n: vb: the spice of imagination
Today has been the most joyful day of work to date. *awe* I think I was just sent two of the most unbelievable pictures to ever end up in my in-box. I’m in trouble. Brilliant men are sending me lovely things and I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.
here’s the one from Gavool:
Bloody hell was that previous entry hard to read. Many apologies for anyone who muddled through and thank you to the people who popped on-line and chatted with me. It helped.
fuck. fucker spiked me with opium…. not exactly what i was planning when i crashed a neighborhood party. nothing ot do, spent a day waiing i ntime to be stood up. i lit a lantern and went for a walk. wit’s friday night – who’s goin got not like a bareffott girl in a tophat with a lantern… i pegged the guy when i showed up – the long bearrded older guy who’d be fascinated with me. christ. turnsd out the bastard was a chemist. it’s hitting right this damned second. so glad I got out of there before thisd. so pure it hurts to look at the screen. people are on-line with me right now. I took far far too much, I shouldn’t sleep. breathing supporessant. chrsit. typing is reallly really hard right now. is there anyone else up? he put a slab the size of my paml in the tea. not elthal, i give it ten hours but christ. i have to stay up for a few hours. i have work at noon. I’m going to read this tomorrow and cringe painfully. now I’m an idiot blpbger who can’t spell, soesn’t use punctuation aand it typing on drugs. ghods – may his hands get caught in his next lab exlposion. ahappy it was only one c\up. he gave me two twists of it, wel – little brwon balls that I tuned into twists with a recipt off someone. that’s it. i’m hitting the post button. it’s been an hour, if I was going to be in serious trbloue, i wloud be already. now to fend off apnea. fuck. I should have just accetped that i was stood up for the fifht tiem this montrh. heh. night lovelies. talk to me if you’re arond.
I’ve been a bit slack with these, but it’s not like any of you care in the first place so I feel pretty guiltless.
Artist of the Day: A Lesson Is Learned But The Damage Is Irreversible. A webcomic heavy on the painting and humour that not quite everyone will like. It’s not exactly upbeat. Think basement jazz.
also:
Anne Harper. Unhappy children done macabre on canvas.
Victory! Victory is mine! I want to jump up and down and hug people and throw confetti and burn things!
“I know I can express more emotion that laughter, anger, and let’s fuck”
Just a note: Videogame character Bloodrayne will pose topless for Playboy magazine. CNN Money article. The bar has been raised. The girls no longer even have to exist.
in other news: I am a canny bitch. The cam is now operating, though I need to hook it up to things for anyone to see.
The end of Vancouver summer is today.
Somehow there should be more angst to it. Instead there’s only empty waiting for the rain. My day is on hiatus, waiting for a few things today. Another GlobalFreeloader is coming to stay the weekend, she calls today. Robin is due on the phone as well. Socializing the autistic boy with I don’t know what today. He’s started talking about girls. I’m on-line with my painter, he’s talking about his time spent with Karen Findly and her stories of being married to Buckowski. It’s quietly fascinating, full of older men who drink too much, but not quite enough to make up for being trapped in a box for hours at a time with this pale lightless light flooding in. Not enough people on-line this morning, not enough people answering mail. Naked wrapped in a blanket, I feel like an internet orphan. I want so very badly something to do, someone to talk to. For something to do while trapped, I’ve been grumbling at the webcam again. No luck. Could always hook it back up to the roomate computer, though the cable doesn’t reach very far. My rooms terribly messy at any rate. Silks, x-rays, a shifting pile of papers and books. Nothing for anyone to see.
The painful idiocy of the war situation has finally grown to enough of a sore that Bush has begun hint at apologies. Still, note, without any word of wrong-doing. Everything has been mis-calculation and the Iraq invasion is still perfectly justified.
However, the up-coming Republican influx into New York isn’t going too well. Apparently so many people are trying to leave town in time that it’s making head-lines. There’s also been hints at blockades which “shouldn’t affect those leaving the city” due to a possible raising of the cities level of TerrorAlert from orange to red.
