Monthly Archives: June 2006
My course is over, everything is nearly done.
I multi-tasked drinking of alcomahol and meeting MW#1 and my coursemates… It was a good night.
MW#1 gave an uncharacteristically really good hug. And then another one. I was happy.
It’s so very wrong… Finding John Cena attractive that is. I’m not allowed to find lunk-headed athletic-types attractive. It’s the smile, that black eye and his allegedly sweet nature. I can’t help myself.
I have spent my post-Beckham puke time reading Common acronyms / slang used on alt.seduction.fast. The whole site is very interesting, a sort of field guide to women as objects.
I wonder if MW#1 is well versed in these techniques? Somehow I get the idea that he is most proficient.
Oh yes, the return of MW#1. He’s been missing-in-action for quite a few months of late; I’m sure he’s been kicking ass and breaking hearts very efficiently in his absence. I’ve missed his evil brand of flirtatious fun… what with the whole Mid Atlantic heart trashing and all. Sigh. MW#1 and Mid At are strangely similar to each other- this means of course I am forever doomed to favour the unfavourable- but at least MW#1 is honest, or at least I think he is anyway…
When reading certain things I always think of various individuals as I go; you cannot read about massage or erotic talk without someone playing the other half in your head. Having dirty thoughts about MW#1 is somehow more acceptable to my overly wrought brain that those involving Mid Atlantic- My logic is totally warped there of course…
It’s also somewhat depressing to watch porn at the moment- the things I see going on on-screen I wish were being done to me and I also recall happier, more enjoyable times past as well as wishing I had someone supportive to help me feel at ease in bed.
Given that I have always been a singular individual, fantasy is about as realistic as it gets when it comes to a relationship. Although I may have a deep longing for intimacy (physical and emotional) I have come to the conclusion that sex when not in a relationship or with someone who does not think you rock their world is something I cannot do. Paradox that I am.
I wonder if it is going to be possible to meet someone who appreciates me as much as I appreciate them by the time I am thirty; I consider that I am of greater worth than the majority of women floating around, but then men seem to go for the other 95% and not me. However, I would much rather exist as I am than turn into a female version of the pickup artistes as outlined on Fast Seduction. Eugh. Yes, it’s true, I’d much rather be loser-ish and loyal, caring and honest with a brain in my unblonde head.
Update: I knew looking at Mexican home shirts was a bad idea. Damn.
27 year old Russian oil oligarch seeks wife to share his billions- This singles ad headline from my hometown amused me.
Last day at skool tomorrow. I will be really rather sad.
Also, my lack of employment has finally got to me. Eight jobs in the entire of the South East- I’m so fucked, and not in any sort of pleasurable way.
So a life of temping and supply beckons… I have to find somewhere new to live too and this prospect fills me with horror :(
Hug me Patrick.
Asia Carrera’s husband was killed last week in a car accident. Just before Father’s day- she’s got a 1 year old daughter and is 8 months pregnant with a son.
“I’m going to lose my mind when they hand me my big strong handsome husband in a tiny little wooden box…”
She seemed to have finally found some peace over the last few years being so happily married and out of the business and it’s just so sad to hear about this. She seems a genuinely nice human being. I know she’s a strong woman but it’s so sad for both her and her children. Sigh.
On to more mundane matters… I have to put in a bid for an animation package for skool… I have 6k to play with, and everything i’m looking at so far is going to cost around 800 quid for 10 machines. Spending other people’s money should be fun, but it’s really not.
The slick professionalism of Toon Boom Studio or the bones of Moho? Hmm.
I saw Brick… and it was excellent. I don’t know any teens who talk like the characters talk in this film but it was a beautiful, labyrinthine whodunnit that for the majority of the film was as confusing as The Big Sleep.
I also have someone else to invite to my dinner party of unobtainables- yes, it’a party now not just coffee: Noah Fleiss. Yeah, the one with the arms and wearing the vest- Tragic as per usual. His character was short-tempered and prone to violence but hey, he drove a fastback Mustang. Hmm… he’s younger than my brother… maybe not. I’ll stick to the character only.
On the subject of cars, on the way home I took the long way back… going out of my way to drive around in the dark when the weather is good is one of my favourite things to do. I’m not a fan of driving around unfamiliar roads at night but through relatively deserted urban areas is pleasing to me. The feeling I get when driving smoothly along with the window half down and the radio playing is similar to the feeling when I arch over mid-stroke in butterfly- a sense of fluidity and drive.
