Saturday, September 30, 2006

gone gone gone ... not returning

originally uploaded by dvs

this blog is now defunct.
the veiled hostility ... the fear philosophy?
not for me.

there are a very few of you with i wish to remain connected.
you already know who you are, assuming you've checked your e-mail.

to this rest: sianara.

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Thursday, September 28, 2006

in case you wonder

i'm not deleting this blog. or changing the url. i was awfully tempted to. but i changed my mind. that said, i don't feel a part of the network like i once did. i'm starting to feel judged for what i write and i find myself wondering if i should write this or that for fear of how some may react. this blog is supposed to be a place for me. to write what i need to. its therapeutic. but, there are some pretty conservative minds out there.

and i'm not so sure i feel safe or comfortable any more expressing myself here. and the things i need to vent are uglier than any of you likely care to know. we only ever want to hear the happy and glib stuff of life. few of us want to witness the suffering. and the dreadful decisions with which some struggle. its never black and white. but most of you who have not walked down those roads seem to think it is.

so, for what its worth i'm here. that raving and restless hyberbolic lunatic of a bitch is here.

oh, and one more thing. i've thought about it. a lot. and, now that i've seen the writing on the wall about this place, i don't think i personally had much to do with ardlair's sudden departure. i think its all that judgement i mentioned above. bullies!

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Saturday, September 23, 2006

the human rights of our enemies

i did have an unwieldy looking
cut and paste post,
but ... i knew
i could do better than that.
and so, here 'tis.

artist is andrew ross, originally uploaded by pantufla

in 2004, on the UN international day for the victims of torture, dubya stated that "America stands against and will not tolerate torture." he further stated that "The United States also remains steadfastly committed to upholding the Geneva Conventions, which have been the bedrock of protection in armed conflict for more than 50 years."

ok. that's hilarious. a real load of steaming brown poop, considering what's in the CIA's bag of interrogation tricks. torture as an interrogation technique? yes, you will find the cold cell and water boarding among these so called acceptable techniques. interesting - since such interrogation techniques violate the geneva convention of which the president spoke so passionately in the above quotes.

originally uploaded by pantufla

so, in the wake of the absolute horror unveiled in abu ghraib and given dubya's attempts to undermine the geneva convention and challenge the habeas corpus principal, i - josephine public - face some serious realities. at the very least, a betrayal of truth - for, such abuses are beyond my imagination and comprehension, given my social, cultural and geographic setting. but, i must transcend that outrage and focus on the facts presented, on what's said and on what's not said. and most of all, on what it represents in terms of the political tide that's turning here.

originally uploaded by mike from zurich

it disturbs me. mostly because of my visionary way of looking at people and events. i see behaviours and actions as manifestations of an individual's motivations. motivations being rooted in values and human ethics. and, very telling of any society's values, is the conditions with which it's prepared to live. what do we think we can live with as a society? what does that tell us about the value we collectively attach to life? pride? power? humanity? THINK ON IT.

i don't see occurences in isolation. rather, as a culmination of circumstances, conditions, behaviours and actions. my present results from my past. my interaction can alter its course. my apathy and complacence leaves it unaltered. and so it is for world affairs. we look to dark lesions in human history with disdain and politically correct outrage. we tell ourselves we can't imagine what those german people were thinking, voting for a monster like hitler. really? i think it's quite simple, when you consider the social, political and cultural forces at work in german society at that time.

the horror of it all lies in its insidious nature. they did not vote hitler in based upon a platform of annihilating 6 million jewish people. they voted for him based on his fervor and passion to lift a weak, confused and floundering germany to a strong and proud germany. he spoke so passionately the comforting rhetoric the german public longed to hear, needed to hear. and once hooked into a belief tract, one sees what one wants to see and hears what one wants to hear. and of course, since its dawn as an institution, government has always carefully controlled the flow of information to its citizens, with a carefully crafted spin.

originally uploaded by sataniod

considering the atrocities in our modern information era that went unnoticed as they unfolded - such as bosnia, abu ghraib, etc - it does not seem hard for me to imagine that a majority of the german public remained blissfully unaware of the 'final solution.' and then, consider the social and cultural climate of the time: rigid and intolerant to any deviations - a setting in which hatred and bigotry flourish.

the horror sinks to our own level even further, doesn't it? for, don't a goodly portion of people out there believe that all the abu ghraib torture fell upon deserving victims? 'they're the enemy! they don't deserve human rights!' sound like a familiar rhetoric? sound like the sort of rhetoric that gives rise to hatred and bigotry? it does to me .... chillingly so, in fact. isn't that what underlies the american government's assertion that terrorist will not receive 'due process' under the law?

and so ... do you think america's enemies deserve human rights? think, for a moment, before you answer. recall that hitler perceived the jewish people as his enemy, and, more importantly, as an enemy of the germany nation. whether you or i or the public at large agree or disagree is really beside the point. perception governs the direction of one's action's. that's my point. which leads me to the conclusion that not much separates us, a 21st century society driven by fear, despair and rage, from that floundering and broken german society of 6 decades ago.

frightening, isn't it?

