poisonedgrace: (Default)
This in just DAYS before I get my Dr Phibes tattoo that I've been planning for several years. Maybe I will just wait... or not do it at all.

http://www.naughtybutnicerob.com/johnny-depp-to-star-in-the-abominable-dr-phibes-remake/

I am very heavily leaning to 'not at all'. I imagine that after my shock and horror wears off, I will put to bed the desire to complete the tattoo and just carry a sick nostalgia of how cool it would have been.

I honestly can not begin to imagine the horrific travesty that will become my 2nd favourite film of all time, and my #1 favourite English language film ever. This is the greatest love story, and the most romantic movie ever made, not to mention Vincent Price's best work.

Tim Burton attaching his slimy name to it is the final straw in a long line of him becoming a shitty wanna-be goth Tarantino.

I am beyond sickened at this point, and I guess I should consider myself lucky that I changed my mind and re-designed the tattoo (causing delays) at the last minute.
poisonedgrace: (Default)

Been thinking.
Like usual.

I don't really do the 'new years' resolution business.  Seems like a cop out to only bother to try to improve yourself once a year.
I am always trying to look for better ways and new thoughts and ideas.

I notice I have this bad trend of always going above and beyond for people...
Be they friends, partners, whatever.
Never seems to amount to much, other than a lot of busy work for me.

Totally sick of it.
It's bogus and if it does anything at all, it just enables people to be shitty friends.
From now on, I will nod do more than 50%.
I will not meet anyone more than 1/2 way.

I'm sick of having friends who move or get new phone numbers or whatever, and they don't bother to tell me, or give me the number so I can contact them.  So then I have to ask.  And not get any info, or even an answer.  So then I ask again.  Same.  So then 6 months later i ask again, and maybe, just maybe if that person finally needs something, I will get an answer.

Sick of friends whom I invite to things, and either don't get an answer, or they constantly cancel at the last minute.  Especially sick of that when _I_ am consistently the one asking / arranging.  If you're busy, fine, but at least respect that I make attempts enough to make one back sometime.  

From now on, I will contact someone, or reach out to them with a 'Hey what's your new number?' or a "Wanna catch a movie?" ONE time, then I am done.  YOU can ask ME the next time.  If you never do, then that tells me exactly how you feel about me.

I am sick of running after people.  Sick of doing the majority of the work.  Sick of chasing friendships with people who clearly take it for granted.  

I will reset my counter right.... NOW, so after making this decision and planning to stick with it, I can accurately keep tabs on who doesn't give a shit enough to bother.

It doesn't mean that we won't or can't still be friends, but it does mean that I am not going to constantly 'go the extra mile' for you over and over and over until all the miles are on my side and you're just sitting there enjoying a door mat.

It makes me feel like a serious loser, and damages my self esteem to constantly take that sort of poor treatment from people and if you are REALLY my friend, you shouldn't expect or want it to be that way.

If you just wanna be kinda or sometimes friends or whatever, that's fine too, because goodness knows that I am NOT the most social of persons.  

I can actually practically guarantee that unless the 'event' is 'going to the movies' or 'getting some food' that I am pretty much NOT up for it.  I don't really do 'parties' or 'clubs' aside from the very occasional concert a couple of times a year.  I am not comfortable around crowds, and I get antsy around people I don't know.  I know my limitations and my comfort zones and I have to abide by those things, but I still appreciate the heck out of people thinking about me and caring enough to invite me, even if it is beyond my ability to attend.

BUT conversely, if the event IS "catch a movie" or "grab some food" I am almost ALWAYS down for those, time, money and other responsibilities depending.  

Yes, I realize this probably makes me a boring person, but I do not define myself by your ideas of the world, so it does not bother me either :)

I guess in the past, I have gotten sidetracked by people who were needy and ultimately abused the parameters of a healthy interaction, and I want to be done with that.  If I stop wasting time on people like that, then I can focus more on the people who actually DO give a damn enough to think about me.




poisonedgrace: (anteater)
   Is there a right or wrong way to tell yourself "I told you so!" ?  Is there a way to do so which doesn't indicate an impending insanity?

What is wrong with the world we live in?  I find it so terribly disturbing that people are not judged on their actions, but rather on the appearance they strive to maintain.

It does not matter if you are a good, kind, caring person who truly goes out of your way to help someone.  It does not matter if you give and give, expecting nothing in return.  It does not matter if you love, respect and treat someone very well. 

The first thing people ask/say is "Did he ask you to marry him?  No?  Well, he is a liar, he is false, and he is a terrible person!"

HOWEVER, if you are batshit crazy (conversely, Crazy as a SHR, for you southerners) you are always making someone cry, being a dick, faithless, unsupportive, controlling and weasely, but you DID ask someone to marry you, then it's "romantic".  It's "sweet", it's all sorts of praiseworthy, great, fine and good.

I have seen and heard this (not just applicable to 'marriage' but to other relationships, parenting, counseling, friendships, what-have-you.... simply change the variables to match the parameter and you have plug & play concept structure.

The appearance of a thing is more important to society than the mechanics of a thing.  It's perfectly fine if you are a cheater, an abuser, and a vile evil person, as long as you look good when you leave the house.  It's like these people who put 1,200.00 rims on a 800.00 car.

I have some theories as to why this is, but I'm not really up for going there (and I don't think I can with out a whole 'nother soapbox which is likely to be very offensive to certain segments of the cultural quilt).

I'm sick of it.
Sick of it all.

I will never be "traditional" in a lot of ways.  I will never put value and focus on frippery and gilding.  Those things don't matter.  What really matters are your actions.  So many people (seems like the majority of them lately) say one thing, and act in a completely different way.  To me, THAT is a bad thing.

Be honest.
Be true.
Be just.
Be fair.

Strive for these things.  These are the things that SHOULD matter.
Who cares if you have a white picket fence?
Why should it matter if you do not have traditional, conventional trappings of interaction?
If you are good and noble and kind, and self sacrificing and put others before yourself?  THAT is what should matter.

The world is so entrenched in the idea that appearance is more important than substance that it's really hard to cope.


In addition to all the people who judge only on appearance and don't care about the substance, there also the co-conspirators to that.
The people who ONLY have appearance, and lack substance.  They put on such a great show that you fall for the facade, never realizing it's only a paper moon.

They will TELL you all these big, great and grand things.  They will even claim to want all these big, great and grand things from you, but festering and crawling right underneath that polished surface is a seething pool of falsehood.  They are telling you all these fine things, but then deliberately breaking your faith.  All the while telling you how badly they want perfection, they're undermining what they claim to strive for.

I just don't get it.

I am a simple creature in many ways.
I say what I think and feel.
I am honest and up front.
I do not up-sale myself or promise anything that I can or will not deliver.
If I do not have it in me, I will let you know.

Apparently, this is the wrong way to work within society.

What I should be doing (so it seems) is coming up with the Ultimate Marketing Scenario and detailing it exactly to What Someone Wants, and selling them some false but perfect tailored and ideal idea, weather or not I have any ability, plan or even desire to actually follow through with it.

YAY SOCIETY.

I simply am not, and I will never be.
I do not want to be.

I will stay out of step.
Even if it means that I will be ostracized, vilified, and burned at the stake for it.

More wrongs don't make it right, and I will not bow to the yoke of the culture of lies.
poisonedgrace: (do not want)
   So, I woke up this morning, as usual, got ready for work, as usual, headed to the garage and got in the car as usual.  Opened the garage door and started to back out when I noticed a looming shadow.

I leave for work before the sun comes up, so it's always dark, but this was somehow darker.  I immediately stop and take a hard WTF out the garage door.

Ain't it grand?  Some amazing wonder douche parked their Giant Chevy Pickup Truck RIGHT AGAINST MY GARAGE DOOR.  Very successfully sealing me in.  I was slack jaw astounded.  After defusing all of my initial rage fueled impulses on how to solve the problem, I called the management company number, even thought they were closed.  

