IPOD
RADIO
PICS
80% of all animals are insects.
They belong, along with spiders and crustaceans, to the arthropods. As we all know, they are the semi-secret rulers of the world. These individuals amount to the striking number of over 10²°, most of them - 350,000 - 400,000 - being bugs. Butterflies follow with ca 150,000 species and third largest group of 100,000 are those other dermal-winged like flies, mosquitos and wasps.
Their body size varies from 0,17mm (which is tinier than this comma: , ) and 35cm, which is larger than the average forearm.
Insects don an exoskeleton made entirely of chitin which we eat on smarties, and is categorically composed of three sections: head, thorax and abdomen. This multilayered exoskeleton offers perfect protection, crunches audibly while squeezing out slimy mucousy insides through multiple fractures only when chrushed by something a million times heavier than itself - say, a human foot. It's surface incorporates all sensory organs necessary for the perception of light, pressure, temperature, wind or smell, and it makes me want one of my own.
The head is equipped mostly for the intake of nourishment, and perceiving and processing certain impulses. The mouth is a vast array of just tools for chewing, stinging and sucking, which again is completely awesome and something I want.
The thorax sprouts three pairs of legs and, depending on species, one or two pairs of wings. I could do without the extra legs, personally. Even if they're developed for walking, grabbing, digging or swimming.
The abdomen, surprisingly, contains all things needed for digesting and reproducing.
The nervous system is a structure of the central nervous system and the peripheral nervous system. (sensory and motoric neurons). Occasionaly, the intestinal nervous system is difficentiated.
The cns of insects is composed, remarbably, of 10^5 - 10^6 neurons, as opposed to 10^10 in humans. It lies, in rope-ladder form, in the belly. Observe:
(note the fabulously grand hammerhead-brain on the far left.)
There are, for the body parts, correlating nerve-areas, usually the brain, thorax-ganglion and abdomnial ganglion. It's pretty obvious what they're there for, no need to elaborate, except one thing: From these ganglions, the periphery nerve forks into the body. But observe once more, the coolest graphic in the world:
An insect's brain's building blocks are composed, as in any animal, of neurons, which are made essentially of dendrites, cell bodies and axons. These axons however, do not posess a Schwannsche Scheide, whatever that is in english. Go figure it out, I'm not your tutor. You find, duh, sensory neurons for sensory organs and motoric neurons for muscles and glands, in the periphery. Axons are also bundled into nerves. (view Traktus opticus or Antennennerv above).
I could go on and on about this in detail but this is not what I'm getting at.
Looking at all of the above, there is no reason why insects would or could not feel physical pain.
There are however, numerous experiments undertaken by just about every kid in this world (and a few biology, neurology and other professors) that imply the opposite. If a bee is dunked into sugar water and decapitated, her head will continue lapping up the sugar water. If cricket's leg is torn off, it will grow a new one with the next sceletal shedding.
Great. But what this tells us is that a) selective body parts function autonomously in insects, and b) they have an uncanny ability to regenerate limbs.
Is physical pain an essential part that constitutes these mechanisms?
It is pretty much established that animals in general feel pain. Why would insects, as the only subcategory, lack this feature? Pain is the most useful instrument in learning not to die. Then again, insects do not tend to have the longest lifespans on this planet, they just reproduce by the billions. Who needs a long life expectancy when you can just have thousands of kids in five minutes? And more to the point, if they feel pain, why do insects keep repeating their same stupid mistakes?
Isn't the purpose of feeling pain that you learn from it?
We could, of course, just make it easy on ourselves and go with Aristoteles view of the world. All life on earth is subject to a strict hierarchy, peaking in the white, greek male. He is the one closest to god with the highest degree of intelligence and reason. (I'd like to that thesis proved on the beaches of greece, where a plethora of these exemplars can be viewed as the hairiest, fat-belliest demi-gods in the tiniest red bathing thongs.) Second to white greek men are white greek women (woohoo), then it declines towards the barbarians and the beasts. Naturally, the lower the species, the more at mercy they are and exist for the sole purpose of serving the higher evolved. Not by free will, of course, but by the will of god. The hierarchy continues into the beast-world and thus, insects are the lowest of the low.
So even if they do feel pain - who the fuck cares?
This belief seems to have stubbornly carried itself into the 21. century, even though it is proven that insects are equipped with all they need to feel physical pain, and even though it makes no sense by evolutionary logic for them not to. At least to the tiniest degree.
But who the hell knows? Scientists and philosophers are arguing this point, as they argue everything, and we'll just have to wait until we, as the most highly developed and intellectually superior of all, are smart enough to figure out, scientifically or not, or at least agree on some sort of conclusion, as to whether the lowest of the low posess the most elementary.
Okaaaayyyy.
So where's my point? Nowhere.
I'll just continue to believe - as opposed to knowing - that insect DO feel pain, but I can still kill them by electrocution with the tennis-racket shaped torture instrument that shoots a current through the wire grid and is designed for exactly this purpose. Frying insects. Because they annoy the fuck out of me, and, in a darwinistic sense, I am completely superior. Also, this is the conviction I have based my life upon anyway - If someone annoys the fuck out of me, I will stop them from doing so. Death by electric shock is still one of the more humane deaths imaginable.
And I like watching them burn.
They belong, along with spiders and crustaceans, to the arthropods. As we all know, they are the semi-secret rulers of the world. These individuals amount to the striking number of over 10²°, most of them - 350,000 - 400,000 - being bugs. Butterflies follow with ca 150,000 species and third largest group of 100,000 are those other dermal-winged like flies, mosquitos and wasps.
Their body size varies from 0,17mm (which is tinier than this comma: , ) and 35cm, which is larger than the average forearm.
Insects don an exoskeleton made entirely of chitin which we eat on smarties, and is categorically composed of three sections: head, thorax and abdomen. This multilayered exoskeleton offers perfect protection, crunches audibly while squeezing out slimy mucousy insides through multiple fractures only when chrushed by something a million times heavier than itself - say, a human foot. It's surface incorporates all sensory organs necessary for the perception of light, pressure, temperature, wind or smell, and it makes me want one of my own.
The head is equipped mostly for the intake of nourishment, and perceiving and processing certain impulses. The mouth is a vast array of just tools for chewing, stinging and sucking, which again is completely awesome and something I want.
The thorax sprouts three pairs of legs and, depending on species, one or two pairs of wings. I could do without the extra legs, personally. Even if they're developed for walking, grabbing, digging or swimming.
The abdomen, surprisingly, contains all things needed for digesting and reproducing.
The nervous system is a structure of the central nervous system and the peripheral nervous system. (sensory and motoric neurons). Occasionaly, the intestinal nervous system is difficentiated.
