n: vb: the spice of imagination
We are bringing back corn. Many, many pieces of corn. Ears that were plucked from the stem just today. People are required to join us for Corn-Fest. This corn is so very tasty think of it as an attendance mandatory event.
Sunday
6pm
my place
if you need bring anything, bring things what are tasty with fresh lovable corn.
mon: Up too early to non-existant ice-cream. ian had lied. he is now first on my list. the odds are swinging into my favour. we drowsed on the ferry to vancouver island. ethan asleep was a target, but perhaps he still might be useful. keep that one for later. on the highway, safe in the back of the car, I took my nap. finally at denman, the tent is set up and the cabin explored. there is not much here. treees, some water, same as the city, really, minus the things to do. we visit the main store and choose a terrible movie. we are in like mind on this one, none of us are awake enough for anything requiring thought. we chose perfectly. the latest james bond movie is not only improbable every minute, but contains scenes like the lazer disco fight sequence. this is not a bad movie, this is teh flim. has to be seen to be believed. don’t do it. save yourself. aie.
tues: we take a walk out to sandy hook island. it used to be a military base. perhaps there will be useful weapons. the crossbow is an option, especially as I have been waking before everyone else, but somehow, it is the obvious way and so therefore the least interesting. it is a long walk over water and desert all at once. the sand flats are odd. the island less so. simply and island full of camping non-entities. ians father has come upon the scene. everything shifts as we find a common enemy. he is now the one to go first. in the evening, we watch the ring.
wed: I am snubbed by a llama. this makes me sad.
wed: we walk through trees to eagle rock. the seashore is amazingly interesting. there are animal living in among the compressed stones. bright purple sea stars attached to the underside of vast climbing monolioths of sedementary rock. the water was green and rich, inviting, and beautiful. eagle rock is like a rock sculpted by a madman. the water has created holes and lace in the raw rock with salt deposits glittering randomly. Later we set out in the canoe. Ian could have been pushed in, but the effort of dragging the canoe out with only the two of us seemed too much to be worth it.
thurs: tensions are rising slightly though father is gone. I suppose disposing of such things increase stress.
So I’m hearing from Ian that Victoria and Kyle are running a deadpool on the camping trip. I simply had to ask and apparently, Kyle is betting that Ethan and I kill Ian, whereas Victoria is betting that Ian survives, I’m maimed and Ethan is dead.
I think Kyle’s theory has a bit more humor in it and that Victoria’s a bit more Hollywood.
What are your thoughts?
The Hanged Man says:
K. Let me know when it is in hand. Also: Does being ready for around 8:30 AM tomorrow work for you?
camping mon – fri says:
oh christ
camping mon – fri says:
okay
“ Taking two popular icons and pitting them against each other is part of a grand tradition in film, whether in Freddy vs. Jason, The People vs. Larry Flynt, Kramer vs. Kramer or Star Trek V. The Final Frontier. Opening today and following in these films’ deep footsteps is Alien vs. Predator.
Never, though, has your local cinema seen a pairing like this. The coiled intensity of the Predator and raw passion of the Alien make for sexual tension so thick you can barely slice it with a shoulder-mounted laser bazooka. This is the feel-queasy monster love story of the year, a tale that makes Van Helsing look like Van Wilder. In terms of excitement, it’s all the Alien movies added up and multiplied by both Predators. “
Alien VS Predator: the film we missed
If this was the movie, I would have been first in line.
Tonight is SinCity. I’m hoping people will be there, but I’m hoping more that the laundry load with my underwear gets some time to dry before I head out the door. I am going to attempt to wear my little silk nightgown with my fishnets tonight. Not only is the hem above my knees, this is in fact the shortest thing I think I may have ever worn. When I say ever, I include being home alone and wandering around in tiny towels. Let’s put it this way: My coat is a full foot longer than this blue silk. I’m a wee bit scared. I remind myself that bravery is synonymous with stupidity and I tell myself to change. If laundry is done in time, I just may. If not, I will force myself into anime pigtails just to top the fear as much as possible and ride it out. Think of it like any other costume, (in spite of it showing above my knees), and leave attempting to feel brash. Really, it’s masochistic, but I’m trying to deal with some fairly strong ingrained prudishness.
Jump in – it’s only fire.
On some level I feel I deserve this. I scare people all the time, it’s damn well my turn. I look someone in the eyes and I hit them with thier own desires. No-one should ever be able to accuse me of playing with such things. I should carry them and hard. This is my come-uppance. My fronting for the words. I can be just as strong as I feel. Clench my teeth. Bite, hit, and punish this fear.
If I remember, I will have more certainty than you do. I will stare those demons down.
Our house is a house of language, ideas. This text and that music. My house is a place of no worship, but my gods will win. I have remembered how to smile. This child has not grown up, but this child, this child, oh! Let her grow claws. Let her take fangs and create a devil in red. whenever i’m alone with you, you make me feel like i am whole again I am wanting friends to be there tonight. Not people, not even simply friends. I want the older ones there. Experienced in ways that can see maybe who I’ll be someday. The ones that know me just well enough to have had to have me walk on glass next to them. The people that will note and repect that I don’t want thier helping hands, but appreciate them through hissing breaths. i’ll always love you It would be sweet to be able to dance through this. By the end of the evening, I want to be able to walk my way deathly through Upper Crackton without a glimmer of nervousness. I will be more aware of them than they are of me. I want by the end of this night to know I can do this and do it well.