Eventually an answering service picked up and I relayed the problem to the creature on the other end of the line.  A few minutes later, it called me back and stated that she had informed "mumbled, garbled croaking sound".  A suspicious "Excuse me?" earned the pleasure of listening to the strange sound again.  I somewhat doubtfully said "Err... Thank you?" and the call was ended.

I sat wondering for a moment, if the creature was summoning it's hideous otherworldly master from beyond the dimensions of time!  Perhaps Tsathoggua or some Spawn of Cthulhu (I was fairly sure it was not Shub Niggurath or Yog-Sothoth, because it wasn't the right sort of croak).

I crept down stairs to the garage and waited on the bumper of my car, with my garage door half open.
Before too long had passed, a guy who looked like an off duty police officer came along.  He was wearing a WilCo Sheriff long tee, a pair of baggy pants and sandals.  Sort of an odd combination, but I reckoned he was off duty, and probably lives on the property as a sort of 'go to' guy for these sorts of things.  He inspected the vehicle, and told me that it did not belong to anyone who lives here, so he could not go and wake anyone up to move it.

Consequently, he called a tow truck, then departed.  I waited for a good while for the truck, he finally arrived (really nice guy, too) and had the vehicle removed within a couple of minutes flat.

I was an hour and a half late to work.  Hopefully I wont get in trouble for it.  I am never late though, so maybe that will factor in.

Seriously though, who in the hell just parks up in front of some random strangers garage?  That is such a total jerkface thing to do that I don't even have words for it!

What if my wife had been having a baby, and I had to get her to the hospital?!  What if my kid fell down and broke his arm?  What if... you know, I was going to WORK in the morning like regular decent folk?!  That jerk had no way of knowing that I'm some scumbag with no wife or kids.  Little did they know that I DO have a job, however!

Man, I truly hope it costs them an arm and a leg to get it back, and I hope that they were even later than me!  I assume they were there visiting someone in the complex or something, so they probably had a ride where they needed to be, unlike me.  It probably wasn't even an inconvenience for the assholes.

I took pictures documenting the entire thing, step by step.  I will do something with them when I get home.

There's my dose of adventure for the day.
poisonedgrace: (angry luffy)


  I read this in a friend's blog.  Hopefully she doesn't mind me sampling it here, since it IS completely anonymous as I won't identify who wrote it.  It just hit me very solidly and deeply.  I guess if I were literate, I might use the word "profoundly".   I want to preserve it for myself for that reason too.  There is surely a lesson for me here.  It just sort of sums up how it's seemed to go for me so much of the time when I've had interest in someone.

"There is no doubt that there is more excitement to be had during the chase than there is in the capture. On that note, the only reason why someone would be excited about a filled box is because it's contents are unknown. Only after the box has been opened, does interest in the box itself take a drastic pitfall; all that matters is what's inside. It's contents may invoke happiness, gratitude, spite, or even nonchalance, but the box is then often discarded like so much trash..."

It's strange, and sad.  I can see it being the makings of a vicious cycle.  I can tell that over the years, I continually feel less and less inclined to really open up with people.  The reason is spoken very effectively (from a woman's point of view, no less) above.  I feel like every time I've done so...  Opened up and fully shared of myself, with all honesty and lack of reserve, that it's been the death sentence for any interest that has been shown me.

I've said in this blog over the years, how many times? About my heart being like Pandora's Box?  Endlessly.  This is exactly why. 

I don't want to be the sort of guy who never opens up.  Who never shares and never lets anyone in fully.  Women always seem to complain about that.  Always fussing about guys who do that.  But they don;t seem to run screaming from them...  They seem to stay with them, and work at it tirelessly.  What does this teach us?

It seems like when (for whatever personal reason) I haven't been willing or able to let someone in 100%...  That is when they're interested, and maintain an interest.  I've joked before about "Whenever I write a poem for someone... that's when they run screaming for the hills."  It's 1/2 a joke, but I guess also 1/2 symbolic of this exact situation. 

It makes me feel like the only way to win is to lose.  Seems like the only answer to get anyone's interest and maintain it is to keep them out to some degree.

Ironic.  You feel loneliness, so you want someone in your life, but the only way to keep them is to remain lonely by keeping them far enough away that they don't bail on you.

Is Loneliness inevitable then?  Is The Hedgehog's Dilemma just an inescapable fact of life?  Why?  Is this due to ....what, exactly?  Human Frailty?  Unenlightenment?

Is society defective, or am I?  Is it unnatural and wrong to be as open as I have been?  I feel it must be.  I've been feeling the effects of this for a long long time now.  To the point that I've even stopped believing in relationships at all.  I realize that this is a powerful force in my situation now.  Reading this paragraph this morning really brought it to my attention.  I'm practically at a loss for words because it's so true in my life that THIS has happened so many times.

How sad is it that it truly seems like the only ones who ever REALLY wanted me were the ones that (for whatever reason) I was running from?

I have no doubt that my 'box' is filled with some very interesting, if not downright wonderous things, but if you can't get anyone to really even look at the contents, then what good does it do even if they're Smithsonian worthy?

I'm not sure I can even write anymore at the moment, because his is very large and chalky and I need to digest it for a spell.
poisonedgrace: (angry luffy)


  I read this in a friend's blog.  Hopefully she doesn't mind me sampling it here, since it IS completely anonymous as I won't identify who wrote it.  It just hit me very solidly and deeply.  I guess if I were literate, I might use the word "profoundly".   I want to preserve it for myself for that reason too.  There is surely a lesson for me here.  It just sort of sums up how it's seemed to go for me so much of the time when I've had interest in someone.

"There is no doubt that there is more excitement to be had during the chase than there is in the capture. On that note, the only reason why someone would be excited about a filled box is because it's contents are unknown. Only after the box has been opened, does interest in the box itself take a drastic pitfall; all that matters is what's inside. It's contents may invoke happiness, gratitude, spite, or even nonchalance, but the box is then often discarded like so much trash..."

It's strange, and sad.  I can see it being the makings of a vicious cycle.  I can tell that over the years, I continually feel less and less inclined to really open up with people.  The reason is spoken very effectively (from a woman's point of view, no less) above.  I feel like every time I've done so...  Opened up and fully shared of myself, with all honesty and lack of reserve, that it's been the death sentence for any interest that has been shown me.

I've said in this blog over the years, how many times? About my heart being like Pandora's Box?  Endlessly.  This is exactly why. 

I don't want to be the sort of guy who never opens up.  Who never shares and never lets anyone in fully.  Women always seem to complain about that.  Always fussing about guys who do that.  But they don;t seem to run screaming from them...  They seem to stay with them, and work at it tirelessly.  What does this teach us?

It seems like when (for whatever personal reason) I haven't been willing or able to let someone in 100%...  That is when they're interested, and maintain an interest.  I've joked before about "Whenever I write a poem for someone... that's when they run screaming for the hills."  It's 1/2 a joke, but I guess also 1/2 symbolic of this exact situation. 

It makes me feel like the only way to win is to lose.  Seems like the only answer to get anyone's interest and maintain it is to keep them out to some degree.

Ironic.  You feel loneliness, so you want someone in your life, but the only way to keep them is to remain lonely by keeping them far enough away that they don't bail on you.

Is Loneliness inevitable then?  Is The Hedgehog's Dilemma just an inescapable fact of life?  Why?  Is this due to ....what, exactly?  Human Frailty?  Unenlightenment?

Is society defective, or am I?  Is it unnatural and wrong to be as open as I have been?  I feel it must be.  I've been feeling the effects of this for a long long time now.  To the point that I've even stopped believing in relationships at all.  I realize that this is a powerful force in my situation now.  Reading this paragraph this morning really brought it to my attention.  I'm practically at a loss for words because it's so true in my life that THIS has happened so many times.

