blistered souls

The never ending repetitive nature of these ruminations brings comfort to some blistered souls, like snot plastered on the window pane over a period of years and allowed to freeze, hues of green and the odd bit of smegmum. This of course is ripped directly off of frank zappa but what does he care, he's dead, and will be for a long time. It's warm outside and posting here is exhausting vital energies that could be directed with more vigor elsewhere

then there would be nothing

Canadians aren't anything. We are a non-people. Think wind swept frozen prairie with only the odd gopher hole to break the monotony. In the summer we used to stick a garden hose in one hole, wait for them to poke their heads out the other, and then shoot them in the head with a pellet gun. Wasn't enough to kill them but as there was always a leg trap set too we could catch them easy enough. The trick was to get them out of the trap without them biting you. Little bastards. Then we'd fling them in the pond and watch them try to swim with broken legs. They'd bob up and down in the water screaming like little girls with their pants on fire and we'd take pot shot at them with the pellet gun. This would go on for ten or fifteen minutes or so until they finally drowned or somebody got lucky and hit them in the temple with a pellet. Your universe would reel at the horror of it and then there would be nothing.

fionas the world over

In furtherance of my random chaotic theory of second langauge acquisition I am going to begin a study of the films "American Psycho" and "Fiona" with my Phd students tomorrow night. The plan is to introduce the characters, lay out the basic plot line, clear up whatever confusion might arise with regard to idiomatic usage etc. all the usual rigamorol, and then attempt to create a new story in which the two characters are involved in some sort of profound conflict. Naturally Fiona will emerge triumphant in the end, hers being the more elemental evil after all. One is reminded of summer afternoons with father at the Balmoral, learning to cave in the heads of fellow drunkards with a pool cue. American Psycho evil on the other hand, despite his robust and confident apperance, remains at heart essentially hysterical, as we see towards the end in his propensity to sweat profusely and scream in big red letters utterances of the most extreme banailty. It's embarrassing, of course. None of this I don't suppose is much of a revelation to my esteemed colleagues here at forumosa and I am sorry to bore you with the details but as it happens I am rather stuck in terms of the sort of conflict that might be introduced. Either character could sneak up behind the other and run him over with a taxi, evil witch of the east cackling in the background, but that wouldn't do much to reveal anything about either character would it? No, instead I imagine something a bit more complicated, intellectual if you will. Nothing involving the fate of mankind or anything like that either, such concerns are melodramatic and egomanical generally and that isn't the effect I am going for at all. Anyway, despite American Psychos ability to rationally discuss the problems facing the modern world he remains an essentially stupid character, eloquent analysis of the contemporary classics notwithstanding. Fiona is no genius either but there is a tenderness wrapped up in her dementia, much in the manner of butterscotch in butterscotch icecream if that sort of imagery helps at all, and it is this quality which will, paradoxically enough I suppose if one is so inclined as to regard paradox with much interest, give her the strength to push through in the end thereby providing inspiration to Fionas the world over.

fighting

Fighting is good
fighting is fun
if not for fighting
you'd need to smile all the time.

Narcissist

It took ME fifteen fucking minutes to find this BOB quote:

Quote:
A narcissist is a person who never got over the infantile perspective of being the centre of the universe because the process of discovering about the external world and one's limitations within it were disrupted early by some traumatic event, frequently abuse.


Please now bow down in awe of my mighty, magnificant magnificence.... please, I'll do anything you like, bitch.
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