In our mansion there will be many rooms

When Mischa tells me she has to do her paperwork on the weekend, it feels me with such Freudian joy, that is to say it is a direct reminder of my mother. I really haven't even taken that many psychology classes, so my knowledge is random, incomplete, and mostly learned in personal settings, like the living room of my childhood home or my parents' bedroom, where they liked to lecture me about 'no sex before marriage' and 'my body is a temple' etc. As a teenager I was thoroughly annoyed by mom's therapist-talk (especially since she seemed unable to comprehend my normal modes of communication, and still to this day has to "reflect" my statements to verify comprehension, and often reflects incorrectly, and I give up), but after I left home and began attempting to have romantic and sexual relationships, which triggered major major panic and anxiety for me, I started taking some classes and reading a few books. And the rest I suppose I learned off the internet. Anyway, this is so much to say, abnormal psychology and sexuality are linked in my being, and I will never be attracted to normal (boring), healthy people. Of course, they can't be totally busted, or too deep in denial, cause what the fuck can you do with that besides stalk it? So this blog is a visual ode to personality disorders and hotness, and contains a link to an article that my brilliant little Mischa discovered that explores the relationship between borderlines and narcissists:

http://www.apa.org/monitor/mar04/mixing.html

Well the article delves into various parings, but those particular PDs are the two that interest me the most, obviously because I have traits of both and am attracted to both (can't resist the PTSD either). I come out more strongly on the narcissist side, thank fucking God, but I have been on the reverse (not fun), so really this whole subject is way more complicated than I have the energy to write about here, but these pictures should elaborate in the tiniest way, my meaning.


If you read the article you'll see it contains some advice for couples that have paired according to PD traits, but I have my own advice, and I think Dr. Karam concurs. My theory is not to avoid pairing in such powerful combinations, but to work it out in the bedroom. Well, not the bedroom per say. Technically, in an assortment of rooms. If all goes according to plan, someday we will have a mansion with several rooms dedicated to the treatment of various sicknessness, obsessions, and otherwise titillating neurosis. One room will definitely have padded walls, and Mischa will have to spend all night or even all weekend in there if she misbehaves. Or if I (Dr. Stefano), decide it would be good for her. Or even if she begs in the right way. The room will include restraints, syringes full of harmless or healthy medicine, white coats, latex gloves, and so on and so forth, hey use your own imagination! There will be other rooms also, especially a photography room....hmmmm what else?? What do you think Misch? What do you want? Tell me what you want, I'll do it, I'll get it. When you want it to hurt or when you want it to feel good, say so, if you only want it to feel good that's fine too, you see I'm quite flexible.

Die for you, Mischa

Putrifaction

These are pictures of the two paper mills that face each other across the river that is the border between International Falls, U.S., and Canada. The smell is worse than anything I have ever inhaled, worse than mildew, worse than sulfur, bloated tampons, cat shit, really. Maybe it is not objectively worse than those smells, if it was contained in one room or temporary, but it fills the whole sky. It invades your car with the windows closed, you cannot escape it.

Many people in I'Falls and Canada work in the paper mills, and once I tried to write a fiction novel that opened with a father who worked in the American one, but the story turned into me, because the factory worker was getting fired and went home to kill himself, and I happened to have lately been fired and feeling quite low. The story never took off, and mine never do. I simply can't make things up. They have to be real.

So here, these pictures are real (really boring probably) but I want you to see them and imagine the smell and think about ways that you can conserve paper. Because really the putrid smell is one of trees dying, trees that are the most beautiful, common creations left from God and will not be around forever since human beings are determined to use everything up as quickly as possible.

And as you probably noticed, there the river is frozen and there is snow on the ground! Hello I'm in the coldest place in all of the United States! It's exceptionally warm this year though, not twenty below as it has been some years past, but a mild thirty degrees or so..........which brings me to global warming. Basically the earth will not be around much longer, anyone with a brain and paying attention realizes that. But do you also realize how much of the earth is already gone and dead forever? Once it contained and was home to so many species and plants and animals that have been destroyed and can never come back.