How sad is it that it truly seems like the only ones who ever REALLY wanted me were the ones that (for whatever reason) I was running from?

I have no doubt that my 'box' is filled with some very interesting, if not downright wonderous things, but if you can't get anyone to really even look at the contents, then what good does it do even if they're Smithsonian worthy?

I'm not sure I can even write anymore at the moment, because his is very large and chalky and I need to digest it for a spell.

Rapture

Mar. 24th, 2010 10:55 am
poisonedgrace: (Default)
-


Balancing along with a life filled with Rezső Seress moments.  There is no system of checks and balances.  There is a point where any person, sane or otherwise, but especially sane, must take pause and reflect on the inherent value of the entire composition.  Besieged by loss and cruelty and faithlessness.  Bitterness, woe and malcontent.  Constantly under fire by the destroyers, by the cruel, the avaricious and the hateful.  Trying to make good and conscionable choices for ones self and for ones interactions with those around you.  Attempting, endlessly to support and aid those you can so that you might facilitate some small ripple of positive change in the world.
Above all else, Enduring, Endlessly, all of this with a dignity, grace, patience and proper bearing.

And for what?
So that you might be eternally and universally shat upon at every possible opportunity?  So that you might be neglected, frowned upon, and judged as weak?  In fact, it takes an almost inextinguishable wealth of strength to live this way.  Of course rewards are not sought, but how many times can one be bitten by the mouth one is feeding before Doubt is inevitable?  How much can one poor soul endure?  It seems as though some vast and hideous scientific experiment on the durability of kindness and propriety is underway where being besieged on all sides by the vile, the malignant, the horrid and the witless, where being tormented by the thoughtless, the careless, the domineering, and the vile are commonplace. 

This is what humanity has chosen?  This is the world that has been crafted for us to dwell in?  What then, precisely, is there to stay here for?  The one or two (perhaps dozen, if you are incredibly fortunate) who have not yet turned on you?  Ticking time bombs, all.  And of those, how many are true?  How many are more than base acquaintances?  How many more than that are villains who have simply not yet sprouted ganged mouths?  How many of the genuinely solid and noble ones (assuming you have not yet weeded them all out already) how many of those are simple savages who follow naught but whim, and whose whim may disalign from yours at the drop of nary a word, and suddenly they should spring athwart across you and shove you over the tottering precipice?

Where does one turn when that reservoir of patience, strength and hope has cracked under the gale storms of this world?
There is no safety net.  No second ending to prevent the people from being disturbed.  No one to step in and save someone of this nature, because they've all come to rely on being the saved and take it for granted.  What choices are left when this storm breaks?  When the end of this metaphorical rope is reached?  What then?  What when every breath draws in a misery and loneliness that deadens the heart beat by beat into a painful burning stone?  At what point is one allowed the choice of power over ones own life rather than persisting to exist solely for the sake of not causing misery to those around him?

What do we have left, and what do we do with it?  How are endless burdens to be borne throughout all of ones life?  At what point does 'stupid' and 'crazy' and 'wrong' become oh so very right as well as being the very last and sole remaining choice that even resemble the concept of dignity? 

Life is love, trust and hope. What do you have when these have been abused and assaulted to have become mangled beyond all recognition or repair?


"Sunday is gloomy,
My hours are slumberless
Dearest the shadows
I live with are
numberless

Little white flowers
Will never awaken you
Not where the black coach of
Sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thoughts
Of ever returning you

Would they be angry
If I thought of joining you?

Gloomy
is Sunday,
With shadows I spend it all
My heart and I
Have decided to end it all

Soon there'll be candles
And prayers that are said I know
But let them not weep
Let them know that I'm glad to go
Death is no dream
For in death I'm caressin' you
With the last breath of my soul
I'll be blessin' you"

Rapture

Mar. 24th, 2010 10:55 am
poisonedgrace: (Default)
-


Balancing along with a life filled with Rezső Seress moments.  There is no system of checks and balances.  There is a point where any person, sane or otherwise, but especially sane, must take pause and reflect on the inherent value of the entire composition.  Besieged by loss and cruelty and faithlessness.  Bitterness, woe and malcontent.  Constantly under fire by the destroyers, by the cruel, the avaricious and the hateful.  Trying to make good and conscionable choices for ones self and for ones interactions with those around you.  Attempting, endlessly to support and aid those you can so that you might facilitate some small ripple of positive change in the world.
Above all else, Enduring, Endlessly, all of this with a dignity, grace, patience and proper bearing.

And for what?
So that you might be eternally and universally shat upon at every possible opportunity?  So that you might be neglected, frowned upon, and judged as weak?  In fact, it takes an almost inextinguishable wealth of strength to live this way.  Of course rewards are not sought, but how many times can one be bitten by the mouth one is feeding before Doubt is inevitable?  How much can one poor soul endure?  It seems as though some vast and hideous scientific experiment on the durability of kindness and propriety is underway where being besieged on all sides by the vile, the malignant, the horrid and the witless, where being tormented by the thoughtless, the careless, the domineering, and the vile are commonplace. 

This is what humanity has chosen?  This is the world that has been crafted for us to dwell in?  What then, precisely, is there to stay here for?  The one or two (perhaps dozen, if you are incredibly fortunate) who have not yet turned on you?  Ticking time bombs, all.  And of those, how many are true?  How many are more than base acquaintances?  How many more than that are villains who have simply not yet sprouted ganged mouths?  How many of the genuinely solid and noble ones (assuming you have not yet weeded them all out already) how many of those are simple savages who follow naught but whim, and whose whim may disalign from yours at the drop of nary a word, and suddenly they should spring athwart across you and shove you over the tottering precipice?

Where does one turn when that reservoir of patience, strength and hope has cracked under the gale storms of this world?
There is no safety net.  No second ending to prevent the people from being disturbed.  No one to step in and save someone of this nature, because they've all come to rely on being the saved and take it for granted.  What choices are left when this storm breaks?  When the end of this metaphorical rope is reached?  What then?  What when every breath draws in a misery and loneliness that deadens the heart beat by beat into a painful burning stone?  At what point is one allowed the choice of power over ones own life rather than persisting to exist solely for the sake of not causing misery to those around him?

What do we have left, and what do we do with it?  How are endless burdens to be borne throughout all of ones life?  At what point does 'stupid' and 'crazy' and 'wrong' become oh so very right as well as being the very last and sole remaining choice that even resemble the concept of dignity? 

Life is love, trust and hope. What do you have when these have been abused and assaulted to have become mangled beyond all recognition or repair?


"Sunday is gloomy,
My hours are slumberless
Dearest the shadows
I live with are
numberless

Little white flowers
Will never awaken you
Not where the black coach of
Sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thoughts
Of ever returning you

Would they be angry
If I thought of joining you?

Gloomy
is Sunday,
With shadows I spend it all
My heart and I
Have decided to end it all

Soon there'll be candles
And prayers that are said I know
But let them not weep
Let them know that I'm glad to go
Death is no dream
For in death I'm caressin' you
With the last breath of my soul
I'll be blessin' you"

poisonedgrace: (Default)


Poets can die in a fire.  Seriously.  Line us up.  Shoot us dead.  We've had enough.  The world has moved on, and we have not.  Dead art forms suck, especially the ones that will never, EVER make you any money, or even earn you a slight sliver of respect.  It's worse when you're even derided for it.  This is something we do because we have to, not because we want to.  But it seems hopeless if you want to do anything more with it.  We can not exist as mere writers anymore.  It is apparently required that you become a performer

Ideally you'd better know how to play music.  You'd better have a guitar if you want to do anything with your poetry.  And those of us (like myself, for instance) who have a deformity of the hands that prevent us from guitar?  Welcome to being instantly invalidated as an artist.  I'm not sure that even 'normal' hands would help because some of us just aren't really interested in (nor do we have an understanding of) music to speak of.  That's great if that's what you do, but it's complete bullshit that it's somehow become one of the requirements or worse, a life-support system of poetry.