The cns of insects is composed, remarbably, of 10^5 - 10^6 neurons, as opposed to 10^10 in humans. It lies, in rope-ladder form, in the belly. Observe:
(note the fabulously grand hammerhead-brain on the far left.)
There are, for the body parts, correlating nerve-areas, usually the brain, thorax-ganglion and abdomnial ganglion. It's pretty obvious what they're there for, no need to elaborate, except one thing: From these ganglions, the periphery nerve forks into the body. But observe once more, the coolest graphic in the world:
An insect's brain's building blocks are composed, as in any animal, of neurons, which are made essentially of dendrites, cell bodies and axons. These axons however, do not posess a Schwannsche Scheide, whatever that is in english. Go figure it out, I'm not your tutor. You find, duh, sensory neurons for sensory organs and motoric neurons for muscles and glands, in the periphery. Axons are also bundled into nerves. (view Traktus opticus or Antennennerv above).
I could go on and on about this in detail but this is not what I'm getting at.
Looking at all of the above, there is no reason why insects would or could not feel physical pain.
There are however, numerous experiments undertaken by just about every kid in this world (and a few biology, neurology and other professors) that imply the opposite. If a bee is dunked into sugar water and decapitated, her head will continue lapping up the sugar water. If cricket's leg is torn off, it will grow a new one with the next sceletal shedding.
Great. But what this tells us is that a) selective body parts function autonomously in insects, and b) they have an uncanny ability to regenerate limbs.
Is physical pain an essential part that constitutes these mechanisms?
It is pretty much established that animals in general feel pain. Why would insects, as the only subcategory, lack this feature? Pain is the most useful instrument in learning not to die. Then again, insects do not tend to have the longest lifespans on this planet, they just reproduce by the billions. Who needs a long life expectancy when you can just have thousands of kids in five minutes? And more to the point, if they feel pain, why do insects keep repeating their same stupid mistakes?
Isn't the purpose of feeling pain that you learn from it?
We could, of course, just make it easy on ourselves and go with Aristoteles view of the world. All life on earth is subject to a strict hierarchy, peaking in the white, greek male. He is the one closest to god with the highest degree of intelligence and reason. (I'd like to that thesis proved on the beaches of greece, where a plethora of these exemplars can be viewed as the hairiest, fat-belliest demi-gods in the tiniest red bathing thongs.) Second to white greek men are white greek women (woohoo), then it declines towards the barbarians and the beasts. Naturally, the lower the species, the more at mercy they are and exist for the sole purpose of serving the higher evolved. Not by free will, of course, but by the will of god. The hierarchy continues into the beast-world and thus, insects are the lowest of the low.
So even if they do feel pain - who the fuck cares?
This belief seems to have stubbornly carried itself into the 21. century, even though it is proven that insects are equipped with all they need to feel physical pain, and even though it makes no sense by evolutionary logic for them not to. At least to the tiniest degree.
But who the hell knows? Scientists and philosophers are arguing this point, as they argue everything, and we'll just have to wait until we, as the most highly developed and intellectually superior of all, are smart enough to figure out, scientifically or not, or at least agree on some sort of conclusion, as to whether the lowest of the low posess the most elementary.
Okaaaayyyy.
So where's my point? Nowhere.
I'll just continue to believe - as opposed to knowing - that insect DO feel pain, but I can still kill them by electrocution with the tennis-racket shaped torture instrument that shoots a current through the wire grid and is designed for exactly this purpose. Frying insects. Because they annoy the fuck out of me, and, in a darwinistic sense, I am completely superior. Also, this is the conviction I have based my life upon anyway - If someone annoys the fuck out of me, I will stop them from doing so. Death by electric shock is still one of the more humane deaths imaginable.
And I like watching them burn.
Go on, I dare you. Read it all. There's a surprise at the end looking something like this:
(Ah yes... throwing bait here is so simple...
)
-----------------------------------------------------
Block A. So what's the difference between a rule, law, prohibition, and commandment?
RULE: "...just a guideline for one's conduct of behavior, what you can and cannot do within a social context"
"...a prescribed guide for conduct or action...an accepted procedure, custom, or habit"
LAW: "... is very similar to a rule but more specifically with legal aspects to it."
"...a binding custom or practice of a community, a rule of conduct or action [...] formally recognized as binding or enforced by a controlling authority - the whole body of such customs, practices, or rules"
PROHIBITION: "... is just the prevention, or more specifically, the legal prevention, of something."
"to forbid by authority"
COMMANDMENT: "... is like a law, but with biblical connotations to it."
Block B. What's the difference between love, affection, infatuation and habit?
LOVE: "... involves a deeply intimate and emotional connection with someone (or something for that matter)."
"...reaches deep into your heart and gut and involves it all in an exillerating and emotionally binding pact that literally pains you (but doesn't physically, in and of itself, ruin or disable you) to break"
"strong affection for another...attraction based on sexual desire, affection and tenderness felt by lovers...admiration, benevolence, or common interests, warm attachment, enthusiasm, or devotion"
AFFECTION: "... is a usually a physical (or verbal) expression of one's fondness towards another."
"...warm feelings that you have for someone where you don't care so much that they leave or stay though you appreciate them (or parts of them anyway) when they're there"
"...a moderate feeling..."
INFATUATION: "... is more of an immediate (and most often short-lived) physical attraction towards another. It tends to be considered a superficial feeling compared to love. However, it can easily lead to a false sense of love."
"... burning erotic feeling, mostly of the loins, that reaches into the other extremities one of which is the brain and makes a person think that they can't live without another... does not wretch your heart out when you leave them but much like an addiction leaves you wanting even after all that you've been through"
"... cause to be foolish, deprived of sound judgment... to inspire with a foolish or extravagant love..."
HABIT: "... is just a behavioral tendency done by oneself with or without their own cognizance of it."
"...sometimes consciously born of necessity rather than like or pleasure, used to save time and go through life without having to think of the things you are doing therefore saving time and mindspace for thinking of things while you are simultaneously doing others."
"a behavior pattern acquired by frequent repetition or physiologic exposure that shows itself in regularity or increased facility of performance...has become nearly or completely involuntary"
Block C. What's the difference between morals, ethics, principles and social guidelines?
MORALS: "... are the rules of right and wrong--what someone should or should not do (as opposed to the can and cannot do in a law) in social situations."
"...modes of conduct...a sense of common purpose with respect to a group."
ETHICS: "... can be considered more of a system of morals like the laws of a country. It is also the study or field of one's concerns about right and wrong."
"a guiding philosophy... a consciousness of moral importance"
PRINCIPLES: "... have, more or less, fundamental aspects of what one considers right and wrong. There are usually deep seeded roots with principles such as a spiritual or cosmic belief in that something is right or wrong."
