'Little Mermaid Diary' entry

'late night time' Aug 1990

I think I dont like big people.
Big people are mean.
I hope God makes a storm tomorrow.
Storms always make me feel powerful, I feel big, even though I think I should feel small.

But no, I feel big.
I hope it rains.

(Paging 7 year old self, only one of my many masks that I enjoyed wearing.
miss you. stay shiny, stay silly, stay 7)

Wish-tatus

I have finally come face-to face, full circle, with my non-effasive mortality. I have also noticed, of late, how much 'pseudo-intellectual' repartee bores me, give me perverse wit and zany neurosis any day! Bloody hell, how i shall ever aspire to writing columns, while simultaneously nurturing such an active abhorrence for all things "sane", is beyond me. There goes my dream of one fine day litterati 'ish'tatus.

Another acute observation to have hit me of late is the fact that being viewed as "pretty" pisses the hell out of me. No seriously! I think its the greatest insult for someone to assume im worth their time and attention because of a 70 rs tube of lip gloss and the inane colours that I splash myself, for MY benefit ( I SWEAR, mine mine mine). Yet perversely my passive-agressive self continues to take great pleasure in dressing 'down' to my insane mismatched lack of fashion sensibilities. Another farewell hiatus to my dream of one fine day glitterati 'ish"tatus.

Another brick in the wall continues to be my struggle with faith. This one is a real bummer folks, no seriously... I can regress people, I can do weird things with stones and cards and pendulums, I can see weird stuff and beautiful stuff. But I cant figure out what I see, or where it comes from. Oh yes, i KNOW it all comes from The Man (hmm... on second thought the creator of THE Man, wait that was the first thought, but Orwell just screwed with my brains), but which version, which edition. Apparently my status as 'flitterati' is wholesome and intact.
Hoop La

Pray tell, voices in my head...my dilemma is this

hypocicatio 'de Conde pondeu

Give me my page, dear Dear Wormwood...
for I live among the world of Men.

Soar

Try Try again…
Soldered dreams in sight
Molded delusions respite

Fanciful demons ignite?
Tangible sermons recite?

Play your circle game of “woulda, coulda’ shoulda’s”
Only ‘real’ reality shatters shame, sweetheart

Miles of aisles filling up all that you don’t know
Pitiful piles crowning your grandeur shrine

Make it, make it…stupid 'little' girl

Cut it, hack it, crave it, clasp it

Just an out of reach seven-letter word to shut the world up
Branded 'success' to finally sleep sound

“Proved your point, have you Don Juan’s reckless daughter?"

Where is it?
What is it?
Repeat the question.

No tamer of tigers
Only the lonely hunk of meat in ‘dog eat dog’ land

Float on your turbulent indigo sea
Fail, flail, sail
Never soar.

Bitch Slapped

For the random, perverted 'son of a bitch',
who i "oh-so-thankfully" slapped today...
Hello asshole, Who the hell do you think you are?
Just because a reporter happens to be female, and 'happens' to have a camera taking pictures... in what 'bloody-fuck-ass planet' does that make her approachable to you as a prospect, in a public place.
For today, I actively intend to harbour my immense disgust at the 'male' race and their sick twisted, minds.
Heres to hoping that Asma Jehangir becomes President for a week, and announces 'The mass castration of all males" a mandate. Just so you bloody bastards can keep it "in" or off as it may be.
ps: For u two bloody cops sitting by just to see the show, your first in line.

Snippity snip snip.

* This public service message is brought to you by a non-smoking, non-feminist, pacifist monk.

Toon Trouble

Am back with a latest gulity pleasure, much as i loathe having to succumb to the decidedly fruitless flavours of Cartoon network, with its butt-baring, chicken crossing the road, Ed 'but-much' philosophies. I have to partake this new, adult brand of cartoons, for saying "oh-so" much-ala- too much...ala much-too-much!

I mean just look at 'Kim Possible';a cartoon that factors largely around a self-effaced love for mexican food, shines much needed lime light on small, rodent mammals without fur, along with "female" indiana jones-ing... i mean now that's a theism i can really get behind.Wait a minute, KP is Disney! See some allegiances never change.

Although I do fear the wrath of the almighty and Disney himself, for my subtle shift in allegiances. I the former sad, solitary, wanderer who thrived on "Part of this World", "Kiss the girl" odes, (sigh) having shifted over to effortless animation and inane repartee, 'sheesh' how the not-so mighty have fallen. Damn political awareness and pseudo-intellectualism!

Please oh please! my crab compatriots under the seas, spare me this switch-snitch, i still vow to keep my 'Vow'. "I solemnly swear to never lay a hand, fork or taste-bud on Crab", out of sheer respect for your geniosity and support...My dear "Dear" Sebastian.

Tinsel Town

Caramel palaces for my teenage drama queen,
Tinsel town trash trapped 10 feet deep, in Times-square plasma screens.

Come on baby don’t you cry,
Daddy’s out to buy, buy, buy

Squirt out fortune roulette wheels
Scrabble serenades of tarot truth
That’s all it is isn’t it baby?
A bit of scrabble,
A string of words for a smile on your face
Seven chipped letters to an “Its Okay”

I know it burns, burns, burns child…
But don’t you worry
Daddy’s all out to buy, buy, buy

Am of late, experiencing the mind numbing solace which goes along with being a working-class hero, in a middle-class morals, corporate cache'. am also finding it increasingly ironic that my bohemian, artist-self is not yet screaming with unbridled candor from the rooftops at the drail town drudgery of hearing the same conversations and seeing the same typo's day in, day out.

Have been dismally disillusioned by ' THE MAN'; he aint got no sense of humor, no sense of bloody adventure, and working for him sucks. But then again it pays, so we fools compromise.

yep, the mind numbing numbness of routine, how do people stand it? but then again, we live to learn or so they say, ive always figured it for the opposite. Now i sit my days waiting for my shift to be over, to go home, read a book, drink a coke, write something...short of using electro-shock, i am determined to try "everything" else to help spurt back some of my looniness, back into my life, being 'sane' sucks!