures of when I went to the Pedro Domecq winery in Mexico. I put them up here. There are only 5 or so pics, but it was a gorgeous place and I'm happy I found the pictures.

I also put pictures up from our weekend bender action here.Want to know why I'm drinking cheerleader beer, look like I'm in high school and am partying in a car parked in a garage? Exactly what part of "under the influence" don't you fuckers understand? The pictures were taken over two nights but order is for the universe, not me.

The motherfucking Bravura is making me want to kill myself. It's been the most frustrating, anxiety-filled, angry, annoyed, other bad things, year to date for it. I can't even describe the utter feeling of dread I have over it. Let's just say I'm self-medicating like mad and it's probably going to catch up with me very, very quickly.

I’m lost in admiration could I need you this much Oh, you’re wasting my time

First things first. This just gave me chills like I can't even describe. I'm smitten, I'm swooning, et cetera...

We had quite the adventure last night.

I had a dream the other night. I dreamt I was an astronaut. I was going on a "space walk" or whatever those things are called where you're outside of the "spaceship" and attatched with a tether. My tether broke. I floated around space, waiting to die. I thought about life and philosophy and things I loved. I stared at the the insane things around me that I saw as I floated around the universe. I never died. My mind has been haunted with images of this ever since. I have no idea what any of it means.

I have no idea whether I should be disturbed or fascinated by it. Right now I'm both. My mother told me that dreams where you're flying are supposed to be the best ones so a dream where I'm floating around in motherfucking *Outer Space* should be the bestest, no? I don't know that I believe her. My sister had a dream that I was bulemic and the only way I could make myself puke was by licking my fingers after picking up dogshit. That one is perhaps even more symbolic than the one I had myself. Apparently I'm quite popular in dreamland.

Everyday. Vices.

Drew the charcoal piece a week or so ago. Took the photo a couple of days ago.

If it takes a life or a couple of days, It's coming together in relative ways...

As an introvert I feel the need to ask: Why is catharsis so much easier to acheive and so much more satisfying when other people are part of it? Fucking humanity and our need to be social creatures. I spent literally all night talking to Bas, being drunk and crying like a stupid emotional girl (I'm really over this whole crying thing I've suddenly developed a fondness for, by the way). The past few days have not been good ones, mentally, and my whole invisibility is overwhelming me at this point, but somehow I actually feel better today than I've felt in days and I owe it all to ridiculously depressing-early morning-Bas's 26th birthday-conversation. I think I have more of a desire to connect with people than I'm really ready to admit.

Today is all about the songs "Born on a train" and "Take ecstasy with me", both by the Magnetic Fields. Go find them somewhere.

We were talking last night about this whole "interent presence/persona" thing. It's interesting to think about though. I don't know how well I can express the ideas around it at the moment, I'm still kind of working them out in my head. Basically, I have little bits of myself everywhere. I have profiles on pretty much every social networking site (though most of them aren't active), I have this blog, if you want to know what music I'm listening to you can look at my last.fm stuff, if you want to know what I'm watching you can look at my YouTube favourites, etc..Even the stuff I link to, the blogs of my friends, all of that builds up another layer. I try to think about how accurate it all is. With the exception of maybe 2 people, everyone I talk to online or who really read this blog are all people I know personally. I think most of them would say that I'm no more or less honest online than I am in real life. Does the sum of all of these parts of me placed all over really equal something truly representative of who I am? I know this sounds all horribly navel-gazing and self-centered, but that's not the way I really mean it to. I suppose all these uses of the first-person personal pronoun tend to do that but it's a blog, what the fuck is a better definition of navel-gazing than that? I really am thinking about this in a bigger sense though, not just for myself but for all of the people I know and the few people I don't really. *Shrug* I find it interesting anyway, I'll keep thinking about it.

The beast it cometh, cometh down....

I think if you really love music or going to shows or anything related you always end up getting asked, "If you could go back in time and see any band, which would it be?". My answer, without any bit of doubt or questioning, is the Birthday Party. Why?


(if it takes a while to load just wait, it's worth it I think)
That. Right there. I'm such a fucking sucker for the junkies.
The funny thing is...my love for the Birthday Party is completely separate from my Nick Cave obsession. Raeven once said she loves Tool because they completely speak to the agressive, masculine part of her. That's the Birthday Party for me. Nick Cave....whole other deal. My favourite song of his is "The Ship Song" for christ's sake...which is really just sappy pulp when looked at with any sort of objectivity.

So where did this all come from? I spent all morning watching the Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds "Videos" DVD and live Birthday Party videos on YouTube (well first I finished reading The Time Machine...details, details). I don't know if there's a better way to wake up, honestly. I also raided Project Gutenberg and a few other sites because having all of my books boxed up in the garage was making me sad. Now I have a nice little library on one of my laptops. It doesn't really compare to the whole sensory experience of reading an actual book, but at least it's something.

Today I'm feeling rather invisible. It's not altogether unpleasant.