"...a rule or code of conduct."
SOCIAL GUIDELINES: "... are just that, guides of how one ought to behave. However, the consequences don't seem as significant if one should not behave accordingly."
"morals and social guidelines are about the same thing, and encompass rules and commandments. Mostly they are based in social customs or habits. they don't necessarily have much to do with ethical considerations. actually principles will often fall under the same heading here with morals. generally accepted statements about what to do in any number of situations."
"ethics is a more abstract term which refers more to careful consideration of the consequences of actions with the intent of finding courses of action that uphold the rights of other beings, to seek to do no harm. ethical principles, in comparison to moral principles, while they will often overlap, are behavioral policies created with a specific considered intent of doing no harm to others."
Answers provided by fireflame, Dr_Lizardo, supernaught, and Websters.
Now what do we learn?
First of all, pick a sentence of explanation, any sentence of explanation, and switch the key words.
" _______ is just the prevention, or more specifically, the legal prevention, of something." Law? Prohibition?
" _______ aspects of what one considers right and wrong." Social guidelines? Morals? Principles? Ethics? All of the above?
It was stated that a commandment is "like a law, but with biblical connotations to it." Wouldn't 'rule' be a more fitting substitute for 'law'?
It was stated that "..."morals and social guidelines are about the same thing, and encompass rules and commandments. Mostly they are based in social customs or habits. they don't necessarily have much to do with ethical considerations. actually principles will often fall under the same heading here with morals." This implies that all my words, with the exception of 'ethics' are the exact same thing and based solely on habit.
However, ethics "can be considered more of a system of morals"...
Are morals what ethics ensue? As a 'wordly' version of the 'higher', abstract ethics?
Is the entire Block A what morals then ensue?
Are morals, and thus also ethics, ideas universally regarded as virtually identical, as opposed to the socially varying principles and guidelines? Can ethics and morals even be bunched together in this last question?
Morals, ethics...ethics, morals...guidelines and principles. Leaving etymology and religious/social roots aside, they are completey interchangeable. They are the exact same thing, a straw to cling to in order to decide on a course of action based on the degree of inhibitation these ideas have sown.
Is this a new revelation? I wish it where, so I could tan myself in sunny profoundness. Alas, i am just amused by how this inhibitation is disguised as nobility in 'morals' and 'ethics', while it is still the dread of the consequences that pressures the individual. Which leads to another source of amusement, the fact that morals and ethics are only considered being just that as long as you follow them. The way it is perceived and understood in practice, the moment you cease to follow, it just morphs into something else - something with restrictions.
Aww, infatuation... it's really just a pretty synonym for 'being in love', right? So it would seem. Judging by the answers though, it is a purely physical attraction that is centered around all things sexual, while (thus?) forcing the afflicted to act like a retard.
Affection did not really get through this well; being perhaps nothing more than the expression of a certain emotion, but not an autonomous emotion by itself. Other than, in best case scenario, one of "moderation".
I am confused by love. (Who isn't?
Ha. ha.
Excuse my outburst of unneccessary cynical impertinence.) I am confused by the certainty with which people have explained the idea that has been troubling (to say the least) humankind ever since the beginning of articulation. Is love really an entity seperable from the other ideas I have thrown at you? Is it only differentiable by being supposedly more abysmal than the other(s)?
And why on earth did I add 'habit' to that list of emotional references... Now you see, i have a hard time defining what 'love' is, besides believing that it not too far fetched to theorize about the non-existance of it as a single entity. Instead, it is commonly confused with either infatuation or habit. Arguably, a new, seperable idea springs from the combination, or rather alternation of these two fundamental bases.
But let's add a quick interlude concerning practice: How often is the thing providing the most comfort no more than a habit? People habitually see each other at certain times, have sex, perform everyday rituals that cause a certain security. People are devastatingly bored with interpersonal relationships and more often than not annoyed by them, yet continue to habitually prolong them for isolated and sporadic episodes of infatuation.
But perhaps the mystique is that the idea is agreed to be more than the sum of it's parts.
I threw these questions into your faces out of curiosity. While I intellectually understand what they are, the sentiments go right past me. I do not share the often observed unquestionable acceptance of these ideas, meaning, I fail to fully understand them. And who the hell does? Philosophy irritates me.
Smarter women than you or I have died horrible deaths before answering any of the questions resulting from the above - I sneer at anyone claiming to know. Of course, I'm the one crashing my head into comprehensional borders, so I'm probably just defiant.
BUT. You know what? All of this was beside the point, since I had not originally asked for explanations. I had asked for what differenciates them.
Class, be seated - failed.
The only thing left to say is how, again, amusing it is that we all constantly use words, expressions and terms that are readily, and ordinarily, confused. Or use them with blatantly perverted defenitions. But I guess it's all good cos that's how language evolves. Confusing, confusing, confusing... and I can't even construct a thesis since the point is - I don't get it.
Puristic and mundane:
I DON'T GET IT.
It has a certain beauty. I marvel it. And you know what? This is boring.
Fuck it.
------------------------------------------------
SO NOW, THE MOMENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR....!
You've read this far? Good for you!! Here's your reward:
(Ah yes... throwing bait here is so simple...
)-----------------------------------------------------
Block A. So what's the difference between a rule, law, prohibition, and commandment?
RULE: "...just a guideline for one's conduct of behavior, what you can and cannot do within a social context"
"...a prescribed guide for conduct or action...an accepted procedure, custom, or habit"
LAW: "... is very similar to a rule but more specifically with legal aspects to it."
"...a binding custom or practice of a community, a rule of conduct or action [...] formally recognized as binding or enforced by a controlling authority - the whole body of such customs, practices, or rules"
PROHIBITION: "... is just the prevention, or more specifically, the legal prevention, of something."
"to forbid by authority"
COMMANDMENT: "... is like a law, but with biblical connotations to it."
Block B. What's the difference between love, affection, infatuation and habit?
LOVE: "... involves a deeply intimate and emotional connection with someone (or something for that matter)."
"...reaches deep into your heart and gut and involves it all in an exillerating and emotionally binding pact that literally pains you (but doesn't physically, in and of itself, ruin or disable you) to break"
"strong affection for another...attraction based on sexual desire, affection and tenderness felt by lovers...admiration, benevolence, or common interests, warm attachment, enthusiasm, or devotion"
AFFECTION: "... is a usually a physical (or verbal) expression of one's fondness towards another."
"...warm feelings that you have for someone where you don't care so much that they leave or stay though you appreciate them (or parts of them anyway) when they're there"
"...a moderate feeling..."
INFATUATION: "... is more of an immediate (and most often short-lived) physical attraction towards another. It tends to be considered a superficial feeling compared to love. However, it can easily lead to a false sense of love."
