Interests:Eros & Psyche. Expertise:Gerontological and Palliative Care Nursing; Renaissance and Baroque Art History; Post-Modernist Critical Theory; Classical and Modern Rhetoric; Gastronomy. Occupation:B.A., M.N., Muse. Industry:Medical
There are times, however, and this is one of them, when even being right feels wrong. What do you say, for instance, about a generation that has been taught that rain is poison and sex is death? If making love might be fatal and if a cool spring breeze on any summer afternoon can turn a crystal blue lake into a puddle of black poison right in front of your eyes, there is not much left except TV and relentless masturbation. It's a strange world. Some people get rich and others eat shit and die. Who knows? If there is in fact, a heaven and a hell, all we know for sure is that hell will be a viciously overcrowded version of Phoenix -- a clean well lighted place full of sunshine and bromides and fast cars where almost everybody seems vaguely happy, except those who know in their hearts what is missing... And being driven slowly and quietly into the kind of terminal craziness that comes with finally understanding that the one thing you want is not there. Missing. Back-ordered. No tengo. Vaya con dios. Grow up! Small is better. Take what you can get...
葛兰
愛情不過是一種普通的玩意兒, 一點也不稀奇. 男人不過是一件消遣的東西, 有什麼了不起?
什麼叫情? 什麼叫意? 還不是大家自己騙自己! 什麼叫癡? 什麼叫迷? 簡直是男的女的在做戲!
是男人我都喜歡, 不管窮富和高低. 是男人我都拋棄, 不怕你再有魔力.
你要是愛上了我, 你就自己找晦氣! 我要是愛上了你, 你就死在我手裡!
You Look Like A Perfect Fit For A Girl In Need Of A Tourniquet
But can you save me from the ranks of the freaks who suspect they could never love anyone?
You owe it to yourself. Set the world on fire -- i-D Magazine, September 2008
The month so far: Macau, Jiang Men, Hong Kong.
Volcano
Damien Rice
The Second Year
I remember how realization broke on me like some precious antique vase; two years ago, today. And during those days, weeks, months which followed, memories resurfaced over and over, kept trying to make sense of it all.
That pain itself was so exquisite, acute, spontaneous, episodic. Came, crashed in pangs.
I recall seeing the vacuum appearing so suddenly in my life right after; thinking how nothing was enough, nothing would ever be enough to fill it. Couldn't bring myself even to attempt to fill it.
Still can't.
Guilt had itself wrapped around our necks, hung us from thick grey air, over the bottomless void of our own creation.
But two years is a long time, and life moves ahead, waits for nobody.
I look at my son now (7), who's right here clinging to my leg under our dining table. Though he mightn't be my biological son, claims me for his mother; rests his head over my thigh, watches me, wide-eyed. I pick him up, sit him on my knee.
"Mama?" "Hmm?" "I love you." "How much?" "More than pizza!" "Is that all?" "More than soccer!" "Oh?" "More than winning things!"
If there's any kind of magic in this world, it must be in the attempt of understanding someone, sharing something. I know, it's almost impossible to succeed, but... who cares, really? The answer must be in the attempt. -- Celine, Before Sunrise
I wouldn't be surprised if it rained shitbricks on me tomorrow, but I'll pull through with no one but myself to rely on, and that's okay.
The Weak End
My grandfather had died, and my mother was trying to explain it to me...
"Grandpa isn't coming back?" "No," she said. "Not ever again..."
And I remember saying, "hold everything right fucking there. You went to all the trouble of conceiving me, and giving birth to me, and raising me and clothing me and all... and you make me cry and things hurt so much and disappointments crush my heart every day and I can't do half the things I want to and sometimes I just want to scream -- and what I've got to look forward to is my body breaking and something flipping off the switch in my head -- I go through all this, and then there's death? What is the motherfucking deal here?"
I wasn't having this. This was not fair. -- Warren Ellis
This past week has been nuts. One thing after another snowballed into a shitstorm from hell.
Someone out there is raising a glass to me, smiling, "You've earned it."
I'm not arguing. I've made loads of bad decisions, and Karma was never my friend: bound to have caught up with me by now, right?
Funny, how everything's placed exactly a month away from the anniversary of my baby's passing. Coincidence?
Lifetime
I look at my son now (7), who's right here clinging to my leg under our dining table. Though he mightn't be my biological son, claims me for his mother; rests his head over my thigh, watches me, wide-eyed. I pick him up, sit him on my knee.
My grandfather had died, and my mother was trying to explain it to me... 