It's written on the walls of this hotel, You go to heaven once you've been to hell......

Ok, I put up the pictures from both of the hotelventures....right here. Now you can all calm the fuck down about it ;)

____________3:34 pm update

Right, so. I usually just throw up various mp3 blogs and whatnot that I like on the sidebar over there---->

But this one is so fantastic it deserves its own little endorsement. Completely speaks to my whole "Brit-Mod" sensibilites with videos and mp3s from The Kinks, XTC, Pulp, etc..as well as other awesomeness. I seriously wish the Bob Dylan mp3s were still up, though right now I'm totally digging the Pixies mp3s so I suppose I can't cry too much over it. Older links tend not be around anymore, but the archives are still really interesting to read through. I love finding goodness, it makes Marie a happy girl.

Illusion, thought, choice....now only you feed my desire for deception.

Friday a bunch of us went and stayed downtown in this beautiful Italian Romanesque bank from the 20's that was converted into a hotel. We got moronically drunk. Good times were had. It was raining and beautiful and fragile. The rain makes me feel like I'm living in a dream and I could live like that forever. Perhaps that's why everything I've been writing this weekend has overwhelming Jungian overtones. It's a bit frustrating.

I find it interesting to read the books that inspire my favourite works from others, or look at the art, or listen to the music. Then I find myself being inspired by them but feeling like I haven't an original thought on the matter considering I'm being inspired by the inspiration for something I'm already inspired by. It's such fucking recursion. I've just been pulling quotes, and snippets, and bits from everything, throwing it together and leaving it until I can blow something up with it. I still really need some good fiction to read.

I'm kind of really fucking in love with this and with whoever is doing it.

She doesn't have anything you want to steal, well...nothing you can touch....

Yesterday...ridiculous...who would have ever thought that an unexpected nap could ruin one's day? Well let me tell you people, it seriously can...haha...I'm such a fucking idiot sometimes. I spent all of last night writing and looking for a "Reading Rainbow" shirt. All I found were pseudo-vintage, pre-faded bullshit shirts. I did find a "Save Reading Rainbow" shirt so maybe I'll go with that. This morning I found this shirt and really fucking wanted it until I found this one. I think I almost died from lust for it. What the fuck are the t-shirt making people doing reading my mind anyway?

So this morning was kind of fucking awesome for movie watching. Started with some Better Off Dead because god knows my life is not complete without skiing competitions. Then Pretty in Pink came on which was my favourite movie all throughout high school, which is rather funny if you think about it. I want to marry Duckie and totally corrupt him. Ha. Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion because Alan Cumming and hot guy who played Brenda's boyfriend on Six Feet Under are goodness and now Mermaids. Seriously......my life is fucking sad. Haha. At least I don't do this often.

Raeven thought I was on crack this morning. I think I actually might be.


________________4:00 pm Update

I watched "The Aristocrats" the other day and by the end of it figured out that I have a gigantic crush on Jon Stewart. It's funny because I've been watching the Daily Show forever and never came to this realization but there you go. I'm also kind of disturbed that all my recent crushes are on men. I'm going through such a straight phase it's ridiculous.

So Raeven and I really have decided that we are just going to be motherfuckin' artistes from now on. Ha. I was talking to someone the other day and lamenting the fact that it's not the Renaissance and I can't have a patron to support my artistic career. I really want to bring that system back. It would be fucking fantastic.

If it ain't Dutch, it ain't much......

So after seeing how fantabulously internet-whoretastic I am and making fun of me for it my friend Bas began asking me to make a post about him. "But why?" you may ask. "He just made fun of you for having a blog and a myspace account and for reading other people's blogs." Well the truth is, Bas loves me and really just wishes he could be as super fucking awesome as I am. Here are some other things about Bas you should know:
1. He's Dutch.
2. He's a giant.
3. He just got a haircut.
4. He wore a monkey suit with nice shoes and everything on his recent trip to Miami. Hooray for compromis(e)/ing yourself!
5. He's into MMA, which according to the recently cancelled Heather Graham show "Emily's Reasons Why Not" or somesuch shit, is the "gayest sport ever". The writers of that show have apparently never seen Turkish wrestling.
6. He needs to get laid.
7. He's lived in Alberta, Canada somewhere in the boonfucks for the past year or so.
8. Garrett thinks he is the funniest human ever, which I'm generally inclined to agree with.
9. He's very bitter and sarcastic and misanthropic.
10. He's an artfag in denial.
11. Things tend to happen to him that only happen in movies.....well, gay porn anyway.
12. He has some pretty fucking horrible taste in music, but I suppose that can always be improved on.
13. We didn't talk for like 2 years because he became a dumbass for a while ;)
14. He's a bigger nerd than he would probably want strangers to know about.
15. He has dimples....haha...somehow these do not get him laid.
16. Seriously...he really does need to get laid.

I could probably go on...and perhaps I will later....but right now I need to watch this Gael Garcia Bernal movie I just rented....because he is just the hotness.