IHT: Medici Portrait Sheds a New Light on Color the first European portrait of a girl of african decent... painted over for centuries. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7528536 :: 0 comments
A Small Room In a small room, not quite a cafe I work as in a dream of motion and regard. Patrons dance around me in a blue haze of consumption and intersection: questions, selections and requests of the burned, the boiled and the fried. I bend to each and every whim; sing to tunes, and dance drums.
Pulled in every direction, packaged and compartmentalized, awash in an organic haze; ingested and excreted. Where am I? I am here, in a now-lighted late- night cafe. People are gone, but we remain. I am tired, and there are dishes. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7516823 :: 0 comments
History I listen to history reflected in your smile. A geek moment. You state your position; pomulgate the way-things-are. But I only see the pulsing vein at your throat, and smell your sanguine essence in a zig-zag structure of life. Cells floating in an n-dimensional space of memory and desire. An intersecting lattice of broken dreams, piercing minds and deflating memory. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7516420 :: 0 comments
Just a shot at boredom I'm not quite dead, I think to myself. Why? I'll never know. You'd think I'd make my mind up and figure out where to go. I'm somewhere on the edge between the night and day, wondering why I bother to get up each evening to play. Perhaps I'm on a mission, quite secret and insane, to drive the future forward or to hunt and kill and maim. The reason and rationale would be hidden deep in my soul, unaccessible by my conscious mind; locked in a mental hole. But more than likely nothing's up, and I must contend alone to make some sense of this existence before my heart turns to black stone. For now I'll just content myself, as I'm won't to do, and suck the blood of those hapless souls who've nothing left to rue. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7480440 :: 0 comments
I rejoined the vda-newcarthage vampiric group after reading Danny's comments on them. I left out of boredom, but it seems like a lively discussion is going on now, and a very nice short story.
Now I'm groving to Johnette Neopolitano as a result. Life is good, even if it is the afterlife. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7476078 :: 0 comments
Last August I submitted two poems to The Harrow. Never heard a peep out of them, dispite my multiple connections with them through SpazzM and Cos. But nothing... hmmm... perhaps that's why. Anyways, I mailed off again to ask what happened. I'll let you know. THey were good poems. So good that I'll post them here again... they're called Left and unRealVampires...
Left. My foot alights softly on the cold polished stone, slippered heel falling audibly behind. Velvet hip swinging forth, crushing all opposition. Leathered body sinking to the divan, elbowing into personal enclaves. Shoulder shrugging off all question, tossing head casting off inquiring stares. Teeth sink into your flesh with the inevitable mating of my hunger and your soul.
unRealVampires...
But we are not beings of logic and reason. We are beings of undecidedness. Between life and death. Life in death. Between human and machine/animal. Between friend and enemy... le etranger. We are that which cannot be re-ordered. The margin, the anterior.
We cannot exist once understood. We cannot stand the light of inspection. We cannot replicate social norms.
We are not commodity. We are fetish incarnate. Vampire is not clan, or community, or consciousness. People are clan, community, consciousness. Vampire is terminal other eternal.
All else is dross, trivial, inconsequential... an educational video, and a help file, mundane and fantasy in one.
What? Is this a game? A fiction? An affectation or an affliction? How could you denigrate the tragedies of our collective marginalizations with a PTA meeting, and a 60 minutes special?
Give me back what I have lost: my humanity, my civility, my beauty and my innocence. Give me back my family, my normalcy, and my ignorance. Give me back my lost and sense less inflated self importance. Give me back to my myself.
But, under no circumstances, turn me into a talk show side show, gimmick for gawking things that I once was. Sell me not to the bidder with the highest advertising revenues. For in those wages of sin IS true death. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7454793 :: 0 comments
My Butt Hurts! And I want no comments from the peanut gallery! Tomorrow: the vampire meets the accupuncturist. Which woman's the biggest prick! :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7395455 :: 0 comments
Noor's back! I'm hoping to go up to visit this weekend. No, not today. Soon anyway. I want to hear what really happened. I've been watching it on the news all the time. Cool pictures... :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7364140 ::
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Dominant Voice
Whose voice is speaking, yours or hers or mine? Though we spoke as one, in blood, pleasure and pain-- a story to keep us entertained--things changed.
Thinking the voice is yours, you made demands. Thinking it was hers, she screamed in pleasure's bands. But perhaps it is mine because I walked away.
