just stuff
Jan. 12th, 2004 10:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smokingbootI have to face the fact. I’ve been feeling crap all weekend, and today is only marginally better. I don’t even have the energy or reason for a major rant. My only excuse for feeling so flat and low is the usual uterine sloughing, and because I am about to indulge myself horribly, time for the cut.
Who could possibly miss this when it’s gone? I do have friends who take it seriously as some kind of seal of femininity, some proof that their body is indeed a vehicle for the sacred life-giving energies of the universe. I try to respect for their views and needs, but what utter bollocks. It makes me feel like some kind of vivaporous and psychotic mutant, sluggish and huge, seeking only warmth then fretting when bored, shunting out a bloodily exploded and pointless egg over three days of pointless weeping/anger/self-doubt. Ab-fucking-surd. Don’t anyone tell me that this is deliberate. Goddess hasn’t done it to vindicate us, God hasn’t done it to punish us, and even evolution can’t justify it. It is a stupid design flaw, and that’s all.
Right, that’s enough of that. Good things about the weekend, well, I cooked something nice, cut my fringe, and wrote more stuff for my strange little story. Once again, lots of choppy-choppy required, and I need to add a few bits here and there. LJ lends itself to tiny little vignettes and highly coloured scenes, but not really to long pieces. That’s OK for now. Later, we will see.
The Sea Prince is up and he looks great. He’s my big present from Beloved Bear, a blue Balinese mask painted by 3rd Generation Aborigine immigrants, so the style is ever so slightly different to the others we've seen. Crowned and heavy-lidded, he gazes down our stairs with dreamy hauteur, and on his forehead a turtle swims up towards the surface of the sea. Across from him is the montage I made of Venice, all his subjects masked and smiling. I think it looks pretty cool.
Tonight we go to see Laughs Like Gravel and Spiritual but Sensible to engage in the late swapping of Crimbo pressies. SBS’ birthday is at the end of this week, and we can’t join her. I feel rotten about this, but we’re just hopelessly booked up, and seven days notice is often not enough. The coming weekend is stuffed. I wish there was something we could do. Still, I know what she would like, and I’m going to seek it out at Amazon right now.
Who could possibly miss this when it’s gone? I do have friends who take it seriously as some kind of seal of femininity, some proof that their body is indeed a vehicle for the sacred life-giving energies of the universe. I try to respect for their views and needs, but what utter bollocks. It makes me feel like some kind of vivaporous and psychotic mutant, sluggish and huge, seeking only warmth then fretting when bored, shunting out a bloodily exploded and pointless egg over three days of pointless weeping/anger/self-doubt. Ab-fucking-surd. Don’t anyone tell me that this is deliberate. Goddess hasn’t done it to vindicate us, God hasn’t done it to punish us, and even evolution can’t justify it. It is a stupid design flaw, and that’s all.
Right, that’s enough of that. Good things about the weekend, well, I cooked something nice, cut my fringe, and wrote more stuff for my strange little story. Once again, lots of choppy-choppy required, and I need to add a few bits here and there. LJ lends itself to tiny little vignettes and highly coloured scenes, but not really to long pieces. That’s OK for now. Later, we will see.
The Sea Prince is up and he looks great. He’s my big present from Beloved Bear, a blue Balinese mask painted by 3rd Generation Aborigine immigrants, so the style is ever so slightly different to the others we've seen. Crowned and heavy-lidded, he gazes down our stairs with dreamy hauteur, and on his forehead a turtle swims up towards the surface of the sea. Across from him is the montage I made of Venice, all his subjects masked and smiling. I think it looks pretty cool.
Tonight we go to see Laughs Like Gravel and Spiritual but Sensible to engage in the late swapping of Crimbo pressies. SBS’ birthday is at the end of this week, and we can’t join her. I feel rotten about this, but we’re just hopelessly booked up, and seven days notice is often not enough. The coming weekend is stuffed. I wish there was something we could do. Still, I know what she would like, and I’m going to seek it out at Amazon right now.
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