Not only has pop culture killed poetry, while industry held it down, but poetry has gone a long way toward killing itself.  Slam Poetry is the devil.  There, I said it.  AND WHAT?  We can take it straight the fuck outside.  If I wanted to compete in sports, I would have been on the football team.  If poetry were supposed to be a team event, then Shakespeare would have had a big number on his back, and a brewing company logo on his front. 

Again, that's fine and dandy if that's what you're into.  But it's sick and wrong that it's all that's left.  It's sick that the literary value of a literary work has taken a distant loss to the delivery mechanism.  It's wrong that the notion of winning is a neck and head above the idea of creating.

How do you truly judge a poem of all things based on how it is spoken aloud or performed?  Granted he is absolutely not one of my favourite poets in any way, shape or form (I sort of even dislike him, truth be told) but can you imagine how on earth you could properly perform a poem by celelbrated poet e.e. cummings?  Half of his impact in many of his poems were from the careful and artful arrangement of the characters and blank spaces on the page.

Not only does Slam limit itself, but it creates its own style.  You're hard pressed to do well in the scene (as if you'd want to?) while all together distancing yourself from any sort of hip-hop / dub style delivery.  Because guess what?  The guy behind you?  Yeah, the one with the beard there?  He's about to drop a hip-hop style political poem.  So congratulations, Baudelaire!  You lose!  No, it does not matter if you are the father of more movements in poetry than anyone in this room has ever heard of.  No, it does not matter that you revoloutionized the art form.  What matters is that, in spite of being a literary genius, you had no real sense of music.  Because that's what sells here in this sporting event & popularity contest, and while you're "OK on paper", your performance just wasn't  "in line with the currently accepted favourites".

You'd better be able to beatbox if you want to do anything with your poetry.  And those of us (like myself, for instance) who still have no real desire to create music?  Well, awesome, you get to continue being invalidated as an artist.  Because what's any of it worth with out a hook?  Apparently nothing.  Dance, monkey.  If you can't perform, then nobody cares.

Sports, music...  Rubbish all.  Either way, it's no longer about writing, and hasn't been for too damn long.  It's about performing.  And can you seriously imagine Baudelaire, Rimbaud, E. A. Poe, Tennyson, or P.B. Shelley up there performing one of their poems?  Honestly, the notion is absurd!  Not to mention that Rimbaud would end by urinating on someones poems (and / or hat) then end up being beaten unconscious in the back alley behind the coffee shop!

Don't get me wrong, there are some people involved with Sports Poetry whom I enjoy the work of.  I think Buddy Wakefield is genuinely amazing, for instance.  But I can't help but wonder what sort of things some of my favourites would be producing if the entire system of doing things were to abandon all requirements of music and Def Poetry Stylings(tm).  Options are great.  Requirements are crap.

But the rest of us?  Line us up!  March us out!  Shoot us dead!  We struggle along in a world where what we produce is just a laughing stock.  Unseen, unheard and quite often insulted, degraded and belittled, even by other 'artists' and 'writers'.

The irony of the idea that these old ways of this style of classic literature have been completely lost and trampled underfoot by the newer styles is not lost on me.  I imagine that once, these newer ways were truly underground and inspirational, and probably hassled and frowned upon by the literati.  Now?  It's all that's left. 

___


I dreamt that I was carrying a sort of office chair down the side of a hilly highway, for many, many miles.  I am not sure where I was coming from, or where I was going. 

I passed by a movie theatre that was part of a shopping mall.  I saw you there, waiting in line to see something, ticket in hand.  You seemed like you were going alone because out of all the groups of people, you weren't with anyone.  I tried to head over and say hello, but before I got there, your line moved and you went inside.

I wandered around with my chair a bit more.  I stashed it somewhere so I could come back for it later, and I went into the mall.  I suppose that carting office chairs cross-country is hard work, so maybe the AC would be good.

As I am prone to do when I find myself in a shopping environment, I ended up inside the book store.  I wandered about in there, wishing that I had thousands of dollars to spend on books (as usual).  After a while, I saw you again, standing at a shelf, and flipping through a book. 

I walked over, again to say hi, but I lost my nerve.  I guess I'm even way too shy in my dreams.  I sort of just stood near you, looking at some books, trying to muster the courage to say something, and hoping that you would notice me and say something first instead.

You did.  We started talking a lot, and ended up leaving the bookstore, and then the mall.  We went to some secluded and creepy run down place out in the country, in the middle of nowhere.  We sat and talked for hours on end, all through the night, never tiring or having awkward moments.  It was really nice, and I enjoyed your dream company quite a bit.

Eventually, the sun came up and you had to go.  You drove a sort of awesome jeep thing that was very post apocalyptic and looked like it would be perfect for the zombie invasion.  You had somewhere to be, and I had somewhere to be, and that was that.

___

poisonedgrace: (Default)


Poets can die in a fire.  Seriously.  Line us up.  Shoot us dead.  We've had enough.  The world has moved on, and we have not.  Dead art forms suck, especially the ones that will never, EVER make you any money, or even earn you a slight sliver of respect.  It's worse when you're even derided for it.  This is something we do because we have to, not because we want to.  But it seems hopeless if you want to do anything more with it.  We can not exist as mere writers anymore.  It is apparently required that you become a performer

Ideally you'd better know how to play music.  You'd better have a guitar if you want to do anything with your poetry.  And those of us (like myself, for instance) who have a deformity of the hands that prevent us from guitar?  Welcome to being instantly invalidated as an artist.  I'm not sure that even 'normal' hands would help because some of us just aren't really interested in (nor do we have an understanding of) music to speak of.  That's great if that's what you do, but it's complete bullshit that it's somehow become one of the requirements or worse, a life-support system of poetry.

Not only has pop culture killed poetry, while industry held it down, but poetry has gone a long way toward killing itself.  Slam Poetry is the devil.  There, I said it.  AND WHAT?  We can take it straight the fuck outside.  If I wanted to compete in sports, I would have been on the football team.  If poetry were supposed to be a team event, then Shakespeare would have had a big number on his back, and a brewing company logo on his front. 

Again, that's fine and dandy if that's what you're into.  But it's sick and wrong that it's all that's left.  It's sick that the literary value of a literary work has taken a distant loss to the delivery mechanism.  It's wrong that the notion of winning is a neck and head above the idea of creating.

How do you truly judge a poem of all things based on how it is spoken aloud or performed?  Granted he is absolutely not one of my favourite poets in any way, shape or form (I sort of even dislike him, truth be told) but can you imagine how on earth you could properly perform a poem by celelbrated poet e.e. cummings?  Half of his impact in many of his poems were from the careful and artful arrangement of the characters and blank spaces on the page.

Not only does Slam limit itself, but it creates its own style.  You're hard pressed to do well in the scene (as if you'd want to?) while all together distancing yourself from any sort of hip-hop / dub style delivery.  Because guess what?  The guy behind you?  Yeah, the one with the beard there?  He's about to drop a hip-hop style political poem.  So congratulations, Baudelaire!  You lose!  No, it does not matter if you are the father of more movements in poetry than anyone in this room has ever heard of.  No, it does not matter that you revoloutionized the art form.  What matters is that, in spite of being a literary genius, you had no real sense of music.  Because that's what sells here in this sporting event & popularity contest, and while you're "OK on paper", your performance just wasn't  "in line with the currently accepted favourites".

You'd better be able to beatbox if you want to do anything with your poetry.  And those of us (like myself, for instance) who still have no real desire to create music?  Well, awesome, you get to continue being invalidated as an artist.  Because what's any of it worth with out a hook?  Apparently nothing.  Dance, monkey.  If you can't perform, then nobody cares.

