little by little, you will turn into stars

Little by little, you will turn into stars.
Even then, my dear, you will only be a crawling infant, still skinning your knees. Little by little, you will turn into a whole, sweet, amerous universe, in heat on a wild spring night and become so free in a wonderful, secrete and pure love that flows from a concious, one pointed infinite need for light.

You don’t have to act crazy. We all know your good at that. Now retire, my dear, for all that hard work you do of bringing pain to your sweet eyes and heart.

We should make all spiritual talk simple today. It is trying to sell you something you don’t want to buy. That is what your suffering is. Whereas, my child, I’m afraid you still think you have a thousand serious wounds.

“I Heard God Laughing Renderings of Hafiz” by Daniel Ladinsky

who sent this to me?

the thought of sexy children should not exist as such!

I live in a mid-sized Florida town with the usual array of stuff,
things and locales. On the main drag is a Hooters, which is a good
enough place as an eatery goes. The waitress gimmick is laughable, at
best…tolerable, when in pursuit of wings, boiled shrimp and beer.

sign on the verge advertising the Little Miss Hooters contest is,
however, beyond the pale. We called this evening, asked for details.
The contest is for girls 5 and under, and will require they be dressed
in little orange spandex shorts, and a tied up Hooters t-shirt.

Alrighty – don’t know about you folk, but I’m pretty damned disturbed.

More at‘s blog

I am so very very bad.

I’m playing strip chequers on-line while modding kidschat. To top it
off, my music is SO not appropiate for children that it’s painful to
think about.

My quote “any tattoos I should picture?”

At least I’m winning.

it’s not going to stop

I love shifts in perception, in attitude. Seeing things blossom. Though the
implication of a hard friendship was always there, it was never put into true

Line lives up on the shelf and polish them to a shine. Pick them and eat
them. The ones with you are to look like pomegranates turned inside out.

The way you savoured the words, the image. I made you a smile that I devoured.

Tonight was the a wrung out Game of 1000 White Cards. The idea was
to collect people and have them drink sangria, but it was not to be. I
think we had fun, but it was an edge of exhaustion push of energy. I’m
glad of work tomorrow. Enough time with the mindless will bring back my
taste for words. I am sad to miss SinCity tomorrow, but a prom will
hopefully be well worth it. I found a plum dress custom fit to someone
I could body double. The tight translucent sleeves will make dancing
difficult, but I swear, if need be I shall tear them off for freedom of
movement. It’s too fun to mess with perception for otherwise. Clothing
as costume – a favorite game.

in toronto i tended to wear skirts and peasant shirts. hippie
clothing, light carefree and not deadly in the unaccustomed heat.
nothing that wasn’t befitting a flowerchild. except once. i was meeting
with joseph at night and i had dressed in black. tight sleeveless black
shirt, black pants. clothes to break into buildings with. an
assassination outfit. i carried knives then – he hadn’t taught me
enough of love otherwise. it was too soon. i scared him. i was so
different to see. i stood, i moved in other ways. confident for the
first time.
“you look too dangerous – i can’t see you”

to be or not to be, this is the moment of flattery

porphyre’s LJ stalker is mistersleepless!
mistersleepless is stalking you because they saw your picture and fell in love.. They are also eating your food when you aren’t looking!

LiveJournal Username:

LJ Stalker Finder

MisterSleepless is Warren Ellis, so now I must wonder how it is this meme decides…

dancing and typing don’t mix like tequila and certain boys

I returned home from Sophies
to find a lovely message from Jaques. “Rather foolish to suppose you
would be home on a friday evening, but hey it was worth a try”. I’ll
call him tomorrow and set up a time to watch terrible movies. I
discovered, (was it only yesterday?), that his telly is large enough to
live in. I was somewhat surprised. This incongrous instrument in the
middle of an artists space.  The stylized painting of the Joker in
purple hat and tails was only appropriate. Of course, I was slightly
surprised to even be invited home. For the long time we’ve known
eachother I’ve never visited.  I’m coming to see that it’s an
omission, a change in relations when you’ve been to a persons home.
Seen where they sleep, see how it is they decorate thier walls. I cannot even begin to imagine the look on Bills face if I spend the night over at Jaques watching movies. I laugh to myself as I wonder what this will portend.

It’s been a lovely week of very long days. A few hours before bed alone
at my computer seems somehow wrong. I’ve been averaging a bedtime of
five eh em.  I get home or boot people out into a dark sky and
wander my fingers over my keyboard futily trying to convey the energy
of my day.  Like an orchestra sounding passion, yet leaving me
without the knowledge to properly apply pen and paper to decribe the

Ellen, by the
way is wonderful. If she doesn’t protest, I suggest applying her to all
sort of situations. *laughter* Dragging witful people along to things
in spite of thier inclusiveness is fun. She professes to shyness, but
is very good at hiding it. She also says she’s not a very good dancer
and I think I will disagree. We met for the second time yesterday. I
was wearing the geekery goth shirt I was recently given and so she’s
offered to lend me The Crow comics, which I have never read. (Marc
tells me the panel is a clip from the comic – so wow – two people
called it as I remained in bashful ignorance). I think
this too will become an excuse to meet again.  We talked of films
and technologies and the underground spreading culture that is
Livejournal. We met through this and we met again yesterday due to a
post as well. She gave me some Vonnegut and I bought her coffee at
Joe’s. Right now, of course, we’re being inscestuous and writing of
eachother in our journals. All the more joy this way. Tying to ropes of
words tighter to bind the world in our interweb.

Later, after I’d sent Robin on his way and inflicted myself on Marc
briefly, Ian and I sat up watching New Rose Hotel. It is so very close
to being a fantastic film. Our theory is that the budget was spent on
coercing acttresses to be naked and naughty with Willem Defoe. It’s a
horrid thing to say, but honestly – it would have been better spent on
lighting. There is no reason under any ghod of your choosing that
Willem Defoe needs to be seen showing so much flesh.