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Tempi duri per I vampiri | Sarah Smiles :: Sarah Bites |
| {Sarah} {MyBestBuddy} {Skule} {MyComments} {faboo:logs} | |||||||||||||||||||
1/30/2002 I wrote these two poems in the time it took to listen to the song "exposure" done live by robert frip and david sylvian. I'm not too sure who they are... but I don't care. It is so beautiful. Otherwise I'm getting inspired. Submitted two poems to a journal... called cleansheets. I think it is a porn site, not erotica, but who knows. My stuff is barely erotic. "It is impossible to achieve the aim without suffering." Exposure 1/29/2002 Not so much happening tonight. Dummped 3 rather nice poems on my live jounrnal page... where all my poems are going these days. i like the interaction, and the feedback. I'm also posting a fair bit on yahoogroups' vampire poetry. I thought it would be good, but there are only 2 active people there who seem serious about writing. Jerry (link on right), and Rain Graves, who is very accomplished. But she's a bit too busy to be regular, Ithink. No doubt cause she's actually getting published. Unlike me. I am DYING for a place to share poetry. Not to just dump stuff... "Here, I wrote 2 poems. Tell me what you think." FUCK OFF! rather, like rainy did on the list, saying something like "Here's two different rewrites of the same 3 poems, each in free meter with end rhyme, and one each in a different sonnet form. I want sonnets, but they're not working right. Comments?" THAT is how you participate in a poet's group. YOu don't have to like the poems. You don't have to like the person (I don't know jerry or rain well enough to have an opinion though they're very nice to me). It is about the words, and what you're doing with them, and what's working and not, and what can go wrong, and what went wrong but everyone likes, and says you should continue. And once in a while people actually say, "Hey I like it." and then get on with the business of the shit you overlooked. POETRY IS ABOUT FAILURE. Failure to express yourself. Failure to communicate. And the beautiful things that happen on the page and the beauty of your mind and heart flail and die when exposed to the harsh light of the evil brutal language that is the only thing you have to voice your love and pain. What the fuck am I on about (grin). You know what I mean. The community is about sharing ideas for doing shit. And vampire poetry and live jounral's 100 poems are better than many I've been in, but I'm still searching. Time for a bath!! 1/28/2002 It Sucks (26) Because I'm proud of who I am does not make it right to hold your heart tight in my hands and crush it out of spite. My dear, it's nothing personal, it stems from the state I'm in. Though you scream and call me evil, that's not what makes my acts a sin. You're the victim, it's your lot, you revel in dispair. I'm no killer, I'm just helping, and that doesn't mean that I don't care. My job here, on this dark earth, is not one you would envy I winnow good seed from the chaff, and thus I must consume thee. Cat Bite The tiny kitten black and white upon my window sill did climb. Long nights she lay near life and death, I knew not which would win 1/27/2002 From the "What the fuck?" department, we have: RECEPTION THEORY AND AUDIENCE RESEARCH: THE MYSTERY OF THE VAMPIRE'S KISS by Henry Jenkins "Lips pressed together: two mouths tasted each other's sweetness. Louise gunned the gas pedal...." WHAT IS RECEPTION THEORY?!?!? No, don't tell me, I can look it up. Thanks to Aunty Y. for sending me the reference... and ppphhhhhpttt! for the same reason. 1/24/2002 Skum sucking aliens. I'm forced to post my wonderful powetry before Blogger swine. Behold... an Haiku... Leaves fall on autumn 1/23/2002 I still don't get it, but I watched Princess Mononoke tonight. Noor's (link on right genius) had these stupid ghosts with twisty heads fro months, though they are gone now. And I couldn't figure out what they were. Noor said that I should watch this movie,but I'm not into Manga... or so I said. I stand corrected. It is beautiful. But what are those stupid cute ghosts with rattling heads? Just tell me that. 1/21/2002 I've been using my computer as a warm joy toy, and not getting much done. Nothing new. Did you realize that if you have a slightly offsided CD in your computer, the buzzing isn't a half bad vibrator? Warm too. Just what I need to go along side the "Wings of Desire" soundtrack that's playing. Slow, soft, timeless. Esmé got it for me... just another bit of my education, she says, as a mindless American. As she puts it, she wonders how Americans can even breath unaided by the US military. I'll pass comment on that, but I'm sure that my silence will stand as complicity. It is just too too strange to be as completely surrounded by a whole world of people, with a whole world of ideas, when I've grown up with basically a big flat field growing only white grain. I feel like I've come into a garden from a desert. I know that there are parts of the States that have a remote sense of what goes on in the world around them. I don't need to hear that argument again. I'm just talking about me. My experience. Where I grew up. And how absolutely vacant it seems from this perspective. Self-centered, but that is what a journal is for. I have to keep remembering that. I'm not