Haven't been here for ages.
I've grown; older, quieter, wilder
I don't care as much
and yet I do.
That you are distant
hazy, who are you
I walk this way
and you that
There are these amazing
vivid
fucked up
beautiful people over here
They are me
My neck out
my veins straining under the pressure
it is so
hard
the colors are blurring...
the dimensions matching up.
I awoke in the night
to a girl in my bed
she put her mouth all over me
and I become it all
I've grown; older, quieter, wilder
I don't care as much
and yet I do.
That you are distant
hazy, who are you
I walk this way
and you that
There are these amazing
vivid
fucked up
beautiful people over here
They are me
My neck out
my veins straining under the pressure
it is so
hard
the colors are blurring...
the dimensions matching up.
I awoke in the night
to a girl in my bed
she put her mouth all over me
and I become it all
"Body of a Woman"
By Pablo Neruda
Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs,
you look like a world, lying in surrender.
My rough peasant's body digs in you
and makes the son leap from the depth of the earth.
I was alone like a tunnel. The birds fled from me,
and night swamped me with its crushing invasion.
To survive myself I forged you like a weapon,
like an arrow in my bow, a stone in my sling.
But the hour of vengeance falls, and I love you.
Body of skin, of moss, of eager and firm milk.
Oh the goblets of the breast! Oh the eyes of absence!
Oh the roses of the pubis! Oh your voice, slow and sad!
Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace.
My thirst, my boundless desire, my shifting road!
Dark river-beds where the eternal thirst flows
and weariness follows, and the infinite ache.
By Pablo Neruda
Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs,
you look like a world, lying in surrender.
My rough peasant's body digs in you
and makes the son leap from the depth of the earth.
I was alone like a tunnel. The birds fled from me,
and night swamped me with its crushing invasion.
To survive myself I forged you like a weapon,
like an arrow in my bow, a stone in my sling.
But the hour of vengeance falls, and I love you.
Body of skin, of moss, of eager and firm milk.
Oh the goblets of the breast! Oh the eyes of absence!
Oh the roses of the pubis! Oh your voice, slow and sad!
Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace.
My thirst, my boundless desire, my shifting road!
Dark river-beds where the eternal thirst flows
and weariness follows, and the infinite ache.
Tonight I was hungry but I didn't feel like cooking. I saw a can of chickpeas in the cupboard and thought to make hummus. . . I assumed it would be easy, but I didn't think it would be quite so fun and tasty!
I made the best hummus I can remember having. It is soooo good. I highly recommend this improv recipe I culled from the internet. . .
From Mediterrasian.com (yes that is the correct spelling for the site)
2 cloves garlic_(I pounded mine a bit with the mortar and pestle, there is little out there that is so satisfyingly primitive as pounding and grinding something with a pestle to make it more palatable!)
¼ cup lemon juice- Which so easily came from a plastic lemon with a cap on top, ah the wonders of civilization!
¼ cup water- I skipped this because the tahini I made (see below) was a bit watery
14 oz (400g) canned chickpeas (garbanzo beans)_rinsed and drained
½ cup tahini
This is when I went on a rabid search for that jar of tahini I KNEW I had. But alas! Either my roommate stole it or I threw it away in a fit of stupidity when I recently cleaned and organized the kitchen. Boo!
So I search for a tahini recipe and I come upon this:
Tahini (Sesame Seed Paste) Recipe from about.com
Ingredients
2 tablespoons sesame seeds (more pounding and grinding with the pestle!)
1/2 teaspoon sesame oil
1/4 teaspoon salt (del mer)
1/4 cup tepid water
Instructions
Blend sesame seeds in a blender and grind until smooth. Add sesame oil, salt, and then slowly add 1/4 cup of water while blending. Blend until completely smooth.
I had this going in the food processor. Twas a bit runny, added the garbanzos, the smashed garlic, the lemon and so on. Process the hell out of it. Mix it up with a spatula, add a bit more sea salt and voila, bon appetite!
Now I have dragon breath and I am lettling the dog lick my fingers.
I made the best hummus I can remember having. It is soooo good. I highly recommend this improv recipe I culled from the internet. . .
From Mediterrasian.com (yes that is the correct spelling for the site)
2 cloves garlic_(I pounded mine a bit with the mortar and pestle, there is little out there that is so satisfyingly primitive as pounding and grinding something with a pestle to make it more palatable!)
¼ cup lemon juice- Which so easily came from a plastic lemon with a cap on top, ah the wonders of civilization!
¼ cup water- I skipped this because the tahini I made (see below) was a bit watery
14 oz (400g) canned chickpeas (garbanzo beans)_rinsed and drained
½ cup tahini
This is when I went on a rabid search for that jar of tahini I KNEW I had. But alas! Either my roommate stole it or I threw it away in a fit of stupidity when I recently cleaned and organized the kitchen. Boo!
