Merry Merry

I almost didn't post anything. It's been a weird year. I've been through a lot. Learned a lot. Writing two fan fics at once. I love the first one. Second one, is just weird and for my own amusement. There's supposed to be a third, but my writing partner wants to get to know meh. And that's just not going to happen. So, that one, though interesting in premise, will likely die, which is sad, but introverts gotta...introvert.

Those things said, I am...happy. Well, happier than usual anyway. Which is good for me. So, Merry Christmas, anyone who happens to read this. May the New Year be a happy, prosperous one for you. And I hope you get everything you want from that fat fuck, Santa Claus. 

We should make him pay what he owes, yeah?


...As the music dies, something in your eyes, calls to mind the silver screen...

...and all its sad goodbyes....


Harsh Reality

 photo carlin-anyone-can-be-president_zpsdrent7rw.jpg

And the winner of this years Ugly American pageant is: Donald J. Trump.

I am less than surprised. People are freaking out. The klu klux klan is partying like it's 1759. I suppose things are going to get worse now for brown people. Shoved into private prisons/slave plantations with the rest of the boatloads, asked for my apartheid identity papers, and needing to be home before the streetlights go out so I don't get shot by the cops or some other desperate motherfucker just like me. At least I won't be bored. Hell, life is an adventure, yeah?

Lord Voldemort being elected is far from the problem. We had two shitty candidates. Those two people were the best that America could do. For me, therein lies the real problem. He is self-serving scum and she is self-serving scum in this self-serving scumbag of a country that selflessly serves the rich and selfishly enslaves the poor. Only the poor believe that color/gender/sexuality matters to rich people. This is because the poor are, for the most part, under-educated, religious, and, most importantly, mentally lazy. It is just easier to believe that whatever your problem is it's someone else's fault and then just pick somebody to fuck up to make yourself feel better because you suck.

The racial tension that doesn't exist in America, a racial tension that was played upon by a brilliant sorcerer with no credentials in order to win the highest (visible) seat in the land, increases. The level of small, petty-minded, and stupid is just...too much. I swear, it's like being forced to watch Here Comes Honey BooBoo forever--this world. Wearing those clamps on your eyes like that dude in A Clockwork Orange. Unable to shut your poor, dry ass peepers to the sad, ridiculousness of it all, you just do what he did, and dream of rape.

Speaking of rape, women, and quite a few dudes, to be honest, are going to have their pussies grabbed now, boiii. I suppose that, at least, is going to be a little fun. It's been awhile.

 photo george-carlin-quote1_zpsxyy6vkzb.jpg

I'm waking up
To ash and dust
I wipe my brow
And I sweat my rust

I'm breathing in
The chemicals
I'm breaking in
I'm shaping up
Then checking out 
On the prison bus

This is it
The apocalypse...


Thinking Out Loud about CONFIDENCE...OR NAH

I live in a world where Donald Trump is running for president and might win. A good portion of the country is going to vote for him against their own interest because he's singing that siren's song of oppression that makes them feel good inside. They're still broke and he's not going to change that, but there are some brown people underneath them--and that's all that really matters to them. He is running against a woman who labeled African American youth "Super Predators" in the 90's. She said: "...they must be brought to heel" in her speech, like they were dogs. Animals. Ultimately, these people are ants in the point that I attempting to make here, which is a shame, because they are a nightmare, or should be. But they're small, insignificant to the point. And the point is confidence, or, a lack thereof. 

Confidence is a thing that comes from the self. While I believe it can be greatly affected by the workings of other people ala Jean Paul Sarte's line of reasoning, it is still an issue of self. A good example would be a rats in a maze (common saying, apt too). The Makers of the maze have all the keys and levers for trap doors that the rat has no idea about. The Makers of the maze have all the cheese. He/she can give the rat cheese or not. If the rat hits a brick wall or falls through the floor into a subterranean tunnel within the maze and has to take days, weeks, even years, to make his way back to the starting point, does the rat feel bad inside and lose confidence in his/her attempts to navigate and free him/herself from the maze? Probably. That's the set-up, right? The design of the maze. Ultimate control. 

Coming to understand the maze is the impossible thing. And you should have seen my little rat brain working, attempting to understand why publishing company after publishing company failed no matter how much revenue that company was generating--all of it in an attempt to control the hungry rat population, desperate for the cheese...willing to do anything for some recognition and a toothy nibble of that delicious Swiss in the hopes of one day eating enough cheese to become a Maker One Day and having sadistic control of all the other rats. Biting one another over crumbs while their Maker/Breaker Overlords bet against them and pick winners and losers at whim. 

Another publishing company has failed (name withheld 'cause they never did a damn thing to me), and, frankly, I am vaguely sad about it. This one was rather beautiful. I liked the way it began. That audacity and bravery that started it. The person that created it was a hero to me in a distant kind of way. They bucked the unjust, rape-like, system, much to the system's absolute rage and despair. They were a rat that became a Maker--one of the very few that actually made that happen. They had a beautiful thing going as far as rats and Makers go. The other foolish rats are taking pleasure in the death of this company in their Trump-supporting rat-like way. Tittering to themselves as the destruction of something beautiful--watching the world burn, so to speak. And I'm just watching what I can only consider to be a kind of rat-like-senseless-self-destructive-witch-burning mania. When there's no cheese, the rats turn mean and cannibalistic, you know. And the Makers laugh their asses off at the gladiator sport of it. 

-Sigh- What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, confidence...

...or, a lack thereof...

I like to write. 

I just discovered that I'm not a fucking rat

And I'm confident in that.


Black Mirror: San Junipero

 photo landscape-1471553666-cqktqcnwyaazgih_zpsrsqxbvlr.jpg

If I was a Saudi Prince with a Saudi harem, these two ladies would be my stars

I consider the show Black Mirror to be horror. Normally, it shows the ugly side of the way humans are living today and how that's going to expand into worse horror in the future. It knocks the 'like me' desperation of social media. It makes little mechanical bees that'll kill you. It show us what a human zoo would look like if we lose any more of our souls to the various machines. I enjoy this show and I've recommended it before. I like horror stories a lot. 

