|By Petermarc on Friday, September 28, 2001 - 07:26 pm: Edit|
|By Verawench on Friday, September 28, 2001 - 01:30 pm: Edit|
Interesting turn of phrase, since it's going actually on my leg. Sprawled over my right thigh to be exact. I'll take pictures :P
|By Blygdon on Friday, September 28, 2001 - 01:24 pm: Edit|
Chicago? Who mentioned Chicago and midwest interest assement? Some of us are suffering blonditis and can't find the post. Others are too baked to locate.
Vera, are you really going for that tattoo or pulling our legs. It's really kind of cool.
|By Emmy on Tuesday, September 25, 2001 - 04:20 pm: Edit|
and thanks, Wolfy. i mean it =)
|By Emmy on Tuesday, September 25, 2001 - 04:19 pm: Edit|
yeah, Rick. just reread it last week. it was one of only a few books i brought with me from Oakland =) will probably read it again this week.
|By Royale on Tuesday, September 25, 2001 - 02:06 pm: Edit|
have you read Rilke's "Letters To a Young Poet"? You may find it inspirational at this point in your life.
|By Verawench on Monday, September 24, 2001 - 12:41 pm: Edit|
Amen to that, Wolfie! Let us remember that our absinthe-drinking forefathers considered Ennui to be the worst ailment possible.
|By Wolfgang on Monday, September 24, 2001 - 09:38 am: Edit|
There is times when drunken masochism is less painfull than sad and boring reality... Good luck Emmy.
|By Verawench on Monday, September 24, 2001 - 09:30 am: Edit|
Too much information, Emmy!
Ah, but good for you. The notorious "shakes" only seized me once, after a night of everclear jello shots and tequila shots and then some more everclear jello shots. I won't even mention the other bodily reactions to such drunken masochism.
|By Emmy on Monday, September 24, 2001 - 09:15 am: Edit|
after three straight days of dunkeness that i faintly remember most of, i'm taking a vacation from alcoholic imbibing. woke up yesterday morning with a strong case of the shakes which seemed to have settled down today though i'm still a bit queasy. i think i've gotten the binging out of the way. it's been so long since i've been drinking on my own (aka w/o Mel) that i've forgotten how i used to control myself heh. this weekend was a bit of a lesson.
got laid last night, and that was certainly a load off ;) in more ways than one.
|By Emmy on Friday, September 21, 2001 - 05:56 pm: Edit|
well, i'm off to more drunken tomfoolery... if anyone in the area cares to join me, i'll be at either the Blue Danube, the Other Place, or the Bitter End. all on Clement St from 4th to 6th Ave.
oh, and i made another mistake... oh for the days of a working edit function... it's "Sieze the Time!" not "...Day"
|By Bob_Chong on Friday, September 21, 2001 - 03:52 pm: Edit|
Bet you wish you had the Porky Pig trinket now--could sell it on eBay.
"Vintage WB, slightly stabbed..."
|By Emmy on Friday, September 21, 2001 - 02:39 pm: Edit|
oh woops! forgot i changed the picture heh. that's my dad in the heydays of the yellow power movement! get it? off the pigs! the banner behind him reads "sieze the day!"
|By Emmy on Friday, September 21, 2001 - 02:37 pm: Edit|
hehe that's not me =P that's Toshiro Mifune in Kurosawa's "Sanjuro"
|By Tavarua on Friday, September 21, 2001 - 01:30 pm: Edit|
Vera, get your mind out of the gutter.
Emmy, I am referring to the knife you are holding in your profile.
|By Verawench on Friday, September 21, 2001 - 01:21 pm: Edit|
*cough* Sigmund Freud *cough*
|By Emmy on Friday, September 21, 2001 - 01:09 pm: Edit|
hrm... you sure you're thinking of the same Emmy? heh. i've just got a bunch of junkers in my knife collection. nothing of any value or quality... not even my kitchen knives now heh, mel's got those.
|By Tavarua on Friday, September 21, 2001 - 12:21 pm: Edit|
At least you still have that exquisite, Italian swing guard stiletto. I am really not trying to make light of the tough time that you are going through, but that is a beautiful blade. Keep your head up, things can only get better.
|By _Blackjack on Friday, September 21, 2001 - 12:03 pm: Edit|
I was actually having one of the best months I'd had in several years; I was almost becoming optimistic.
Shoulda known better.