And I think it's interesting, the difference in perspective between the living and the dead. I often think how movies are great because they choose a perspective for us. I can't explain this thought yet, but it's something like this: each person is a microcosm (Mischa's favorite word) of the whole picture. Now, if one person dies, hasn't all of reality died really? Except there are survivors, for whom life and earth etc are still real. The future is real to me, and important, since I am still alive. But if I die, nothing is important anymore. What if the most important people and animals have already lived and died? This world, with it's diminishing forests, growing populations and diseases............this is just residue.

Being your slave

........ four hours or so until I hop the A to the air tram to the terminal to the sky across half the country to a car to the highway seven hours or so in the car, is it really that long? Hopefully I'm exaggerating. Leaving the city, leaving my kitties, work, 33rd street, the subway, the noise, the unseasonably warm weather due to global warming, can I ask one question? Why are we at war in Iraq over weapons of mass destruction meanwhile Iran is openly making them? I'm sure everyone already thought of this question but it seems the biggest problem to me. I'm a little worried about nuclear things, I imagine the skin falling off my body instantly and how it would change and ruin everything forever, it would really be the end like Nostradamus or whomever else has been predicting, but maybe some rats would survive.


........Diners are so cozy, aren't they? There's always something edible on the menu. I have a hard time eating. Mischa and I have devised a system where I eat as quickly as possible and she eats as slowly as possible, otherwise I'll throw my plate away and be hungry again in a couple hours. Also, she is going to make a soup, and I very much look forward to consuming the emotion in every bite. (Oh! remember the movie I mentioned with the young and hot Susan Sarandon and lesbian vampires and David Bowie? It's called The Hunger. I love the blonde who bites Susan because I want to be her, but I don't live in an austere, castle type of home or have a grand piano or gowns but I did have a vision of my future abode with Countess Karam..........how about the dining room in the sanctuary of an unused church and we could have family dinners under the giant dying Jesus, imagine the benevolent atmosphere? Of course a bedroom like that is too obvious, but then again I could probably not eat at all under the looming shadow of severely, physically manifested martyrdom.)

SONNET 57
Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu;
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought
Save, where you are how happy you make those.
So true a fool is love that in your will,
Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.






















.........I'm going to miss my hyper little sensi-kitten. but I know she will be a good girl while I'm gone and keep the corset on tightly and only take the leash off for sleeping......and work on the christmas soup........and I will obsess from across the country as much as I can without being antisocial toward my family.

(PS. I have again become addicted to clipping from newspapers and magazines, tiny words and pictures and the saddest articles or the funniest headlines, whatever........I'm going to read and clip now, plus I don't even know why the fucking office is open?? Assholes. I'm receptionist right now and I am trying to convey to each caller both with cold tone of voice, meaningful pauses, and telephatically communicated vibrations, that calling people regarding any business matter on the Friday before the holiday weekend is total bullshit. Only the "little people" like myself are even here. Everyone should just stop calling each other and go home.)

Nature rarer uses yellow

Nature rarer uses yellow
Than another hue;
Saves she all of that for sunsets,--
Prodigal of blue,

Spending scarlet like a woman,
Yellow she affords
Only scantly and selectly,
Like a lover's words.

--Emily Dickenson

Fashion, passion, murder...................

This is one of my manly hands. These are the boots to stomp your face. These jeans are way too big or I lost weight. I'm wearing grandma underwear but you can't see them. I'm in the bathroom as usual, hiding from everything non sexual or boring. I'm wondering about M, what the hell she's doing, pondering a few of her theories. I'm very sleepy and a little bit (green) high still. I've been an imperfect worker this week, but there's always this moment perfectly ripe for change. Last night practice was okay. I was exhuasted and increasingly drunk and the boys seemed about to get into a fight over various things that I stayed out of including the fact that I couldn't hear shit because I didn't care I didn't really want to be heard. Or hear myself. But I sounded like Gwen Stef to myself and I don't think that's good but I hoped anyone else hearing might think it was cute if nothing else, and not horrible, but other people in that studio who hear say they like it. I also realized yesterday that it makes total sense that I wouldn't be an exciting performer since I'm very outwardly calm and deadpan as a rule so why would it change in front of bigger numbers of people? Plus the boys are the same way, so maybe it's fine that's just how we are and the intensity just has to come through the music rather than costumes or dances, or whatever gets people's attention. The show. Well, that's enough for now, I want to see what MK just wrote to me.