However, this season, I saw the most beautiful love story on Black Mirror and I don't want those people who crave love to miss it. It's my public responsibility to rave about this thing. 

San Junipero is a place you can go that eliminates the mystery of what happens to you after you die. It is one big constant party and when you are dying you are allowed into San Junipero at five hour increments in preparation for the day that you truly 'pass over'. Yorkie (brown hair, glasses, above) is wandering around the party town. She's lovely in a nerdy way and lost. She spies the beautiful Kelly trying to get away from some guy and she follows them, already enchanted.

Yorkie has never known love. She has been in a coma for most of her life because she came out to her parents as gay and the pain of their rejection caused her to get into a terrible accident that stole away her life. Kelly was married for forty-six years. She put away her desire for women early on and she really did love her husband. Kelly wants to follow him and the daughter she lost into whatever lies beyond death. She does not want to be a part of San Junipero.

But she didn't count on falling in love with Yorkie.

Honestly, it's just beautiful. It has all the elements of the other stories. It is the same kind of thing. But it isn't horror. Or, rather, the love story triumphs over one of the last images which is their little batteries/cells being locked in with thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of others, in the big machine that is San Junipero. 

I don't know. Maybe there is something horrific in being in a simulated kind of life. But all I could see was two miserable people who found one another and were happy. The other residents of San Junipero  seemed kind of desperate to me. Partying like it was the end of the world. Orgies seemed pretty standard there and all kinds of weirdness to make up for a lack that seemed to be there. 

It's the same way here though, yeah?

The only difference is the LOVE.

Highly recommended, 10 out of 10 and all that. Beautiful story. 

Kelly and Yorkie 4 Ever


Two Week Rant

 photo aino_Kizuna_vol02_cap02_001_zpsfnxcsagt.jpg

Kizuna is one of my favorite animes. Ranmaru and Enjoji are dem boyz. I love them. I love their relationship. I love their love. I think I've watched this thing a hundred times, but, truth was, I'd never read the manga. Bored of the same thing, and lacking in content, I decided to add it to the Stephen King binge I'd been on lately. Nothing better than reading the actual book, right? Wrong.

So much rape. And not so much rape itself, but the disingenuous way that rape was handled partially, if not totally, because the main characters were men. None of this was in the anime. And I'm glad, though I feel tricked. Ran is almost raped, drugged, and sleeps with this dude's brother because the drug demanded that he sleep with somebody. He experiences very little trauma due to this incident. And the reasoning seemed to be, at least to me, because he's a man. Then, that self-same brother gets raped by some stranger and, save for a moment where he's triggered for like two seconds, life goes on in that shit happens type of way.

Ran was always kind of bitchy, but it was funny in the anime. His antics just made him thoughtful and kind of insecure despite the fact that's he's beautiful. It was cute. In the manga, he's feminine to the point of being really distracting and rather irritating. I kept imagining him with breasts to see if the story would change for me. And, in the end, I discerned that it would not. I found him to be so annoying, this character that I loved. I couldn't figure out why Enjoji would put with his cheating ass for two seconds, let alone a lifetime. His apology was kind of like: "You weren't there and I slipped on a dick and that's that." He was absolutely irrational at times and it was not cute. Once, casually, Enjoji asked him if he was on his period and I was like: Is he?

Mercifully, these things didn't happen in the anime. The anime just presents their beautiful relationship with its ups and downs and flaws and whatnot. Ran's still crazy but he comes of as a man who is in love with another man and they, together, are beautiful. Truth be told, I don't really mind him being extra bitchy with sauce--there are dudes like that and they deserve to be loved...alawt. That part was just a little surprising, and I wanted to slap him all the time. Enjoji likes him though and that's all that really matters to me and he's still brave, being crippled and forcing himself to walk so he wouldn't be a burden and all that good shit. Still one of the most courageous, bad ass things I've seen this fiction-life and that's after he threw himself in front of the car to save his lover's life. Sooo...

I suppose I was just surprised by the...difference. I wouldn't have liked this story as much if I'd read the manga first, I think. It would have definitely gone into the category of things written a little wrong for me. I realize that it's a little dated, and, truly, it's better than a lot of the stuff written during that time. Like...nobody died, for example. Attacked by dinosaurs. So the other could be alone forever and regret his life 'decisions'. Still, it dropped a peg or two in my esteem. Not a lot, considering, but a little. And I find that to be a little sad. 


I read a lot of Mr. King. I recommend: Revival (The Great God Pan), Dr. Sleep (nice to see you again, Dannnnnny) and this weird thing called Blaze (Of Mice and Men). Also read Jerusalem's Lot over again--because I forgot the way that little town started its horrible legacy. 


Side-watching: Luke Cage and laughing because 'It's racist!"

The definition of the world racism does a lunatic dance in America. Is basic literacy really that low in this mofo?


It's a good show. All black men should be bulletproof these days. Then the cops would have to drop nukes on them. 


That One NSFW, Child Endangering, Little Viewed ... Post

Tulsa, Oklahoma


What is the difference between what is happening on the news now and the lynchings of yesteryear? I suppose if you use the absolute definition for lynching, there will be some difference. Lynchings, for example, were usually by hanging. Lynchings certainly weren't televised. People would come and take lots of pictures though, and those pictures were sold sometimes, and put on postcards and distributed with the daily mail. People liked to look at the pictures, I guess, though I can not imagine, for the very life of me, what kind of person, what kind of human being, would like to look at something like that. Or rather, I can. I just can't relate. 

By definition, "lynching is an extrajudicial punishment by an informal group. It is often used to characterize informal public executions by a mob in order to punish an alleged transgressor, or to intimidate a group. It is an informal form of group social control, but with a drift toward PUBLIC SPECTACLE. Lynchings have been more frequent in times of SOCIAL and ECONOMIC tension, and have often been a means for a dominant group to suppress challengers. However, it has also resulted from long-held prejudices and practices of discrimination that have conditioned societies to accept this type of violence as normal practices of popular justice."