EDIT 28.9.06: comments' section edited ... i've grown up a little and removed the piquant tirade. read the new comment below. i'm learning a great deal about the american psyche here, just by virtue of your silence alone. interesting. how repressive and vengeful it seems from some angles.

if you're going to post a comment, make it related to the content of the post or i will delete. the objective here is to intelligently discuss the issue at hand - read post - not engage in some ideological shit throwing fest.

BTW: in case no one gets cynicism and mockery ... the 'cure for bigotry' image is clearly my attempt at both. its stark stupidity just struck me so much i laughed out loud when i saw it. maybe its that strange canadian sense of humor that not many of you get, i dunno.

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Friday, September 22, 2006

do you know who rachel corries is?

a 24 year old peace activist working in gaza to further the cause of the many suffering palestinans. the israelis killed her by crushing her with a bulldozer as she tried to save a palestinian familiy's home from demolition by the israeli army. FIND OUT more here and and here ... and ask yourself why a play based on emails which described her experience in gaza was cancelled in NYC on the 3rd anniversary of her death for fear of offending the israeli community!

her parents have only from the US government, an assertion that 'the report of the Israeli military investigation into Rachel's killing did not meet the standard of "thorough, credible, or transparent.' the US government has yet to conduct its own investigation into the death of its own civilian citizen at the hands of a foreign military. WHY?

find out more about her here: rachel corrie memorial site

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what they think ... excerpts from a baghdad blog

originally uploaded by hummingbird on crack
This is how it is to talk with most of the American administration's members, and most of the American Congress members. They are people who live only in their closed, limited world, who have no wish, or mental ability, to listen to the Other. They listen to the illusory, inner voice in their heads, insisting upon it, for years and years, until they are removed from their posts. And I don't know then whether their stupid, parrot-style mentality will change, or evolve into one that understands reality and responds to it. But what will be the point?
By then they would be outside of the decision-making zone….

originally uploaded by hummingbird on crack

I looked at that foolish man [dubya], and saw how stupid and conceited he is, how he [dubya] reads reality according to his mood, imagining he is playing the role of the savior hero, while we play the role of the weaklings who call to him for help. The truth is exactly the opposite; the American presence in Iraq brought upon us destruction, catastrophes, chaos and terrorism. And scheduling the withdrawal is the only thing that can make the Iraqis happy

originally uploaded by hummingbird on crack

No accounts were settled about stealing billions of dollars from the Iraqi treasury and public funds, which were supposed to be used for reconstructing Iraq.
There was no improvement for the citizen's services. Who cares about them? What are they worth?
Huh, huh, huh. (to laugh at a bitter joke, the Iraqi way)…..
The prices of fuels and food were raised, while the country sinks in high (and growing) unemployment levels, of about 50-70%...
Who cares?
No one cares about the Iraqis' souls, comfort, or food…
I do not know why the whole world turned against us, or abandoned us??
International interests?

originally uploaded by hummingbird on crack

Some gangs and militias appeared which none of the Iraqi Parties admit being responsible for. Dressed in black, attacking the Sunnies in Iraq. Meaning- a violence from the Shia'at's side in Iraq, against the Sunnies in Iraq, this time…. And a series started; of killing Sunnies, dislodging them from their houses and places of living, killing them according to their ID cards, and torturing them in a new trend called- the drill, as holes are made in the victim's body until he dies.
By God, this is a kind of literature not even saddam Hussein in his time knew of. There is also killing by cutting off heads and throwing them in the street, and the random shootings of people on the streets, or at their work locations. Death became so available and cheap, like trash, in Iraq….
read more ... a family in baghdad

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Thursday, September 21, 2006

so, this is freedom?

i wonder what john lennon would think, don't you?

As the practice of rendition has shown, mistakes are indeed made and lives are ruined. Some in the US government have tried to justify rendition and "black sites" by saying they are a necessary means of capturing and holding the "worst of the worst", and that "renditions save lives", yet there is no legal or judicial mechanism to ensure that this is the case. The methodology is to grab first, sometimes on flimsy or non-existent evidence, and to ask questions later.

Without a transparent process, based on the international standards and customary rules that bind all states, the programme of rendition and secret detention is eroding the human security and rule of law it claims to protect. For all practical purposes, the USA has created a law-free zone, in which the human rights of certain individuals have simply been erased. [emphasis mine]
USA Below the radar: Secret flights to torture and ‘disappearance’

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why they hate us - reasons 697 to 995

WAKE up!

the abu ghraib files ... 279 fotos and 19 videos

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Wednesday, September 20, 2006

WAKE up!

Come on!

