gra-tu-i-tous |grəˈt(y)oōitəs|
{ORIGIN mid 17th cent.: from Latin gratuitus ‘given freely,spontaneous’}
1. uncalled for; lacking good reason; unwarranted : gratuitous violence.2. given or done free of charge : gratuitous advice.
vi-o-let |ˈvī(ə)lət|{ORIGIN Middle English : from Old French violette} adjective:
1. a bluish-purple color seen at the end of the spectrum opposite red.
2. a herbaceous plant of temperate regions, typically having purple, blue,or white five-petaled flowers, one of which forms a landing pad for pollinating insects. Genus Viola, family Violaceae.
3. ME.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

excuse me sir, are you a member of the cheese club?

i can't believe it.
i really can't.
it has been 20 arduous years since i last was in this scenario.
ups and downs, as they say.
strikes and gutters they also say.
shit and more shit- i say.
[feel free to use that gem.]

so what am i bitching about now, you ask?

i'm in a small leaky boat on the seas of fuckyou.
at least i can swim.

i'm at my mother's condo, having come by earlier today to change a few lightbulbs, and drop off a plethora of plants.


because the economy is in the sewer, and i am an artist without direction or a clear personal path, i'm a woman eeking out a unique existence, lost adrift the turd sea, grabbing at invisible straws, and in leu of all that bullshit, my lease is up in less than 2 weeks, and i have no money.
goose egg.

and i have to move in with the parental unit.
rent here is free, and i can "get my shit together" as the phrase goes.

ideally, i would have a great-paying satisfying job, and be moving into the cottage or loft of my dreams, but that isn't ready to materialize yet.

so, in the meantime, i joined the cheese club:
just hold this pic up to a mirror.
you may see inside your own soul.
or not.

as a bona fide member of the cheese club, i invite you to eat out of the pan.

i will be back to bitch about this more in the near future. i need to put a lid on the pan and shove the entire thing in the fridge. 

Sunday, April 10, 2011

saturday surprise- or- the nail polish chronicles

after a slew of crappy days, i decided to open it up to the option of having a not as shitty as other days day.
i had planned to sulk in bed and then clean my apartment- lazily. that did not go as planned.
here is what happened instead:

secor called. i invited him over for a coffee and a chat and opened the windows up a bit.
10 minutes later, he arrived on his bike. [i want a bike.]
we had coffee and i got out my nail polish with plans to add some glitter to my dull existence, hoping to cheer my sad self up. glitter can be magic. due to neglect, my box of nail polish was dusty and crusty. i had to empty it and wash the plastic container out.
i lined up all my bottles, and was instantly pepped up a bit.
bright colors are so chipper, no?

63 bottles of enamel on the mantle. resplendent spectrum, don't you agree?

or if you prefer a close up:

oooh! pretty!

but how could i forget you, oh sparkly ones?!?

 i couldn't let my friend leave before he received a coat of chipper, could i? not on your life, bub!

secor- in dolly pardon red.

grisel showed up as his nails were drying, and we decided to go for a hike up at east rock. but since there was a bike race contaminating the rock, the entire park was closed off. we decided to grab a coffee and head to sleeping giant instead.

grisel checks out the rock face, where a 12 year old boy fell to his death over 100 years ago- youch! the quarry was closed down shortly after the tragedy and 50 years later, the area was donated to the state as a park.

we took a few short cuts up the south side
the paths through the rhododendrons are soo cool
it was steeper than it looked. i was panting.

when you get to the end of the hiking path, there is a stone tower, 4 stories high, with a picnic area on the bottom floor, and a couple fireplaces built in, and ramps to the top with a look-out spot.

it was @ 6pm, and the light was descending

cool iron spiderweb overlapping the cut-out

although it was hazy/polluted, we saw the "water" past the tall buildings of downtown/ the new haven harbor

i was pooped after our 4 mile hike up and down a sleeping giant, so i took a nice hot bubble bath and built a lovely fire afterwards. I drank 2 red stripes and watched helen mirin on snl. all good stuff.

and yes, i had time to paint my nails as well. 

do you like?

Friday, April 8, 2011

owch! my third eye hurts...

believe it or not, but my third eye is in pain.
this is the third time that i have experienced this exact phenomena.
between my brows lies a dull aching feeling, and a redness which accompanies it.
i'm practically a guru, no?

om shanti motherfuckers.

but my sacreligiosity aside, i do like to entertain the ideas of reincarnation and the soul. i do not pretend to know...  really KNOW- inherently that there is either reincarnation or a soul which reincarnates. 
i have IDEAS though.

my thoughts about the concept of soul and reincarnation therein:

firstly, we are all born. can we agree about that point?