Lebanon is for lovers

I DON'T WANT TO BE AT WORK TODAY!!!! IT SUCKS!

I want to still be in bed. With my little missus, who is the most thorough, most seriously intuitively free-style vegetable and fruit chopper I have ever seen or hope to see. Definitely puts care into every single piece, no two pieces same size or shape, this girl in the kitchen makes your average wife look lazy and bored, and boring.



I love visiting my own blog and seeing the collection of MK pictures growing, it's a good place to see a lot of them all at once. Then MK + Fay is an independent entity unto it's own............I am separate as well as involved..........this satisfies the narcissist. Oh really very satisfying, all around, to love the Great Insatiable.

The Surf Shop in Williamsburg

Epidermal Macabre

Epidermal Macabre


Indelicate is he who loathes
The aspect of his fleshy clothes, --
The flying fabric stitched on bone,
The vesture of the skeleton,
The garment neither fur nor hair,
The cloak of evil and despair,
The veil long violated by
Caresses of the hand and eye.
Yet such is my unseemliness:
I hate my epidermal dress,
The savage blood's obscenity,
The rags of my anatomy,
And willingly would I dispense
With false accouterments of sense,
To sleep immodestly, a most
Incarnadine and carnal ghost.

-Theodore Roethke

War and Peace

Rostov contemplating his beloved Emperor Alexander when he chances on him alone after the defeat:


"Why, it's as though I were glad to take advantage of his being alone and despondent! It might be disagreeable or painful for him to see a strange face at this moment of sorrow. Besides, what could I say to him now, when my heart fails me and my mouth feels dry at the mere sight of him? Not one of the innumerable speeches he had addressed to the Tsar in his imagination could he recall now. Those speeches were for the most part framed for quite different conditions: to be spoken pre-eminently at moments of victory and triumph, above all, on his death-bed, as he lay dying of wounds and the Sovereign thanked him for his heroic exploits, while he gave expression as he died to the love he had proved by his conduct."


Bolonsky, close to death on the battle field after being wounded in a heroic act, who dreams and has dreamed only of greatness in war, of immortal prestige earned by bravery, and now contemplating the approach of death, slipping out of consciousness:


"Lord have mercy on me! ... But to whom am I to say that? Is it to the great Power, indefinable, incomprehensible, which I not only cannot turn to but which I cannot even express in words - the great All or Nothing,' said he to himself, 'or is it to that God who has been sewn into this amulet by Marie? Nothing, nothing is certain, except the unimportance of everything within my comprehension and the grandeur of something incomprehensible but all-important."

the flow

I just came from a photography session in the bathroom where I spent a long time pushing then a couple little poopies came out then a huge abortion which is to say I started my thing and no wonder my whole body aches and I have had to quell urges to fight with strangers and roomates. Also in the bathroom I took pictures of the holiday decor. Here's one:



PS. Could it be any colder. Brrrr!!!! Scared to go back outside. But I am so glad I'll have the oh so sweet and extremely thin but scorchingly hot, M to the L to the K to keep me warm and if that means her sleeping on top of me like a turtle or something I couldn't be more pleased.

pic txt 2 luv

This face is just killing me, it's really too adorable .... perhaps I should turn my blog into a photo album that only features the apple of my eye, Miss Mischa "on a leash" Kittenish Karam.

Proof of destiny

Since I have made several recent references to destiny in conversation with my friend, and have been asked to elaborate on that concept, today I venture to propose a proof of destiny, or at least an acceptable definition. Although calculations in math have never been my strongest point, I do remember a few concepts, one being Plato's theory (also supported by Aristotle) of infinite divisibility: that as two points approach each other by halves, they may approach to infinity, and will never technically meet. So basically my definition of destiny depends on this theory, in addition to the concept of infinity in general.