Come on, although ya try to discredit
Ya still never edit
The needle, I'll thread it
Radically poetic
Standin' with the fury that they had in '66
And like E-Double I'm mad
Still knee-deep in the system's shit
Hoover, he was a body remover
I'll give ya a dose
But it'll never come close
To the rage built up inside of me
Fist in the air, in the land of hypocrisy

Movements come and movements go
Leaders speak, movements cease
When their heads are flown
'Cause all these punks
Got bullets in their heads
Departments of police, the judges, the feds
Networks at work, keepin' people calm
You know they went after King
When he spoke out on Vietnam
He turned the power to the have-nots
And then came the shot

Yeah, back in this...
Wit' poetry, my mind I flex
Flip like Wilson, vocals never lackin' dat finesse
Whadda I got to, whadda I got to do to wake ya up
To shake ya up, to break the structure up
'Cause blood still flows in the gutter
I'm like takin' photos
Mad boy kicks open the shutter
Set the groove
Then stick and move like I was Cassius
Rep the stutter step
Then bomb a left upon the fascists
Yea, the several federal men
Who pulled schemes on the dream
And put it to an end
Ya better beware
Of retribution with mind war
20/20 visions and murals with metaphors
Networks at work, keepin' people calm
Ya know they murdered X
And tried to blame it on Islam
He turned the power to the have-nots
And then came the shot

What was the price on his head?
What was the price on his head!

I think I heard a shot
I think I heard a shot
I think I heard a shot
I think I heard a shot
I think I heard a shot
I think I heard, I think I heard a shot

'He may be a real contender for this position should he
abandon his supposed obediance to white liberal doctrine
of non-violence...and embrace black nationalism'
'Through counter-intelligence it should be possible to
pinpoint potential trouble-makers...And neutralize them,
neutralize them, neutralize them'

Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!
Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

How long? Not long, cause what you reap is what you sow

(a song by rage against the machine)

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Tuesday, September 19, 2006

why do people NEED to believe in god?

originally uploaded by pixelsnap

is it because
god makes it so much easier
to explain away so-called 'evil?'

or, is it because
god makes so much easier
to pass the BUCK?

or, is it because
god makes it so much easier
to accept exclusion and bigotry?

or is it because
god makes it so much easier
to remain in the comfort zone,
inside the box?

or is it because
humans are so weak
and feeble of spirit
that they cannot rely on themselves
to determine their own purpose in life?

just wondering out loud.

Originally uploaded by Baracute.

do you think i'm being antagonistic?
secularly absolute?
do you think i'm wrong?

well, i expect an affirmative response to those three questions.

this is just my velvet acid way
of telling y'all
to get your heads outta your asses
and realise that
there is another way of seeing the world.

opposition exists. ignore it. or inform yourself.

and realise this ....

we are all groping in the spiritual darkness on this earth

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MORE of me me me!

y'all can thank lupin for this shot ... 8^D

and, i think he took this one, too
he just snaps, snaps, snaps away!
i guess that's because i'm sooooooooo purdy!

are you puking yet?
or gagging, at least ?

i sorta like this one ... its very ME
taken by -- who d'ya think?

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Monday, September 18, 2006

100 random thoughts for my 100th post!

originally uploaded by leol30

the first 25 ...
  1. what i wear ... or this ... or ... this
  2. i'm spacially challenged and directionally illiterate
  3. the war on drugs and the war on terror are both fabricated wars designed to carve public opinion and sway the balance of power
  4. cities everywhere should institute car-free sundays to incite people to activity and reduce fossil fuel emissions
  5. i sometimes wish i had a job where i could use my creativity
  6. i don't like to be touched
  7. i hate winnipeg
  8. i'm glad i no longer have a car
  9. i always wonder how much of the real human historical story we have missed out on, since history is typically written by the winners, who obliterate the losers from history's pages
  10. why do parents think biology entitles them to any respect?
  11. why do we think we need cell phones?
  12. when does the predator become the prey?
  13. our push botton society makes us impatient, indolent and imagination-less
  14. my gateway into the world of blogging was wch, whose blog i stumbled upon quite accidentally - i just happened to be watching the scrolling 'recently updated' list.
  15. it is where i found swiss ben, infini, and others, i'm sure
  16. it's where i first encountered the very kewl k9 for the first time in a sort of antagonistic way
  17. do you know what V-day is? why not?
  18. have you read or seen this book or play? do it!
  19. do you remember rotary dial telephones? television sets that only went up to channel 13? when most shows were broadcast in black and white?
  20. is george dubya bush REALLY that stupid? or is it all an act?
  21. don't you think this is an age of sanitization? do we hate reality so much that we pasteurisze it to meet our asthetic standards? did we all take the blue pill?
  22. should we see suicide as an act of cowardice? or as an act of such despair as to override the primordial survival instinct?
  23. what makes some people survivors and others victims?
  24. if you had one phone call and five minutes before you were about to die, who would you call and what would you say?
  25. scooby dooby doo, where are you?

