40 ans verseau femme
De Montreal, Quebec, Canada
|Dernière Visite:||Tue 30 Nov, 1999 @ 12:00am|
|Idiocy :::||Designer, graphic artist, prolific slash fiction and erotica writer. Frequently finds herself scribbling under the pen name Lucia de'Medici. Writing makes me happy. |
|En Vector :::||Maintains that she will someday become a great graphic artist and move far away to a place with a tepid climate and lots of palm trees.|
|En Musica :::||Electro & Electroclash, with brief escapades into brit pop and industrial.|
|Bookish :::||Neil Gaiman, J.K. Rowling, Stephen King, Anne Rice, Richard Mehtzger, Oberon Zell, Z. Budapest, Pat Monaghan, Scott Cunningham, X-Men comicverse/evoverse/whatever. All of that's just fine by me. After five years of playing puppetmaster, eventually you learn that all things fandom-related boil down to sex and death. I like 'em both.|
|Squeee :::||slash fic, splatterpunk, memento mori (vanitas), renaissance art, mies van de rohe & le corbusier, japanese prints, the human skeleton, charcoal drawing, goddess statuary, hindu mythology, fresh strawberries, my 5th gen ipod, small and yappy shih tzus, my ball and chain (a.k.a. the infamous neuropoop)|
|Squick :::||gore, biting into woolen scarfs, chanslash, onions, apples that are texturally inept for my pallet, sarcasm lacking wit, people who claim to not pretentious though they use the term "pretensh"|
|Words :::||"Every golden apple corps has a golden worm."|
Je Suis Dans Ces Images [ Tous 2
|Restaurant:||Américain, Barbecue, Cajun / Méridional, Du Sud-Ouest, Français, Fruits De Mer, Grec, Indien, Italien, Japonais / Sushi, Les Caraïbes / Cubain, Méditerranéen, Mexicain, Somme Chinoise / Faible, Thaï, Vietnamien|
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There is beauty in darkness, such is the work of gods and men when we stand in our lofty height well above it all and look down fondly at the road less traveled, knowing that the scuffs and fine spattering of blood and sweat has been left by none other than ourselves. I met myself on one such shaded path yesterday; she told me she was proud to see how far I’d come.
We exist in flux; caught in the trappings of a personal revolution occurring on a daily basis, the legacy of one’s life is both beautiful and volatile. We’re an explosion sitting at the bottom of an alchemist’s flask waiting to happen. So while you and I are rattling around the confines of our respective cages, let’s remember then that you can never truly know anyone, not even yourself. People are non-mutable entities, if I wasn’t who I was yesterday, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. As for tomorrow? Who knows? Maybe I’ll finally snap and the end result will be cataclysmic, or maybe we’ll all have a thumping good time watching the fireworks.
Dark ones – Kali bless the dark ones, their twisted shade and malevolent lurching shuffle and scrape of fur-covered knuckles over the ground, stalking always – eyes incandescent when the light hits them just so. Beauty in darkness, always beautiful when we spiral inwards and face the deepest and most spiteful of our fears lain thick like tar over our hearts. Mmm – so thick I can almost run it over my tongue. Thick and sweet and laced in copper. I love that bitter twinge at the very end. So desperate are we, foul creatures. Such is the work of chaos - a rattle and hum as the darkness descends.
That hoary cripple, with his loping gait I slew - his dark remnants staining my skirts and bathing my fists with scarlet and - sweet Janus, did I know fear for the first time!