Thus said, destiny is the infinite approach, by halves, of the future and the present moment. Does that make sense? Which is to say, the present moment (which is not static but constantly evolving) is the result of the past that includes all the decisions and choices of each person living (on a macro level) and dead (insofar as the results of actions are like dominos and dead people's actions still reverberate although technically they have expired) in addition to natural forces (i.e disaster or nice weather, etc), in short all the factors that have led to present circumstances. Because of said factors, the present reality could not be anything other than what actually is, and this is why radical acceptance is an important exercise for everyone, not just borderlines or other anxious people. And if you accept this fact, you must also concede that the future can only be comprised of the outcome of present decisions, choices, and natural factors. Of course, one wants to insist on the importance of personal choice ... as if things could go one way or the other. The truth is, nobody knows what they will do or say five minutes from the present much less in five years. But the closer the future approaches in relation to the present, the actual range of choices shrinks toward zero. Consider on an individual level, when faced with a decision, a person's capabilities, proclivities, and history all sharpen to a small point and their behavior and method of reasoning are almost shall we say predictable. That doesn't mean one person can't surprise another or even their self, but the outcome is the only possible one, because only one outcome actually follows and is the natural result of the influencing factors as they manifest in the situation.
Any takers? Any questions? Anyone see a flaw in my argument?

This shit will fuck you up

One point five hours till my lunch date with the great research writer, darkest beauty, dance and other music compilation expert, and totally ten gold star kisser, the irresistible MC Death...

Tatiana and/in the pussycat den

Someone saved me from everything

Well I'm sorry for anything or anyone that depends on my misery for their own happiness, because someone just saved me and I didn't see it coming and from now on all my prayers go thank you thank you thank you. I know life is never pain free but something beautiful just happened and I'm done being bitter and nasty, if ever I was, from now all I only work hard and am a good girl not mean or selfish but trying to take care of this little spark and also keeping it on lock because I must always be in psychological control hehe. or have that illusion anyway.

make out with you in the hospital bed

Okay .... so here's a picture of Mischa and Fay discussing their brand spanking new friendship. Obviously, Mischa is on the left. She's super cute, even when I tell her that I'm not responsible for her feelings. I ask myself, should I just be firm and dom with the borderline? I know I am working with a smart fox. Do you know what "anomie" means? Do you know what "misanthropy" is? Can I have your pills, if you're not going to take them?

In remission (and love)

Discomfiture

Once you realize you can fake it
There is no discomfiture
A robot where the eyes
Have been if ever there
Were more complacent
Ways to die
I do not know them
Know I made it
Look real nice, expenditure

Eye candy

This cartoon was drawn by a girl named Rachel, now living in Brooklyn but hailing from Minneapolis like me, where she was inspired to mock two of the higher profile dykes in conversation. The character on the right is K Bartlesmann, owner of several coffee shops and venues. The one on the left is Sheila, my former kitchen boss and also friend. I agree with the sentiments of both speakers.




This is my friend Sarah Scotland's dog, Pete.

Murder in the virgin woods

It feels so good to be back in nature. The air smells wonderful, all the evergreen trees, the sunlight ... aaaah such a nice break from the city. Feeling so relaxed I stepped outside to smoke and suddenly someone smashed me over the head with a rock. Ouch! I fell on the pile of rocks next to me, blood gushing out of my head straight into the earth. In my last moments, I thought of all the happiest and saddest moments of my life. Then I saw a light, and I followed it ..... the following pictures illustrate my journey into the afterlife, from which I write, and reflect upon worldy injustice and acts of revenge not completed, also the beauty of babies, kittens, bodies of water, and foliage and stark branches against the bright noon sky, and certain colorful insects. Life is a wonderful thing, do not waste one lovely moment. (The pictures also illustrate a pretty little tree, milkweed, and the cabin that my family and I are currently staying in for the holiday).

El mono bonito que se llama "Lujuria"

Lujuria called out to me at Pathmark and so I took his picture. I felt extremely attracted to those eyes with their long lashes. I wanted to make monkey business but he turned out to be hard hearted as well as having that type of physique. Anyway ...... last night practice was great, despite exhaustion. We wrote three new songs. I wrote almost complete lyrics on the spot, it feels really easy at this point. I guess my lifetime of creative writing classes and verbal vomit exercises are good for something now, well everything that has tortured me is turning out to be an asset, and I feel happy. Well, not "happy". But a certain desperate terror has faded ..... thank god because everyone deserves a break from misery now and then. Well maybe some people don't deserve a break, but I do hehe. I'm sure sometime soon it will all become not good enough and I'll go back to crying in public, but for now I'm just enjoying the relative satisfaction.