okay, having said that, i think that when we human mammals exit the womb, and breathe our first inhalation of air, an aspect of spirit merges within us- in our physical and metaphysical bodies.
some call it our soul.
and since energy cannot be either created or destroyed, according to the laws of earthly physics, if there is an aspect of energy which is possessing us, it must come from somewhere, no?
alrighty, my idea is that there is a teensy tiny original-to-and-for-us factor in our unique spiritus, and the remaining energy which inhabits our non-physical selves are recycled remnants from the great beyond. i think that the extraneous recycled bits are where our unexplained inclinations towards random people and places, fears and aversions originate from. past lives.
did we live them? maybe. maybe not.
i couldn't care less about that.
i do care about the kindred connections i experience, and the odd flashback-style experiences i feel toward strangers and loved ones. been there. done that. but when?

do we tap into the primordial soul-soup?

do we really die?

does any of this matter- especially if you are a wonderfully loving honest person, or a fucking violent chump?

to sum this nonsense up, i have been especially psychic lately, especially cranky lately, extremely depressed lately. do those factors have anything to do with my sorely wide-opened third eye?

i may never know.

another day, another hangover

i am not there to be an example of perfection.
i do my best.
and sometimes i do my eh.
being a tad numb lately, i have not made the healthiest decisions about my intake of food and drink.
i'm depressed and flat out broke. right now, my brain is attempting to make a run from my skull.

welcome to the downfall of capitalistic free-market economy, and the lush life of an artist.
i am the fringes, baby.
get a good look: 

good fucking morning bitches

i have been, off and on, teetering on the edge of mere existence for a couple years, on a slight to deeply plummeting decline. i openly struggle with depression- and have high hopes for mania. (oh- mania, where has thou gone?)
i have no real job to brag about... yet i work 3.5 hours a week doing something i love.
3.5 as in three point five. not enough to live off of. and yes, i apply for gigs that may actually pay me and maybe even suit me. no luck.
i keep telling myself that most of them are entry-level anyway, and i'm up against everyone from a 19 year old fetus to a post-grad for those shitty jobs! jesus fucking christ- what is going on here?

actually, i get pensive and almost hopeful at times, but that illusion blows away with the wind.
i could change paths and live my dreams- hahahaahaa- heck,  i even take tiny stabs at it, but mostly, i end up piss-drunk playing scrabble or watching dumb movies. wash away my troubles. yeah, right.
so i say:
fuck bravely entering the unknown!
i am lazily loitering alongside the unknown- often with a strong fermented beverage in one hand and a flailing fist in the other. i feel justified in being double-pissed. i seek no validation. i am waay past that crap.
super-fun breakdown about my current shit-uation:
~ my apmt lease is up at the end of this month. where am i going? not so sure.
~ my cat zz is ill. and old. and frail. it breaks my heart.
~ i'm waiting for serious test results @ my health. (see: the uninsured. a future rant.)
~ student loan fucks want to sue me. good luck with that.
~ my damned teeth hurt. for 5 years. nice.
~ try to remain positive even though it looks bleak. why?

we all have moments of ups and downs- ebb and flow. the natural fluctuations which bring challenges and growth. i accept this as common knowledge, although i wish it weren't true. my fluctuations are exaggerated when viewed next to the average f'n joe. i am beyond average.
and i'm loosing more faith as time passes.

the sense of hopelessness weighs heavier if you have no lifeboat.

at least i am a good swimmer.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

you have got to be kidding me...

okay, i understand it takes all types of people to make up human-kind... but is it really necessary to have 8 or 14 fucking kids?
have we learned nothing?

i'm pissed!

let me start at the beginning shall i?

i like the little tab at the top of the page that says "next blog>>" because it brings you to a random blog written by someone else. my guess- without researching this- is that it takes a common theme you already researched or wrote about and runs with it. so, if i am blogging now about how i wish people would stop breeding like rabbits, and i hit "next blog>>", the likeliness of being sent to some sister-wives blog page, saturated with bullshit about their damn giant family- is high. there are thousands of them!

where are the philosophical blogs in random circulation?
where are the comedic blogs, or the literary blogs? why don't they pop up?
occasionally, i am sent to a cool art blog, but rarely.
sometimes i land on a travel blog, or even a foreign-language blog about mountaineering.
but every time i am on a jag of "next blog>>" i inadvertently land at the family pages.
blog after random blog like this: candace loves being a mommy, now her seemingly useless life has purpose- look at thad's picture... aww, how cute! 
and people follow this drivel! 


i get it: people have kids.

okay, you want to have sex, then see a little version of you run amok.
even live your dreams vicariously through them.
i don't.
but what's wrong with birthing one, or two?
for the love of the planet, which is obviously not a concern for most breeders, why have more kids than you can count on their left hand?

update: women have 2 breasts, not 8 teats or an udder. thank you very much

if one more idiot tells me that god blessed the couples who have teams of kids, i will scream bloody murder!
talk about taking the name of god in vain...