"... burning erotic feeling, mostly of the loins, that reaches into the other extremities one of which is the brain and makes a person think that they can't live without another... does not wretch your heart out when you leave them but much like an addiction leaves you wanting even after all that you've been through"
"... cause to be foolish, deprived of sound judgment... to inspire with a foolish or extravagant love..."
HABIT: "... is just a behavioral tendency done by oneself with or without their own cognizance of it."
"...sometimes consciously born of necessity rather than like or pleasure, used to save time and go through life without having to think of the things you are doing therefore saving time and mindspace for thinking of things while you are simultaneously doing others."
"a behavior pattern acquired by frequent repetition or physiologic exposure that shows itself in regularity or increased facility of performance...has become nearly or completely involuntary"
Block C. What's the difference between morals, ethics, principles and social guidelines?
MORALS: "... are the rules of right and wrong--what someone should or should not do (as opposed to the can and cannot do in a law) in social situations."
"...modes of conduct...a sense of common purpose with respect to a group."
ETHICS: "... can be considered more of a system of morals like the laws of a country. It is also the study or field of one's concerns about right and wrong."
"a guiding philosophy... a consciousness of moral importance"
PRINCIPLES: "... have, more or less, fundamental aspects of what one considers right and wrong. There are usually deep seeded roots with principles such as a spiritual or cosmic belief in that something is right or wrong."
"...a rule or code of conduct."
SOCIAL GUIDELINES: "... are just that, guides of how one ought to behave. However, the consequences don't seem as significant if one should not behave accordingly."
"morals and social guidelines are about the same thing, and encompass rules and commandments. Mostly they are based in social customs or habits. they don't necessarily have much to do with ethical considerations. actually principles will often fall under the same heading here with morals. generally accepted statements about what to do in any number of situations."
"ethics is a more abstract term which refers more to careful consideration of the consequences of actions with the intent of finding courses of action that uphold the rights of other beings, to seek to do no harm. ethical principles, in comparison to moral principles, while they will often overlap, are behavioral policies created with a specific considered intent of doing no harm to others."
Answers provided by fireflame, Dr_Lizardo, supernaught, and Websters.
Now what do we learn?
First of all, pick a sentence of explanation, any sentence of explanation, and switch the key words.
" _______ is just the prevention, or more specifically, the legal prevention, of something." Law? Prohibition?
" _______ aspects of what one considers right and wrong." Social guidelines? Morals? Principles? Ethics? All of the above?
It was stated that a commandment is "like a law, but with biblical connotations to it." Wouldn't 'rule' be a more fitting substitute for 'law'?
It was stated that "..."morals and social guidelines are about the same thing, and encompass rules and commandments. Mostly they are based in social customs or habits. they don't necessarily have much to do with ethical considerations. actually principles will often fall under the same heading here with morals." This implies that all my words, with the exception of 'ethics' are the exact same thing and based solely on habit.
However, ethics "can be considered more of a system of morals"...
Are morals what ethics ensue? As a 'wordly' version of the 'higher', abstract ethics?
Is the entire Block A what morals then ensue?
Are morals, and thus also ethics, ideas universally regarded as virtually identical, as opposed to the socially varying principles and guidelines? Can ethics and morals even be bunched together in this last question?
Morals, ethics...ethics, morals...guidelines and principles. Leaving etymology and religious/social roots aside, they are completey interchangeable. They are the exact same thing, a straw to cling to in order to decide on a course of action based on the degree of inhibitation these ideas have sown.
Is this a new revelation? I wish it where, so I could tan myself in sunny profoundness. Alas, i am just amused by how this inhibitation is disguised as nobility in 'morals' and 'ethics', while it is still the dread of the consequences that pressures the individual. Which leads to another source of amusement, the fact that morals and ethics are only considered being just that as long as you follow them. The way it is perceived and understood in practice, the moment you cease to follow, it just morphs into something else - something with restrictions.
Aww, infatuation... it's really just a pretty synonym for 'being in love', right? So it would seem. Judging by the answers though, it is a purely physical attraction that is centered around all things sexual, while (thus?) forcing the afflicted to act like a retard.
Affection did not really get through this well; being perhaps nothing more than the expression of a certain emotion, but not an autonomous emotion by itself. Other than, in best case scenario, one of "moderation".
I am confused by love. (Who isn't?
Ha. ha.
Excuse my outburst of unneccessary cynical impertinence.) I am confused by the certainty with which people have explained the idea that has been troubling (to say the least) humankind ever since the beginning of articulation. Is love really an entity seperable from the other ideas I have thrown at you? Is it only differentiable by being supposedly more abysmal than the other(s)?
And why on earth did I add 'habit' to that list of emotional references... Now you see, i have a hard time defining what 'love' is, besides believing that it not too far fetched to theorize about the non-existance of it as a single entity. Instead, it is commonly confused with either infatuation or habit. Arguably, a new, seperable idea springs from the combination, or rather alternation of these two fundamental bases.
But let's add a quick interlude concerning practice: How often is the thing providing the most comfort no more than a habit? People habitually see each other at certain times, have sex, perform everyday rituals that cause a certain security. People are devastatingly bored with interpersonal relationships and more often than not annoyed by them, yet continue to habitually prolong them for isolated and sporadic episodes of infatuation.
But perhaps the mystique is that the idea is agreed to be more than the sum of it's parts.
I threw these questions into your faces out of curiosity. While I intellectually understand what they are, the sentiments go right past me. I do not share the often observed unquestionable acceptance of these ideas, meaning, I fail to fully understand them. And who the hell does? Philosophy irritates me.
Smarter women than you or I have died horrible deaths before answering any of the questions resulting from the above - I sneer at anyone claiming to know. Of course, I'm the one crashing my head into comprehensional borders, so I'm probably just defiant.
BUT. You know what? All of this was beside the point, since I had not originally asked for explanations. I had asked for what differenciates them.
Class, be seated - failed.
The only thing left to say is how, again, amusing it is that we all constantly use words, expressions and terms that are readily, and ordinarily, confused. Or use them with blatantly perverted defenitions. But I guess it's all good cos that's how language evolves. Confusing, confusing, confusing... and I can't even construct a thesis since the point is - I don't get it.
Puristic and mundane:
I DON'T GET IT.
It has a certain beauty. I marvel it. And you know what? This is boring.
Fuck it.
------------------------------------------------
SO NOW, THE MOMENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR....!
You've read this far? Good for you!! Here's your reward:
* Oh, and this is priceless. Even compared to my mud-laced ass.
We all know the little garbage-männchen, reminding us not to litter, right?
Now I thought this look he had was the internationally accepted one, you know, plus-minus a few nuances. I believe he's had that head, and suit, and garbage can most anyplace I've been. Everyone likes him.