talking to you. You're not even here. You're so not here, that I shouldn't be not acknowledging you. So I won't. I'm so alone on this page. So just me. Not lonely. There are snores that I can hear even from here. Not isolated from a warmth that is as much of a family as I have ever had. No, I am here alone with my thoughts. Few that they are. And my desires. Unacknowledge as they are. And my fears. Rampant thou art. It is funny how I started with my own sense of incredulity. How ignorant people were in Europe. Yes, everyone knows how self-absorbed americans abroad are in their own world, and how shocked that people do it differently. I won't describe the litany of "We don't do it like that back home (read: in the real world)". It is just an embarassing moment of youth like wetting the bed, or having a box of tampons fall out of your locker and skoot across the floor to the feet of boys. Boys previously rebuffed. I just spent 5 minutes going through the list and editing all the juicy bits out... there was nothing interesting left. As with the stereotype, I followed the stockholm syndrome (kidnapper victim identification) and fell in love with everything european. it was all so much better, so much more natural, so much more real, honest, communal, supportive. Of course, all so superficial. Not it, me. Such a different surface. And I was passing through so fast, and watching, and learning. How could you not fall in love. Im' sure that this is as much a tourist psychological profile as you can get. I'll have to search it out somewhere online: a 12-step program to tourism. But I wasn't a tourist. I have no where to go. I never really did, but that takes a long time to figure it out. I think tha tthe third step was the never coming home step. Terminal traveler phase, girl of the world, retired from meaning or purpose that require roots and position, and the kind of relationships I could build a career on. They may come, but they are another phase that I know nothing about. Back. Have something nice and mildly alcoholic to drink. What was I saying to myself? or typing to myself. Well, there is that bloody question... why do I want to write? I hate typing. I hate transcribing. Why do you think that I write so much poetry? Why do I think I write so much poetry. I think it is because I hate typing. I am so slow at typing. My mind is somewhere else before I ever get around to finishing the sentence. I o blech! 1/18/2002 I HATE BLOTTER. THIS HOLE JUST EATS MY POSTS AND EATS MY POSTS AND EATS MY POSTS. Sometimes I just don't have the ability to compose stuff on a notepad or bbedit, and I have to use the blogger window to type. And then sweet fuck all happens, and I lose everything. Here's the poem I was going to post. I Wrote a lot about it. I wanted to share it, and I wanted it to look good. Now, you'll have to shrink the font on your browser page to get it all on one line, because I'm not going to put all the code in again to shrink the font. I drool at the thought of getting my own Thraxil. Hmmmmmm..... that makes me feel better. Poem's called "sweet sixteen"
1/15/2002
In regards to Anders' note on Jarron Lanier and privacy: Excuse my rant. But what is the chubby lad smoking in his japanese pipe? WHY IS EVERYONE RUSHING TO THROWAWAY PRIVACY? Why not throw away importing OIL? Why not throw away corporate hegemony? I don't mind living communially. I don't mind knowing when someone should bath because I'm tripping over their sweat all summer. Why? because we all have a personal relationship for our mutual comfort and survival. I'll shed my privacy for anyone who I can reach out and slash because I know them and care about them... I'm talking about people I'm not sleeping with or related to... but I'm giving up nothing to some adminJerk at minimum wage who's keeping an eye on things for Uncle Spam. Is it because I'm un american? Nope. Is it because I don't cry for dead children? Nope. It is because privacy is a necessary and intimate part of being human. It always has been... for the past 2000000 years that there have been humans. Because even when we huddled together in a village or hut or cave we always got to be alone in the field or fen or swamp or sea when we're looking for privacy, and the dangers are not apparent. This is no more in the modern world when children can go 20 years without escaping supervision and guidance. It is sick. There is no society where privacy isn't necessary... privacy is what allows for society to be civilized, and not merely corporatized. Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa... Jaron makes me want to puke! Sorry. 1/13/2002 Beth's got Flat Hair!!! I finally got this 'bitch' online. I forced her to type in something. And she's just saying, "I don't know what it is you've made me do." I posted for her, because she wimped out, but she has promised. And the girl keeps her promises. 