So I search for a tahini recipe and I come upon this:
Tahini (Sesame Seed Paste) Recipe from about.com
Ingredients
2 tablespoons sesame seeds (more pounding and grinding with the pestle!)
1/2 teaspoon sesame oil
1/4 teaspoon salt (del mer)
1/4 cup tepid water
Instructions
Blend sesame seeds in a blender and grind until smooth. Add sesame oil, salt, and then slowly add 1/4 cup of water while blending. Blend until completely smooth.
I had this going in the food processor. Twas a bit runny, added the garbanzos, the smashed garlic, the lemon and so on. Process the hell out of it. Mix it up with a spatula, add a bit more sea salt and voila, bon appetite!
Now I have dragon breath and I am lettling the dog lick my fingers.
Haven't been on the site for ages. . .
I've been reading this book published in 1976, Illusion and Disillusion: The Self in Love and Marriage.
Looks to be a school book, as they have a recap at the end of the chapters and questions that could be for homework. . .
It's really interesting.
One of the points made deals with Romanticism, and Victorianism. In the 12th century there was the idea that love was for an idol, such as courtly ove from a knight to his queen. Love for something from afar, an idol not to be touched or stained, a pure, innocent love. Chastity. This derived from the Christian contempt for sex. Impossible between man and wife. Therefore love in marriage was impossible.
Then love changed could be for a mistress, including sex. But love and sex had no part in marriage. A "woman reserved her loyalty for her husband, and her love for her gallant." "Love and marriage were irreconcilable."
Then love, sex and marriage could be a complete package, as they are supposed to be today. "Love is the ultimate justification for marriage; marriage alone justifies sex; sex and love are therefore the two basic hallmarks of the marital union and neither sex nor love are culturally acceptable outside of marriage." Yet this romantic love is unrealistic. We expect the chemical, heart fluttering feeling in the beginning stages of a relationship to last past the honeymoon. Romanticism creates unrealistic expectations which "breed disillusionment, despair, and resentment."
"Advertising, which is aimed not only at the unmarried but increasingly at the married as well, uses a blend of romance and sex to lure the consumer. Sex is packaged as the ticket to romance; the romantic illusion is, in fact, the acceptable cultural cover for using sex to sell merchandise. One suspects that this implication-romance justifies sex-makes it possible tor the general populace to accept sexual connotations. Without the romantic motif, we would be face to face with sex for its own sake. Perhaps this would be more honest but, as advertisers know quite well, it would not sell. The citizens of this country are not ready to view sex objectively."
They go on to discuss porn, the "frank embracing of physical sexual pleasure without any reference to love, commitment, value or meaning."
Where we had puritanism before, now we have an reaction is the other direction: neopuritanism:
"Sin used to mean giving into one's sexual desires; it now means not having full sexual expression. Our contemporary puritan holds that it is immoral not to express your libido. This all means of course, that people not only have to learn to perform sexually but have to make sure, at the same time, that they can do so without letting themselves go in passion or unseemly commitment- the latter of which may be interpreted as exerting unhealthy demand upon the partner. The Victorian person sought to have love without falling into sex; the modern person seeks to have sex without falling into love."
This unrealistic love has moved many in our western society to an opposite of extreme, where love has no part in sex, where fucking with love is weird!
I really am tempted to quote the whole fucking chapter!
"we use sex (lust or libido) to replace eros, which combines physical and psychic intimacy." "Sex can be defined fairly adequately in physiological terms as consisting of the building up of bodily tensions and their release. Eros, in contrast, is the experiencing of the personal intentions and meaning of the act. Whereas sex is a rhythm of stimulus and response, eros is a state of being...eros seeks union with the other person in delight and passion, and the procreating of new dimensions of experience which broaden and deepen the being of both persons."
"Eros is a release of id and affect, sharing and communication. Eros is the deep inner urge to know the other, much as the ancient Hebrew word for know means sexual knowledge. Yet to know only sexually is not to know fully. Eros is the physical abandon of lovers who are enabled to abandon because they care, feel, and trust"
So what do you think?
I've been reading this book published in 1976, Illusion and Disillusion: The Self in Love and Marriage.
Looks to be a school book, as they have a recap at the end of the chapters and questions that could be for homework. . .
It's really interesting.
One of the points made deals with Romanticism, and Victorianism. In the 12th century there was the idea that love was for an idol, such as courtly ove from a knight to his queen. Love for something from afar, an idol not to be touched or stained, a pure, innocent love. Chastity. This derived from the Christian contempt for sex. Impossible between man and wife. Therefore love in marriage was impossible.