In taking this wiki definition apart, one could say that the police are not exactly an informal group. The police are not, however, a judge, jury, or executioner. Perhaps they can be considered somewhere in the middle of the angry mob that chases poor Frankenstein and a judge, jury and executioner. The police, for example, are allowed to take a life when innocent lives or their own lives are threatened, which definitely launches them over the line of angry mob...but, how far? Where is the line? Does anybody even know anymore?

The above few questions are not for the police, particularly. The police are a group of people who are governed by the society for which they perform their duties. What some police are doing, they are doing because the society allows it. Things really are JUST that simple. 

A good example will be this comment that I pulled from...somewhere...and want to analyze. I picked this one because it is not, by far, the most hateful that I've seen. It is also not the most unreasonable. 

"...its very relevant..."

This refers to the dead man's prior history of drug abuse. I don't know what drug they're talking about here because I don't t think it matters at all, but this person does think that it matters. This is one of those: It matters if Trayvonne was maybe/possibly making lean but does not matter that George beats his wife and waves guns at people, people.

"Honestly I am really tired of this mass media on these cases."

I'm tired of looking at what I consider to be senseless death too, but for very different reasons than this person. I would like the deaths to stop and, therefore, there would be no need for mass media coverage. What I do not want is for the deaths to continue and there is no mass media coverage. The truth may be ugly but I try not to flinch away from it. I most certainly will not ignore it. There is a problem, let's solve it together, shall we?

"Its doing nothing but creating a divide."

Uhm, there's already a divide. Pretending there is not a divide does not solve the division problem. Unarmed people are being shot down in the street by the people that are supposed to be protecting them.

"A persons prior or usual behavior is very much relevant it also describes the person in question." 

If you have a video of a man with his hands up in the universal gesture of submission being shot down in the street, I don't see what his prior record has to do with anything. Did they ask to see his prior record before they shot him and used that information to deem him a threat?

I can see why such information would be useful in court--but, uhm, you gotta GET to court. Alive

"Now do I think this man should have died, of course not."

This is something of a relief.  

"But I also feel if I were black I would be pissed off at my own people..."

You mean humans, right?

"...change the bad image..."

Humans do have a shitty image. We rob, rape and kill everything we touch. Well, some of us anyway. 

"... get control of the thugs killing each other..."

What do 'thugs' killing each other have to do with this incident or any of the multitude of others? Are you saying that all black people are "thugs" and that this somehow justifies the murder of unarmed citizens who happen to be black? By "thugs", I am going to assume you mean 'bad guys". Mass media has tampered with the original definition of the word. How, pray tell, does one "get control" of the bad guys? Aren't the bad guys rather uncontrollable by nature? That's why they're bad guys, yeah?

 "...and you will see racial profiling disappear."

           ______________________________RETARD_________________________OR ...

Lynchings have been more frequent in times of SOCIAL and ECONOMIC tension, and have often been a means for a dominant group to suppress challengers. However, it has also resulted from long-held prejudices and practices of discrimination that have conditioned societies to accept this type of violence as normal practices of popular justice."


Fairy Tale

 photo FullMoonFairy_zpsgnlwrdcc.jpg

Been reading manga like crazy--all love stories like a constant throbbing fever dream. Over the last couple of days, I've read so many I stopped counting long ago--which drives that never ending ache to produce something like it. Writing is a symptomatic disease, I swurr. Recent experience made it that way though. What was once my only sanctuary became a prison. And all them damn boxes that other people like to put you in. "You must do it this way, Raquel...It's got to be that way, Raquel...You should think like this, Raquel."

I won't say that I don't care. That would be a lie. It's like...

...a huge ocean of water pressing against a wooden door. The door is just strong enough to hold the water back but there are cracks in the wood and little rivets of water seeping through those breaches and I've got my back up against the fucking thing, trying to hold it back...And I'm getting splinters so my blood is mixing with the water, and I can't swim so when it breaks, I'm a goner...

Imma drown...

And I am soooo looking forward to that ... release. That very personal, intimate, done-down-dirty-in-the-dark, orgasmic...release. "I-Imm...s-s-soooo c-cl-close!"

Once upon a time in a kingdom far away from here and now, a beautiful boy, and he was a boy then, gave a dark forest fairy a somber, but brilliant, melody. And when the fairy listened to the lovely tune, she did not understand the significance of its meaning. Still, she thought that it was beautiful and she kept that gift and left the boy behind to go back into the forest of shadow and golden light where she had been born. 

Many years passed and many things happened, but that fairy never forgot that boy--who had become a man in her absence. And sometimes she listened to that song. And slowly, over time, she came to understand it and why he had given it to her. 

Something she had considered frivolous had been so beautiful.



My kinda town...Pfft.

 photo efdb72d75165a24afdb6fc4c27011ab3_zpsl4yxm18j.jpg 

(Again, again...I can't draw; nawt my work)

Get it, Ivy! Get it! Get it!

Yesterday, I wrote a rather long post about how we came to the impasse that we are at now as far as the presidency is concerned. Meaning, I was debating with myself who was going to win the election: Evilyn (you know, Skeletor's bitch) or Voldemort. And, more importantly, how a nation that holds itself in such high 'self' esteem ended up with such grotesque candidates in line for the most powerful seat in the land. In the end, I deleted it all though. It said more about me than the world that I live in. 

Also realized that I live in the most racist state in the Union, which came as something of a surprise. It's weird the kind of disrespect and mistreatment one can get used to if it's always been like that. I thought segregation was illegal in this country, but this city is extremely segregated. The high school's here suck too. Most of them have a rating of one out of ten and are dangerous places filled with people with as much interest in learning as I have in joining the ku klux klan. It all seems rather nefarious and purposeful to me. 

One of the best examples I can give is this ten year old boy I saw one day and his father. I happened to be in the principals office of a relatively decent but not good school and the guy and his kid came in. The kid had a straight A average and high scores. He was from Mississippi and his father was desperate to get him into the school I was standing in because you might not get your face beat in. Unfortunately for him, his straight A student was about a half a block out of the district for that school. And that poor, smart kid had to go to a school where beating ass was the norm, where he will be persecuted for being intelligent and his grades will inevitably drop in an effort to blend in with the other kids and keep them from kicking his ass and stealing his lunch money every day. I saw it as the probable (but hopefully not) death of one of the intelligent people. The little light in his eyes has probably flickered out by now, honestly. 