originally uploaded by groc

the second quarter ...
  1. why do we continue to accept 'because that's the way we've always done things,' as an excuse for the status quo?
  2. i lost my passport ... and my ipod nano (4 FUCK's SAKE!!!)
  3. ok. i didn't lose them ... i just forgot where i put 'em
  4. i can't sleep when its dark outside ... (quite inconvenient really)
  5. i think its some new ptsd thing ... *rolls eyes* ...
  6. my stuffed moose where's leather and chains ... (really)
  7. this underground lair is decorated thruout with stuffed animals - monkeys in the living room ... colourful snakes in the water closet ... and a stuffed pig that oinks in the kitchen
  8. (yes, i guess i need help or somethin' ... lol)
  9. i'm addicted to starbucks' mocha frappucinos
  10. i know how to mix heroine and crack rock for shooting up
  11. why do they give junkies really teeny tiny diabetic needles for shooting up?
  12. aren't they worthy of getting the proper needles?
  13. its not like if we don't give 'em the needle, they would stop ... so we are stupid NOT to give 'em the right stuff, yes?
  14. do you know that there are likely traces of cocaine on every bill in your billfold?
  15. for some reason, $5 bills are sorta popular for snorting ... why's that, i wonder?
  16. do you know that there's really no good reason why marijuana is illegal.
  17. really ...
  18. and do you know that many famous smart people in history were morphine addicts?
  19. like the dude who founded the john hopkins school of medicine, for instance ...
  20. why the hell did any americans vote for dubya? was that the day they spiked the water supply with LSD?
  21. i would look at that video tape of steven irwin, getting spiked in the heart with a stingray spine-barb, pulling it out and then dying.
  22. hey! at least i'm honest. death humbles and amazes me.
  23. i know its macabre to watch someone die ... to want to ... but, since i have watched so many people die its almost normal ...
  24. does that sound really de-ranged?
  25. well ... so what!
originally uploaded by duncan

the 3rd quarter ...
  1. we always quip uncle sam is watchin' us. (you know? a la big brother ... that orwellian concept?), but ... don't ya think uncle osama watchin' us also?
  2. is that new islamic assassination video game objectionable because its violent?
  3. or is it objectionable because the aim of the game is to kill dubya?
  4. now, considering the kind of film SHIT that the USA infects the world with each year, don't we think this conscienable objectioning is FUCKING HYPOCRISY???
  6. are you that one in three?
  7. did you know, while i'm on my soap box (har har ... see velvet's gotta sense of humour after all), did you know that the single most important and effective action to stop the spread of INFLUENZA ... or any infectious disease ... is HANDWASHING?!
  8. and no no no ... FORGET ABOUT THAT ALCOHOL BASED LOTION SHIT they try to seel you at walgreens, or wal-mart or shoppers drug mart.
  9. that alcohol based lotion just discourages people from washing hands
  10. it doesn't kill all the nasties like good ole fashioned soap and water does
  11. oh yeah, and don't be gullable enuf to believe that so called 'antibacterial' soap is any better, either
  12. its a fucking scam
  13. did you know that this antibacterial OBSESSION is responsible for the development and rapid evolution of the SUPERBUGS?
  14. you don't need that antibiotic for a fucking cold, you lug head!
  15. you can get lorem ipsum text here
  16. all those who are cruel to animals will be reincarnated in the next life as that which they abused/mistreated.
  17. i like to think that, anyhow.
  18. why are a few radical, extremist muslim wannabes expressing such hatred over something so stupid as a quote from some old german dude that lives in that fucking roman palace?
  19. why does the media highlight all the inflammatory garbage and hide the real stuff of life in islam .. in the world?
  20. are all you americans just gonna sit back and watch your government exploit 9/11 for political and personal gain?
  21. ain't it strange ... how rumsfeld and macnamara look alike?
  22. is that sort of like ... the devil can make himself appear in various forms?
  23. did you know the dude who invented coca cola was a morphine-addicted pharmacist on the prowl for something to cure his addiction?
  24. did you also know the original recipe contained cocaine?
  25. did you know that cocaine smells like acetone ... and feels like acetone surging thru you nasal passages?

originally uploaded by claudecf
the final 25! (whew!)
  1. i found my ipod nano ... yeaaaay!
  2. see? it wasn't lost ... just mis-placed ... lol
  3. i have a bookshelf in my kitchen, right next to the fridge
  4. eccentric, perhaps?
  5. i gave into the webcam thing ... finally ... yup.
  6. i got an isight
  7. do you remember when there were NO answering machines? no atms?
  8. do you remember the days when you'd make a fone call and get a real live person on the other end ... WITHOUT the fucking voice mail hell?
  9. IKEA rulz, baby!
  10. one more reason to hate winnipeg -- no IKEA!
  11. and no rapid transit system! can you believe that?
  12. and do you know that there are people here ... FUCKING LOSERS ... who still don't recycle?
  13. who the fuck are these people? and why are they sharing the planet if they can't fucking maintain it?
  14. urgh ... its 7 degrees C here today ... for those of you who are not hip and kewl enuf to know metric ... i will just tell you that's effing cold. well, for this time of year it is.
  15. i am starting to like this empty nester thing ... it could work for me and lupin
  16. soon it will be time to hatch some sort of christmas ESCAPE plan
  17. god damn it ... I HATE CHRISTMAS ... it sucks ... it turns people into fucking retarded imbiciles!
  18. santa claus is a scum sucking freak ... why do we perpetuate such a stupid myth?
  19. here's a challenge for you christmas-obsessed consumeristic shopoholics:
  20. this year make christmas NON COMMERCIAL
  21. c'mon ... I DARE YOU ... i bet you don't have the balls to ... especially those of you with kids
  22. too bad ... coz that's what's turning this generation into a bunch of lazy, complacent, selfish and consumeristic pigs
  23. when's the last time you had a buy nothing day?
  24. do you make it a point to research (a little anyway) the companies whose products you buy?
  25. get into the culture jamming thing.
yaaaahoooooo ...!
i'm FINALLY done
these 100 random thoughts
for this 100th post.

now its time for some R&R ...