Sports, music...  Rubbish all.  Either way, it's no longer about writing, and hasn't been for too damn long.  It's about performing.  And can you seriously imagine Baudelaire, Rimbaud, E. A. Poe, Tennyson, or P.B. Shelley up there performing one of their poems?  Honestly, the notion is absurd!  Not to mention that Rimbaud would end by urinating on someones poems (and / or hat) then end up being beaten unconscious in the back alley behind the coffee shop!

Don't get me wrong, there are some people involved with Sports Poetry whom I enjoy the work of.  I think Buddy Wakefield is genuinely amazing, for instance.  But I can't help but wonder what sort of things some of my favourites would be producing if the entire system of doing things were to abandon all requirements of music and Def Poetry Stylings(tm).  Options are great.  Requirements are crap.

But the rest of us?  Line us up!  March us out!  Shoot us dead!  We struggle along in a world where what we produce is just a laughing stock.  Unseen, unheard and quite often insulted, degraded and belittled, even by other 'artists' and 'writers'.

The irony of the idea that these old ways of this style of classic literature have been completely lost and trampled underfoot by the newer styles is not lost on me.  I imagine that once, these newer ways were truly underground and inspirational, and probably hassled and frowned upon by the literati.  Now?  It's all that's left. 

___


I dreamt that I was carrying a sort of office chair down the side of a hilly highway, for many, many miles.  I am not sure where I was coming from, or where I was going. 

I passed by a movie theatre that was part of a shopping mall.  I saw you there, waiting in line to see something, ticket in hand.  You seemed like you were going alone because out of all the groups of people, you weren't with anyone.  I tried to head over and say hello, but before I got there, your line moved and you went inside.

I wandered around with my chair a bit more.  I stashed it somewhere so I could come back for it later, and I went into the mall.  I suppose that carting office chairs cross-country is hard work, so maybe the AC would be good.

As I am prone to do when I find myself in a shopping environment, I ended up inside the book store.  I wandered about in there, wishing that I had thousands of dollars to spend on books (as usual).  After a while, I saw you again, standing at a shelf, and flipping through a book. 

I walked over, again to say hi, but I lost my nerve.  I guess I'm even way too shy in my dreams.  I sort of just stood near you, looking at some books, trying to muster the courage to say something, and hoping that you would notice me and say something first instead.

You did.  We started talking a lot, and ended up leaving the bookstore, and then the mall.  We went to some secluded and creepy run down place out in the country, in the middle of nowhere.  We sat and talked for hours on end, all through the night, never tiring or having awkward moments.  It was really nice, and I enjoyed your dream company quite a bit.

Eventually, the sun came up and you had to go.  You drove a sort of awesome jeep thing that was very post apocalyptic and looked like it would be perfect for the zombie invasion.  You had somewhere to be, and I had somewhere to be, and that was that.

___

poisonedgrace: (alone)


        All things come to pass.  Sometimes you can see them coming from afar like a mountain on the horizon.  Other times, they come suddenly like a deep hole in the trail at night.  Most people are never even ready when they finally get to the mountains, much less for the unexpected.

We'll keep this on our own terms.  You all should know what and whom I am talking about here.

Unfortunately, we seem to live in a culture of "guilty until proven innocent".  We mostly secretly know, and very sadly, have grown to accept that.  It gets worse.  After having culturally accepted that dirty secret, we slid into an even worse thing.  The new secret is "once accused, never truly innocent, even after it has been proven".  That's the one no-one wants to talk about these days.  Guilt is weighed by opinion, "lulz", and the media.  'Fact' dropped out of the race a while back.  Apparently, much like 'Truth', he was old, tired and no longer needed for modern society.

All it EVER takes is being thought guilty of being "different" or "weird".  That's enough to make you guilty of any and everything that anyone decides to henceforth accuse you of.  Maybe it's obvious that it's just another Highschool Jock calling you a 'faggot', but hey!  You have green hair, so It has to be true, right?  Maybe it's just some tired shitty old american family trying to hustle money out of you because they think that you're an easy mark and have millions to spare?  Well, whatever they say must be right, because AGAIN with the weird!

One of the truly sad things is that a lot of you out there who get in on the whole Witch Hunt mentality have also been victimized by it.  Did you like it when the High School Jocks called you a faggot?  Did you enjoy being called a Dope Head because your hair was too long?  Because your hair was the wrong colour?  Maybe you moved there from another country.  Maybe you were the only girl there wearing all black.  Maybe you were an overweight kid.  Did you enjoy being persecuted because your skin was the wrong colour?  Maybe you played D&D or read Star Wars books.  Maybe your family didn't have as much money as most everyone else and you didn't have decent clothes or lunch money.  What if you just didn't somehow fit into the 'normal' sexual niche or gender role?  Does that justify being abused and slandered?  Did you get beat up over any of it?  Purposefully hit by a car?  Threatened with deadly weapons on a daily basis?  Because I did.  All those things.

Being Different or Weird can happen in a whole variety of ways.  From how we look, to simple things about how we act, our personalities, it's just who we ARE.  Unless you were a huge fan of having it done to you, and think persecuting and demeaning people is upstanding and correct, then why on earth would you turn around and do it to others?  Do you really think that just because a girl has blue hair that she's a drugged up slut? 

Just going with the flow?  The choice of champions, right there!  Don't you see that 'the flow' is just one fucking hateful High School Jock point a finger, and everyone else being afraid that they're next, so they point too?
Even if you are 'normal' what if it were your very own daughter?  Your sister or little brother?  Do you think they deserve the judgement, wrath and scorn of the world at large, even though they have never been proven guilty of any wrongdoing at all?

It's bad enough to buy into that bullshit while someone is alive, feeding into a situation that can rob someone of their sanity, but to continue it or even ramp it up in the case of their demise?  Well aren't you just a really great person?

I've been called 'faggot' and 'stoner' and a million other names hundreds of thousands of times in my life, by hundreds of different people.  I've been called a lot worse.  I've had a lot worse done to me.  I've been in the grocery store shopping for food and had mothers actually put their hand over their childrens eyes when I walked past.  Instilling their judgemental evil in their spawn (ant ehey think that I am the monster in that situation?).  All because I was 'weird' or 'different'.  It has been enough people in my life to make a general concensus.  So does that make it true?  Am I those things because enough people believed it?  None of these accusations were ever proven.  But it didn't matter.  Sound familiar?  Which side of this cultural issue are you on anyhow?  Are you making it better or worse?  Are you taking a stance to debunk and improve it?

I think I have my line drawn firmly.  Just go ahead and get out of my life and don't wave goodbye if you're on the other side of it.  I do not need or want anything to do with you if you're one of them.

Also, Joseph McCarthy called.  He wanted to tell you that Goody Proctor is a witch!
But it's ok because Great American Hero, Cotton Mather is meeting you after tonights Football Game.  You can all head out and burn some crosses in weirdos lawns across the nation.

Or maybe if you want to really pretend to give a shit about things, why don't you instead harass people who have actually been PROVEN criminals.  People who are guilty of more than being Different.  People whom you can actually observe to do terrible things.  Trust me, there are plenty of people out there fitting the bill.  Maybe it's just easier to take the lowest denominator rather than stand up for justice, huh?  Because all this shit I am writing about?  You are no better than the 'God Hates Fags' people. 



And then there's you.  This whole thing... I've seen it my whole life, written about it before, but this time, it's for you.  Well...  You were a rare one.  Much like me, you simply were not from here.  You were also looking for Home.  You taught me something important.  Many many years ago.  I have never forgotten it.  You taught me that no amount of money can buy Home.  No amount of fame of 'mainstream success / acceptance' can earn you Home.  We'll always be Weird and Different.  We'll always be Searching.  You also taught me, through your errors, that maybe somehow, the answer can be found in Love.  In letting people inside, in spite of the pain and fear.  I think that's one thing you never managed to be able to do.  Thank you for sharing what you had with us while you could.