It's so serious here that Kenwood Academy, one of the very few high schools of any note in the city have taken up the practice of doing home visits--something that I looked up and found highly illegal, but they're doing anyway. I thought I'd mention it, since it's not being acknowledged anywhere--like a lot of really wrong shit that people do to one another. School's here tend to promote ass-kissery instead of intelligence. And while ass-kissery will get you extremely far in this bizarro-verse of a world--intelligence, genuine intelligence is what it takes to change the world. No Child Left Behind, my ass. Lots of children are being left behind within this selective system. It's focus is wrong. It's focus is anti-progressive. It makes life harder than it has to be on the people who could actually grow up and change things. But, somewhere in there, is the very obvious plan of maintenance of  the status quo sameness of certain groups of people. It is a sad and sorry, but very real, state of affairs. 

This city, this shitty nightmare of a mayor fired so many teachers it's a wonder I don't see hordes of them standing in the street with cardboard signs that read: WILL TEACH FOR FOOD.

Word to the wise: A government that does not want an educated populace wants slaves. Brain dead, worker bee, easily controlled, slaves.


Playing: Elder Scrolls: Oblivion; Playing: Fallout Shelter; Wishing for: Vampire Masquerade. Played the tabletop DnD version of Masquerade and Werewolf--because those are things that a dork would do. I've heard nothing but good things about the PC version of Masquerade. Interested in: Fable 1, 2, and 3. Missed those when they were out because I am a PlayStation person and they were made for X-Box? -- the opposition, the enemy


Not writing shit, but did read another really good zombie novel--first three books were free. Left five well-deserved stars, but, again, didn't say shit 'cause talking is for humans and I am a motherfuckin' APE--in the jungle knocking down trees, swinging from vines and shit. 

I really liked the main character in this one. He was relatable in crazy, fucked up family, everybody-leave-me-alone-but-let-me-help-you-though type way. He had a crazy name I thought only I could make up. And, just generally, I liked the dude. Liking him drove the plot because, whatever he was into, I wanted him to LIVE through it. Good book. Good writer. 


I always thought this singer was really pretty. Love the song.



 photo 64e960c345b52181356b3383c11b5185_zps34pu33jo.jpg

Today is gonna suck ASS

And not in a good way...

Going to throw back to the shit that makes me happy and just try to survive it.

"Only thug in the hood that was wild enough to tame me."


Gorilla in the Midst

I would like to correct my Ghostbusters post--the part about Leslie Jones anyway. I said some awful things about her character in the movie, but none of those things was about the actress and person that is Leslie Jones. I've heard that Twitter is all about calling her gorillas and things, and while that's disgusting, there's a couple of things Leslie needs to know:

Leaving the racism that 'doesn't exist' out of things, the first thing that Leslie needs to know about an internet TROLL is that the motherfucker eats pain. It and its kin will say whatever it takes to get a reaction out of you. Internet trolls seek to hurt and maim and kill emotionally. I am very familiar with internet trolls. I seek them out and devour them. I find them fun to play with. They are dangerous, in their way, if you allow them to be. You are the billy goat, Twitter, in this case, is the bridge, and the Trolls lurk in the cesspool underneath reaching up with ragged claws seeking to drag one down into the depths of human misery--which is a place that is utterly bottomless. 

Dear Leslie, I know you will never see this. And even if you did, you'd be like: "Bitch who the fuck are you?"...BAWT...

Don't let them trolls drag you down. Its what they do, and while it can feel like its centered on you, it's just human misery regurgitating itself in vicious chunks. Its why I decided to leave out racism, because trolls will eat anything painful and they prey on the weak. With all that you have accomplished, you are not weak. Therefore, their shit shouldn't bother you. They are the most disgruntled, cowardly, and insignificant of the soul assassins that one has to face in life. And, with as many demons as you have faced in your life to be where you are, doing what you are doing, they should be a cakewalk through a sunny park in July with plenty of ice cream and  sweet friends to keep you company. Srsly.

The second thing to know about internet trolls is that they are all of us--or most, hence, you will get no help from, for example, Twitter, in blocking their tirade of bullshit at your person. People calling you all kinds of monkeys and shit is money, honey. Its a vicious, cannibalistic pain-circle that runs into the billions. 

Ignore the negativity. You are who you are. You did what you did. And that's great. Race is only a factor in that it is an easy thing to use to drag a person. I watched internet trolls kill one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen because he was gay. I'm sure there were other things in his life that cause the actual suicide, but, in the end, the trolls didn't help, and they just kept on going with their miserable lives after he was dead--erecting little temples in his honor, saying how sorry they were that he blew his brains out, slit his wrists, or what the fuck ever--R.I.P.

Man up, biznitch, nobody but your parents and your closest friends are happy for you in this life when you shine bright like a diamond. Stop being shocked about the commonplace, stay acting, and fuck 'em.

Don't feed the trolls. 


I still hate that impostor of a movie though.


Read a pretty good book for the first time in a long while. It was the wind down after a long ass week of absolute torture. I left it five stars but I don't talk, if I can help it, anywhere else but here--My Space (I actually miss Myspace, but...nvm that)...

The book held my attention all the way through even though it was short and free and there are two more that I have to get to complete the story. Author had good characterization and, while the plot wasn't the most different thing in the world, it was different enough for me to know that I'll be reading the rest of it. I'm always looking for good zombie related material and I found some. I truly hope that little Hispanic girl in her post apocalyptic world finds a way to save her parents from the wealthy cannibals that plan on eating them.

Drake is a piece of shit, btw. Seth's cool though in a Jonah Hexx type way.


Below is a beautiful woman. 
I'd like to see more of her--in movies and things.



I'm not going to cheapen the video by saying too much. I realize that the invention of race as a division among people has benefit to some. However, the price keeps getting higher and higher and we humans keep moving further and further away from what being human is. 