As well, the police response is looking rather, well, creepy.
from here: The New York City Police Department (NYPD) has dispatched hundreds of cops around the country to put some 56 people under 24-hour surveillance in advance of the Republican National Convention (RNC)… According to a report issued by WABC News in New York City, the subjects of this spying operation have been identified as “primary anarchists” by the NYPD. They are each being watched by teams of five detectives plus one supervisor, according to the television news report. The surveillance teams are being sent as far away as California, North Carolina, Washington DC and Boston… Another group of 20 police officers have been masquerading as anarchist protesters as part of a deep undercover operation.
…The NYPD showed off to reporters last week some of the latest hardware it has developed to use against protesters. Devices include an Italian-made helicopter with a ‘night sun’ floodlight, small handsaws that can cut through chains linking protesters, and a new 45-pound mega-megaphone that can be heard by demonstrators several blocks away. Known as a ‘long range acoustic device,’ the megaphone also can emit a piercing sound—like a smoke detector, only much louder—designed to break up crowds. Such devices were sent to Iraq for use by troops earlier this year… Police assigned to play the role of protesters were swarmed by cops—on foot, in police cars, on motorcycles and on bicycles—and the ‘protesters’ were herded away.
…Helmeted paramilitary police armed with assault rifles have already been deployed in nearby Pennsylvania Station and subways, along with National Guard troops, NYPD canine units and regular beat cops. Other police have mounted stepped-up street patrols.
…By denying a permit for Central Park, the city administration of Mayor Michael Bloomberg and the NYPD are inviting the kind of chaos and disruption they claim they are trying to prevent… Given the acknowledged infiltration of protest groups by New York City police, the danger of violent confrontations sparked by agents provocateurs is very real.
I love complicated whimsical music late at night. It’s possible to imagine dancing spontaneously occurring under a hundred streetlamps just out of view. I will never understand why more of the world is not awake these precious hours of early morning. The lack of humans makes it a lonely time to be aware, but oh the darkness is so nice outside my window. Just black with the occasional wail of dying alone frieght train brakes. My favorite time for that sound is the middle of the hot afternoon, when the sun is harshly burning images of everything white into your retinas. Heat rising off the pavement in blurry waves and a group of kids in shorts are learning how to skateboard when suddenly -that sound-. That wrenching at the human spirit artificial howl. It’s misplacement makes it precious in a way that it isn’t at night. On a basic level, like seeing the face of who you’re talking to, like having a voice, such sounds are allowable at night. Being alone belongs to the darkness.
Another day of nothing in particular but happy conversation. Not wasted time per se, but nothing tangible has been aquired. Arguing with the webcam for an hour got me nothing but error messages, and really, when one uses windows, those aren’t very rare. I’ve mucked with my resume as much as humanly possible as well. Now to fix the printer black. Try a pin to unglue the ink. I’m beginning to be in dire need for a second job. I managed this week with only $10, but I’m uncertain how many weeks more I can do it for.
My obscenely odd wish to go for drinks has at last come to fruition. There’s a first time for everything. No beach yet. Dominique has me snagged for fruity rum drinks. Perfect timing as the desire has faded with the rain. The sun has come out just in time for evening and burned it all away. Perhaps, I’m thinking, we could catch the foggiest edge of want. I’m going to bring the cherry kircsh because it’s nasty. Cruelty to oneself might tone down the bubbly. If this were a film, I’d wear a black and white dress and swing my arms when I walked. If this were a book, the detail would be higher to make up for the lack of content and if this were a song, I’d be singing about love like The Cranberries do. “You’re so pretty, the wa-ay you are”
Love, however, is not so much on my mind.
I am thinking about how utterly ridiculous my life can be. How it’s best when nothing ends, when moments roll after moment and there is no stillness that isn’t full. For instance, it’s possible that somewhere it’s a good idea, taking a ferret in the shower. In my head, it might be, and that was a miniature adventure. I need to live in a studio again for it really to work, I think. Somewhere with an open room watercloset. Ghods – now the furboy is knocking everything off my shelves in his excitement. He wants to curl up with me to groom but as I’ve no clothes for him to burrow in. We’re having a hard time finding middle ground.
I’m kicking him out before this degenerates into furry comments.
Tomorrow world, tomorrow I change you. Tomorrow I stand on the hood of a car and yell at people. Promise.
I’m thinking… flames.