1/11/2002 This is great. I suck at math, and now I'm perusing: Mathematics Archives - Numbers. Why? Why! WHY!?! Because I'm writing poems on my live journal, that I've been posting here. I need to know more about math. I just got mathworld.wolfram.com passed to me from Trav via Spazz. This will never end. But i like it. I have a Sarah Smiles' DeadJournal now. What next? Blogger, Livepage, Thraxil and now DeadJournal. Perhaps something good will come of it. Perhaps not. 1/10/2002 Fibonacci The sun sets fast before I soft wake and leaves the stone-warmed memory to bake my evening lily form from dust to flesh and warm my aching heart within my breast. Eight nights, this roman week, I have lamented and rued the eve upon which I consented to be your bride for all eternity and by your side stand tall in misery. You are not what you appear to be but the opposite of when you proposed to me. I'm very proud of this poem. I don't know why, except it sounds like it is me, but also someone else.Thanks to Catspaw for suggesting this Fibonacci... 1/8/2002 Can't get into Livejournal to post my 7/100 poem. So you have to put up with it. But I love you more because of it. I want to grow old. The world will fade, though you and I were one. 1/6/2002 Terminal mind fuck! Can you believe it? Jewish Gothic with a new section on Jewish Vampires! I can now rest in peace. Ok, I've dumped today's poem to the poetry thing on the right... look at it if you will. I'm reading Crowley tonight. Danny (SG) had mentioned it in the past. Salmon and Anders got me looking in that direction more today. I also want to look at Shakespeare... ugh, because i remember my teacher in school saying that his sonnets are all written numerologically in some sort of triangle. But I don't get how... there's 154. Spazzm just confirmed this via ICQ. My guess is 51 on a side? Or is it 77 on a side? I don't get it. God, I HAVE to go back to school. There is just too much out there that I don't know, and that I can't figure out by just surfing the net. Maybe uni won't be any better, but it is a path untried. On to Crowley, goodnight six-sided breast. 1/5/2002 A pentagram, written in blood, annoints my body in gentle rivers. Thoughts in my head of revenge and guilt. Feet cut on tracks and lost highways. Hands cracked from endless toil. Pentangled heart, chaotic and dismayed; [ya, more poetry practice. sorry about that. brain dead.] 1/4/2002 AGAIN, I'm more busy on LiveJournal and my Posie des Vampires today, thank here. I'm not feeling that narrative. And my thoughts are toward pondering than towards working. Poetry is so much more to my taste today. Though of course, not good poetry. I'm just slogging through experiments... doing a poem that takes up numbers from 1 to 100 for the first 100 day of this year. That said. There is a hunger deep within that pulls me out into the night. Or pulled me out tonight. The smell of burning wood in the slightly salty evening air. It was a windy quiet moonlit night, and the roads were strangely quiet. A night to loose yourself in time, in villages in the hills. 1/3/2002 By the way. Nothing could be more important than reading Katspaw's blog. And I quote: * I will capitalize New Years needlessly.
Three-corners embrace my heart from cunt to outstreached finger-tips: an inverted dagger of love.
1/1/2002 --- In vda-newcarthage@y..., "james_p_turpin" > I don't know if this is the right groups. I'm not concerned with > blood vampires. I'd probably know who it was if somebody was sucking > blood. Err. . . I take it I'm not going to get help here. Goodbye.> Well, getting help? That would require a more explicit formulation of the question perhaps. Personally, I'd take the allergist approach. That is, remove all possible influences and then introduce them one by one and see if the symptoms come back. Move yourself, or rather remove yourself, from everyone you know... by moving to a new city, or joining club med, or stop hanging out with that group. If the symptoms go away, you know that one of the people are responsible. Unless of course if in removing the people you've also removed other influences sucking the life out of you, such as large mortgages, intravenous drug use, too much physical exertion, psychological or physical or emotional abuse. So, reintroduce the influences one at a time and see if the symptoms come back. I'd hold back on the non-human influences, as we know that the other ones can kill you. Symptoms back? There you go. You've narrowed down the problem to a select few influences. Deal with it it via a court order, a pill, or prayer or kundalini yoga. If the problem didn't leave when you did, there are a couple of options: Repeat variations of the Allergist's approach until satisfied. Remember, the best thing to do in all situations is to get plenty of rest, drink plenty of fluids, and always send cards to those you love on important special days in their lives. These steps in themselves removes most all untoward influences in your life, and leaves you well positioned to confront the major crises that assail you... like energy vamprism or poor service at famous restaurants. Of course I AM dead serious about this. Sarah Oh, my god. I forgot to wish everyone a happy Euro!!!!! I got my little bags of coins. Can't wait. Er... I couldn't really care, but why not just enjoy it. Perhaps when we listen, and see the beauty of the old woman's shuffling, we will realize that they are just the myriad echos of the lost virgin's dance. I posted some new art at thraxil:, and was going to copy it year, but somehow my puter can't handle pngs consistently. So I left it there. Thraxil is cooler than the concept of the heatdeath of the universe. So, I wish to you all a happy new years. Love and harmony, hell and damnation, whatever makes it all worth while. |