Wednesday 30 September 2009

Willow Rosenberg

It is necessary that I do a homage to my favourite character from"Buffy the Vampire Slayer". Here are a series of photos and screen shots of Willow (played by Alyson Hannigan) in her various incarnations:


High School

"...the softer side of Sears"



Superbrain and member of the Scooby Gang




Wishverse

"That's right puppy, Willow's gonna make you bark." (vamp-Willow)



"I believe these chicken feet are mine!"



"Who do you work for?" (vamp-Willow)



"Well look at me, I'm all fuzzy." (vamp-Willow)



"Would a human do this?"




College/Wiccan-Willow

Spurty Knowledge?



Willow and Tara do a spell




Power

"We've got maybe seconds before Darth Rosenberg grinds everybody into jawa burgers, and not one of you bunch has the midiclorians to stop her." (dark-Willow)



Goddess

Saturday 26 September 2009

Back in the Cave

In the last few months I've made a concerted effort to get out of my cave and connect with life. It's been fun and fulfilling. And energizing. Why...it was almost like being an extrovert. Hang on there pumpkin! Didn't all your school reports say "Nicole is a reserved student". (Well I couldn't get a word in over all the loud-mouthed extroverts, plus I was terrified my comments, and me, would be torn to shreds by the combative debaters in the class). Anyway, school reports are dumb. And I said almost like being an extrovert - it's OK to hop over the 'version' fence every now and then, for a visit - I'm still an introvert at heart.

However, my temporary extroversion didn't bring me everything for which I'd hoped. I have some lingering disappointment from one particular outing, but I was probably expecting too much from it anyway. And I'm a little 'unhappy' that a recent-ish acquaintance-maybe-friend has found himself a girlfriend. I guess I had taken some solace from being around someone who also wasn't in a relationship. But that's not the complete truth. The complete truth is that I kind of like him, you know, in a woman-man way. But he's alot younger than me, so I was concerned it might be more of a woman-boy thing. (And I'm no "cougar"* like Demi Moore or Tilda Swinton). Although, given that I'm somewhat young for my age (grey hair notwithstanding), he could well be exactly the right age for me. (However, I think there's something to be said about my current interactions with males these days being initially lust/love focused due to a prolonged absence of lust/love in my life - and, hence, maybe I overlook the joy of friendship.)

So, apart from a couple of not-so-positive encounters, my foray into sociability has gone pretty well. But now I'm a little tired, I can feel a surreptitious weariness creeping into my being and I'm beginning to feel a little overwhelmed; I think I need to be cave-bound for awhile.


*Actually I'm a lynx


This is not me:





Or this:





This one, well, perhaps:


Tuesday 22 September 2009

Karamazov Count: Page 400

Almost halfway through (to be precise; 45% of the way through - going strong). And STUFF is happening; incrementally. However, I don't feel like discussing Karamazov just now, so I won't. But why then, oh sageness, did I give this blog entry the title "Karamazov Count"? Because I'm a crazy-kooky-wild-unpredictable gal...Actually, due to an incurable anally-retentive-obsessive-compulsive need to document my Karamazov progression and, in particular, the 100-page milestones (eg page 100, 200 300...400! etc), I had little choice but to give this blog entry the "Karamazov Count" heading, regardless of its content...So get to the feckin' content already!

Um, sure...What to say? What can I possibly say that hasn't already been said? How about: "river pink fallen tomorrow chromatograph necessary". I suspect many people will disagree with this statement but I stand by my words, or at the very least, next to them.

I think it's becoming blatantly apparent that I have nothing to say at this particular moment of my seemingly never-ending existence. The problem is that my mind, with its vast limitations, is very near to neuronal-synaptic capacity; it's just able to organize the rest of me to function day to day. Is this due to a hectic life? By the standards of the society I live in, I'm not especially busy; by the standards of me, I'm busier than I'd like to be (mainly due to work). And my current brain-ruminations, which are somewhat distracting, aren't things I'd be comfortable putting onto Effulgent13. Hence the blank.

So, instead, here is The Dream by Salvador Dali:


Monday 14 September 2009

"Heeere's Johnny!!!" *

Here is a visual representation of my psyche from earlier today:



But after some hot chocolate and a chat with Mum (and driving over my neighbour's shoes**, which were left in the middle of the driveway), my psyche looks like this:



I'd say there's a definite "Tiger/Lamb" paradox going on today. (I've put this pretentious sentence in so I can use the enigmatic "Tiger/Lamb" label).


*My thanks to the lovely Jack Nicholson and the lovely Stanley Kubrick for their lovely film creation of my second favourite Stephen King (who is also lovely) novel, The Shinning. My favourite Stephen King novel is Carrie; who is a GODDESS! - and also lovely.

**the shoes were not wrecked, just a little misshapen, and I frequently have to move shoes left in the driveway when I want to drive in or out; still, now that I'm a rose-bearing child-angel I feel a little regretful for my driveway rage.

Friday 11 September 2009

My Karamazov Journey Brings Unexpected Revelations

I'm making my way, somewhat arduously, through Book VI: The Russian Monk. It's all about the Elder Zosima; his childhood, his youth, his transformation from cranky military officer to cuddly monk. And Mr Dostoyevsky, as usual, doesn't skimp on words. No sir-ee. Why use a succinct and pithy sentence when a rambling, overly ponderous one could be used to lesser effect. Clearly, Mr D lived by the adage: EDIT is a 4-letter word.

However, an interesting by-product of Mr D's loquacity is a number of extraordinary sentences of dubious meaning. Even making allowance for "lost in translation" or "distorted in translation" or "translation untenable", Mr D had some kooky goings-on in his writing:


Quote1: "I was his master and he my servant, yet now that he and I had exchanged kisses lovingly and in spiritual tenderness, between us a great act of human unity had taken place." The Brothers Karamazov, pg 365

"...a great act of human unity...". Bonking! Shagging! Making of the Love! Oh yeah. (And is there a hint of BDSM)? And since Karamazov was written in the olden days, a time when one was not permitted to write explicitly of matters carnal (and triple that for gay matters carnal), those naughty authors had to use metaphor or allegory or just plain old obscurity to get their characters some action. (Except for DH Lawerence, he just splodged all over the page (with his WORDS), the dirty bastard.)

OK, OK, there is the small possibility that Mr D meant for this incident to be read straight (uh... pun intended) or at least, without any subtext. And it is certainly possible that, in 19th century Russia, it was a social normality for men to kiss each other; in a manly way. But to "exchange kisses lovingly"? I'm still a little sceptical.


Quote2: " God took seeds from other worlds and sowed them upon this earth and cultivated his garden..." The Brothers Karamazov, pg 369

Ah, this sounds familiar; humans evolved from alien DNA. See also The X-Files: Black Oil, or Scientology.


Quote3: "If around men who are malicious and unfeeling and unwilling to listen to you, then fall down before them and beg them for forgiveness, for verily you are guilty of the fact that they do not want to listen to you." The Brothers Karamazov, pg 370

So I'm guilty if mean bastards won't listen to me. Verily my ass! If I'm around people who are malicious and unfeeling and unwilling to listen to me...well, I'm going to convince them be less malicious and less unfeeling and less unwilling to listen to me, using my charm and charisma. And when that doesn't work, I'm damn well gonna walk away and find some nicer people.