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Saturday, September 16, 2006


my 99th post ... in one spot!
here's a favourite foto-graf
to celebrate
number 99

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Friday, September 15, 2006

revisting CNN

image: ghostbones, flickr creative commons

ok. see that? it's roxanne, AND velvet - yeah both of us - eating crow. yeah, crow. ok. so ... that guy who calls himself 'le petit loup' ... that wolf i absolutely love to pieces? yeah - him. he makes me watch CNN. ugh. and, well, its starting to grow on me. its not the ultra-biased slant i recall from approximately a year ago. i must say, i'm impressed. yeah - lupin and i - we are real losers. don't watch 'normal' telly. nope. don't watch house, or er, or scrubs, or desperate housewives, or whatever dribble the networks try to sell north americans. nope. news. documentaries. more news. more documentaries. my favourite thing to do is watch all three news networks - CNN, BBC, CBC - and then compare and related coverage to culture.

yes, clearly ... we need to get out more. HA HA HA. perhaps this is what empty-nesters do?

ok. so. i'm watching CNN on mute and listening to supertramp's restrospectacle. of course, i'm smokin' ... :D. anyway ... CNN airs some alleged tape of a suicide bombing as it happens. somewhere out in the desert. eerie. really. coz, y'know what? it really reminded me of listening to the old testament bible readings in church and hearing the story of how god asked abraham to sacrifice his son isaac, as a test to see if abraham was faithful enough to obey god. i remembered thinking, as a child, how barbaric. and that's what i think now. reflecting on this suicide bombing that my eyes saw, as my ears listened to the logical song. its really true, then. we are them. they are us. call it a different name. but, those are the facts. heck, even the pope stepped into the shit pile now!

HA HA. amusing. and,
so ... me thinks ... that ...
putting the future of the world
in the hands of
religion and
politico-religious leaders
is like getting your palm
read by a vampire.

image: ghostbones, flickr creative commons

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Thursday, September 14, 2006

happy bunny wisdom

jim benton is the creator of happy bunny

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Wednesday, September 13, 2006

what i do in the land of lost souls

image: ghostbones, flickr creative commons

arthritis had crumpled and twisted her 75-year-old body like a potato chip. barely able to bear her own weight. very tenuously able to walk only the shortest of distances. right-sided heart failure manifested itself in her bloated limbs. she told me i looked like my mother, whom she remembered from french boarding school in the 1930s and 40s. i wondered what life would have turned out like if i'd had a mother like her.

she told me, not in those words, she felt life no longer held worth these days. she sobbed -- gutteral, primordial weeping. she wore an innate compulsion to apologize for herself, her feelings, her outburst. her trembling voice stammered and waivered through her sobs and tumbled out in some sort of fren-glish patois. i crouched on the floor at her feet. silent. listening. and, rubbing her arthritis knee with my hand, i felt obtuse in my powerlessness. and ... i felt her.

loneliness. abandon. desolate. fearful. self pity. and the grief that rains upon us as age looms ever larger. these things i felt in her. a child in calgary. another in san francisco. and a fit-and-healthy husband that left her, (stuck in the nursing home), to return to working the farm in saskachewan. and, oh dear blog, i heard the grief in her voice. grief for the woman she was, when a younger body allowed her to live fully and unrestricted.

image: foshie, flickr creative commons

now she grieves for herself. lost body. lost mobility. lost independence. lost place in her social network. and a mind intact. cruel. cruel fate, when age erodes the body to a grinding pain-filled halt, while leaving mentation unaffected. unaffected - to contemplate one's own slow demise? lost. she's lost. i'm lost. i have no answers, no words of wisdom, for her. i have nothing for her but love. and, blog, sometimes i fear that love does not suffice.

lost. lost souls. that is what i do - soothe the lost souls. that is what a nurse does.

