I have a stalker

It is not Gail. or any of the craigslist trannys/guys. i don't think. Well, I wouldn't be surprised if it was someone from craigslist who stalked me over to the park to abduct me. ok i'd be a little surprised.

anyway.
I was working with my new test (yuck) group (yay!) and we were filming in the park. one thing led to another and we were invited to a party.

a very sketch party.
Danielle and I went. What a bunch of creeps and weirdos, in addition to some really cool people. but sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. especially if you've had a few drinks in you. and especially when you are in a hightened social situation in which you are blinded by certain things - Kath was telling me about this psychological thing.

we didn't mean to stay as long as we did. we planned on just popping in before our movie. but we both loved the attention we were getting. and we were too drunk to drive. and i am not stupid enough to drive drunk.

well it was in the course of the evening that I got my stalker.

he who has sent me numerous texts that i have not responded to. and he who has now started to call me to which i will not answer my phone. dude, if i don't answer your texts, back off. do not try and call.

here is an example of what his voice mail to me sounded like -

http://melodymaker.posterous.com/the-reason-some-girls-stay-single-very-funny

right now i need to send him a very direct text. though i am low on my texts for the month and i would prefer to just avoid him. and i know he will text back. ps he is a reason why i am low on my texts - the tool. and if anyone wants to read them i have kept them in my phone for the sake of good stories. and i think i still have the v mail.

The Executioner's Wife

this is legit so beautiful




The Executioner’s Wife

With a low, “THUD,” the executioner’s axe hit the hardwood surface beneath the once continuous neck of his victim. The blade of the axe made yet another scar in the wood which the blood almost instantly investigated, just as it did after every formation of a new scar. The executioner watched as the blood sprayed from the neck of his victim onto his axe and flow down onto the wood. He lifted his axe from the wood with force and wiped it off, ending his day with only one decapitation.

Mary chopped potatoes with her small stiletto and added them to the cast iron cauldron of stew. Her husband, the executioner, would be home shortly and she was preparing dinner. After adding her ingredients, she sat back down and began her embroidery. She effortlessly wove the needle in and out of the fine fabric, and almost immediately created beauty from nil.

The executioner walked through the door and placed his axe next to the door, and Mary, slightly startled, stood up quickly and dropped her needlework onto the floor. She bent her head down, left the fabric, and greeted her husband with an embrace. Her soft and sensitive hands passed over his strong and dense muscles. His thick arms easily but reluctantly surrounded his wife. They released and he sat at the table. She served the stew, sat at the table, and they enjoyed dinner and conversation with one another.

After finishing dinner, they retired to their bedroom. Mary reached the bed first and lay on her back; her husband climbed on top of her as he always did. He began rhythmically thrusting, as deep as he could go, as shallow as he could go. Mary felt some pain but nowhere near as much as the first weeks of their marriage. Earlier in the marriage she recalled watching a stallion mounting a mare and thrusting in the same manner. They finished, and he rolled onto his back. Mary laid her dainty hand on his chest, and she whispered words of passion and love.

The executioner lay numb, he felt confused by the feelings his wife was verbalized. He thought of the man kneeling with his neck exposed and vulnerable. He thought of the day in front of him: three criminals. Mary never heard exactly what her husband thought or even experienced in his day, but before she sliced any potatoes on this day, she attended the public execution. She witnessed the executioner work, and later welcomed him home.

She sat in bed, thinking, imagining the sight she had seen earlier the same day. She slowly crawled from bed after what seemed like hours. The executioner remained still in bed, breathing deeply and heavily. She sat in the chair where she did her needlework with the executioner’s axe in hand. Mary held the axe still between her thighs and with a slow breath slid her tiny wrist along the blade. Her blood poured down from her scars to the axe, then onto her needlework.


i love suicide

I'm coming out

Would I get more followers if I came out of the closet?

I think so.

So,

I'm coming out of the closet.

I'm coming out of the closet as a straight female.

That's right world. I'm straight. whew it feels good to get that off my chest.

Ode to O

Karen O

I want to be her.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6nrWDu7Wgr4&feature=fvw

confidence is sexy. and she's got it.

i really should be working on some sketches for class tomorrow. oh w hell. and yes i meant to write oh w hell. any opportunity to cuss - i take it. it's how i get confidence

how else do i get confidence?
spirits
no, not aunt kath
i mean suckin back some liquor

jk. i can't drink. it's against my quack doctor's rules.