We could be beautiful too.

That is all. 


Midnight Ramblings

There's something about my attitude that's all wrong. Let me give a good example:

When I was in the eighth grade, there was a contest mid-year to see who could write the best stuff to read at our eighth grade graduation. We were poor, and this was back when kids like me were killing one another over price-inflated sneakers. I didn't kill anybody, of course. I was just subject to that kind of shit, that kind of fear, because it was all around me, everywhere. 

What I did was read, and my "mommy" braided my hair in four braids like a little kid, and I didn't fit in and by this time I was relatively cool with that already. Such was just the way for me. Didn't really understand it. Just was. It was go crazy or accept. I chose to accept. 

Anywho, I wrote several things for that graduation. And then I forgot about them. I ended up leaving school two weeks early for various reasons. I didn't think I was going to graduation. However, my mother and grandmother got together and got me the prettiest pink dress anyone ever saw, my first pair of heels--short one's, but heels nonetheless, and I got those four braids done in a style that the girls around me were wearing. I showed up for graduation day out the clear blue. No one expected me. We wrote no letters and signed no forms--just showed up at the high school and went to the auditorium. 

I remember feeling really weird all dressed up. From jeans and t-shirts to breasts and heels in what seemed to me at least to be thirty seconds. The boys treated me like they'd never seen me before. The same boys that had been throwing shit at me all year all of a sudden were so very helpful. But... more important than that--more life lesson-y--is the moment when I walked into those big alien auditorium doors, never having been there before, not knowing where I was supposed to be going, tottering on those little pink heels in the stage lit darkness...

...and hearing ... 

"G" is for graduation...it's finally here. 
"R" is for Room 101 where we spent our final year ...

I can't remember the rest of it. I just thought: "Hey, I fuckin' WROTE that..."

And I didn't win the contest and no one told me they were going to use it or any of the other stuff I heard that day as the boys helped me get were I was trying to go with a kindness that I didn't even know they possessed as many spit balls as I pulled out of those braids during the course of the year. Again and again that day, I heard my words ring out over that auditorium. Every thing I'd written, they'd used. Every word. I wrote that graduation. 

I never got a thank you. I never got a 'nice job'. Hell, I never even got told they were going to use my shit at all. Had I not just shown up, I would never have known. Ms. Johnson was my homeroom teacher and her niece, Tiffany, won the contest and was the best, the smartest and most talented. Damnable the things lurking around in one's subconscious, eh? Names. Places. Shit you thought you forgot until nights like these. 

Imagine that. And then imagine going through it about a majillion more times. 

I suppose I'm telling this story because I'm hot-ish and sticky-ish and my landlord is an annoying creeper of epic proportions...and I'm just generally annoyed at the moment. 

But, mostly, I was just thinking about the silence and how very, borishly, familiar it is. 


On the flip side, playing Sims 4 legacy, paused, because I can not allow my sexy sim to get old. He's got plenty of kids though. I think six now. And always hunting for more people to impregnate. His oldest son is pretty sweet though, even if he's kind of bad, and has fallen for a hot piece of ass he has no intention of cheating on. 

Has this young Sim found the love his father brushes away so callously?

Stay tuned for the next exiting episode. 

Okay... not really. I will though. I think I created the roguish thot just to see what he would do in the face of real love. And it's his son, so, he can't just dismiss him. Or that relationship. Thus far, it just seems to be annoying the shit out of him. 


Poor pathetic kind honorable noble decent good beautiful sad heroic Chelsea Manning


Saw the headline: "Another black man killed..." and just looked away. Beginning to sound like "Another day" " Another sky is blue...". How fucked up is that? What kind of monster am I becoming from the inside out?



A Simple Tired Bitch Ranting

I heard about it the day before yesterday, I think, but I avoided it for a whole day. I did not want to feel whatever feeling was going to actually come from knowing. I actually do that sometimes because certain things just do not make sense to me and never did. There are a surprising amount of things on that list. I can not fathom, for example, hating people who haven't done anything to me and who aren't hurting anyone. My wholesale rejection of religion began with this fact about myself. 

However, in avoiding the news about the shooting of a hundred people and the killing of fifty of those people, in hearing a teary eyed person explaining how the EMT's arrived on the scene to gather all those bodies and how they had to listen to the sound of those dead people's cell phone ringing because the people that loved them were trying to get in contact with them because they hadn't come home ...

...I just feel a great and abiding sadness. There's no anger in it this time. I don't feel the need to mock. And the part of me that desperately craves the numbness of being cynical and jaded is awfully, awfully quiet. All there is...is the...ache. The ache at the loss of all those poets and scientists, those creative minds that might have given the world anything uplifting. All those brave people who were courageous enough to love in a world that is trying so damn hard to be loveless. 

Fuck whomever you've got to fuck in order to get ahead. Do it in secret. Do it in the dark. The power of shame and humiliation compels you. What kind of world does that make? What kind of people? But those who want to step into the light--shoot them. Shoot black people, shoot gay people, rape women with your dick (fingers?) and a bottle in some filthy alley and go home afterward because we wouldn't want to ruin your life. She'll be okay--dicks were made for chicks after all--but the male g-spot's in his ass tho, mysteriously.  In a world filled with perpetual war, where money is not real but people are killing and dying for it. Where so few have so much and want more and so many have nothing at all--but there's enough for everyone gifted by the planet itself, so why is anyone homeless or starving again? And religion stands for the illusion of morality. Of course you want to rape that baby, but you'll go to burning stinking hell if you do, so don't, but if you do rape the baby, this god or that one will forgive you.


I don't have that much else to say. I'm head-full-of-stuff rambling as it is. This is a mean county on a human hearts level. This is the country that murdered off the Native Americans and likes to pretend that it didn't (diseased kill them Injuns, you know--like 98%) enslaved, raped and killed the black Africans. This is the country that is in a religious war with the Muslims--in a my-god-is-better-than-your god Pok-e-battle for control of the minds of the planet. America is starting to make Hitler look like an underachieving little bitch. 