Struggling to make ourselves seem real, controlling what we felt and thought, we cried for meaning in our chains
and pleasure brought us together. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7333681 :: 0 comments
Ok, my new email works now too... it is *@sarahsmiles.com, or so I'm told. That means, aside from sarah@sarahsmiles.com the following will work: beautiful @sarahsmiles.com nutbar @sarahsmiles.com undead @sarahsmiles.com superkalafraglistichowyouspellthisthing @sarahsmiles.com
Isn't technology wonderful?
Music: Rhythm of Cruelty by Magazine (circa 1979) :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7327918 :: 0 comments
Excuse my confusion, but I'm still moving to a new host. Or rather I'm being moved. Emma/Spazz are taking care of it all... and I have much to do in the process other than muddle and freak, and wonder why the gods of DNS haate me. Hey, WHO are the gods of DNS, and how do they know where I am? Music: The Sacrifice. Michael Nyman from the Piano soundtrack... Mood: None. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7325335 :: 0 comments
is my webbuddy Metachick/Hildegarde. She's now got her own cartoon! She's always wanted one, so she spent months journaling for Backwash... and now she has one... Perspicacity? :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7301198 :: 0 comments
I love Amelie. [This is a NEW link to the official site!!!] Blogged more about the movie on Thraxil (link on right). I had to wait to get a bootlegged DVD version, because I need the subtitles. Same director who did City of Lost Children and Delicatessen too. Someone said he did Alien Resurrection too. Checking that. Also, I just realized that the guy I like from Amelie was also in Diva, long ago. Just saw Diva a year or two ago. Dominique Pinon WAS in it too... 1981. Looked much younger. Sigh. I like Amelie. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7237713 :: 0 comments
Ok. Now this is weird. I was teased for being such a harry potty carmugeon. So, I give in and go to the harry potter site to sign up and get sorted into a class. And what happens? NOTHING. The main page goes ballasitc, flashing and flashing. I get the main page stopped and go off to register and get sorted. Same continually reloading. Then it crashes. I got nothing. I guess Harry Potter is only for the living. I want a DRAGON! :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7214977 :: 0 comments
I just browsed through all my posts on Anders' Thraxil. Amazing piece of technology. I WANT one for my own. Confusing as puss a t the moment, but it is wonderful to see something grow before your eyes. Oh, ya... my post first post. "I feel textually migrant, lining up at the immigration station to get validated: beautiful promise, fallen on hard times: tempi duri per I vampiri. Thanks anders, for community access. Sasm" Somehow I still feel that way. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7177509 :: 0 comments
42 is a number popularized by Lewis Carroll and in Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy. But, as ShortGoth asks, is there an explicit relationship betwix the twain? Tell me! :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7149463 :: 0 comments
If you don't know me. I write poetry. Lots of poetry. Lots of bad bad bad poetry. As long as the verse is terse and perverse... This isn't best, nor even done, but it was from today.
In trouble with Nature
Who will explain to me my location in time and space? Is my nature nutured or is it some miscalculation.
The burden of inquiry on my shoulders rests alone, has left me at a profound loss still looking for a home.
The universe is too stable, nature plain and clear, for strange anomalies.
In our world's mechanistic or chaotic points of order there still is some insistant force pushing me beyond the border.
Perhaps I have lost my faith or rather never had it; just some trick of youthfullness a useless, wasteful habit.
The world is quite undone as I move through the night searching for you.
Should I assert my right to live- sorrid, bloodstained wretch I am. Where will I locate that right? When will my searching end?
Or just accept my parriah place far removed from kith and kin. Accept myself as I am seen sunk in death and sin.
The sun-warmed stone under my thighs ties me to the world of light- to know this gives me meaning.
:: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7148408 :: 0 comments
Oh, and like the new picture from me? I'm learning lots... like how to get all the vertical lines out of pictures from my stupid scanner! :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7087252 :: 0 comments
My most bestest buddy Noor's looking for some family missing in Floods in algeria. I don't get the idea of floods in a desert, but that's me. I hope they're ok, but the shock for me, was that I'd forgotten that there was anything else going on in the world. America is in shock, and Kabul is falling, and I'm still watching. Sheesh.
:: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7087154 :: 0 comments
Bad Star
America has fallen again; the targets are missed and the homeland undefended.
America is at its knees again; keeping a brave face in an impossible situation.
There is room in my heart for Americans. For the first time in my life they share honest emotional vulnerablity
Their collective misunderstanding of their place in the world has left them purplexed.
And they sit, as do we all around them, under disasters of their making.
:: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7062297 :: 0 comments
# Nine faces of desire. Six-sided love. A tripartite struggle To a singular dispair. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7013711 :: 0 comments
Embraced
Blue-black edges of a marked, scuffed smile, is forced from a hard reality.