Except of course in Italy. In Italy , he's wild and free, man:
So what's the difference between a rule, law, prohibition, and commandment?
What's the difference between love, affection, infatuation and habit?
What's the difference between morals, ethics, principles and social guidelines?
* Once, when we started french in 7th grade, we were all sitting there in class and Mme Vent (who is the only person I have ever known to have actual pubic hair on her head) asked our names in order to adjust them to something french she would then call us.
Like: "And youu?"
"Felicitas." - "Thatt weell bee Felice! And youu?"
"Andrew." - "Thatt weell bee André!"
This went on throughout the entire class of course - I was Claire, by the way. People who know me know where that comes from, having nothing to do with my real first name - until she reached Robert, this stout, pretty strong boy who had a crew cut even then. He wasn't exactly what you'd call a bully all the way, but he certainly was very anxious to keep a certain reputation. No jokes on him.
So she asks: "And youu?"
"Bobby."
"Noooo, c'est pas possible! Eet sounds laik a dogg!! Wha ee's youur meeddle name?"
What was his middle name? No one knew. All we knew is that he turned bright scarlett in a matter of seconds and began squirming in his seat.
"Go onn! We cannot call youu a doggs name! What is the meedlle??"
And he sais:
"Clifford."
I speak no more.
* Fuel, I still adore you. Pill, I have begun to adore you.
* There is no escaping Fussball. There is no escaping involvement in Fussball. I despise myself for it, but I've been caught rooting for certain teams. The ones that play a good game? No. The ones that have the occasional hot member? Also not. I am always, no matter what game, primarily for Paraguay, because they are so underdog it can get no worse, and once they are gone, I'm all about the team with the most interesting pattern in their trikot. Talk about eating and sleeping your job, hm? I don't mean pattern as in colors and shapes, I mean the way the cloth is cut and sewn together. That gets me excited. Talk about an illness of profession.
* Since I have no social life for many a reason (being that I work all day and all night, I am in the process of opening a shop, the godawful world cup is still an utter harrassment, and I've been known to be a jaded scenester who will not be caught dead at potentially boring events), all that happens to me is apparently linked to my job. My bar job.
So here are just two job-anecdotes.
1. This city is swarming with tourists these days, so I have a lot of translating to do from hand-and-feet to english or german, a lot of guessing what the dutchman drinking english beer wants to get for the french guy that's hot for the itallian girl talking to our polish bouncer. She's drinking lithuanian wodka and they all came to see the canadian band.
Occasionally, I get a guy desperately fumbling for a chunk of german that'll help him out to order something he's pointing so hard at in the menu it leaves a dent. If I detect an english native speakers accent, it depends what I feel like doing. I sort of wait and look with a smirk spreading over my face, and when I've tortured him enough I'll say: "We can speak english if you want."
After an almost tangible expression of relief, there's the cry of "Oh! You're american!" with which the conversation is officially launched.
"Not quite, only halfway... my father, my mother... here and there... where there? Well, there... and there... and dadadadadada."
This time, however, there was this redhaired gay guy with two girls sitting at the counter as I came in to start my shift. When I wrapped my money-pocket around my waist, he exclaimed: "Hey! We have the same bullet-belt!" and stands up on his bar stool to demonstrate. "That rocks!"
"I agree."
"Oh! You're american!"
...
They were fun though. I just couldn't shake the feeling of mild recognition, before and during the conversation. I just didn't pay much attention to it, since in a job were you see hundreds of faces each night, it's nothing unusual. Until we got to the where-are-you-froms and he said "New York...brooklyn. She and I do fire performance there!"
Oh...do you now? I was there three times in the last half year, I also know a girl who does stuff like that, how amusing. So to make a long story short, it turns out that not only have I seen them perform at the delancey lounge (that night when I was, err, earning money. Some of you may recall.) but they also know Charlie, Amber, and ZakSmith. The world is so goddamn tiny!
2. Here is an example of the Classic Shift That Sucks.
Last night. A monday night. I do it for the money.
First of all, a week-night is usually not very promising to begin with. There's just no one there, you stand your legs into your belly, to use a german expression, with absolutely. Nothing. To do. You have polished every glass, dusted every shelf, cleaned the fucking fridges from the inside, and if you've seen my bar, it's not exactly minimalistic in it's decor. Half of the shelves behind the counter are not filled with bottles or glasses, they're occupied by the craziest collection of just things. Tiny dolls of wool. An unhealthy amount of dogs in any way, shape or form. Pictures. Postcards. Statues. Broken clocks that feature wild deer. Elvis dolls. Lemmy dolls. Johnny Cash dolls. Skull-rattles. I could go on and on.
And I know, standing there, that if I scratch the dust and grime out of one more carved hair of dog-fur - I will simply implode.
Because you have to seem busy when your boss is around. She's the kind of person that will tear your head off and eat it if you're not busy. Even if there's like two customers. She's worse if there's like two customers. Because naturally, it's YOUR FAULT that no one's there.
So I try to look occupied while I'm waiting for the band to start playing. This is postponed however, to an unknown time, since the the Fussball game is dragging on into infinity and they can't start before it's over. If they did, they'd have a public band rehearsal, not a show. Since Fusball is a religion.
But the entire non-existing audience is made up of like 18year-olds anyway. They came to see the lame hardcore bands that somehow got a gig here, and we hate them all because they never tip, they drink things that are annoying to make and they pay with pennies. Pure. Rage.
They also don't know where the bathrooms are because their moms let them come here for the first time ever tonight. That's the moment where you want "Down there to your left" printed on a t-shirt, and you wonder vaguely why there isn't a sign. But only for a minute, because you know that a sign with a big arrow directing the way to the toilets, kept as simple and consumer-friendly as possible, but still hung between a bunch of band-posters... you know they'll assume T.O.I.L.E.T. is a band, and ask you anyway.
The bands suck because they're not much older, they just learned how to hold their instruments - and get this: One of them forgot his guitar at home! - and I don't like hardcore anyway because lyrics like
"ARRRGhhhuuuu. MMMpppPPGOOOOOORRR!"
are stupid, and there's just too much faux badass-ness and staged testosterone.
So there I am, in some obscure kindergarden, when my other boss, who was supposed to close the place (since I opened it) asks me if I could stay till the end since he can't walk because the injuries he received in a motocycle crash a few years back are troubling him and he's basically a cripple.
Yeah. Sure I can stay here... No. Problem.
*sigh*
I'll make this last part short. At around 2 o'clock, this guy I've been seeing around walks in and there's the highlight of my night. He's a wasted, sleazy-looking black-haired italian gutterpunk wich of course makes my twisted little heart flutter. We are obviously the only normal people in this place. The funny thing is, that he looks exactly like a guy I met in Rome when I was 17 who called himself Schizo and wanted to fuck me. But we couldn't. I feel it's unfinished business, even though I only saw him one night back then.