Mass shootings like this are a new thing in the amount of them that are happening daily in this country. What is wrong that has caused this kind of increase? This country always had a billion trillion guns. What are we being taught that 1.) makes this okay enough that no one will be talking about it in a week? 2.) has darkened our hearts to the point where a shooting a week is becoming the reality, the fucking NORM?

What a miserable, wrong-thinking kind of place this must be at its core if this kind of shit is okay, yeah?


And you can blame this particular shooting on the Muslims if you want to--but the two books are basically the same. If you teach hatred and intolerance under the guise of your false vision of what love should be--not what it is--what it should be, you never know how that's going to come out in those hearing the message. Hatred has never bred anything GOOD though, has it? The same way that Christianity was taught to say that black people were not even people, or some kind of cursed and, therefore, slavery was okay. Or that the Native Americans were 'savages' and needed indoctrination into Christianity even if it killed them all. It's all the same shit and it leads to the same RESULT. 

Hell, Africa was kept poor and raped constantly for it's resources, but they weren't incarcerating and killing homosexuals over there until the missionaries got done with them. Raping the gay out of the women and just outright killing the men for a while there, weren't they? Now, I think they lock them up forever and a dark day -- like they have the right. 

What kind of god would want you to kill something he took the time to make? Or need your peony ass to do anything the god wants done. The god is a god. That's YOU all sick and twisted like that. That's YOU hating because you want to, because it makes you feel good. Stop making excuses and own your fucked up shit. 

Maybe, then, we can find a way to deal with it.


The Ghostbusters Controversy

Movie Suggestions:

The Hateful Eight: I love Quentin Tarantino movies. I didn't even know this one existed. I am also quite fond of Westerns. It's an interesting mix. Starring: Samuel L. Jackson (hearts) and Kurt Russel (hearts)

Bone Tomahawk: OMFG. I feel like I should issue a warning with this one. There is a scene in this movie that will make you regret all your life decisions. Also starring Kurt Russel (hearts). Also a Western. Also HORROR.

These two I could pick apart for racism, which I might actually start doing. I don't mean the kind of "racism" that's obvious with Tarantino flicks either. The truth isn't racism to me, sorry. I'm speaking more of undertones in Hollywood pictures. The message you're supposed to get at the end. I'll get into that another post and I may be rather useful in that vein considering I've watched enough movies and read enough books to write volumes on these subjects.


The Witch: The kind of shit "feminists" really should be bitching about. Not the movie itself, which is brilliant, but the reasons Pretty Blond Girl makes the choices she's forced to make.

The Boy: Slow claps for the nice twist that I didn't see coming. Perhaps I was having a dense night. I definitely didn't expect much besides Maggie, but this one surprised me.

And now on to the problem. The Ghostbusters War:

"There is no Dana, Only Zuul."
 photo Zuul_zpsvlbgh0pq.jpg

There better be a guy this hot in this fucking movie.

So the misogynists and the femiNazi's are battling the Civil War all over again about why the trailer for the movie induces a sense of loathing in the viewer akin to that which Lovecraft could inspire while waxing philosophical about sweet Cthulhu. The male element is ranting things like: Ghostbusters is a male movie about male bonding and starting a business which is, obviously , a male thing to do. And the female element is ranting the 'anything you can do I can do better' song. And it's all really annoying as, in the end, I think people just like to square up and fight...about anything. 

Look. Ghostbusters (the original, and, honestly, as far as I am concerned, the only one) was a comedy that was smartly done. One of those crossover movies that was both amusing and serious at the same time. A viewer would laugh at the jokes in this movie, but they would also watch intently for the underlying intelligence of the plot. Ghostbusters is a classic because it was flawlessly clever and that had very little to do with the sex organ between the actors legs--but the script, director, level of the actor involved and the charisma those actors brought to the table. 

Within the plot you had people who were doing something crazy and something that had not been done before on the level that they were doing it. They had to be strong and sure about what they were attempting because the whole world was going to tell them that they were crazy for doing it. They could not falter. They could not be confused about their intention. They had to stand up against those that opposed them in this endeavor that the whole world saw as something absolutely ridiculous. Outside of the supernatural element to the movie, this is a feasible situation that anyone doing something new could easily fall into--like the Wright Brothers or the Suffragettes. Here is where the viewer could connect and empathize. Any viewer. Anybody that's ever dreamed anything...greater. Again, sex organs are not important here. Human dreams and human bravery are not confined in the way that sexuality tends to define us. Dreams are, often times, greater than the self, and those who actually manage to accomplish those dreams (and save the city) are even greater than that. 

The new movie gives us a bunch of very unsure characters. The first thing you see when the damn thing opens is them fumbling and questioning themselves and even deciding who is going to say what. While I am sure they are likely quite brave during the course of the film, the trailer, which went for damn near slapstick comedy lacks the finesse of the original film to a degree that made me cringe and think exactly this: "The Hollywood, Don't-Give-A-Fuck-Money-Making-Machine has gotten it's hands on one of my favorite films and reduced it to a Moe, Larry, and Curly short without the talent of Moe, Larry and Curly. Where is the walking charisma that is Peter Venkman? Which one of these women is capable of pulling that off? Where is the overwhelming genius of Egon Spengler? He was awkward, yes, but he was awkward because he was smarter than other people and he was SURE of that. Hence, his awkwardness came with a surety and strength that's hard to reproduce. Which one of these ladies is capable of holding this group of isolated individuals together like Ray did and get them to produce the thing that they would never be able to produce individually--to combine them into one great force that is capable of making this dream come true? 

All I saw was a bunch of insecure fumbling around in the trailer, and it looked to me like someone's cartoonish/buffonish idea of what a woman is instead of actual people who are supposed to be as smart as the characters in this film were. 

Ernie Hudson, 'The Forgotten Ghostbuster' also played his critical role well in humanizing the eggheads for the viewer--giving them something else to cling to in order to empathize with these guys. He was the character who could be any one of us--brilliant in his own way for seeing a worthy endeavor and wanting to be a part of it and brave and good enough as a human being for them to ask him to join them. That character has turned into something so terrifyingly loud and obnoxious that I don't even want to talk about all the things that are wrong there, but, again, I blame the writer/director's 'vision/s' and not vaginas for the fact that I wanted to kill myself after viewing the trailer. 