Crushing brused desire- enclosed, embraced, encrusted; a bloody wounded love.
Smoldering fragrant memory, fecund organic mass, is just a forged conception.
My patience, stretched beyond recognition, is an umbilical of memory, or experience. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7013676 :: 0 comments
Blood Lust (or are you really listening) Yes, you know it, have it, desire it. Look upon your desire. Feel it on your tongue. Let it roll around your mouth, and soon you are undone. Stalk it through the city streets, it's thirst that leads you on. Smell it sitting next to you sense the psychic bond.
I will watch it pass you by, slipping from your grasp, always just beyond your reach until you breath your last. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7013634 :: 0 comments
Nobody loves me when I don't post. Thus I must speak to live. Lots of longhand in notebooks, which I just can't get around to transcribing.. I just can't let the computer run my life.
The order of the Garden The order of the Garden. It is me who gives meaning to you. Or is it you who gives meaning to me? I come first and you are new, at least to my life; chronology not withstanding I am standing here tonight alone except for you. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 7013588 :: 0 comments
Things unfold slowly... all at once. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 6970952 :: 0 comments
Thraxil has had a totally insanely wonderful make-over... a creative snot-nosed punk to JuanitaWhoHacksTheBrainStem sort of transmogrification. It is pretty. Orange is nice in the autumn. I miss red leaves. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 6937735 :: 0 comments
[Outstanding questions and average lies]
First our eyes met as I got off the bus, and you out of your cab across from the station. For no reason, perhaps, but that we were both engaged in the same act, one on the hunt and the other on the prowl. Our faces each mirroring the other, well-masked and vigilantly hoping to be overlooked. The mutual recognition laid bare our plans before the other, and in our nakedness we looked away.
The moment of our brief meeting unnerved me, leaving long questions unanswered, ones I'd like not answered. And I muddled and stumbled, loosing my way, my focus, my purpose, the scent. The night was a total wreck though I wouldn't realize that for hours. My frustrated hunger started to rage, from dull instance to demand. Amid the haze of my confusion, my senses mis-sensing, I lurched about drunkenly. I don't know where you are. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 6927277 :: 0 comments
Quote of the day: "The Large Print giveth. And the Small Print taketh away" Tom Waits, "Step Right Up" :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 6912649 :: 0 comments
It is just my day for finding cool stuff on the net. Er...thanks to Yoshiro for sending this to me.
CASE SETTLED: JUSTICE TO BREAK UP APPLE FOR TURNING MICROSOFT INTO MONOPOLY Alternative OS Maker Used Anti-Competitive Practices Against Itself :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 6880300 :: 0 comments
Harry Potter is popular everywhere. So, I guess i'll have to read it. But thank god for Esme and her wealth of lore. She just sniffed at the commercial we were seeing on CNN International, and informed me that witches never sit on brooms like that. It took me forever to get it out of her, such was her indignation. Were they suposed to ride sidesaddle? No. The bristles face forward! Thus spake Esme.
I wonder what caused the change in direction? The US space race? Does a broom have to look like a thrusting object? Or merely phallic? :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 6879821 :: 0 comments
Bert is Truly Evil according to Wired.
Bert is truly evil: Remember how the Sesame Street character Bert appeared on a poster next to Osama bin Laden? According to one fellow named Robert Koontz, who says he's a former National Security Agency instructor, that was a coded message intended to set off biochemical attacks on the United States. We don't know whether Koontz is a well-briefed military analyst or just plain wacky, but you can read his investigation into this unusual topic at bringmenews.com. I never liked Sesame Street much.
:: by Sarah Smiles :: no 6879342 :: 0 comments
Oi, Slag! I got published again. It is a couple of lines that I co-wrote with the Spazz. It is in print in a chapbook called "Death Night Blood". But I don't have any more details yet. Coolio. :: by Sarah Smiles :: no 6847584 :: 0 comments
I wrote a very long poem... unfortunately it really sucks. But luckily it is really funny. I love it. But it is bad. More badder than what I share with you. So I won't share it. And you can all piss off. That said, I have some snippets that I'll share. Perhaps you'll even like them. It is certainly better than harrypotter.com.
Swirling evening autumnal souls come to me tonight. Sensual leaves fallen from the body cleave to me. Memories past joy or pain, dried, condensed into sprites come out to share my happinesses. And all the frights that on this night swirl and dance about me let me kiss away their dread and tuck them gently into oblivion's bed.
Island autumn afternoon-- self-enforced bannishment in paradise. Blue smoke memories rustle falling thoughts left derelect in wind washed piles.
:: by Sarah Smiles :: no 6847430 :: 0 comments
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