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Tempi duri per I vampiri | Sarah Smiles :: Sarah Bites |
| {Sarah} {MyBestBuddy} {Skule} {MyComments} {faboo:logs} | |||||||
3/31/2002 I joined another banner list. Yes, I'm an idiot. Nothing new. It is DarkSouls. Not that I'd ever have one. I'm in a nasty pissy angsty mood. But I got a new toy, a drawing tablet. It almost makes it look as if I can draw. It sure let's me make me look like I'm feeling right now. Ya. I'm trying to revise that poem, and it is just not working. And I'm not getting any help from the gods. 3/30/2002 Manipulated Transforming the we to include you with me is something I hadn't planned. This direct correspondence of desire, was a manipulated prosthetic meant to hold me to someone else. 3/29/2002 Dear Sarah: Your poem, "Embraced," is now online. The direct and permanent URL is http://www.theharrow.com/2002/poetry/embraced.html. ekphrastic vision the act of saying it Bounded Space... Controlled or bounded space I create your body [No, I don't know what I was thinking, or reading, or whatever. The mind was set adrift, and somehow I was just remembering geography class in grade 10, and when I was learning how to read maps, and the crush I had on my teacher.] 3/28/2002
The following poem is getting accepted by www.theharrow.com, but i have to fix it up. Any suggestions? unRealVampires... But we are not beings of logic and reason. We cannot exist once understood. We are not commodity. All else is dross, trivial, inconsequential... What? Is this a game? A fiction? Give me back what I have lost: But, under no circumstances, turn me into a talk show 3/26/2002
3/25/2002 You've got to check this out. I read a nice essay "An Overview on the Definitions of a Vampire and on Contemporary Vampirism" and put my comments about it on this VDA group. Good old shadowincubus@yahoo.com decides to take me down a notch. Have a read at what she says. It is a hooooot. Of course, I was right on about saying that the paper doesn't problematize the aryan notions of some of its research sources. It was a valid observation. But I don't think I've ever been called "Horable little cunt!" before. Or even an horrible one. Is this what they say when they mean internet access for all? blood/lust So many nights spent together, alone I can give you what you want but you cannot I lust after your love but I am left Inchoate memory Like chalk dust the memory fades, I'm covered with your dust, Fresh in the spring, 3/24/2002 saren23 and I have been jawing about writing, and I told her I got a chapter of my novel published last year... so I thought I'd dump the link here if anyone's interested in reading it. On the Waterfront Part One: A Daughter of Llyr and On the Waterfront Part Doux: Present Tense. If you like it, let me know. I'm getting back to work on it again. As soon as 100 poems is done. Sar On first glance An Overview on the Definitions of a Vampire and on Contemporary Vampirism by Aurora diSaturni looks pretty good. Though the only resources I have that Aurora uses are a bit lame. That is Melton. She ignores Katherine Ramsland's "Biercing the Darkness: Undercover with Vampires in America Today", the complete works of Elizabeth Miller, Theodore Rickles, McNally and Florescu, AND strangely enough M. Summers. The version of Melton she uses is so far out of date that it isn't funny, and is just plain wrong in many instances. For example he gets the names of books wrong. Misquotes people, and makes things up. The 2001 version is much more accurate. The weight of the paper seems to be an apology (in the traditional sense) for the Order of the Vampyre, and can't figure out the difference between history, fact and cult. The implicit Aryanism of some sections is left unchallenged, as is the anglocentricism, and the american bias. Still a fun read. Cafe Music Mind etched memories Silent gone. Wind blown paper smiles 3/23/2002
Though I haven't really pushed it to my limits of Idiocy, I would like to formally announce that I'm in love... with Blogkomm. Check it out. My last comments program got borked when Blogger ate my template. And I couldn't remember where i got the code from. Blogkomm's fucking cool! Did I mention that already? It installs like dream... if setting file permissions and knowing if you have PHP on your server not a big deal for you (thanks emma, for the PHP info way back when). And it is so cute. It works right on the page. Wanna see? Just click on the comments thingy below and see fer yerself. Thanks Holger@Blogkomm!!! The terror system The terror system has taken over. Nothing works anymore... mental ventilation, clogged. Deconstructing a mind that never knew what it took to hold it together. Cracking, spilling, not knowing what will happen when it falls apart. There can be no trust anymore when the terror system has taken over. I Nothing better to do... sitting tight, keeping quiet. Don't worry about it. Someone will come by II Subtle stumbling eyes, 3/22/2002 I'm too tired to be human, but here's something that made me smile today.... Simple, spacious, encouraging. Gone is the buzz an Ikea moment. 