I do not hate this mess of a film because there are women in it and I am the same person that had some kind of brain hemorrhage when I thought Marvel had turned Thor into a woman for no other reason than to just do it. I think what I hate is the way that women are viewed, and, along with that (and the feminists that are defending this hot mess of a film) the way they view themselves. The world makes it hard but women are capable. As far as I can see, this movie does not showcase that capability in any way. In fact, the trailer does the exact opposite, in my humble opinion.

Add to that, the bulky, ugly, half-assed costumes, the terrible CGI, and the overly hyped 'look this is hilarious extra-comedy-blam-she-fell-down-ain't that funnay tee-hee' feel to the whole thing... and it just lacks everything that made the original movie beautiful. I'm not enthusiastic about it at all. Go watch The Witch instead and try to understand why this shit's like this.


Superhero Woes

 photo 434bc1fa72cb6da2674baf9cd31de35b_zpspcljfd6n.jpg

I have been messing around with the idea of complaining about the Batman vs. Superman movie for a while now. Frankly, I'm tired of complaining about shit, to be honest. I'm giving myself that discontented harpy vibe. At the end of the day, its likely because I'm not writing anything meaningful of late. Writing is therapeutic, and I'm missing mad sessions. Regardless, the movie is a long commercial for the obviously upcoming Justice League films. In being that, it is a disappointment of epic proportions. 

In looking at it, I could only see what it could so easily have been. I have a serious Batman fetish that I've had forever and a dark day. Batman, Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Who (Tom Baker)-- damn smart, crafty, see-right through-you kinds of motherfuckers. I don't just like Batman because he beats ass and takes down "bad guys". I like Batman's personality, his sexuality, his insanity, his bravery, and his brilliance. Usually, while beating ass, you are privy to these parts of him as well, creating a whole experience of that fascinating persona. With this latest movie though, there was a sore lack of all the things that make Batman--Batman

He beat ass okay, though far more clumsily than usual. He was clunky, ungraceful, and ... mean. He didn't show his natural brilliance. The hordes of women that love the part of him that is Bruce Wayne were sorely absent. And...but for Superman, the movie/commercial was painful to watch. I have no complaints about Superman. While he is not Christopher Reeves, he is darker and beautiful in his own way. Superman, in my humble opinion is fuck-nuts anyway. No one walking around with that kind of power could possibly be sane. He does a good job of pretending though, and the actor suits him. 

 photo lead_960_zpsycbhppaj.jpg

Wonder Woman's portrayals over the years pains me. The cartoons and animated movies do her far more justice than any film portrayal since Linda Carter--who was kinda toned down, but so beautiful and true to her role as the times would allow her to be. 
 photo linda-carter-01_zpssx6a1btx.jpg
Every Wonder Woman after her has just kind of been a slut walk downward. For some reason, there is not the same problem with the portrayals of Cat Woman. Getting Wonder Woman's personality right seems ... difficult. Mostly though, she's a hot bitch in a tiny suit with little to no personality. Her personality though is pretty damn cool really. I'd like to see it evidenced on the silver screen properly. [Xena (Lucy Lawless) could have played Wonder Woman, you slow, oblivious fuckers.]

I feel I can voice these complaints because I read this stuff. Tons and Tons and Tons of this stuff, and always have. What I don't know shit about is making movies, so I'll just shut up now about how it's not being done right


Just a few more little notes:

1. I don't care how much 'star power' someone has, they're either capable of playing the role or they aren't. Don't fuck up my experience because of your bullshit, who-stroked-whose-cock politics. And more importantly, don't ruin Batman because of it. Like this cute little kid told me in Walmart yesterday because my crazy ass was wearing Batman pajama's ... "Batman is my favorite..."

2. That's NOT Lex Luthor. He's just NOT. Lex is the second smartest man in the world, he's built like a brick shit house on fire, and he makes bald work for him--Yul Brynner style. Twisted. Alpha. Male. All through the painful commercial, I kept wondering why Superman didn't just break his scrawny neck--not that he would do that--just that I really wanted him to. "Lex" and I use that "Lex" lightly ... didn't even give off the illusion of strength necessary to be a bother to Clark Kent, let alone Superman. And I don't mean physical strength either, just ... strength... inner and outer.

3. Don't promise the twisted masses that they're going to get verbal barbs and genuine competative macho bullshit between the smartest man in the world and the strongest and then give us the stale ass commercial for some other shit. We are not STUPID. You didn't even throw Lois in the middle and make her choose. Wth? That little battle alone would have driven your ... plot. 

4. Doomsday was wrrrroooooonnnnngggggggggg.....

5. Batman is not a sadist. I am. He's not. 

6. The Flash looks pretty good. DON'T FUCK IT UP. Didn't see enough of Cyborg to be able to tell one way or another--but I didn't cringe. Aqua Man looked like he was drowning. How long was he down there before you got the shot? Remember to let the nigga BREATHE. He's supposed to be able to do that underwater, ya know. 

I like the human part of superheros. That is what is endearing. That is what makes them beloved. Like, for example, the fact that Superman is afraid of being experiment on by the government in places like Area 51 because he's an alien--deathly afraid. His poor movies suck because no one will give him anything else to do but the same plot over and over again.

Try harder please. 

And don't lie. My fanficky-ship-hands were ready to write porn ... went into the theater erect...walked out limp as fuck. 


(not really, but it IS the best thing i've seen in a long time; someone else's work and all that)


Goodnight Sweet Prince

 photo e72517dd-c063-401e-bb23-baa6aca3e4df_zpsjwomwe1s.jpg
keep having to change the kiss video because of copyright claims by this one and that one. last copyright claim by: Web Sheriff, a name which i find ... hilariously bullshit. So no more pretty prince dancing around, just the music. at least until the cyber police strike again.

 photo 5e890bac-50c7-485e-9805-a2f346c78fc2_zpsc6oixcbb.jpg

  (5th time putting Kiss, by Prince my second favorite song and video back up; at least he's dancing again;
6th and no dancing--7th: we'd be working on 8th, but I've decided to just acknowledge his physical beauty instead of his talent at this point. I'm not all the big on physical beauty, his talent was far more important to me, but, he was fine af, soo...this ain't so bad...)