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Tuesday, September 12, 2006

crumbling grace & scoured petals

image: ghostbones flickr creative commons

i awoke to the sensation of something slimy touching me. touching me. first my hand. this pulsing, hardened thing. pulsing and slimy. and then ... then other places. i felt that slimy pulsing hard thing rub against my tummy, my chest, and .... i have this image of the thing in my mouth. gagging. quietly gagging. and i carry this image of the thing in my head. and my body remembers that i saw the thing alot. alot. and my body remembers that it hurt. that it felt ugly. made me feel ugly. inside. and out. and flawed.

i remember you sitting on me once on the toilet. you would take it upon yourself to invade my privacy every chance you got and touch me. touch me. coz you couldn't keep your fucking hands off me. and your fucking dick in your pants and away from me. were you wearing pants? i don't remember seeing them. did you visit kay's room too? (before she died, she said you did things.) was that before or after your visits to my room? do you think mum bought that 'checking on the girls' excuse all along? or is that why you liked to stay up later than mum?

image: artist unknown

i know you spied on me ... lurked about ... (among other things) while i slept, or pretented to sleep. did you know? that sometimes i pretended? i know you did things. ugly things. things involving your penis. i remember having bladder infections. severely. all the time. i remember the way of our household. doting, touchy-feely, controlling father and emotionally absent mother. and, i remember what mother said to us girls: 'i don't love you or you' ... 'i'm gonna kill myself and it'll be all your fault' ... is this why? is this why she said those things? because she knew?

i remember your rules and control. of us, your girls. YOUR baubles ... existing solely for your pleasure. i remember how your forbade us from going to sleepovers. and from having any of our own. i remember the visits. flashes. bits. shards. and the way you owned me. invaded me. violated me. my body remembers. remembers the sensation of you, violating me. scouring my tender, frail flower. scouring my insides. imagine steel wool scouring an orchid. that's what it felt like. SCOUR. pieces of me flaked away with each thrust. you erased me ... eroded me. with your slimy sandpaper thing. with your sandpaper lust.

image: flickr creative commons

pieces of my heart flaked away.
to nothingness.
again. and again. and again.
my heart flaked away to nothingness.
painful. searing. desolate.
you reduced me to nothingness.

i hold no grudge. i feel no desire for revenge. but i have closed my heart to you. and i feel repulsed by your touch. and your desperate, silent pleas for mercy. i hold no grudge. i feel no desire for revenge. but i do not surrender forgiveness. and i never will. your grace grotesquely crumbles. and i feel pangs of sadness. for you. for me. for what could have been. if only. if only. and now? what do you expect? how dare you expect anything! that's what my bruised raven heart cries out, in the dark of night, when my body cannot sleep. you took a gentle dove in your hands. and you pressed. suffocated. choked the life from it. and your grace grotesquely crumbled.

and flakes ... of you ... of me ... fall, piercing, sinking. gashing at my sanity.

eviscerating my pysche.

Labels: , ,

me me me me me

1970 - me and my mum - (doesn't mum look like she's coping well?)

2006 - me, doing what i do best :^D

2005 - me and my son

2005 - me, self portrait

2006, me and the wolf (self-portrait)

Monday, September 11, 2006

11/9/01 ... a post about 9/11

i recall vividly the moment i heard about the crash. 08:10 - it was a wednesday morning - we were driving under a bridge, on the perimeter highway - lupin driving me home after a 12 hour nite shift (my 2nd nite - my 2nd 12 hr shift in as many days). i did not sleep that day. we stared at the telly screen, dumbfounded. a colleague at work worried that his mother - who lived and worked in NYC - did not survive the crash. he had no news of his mother for a few days. each of those days we worked together, the anguish swirled in him. things turned out ok for that family ... but i remember the anguish of those early days.

image: flickr creative commons

for me, the anguish of that day swells, with each passing year. with each passing year, life tumbles past us, the way leaves glide upon gentle breezes. and moments pass. moments from which death has banished those dearly departed. they say time heals all wounds, but with time, the wound gapes ever feels as though, i think, with each year that passes, the dearly departed shrink further and further from our grasp. from our mind's grasp.

when do we forget the sound of their voice? the way touching them made us feel? when do their images start to fade in our minds? and ... we ask the question ... why? for eternity -- WHY? each joyful moment, forever after, has a bittersweet taste. can joy without our dearly departed truly feel like joy? or does it feel plastic and contrived? like, sort of surreal. for us - survivors left behind - a tomorrow exists. can we live with that?

stunning photographs captured horrorific moments - remember these?

and the OUTRAGE

they caused?

and how soon ... we didn't see them anymore?

do you ever ask yourself, why? why the desperate urge to sanitize these deaths? considering the extremely graphic and disturbing images seen at the liberation of the concetration camps after WW2, why did these pictures trigger such outrage? 11/9 IS. irrevocably. do we want to remember it? or are we going to have dinner with that big white elephant on the dining room table? i, for one, don't care to dine with the big white elephant. been there, done that. i choose to live in brutal reality. death = life. the value of life lies in the eternity of death. (does that sound sort of too surreal, maybe?)

i had the wonderful privilege of seeing the north american premiere of this movie: the falling man. it traces the origin of the photo, from the photographer thru to the journalists who sought to identify the 'falling man.' but, more interesting that this, the movie speaks to the whole denial of death, despite the massive loss of life on 11/9.

its true - for the most part, we only wanted to see images of the rescue workers sifting thru the rubble. we desperately wanted to turn our heads away from the terror and ugliness and such a death. why? are not those who made a choice and resolved to plummet to their death ... are not those people victims just the same as those who did not make that choice? do we honour their memory by denying the way they died? i think not.

i ask myself. what would i do? what would you do? would you make a phone call? who would you call? what would you say? what would course thru my mind moments before such a horrific death? we cannot begin to imagine having to make such a choice. death by fire or death by sudden deceleration? no escape. only escape to death. so -- what of the falling man photo? when i look at it, i am stunned by the stark contrasts that converge there: the bright sun and a solitary, free falling figure, almost perfectly aligned with the vertical axis of the tower. and then reality - a person, falling to his death. and death, DEATH.

that feeling you have? that uncomfortable feeling?
its called humility
... because ...
death is a most humbling experience.

what do you see in the falling man photo?

what do you see, in all this?