i say- hey asshole, have 4 more babies, and screw your tax break. you get taxed higher. a thanks for screwing the planet tax, or a goodbye to natural resources tax.
do i get a break for conscientious lack of breeding?
do i get a party where people buy me cute shit and i make them oh and ah for hours while i open it up in front of them and we all eat stupid mini-sandwiches?
i get stares and sideways glances from moms who assume i envy them. ha!
i get told that a woman isn't a fully a real woman if she's not a mother.
i get told i am jaded. all this crap from one woman to another. nice.
who the fuck do these jerks think they are- making ignorant assumptions like that?
so much for sisterhood.
i wonder if men pull that shit on one another.
a guy can fuck his best friends wife, and the two remain friends after the divorce, but women will scratch another woman's eyeballs out for oogling her looser boyfriend.
fucking ridiculous. oops, i'm rambling.

the world is filled with good and bad people, and if it is exponentially overpopulated, doesn't that mean there will be more and more assholes roaming around as time goes by? why add to the chances of birthing the next criminal or narcissist by having 13 kids?
not all these parents can be farmers... who else needs that many kids?
q: how does the uterus not fall out after delivering 10 kids?
and who wants to screw after pushing a dozen babies through their vagina?
isn't that like throwing a hot dog down a hallway?
do kegels help with that?

i believe that choosing to NOT be a parent is an admirable choice. 
and not every parent should be one. 
most suck at least a little bit. some suck alot, and then those who are awful at parenting often have lots of kids. sick irony.
let's think about the incarcerated, shall we?
what would you estimate the percentage of violent inmates is who came from a good home? 
80%? 2%? 
maybe their folks should have used a rubber, no? 
how about the child molester, would his life be just as sentimental to you if you knew when he was a baby- what he'd turn out to be? 
i say let's just drop the plucking heart-string act for a minute and look around here.
having a kid is a crap shoot. 
you could get a good one, healthy, who turns out smarter than you are, who listens well and is respectful. you could also get a meanie, a real problem starter. or worse... one never knows, and counting fingers and toes tells very little.

be realistic.

again, no- god didn't bless these human rabbits with little angels.
mammals reproduce. amphibians reproduce. plants reproduce.
and while the making and growing process of offspring may be interesting and such, it's not a fucking miracle!!!
egg and sperm met. cells divided and grew. a fetus attached to the uterine wall. it grew into a miniature human.
not a miracle.
but what is a miracle is the fact that the fathers willingly watch their partner's bodies ripped apart as the baby is being born, and then they go back for more.
double gross.

some years ago, a woman i used to work with brought in pics that her husband [now ex-husband, thank you] took as she delivered her son. she wanted to show them to a pregnant co-worker. i was curious, since i never saw a human birth, only a calf being born- on tv.
let me tell you, the pics were icky. gave me the willies, and i love science. cadaver lab fascinated me.
but why would you want to proudly show that intimate view to your co-workers?
hey y'all, want to look at my hairy bloody ripped up love-slice?
what a mess.

i'm all for nature. don't get me wrong. reproduction is natural.
women have sex and want to get knocked up. fine. i get it.
i even kept my options open about entering motherhood off and on throughout my life, but always settle on no thanks.
still do.

i wish all mothers would use a midwife and all would breast feed their babies too.

we need good parents out there. there are too many duds.

so, if you are reading this, which you aren't- since nobody does, remain calm, and don't get all defensive if you are a parent- or want to be.

i don't hate you all. 
i do dislike and lack respect for the ignorant droves of mass producers of human life. no social or ecological consciences to be found in them. only blank stares and excuses.

i just urge people to stop the following:
1) breeding as opposed to parenting. have one or two max per couple
see: Zero Population Growth
2) calling babies miracles. grow up. you make me ill.
3) insisting that we all want to be parents, or someday we will. it's condescending and incorrect.
4) assuming we all don't like children. come on, it's not cut and dry like that. so stop assuming.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

what the heck was my cat thinking?

this is not the first time i caught her. it is the second.
and i'm pretty sure that's not it for her.
fletcher, my tabby, is at it again.
what is she up to, you ask?
macking out in the penalty box.
rustle rustle scratch scratch silence.
no tearing off like a bat out of hell.
no scrapping the side walls.
no me-howling.

then- there she was again, chin resting on the plastic edge, squeezy-eyed and care-free.


like a lazy pimp on a sunday afternoon.
like a fictitious woman in a tampon commercial.
like.. the mack

okay, maybe not that cool, but who can really say?

either way, she was definitely macking in the crapper, cat-style.
i am serious.
you wish my cat was your cat, really you do.
she's the sweetest, oddest, sneak-attackiest cat ever. EVER.
and she chills in the cat box.

what the heck was my cat thinking?

let me know in the comment area.