This was a beautiful person. He brought me tremendous joy. When Doves Cry touched me in way no other song ever has. I felt that one way down deep. I even liked that crazy Bat Dance song (because Batman is the shiz) and Naughty/Darling Nicky and Diamonds and Pearls and Cream...

I loved the Prince who was a prince because he said he was, and even when he became the sign, he was always a prince to me. 

Dig if you will the picture
Of you and I engaged in a kiss
The sweat of your body covers me
Can you my darling 
Can you picture this?

Dream if you can a courtyard
An ocean of violets in bloom
Animals strike curious poses
They feel the heat
The heat between me and you

How can you just leave me standing
Alone in a world that's so cold (So cold)
Maybe I'm just too demanding
Maybe I'm just like my father too bold
Maybe I'm just like my mother
She's never satisfied (She's never satisfied)
Why do we scream at each other
This is what it sounds like
When doves cry 


Immortal Amaru

 photo 01a31841-9ace-45c0-b79d-a51c1ae0c6b5_zpsubqburps.jpg

(in love with this forever)

Recently heard there's going to be a movie about this person's life. Also heard the producers of the movie are suing/have sued this person's mother for the rights to tell his story...incorrectly.

I'm not going to watch it. I'm not going to pay for it. And I would love for someone who loves him to make a movie that I could watch and would pay for.

I'd write it...but I would definitely turn him into an immortal vampire...




Nothing to say really, just a message to impart. Of course, it has to be in the form of a song:

This ain't my song.
This ain't my dance. 
It's just beautiful.

The news is depressing. Absolute mind-numbing madness. I try not to pay attention, but it's nearly impossible with all the insanity going on--people dying for nothing, other people getting erections from watching the news coverage (aka televised snuff films) of people dying for nothing. 

We shall over come
We shall over come
We shall over come


Peace in my heart
I do believe

^^ I remember singing that--believing it.


It's bad when you're sitting here trying to think of something worth saying. While this blog is a Dead Space ( shudder, horrifying games) I feel obligated not to let the fucking thing die on my account. So, every once in a while, I have to crawl out of the beauty of Anon and come over here and think of something to say to fill up space. 

Sooo... what shall I blather on about? The nightmarish, cartoon-like election? The fact that I've gained some appreciation for the police saving my arse lately? The fact that I am deeply immersed in the Fallout universe--playing two games at once--and almost didn't shoot Benny in the face because, for just a second, boning that little weasel was way more important to me than giving the bitch the death he so rightly deserved?

Sure. All that. Why not?

1. The election is bullshit. Better candidates are standing around garbage cans under bridges talking to themselves about the aliens that control everything. Hilary's racist. Trump's racist. And I know nothing about Sanders--not really. Nothing against the last candidate and, if I do vote in this meaningless joke of a mess, it'll probably be for that one, but, most likely, I won't even bother. They're all the same puppet except one of them has a vagina. I am less worried as to whether a woman will be president and more worried if she'll be a GOOD one, and that person has said some things/holds some basic beliefs that ... make me sick--Trump sick. I would have shown up on election day for the young, intelligent, Dez Nuts. I liked him. 

2. Police are people. Some bad. Some good. The system they operate under is corrupt. Being corrupt is rewarded in a corrupt system, and being decent is punished. Its an ugly little circle where the power hungry asshats hold all the power and the humans better shut their fucking mouths--just like everything else. Shit always. Always. Floats to the top. It's just the people way. I don't hate the police. I fear them. And, the other day, I needed them and they were there. Correct the unjust system and the police will be corrected. Much like correcting the Catholic Church at its core--making them pay taxes and holding them accountable--will correct the shuffling around of all these roguish pedophiles from church to church like a plague on little kids. But if you tell a group of people that they can do whatever they want and get away with it--they'll do whatever they want and get away with it. And the decent ones involved will be quiet because the bad guys, unlike 'decent' folk,  Always, Always make you pay. 

3. Benny.  Shot my character in the face at the beginning of the game and then he and his goons buried him in a ditch. He's a little scumbag in a checkered coat that one chases all over the Mojave seeking revenge. Basically though, it wasn't personal. He was just looking out for him. He's kind of cute in rat-bastard kind of way. And begs for his life quite poetically. Did not save him. But it was close.

Fallout's a nice series. It's not quite Skyrim nice (drrragons) but it's pretty awesome. Bethesda makes good shit. Bioware's (Dragon Age/Mass Effect) still better. 


And that's all the meaningless bs I can conjure right now. 

Remember this?


Magic Dance

 photo cf6b2219-dbd4-4a0e-8996-72c829e21ce7_zpsse7g5ves.jpg

It's weird to be in love with someone forever. And, yet, I can't call what I felt for this beautiful thing any less than the love that it was. And while I fell in love with him in this movie, the character and the man, he was just a kind of beautiful person all around. I'm going to miss this one ... sorely. 

The Goblin King in Seduction of the Fae was based upon him, that's how deep the rabbit hole goes. And I remember back when the reviews were good, that someone asked me if I would write a story based upon that singular character and I said yes, but never did it. I regret that because love would have made that story pretty fucking great, I think. 

Of course, Labyrinth was only a small part of this gorgeous person. But it was the first time I notice him and though: "Wow...how shiny. How brilliant and glittery and golden."

There's such a sad love 
Deep in your eyes
A kind of pale jewel
Open and closed
Within your eyes
I'll place the sky
Within your eyes...

 photo 404322-david-bowie-640x366_zpswdl5o1sx.jpg

He made such beautiful music and said sane things in a world that desperately seems to want to be insane. He tried to make the world better, and for that I erect this tiny little temple.

I also heard that he started out as a mime. Gotta respect the big brass balls.