And now this guy walks in, looks exactly like him and tells me about San Lorenze.... I want more.
And I get more, just not exactly what I was hoping for.
I give him my number, but kick him out to close the place, and forget about it for the night. When I finally get out and lock the door, he's there, and has been waiting for like an hour to catch me. He says, in his rediculously hot accent, that he has something for me. Before I can say anything, he slips an oblong, rounded object into my hand, winks, and walks off.
It's a Kinder Überraschungsei. What the fuck?? We have these chocolate eggs here that are hollow inside to hold a small plastic container for little toys. Kinder Surprise-eggs. What a fitting name. I put it in my pocket and go home.
Now. I'm sure you all can imagine what was in that little surprise egg, just like I could imagine. But the fucked up part here, is that those things are really hard to open! You know when you're wrestling something in a very concentrated manner cos it needs to be opened but you know the entire contents are gonna spill?
Exactly. I twisted and pinched and turned and cursed, and when it finally jumped open, half the coke inside just sprayed, in a beautiful powdery white arc, into the atmosphere.
The resulting FUUUCK-this-shit!-feeling cannot be conveyed in words. It was also all over my hands (which presents a lesser problem) and pants, the ones I will obviously NOT be wearing when I go to the airport tomorrow... Jesus Christ.
Ahh, there is so much more I could write, but alas, I need to get ready for Rome! So if you'll excuse me while I go play fisticuffs
What's the difference between love, affection, infatuation and habit?
What's the difference between morals, ethics, principles and social guidelines?
* Once, when we started french in 7th grade, we were all sitting there in class and Mme Vent (who is the only person I have ever known to have actual pubic hair on her head) asked our names in order to adjust them to something french she would then call us.
Like: "And youu?"
"Felicitas." - "Thatt weell bee Felice! And youu?"
"Andrew." - "Thatt weell bee André!"
This went on throughout the entire class of course - I was Claire, by the way. People who know me know where that comes from, having nothing to do with my real first name - until she reached Robert, this stout, pretty strong boy who had a crew cut even then. He wasn't exactly what you'd call a bully all the way, but he certainly was very anxious to keep a certain reputation. No jokes on him.
So she asks: "And youu?"
"Bobby."
"Noooo, c'est pas possible! Eet sounds laik a dogg!! Wha ee's youur meeddle name?"
What was his middle name? No one knew. All we knew is that he turned bright scarlett in a matter of seconds and began squirming in his seat.
"Go onn! We cannot call youu a doggs name! What is the meedlle??"
And he sais:
"Clifford."
I speak no more.
* Fuel, I still adore you. Pill, I have begun to adore you.
* There is no escaping Fussball. There is no escaping involvement in Fussball. I despise myself for it, but I've been caught rooting for certain teams. The ones that play a good game? No. The ones that have the occasional hot member? Also not. I am always, no matter what game, primarily for Paraguay, because they are so underdog it can get no worse, and once they are gone, I'm all about the team with the most interesting pattern in their trikot. Talk about eating and sleeping your job, hm? I don't mean pattern as in colors and shapes, I mean the way the cloth is cut and sewn together. That gets me excited. Talk about an illness of profession.
* Since I have no social life for many a reason (being that I work all day and all night, I am in the process of opening a shop, the godawful world cup is still an utter harrassment, and I've been known to be a jaded scenester who will not be caught dead at potentially boring events), all that happens to me is apparently linked to my job. My bar job.
So here are just two job-anecdotes.
1. This city is swarming with tourists these days, so I have a lot of translating to do from hand-and-feet to english or german, a lot of guessing what the dutchman drinking english beer wants to get for the french guy that's hot for the itallian girl talking to our polish bouncer. She's drinking lithuanian wodka and they all came to see the canadian band.
Occasionally, I get a guy desperately fumbling for a chunk of german that'll help him out to order something he's pointing so hard at in the menu it leaves a dent. If I detect an english native speakers accent, it depends what I feel like doing. I sort of wait and look with a smirk spreading over my face, and when I've tortured him enough I'll say: "We can speak english if you want."
After an almost tangible expression of relief, there's the cry of "Oh! You're american!" with which the conversation is officially launched.
"Not quite, only halfway... my father, my mother... here and there... where there? Well, there... and there... and dadadadadada."
This time, however, there was this redhaired gay guy with two girls sitting at the counter as I came in to start my shift. When I wrapped my money-pocket around my waist, he exclaimed: "Hey! We have the same bullet-belt!" and stands up on his bar stool to demonstrate. "That rocks!"
"I agree."
"Oh! You're american!"
...
They were fun though. I just couldn't shake the feeling of mild recognition, before and during the conversation. I just didn't pay much attention to it, since in a job were you see hundreds of faces each night, it's nothing unusual. Until we got to the where-are-you-froms and he said "New York...brooklyn. She and I do fire performance there!"
Oh...do you now? I was there three times in the last half year, I also know a girl who does stuff like that, how amusing. So to make a long story short, it turns out that not only have I seen them perform at the delancey lounge (that night when I was, err, earning money. Some of you may recall.) but they also know Charlie, Amber, and ZakSmith. The world is so goddamn tiny!
2. Here is an example of the Classic Shift That Sucks.
Last night. A monday night. I do it for the money.
First of all, a week-night is usually not very promising to begin with. There's just no one there, you stand your legs into your belly, to use a german expression, with absolutely. Nothing. To do. You have polished every glass, dusted every shelf, cleaned the fucking fridges from the inside, and if you've seen my bar, it's not exactly minimalistic in it's decor. Half of the shelves behind the counter are not filled with bottles or glasses, they're occupied by the craziest collection of just things. Tiny dolls of wool. An unhealthy amount of dogs in any way, shape or form. Pictures. Postcards. Statues. Broken clocks that feature wild deer. Elvis dolls. Lemmy dolls. Johnny Cash dolls. Skull-rattles. I could go on and on.
And I know, standing there, that if I scratch the dust and grime out of one more carved hair of dog-fur - I will simply implode.
Because you have to seem busy when your boss is around. She's the kind of person that will tear your head off and eat it if you're not busy. Even if there's like two customers. She's worse if there's like two customers. Because naturally, it's YOUR FAULT that no one's there.
So I try to look occupied while I'm waiting for the band to start playing. This is postponed however, to an unknown time, since the the Fussball game is dragging on into infinity and they can't start before it's over. If they did, they'd have a public band rehearsal, not a show. Since Fusball is a religion.
But the entire non-existing audience is made up of like 18year-olds anyway. They came to see the lame hardcore bands that somehow got a gig here, and we hate them all because they never tip, they drink things that are annoying to make and they pay with pennies. Pure. Rage.