I'm sorry that the Witch Hunt made you crazy(/er).
I hope you're Home now.




poisonedgrace: (alone)


        All things come to pass.  Sometimes you can see them coming from afar like a mountain on the horizon.  Other times, they come suddenly like a deep hole in the trail at night.  Most people are never even ready when they finally get to the mountains, much less for the unexpected.

We'll keep this on our own terms.  You all should know what and whom I am talking about here.

Unfortunately, we seem to live in a culture of "guilty until proven innocent".  We mostly secretly know, and very sadly, have grown to accept that.  It gets worse.  After having culturally accepted that dirty secret, we slid into an even worse thing.  The new secret is "once accused, never truly innocent, even after it has been proven".  That's the one no-one wants to talk about these days.  Guilt is weighed by opinion, "lulz", and the media.  'Fact' dropped out of the race a while back.  Apparently, much like 'Truth', he was old, tired and no longer needed for modern society.

All it EVER takes is being thought guilty of being "different" or "weird".  That's enough to make you guilty of any and everything that anyone decides to henceforth accuse you of.  Maybe it's obvious that it's just another Highschool Jock calling you a 'faggot', but hey!  You have green hair, so It has to be true, right?  Maybe it's just some tired shitty old american family trying to hustle money out of you because they think that you're an easy mark and have millions to spare?  Well, whatever they say must be right, because AGAIN with the weird!

One of the truly sad things is that a lot of you out there who get in on the whole Witch Hunt mentality have also been victimized by it.  Did you like it when the High School Jocks called you a faggot?  Did you enjoy being called a Dope Head because your hair was too long?  Because your hair was the wrong colour?  Maybe you moved there from another country.  Maybe you were the only girl there wearing all black.  Maybe you were an overweight kid.  Did you enjoy being persecuted because your skin was the wrong colour?  Maybe you played D&D or read Star Wars books.  Maybe your family didn't have as much money as most everyone else and you didn't have decent clothes or lunch money.  What if you just didn't somehow fit into the 'normal' sexual niche or gender role?  Does that justify being abused and slandered?  Did you get beat up over any of it?  Purposefully hit by a car?  Threatened with deadly weapons on a daily basis?  Because I did.  All those things.

Being Different or Weird can happen in a whole variety of ways.  From how we look, to simple things about how we act, our personalities, it's just who we ARE.  Unless you were a huge fan of having it done to you, and think persecuting and demeaning people is upstanding and correct, then why on earth would you turn around and do it to others?  Do you really think that just because a girl has blue hair that she's a drugged up slut? 

Just going with the flow?  The choice of champions, right there!  Don't you see that 'the flow' is just one fucking hateful High School Jock point a finger, and everyone else being afraid that they're next, so they point too?
Even if you are 'normal' what if it were your very own daughter?  Your sister or little brother?  Do you think they deserve the judgement, wrath and scorn of the world at large, even though they have never been proven guilty of any wrongdoing at all?

It's bad enough to buy into that bullshit while someone is alive, feeding into a situation that can rob someone of their sanity, but to continue it or even ramp it up in the case of their demise?  Well aren't you just a really great person?

I've been called 'faggot' and 'stoner' and a million other names hundreds of thousands of times in my life, by hundreds of different people.  I've been called a lot worse.  I've had a lot worse done to me.  I've been in the grocery store shopping for food and had mothers actually put their hand over their childrens eyes when I walked past.  Instilling their judgemental evil in their spawn (ant ehey think that I am the monster in that situation?).  All because I was 'weird' or 'different'.  It has been enough people in my life to make a general concensus.  So does that make it true?  Am I those things because enough people believed it?  None of these accusations were ever proven.  But it didn't matter.  Sound familiar?  Which side of this cultural issue are you on anyhow?  Are you making it better or worse?  Are you taking a stance to debunk and improve it?

I think I have my line drawn firmly.  Just go ahead and get out of my life and don't wave goodbye if you're on the other side of it.  I do not need or want anything to do with you if you're one of them.

Also, Joseph McCarthy called.  He wanted to tell you that Goody Proctor is a witch!
But it's ok because Great American Hero, Cotton Mather is meeting you after tonights Football Game.  You can all head out and burn some crosses in weirdos lawns across the nation.

Or maybe if you want to really pretend to give a shit about things, why don't you instead harass people who have actually been PROVEN criminals.  People who are guilty of more than being Different.  People whom you can actually observe to do terrible things.  Trust me, there are plenty of people out there fitting the bill.  Maybe it's just easier to take the lowest denominator rather than stand up for justice, huh?  Because all this shit I am writing about?  You are no better than the 'God Hates Fags' people. 



And then there's you.  This whole thing... I've seen it my whole life, written about it before, but this time, it's for you.  Well...  You were a rare one.  Much like me, you simply were not from here.  You were also looking for Home.  You taught me something important.  Many many years ago.  I have never forgotten it.  You taught me that no amount of money can buy Home.  No amount of fame of 'mainstream success / acceptance' can earn you Home.  We'll always be Weird and Different.  We'll always be Searching.  You also taught me, through your errors, that maybe somehow, the answer can be found in Love.  In letting people inside, in spite of the pain and fear.  I think that's one thing you never managed to be able to do.  Thank you for sharing what you had with us while you could.

I'm sorry that the Witch Hunt made you crazy(/er).
I hope you're Home now.




poisonedgrace: (Default)
I've been giving this more thought than usual for the past few days.  I guess that's why, after years of knowing it, I'm finally going to write it out a bit.  It's a conversation I've already had with some of you, so sorry to show my old hat here.   :P

I'm going to keep it short and simple, becaus really... it is.

I've talked to a lot of people about their whole 'social anxiety' thing.  Because it's similar to my issue.
Similar, but fundamentally different.

They have the same crippling inability to go places and do things sometimes.
So we can identify on that level.
I think the similarities might stop there though.

They tell me how they just feel overwhelmed with public places and social interaction.  That they are terrified of what people (including their own friends in some cases) are thinking about them.  So much so that they just can not force themselves to get out of the car, or to leave the house, or whatever.

For me it's not like that.
I never worry what my friends might think.  I know that they care about me and that they won't think poorly of me.  I trust them.  I would not consider them friends otherwise.  People whom I consider friends or compatriots are completely immune from all of my troubling worries and issues.  I love you guys, and I don't worry for an instant that you guys will think ill of me.  You wouldnt consider me a friend if you didn't care.

I do not worry what strangers might think.  I do not care.  If I cared about that, then I would try to disguise myself and fit in and live THEIR lives and moralities, not my own.  I can never feel worry or sadness for what they might think.

I already know what they think.  I accept it.

What happens with me, is not really a fear or anxiety (in this sense) at all.  What happens with me is a deep and terrible revulsion.  I start to feel a sense of sickness and loathing at the general state of the world around me.  I feel the way someone good and noble would feel if they had to walk through a slaughterhouse where human babies were butchered and prepared as food items.  Baby Sausages.  Baby Cured Ham.  That sort of thing.

I feel like I want to tear everything in my surroundings to shreads with my bare hands.  Like I want to claw and bite and rip the flesh from screaming bones with my teeth.  Like whatever I cant knock to splinters by kicking it and dashing my body into it I will lay low with machines of fire and destruction.

Where my anxiety comes from...
Is my fear that 'this time' I will not be able to keep a lid on that boiling pot.

That 'this time' I might fail at playing nicely by the rules.

I am not afraid OF strangers and society.

I am afraid FOR them.



I guess I havent really tried to explain it to many people.  Not many I know well enough.
I'm going to post this before I back out of it, so forgive any spelling errors etc.  If I re-read it I might bail on the process.
poisonedgrace: (Default)
I've been giving this more thought than usual for the past few days.  I guess that's why, after years of knowing it, I'm finally going to write it out a bit.  It's a conversation I've already had with some of you, so sorry to show my old hat here.   :P

I'm going to keep it short and simple, becaus really... it is.