Once when I was seven I went to a fosterhome.
I could trust you if I want to.
I went to write a letter today to someone and instead I seem to have spit out a tiny piece of fiction. I haven’t touched this at all. No editing. Barely a scan to check for spelling errors. Any thoughts?
*launch the accordion solo*
“This… you know what this is for”. She looks pointedly for a moment of silence at someone in the audience. Her dress is uninteresting but the way she holds the look says she wants you to want to find out what she could do with what’s underneath it. Then the voice begins. Her singing is a mix of spoken word and passionate scratch. Whisky voiced singing. Losing the notes singing. Suddenly, you are bored and feel like leaving. There’s nothing here you haven’t heard a hundred times before. You stretch a bit unobtrusively where you stand at the back and sneak a planning look at the exit across the room. Would it be better to wait until she’s done or simply walk out hunched over in front of everyone? You start to contemplate routes and it hits you. Being outside is an improvement, but you don’t even want to hang around. Your friends are in the next set, but it’s not even worth it. Outside the air is cooler. After the heat inside, it’s more than refreshing. You do it, just go. You know the girl on stage has seen you, but you don’t care. The look at the beginning wasn’t for you. She’s looking for someone to leave money on the table in the morning and last time it was supposed to be you, but last time you made certain she knew you weren’t interested. There’s people standing in the doorway, but it’s only a second to slip past them. The sky above is dark and you look up, letting the blue sooth your thoughts. Your arms involuntarily reach for the sky and you slip your shirt off over your head. The smokers give you a look, but you simply tuck it into the belt of your blue cut-offs. It’s the summertime, what should they care. Desire – you want to be out of this city. You want to be somewhere the streetlights don’t burn quite so orange. There’s a girl waiting for you out there. Now her it’s nice to see naked. You even know her name, but she’s somewhere far away. She’s next to the ocean, over the mountains. For a second you remember a snippet of your last conversation with her and you smile. It’s funny how life flows sometimes. You realize as you walk away from the club that you left half a beer unfinished on the counter and it doesn’t matter. You’re not going back.
So it seems that some of the people I added because I thought they seemed like intelligent and fascinating people have added me back. Welcome! I do hope my entries hold even a tenth of the interest as yours do for me.
artist of the day:
It’s 6:oo in the morning almost to the dot when I come home and I am JUST realizing that this evening I help Dominique move. *smacks head* AND I have a party tonight. Lucky I guess in that the party is a geek thing and will be only a few blocks away. It’s over at Hawk and Pender, so walking distance. Wish it were a real party, but then again, work tomorrow. Damn. And SinCity tomorrow. Then Sunday, which is work then straight to Silva’s goodbye to her home party, then leave early Monday for Denman. This might hurt a little. Like, maybe more than a little. *shakes head* I dance quite a bit more at SinCity than I do anywhere else. Fetish nights let me dance howsoever I feel like. *wicked* It’s a wee bit more exercise that way.
The Freethinkers Social started off with the Directors Cut of Bladerunner, (I’ve never seen the other version, though it’s on my list), and eventually everyone was picked off one by one by the sniper Hours, and Ian and Bob and I were the last out. I come back to my box to on-line with Dean making atrocious pedophile jokes. Apparently he is up at such an atrocious hour to spend time painting with little ones. I said I would get up so early just to go spend time with him and the children. I can’t think of anyone better to spend time with kids.
Purely Electronic says:
we play the ‘lift up your shirt game’
Purely Electronic says:
and….’naked movie star’
So far, it’s a good start to a day.
*laughter*
Except, well, Ray isn’t coming camping.
For those unaware, I have madly agreed to a Mon-Fri week at Denman Island with Ian and Ethan. This will be a delightful week in delightful company, but I expect to be intellectually picked on at least once an hour and for there to be enough pedantics to perhaps flatten souls. There will be no purity in this trip. Wit and sharp scathing hormonal girl. This has the potential to be special like a unique case-study murder. I have not been camping for years. I had in fact half forgotten that such a trip was in the works. I assumed it was not this week but the next. We have yet to scrounge a tent. I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I were one of those people that required organization and more than ten minutes to get out of the house. This girl already knows she’s in for four in the morning laundry and tossing stuff into a bag unplanned last minute. Toothbrush, check, bloodrags, check, four foot lizard, check. Everything else is up to chance.
I kid, but I’m not actually worried. Course, it’s also looking like I never actually worry about anything. This in itself is worrisome or I’m starting to think my lack of worry is an indicator I know something I don’t. *grinning* I’m also thinking I should never stay up existing for two days soley on Kyle’s brownies ever again. Manic does not equal sleepy. I’m going to have to go out and get choco-covered esspresso beans again for when I need to get to sleep. This is slightly silly. I knew as soon as I lie down and closed the eyelids, dreams will flicker happening and I will be swept off, my soul let to roam free in my City.
living will happen one day she says:
what are you doing up? it isn’t safe to be out right now. this is when the dead roam the earth
living will happen one day she says:
soulless dead who rot piece by piece in little boxes
I think they call them cubicles
1. The Lord of the Rings, JRR Tolkien
2. Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austin
3. His Dark Materials, Philip Pullman
4. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams
5. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, JK Rowling
6. To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee
7. Winnie the Pooh, AA Milne
8. 1984, George Orwell
9. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, CS Lewis
10. Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte