So guess who finally has her internet access back?
Exactly.
Finally, I can return to frolicking in cyberspace, give and receive valuable entertainment and stop wasting my time with living an actual life.
* Horace of course is brilliant. As per request, I deliver the following pictures, in chronological order of growth:
I don't think I've shown you the babybabybaby pictures, have I?
*spoilers*
These where shot by P_Mod back in... december? when Myra got her wtbq set.
*spoilers*
He was so tiny!
And we know, it looks like a family portrait. We planned on getting married just to justify those pictures but then though nah.
This one is mini because I'm not supposed to make any of that shoot public yet, so you need to keep this secret with me. The clothes I'm wearing are made by me.
And these are the newest, from about two weeks ago. He's now 7 months old.
*spoilers*
He's 19,3 inches tall and weighs 48 pounds, in case anyone's interested.
He'd also be really well behaved if he wasn't a teenager these days... he gets his impertinent 15 minutes every few days when he drives me crazy.
Oh, the wonders of hormones and children discovering their sexuality.
But he constantly invents his own games. The other day while I was brushing my teeth he first sat down in the shower cubicle, and then stuck his nose down the drain until it was completely sealed. The drain, that is.
Following this, he delighted himself in blowing dog~breath down the pipes until it resurfaced through the other drain in the bathroom floor, creating a myriad of surprisingly noisy bubbles.
Like blowing air through a straw into your glass.
It smelled like dead ass, but he thought it was the greatest thing on earth.
* Going out has proved utterly worthless this winter.
No good shows, no money to spend,...
Welcome To Gutterpunk Journalism.
Myra said:Update gefälligst mal wieder, ich brauch was zum Lesen!
Und nein, "kein Internet" ist keine Ausrede.
Scheisskopf said: I really wish you weren't gone away to ZakLand, or wherever you've gone to.
You're sorely missed.
Come back.
Myra said:Alter! Updatest du jetzt endlich mal dein Journal? Ich will endlich mal wieder was Gutes zu lesen haben. Schließlich bin ich krank, da darf ich bestimmen!
Nicoletta said: i want new pics of Horace pleaseeee
Suitsme said: I've begun to worry about you. Are you still around?
Sheena said: horace is so süss. aber was ist mit nem neuen blog?
And we know, it looks like a family portrait. We planned on getting married just to justify those pictures but then though nah.
This one is mini because I'm not supposed to make any of that shoot public yet, so you need to keep this secret with me. The clothes I'm wearing are made by me.
And these are the newest, from about two weeks ago. He's now 7 months old.
He's 19,3 inches tall and weighs 48 pounds, in case anyone's interested.
He'd also be really well behaved if he wasn't a teenager these days... he gets his impertinent 15 minutes every few days when he drives me crazy.
Oh, the wonders of hormones and children discovering their sexuality.
But he constantly invents his own games. The other day while I was brushing my teeth he first sat down in the shower cubicle, and then stuck his nose down the drain until it was completely sealed. The drain, that is.
Following this, he delighted himself in blowing dog~breath down the pipes until it resurfaced through the other drain in the bathroom floor, creating a myriad of surprisingly noisy bubbles.
Like blowing air through a straw into your glass.
It smelled like dead ass, but he thought it was the greatest thing on earth.
* Going out has proved utterly worthless this winter.
No good shows, no money to spend, and friends developing unreliability.
On one hand, I suffered from severe novelty fatigue while out, on the other I was bored out of my mind at home.
But every single time I summoned the energy to make myself glamorous, it ended with GHB in my drink, worthless fights not even good enough to brag about, unexciting people, unenergetic music, uninspiring everything, no drugs, or worse ~ drugs of terrible quality.
Everything was mediocre.
You go out, you drink, and all around you amounts to utter blandness. I can't even recall anything that happend, which shows how bland it was.
The most dispicable event occurable while going out is not "having a horrible night where a thousand horrible horrors happened", but discribing it afterwards as: "Uh... I don't know. Nothing, really."
So fuck that.
I stayed at home and made clothes.
* I vaguely remember being in London, it was a blur.
I hated it.
I hated it for spending, in four days, the same amount of money I could have lived off a month in Berlin and unable to account for where it went, simply because it went for food and a roof. The boy and I bummed everything else, and I wasn't even pleased with the fact, since mostly we bummed from Zak.
But one day Inge will be rich, and then he can take care of Zak and me, and then I'll be rich and take care of Zak and Inge, and I want to include Adria in this list, when we all meet in Nowosibirsk or Sao Paulo or Algier.
It was just all scrambling around with nothing working the way it should and fading from one clump of drunk people screeching in high pitched voices into another. And art people.
I did, however, cut this ugly guys hair in the middle of the club after Zak's show. I was desperately necessary and I had nothing else to do.
Observe:
He looks so happy! That was probably the closest he got to a woman in years. During the process, he kept worrying what his mother would think.
Charley said she saw him a few weeks later and he looked exactly the same, he had done nothing to minimize the damage I had done. Pretty funny.
I don't know whether they where all scared, since I was still there, with scissors, but everyone agreed it was such an improvement.
Now that I type this, I remember I was so convinced by my altruistic motive that I made the effort to march back through half London to "borrow" the scissors from a pub we'd passed earlier. I was really drunk.
But the only really pleasant thing was visiting Manko and just drinking and smoking all her strawberry cigarettes from Tokio.
Seriously, thanks for that, it was the only episode which was stress free and enjoyable.
This sums up the entire journey:
* This one time my relatives in the US brought me two starfish they had scraped from the bottom of the sea while collecting lobster and such, and in a joyous frenzy i dumped about a pound of salt into their bucket.