They also don't know where the bathrooms are because their moms let them come here for the first time ever tonight. That's the moment where you want "Down there to your left" printed on a t-shirt, and you wonder vaguely why there isn't a sign. But only for a minute, because you know that a sign with a big arrow directing the way to the toilets, kept as simple and consumer-friendly as possible, but still hung between a bunch of band-posters... you know they'll assume T.O.I.L.E.T. is a band, and ask you anyway.
The bands suck because they're not much older, they just learned how to hold their instruments - and get this: One of them forgot his guitar at home! - and I don't like hardcore anyway because lyrics like
"ARRRGhhhuuuu. MMMpppPPGOOOOOORRR!"
are stupid, and there's just too much faux badass-ness and staged testosterone.
So there I am, in some obscure kindergarden, when my other boss, who was supposed to close the place (since I opened it) asks me if I could stay till the end since he can't walk because the injuries he received in a motocycle crash a few years back are troubling him and he's basically a cripple.
Yeah. Sure I can stay here... No. Problem.
*sigh*
I'll make this last part short. At around 2 o'clock, this guy I've been seeing around walks in and there's the highlight of my night. He's a wasted, sleazy-looking black-haired italian gutterpunk wich of course makes my twisted little heart flutter. We are obviously the only normal people in this place. The funny thing is, that he looks exactly like a guy I met in Rome when I was 17 who called himself Schizo and wanted to fuck me. But we couldn't. I feel it's unfinished business, even though I only saw him one night back then.
And now this guy walks in, looks exactly like him and tells me about San Lorenze.... I want more.
And I get more, just not exactly what I was hoping for.
I give him my number, but kick him out to close the place, and forget about it for the night. When I finally get out and lock the door, he's there, and has been waiting for like an hour to catch me. He says, in his rediculously hot accent, that he has something for me. Before I can say anything, he slips an oblong, rounded object into my hand, winks, and walks off.
It's a Kinder Überraschungsei. What the fuck?? We have these chocolate eggs here that are hollow inside to hold a small plastic container for little toys. Kinder Surprise-eggs. What a fitting name. I put it in my pocket and go home.
Now. I'm sure you all can imagine what was in that little surprise egg, just like I could imagine. But the fucked up part here, is that those things are really hard to open! You know when you're wrestling something in a very concentrated manner cos it needs to be opened but you know the entire contents are gonna spill?
Exactly. I twisted and pinched and turned and cursed, and when it finally jumped open, half the coke inside just sprayed, in a beautiful powdery white arc, into the atmosphere.
The resulting FUUUCK-this-shit!-feeling cannot be conveyed in words. It was also all over my hands (which presents a lesser problem) and pants, the ones I will obviously NOT be wearing when I go to the airport tomorrow... Jesus Christ.
Ahh, there is so much more I could write, but alas, I need to get ready for Rome! So if you'll excuse me while I go play fisticuffs
and proceed to pack my bags!
You know, I'm not at all for those self-important, bragging and completely useless journal entries like the one I am about to post, BUT - what the hell. In my SG-land, the world revolves around me. And there's a shitload of endorphins rushing through my bloodstream. Since I just had
*possibly*
the best sex of my life.
At least in the top ten.
*smug look*
It involved only a boy, myself, and a glass dildo, that's it. I'm so easily satisfied...
I'm still creating a puddle in the seat I'm squishing around in.
*tips hat, leans back, and takes a drag*
*possibly*
the best sex of my life.
At least in the top ten.
*smug look*
It involved only a boy, myself, and a glass dildo, that's it. I'm so easily satisfied...
I'm still creating a puddle in the seat I'm squishing around in.
*tips hat, leans back, and takes a drag*
My 1 year SG anniversay. * I made this for Seshumaru.
...ok fine, for his girlfriend, but I rather like the idea of him in it.
I gave you that last one just for the boobs. You know, something you don't see all that much around here.
They belong to my lovely friend - let's call her The Old Nick - and yes, before you all pounce on me, I'm in the process of SG-persuasion. Perhaps you'll see more of her one day. * I've been spending my days with carnevals, circus (cicusses? Circi?) and freakshows, I've met bearded ladies, half-and-halfs, the Ernesto Sisters, both the strongest and fattest men alive, I've seen moustaches, ballerinas, obscure contortions, four-legged-ladies and siamese twins, girls on ropes, spirals and ferris wheels, I've spoken to Fuel and Albertine which of course fits right in, but what made me snicker and grunt like a dying pig was this:
* The Symptoms Of The Dork
(Note that it's not even The Dorkiness, as in a shading of personality traits - but a title, an aristocracy, an autonomous entity that posesses the self.
Jesus. I don't even need a story after that intro.
)I was over a friend's house and he was cooking. It was some sort of chunky stew in the 'mammoth pot' and we were in fierce battle over how to proceed.
His approach: Do 34 more things that would supposedly 'make it better' and take another too-many-hours. This would make me either crumble and decay in his kitchen corner or spoil my appetite on pickles and instant tea crumbs.
My approach: To not starve.
So instead, to take it like it was, sprinkle cheese over it and eat. Why? Because we love cheese.
A grave point which is best illustrated as follows: Spiking both your pinkies and index fingers into the air, stomping through the kitchen in a retarded wiggly dance and chanting: "WE LOVE CHEESE! WE LOVE CHEESE!"
(It's always better to speak in 1st person plural when cleverly convincing someone.)
My friends are generally not fazed by this sort of conduct. He just kept on stirring and asked: "Wheel of cheese? What are you talking about?"
So... I think it's time to refine my tactics.
* I'm in Rome at the end of this month. I have evil, vile and venomous plans with Albertine and Fuel. But no more on this, lest my plans be foiled... *rubs hands*
* You know, we're all prepared for a summer of pure insanity here in Berlin.
Besides having had Shayne and Toby here (who had thought I was scary prior to meeting me.
They, along with everyone else I think is cute, learned that I can be the least scary person in the world...) and waiting for Wendy, Charlie and Foxy to get here, there's also all the street festivals and carnevals. Right by my house, by the way, which is annoying.There is also the nauseatingly obnoxious Love Parade they resurrected, and of course...
The world championship.
* kneads forehead*
No one can feel my pain. It's horrific just having everyone follow it on tv when it happens in some other godforsaken place, but having it here in town! Words are not enough...
Every café, bar, restaurant and kebap-place in town has suddenly grown a tv, the bigger the better, and blasts out every game at hemmorhage volume.
Flags of every known nation sprout like fungus on walls, windows, cars and faces.
You are greeted by Fussball-anthem yelling mobs wherever you go, there's no escape. Especially in trains.