I've talked to a lot of people about their whole 'social anxiety' thing.  Because it's similar to my issue.
Similar, but fundamentally different.

They have the same crippling inability to go places and do things sometimes.
So we can identify on that level.
I think the similarities might stop there though.

They tell me how they just feel overwhelmed with public places and social interaction.  That they are terrified of what people (including their own friends in some cases) are thinking about them.  So much so that they just can not force themselves to get out of the car, or to leave the house, or whatever.

For me it's not like that.
I never worry what my friends might think.  I know that they care about me and that they won't think poorly of me.  I trust them.  I would not consider them friends otherwise.  People whom I consider friends or compatriots are completely immune from all of my troubling worries and issues.  I love you guys, and I don't worry for an instant that you guys will think ill of me.  You wouldnt consider me a friend if you didn't care.

I do not worry what strangers might think.  I do not care.  If I cared about that, then I would try to disguise myself and fit in and live THEIR lives and moralities, not my own.  I can never feel worry or sadness for what they might think.

I already know what they think.  I accept it.

What happens with me, is not really a fear or anxiety (in this sense) at all.  What happens with me is a deep and terrible revulsion.  I start to feel a sense of sickness and loathing at the general state of the world around me.  I feel the way someone good and noble would feel if they had to walk through a slaughterhouse where human babies were butchered and prepared as food items.  Baby Sausages.  Baby Cured Ham.  That sort of thing.

I feel like I want to tear everything in my surroundings to shreads with my bare hands.  Like I want to claw and bite and rip the flesh from screaming bones with my teeth.  Like whatever I cant knock to splinters by kicking it and dashing my body into it I will lay low with machines of fire and destruction.

Where my anxiety comes from...
Is my fear that 'this time' I will not be able to keep a lid on that boiling pot.

That 'this time' I might fail at playing nicely by the rules.

I am not afraid OF strangers and society.

I am afraid FOR them.



I guess I havent really tried to explain it to many people.  Not many I know well enough.
I'm going to post this before I back out of it, so forgive any spelling errors etc.  If I re-read it I might bail on the process.
poisonedgrace: (Default)
I don't remember what I was planning to write in here when I opened the window, but now I'm going to write about something messed up that just happened to me.

I was checking my email, on my yahoo mail that I always use.

I noticed a little window where it was like if you also have yahoo IM, it logs you into a little 'virtual Y.IM' thingy and gives you a little buddy list of who is online right there in your inbox.

I thought it was kinda cool.  Sent a message to test it and see how it worked, and it it had settings and options and stuff.

Thought it might be kinda nifty cause I do not have yahoo IM at work.

So while I still had the chat window thing open, I got an IM from my lifelong friend Joanne.
She asked me if I saw that recent Oprah episode on weight loss.  She said she had found the same 'goodies' they were talking about for only 5 dollars on some web site, and she provided a link.  She also told me that she had already lost NINE pounds.

I read it...  Read it again...  and thought to myself "She knows damned good and well that I have never, once in my life, seen a single episode of Oprah, and there is NO way she would ask me if I had."  Hell, I'd be shocked if she has seen more than a few episodes of Oprah herself.  I replied to the message saying something to that effect.

She didn't answer in like 30 seconds and I'm impatient, and I was suspicious by this time, so I texted her, asking her if she just sent me a message about Oprah etc.

She said no, she had no idea what I was talking about, probably assuming that I had finally gone over the edge.  I swear everyone who has known me for enough years is just waiting for the eventual Kaboom, baby.

I told her in detail what had happened, and it was the first she had heard about it.

So, I would guess it's one of only several possible options that I can think of..
1. Some spammers out there somewhere have a way of spoofing people's yahoo IDs and sending out messages.  Weather this only works on the virtual or on the real one as well, who knows.

2. Someone hacked her account and is making with the spam.

3. Yahoo themselves is trying out some REALLY fucking unethical (imo) business practices. 

If it's number 3, that's sooooo fucked up.  Fucking trying to sell me (didn't click the link, so I am assuming here) some sort of diet pills (those can be very dangerous) based on my belief that an actual friend uses, endorses them and thinks they might be right for me?  That's a hot mess right there.  Not only for that reason, but think of the drama it could potentially cause.

As a funny and silly example, what if I actually had a girlfriend, right? (I know, I know, you'll have to use a LOT of imagination to pull this one off, but I believe in you)  And what if Yahoo sends me a fake IM from her advertizing those fucking male enhancement pills I get constant spam email over?  Yeah, I might not feel too great about that, eh?  I might even get an attitude with her over thinking that she chose to address an issue like that in such a way.  Of course she'd deny doing it (and honestly so since she didn't DO it!) which could piss me off and cause a larger issue.

Now, of course, I'm too bright to fall into this above scenario, since I AM the Handsome Detective Hero in this tale.
But we all know some volitile ass people who think with their mouth first, and are slightly more than clueless about computer related shenanigans in addition to being dramatic and easilly butt-hurt over such 'sensitive' issues.

It really creeps me out if they're actually trying to use people's friends to sell them some spam bullshit.

She's going to change her password, just in case of number 2.

I found a way to sign completely out of that virtual IM thing, and I will not sign back in to it or allow it to be open.

If anyone gets some busted ass message from me, be aware that it wasn't me.  Unless it was.  But I won't try to sell you any pills or any Russian mail order brides or anything.

Speaking of those Russian mail order brides...
Maybe I should get me one of those.
;)
poisonedgrace: (Default)
I don't remember what I was planning to write in here when I opened the window, but now I'm going to write about something messed up that just happened to me.

I was checking my email, on my yahoo mail that I always use.

I noticed a little window where it was like if you also have yahoo IM, it logs you into a little 'virtual Y.IM' thingy and gives you a little buddy list of who is online right there in your inbox.

I thought it was kinda cool.  Sent a message to test it and see how it worked, and it it had settings and options and stuff.

Thought it might be kinda nifty cause I do not have yahoo IM at work.

So while I still had the chat window thing open, I got an IM from my lifelong friend Joanne.
She asked me if I saw that recent Oprah episode on weight loss.  She said she had found the same 'goodies' they were talking about for only 5 dollars on some web site, and she provided a link.  She also told me that she had already lost NINE pounds.

I read it...  Read it again...  and thought to myself "She knows damned good and well that I have never, once in my life, seen a single episode of Oprah, and there is NO way she would ask me if I had."  Hell, I'd be shocked if she has seen more than a few episodes of Oprah herself.  I replied to the message saying something to that effect.

She didn't answer in like 30 seconds and I'm impatient, and I was suspicious by this time, so I texted her, asking her if she just sent me a message about Oprah etc.

She said no, she had no idea what I was talking about, probably assuming that I had finally gone over the edge.  I swear everyone who has known me for enough years is just waiting for the eventual Kaboom, baby.

I told her in detail what had happened, and it was the first she had heard about it.

So, I would guess it's one of only several possible options that I can think of..
1. Some spammers out there somewhere have a way of spoofing people's yahoo IDs and sending out messages.  Weather this only works on the virtual or on the real one as well, who knows.

2. Someone hacked her account and is making with the spam.

3. Yahoo themselves is trying out some REALLY fucking unethical (imo) business practices. 

If it's number 3, that's sooooo fucked up.  Fucking trying to sell me (didn't click the link, so I am assuming here) some sort of diet pills (those can be very dangerous) based on my belief that an actual friend uses, endorses them and thinks they might be right for me?  That's a hot mess right there.  Not only for that reason, but think of the drama it could potentially cause.

As a funny and silly example, what if I actually had a girlfriend, right? (I know, I know, you'll have to use a LOT of imagination to pull this one off, but I believe in you)  And what if Yahoo sends me a fake IM from her advertizing those fucking male enhancement pills I get constant spam email over?  Yeah, I might not feel too great about that, eh?  I might even get an attitude with her over thinking that she chose to address an issue like that in such a way.  Of course she'd deny doing it (and honestly so since she didn't DO it!) which could piss me off and cause a larger issue.

