avarwaen: (yawn)
A couple nights ago I typed this bit of text to myself through my phone:

Did you know that light falls down wells when you're not looking? That the Sun travels across continents while you walk in darkness? Stars collide and the violently harmonious dance of the galaxy continues as you sit and read word after word after word...

Inspired by my reading of Haruki Murakami's The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, which I have now finished.

It wasn't that long ago that the very idea of leaving myself a message on anything other than paper would seem absurd.


It has been storming for hours and everything feels wrong. Usually I like a good thunderstorm, but today I feel as if it mocks my inability to break free of this fleshy prison and scatter across the sky, dancing with the lightning bolts. I want to take action, but a part of me freezes and warns of a terrible consequence. It makes me feel queasy, like I'm being violently jerked around by minuscule, compulsive movements.

It has been difficult to pin down the course of my dreams, but some have come through. On the morning of my birthday I dreamt that David Bowie was my father and he visited me to perform an impromptu concert in a small amphitheater. Days after that, I dreamt of war and the murder and imprisonment of thousands of children. I was all of the children and none of them at the same time. Some killed themselves before the war reached their dwelling. Others hid and held their breath, but always they were found. And still others made a final stand, knowing that it was hopeless, but wishing to die defending themselves. The rest were chained up and worked in caves. I scurried through the natural pores of the rocks and outcroppings, tending to the sick when I could. One girl I found was choking - she'd swallowed a ball of string. I didn't know if she'd meant to or if she was just that hungry. I managed to get her breathing again, but her blank eyes did not seem to register that she was still alive.


Yesterday I visited the Frazier History Museum in Louisville. My guide was a new friend I made through the Internet. He knew the answer to just about every question I asked and then some. Most of the displays were centered around weapons throughout the ages, my favorite being the swords and various pieces of armour from around the world. There was even a live sword fighting demonstration that was pretty impressive.

We also visited a book store, coffee shop, two restaurants, and a mall. It was quite the adventure.

It's nice to be near a big city again. There are so many things to see and do, and it is much easier to find people with similar interests. Of course, it comes with expenses. So it goes.

Eight hours now, and it's still raining. Fortunately my mood has shifted.


Dear Internet Gods,

Please send me a kotatsu before the arrival of winter.

Yours Truly,

avarwaen: (dr glasses)
Today's dream featured Matt Smith as the Doctor and myself standing in as Amy Pond for recorded rehearsals. First it was challenging yet fun, and we went so far as to rewrite lines of dialogue that didn't sound authentic. Then it was sexy. Then it turned into a murder mystery when his girlfriend drowned in a pool during a swimming contest and everyone thought I'd killed her.

The other day my partner and I stopped by a coin laundry where I met a South Korean man lounging behind the front desk. He leaned back in his chair and unconsciously lifted his t-shirt just enough to rub his stomach as he questioned my accent, saying that it sounded more British than Southern. Then he told me about moving to the U.S. in the 70's. I gave him five dollars to put our laundry in the dryer while I was gone.

The kitten, who we have dubbed Towel due to his affinity for sleeping on towels and my partner's habit of using him as a hand towel when he is being naughty, has been keeping me busy night and day mixing up milk formula every few hours, vainly attempting to calm him down at 3 am, and keeping him away from electrical cords. When he gets really excited his entire head vibrates as if it is about to explode. I'm not sure if this is normal. It's been a while since I've had a kitten indoors.

It is currently one-two-three-four PM. Good afternoon, Tuesday.
avarwaen: (jeeves wooster)
I moved from Alabama to Kentucky during the first week of July. Since then, my dreams have been disconnected and alien. Like I've stumbled into someone else's dream world, and I'm still getting used to decoding it.

In one, I was in a future where the world was controlled by service industries that apportioned tasks to different social classes and essentially rewrote history to support the system. An underground rebellion was forming, quite literally underground, and an audio recording of A.A. Milne speaking on anarchy had become the new topic of conversation among the cigarette smoking, coffee drinking rebels of this new world.

Why A.A. Milne, I have no idea. I guess no one expected the writer of Winnie-the-Pooh to speak out so acrimoniously.

I also remember being in the back of an English style cab with my previous landlords (a husband and wife). The man was telling me how his great-grandmother lived in Ireland and managed to raise $7,000 during very hard times. It took all of five minutes for a man to beat her and steal her money.

"It was incredible," he shook his head. "All of it gone so fast."

I waited for him to look at me. "Anyone can steal. I think it is far more incredible that she worked diligently to raise that much money for her family."

He smiled at that and thanked me.