In other news: Ak! Vamp has been hospitalised. He recently announced he was going to retire in a year or so too, so I hope the herniated disc in his neck doesn’t speed up his full-time booker status.
I’m easy like Sunday morning…
I’ve not had the guts to tackle any of his work but James Joyce’ dirty letters (NSFW) are wonderfully filthy. I enjoy reading such obscenities passed between two people and thinking about the sort of lust that lives behind the words.
Woman: Self Portait at Kashya Hildebrand– an excellent selection of art by women that isn’t given merit purely due to the sex of the artist. The butterflies are particularly beautiful.
Jason Salavon (NSFW) is an artist after my own heart. His work based around film and pornogprahy is fascinating.
Really great work at Vectorpark. Try balancing the mobile- It’s a tricky task.
Why do women in drama shows have to be brutalised whenever they show signs of independence, for example in CSI or CJ in The West Wing? A critical take by a reviewer of last nights CSI:NY ep ‘All Access’
This man is clearly in need of help: The Architecture of Fight Club
Excellent photojournal courtesy of Magnum on the Chernobyl Legacy. Distressing but very well worth the sit-through.
ABC News: Man Survives Suicide Jump From Golden Gate Bridge “Hines stood on the bridge for 40 minutes. No one approached him to ask what was wrong. When a tourist came up and asked whether he could take her photo, Hines said that was the final straw – clear proof that no one cared.”
Etymology of firecrotch Double-Tongued Word Wrester Dictionary
Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons – The Night from the Bubblegum Machine
Well-written and nicely photographed erotica at Eros Zine (NSFW)
P.S. Mike Patton is both an interesting human being and hot, and thus is incendiary. I imagine that him, Scott and Ian would get on very well together. I must introduce them the next time we go out for coffee.
He’s totally the type of man that makes my mind work overtime- a brain behind the hotness. Of course, who doesn’t love the quick fix of SPF but even if my chosen paramour isn’t blessed with clear skin and a perfect smile, personality goes a long way. For example- The Rock may have that killer smile and the body but that’s not what makes me dissolve when I watch him- it’s the “Hey Baby, How you doin'” attitude that just kills me every time. Oh, and Mikey boy looks very good in a suit. Bonus.
Mr. Bungle – Travolta
I have now spent over an hour looking for suitable Mike Patton images and sounds. Sigh. I can now highly recommend the new Peeping Tom stuff.
I still have work to do for the upcoming week but now the interview is over I feel at such a loose end. I can just see my unemployment stretching out yonder and the lack of distraction (and a pay packet) is a bit of a downer. Also my Mother was very sympathetic over the phone from la France, but her repeated “Oh, I’m really sorry” and “I hope something comes up for you” kinda pissed me off. I was feeling alright about the darned interview up until then and her not knowing when to stop has put a downer on my evening.
I think I might spend some quality time out on the blanket tomorrow if the weather is up to it. An afternoon daydreaming about hugs and backrubs should hopefully settle my spirit a little.
I didn’t get the job.
I am feeling alright about it in that my greatness was confimed through the interview process but also slightly annoyed in that the other two candidates were textiles specialists and I think that’s what they were looking for- and I am certainly not one. They didn’t mention this in their advert either so I feel like I was fighting an uphill battle from the get go.
Anway, it went well even though I didn’t get it. I’m just rather apprehensive as to what if anything will come up over the next few weeks, especially as there are only two more weeks of my course left. Ho hum.
So I was late for skool this morning because I was preoccupied with being Scott Levy‘s significant other. Yes, the girlfriend of Scotty Flamingo.
It was all fairly pathetic- I dreamt he was kind to me and did small things that showed he cared a lot; we had long discussions about the state of the world whilst slouched together in front of our tv, he was highly appealing and suprisingly self-contained. With a laughing growl he dumped me off the sofa down onto the carpet and proceeded to put me in a variety of different holds and tickle me whilst I screamed (well, more like aarghed) the house down.
“Where is this hurting?”
“Arghh! My leg… hamstring!”
“Okay, so what is this called?”
“I don’t know… Sharpshooter?”
“Nope. Try again.” Starts to tickle. Between hysterical laughs
“Stop it! Mercy! Pleease… I give up!”