Saturday, September 09, 2006

the eroticism of flowers

image: black iris by georgia o'keeffe (1925)

i have this passion for flowers. flowers - such finely sculpted botanical entities. so sensual, exotic, and exquisite. so colourful, flamboyant, and filled with delicate strength. but -- my passion extends only to flowers with a visible throat. flower throat: the tiny and delicate cavern that's set into its heart - where all the petals converge. therein lies the beauty of a flower - its undulating curves - its many unspoiled and mysterious gorges, so smoothly velvet. does its beauty also lie in its symbol as a creative force of nature? examine closely the work of georgia o'keeffe. burgeoning with sexual imagery.

image: jack in the pulpit IV by georgia o'keeffe (1930)

i have catheterized many women. and just as many men. what i noticed? that, just like no two flower petals look alike, so it is with women -- they differ in their blossoms. oh so slightly, only. in the most minuscule, infinitesimal way. the female flower seems, to me, a most finely carved flesh sculpture. still ... when i look at the image of jack in the pulpit, undeniably, i know what i see. i'm sure, dear reader, you see it too.

image: red canna, by georgia o'keeffe (1923 )

whenever i used to doodle flowers in my notebooks during high school physics classes, i always found roses' throats the finest and most scintillating pieces to doodle. i never considered why. perhaps its that all those curves, gorges and finely carved petal edges create the deepest beauty any eyes could behold. and that those petals, which look so frail and weak, exist solely to bring the sweetest fruit to bear. i have this image burned into my head: a succulent fruit emerging from a flower whose petals are splitting and wilting.

metamorphosis, sensuality, and desire.
that's what my soul thinks of
when my eyes see a flower

what do you see in a flower?


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Monday, September 04, 2006

the bondage of a black dove (for ardlair)

dearest ardlair -
wherever you may lurk,
know that
you inspired this post.
i hope i did not chase you away
with this sentiment.
but, i won't apologize for writing this
... or thinking this ...
or feeling this.
come back to us soon.

image: flickr creative commons

that stupid little photon box sailed into braveheart just as william wallace lay on that wooden block, crying "FREEDOM!" and then? and then, kindred one, i thought of you. a soul so far away, and yet so very close. i know not your name, the colour of your eyes, or even what you look like. still, it matters not, for i know the colour of your soul - and i have gazed into that tiniest part of your psyche which you have laid bare, here.

do you know, dearest, that you glow inside me this night? sublime images flash in my head, and through my heart. images and dreams. dreams and fantasies. i would give a great deal to see the look on your face, dearest, when these words tell you that i awoke with the taste of you on my lips, and on my tongue, and with sweet thoughts of you, glistening in those infinitesimal beads of sweat that trickled along my breast bone.

and so, my kindred beauty, i have freed a black dove from its bondage: unsealed some more dark truth, and unfurled a little more of my damaged, raven heart. it speaks in tongues, my bruised raven heart, tongues that i do not understand. understanding -- perhaps it's an illusion? or PERHAPS --- perhaps the illusion lies in that veil of mystique which you wear like a tight sheath? or, in the crisp chill of your tender aloofness?

image: flickr creative commons

does the enigma persevere, dearest?
or the illusion?
though so very far from you,
i feel you, my sweet
-- a most delicious, enigmatic and kindred spirit --
i feel you
i dream of you

that's all. i just wanted you to know.


its all about ME

  • i'm roxanne, and this is velvet, the voice inside my head. and this -- this is her blog.
  • i'm that wild, passionate and unruly girl your mum warned you about

    i'm a maelstrom, a whirling dervish, a minx. i run from "same-ness" - i find it oppressive.

    change is good. change is necessary. life is change.

    if change scares you, if change intimidates you, if change makes you uncomfortable, then you're a BORE!

    this blog changes to reflect its continually evolving creator - moi.

    so ... adapt!

    you never know what you'll find when you get to velvet's place. that's the adventure of it all.

    this place continues to take shape, as velvet finds her voice in all this darkness.

    velvet rants, rages, throws the occasional hissy fit, launches the odd venomous tirade, and intellectually contemplates all the stuff of life, love, and soul

    its depressing, and enraging because the world burns and crumbles before our eyes. yet we sleep.

    we sleep. apathy, greed, power sit atop our eyelids like lead weights

    so, welcome to my world.

    i aim to pry your eyes open, to pry your mind open, to get you thinking outside the box, to shock you even.

    i ask the questions most choose to ignore. i think the thoughts most consider unthinkable. i'm alive. i'm awake. are you?

    hey -- WAKE UP!