I mean, they came from the ocean. And stuff.
I was eight.
Myra and a friend, borderline sociopathic, used to build the "bumblebee park" with little trees and grass and pools and tiny cardboard houses.
To prevent them from flying away they cut off their wings.
When Inge was a kid, he built this slingshot and fooled around with it in the yard, randomly shooting pebbles in every direction.
At some point, he heard a thump and a little bird dropped dead out of a tree.
He hadn't aimed at it, he hadn't even known it was there. He started crying.
Please tell me your tragic unintentional child animal slaying stories.
And if you tell them to me without a pang of regret in your heart, you are a useless piece of shit. I want accidents, not stupidly glorified recounts of your pseudo conduct disorder.
* Besides all that, I went to Barcelona to do porn without fucking. It was porn because other people fucked.
It was a fucked up, draining, bizarre, somewhat noteworthy and sometimes funny out of desperation experience, which I honestly mostly recall as a blurr of substances and intellectualizing of the matter.
I don't even know if I was there.
Or what really happened, exactly.
Or if I want to see the result.
EDIT: Nevermind, I saw it. It's hilarious. And I look like an annoying bitch with a pubescent attitude. Which is probably very close to the truth.
I shouldn't even have mentioned that, Albertine will snicker, DeeDee and Ira will go "Oh jesus..." and ZakSmith will get mad at me.
* Hey, naked pictures!
My friend Cat took these picture for a school project. They are the most stripped down naked and bare pictures of me that exist. I have no make~up, no clothes, no done hair, no jewellery, no poses, no photoshop.
Enjoy.
And while working.
And my favorite:
* And here you go, because sharing is caring. Especially with awesome music, beautiful people and radically avant~garde set designs.
mein tier-geschichte aus der kindheit: ich habe immer regenwürmer von der straße aufgesammelt, damit niemand drauftritt oder ein auto drüberfährt. dummerweise hab ich sie in meine jackentaschen gesteckt und dann vergessen, meine mutter hat sie immer gefunden, wenn sie die jacke waschen wollte
" ....he first sat down in the shower cubicle, and then stuck his nose down the drain until it was completely sealed. Following this, he delighted himself in blowing dog~breath down the pipes until it resurfaced through the other drain in the bathroom floor, creating a myriad of surprisingly noisy bubbles. Like blowing air through a straw into your glass. It smelled like dead ass, but he thought it was the greatest thing on earth. ..."
baaahahahaha....
man sieht leider nicht ganz richtig, was du jetzt mit den haaren des typs angestellt hast. so immer mal ein stück rausschneiden und dann wieder ein stück lang lassen?
wo ich deine schneider-fotos sehe:hast du eigentlich einen neuen laden vor, bzw. bereits wieder einen im auge?
Ich bin übrigens gerade dabei, den entwickelten Film zu scanne, auf dem auch du, Inge und die Hunde drauf sind. Das einzige Problem ist, dass ich mittlerweile die Weinflasche von der Küche an meinen Schreibtisch verfrachtet habe und im Grunde zu betrunken bin, den Negativfilm in die Scanschablone reinzukriegen. Aber ich schaff das noch.
what what...ich würde das bild mit den klamottis gerne in größer sehen, sieht sehr vielversprechend aus. keep me updated on this. . Und horace macht sich anscheinend gut als model tehe.
die arbeitsfotos are tres cooljo, das hier sieht so aus wie : "mhhh..ich hab da einen knopf vergessen". (scheiße...natürlich fällt mir jetzt kein coolerer spruch ein) .
woha, ich will auch mal so großartige fan-art bekommen, aber bisher hat noch nicht mal wer ein strichmännchen für mich gezeichnet mähhhh.
my favourite satz aus diesem journal:
"It smelled like dead ass, but he thought it was the greatest thing on earth."
ich bin viel zu faul zum rumstehen. auch beim duschen. (in spätestens 10 jahren werd ich bestimmt einen prima breitgesessenen flacharsch haben. yippih )
aber ich puste nicht in den abfluss!
zu hause arbeiten ist sowieso viel cooler! und verkaufen kann man übers internet. website kostet auch nicht so viel wie ein laden.
wenn irgendwann mal das geld da ist, kann man ja auch einen laden mit hinten angrenzender wohnung mieten. weil: arbeiten zu haus ist so cool! (ich glotz immer ewig lang meine kaninchen an - beide käfige stehen neben meinem schreibtisch/computer - und schau ihnen beim schlafen zu. das ist so niedlich )
Mäh ich teil mir grad ein Netzteil mit Ron, meins ist abgeraucht. Und weil ich grad nicht dran bin hab ich bloss mein telefon. Muss wohl später noch mal wiederkommen. Fluch der Technik. Mäh.
Allerdings muss ich dich vorwarnen: Die Bilder sind so obercrappy, dass es kaum bearable ist. Man sollte sie wohl eher als unbeabsichtigte Kunst denn als Abbildungen der Wirklichkeit betrachten
child pet storys?
I dont have any. But my granpa, he had a pet budgie. For some reason he decided that its beak needed trimming. So he gets out some scissors/cutters....and snip. Half the beak comes off. The budgie drops down dead.
He is upset about this and decides he is going to bury it in the garden in a tobacco box. He places it inside and thinks "i will do it later when it stops raining"
5 mins later he hears a noise in the kitchen and on investigation finds the tobacco box trying to take flight. The Budgie had just passed out and was now trying to fly inside the box.
Budgie (and Granpa) were both alright in the end.
IPOD
RADIO
PICS
mähhhh.
) 