He’s in no way the greatest technical practitioner but he was more than able to tie me up like a pretzel (being flexible has it’s downsides).
We talked about where we should go on holiday this year (Mexico? Ireland?) and that he needed to remind me to book up for a new term of the ceramics course I was enjoying. He loaded and ran the dishwasher whilst I stretched out to watch Law & Order: SVU and then mercilessly mocked me for my crush on Stabler, paying for this evilness by getting a big poke in the side courtesy of my good self. He grinned at this ever-so-valiant attack.
I felt very small and safe when he held me and he made me laugh an awful lot- Basically domestic life with a big-brained recovering narcotics addict. We seemed terribly happy.
My unconscious mind seeks out the comfort I desire even by hooking myself up the most inappropriate people. Warped. Then again he’s got a brain in his head: “The problem with most women is they fail to realize that there’s always something sexually attractive about them. They’re just too busy being insecure to find out what it is. There’s beauty in flaw and imperfection. To use one of my favorite quotes, ‘scars are souvenirs you never lose.'” Oh, Sweetie.
I know that I can be highly sexually attractive, it’s just finding someone that I feel accepts me and helps me feel at ease seems to be difficult. I’ve found only one person that helped me feel really comfortable in my own skin; maybe feeling comfortable comes when you think someone cares for you?
Aanyway, after England I am officially supporting Mexico in the World Cup. ¡Viva La Raza! Rather unfortunately I washed a wadge of tissues in my shorts today. It’s like my washing has had a close encounter with a Yeti. Eugh.
My first interview is all day Friday. Wish me luck, Sweetheart.
I heard it on a tv trailer and searched and found… Justice vs. Simian… and this is why I am dancing furiously alone in my room wearing a vest rolled into a bikini top, shorts and the highest pair of heels I own. I have checked the door is indeed locked.
On loop, loud with headphones, robot dancing, gesturing, twisting, mash potato-ing, arse-shaking, strutting… imagining being in a hot, dark club dancing like a mentalist with eyes closed and arms flailing. God help anyone that strays into my path… force of destruction that I am.
I close my eyes and it’s hot, dark, loud and sweaty… I’m in the middle of the crowded dancefloor wearing a tight, short skirt accessorised with half an arm of tattoos with eyes narrowed in a drunken haze. I proceed to very agressively robot dance into my Sweetie… genius.
Hey, I’m a creative type with an really good imagination and no-one to provide distraction. Give me a break.
From monitoring my site stats I am under the impression that there are regular visitors to nopoke who I do not know. I could understand the reading of a random personal weblog if it had pictures or philosophical answers on it but really, I post for myself and to inform intimates as to my current status, so I find it very interesting that people keep coming back for more.
Maybe they like my writing style. Heh.
People from Australia, Korea, China, Universities in Lahndahn, Texas and Leipzig… a varied bunch. I wonder what you find interesting?
I dressed up and went out for a delightful sojurn into town with Dave. The food looked wonderful and I am sure it tasted great but due to an allergy flare-up anosmia and ageusia were the order of the evening. It was really very disappointing.
Whilst we were eating and talking who did we spy wandering along but Mid Atlantic and (from her self-description) what we believed to be High Maintainence.
Much discussion ensued.
Dumb as a box of hair. I like this phrase very much.
I’ve found more art I would like to buy (what’s wrong with me): Gorgeous screenprints that are actually affordable
Red Ink like Blood
And I finally finished all seven discs of Season One. Sigh. I will now be bereft of Mulder until I get a job and associated pay packet… but I have just discovered I can get an entire season for 12 quid. The money I am not spending having fun with Mid Atlantic can be spent on another unobtainable man (who I can keep hold of in a box set). Eeee!
So when I was on the tube today I thought I walked past Christopher Daniels. The fact that this registered in my brain is really rather sad… at least I didn’t do a double take or chase ofter the Angel-a-like begging to bear his children (unlike some people would).
I spent the afternoon lunching at and wandering around Tate Modern with my Mother. It was good to see her- we had an excellent lunch and sat and discussed the various goings on of the family and myself before taking in the rehang. I swear they have changed the grey on the walls of the Seagram Rothko room; I think it used to be the colour of this page’s background and is now the colour of this text box- it’s not as good now (it’s too pale) :(
I saw a wonderful piece of work by Christian Marclay (warning Shockwave) Video Quartet which I sat and took in for it’s entire 14 minute length- I really want to go back and see it again. The moving image is so seductive and had the power to move- much more so than a static painting or sculpture, but when I saw a Flavin in a later room I was just as delighted.