3/21/2002 3/20/2002 Oh, this is cool beyond cool beyond cool. I wish someone would explain this to me. You've heard me whining about blogger erasing my life. Over and over and oever. I've also been sad that not many people are visiting my blogger blog any more. I've been thrilled by the fact that my livejournal site is booming with popularity. So it has not been a total deathly experience. Anyway, blogger dead, my site in decline... then I go to look for alternatives... first I look at Moveable type... it looks good. I read it, I sort of understand how it works. I got php comments installed, didn't I? I ask emma where the perl libraries are for sarahsmiles.com. And she tells me. It doesn't get better than this. But it does. Next Anders the progenatrix of thraxil: offers a copy of Thraxil. Gott im himmel! You may know that I've wanted to Thraxilate sarahsmiles.com. It is cool. Then I can get beth and noor together... even emse may get online. But it is using some postgresql thingy... That may be a show stoppper. Emma doesn't know if it is available to me. But if it does. If it will. If it can. Wooooooooo! Of course, bad things can happen. The world can end. But it is so wonderful that it could happen. Future can come as it will. I'm happy. 3/19/2002 cry and mope and mourn. it has gone from bad to worst. not only did blogger erase my templates, and the templates of many others, including the aforementioned spazz, beth, noor, but they put them back... for everyone except me!!!! It is toast. Gone. Erased. Obliterated. Well, ya. I did say this already, but it doesn't make it any better you know... And who cares? not many people. Why? because there is no comments function, let alone a hit counter, on this page. Yes, I do know it has been a shitty boring month. And I've not said or done much interesting here. But it was going to change. I swear it was. Truly. This was going to be the deepest darkest swankiest page on the block. Full of fun and insight, and damnation. Now you get this. A lame-jane grey and white abomination. So, like I've just sat here all night and cried? Well, I did. But that got boring after a while. So I've been searching. And I think I've decided to go moveabletype (moveabletype.org). I was hoping to go with thraxil, but seeing that anders has a life, and it is not an open product or anything. It is just free to download and use, if you can figure out how. Slightly over my head, I think. Salmon's got a moveable type (http://www.meadow4.com/pollen). So I know there may be help. I emailed my web mistress to find out the imporant bits of information... there may be a resurrection. 3/18/2002 Blogger is fucked. It put back all of my templates for Spazz, Noor, Beth, except this one. I think it is out to get me... I give up. Time to try something else. 3/17/2002 Low cranking whisper broken sigh invades my daylight slumber. Half unnoticed strangled cry of a soul you wished to plunder. Slightly misaligned and passed by I wait for my demise and surrender. Far too late for me to die I merely sleep and remember. Chinese Outdid Columbus, Briton Says Theories about pre-Columbian contacts between the Old World and the New abound, and now a British amateur historian says he has gathered evidence showing that, in a double challenge to accepted history, the Chinese beat Columbus to America by 72 years and also circumnavigated the globe a century before the Magellan voyage. 3/15/2002 Serbia and Montenegro Sign a Plan for Yugoslavia's Demise Yugoslavia was officially declared dead today, as leaders from the two remaining republics agreed on a pointedly loose federation and a new name: Serbia and Montenegro. Nine Poems Fucking Fast. Body, moving through space Vacuum drone jet engine Slow curve motion voice Modern Haiku I smile at you from across What is yours, Traditional Haiku Ancrene Wisse 3/13/2002
Lani (thraxil) always has the cool ones... well they all do. That or everywhere else I hang out is Trash central... The first human cloning company. God is an alien, and Jesus really IS everywhere... thanks to genetic engineering. Now elvis? I finally got Leonid's Electrica up and running. I don't know what it is... a journey into electric sounds perhaps. It is toally cool and insane. I wish I could figure out how to capture or record it. you move things, and it makes sounds... electrical and trancey sounds... check it out. And if you find anything like this please let me know. Getting the beatnick part to work was a bugger, but I did it. 3/12/2002 God damn fucking wankers just my bloody rectal cankers. I don't know why I'm so pissed, what bless'ed memory I have missed, You can tell me I'm a bitch but my time is just destroyed because my demons are deployed to explode the truth to fiction fair because tonight I just don't care. I'm pissed. I'm angry, I'm without love: time to fuck the bloody skull. I'm broken, passive beyond repair hunkering soul of deep dispair. I can eat the heart of love bleeding, putrid fetid dove. But I'm lost, where I lay nasty rot of dark decay. Spinning dolphins in the sea I am fucked beyond repair 3/11/2002 Six months later, scarred but very alive describes Lauren Manning's 6 months after being burned over 82% of her body in the world trade center. I'm typing through tears... the struggle, not the politics. 