today's anagram

june 14th, 2006
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9:26pm

by patricia smith:

Medusa

Poseidon was easier than most.
He calls himself a god,
but he fell beneath my fingers
with more shaking than any mortal.
He wept when my robe fell from my shoulders.

I made him bend his back for me,
listened to his screams break like waves.
We defiled that temple the way it should be defiled,
screaming and bucking our way from corner to corner.
The bitch goddess probably got a real kick out of that.
I'm sure I'll be hearing from her.

She'll give me nightmares for a week or so;
that I can handle.
Or she'll turn the water in my well into blood;
I'll scream when I see it,
and that will be that.
Maybe my first child
will be born with the head of a fish.
I'm not even sure it was worth it,
Poseidon pounding away at me, a madman,
losing his immortal mind
because of the way my copper skin swells in moonlight.

Now my arms smoke and itch.
Hard scales cover my wrists like armour.
C'mon Athena, he was only another lay,
and not a particularly good one at that,
even though he can spit steam from his fingers.
Won't touch him again. Promise.
And we didn't mean to drop to our knees
in your temple,
but our bodies were so hot and misaligned.
It's not every day a gal gets to sample a god,
you know that. Why are you being so rough on me?

I feel my eyes twisting,
the lids crusting over and boiling,
the pupils glowing red with heat.
Athena, woman to woman,
could you have resisted him?
Would you have been able to wait
for the proper place, the right moment,
to jump those immortal bones?

Now my feet are tangled with hair,
my ears are gone. My back is curving
and my lips have grown numb.
My garden boy just shattered at my feet.

Dammit, Athena,
take away my father's gold.
Send me away to live with lepers.
Give me a pimple or two.
But my face. To have men never again
be able to gaze at my face,
growing stupid in anticipation
of that first touch,
how can any woman live like that?
How will I be able
to watch their warm bodies turn to rock
when their only sin was desiring me?

All they want is to see me sweat.
They only want to touch my face
and run their fingers through my . . .

my hair

is it moving?

8:11pm

wow, everyone is so quiet today.

7:50pm

firestarter by prodigy.
ya.
mmm.

6:45pm

how did it get to be so late all of a sudden?
dang!

5:25pm

i'm not getting anything done, except dancing around and releasing my energy and drooling over things i want.
dancing to caesars palace jerk it out

i'm so happy to find the video of marty casey doing "mr. brightside" on the rockstar inxs show.

http://www.martycasey.org/videos.htm

that was the night he won me over.

oh, and you gotta see when he covers britney spears "hit me baby one more time"
oh god. such a cool rendition. his eyes. *swoon*

too bad he is 6'2" tall. god that is tall.
that's too tall for me.
but maybe if i wore high heels and stood on a chair we could make it work for a bit.
ya, we can work it out.

*drool sigh drool sigh*

what is my DEAL?
i swear to god my whole body is just aching to bite into something.
i can't get flesh out of my mind.
i want a harem.

i think i deserve one by now.

oh oh oh and see him doing "wish you were here" by pink floyd.
*falls over and dies*
ya, i guess this is my porn.
or like watching psychedelic furs videos.
that's my porn.
wanna know what gets me hot?
richard butler in leather pants singing into you like a train.
into like a trrrrrrraaaaaainnnnn.

bryan ferry in leather pants singing anything. he really doesn't even need to sing.
well, mmm, no, i think i'd just like him silent. in leather pants.
i didn't know he was sexy until i saw him live.
got me so worked up i did fuck the bass player that night who thought i was like natassia kinski in catpeople and i wasn't even doing anything weird.
black guys think ANYTHING is kinky. at least the ones i have met.
i mean, even in the rick james song superfreak...he thinks she's so kinky because she has incence and candles and he thinks that is a "freaky scene"
haha :)
oh god tho that guy , who shall remain nameless but is one of the world's biggest jazz bassist session musicians.
LAME IN BED.
lame lame lame.
how can someone play a bass that good and be so lame in bed?
it's a tragedy.
story of my LIFE i swear.
and i always get the bass players.
like nigel from blondie (good good gooooood, oh where oh where are you now nigel?)
and like the one from daniel ashe's band.
another lame-o. nice accent tho.