I'm leaving for MN today on a 730 flight out of LGA. Going to see my whole family on my dad's side, including ninety five year old Grandma, cousin dying of brain tumor, aunt with diabetes, many cousins I don't know very well at all, a pregnant one, one with a new baby .... I'm so glad I have my camera so I can be antisocial in a helpful way. I wish I had a xanax or something for my flight. I do have War and Peace. Happy Dead Turkey Day. Oh - not turkey below. Just shoes. I work for a shoe company in real life.

4th Ave., 9th St. - F

Eskimobot

For some reason the last post wouldn't let me add any more pictures. Hopefully it will work here.

Well my band left after the show because they were tired and it was midnight or so ... but I stayed. I had to since I carried nothing, did not commute from queens or ride in the car, and never do, I just show up, and I took a nap in the early evening and showed up for a drink or two before the show - so I stayed for the other band. And they were hot!!!! Totally hot 80's dance party. The little guitar girl with the Hello Kitty gear was a minnie meow shredder and the funk coming from below with the gothic manly-girl on bass ... and super cute drummer .... well basically I didn't mind at all. Except they made me have hair insecurity. Who's hair is better, mine or his?? Everyone says mine but they might just be saying that. Anyway I was dancing and I took a couple pictures too. Here's a picture of Eskimobot:

VOLVER

I'm not in the mood to write something substantial about any movie or book, but I give Volver many, many stars! I've been doing a thousand searches for the lyrics to the song Volver - which means, to return - but cannot find them. If you can find them, post them below please. This movie is about mothers .... if you are obsessed with motherhood, or your own mother, in addition to homoerotic, incestual subtexts .... and bad fathers being murdered .... ghosts ..... oh, see it for yourself.

On the way home I got confused and switched trains at Jay instead of Hoyt, so I ended up going back into Manhattan, and didn't realize it for several stops because I was caught up in this (hot) dyke and her newborn puppy. She took it from a homeless man, who shouldn't have had it anyway because it was only a few weeks old, blind, and should not have been AWAY FROM HIS MOTHER. So I took pictures.




When I realized I was going the wrong way at East Broadway, I jumped out and grabbed a car going back to Brooklyn. On the way of course I started thinking about my mother and our relationship. I will see her in a few days. She has lost over eighty pounds. I was thinking in the car how much of my anger toward her might be toward her eating. Not that it's wrong to eat, but it's a sign of preoccupation elsewhere. In Volver, I related to Penelope's character because I also disconnected so early and have stayed away ... but my dad wasn't fucking me (oops sorry gave that away) but there were some things I suppose made me angry and I'm a sensitive little creature. But in the movie they did so much hugging and kissing (also a Spanish thing) but I started thinking about my mom's big bosom hug, which I get to feel a couple times a year - and then I start crying and can't explain why - but it will be different this year, hugging a (not quite) skinny mom. We all want back into the womb, don't we. It was nice in there. Volver!

Adieu to things I loved

So on Saturday afternoon my roomate and I did major chores. I agreed to throw away ONE of two of the comfy chairs that I stole from the smoking room in my college dorm and I've had them for around six years now. I felt so bad leaving her on the curb. How good she was to me! It makes me sick, throwing things away. I also threw out a pair of tennishoes that lost their cushioning and as I dumped old spaghetti on top of them in the garbage can I really wanted to cry. I loved those shoes so much. I can't even explain it. And now they'll spend eternity next to spaghetti and junk mail. It's wrong. They deserved better. So did my chair, which the neighborhood kids broke - they split the bamboo arm - within an hour of relocation. They abused it. Why? And that's only the first painful indignity my chair will suffer on her long journey to the junkyard and mass grave and eventual return to dust.

Subido por las luces

It seems I am getting a little better at these night city shots. Or maybe I got lucky here, but at least they didn't come out as an electric blur .... I know it has something to do with speed of the camera, but how to alter that? Still learning. These shots are taken off a penthouse roof on 23rd street between 2nd and 3rd avenue.