3/10/2002 This has been the little silence before the big write. I'm preparing. Plotting. Planning, and preparing again. Getting my nook and my crook and my cockle shells all in a row. I think it has to do with spring that is here in my mind if not in reality. Well, it isn't Ohio, so it is spring to me. Perhaps it is the post birthday thing, though these yearnings started well before. The new year begins March 8th, for me. Now, if it hasn't always. My year is over and I'm ready to grow new things, new plans and changes... spring cleaning all about. It seems as if all I've been writing for the past two months has been poetry. One a day, if I can, though I'm still about 10 poems behind for my Live Journal's 100 Poems group. It has taken all the energy I have... for short bursts of somewhat creative energy. And it has been so hard to find inspiration. I think that my writing is all this sort of writing on the thought of writing, or the inability to write. And all my poetry, which I am rather proud of, is closer to a real voice, but. Hmmm... Maybe it is because I find writing so painful. Physically painful that is. I'm so incredibly light sensitive that I even find looking at a computer screen to hurt. Yes I can handle some sunshine, I'm not a fucking cartoon character after all. But any sort of light gives me a fucking wicked headache, neck ache, brain ache. It COULD be partially because of the concentration that is required to look at the computer and keep track of all that is going on... checking blogs and journals, monitoring convos at Lambda or bay, ICQ and AIM messages popping up, and email. That's why writing in my paper journal is no problem. And writing poetry is just staring at the same words, over and over and over again. I love it, but it is hard on the little orbs of light in my head. Oh, proud of my poetry. Ya, I am. I think I'm accomplishing something. And I think that is sort of different than anything else I've read. Perhaps I am getting a style. I'd like to be a 'real' poet someday. You know what I mean. Some one who is as recognized as a poet as David Letterman is for being a late night talkshow host. To me, my poems seem dead. That's the good dead, not the flat and insipid dead. Dead like a diamond, or an insect caught in a chunk of amber. "A moment caught in fading film" that is reduced to a single moment o flight, but a light that radiates far beyond its confines so that it somehow becomes a vast imaginative tableau, allowing you to see the entire world that came before and after that one single moment. hey, this experiment is a success. I'm again practicing typing without looking at the screen, or the keys. I'm just sitting here in bed, propped up on pillows, computer on my lap, keeping my legs warm. And I'm typing, either with my eyes closed or staring up to the ceiling. ONly looking at the screen when I have forgotten the words I just typed, or got lost in my syntax. I didn't know if I feel any better with it, as the pain in the neck is already hear, but it does do winders for my concentration. I can't see any new email or ICQ popups, and I can sort of keep on topic. It is like, a bit, like writing in a cafe, or sitting somewhere quiet outside, watching the summer night sky and writing down thoughts in my book. More meditative and more serene. Of course I'll have to spell check this stuff. Shit. I lost focus and got caught looking at my screen again... so I'll finish my thoughts, and go for a walk. I'm working still on redesigning my sarahsmiles.com page. The goal is simple... to get all my journals onto one page. And to get all the poems there too. it will be impossible to achieve the aim without suffering. I'm going to try to do it in layers/CSS... the image looks cool enough, but the problem is how to read it without a shiny new browser. Perhaps it will be impossible. But we can only try, right? The other plan is to get my dictation thingy running with ViaVoice. I finally reinstalled it, and am playing with it. THen I can start transcribing the 400 pages of long hand that I have in my notebooks into a story. THink I already did a couple of dozen pages, but that's not quite enough to make a novel... the work goes on... pray for me, as I pray for inspiration, like summer rain on my stereotypically parched lips. 3/8/2002 Maybe I can write some lame porn for http://www.vamperotica.com/? Hmmm... "Twas brillig and the borrogroves did gyre and gimble in my bra..." No, that's not it... 3/6/2002 Got a free telnet account at Grex!. Wheeeeeee. Using it to test my page to see if it is low vision compatible... since beth's coming online more now, and she's thinking of using a screen reader... and I can't get lynx to load on my Maccy. Thanks to mark and anders (thraxil:) for reminding me to do it, and showing me where. Guess what I'm doing? Wizzing on someone's computer... with the wizzy kat here. That sure was fun. You know there was more fur inside this than without. 