ok, i gotta get my mind off of him because that's bumming my high.

who else can i think about in leather pants?
ooo, christopher walken..
oh god that is really the motherlode right there.
i would probably explode into a billion pieces if i was allowed to be near that.
but not before eating him like a 7 course dinner on fire.

ooo, someone's gonna get pounced on, and only he knows who he is.
oh ya.
you know it, baby.
rrrrrrr.

i'm pacing my room like a cat.
what do i do with this energy?
i guess dance some more.
i'm at a loss!
i'm making a bath.
then i'll get some cokes.
then i'll try to dance myself silly.
wear myself out.
8 years of repression leaking out of me like dripping amber drops from the sun.

i'm just going to have to get myself my own leather pants.
and then i'll look in the mirror and pretend i am richard butler and fuck myself.

mmm, keith richards in leather pants with that cigarette hanging from his lips.
i don't care if he looks like death warmed over.. give me his pirate ass.
oh god, DUH! johnny depp in leather pants. hello?
how is it he did not even come into my consciousness until right this moment?
amazing.

the only thing wrong with him is that i wish he would just call himself john.
i don't like when people make their names to sound like boys.
i don't like boys i like men.

oooo, i know someone from my past i can call up one of these days.
mmmmmaybe.
PERFECT kisser but SO sulky in demeanor.
it turns me off. i hate sulkers.

he wrote me an email the other day and gave me his phone # and then reminded me that i probably would not call it.
*sulk sulk sulk*
ya, you're right i'm NOT going to call you if you SULK about it.
duh.

ok, i need to lose him off my mind.

ok i had to go watch marty casey to just get that thought out of my head.

oh and then there are the categories of men who look good in suits.
mmmmmm,, a really fine suit.
with boots.
or just boots, period.
or at the very least black leather shoes that buckle.

christopher walken in black armani suit.
oh ya.
george clooney in a suit. mmm hmmm.
ohmigod that irish guy with the talk show at night...lord.
oh just the irish in general.
let me fuck the entire country, basically.
damn the irish, their magically delicious.

oh bono! in leather pants....
or the edge..well, really any of them.
all of U2, pronto...helicoptered in.
all wearing leather pants.
that drummer. ya.

wow, the thought of that is almost too overwhelming for me to consider.

that's like the guy's fantasy to have twins.

i'd devour bono and make the edge have to watch.
make him wait.
tie him to a chair so there is nothing he can do about it.
mmm, bono from behind and larry to kiss in the front, i pull his hair and look straight into his eyes.
make him drum on me.
*insert a huge long and detailed fantasy i just had here, too much to even write down*
the edge is forced to watch.
the bass player can do what he wants, i haven't enough room in this fantasy for him.
sorry dude.
but you can watch, too.

hahah, i should write erotic stories about my fantasies with U2.
i've never liked reading erotic stories. they do nothing for me.
but this one entry by a certain persoon in LJ one day got me pretty damn hot, and i was not expecting that.
she thinks like i do in this way.
she really described it well. ya, you know who you are and i'd fuck you, too
eyeing the person you want from across the room and honing in on your target. ya.
i can do that really really well.

i just wish i had some sort of fuck-o-meter that would tell me on what scale he is good in bed.
like "good to look at but move on"
"perfect cock but shitty kisser"
"uh, that one's gay, honey...and yep that one is too.."

ok i'll stop and take a bath.
and then as deiter says on sprockets "and now is the time that we must dance"

oh side note, sites that have that right click disabled thing going on can kiss my ass.

all you have to do is just "view source" and take it anyway.

p.s. oh adam how did i forget thee?

stand and motherfucking deliver.

i'd do ya.
some one needs to tell adam this.
i've been trying to get the word out on that for the last few decades.
damn, i don't care what condition his is in.
give him to me drooling and in a straight jacket.

i love you adam and always will.
your ass is so mine someday even if we have to do it on your deathbed.

4:58pm

*does a maniacal dance to "hey ya" by outkast*
gettin' my groove back.
gotta dance.