It makes no sense- a static artwork is never as emotionally changing as a moving one but bright lights on a white wall have the power to uplift? I mean the Weather Project was insanely popular and had a giant light at its core; maybe the reaction to coloured light is something in the lizard brain or related to a childhood love of viewing the world through cellophane sweet wrappers?
Back to skool tomorrow for the final three-week stretch. Hmm.
In other news: I seem to be going through a rather unfortunate phase of having deeply inappropriate thoughts about Mid Atlantic. Hmm.
Ahhh. Lying under the sun staring up at the ultra-green leaves of a tree gently shimmering in the breeze … bliss.
True to form I slipped into my vest and combats, slopped on some sunscreen and slapped on my FDNY hat and sunglasses before even setting foot outside. Of course, most other people are stretched out in bikinis. I may not attract favourable attention but my lack of bikini confidence is a good thing when it comes to getting skin cancer.
It was really good to be outside under the warm sky- basking like a gecko is fun. I watched the other field users playing frisbee and football and ant watched too. I day-dreamed to my Zen and had dirty thoughts to the music, thinking about being on a beach (in a bikini) with someone very slowly rubbing sunscreen into my back and stomach. Gah.
I am now looking forward to an evening watching me some more Fox, maybe a little tv and some good food and red wine. Solo drinking is so where it’s at.
Yes, it’s approaching 5am and i’m still up and just about able to type. I have a nasty tension headache and it’s all the fault of Mid Atlantic.
You see, he lent me his X-Files Season One box set (it is very very shiny) and I have watched around about 8 hours in one sitting; my brain feels like it’s going to burst. Hopefully when I do hit the hay I will dream of Agent Mulder running through forests in his jeans and grey t-shirt. Mid Atlantic is evil, EVIL I tell you- making me think all sorts of inappropriate thoughts (what else is new)…
Oh Fox, I only now realise how much i’ve missed you… (and Scully and Skinner and Doggett too) I had forgotten how funny and hot and prone to injury you were…
X-Files DVD Screen Grab Archive
So, Sacrifice at Mid Atlantics. I tried to remain buttoned up although I spazzed out for a while after merciless mocking of Raven and consuming Ribena and quesadillas- He’s a Tubby Pirate apparently. I struggled to defend him as any honourable maiden of the seas would do.
These are what could be classed as tubby pirates:
This is NOT:
Hey- I love him for his mind rather than his body- Is that a crime? For the latter I’ll Hail me some Sabin, alright?
So anyway, I tried to keep restrained throughout all of this- staying detached so I don’t care as much is the way to be (not that it bloody works). The meeting wasn’t as hilariously excruciating as our first one post disaster but I still found it awkward; I probably talked to his housemate more than I did him. I guess it’s the walk back and then the ride home that does it- the saying goodbye then the time alone to think. Gets me down.
Maybe our friendship was based around attraction of various sorts and when after all the years something finally happened and then all came to nought the ‘point’ kind of evaporated? I’m just tired I guess and feeling lonesome; it’s funny how that cliche is true- you can indeed spend an entire evening in a room of people and feel alone. I do not view self-worth as being gained by the affections of others or the amount garnered, however there comes a point where it would be nice for someone to show me a little love and attention and truly care.
I’m in one of those crap moods where I imagine comfort being someone holding me and softly stroking my hair and I feel relaxed, safe and warm. Sigh.
Oh Patrick. I’ll go and make some hot chocolate for us and I’ll talk to you and I’ll feel better.
It is very rare I wish to buy artwork, actually only about once every decade or so, but the recent work by Daniel J. Skråmestø (NSFW) is excellent.
He takes images of gay porn off the internets and digitally paints upon them until he has a very high quality image. He then prints them on to paper or canvas and paints over the top so that in the end they look similar to an oil painting- being conceptually minded the process is just as interesting to me as the outcome.
I particularly like numbers 2 and 4. Sadly they are a bit out of my budget- but not too badly for an investment- around 600 Euros. I would have one above my bed in my palatial spread I will have married into when I am 32. My bed- I’m sorry, I should have said ‘our’ bed; The husband would have to appreciate the gay porn too…