3/5/2002 I was looking at my Old Journal singing Sarah Smiles, quietly to myself. Then I realized, this journal's over 2 years old already. Feb 16, 2000 was the first post. Can you believe it? Do you care? If you do, how come you don't have something more important to care about... like my birthday... 3 morte days. [sic] Too Coool. Salon.com Technology | The most feared woman on the Internet Netochka Nezvanova is a software programmer, radical artist and online troublemaker. But is she for real? Queen's of delight. As I've been telling IvyBlossomed/Damned tonight, I'm reading queen of the damned. I've been promised a viewing of it for my birthday. Someone's bringing a copy down for me to see. She's reviewing it and has it on DVD. So I'm reading it again. Third time. Skipping whole chapters. Actually, anything that has LaStat in it, lazy self important fuck. Though he reminds me of someone I dearly love, and whom I'm not ashamed to mention in the same sentence... Beth, who is exactly like him, but she's not a lazy selfimportant fuck. I still wonder why only one third of the number of people ever come by my site any more. I guess I'm that self absorbed and boring? Well, not tonight. I have somthing to say. And Akasha. Yes, she's suposed to be a bitch. But there's no room whatsoever for tragedy. Well, I guess she reminded me of one of my aunts. Not she who is adored that I grew up with. But the mindlessly scheming, yet always smiles and kisses, psycho that haunted every birthday, holiday or christmas I ever had. Oh, the poor Sarah. Such bad times you've had. Your mother... so sad. Then I'd get some fucking present that her girls didn't want, or that she got at walmat... though she'd never shop there for "me and mine". BITHCH Ya, Akasha and PencilDick. Ok. I'll rant for a page about them. I don't think Lestat is gay. I think it is an insult to say so. Foppish whiner perhaps. It is so 30 seconds ago to decide that every guy who kisses a guy is queer. Hmmm... maybe it is an american opinion. He does little that I think would be seen as queer in italy. I think he's just painted as too in love with himself to care. No doubt Rice thinks he's queer. As if she gets an opinion. This is my blog. Well, I guess I should move on to racism. Why are all vampires white? Even the egyptian ones. And the girls from the middleast are green eyed redheads? Sure I love them, but they didn't write the book. What happened to being black? Well, we do get the odd third stringer pretty boy like Baby Jinks boys. Yes, I know that this is eurocentrically based... but for got sake St Augustine was black! And christ was a jew. Possibly black. The only vampire of any note who isn't white is Azzim... who is given a more nasty representation than Akasha. I think it was Rice pissing on her territory so that people couldn't say that vampires come from India, via Kali and the Gypsies, down to Sarah of the Carmague, of course :) What does the OLD South US have to do with Egypt? I guess cause they both kept slaves and oppressed the jews? This is not my opinion here, I'm just supposing why Rice would make these choices. Mekare, Gabrella, Jesse, Maharet rock my world. But it is nearly time to snooze. So tomorrow, or the day after... Remember it is birthday countdown... Ah. Bite me. How come I'm so slow? Why do I need a road map to get a joke? You however, don't know how lovely you are. Not inside, as I can only read your words and see your sneer. They bring me joy. That said, I hate mirrors too. Especially if I've drooled in my sleep, then rolled in cat fur. Just a thought on mirrors and beauty. This is a poem I wrote, sort of, for neitherday on LJ. Cut me light or cut me deep I fear the sun and fear the blade, 3/3/2002 Welcome to Goth Trailer Park! is something I tripped over on Thraxil. Not that Thrax is in my good books these days, but credit is where credit due. It's another chance to laugh at rednecks while pretending that they're not really you by putting different clothes on them. Yes to my knowledge I own no gothic clothing. But many whom I love do have shiny black closets full of fun. See? We Americans can't elevate ourselves by trashing those of different color, race, ability, national origin, weight, [insert variable], so we laugh at people who dress differently. That said, I know that's half of what being goth is all about... laughing at people who don't dress goth. Sounds circular. I just have more sympathy with people who don't fit in, for whatever reason, laughing at those who do, than the reverse. But come on... it's just fun. Ya, as much fun as spray painting anti-jewish slogans or throwing stones at Catholics. Three poems in a row. Thinking of my Birthday...
Bleached Hair
3/1/2002 Country Villa near Vence My retreat unto perspective, interwoven with the past. Thinking into prespective on life beyond life, in my roman garden. Always spring, dragging me forth from dark slumbers. Finally Summer, undisturbed, buzzing ornimental beauty. Quickly Fallâ??s regret, of love, now swift departing. Forever Winterâ??s despair, hybernating misery. |