  • fury wrapped in a daffodil, confused, undecided, wild child, indigo child, impatient, insomniac, rebellious, outspoken, artistic, restless, bored with routine, i love change, afraid of commitment, i work to live - not live to work, claustrophobic, perfectionist, odd and maybe downright wierd, anxious and maybe a l'il (ok, a lot) neurotic, dichotomous, a teensy bit vitrolic, prone to nastiness, a maverick and a cynic, highly intuitive, sensual, erotic, intense, spiritual -- NOT religious, a bitch, a wordsmith, poet, storyteller, addict, mother, caregiver, dog lover, voracious reader, Mac person, Coke drinker, cannibis appreciator, clean freak, prone to hissy fits, attitude - i got one, fav. colour: red, perfume: estee lauder pleasures exotic, voluptuous, afraid of falling asleep, afraid of the dark, hate being touched, still get flashbacks - PTSD, nite hawk, into fetishes, got a sadomasochistic streak in me
My profile

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my GRACE blog - giving thanx

methuselah lives here

    i have several poetry blogs on the 'net. essentially these contain the same stuff, just presented in differing formats. this methuselah just likes digging around in more than one corpse at a time!

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    scribbles & scratches



      afghan hound

      yes to madness





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    velvet poetry

      bell jar dreams

      you held me in your arms,
      my trembling alabaster fruit
      and savagely,
      you trampled me, underfoot
      as master of my shattered freedom
      you - the twisted and beautiful lord
      who sealed me in a windowless bell jar
      with anguish and solitude,
      as my only companions

      captor! my demented master!
      my withered soul screams for you
      it howls for the soothing barbs,
      hidden, in your voice
      and your frail, orgasmic vulnerability
      my withered soul screams your name,
      raging delicately,
      for the gaping hollows of my existence,
      which melted into yours:
      dessicated dreams,
      vanquished innocence

      this sick hunger in my heart for you -
      will it ever ebb?

      copyright ROXI G 2006

      your grace grotesquely crumbles

      your grace crumbled
      into grotesque flakes
      as your fingertips slashed
      my tender silken face
      with rage and vengence,
      that drench my frail child-spirit

      steeped in self-loathing,
      you infected me -
      my gauzy soul
      on your poisoned barbs
      of hatred and lusty greed

      once, i loved you -
      worshipped you, adored you
      and darkness
      eviscerated my heart
      as i watched this adoration stream past
      your inert, stoney heart

      my trembling eyes splinter
      into a thousand tears
      when i look upon your face -
      my reflection - in the looking glass
      you, who deserted my child-trust -
      remain, achingly, ever present

      this dark riverbed of adoration
      that flowed in my viscera for you
      has dried up; my heart --
      which once glistened sublimely inside yours,
      now lies in eternal anguish:
      dessicated, petrified, searingly denuded

      your grace crumbles
      into grotesque flakes
      of grief, rage and greed,
      soaked in the brine of remorse
      you beg, like i did, for a morsel of mercy
      but -- i will STARVE you of forgiveness

      copyright ROXI G 2006


        "there's no way around grief and loss: you can dodge it all you want, but sooner or later you just have to go into it, through it, and, hopefully, come out on the other side. the world you find there will never be the same as the world you left." (johnny cash)

        "i wore black because i liked it. i still do, and wearing it still means something to me. its still my symbol of rebellion - against a stagnant status quo, against our hypocritical houses of god, against people whose minds are closed to others' ideas." (johnny cash)

      poetry masters

        if only you would touch my heart
        if only you were to put your mouth
        to my heart
        if only you were to put your tongue
        like a red arrow
        there where my dusty heart is beating,
        if you were to blow on my heart
        near the sea, weeping,
        it would make a dark noise,
        like the drowsy sound of train wheels
        like the indecision of waters,
        like autumn in full leaf
        like blood,
        with a noise of damp flames
        burning the sky,
        with a sound like dreams
        or branches or the rain,
        or foghorns in some dismal port,
        if you were to blow on my heart
        near the sea, likea white ghost,
        in the spume of the wave,
        in the middle of the wind
        like a ghost unleashed,
        at the seashore, weeping.

        ... Pablo Neruda, from 'Bararole'

        By a route obscure and lonely,
        Haunted by ill angels only,
        Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
        On a black thrones reigns upright,
        i have reached these lands but newly
        From an ultimate dim Thule -
        From a wild wierd clime that lieth, sublime,
        Out of SPACE - out of TIME.

        ... Edgar Allan Poe, from 'Dream-Land'

      anais nin

        "and the day came when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."

        “i do not like to be just one anais, whole, contained. as soon as someone defines me. i do as june does; i seek escape from the confinements of definition.”

        “i speak of relief, perhaps when i write; but it is also an engraving of pain, a tatooing of myself.”

        “we are like sculptors, constantly carving out of others the image we long for, need, love or desire, often against reality, against their benefit, and always, in the end, a disappointment, because it does not fit them.”

        “life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. this is a kind of death.”