Now, of course, I'm too bright to fall into this above scenario, since I AM the Handsome Detective Hero in this tale.
But we all know some volitile ass people who think with their mouth first, and are slightly more than clueless about computer related shenanigans in addition to being dramatic and easilly butt-hurt over such 'sensitive' issues.

It really creeps me out if they're actually trying to use people's friends to sell them some spam bullshit.

She's going to change her password, just in case of number 2.

I found a way to sign completely out of that virtual IM thing, and I will not sign back in to it or allow it to be open.

If anyone gets some busted ass message from me, be aware that it wasn't me.  Unless it was.  But I won't try to sell you any pills or any Russian mail order brides or anything.

Speaking of those Russian mail order brides...
Maybe I should get me one of those.
;)
poisonedgrace: (oh noes)



People on craigslist have apparently never fucking heard of ebay.  Seriously, why the hell would someone meet some random jerk in a parking lot (or heaven forbid, their house) or whatever to pay twice the amount for the same thing you can get on ebay, from someone with 99.9% positive feedback and 100K sales?

Anything I have recently looked at on ebay, I have compared to craigslist, and across the board, these people are charging 2 and 3 times more.  They try to sell used video games for MORE than big chain stores like Game Stop.

No thanks, random jerk.  I'll go for the 1/4th priced one that comes with an exchange policy, thanks anyhow.  As rare a happening as it might be, you also have the 'craigslist mugging' factor to consider and be wary of.  You know the one... "meet here and trade goods / money, only oh no! we has no goods, but gimme all yer money or I cut ya!" ?  You know, that one?  Yeah. 
:/

Also, WTF about people selling shit on there for MORE than a new one costs NEW retail?  Do people really go to Walmart or Target and go "Fuck paying 399.99 for a new xbox360 elite!  I can get a used on craigslist for 475.00!"  I shit you not, I SAW that listing recently.  Hell, I saw a number of them.  Ebay had some used ones for the 220 and up price ranges.  Granted there were some idiots on ebay selling new ones for 500.00, which boggles the shit out of me as well.  Even if you live somewhere in this country where you don't have a walmart, or whatever (is that even possible now?) if you have the fucking internet to use craigslist or ebay, you can go to fucking target dot com and get that same shit.  Amazon has free shipping 1/2 the time you assjuice eating inbred fucktools!

I truly can not understand it at ALL.  I know that shit varies from any day to the next, and maybe last week was just Craigslist Official Idiot Week, but damn.  I was reminded why I never bother to look on there. 

Speaking of such nonsense, who all has an xbox 360?  If so, do you have xbox live?  What's your gamertag on there?  What do you think of the service?  Do you like me?  Circle one: Yes No

If you don't wanna share your gamer ID thing with the whole world, feel free to send it along privately.  I've become very interested in that whole service and I am curious what other people think.

I am SO sleepy today.  I didn't miss out on too much sleep last night, so I'm not really sure why.

poisonedgrace: (oh noes)



People on craigslist have apparently never fucking heard of ebay.  Seriously, why the hell would someone meet some random jerk in a parking lot (or heaven forbid, their house) or whatever to pay twice the amount for the same thing you can get on ebay, from someone with 99.9% positive feedback and 100K sales?

Anything I have recently looked at on ebay, I have compared to craigslist, and across the board, these people are charging 2 and 3 times more.  They try to sell used video games for MORE than big chain stores like Game Stop.

No thanks, random jerk.  I'll go for the 1/4th priced one that comes with an exchange policy, thanks anyhow.  As rare a happening as it might be, you also have the 'craigslist mugging' factor to consider and be wary of.  You know the one... "meet here and trade goods / money, only oh no! we has no goods, but gimme all yer money or I cut ya!" ?  You know, that one?  Yeah. 
:/

Also, WTF about people selling shit on there for MORE than a new one costs NEW retail?  Do people really go to Walmart or Target and go "Fuck paying 399.99 for a new xbox360 elite!  I can get a used on craigslist for 475.00!"  I shit you not, I SAW that listing recently.  Hell, I saw a number of them.  Ebay had some used ones for the 220 and up price ranges.  Granted there were some idiots on ebay selling new ones for 500.00, which boggles the shit out of me as well.  Even if you live somewhere in this country where you don't have a walmart, or whatever (is that even possible now?) if you have the fucking internet to use craigslist or ebay, you can go to fucking target dot com and get that same shit.  Amazon has free shipping 1/2 the time you assjuice eating inbred fucktools!

I truly can not understand it at ALL.  I know that shit varies from any day to the next, and maybe last week was just Craigslist Official Idiot Week, but damn.  I was reminded why I never bother to look on there. 

Speaking of such nonsense, who all has an xbox 360?  If so, do you have xbox live?  What's your gamertag on there?  What do you think of the service?  Do you like me?  Circle one: Yes No

If you don't wanna share your gamer ID thing with the whole world, feel free to send it along privately.  I've become very interested in that whole service and I am curious what other people think.

I am SO sleepy today.  I didn't miss out on too much sleep last night, so I'm not really sure why.

poisonedgrace: (</3)

This is about what I expected.  It echos on an endless loop.  It showcases all the failings and shortcomings of the world like a burning spot-light. This, is why we can't have nice things.  I will never understand it.  This is your world!  Your species alone has the power to make it into anything you want.  To mold your surroundings, to create any consensual reality that you desire.  I don't even mean little pocket realities or happy bubbles that anyone can make, I'm talking about the very Way Of Things.

Then why do you keep choosing the most base things you possibly can?  Why, when offered the choice of soul-stirring magical joy, wonder and beauty do you consistantly instead choose a man standing in a pool of his own filthy excess and vice shouting "Ungh! Ungh! Yeah! Ungh!"  Those are not even words!  No other creatures at any other time in the history of this world have ever stood on such a brink between salvation and destruction.  Why do you all run or hide like sheep?!  Do you desire to fail?  You should be able to find these things for yourselves because the world is full of beauty, wonder, wisdom and perfection.  But you don't.  Then form small and dedicated groups, or even lone wandering lunatics, who are intent on helping you see.  Still you won't look.  Vice, crime, abuse, greed...  I see people constantly falling over themselves to get in line for more and more of those things, but they either suddenly turn completely blind or run for the shelters when faced with nobility, wonder or rapture.

I think I could go on about this for hours, but it's just... just fucking feeding the wrong dog, isn't it?
I truly do not understand this place!
</3

poisonedgrace: (</3)

This is about what I expected.  It echos on an endless loop.  It showcases all the failings and shortcomings of the world like a burning spot-light. This, is why we can't have nice things.  I will never understand it.  This is your world!  Your species alone has the power to make it into anything you want.  To mold your surroundings, to create any consensual reality that you desire.  I don't even mean little pocket realities or happy bubbles that anyone can make, I'm talking about the very Way Of Things.

Then why do you keep choosing the most base things you possibly can?  Why, when offered the choice of soul-stirring magical joy, wonder and beauty do you consistantly instead choose a man standing in a pool of his own filthy excess and vice shouting "Ungh! Ungh! Yeah! Ungh!"  Those are not even words!  No other creatures at any other time in the history of this world have ever stood on such a brink between salvation and destruction.  Why do you all run or hide like sheep?!  Do you desire to fail?  You should be able to find these things for yourselves because the world is full of beauty, wonder, wisdom and perfection.  But you don't.  Then form small and dedicated groups, or even lone wandering lunatics, who are intent on helping you see.  Still you won't look.  Vice, crime, abuse, greed...  I see people constantly falling over themselves to get in line for more and more of those things, but they either suddenly turn completely blind or run for the shelters when faced with nobility, wonder or rapture.

I think I could go on about this for hours, but it's just... just fucking feeding the wrong dog, isn't it?
I truly do not understand this place!
</3

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