Your friends suddenly turn into beer-guzzling slobs. (Ok, fine: worse beer-guzzling slobs)
I could go on and on.... what's also really fucking hilarious is how the cases of people being beaten up for racist motives have all of a sudden skyrocketed. And everyone - especially fat bavarian politicians - is so fucking surprised by it.
Since Fussball-idiots have no history whatsoever of being fascist, ever. And this fabulous event isn't designed to further patriotism, either. And it has never offered the platform for an agressive, self-righteous attitude in which the enemy is always foreign. Yeah, I really fucking wonder why.
But I digress.
I want to share the peak of patriotic insanity that has managed to infiltrate even me! Lookit this, I am flabberghasted:
Never mind my almost vulgar looking fingers, that cigarette is from a pack of my favorite cheap ass cigarettes from the store down the street, by the captivating name of Burton.
And what do they now don that they didn't before? Right, a ring of the national colors black, red and gold!
NOOOOOOOOOoooooooooohhhhhhh.....!
* Oh, and this is a scream. My father, who has a small kid and a (not much older...
) wife in Lithuania, is in the process of getting a divorce. For reasons he is completely oblivious of, they are withholding the child and he, of course, sees no other way than the legal one to force them to let him see it. Thoughts like 'I wonder why they don't want to leave my daughter with me... is it possible that I've done something wrong? ' or 'Why do I have to use force on this, anyway? ' are succesfully kept from entering his mind.This is, naturally, his problem, and I can fully understand the wife and why she wants to protect her child, but it has - through an atrocious and presumptious demand, become my problem.
Some of you may remember the showdown between my father and I a few months back. He thankfully hasn't talked to me since. Now, funny, he has begun being shit-friendly again just the last few days, and all my backing away hasn't prevented him from telling me the above. And adding a sentence that... at least explains what the hell he wanted.
"I want you to come up to Lithuania to testify. You can say whatever you want, but I have never been physically violent to you."
I just stared at him. And waited for my brain to digest what I'd just heard. To make any sort of warped sense in my mind. It didn't.
I just moved my feet into a direction that was away from him and said: "I... I understand what you're asking me to do."
Which is true. I can intellectually grasp what I'm supposed to do. There are steps a, b and c, and I am capable of comprehending the theoretical execution of said steps. What boggles the mind however, is just a jumbled mess of "What... how can someone... this is... complete suppression? Selective memory? What the FUCK??"
I dread the outcome of this one.
* On a lighter note, I'm extremely busy making a most outstanding set of clothes. I'm expecting them to turn out really. Good. This makes me happy, and it's funny how the simpleness of staying inside and working, having my machine, my scissors, pins and fabric scattered around and me in between, can make me happy like almost nothing else.
The best part is always playing dress-up.
Meet Marie Desolé. *gallant gesture*
#1
#2
#3
#4
#5
#6
#7
#8
#9
#10
#11
She's bashful, introverted and sweet as the fucking lord. But.
She shot these pictures for you.
You can have a part of her.
A part of her is 25€, which easily converts to 31$ in this day and age, she'll take those prints and seal them with a kiss, then send them your way with a pigeon. The pigeon is included in the price. (Actually, the pigeons flight is included, she wants the thing itself back. Stingy bitch.)
They are 8" x 11", and of fine quality. Only one of each will be sold.
She grants extra wishes, this lovable girl...anything you'd care to think about wanting to like, you can ask her about. A note on the print? Her name signed? A piece of lace? A cigarette butt? All possible.
Anything else? Send a message her way... but I can't guarantee she's a sweetheart about everything, sometimes, she's just a little too temperamental. You know how ladies are...
Oh, and she likes paypal. Please be so kind. If she can't sell these prints she'll have to return to selling flowers to passers-by, the whorehouse, or worst - get married.
-----------------------------
Back to myself.
* All I can say right now is that I adore my friends because, when approached by some 13-year-old groupie and I ask them "Who the fuck was that, do you know her?", they say things like: "Yes. I call her Herman."
* Also, I got the most obscure post-sex comment ever.
Ooh, ooh, ahh, done, I'm all clichee and smoke a cigarette. He hangs around in bed, thoughts visibly trailing off, and suddenly goes, all huffy and dead serious:
"I think I'm forced to write a letter of complaint to Barilla."
God. Ok, endorphins are my only excuse, but I nearly fell off my chair laughing. How randomly awful is that? What kinds of people do I know?? This boy just had sex!
So I'm a screeching howling mess and he gets all defensive. "I mean it - they sold me pesto with tree trunks in it!"
Jesus Christ.... sometimes my beliefs in whats good and right falters.
* Don't beat me up if the pic's sizes suck. Be assured that I'll be working on fixing that as you write your nasty comment.
Meet Marie Desolé. *gallant gesture*
#1
#2
#3
#4
#5
#6
#7
#8
#9
#10
#11
She's bashful, introverted and sweet as the fucking lord. But.
She shot these pictures for you.
You can have a part of her.
A part of her is 25€, which easily converts to 31$ in this day and age, she'll take those prints and seal them with a kiss, then send them your way with a pigeon. The pigeon is included in the price. (Actually, the pigeons flight is included, she wants the thing itself back. Stingy bitch.)
They are 8" x 11", and of fine quality. Only one of each will be sold.
She grants extra wishes, this lovable girl...anything you'd care to think about wanting to like, you can ask her about. A note on the print? Her name signed? A piece of lace? A cigarette butt? All possible.
Anything else? Send a message her way... but I can't guarantee she's a sweetheart about everything, sometimes, she's just a little too temperamental. You know how ladies are...
Oh, and she likes paypal. Please be so kind. If she can't sell these prints she'll have to return to selling flowers to passers-by, the whorehouse, or worst - get married.
-----------------------------
Back to myself.
* All I can say right now is that I adore my friends because, when approached by some 13-year-old groupie and I ask them "Who the fuck was that, do you know her?", they say things like: "Yes. I call her Herman."
* Also, I got the most obscure post-sex comment ever.
Ooh, ooh, ahh, done, I'm all clichee and smoke a cigarette. He hangs around in bed, thoughts visibly trailing off, and suddenly goes, all huffy and dead serious:
"I think I'm forced to write a letter of complaint to Barilla."
God. Ok, endorphins are my only excuse, but I nearly fell off my chair laughing. How randomly awful is that? What kinds of people do I know?? This boy just had sex! So I'm a screeching howling mess and he gets all defensive. "I mean it - they sold me pesto with tree trunks in it!"
Jesus Christ.... sometimes my beliefs in whats good and right falters.
* Don't beat me up if the pic's sizes suck. Be assured that I'll be working on fixing that as you write your nasty comment.
OCTOBER 2006
SEPTEMBER 2006
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30