Then love changed could be for a mistress, including sex. But love and sex had no part in marriage. A "woman reserved her loyalty for her husband, and her love for her gallant." "Love and marriage were irreconcilable."
Then love, sex and marriage could be a complete package, as they are supposed to be today. "Love is the ultimate justification for marriage; marriage alone justifies sex; sex and love are therefore the two basic hallmarks of the marital union and neither sex nor love are culturally acceptable outside of marriage." Yet this romantic love is unrealistic. We expect the chemical, heart fluttering feeling in the beginning stages of a relationship to last past the honeymoon. Romanticism creates unrealistic expectations which "breed disillusionment, despair, and resentment."
"Advertising, which is aimed not only at the unmarried but increasingly at the married as well, uses a blend of romance and sex to lure the consumer. Sex is packaged as the ticket to romance; the romantic illusion is, in fact, the acceptable cultural cover for using sex to sell merchandise. One suspects that this implication-romance justifies sex-makes it possible tor the general populace to accept sexual connotations. Without the romantic motif, we would be face to face with sex for its own sake. Perhaps this would be more honest but, as advertisers know quite well, it would not sell. The citizens of this country are not ready to view sex objectively."
They go on to discuss porn, the "frank embracing of physical sexual pleasure without any reference to love, commitment, value or meaning."
Where we had puritanism before, now we have an reaction is the other direction: neopuritanism:
"Sin used to mean giving into one's sexual desires; it now means not having full sexual expression. Our contemporary puritan holds that it is immoral not to express your libido. This all means of course, that people not only have to learn to perform sexually but have to make sure, at the same time, that they can do so without letting themselves go in passion or unseemly commitment- the latter of which may be interpreted as exerting unhealthy demand upon the partner. The Victorian person sought to have love without falling into sex; the modern person seeks to have sex without falling into love."
This unrealistic love has moved many in our western society to an opposite of extreme, where love has no part in sex, where fucking with love is weird!
I really am tempted to quote the whole fucking chapter!
"we use sex (lust or libido) to replace eros, which combines physical and psychic intimacy." "Sex can be defined fairly adequately in physiological terms as consisting of the building up of bodily tensions and their release. Eros, in contrast, is the experiencing of the personal intentions and meaning of the act. Whereas sex is a rhythm of stimulus and response, eros is a state of being...eros seeks union with the other person in delight and passion, and the procreating of new dimensions of experience which broaden and deepen the being of both persons."
"Eros is a release of id and affect, sharing and communication. Eros is the deep inner urge to know the other, much as the ancient Hebrew word for know means sexual knowledge. Yet to know only sexually is not to know fully. Eros is the physical abandon of lovers who are enabled to abandon because they care, feel, and trust"
So what do you think?
Happy birthday to me
I'm going to eat sushi
go to Pix Patisserie
and
hang out with Melanie
and
Brittany
and Stephenie!
I'm going to eat sushi
go to Pix Patisserie
and
hang out with Melanie
and
Brittany
and Stephenie!
Man I've cried tablespoons in the last hour.
Cups in the last few days.
Pints this week.
What the hell is wrong with me. . . ?
I know I'm not pregnant.
I must need to bake a chocolate cake, have 7 orgasms, sniff violets, write a letter to my mom, dance like it's a new thing, and dye my hair. If that doesn't work, I might be employing Winona Ryder to write my suicide letter.
Cups in the last few days.
Pints this week.
What the hell is wrong with me. . . ?
I know I'm not pregnant.
I must need to bake a chocolate cake, have 7 orgasms, sniff violets, write a letter to my mom, dance like it's a new thing, and dye my hair. If that doesn't work, I might be employing Winona Ryder to write my suicide letter.
I love this song that Caetano Veloso performs in Talk To Her by Pedro Almodovar
Dicen que por las noches no más se le iba en puro llorar.
Dicen que no comÃa, no más se le iba en puro tomar.
Juran que el mismo cielo se estremecÃa al oÃr su llanto.
Cómo sufrÃa por ella, que hasta en su muerte la fue llamando!
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, cantaba.
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, gemÃa.
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, cantaba.
De pasión mortal morÃa.
Que una paloma triste muy de mañana le va a cantar
A la casita sola con sus puertitas de par en par.
Juran que esa paloma no es otra cosa más que su alma,
Que él todavÃa la espera a que regrese, la desdichada.
Cucurrucucú, paloma,
Wucurrucucú, no llores.
Las piedras jamás, paloma,
Qué van a saber de amores?
Cucurrucucú, cucurrucucú,
Wucurrucucú, paloma,
Ya no le llores.
In English:
They say that at night he didn't do anything but cry.