All I seem to want to do lately is drink coffee or tea, ponder things, sleep, and read. I'm overdue for an appointment with a psychiatrist, but my health insurance won't begin in Kentucky until at least August 1st. So I'm biding my time until then.
avarwaen: (hang)
Today I had a professional hour-long massage bestowed upon my aching muscles by a lovely Chinese woman who kept telling me to relax. It's not often I pamper myself in these ways - in fact, this was my first professional massage - but it is my birthday month, I woke up with another pulled muscle in my shoulder, and after I asked my partner to gently rub it he said that I should get a massage immediately. My shoulder and neck muscles have a way of hardening into brick walls without my noticing.

So, that was a lovely experience that I apparently felt a need to justify.

I've also been taking care of a kitten that appears to have a death wish. When he was still unable to walk, he somehow managed to choke himself on some loose threads in the lining of a suitcase. I had to cut him free. Then he dislocated an ankle, presumably after falling from a foot stool while sleeping. His splint lasted 2 days before I had to cut it off because he was losing circulation to his paw.

Now that he has mostly healed, he attacks everything in sight indiscriminately. When my partner went to drop him off at his new home, he attacked the woman's adult cat and then refused to let go of my partner's pants leg. So we're hiding him in our new apartment until we find a suitable home. In the meantime I am gathering a collection of scratches on my hands, feet, and legs.

It's hard to stay angry with such an adorable kitten. But he does his best.

Tonight is a perigee moon (aka Supermoon), the first of three this summer. I envision bathing in the moonlight filtered through my window. In reality, it will probably be battling with my computer screen as I catch up on work.

The Earth keeps turning...
avarwaen: (Mikal)
"They say that it's best to tell someone 'I'm sorry for your loss'. Some people avoid acknowledging it..." she trailed off. "Do you know the story about the horse on the table?"

I thought for a moment. "Is it like the elephant in the room? Everyone pretends it isn't there."

"Yes, exactly like that."
avarwaen: (Default)
"The Force Trainer (expected to be priced at $90 to $100) comes with a headset that uses brain waves to allow players to manipulate a sphere within a clear 10-inch-tall training tower, analogous to Yoda and Luke Skywalker's abilities in the Star Wars films."

[USA Today article.]
avarwaen: (dr glasses)
A twenty-six year old named Matt Smith. He will be the youngest actor to play the Doctor.


Nov. 16th, 2008 01:30 am
avarwaen: (dr glasses)
I cannot avoid posting this.

The first two minutes of the Doctor Who Christmas special aired tonight. It is on the Children in Need site, but is once again restricted to region. So here's the dirty YouTube version:

Oh, yes. This makes me happy.
avarwaen: (Default)
After not writing for ages, a little meme brings me back for a spell. Thanks for the thought, [livejournal.com profile] setsuled.

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 56.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next seven sentences in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don't dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.
6. Tag five other people to do the same.

I'll admit, I opted for Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse over the unabridged Webster's New Twentieth Century Dictionary that is nearby. Picking the closest book is a bit difficult when there are literally thousands stacked, boxed, or perpetually drifting around me. Anyway, in this passage Bertram Wooster is referring to a centerpiece he spies at his host's dinner table:

In any normal house it would have been a bowl of flowers or something on that order, but this being Totleigh Towers it was a small black figure carved of some material I couldn't put a name to. It was so gosh-awful in every respect that I presumed it must be something he had collected recently. My Uncle Tom is always coming back from sales with similar eyesores.

"That's new, isn't it?" I said, and he started violently. I suppose he'd just managed to persuade himself that I was merely a mirage and had been brought up with a round turn on discovering that I was there in the flesh.

"That thing in the middle of the table that looks like the end man in a minstrel show. It's something you got since . . . er . . . since I was here last, isn't it?"

Tactless of me, I suppose, to remind him of that previous visit of mine, and I oughtn't to have brought it up, but these things slip out.

To view the first episode of Jeeves and Wooster, just follow this handy YouTube playlist. There's also a preview for those who do not wish to open new windows:

avarwaen: (Default)
Thy shadow, Earth, from Pole to Central Sea,
Now steals along upon the Moon's meek shine
In even monochrome and curving line
Of imperturbable serenity.

How shall I link such sun-cast symmetry
With the torn troubled form I know as thine,
That profile, placid as a brow divine,
With continents of moil and misery?

And can immense Mortality but throw
So small a shade, and Heaven's high human scheme
Be hemmed within the coasts yon arc implies?

Is such the stellar gauge of earthly show,
Nation at war with nation, brains that teem,
Heroes, and women fairer than the skies?