On the other hand, it makes any day-to-day problems which don't involve mass murder and collapsing buildings seem pretty managible.
|By Emmy on Friday, September 21, 2001 - 11:20 am: Edit|
the world trade center incident... separation from my wife... having to sleep on my little brother's floor... looking for a new job...
what a fucking week and a half...
needless to say, i have been donating more than my fair share to the liquor industry... spent last weekend completely blitzed, passed out saturday with a beer in my hand after all you can drink sake night at sushi boom... got fucked up again last night...
one good thing has happened to me though. i'm writing again. like a fucking madman. i got the urge to buy some steno pads on wednesday. went to a cafe. read a book. and the juices began to flow... wrote 12 poems. woke up yesterday morning, wrote 5 poems and went back to sleep. my muse of misery is back! fucking rock on!
i may be joining you in the radical hair change department soon, K ;)
|By Verawench on Friday, September 21, 2001 - 10:43 am: Edit|
Brave Kallisti! Can I have a lock? Bring a handful to Vegas, won't you? And yes, we do want pics.
Anne Thrax... hehe... tops Anne Guish.
I think I'm gonna spend my paycheck on a new tattoo...
What do you guys think?:
|By _Blackjack on Friday, September 21, 2001 - 09:36 am: Edit|
OK, so long as it's still big and red...
Your hair I mean.
I want pictures.
|By Don_Walsh on Friday, September 21, 2001 - 08:00 am: Edit|
What set you off about ANTHRAX?
I have always wanted to name a new Domme (Mistress) Anne Thrax, as a spoof of Ilsa Strix in L.A.
|By Geoffk on Friday, September 21, 2001 - 07:43 am: Edit|
There is a famous quote from Dean Martin. He said that he felt sorry for non-drinkers, because as soon as they wake up, they feel as good as they are ever going to feel all day.
Definitely NOT true the morning after I've been drinking...
-- Geoff K.
|By Uncle on Friday, September 21, 2001 - 06:41 am: Edit|
|By Billynorm on Friday, September 21, 2001 - 12:12 am: Edit|
"One must be for ever drunken: that is the sole question of importance. If you would not feel the horrible burden of Time that bruises your shoulders and bends you to the earth, you must be drunken without cease. But how? With wine, with poetry, with virtue, with what you please. But be drunken. And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace, on the green grass by a moat, or in the dull loneliness of your chamber, you should waken up, your intoxication already lessened or gone, ask of the wind, of the wave, of the star, of the bird, of the timepiece; ask of all that flees, all that sighs, all that revolves, all that sings, all that speaks, ask of these the hour; and wind and wave and star and bird and timepiece will answer you: "It is the hour to be drunken! Lest you be the martyred slaves of Time, intoxicate yourselves, be drunken without cease! With wine, with poetry, with virtue, or with what you will."
|By Bob_Chong on Thursday, September 20, 2001 - 11:38 pm: Edit|
How about donating your hair to Locks of Love?
|By Admin on Thursday, September 20, 2001 - 11:30 pm: Edit|
Seriously, what a time to quit drinking and smoking (which I did 2 months ago) ...
After the massive layoffs tuesday me and my now ex-coworkers hit our favorite bar. I bought a pack of cloves and hit the whiskey. And hit the whiskey again. Heh. During the course of the evening I could be found violently thrashing about that day's SF Chronicle that displayed a very handy diagram and chart of the horrors and realities of ANTHRAX. This, for some reason, had me enraged.
3 AM in the morning found me in my friends kitchen with a pair of clippers purchased for $19.98 from Walgreens. So, amidst the sauteeing of late nite tofu, I shaved off half my hair. Wooo! Don't feel sorry for me, I wanted to do it when I was sober, but knew I had to be drunk to find the courage. 20 years (nearly) of aggressive growth ... are now two giant pigtails tacked to my wall. Still have the massive hair on top, I have plenty to spare to be sure.
I think I'll go out and start a zine. With over-xeroxed pictures of reagan, er, bush with badly collaged mushroom clouds exploding behind his head. That's how I feel, like I was 15 again.
cuz I feel fierce.
|By Uncle on Thursday, September 20, 2001 - 10:07 pm: Edit|
I'll pour you a strong one sister!
|By Verawench on Thursday, September 20, 2001 - 09:24 pm: Edit|
I wonder when all this will come to a point when we are no longer in transition -when we will be able to say "this is what Nine Eleven did to me/us, this is how I will be from now on, this is where life resumes". And if so, what end, what conclusion, what outcome if no oblivion can come?
All this crushing grief is achingly crystal clear. I hate this sobriety - this grit in my mouth - this film of filth and gray and flame. This twisted shrapnel in my mouth that wrings tears down my throat.
Oh to be drunk again.
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