They that he didn't eat and didn't do anything but drink.
They swear that heaven shuddered when it heard his cry,
How he suffered for her, calling out to her even as he died.
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, he sang.
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, he wept.
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, he sang.
As he died of mortal passion.
That a sad dove came that morning to sing to him,
To the small house with its windows open wide.
They swear that the dove is nothing less than his soul,
That is still waiting for her to come back, her, the unfortunate.
Cucurrucucú, dove,
Cucurrucucú, don't cry.
The stones never do, dove,
What do they know of love?
Cucurrucucú, cucurrucucú,
Cucurrucucú, you don't cry any more.
Dicen que por las noches no más se le iba en puro llorar.
Dicen que no comÃa, no más se le iba en puro tomar.
Juran que el mismo cielo se estremecÃa al oÃr su llanto.
Cómo sufrÃa por ella, que hasta en su muerte la fue llamando!
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, cantaba.
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, gemÃa.
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, cantaba.
De pasión mortal morÃa.
Que una paloma triste muy de mañana le va a cantar
A la casita sola con sus puertitas de par en par.
Juran que esa paloma no es otra cosa más que su alma,
Que él todavÃa la espera a que regrese, la desdichada.
Cucurrucucú, paloma,
Wucurrucucú, no llores.
Las piedras jamás, paloma,
Qué van a saber de amores?
Cucurrucucú, cucurrucucú,
Wucurrucucú, paloma,
Ya no le llores.
In English:
They say that at night he didn't do anything but cry.
They that he didn't eat and didn't do anything but drink.
They swear that heaven shuddered when it heard his cry,
How he suffered for her, calling out to her even as he died.
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, he sang.
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, he wept.
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, he sang.
As he died of mortal passion.
That a sad dove came that morning to sing to him,
To the small house with its windows open wide.
They swear that the dove is nothing less than his soul,
That is still waiting for her to come back, her, the unfortunate.
Cucurrucucú, dove,
Cucurrucucú, don't cry.
The stones never do, dove,
What do they know of love?
Cucurrucucú, cucurrucucú,
Cucurrucucú, you don't cry any more.
My Auntie sent this to me today. It's funny.
The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are the winners:
1. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.
2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.
3. Bozone: The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.
4. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.
5. Cashtration: The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.
6. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.
7. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.
8. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.
9. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.
10. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease.
11. Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.
12. Decafalon: The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.
13. Glibido: All talk and no action.
14. Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.
15. Arachnoleptic fit: The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.
16. Beelzebug: Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.
17. Caterpallor: The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.
And the pick of the literature:
18. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole.
The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are the winners:
1. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.
2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.
3. Bozone: The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.
4. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.
5. Cashtration: The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.
6. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.
7. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.
8. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.
9. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.
10. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease.
11. Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.
12. Decafalon: The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.
13. Glibido: All talk and no action.
14. Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.
15. Arachnoleptic fit: The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.
16. Beelzebug: Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.
17. Caterpallor: The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.
And the pick of the literature:
18. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole.
Ugh!
I was on the news today. . . meaningless bit about business being poor because of the weather. . .
I looked weird! My eyes were shifty, I was nervous, I was looking down, so my forehead looked huge, dark circles under my eyes, hair looked like crap, granted I wasn't wearing a spot of makeup. I didn't tell anyone it would be on, didn't want anyone to see it. But my friend called up and said she saw it, she says I don't really look like that.
It's weird how you perceive yourself differently than how you are seen. . .
I was on Playboy TV when they were interviewing people in Pioneer Square about SG years ago. . . I was more prepared then, makeup and what not. But my head looked fat!!!!! They say film adds 10 pounds, and it was all there, all 10 pounds, on my head! Sheesh. It's almost enough to make me eat grapefruit for breakfast and start taking acting classes. Almost.
I think I'm going to go do my hair.
I was on the news today. . . meaningless bit about business being poor because of the weather. . .
I looked weird! My eyes were shifty, I was nervous, I was looking down, so my forehead looked huge, dark circles under my eyes, hair looked like crap, granted I wasn't wearing a spot of makeup. I didn't tell anyone it would be on, didn't want anyone to see it. But my friend called up and said she saw it, she says I don't really look like that.
It's weird how you perceive yourself differently than how you are seen. . .
I was on Playboy TV when they were interviewing people in Pioneer Square about SG years ago. . . I was more prepared then, makeup and what not. But my head looked fat!!!!! They say film adds 10 pounds, and it was all there, all 10 pounds, on my head! Sheesh. It's almost enough to make me eat grapefruit for breakfast and start taking acting classes. Almost.
I think I'm going to go do my hair.
OCTOBER 2008
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JULY 2008