- Thomas Hardy
avarwaen: (ergo)
Softly touch my left hand
It feels likes butter
Melting on plastic
That is panic
That is confusion
Seven dreams I had
Are all coming true
But I wake up and I see
Ceiling, white, blurring
I only wish for everything
And then I may be less sad
There are people
There are countries dying
And I still presume to complain
That my heart is longing
Deeply stroke me
Remove my needs, for a while
And soften my senses
Those that prick so harshly
Every day, each singular day
Tongues slide easily over honey
So beguile me, so comfort me
I cannot live
Touch me

- James Mulligan
avarwaen: (saya)
CANCER (June 21-July 22): Are your cohorts looking at you quizzically, wondering why you seem so energized from exploring the shadowy, off-limits places? I'll offer some suggestions about what you could say to them. First, try to make them see that until you've risked going too far, you may not know when to stop. Second, tell them that you suspect there are healthy desires buried at the roots of your dark feelings, and you're hoping to free them. Third, explain to them that you're not picking at your scabs in order to prolong your hurt, but rather to better understand the hurt. If those rationales are too subtle for your companions to understand, cackle softly and say that you just need to be a little bad in order to give your goodness more soul.


Hose down the dead
Before they die, before they die
Hose down the dead
Before they die, before they die
Do you hear a dying fire, a dying fire
Oh, can you feel a golden soul

I put the ovaries in my mouth
And all the dogs won't die
And the devil will call the cats home
And he looks up to the sky
I put the ovaries in my mouth
And all the dogs won't die
And the devil will call the cats home
And he looks up to the sky

Hose down the dead
Before they die, before they die
Hose down the dead
Before they die, before they die

- Devendra Banhart
avarwaen: (river)
You said the anger would come back
just as the love did.

I have a black look I do not
like. It is a mask I try on.
I migrate toward it and its frog
sits on my lips and defecates.
It is old. It is also a pauper.
I have tried to keep it on a diet.
I give it no unction.

There is a good look that I wear
like a blood clot. I have
sewn it over my left breast.
I have made a vocation of it.
Lust has taken plant in it
and I have placed you and your
child at its milk tip.

Oh the blackness is murderous
and the milk tip is brimming
and each machine is working
and I will kiss you when
I cut up one dozen new men
and you will die somewhat,
again and again.

- Anne Sexton
avarwaen: (shoe)
The Dresden Dolls' new "Shores of California" music video.

"Starring: Amanda Palmer, Liam Kyle Sullivan (of "Kelly Likes Shoes"), David J. (Bauhaus), Margaret Cho, Jason Webley, the incredible Dresden Dolls Brigade, and more."

avarwaen: (Default)
No time to write. Here are Rosencrantz and Guildenstern...

avarwaen: (garbo)
The town does not exist
except where one black-haired tree slips
up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.
The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die.

It moves. They are all alive.
Even the moon bulges in its orange irons
to push children, like a god, from its eye.
The old unseen serpent swallows up the stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die:

into that rushing beast of the night,
sucked up by that great dragon, to split
from my life with no flag,
no belly,
no cry.

- Anne Sexton


Oct. 31st, 2006 09:22 pm
avarwaen: (cthulhu)
All Hallows Eve — when ghosts do walk the earth:
All Hallows Eve — O light and fireside mirth!
Ah, leave the gay revel and the merry din,
Set the door upon the latch and let the ghosts in.

There comes no dream-lover stepping from the lane,
No pitiful white creature a-beating at the pane:
There is no herb to be gathered nor spell to be said,
And still in the grey graveyard lie the waiting dead.

When the shadows gather, in a room apart,
To the still glow of the firelight, to the dreaming heart,
Far from the loud frolic and the dancers' din,
Friendly out of the gloaming the dear ghosts come —

Come, when the wind wakens like an olden song,
With smiles half-forgotten and voices lost long, —
With a well-beloved footstep lingering at the door,
Hands full of old posies that smell sweet as of yore . . .

All Hallows Eve — when dreams do rule on earth!
All Hallows Eve — O the feasting and the mirth!
Ah, leave the loud laughter and the dance and din,
Set the door upon the latch and let the ghosts in.

Cicely Fox Smith

An October Evening )


Oct. 18th, 2006 06:41 pm
avarwaen: (kneel)
Like the little stream
Making its way
Through the mossy crevices
I, too, quietly
Turn clear and transparent.

Taigu Ryokan
avarwaen: (bnn2)
Or how [livejournal.com profile] setsuled drew me into the latest chapter of Boschen and Nesuko, because he's awesome like that. If you hadn't already guessed by my nifty new icon, I appear topless. So go take a look.

After you read the chapter, you'll probably want to get yourself one of these stylish Zai'Pi shirts. Be sure to get one for your friends, too. They will be forever grateful. (I know I would.)

Embrace the snail.


Sep. 7th, 2006 09:22 pm
avarwaen: (kneel)
Color floods to the spot, dull purple.
The rest of the body is all washed-out,
The color of pearl.

In a pit of a rock
The sea sucks obsessively,
One hollow the whole sea's pivot.

The size of a fly,
The doom mark
Crawls down the wall.

The heart shuts,
The sea slides back,
The mirrors are sheeted.

Sylvia Plath
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