4:40pm

ok, no more writing and wistful sighing and driving myself bonkers with thoughts of sex in the middle of highways or just against something really smooth hard, like a marble table top.

time to eat something and get some shit done.
like hook up the freaking business computer.

song playing:
caesar's palace "jerk it out"
this pretty much sums up how i feel at this minute.
*does the snoopy dance*

Jerk It Out

Wind me up
Put me down
Start me off and watch me go
I'll be running circles around you sooner than you know
A little off center
And I'm out of tune
Just kicking this can along the avenue
But I'm alright

Coz it's easy once you know how it's done
You can't stop now
It's already begun
You feel it
Running through your bones

And you jerk it out
And you jerk it out

Shut up
Hush your mouth
Can't you hear you talk too loud
No I can't hear nothing cause I got my head up in the clouds
I bite off anything that I can chew
I'm chasing cars up and down the avenue
But that's ok

Coz it's easy once you know how it's done
You can't stop now
It's already begun
You feel it
Running through your bones

So you jerk it out

Coz it's easy once you know how it's done
You can't stop now
It's already begun
You feel it
Running through your bones

And you jerk it out
And you jerk it out
And you jerk it out
And you jerk it out
Oh baby don't you know you really gotta jerk it out
When you jerk it out baby don't you know you really gotta jerk it out
When you jerk it out baby don't you know you really gotta jerk it out

4:22pm

i wrote ingrid a long email.
i guess i am in the mood to write today.
write and bleed.
but so much i can't really talk about a lot because it involves talking about other people's stuff and sometimes there are things i cannot talk about openly.

i am glad i have her as an outlet to write to.
i like it, it feels protecting. like talking to a sister i never had but always wanted.

hopefully, she finds my emails enjoyable and not too long to stand.

it's still up in the air of whether or not she will be coming here. it's still being worked out.
she asked if she could stay at my house if she comes.
i said certainly!
how fun would that be?
we want to make weird movies together.
and if we hate them at the end, we can go burn them by the river.
no one has to know or ever see them.
maybe they will exist only for a moment or not at all.
i am starting to take pleasure in secrets now.
i guess because my life has been such an open book, and still is to a large degree.
it gives me an extra little sense of satisfaction to have some things to myself that no one knows or very few people know.
and i don't have to feel this urge to document it and let it be known to the entire world.

i should work on my floors so that if ingrid comes, they are silver for her.
i would like to do things to delight her.
things like this make me happy now.
it feels purposeful.
i am cultivating things.

the dogs are doing the happy lion dance on the bed right now.

4:00pm

ingrid showed me a new word:

pal·imp·sest
n.
A manuscript, typically of papyrus or parchment, that has been written on more than once, with the earlier writing incompletely erased and often legible.
An object, place, or area that reflects its history: “Spaniards in the sixteenth century... saw an ocean moving south... through a palimpsest of bayous and distributary streams in forested paludal basins” .

interesting article on the cute and it's meaning in japan vs. the west

i got my period, yay!
and jason got a condo. he is signing the papers right now.
so weird.
so so weird.

it's really humid today.
i have my air conditioning on but it seems to be barely making a dent in it.
i don't know what to do with this day.
i feel simultaneaouly depressed and excited.
filled with electricity but meloncholy.

i have a big zit on my chin that is making me feel ugly and i just can't get rid of it.
argh.

i have so many things i SHOULD do.
like haul my business computer in here and figure out how to connect it to this device i got so i can use both computers with one monitor.
not my idea of fun.

all i can think about it sex.
sex sex sex.
now that i've had a little it's like pandora's box.
and i want to fuck everything , even the lamp posts to make up for the last 8 years.

i'm thinking of dying my hair red again.
i just can't decide.

i just want red hair, red wine, sit here and bleed, and fuck til kingdom come.
basically. i just want to completely indulge and luxuriate.
but the real world needs my attention.

i don't remember my dreams, but they are only inches away, i can feel them.
this humidity is bugging me.

what's the difference between a scattered thunderstorm and an isolated thunderstorm?

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