My Silence

Aug. 19th, 2017 02:33 pm
tinhuviel: (Default)

Since I went into seclusion over Smidgen's death, so much bullshit has happened, I just don't know how to properly process it in an acceptable word format. I've been reduced to forwarding news stories and memes, and posting brief interludes of shock and horror at the dismantling of my country. Now, I could share everything I post on Facebook here, but I don't know if that would be something people would want to see, so I leave it to whomever reads this. Do you want me to rant and rave in images and micro-blogs here on the Cliffs, or shall I reserve that for Facebook and Twitter?

In the meantime, if you're wondering what I feel like being so speechless when I'm typically the one who won't shut, just reference this gif of John Cusack. Verily, he is my spirit animal.

tinhuviel: (Torquemada)

I haven’t done one of these in about 10,000 years, so let’s get this show on the road.



This is all true. photo 1264091_10153348891685721_288267917_o.jpg1. Full name: Tracy Angelina Evans
2. Nicknames: Tin, Tinhuviel, George, Darth Shriek
3. Birthplace: Asheville, North Carolina USA
4. Birthday: 10 September, 1967
5. Where Do You Live Now?: San Diego, California
6. Parent(s): Father Unit has passed.  Mother Unit is here in San Diego.
7. Sibling(s): ZERO
8. Looks: Better off invisible.
9. Favourite Animal(s): Anything non-human, except for millipedes and centipedes.  Like humans, they can go fuck themselves.
10. Favorite TV Show(s): Impractical Jokers, Better Call Saul



11. Favorite Kind(s) Of Music: Most everything but Country and Opera.
12. Favorite Movie(s): Sci-Fi, Unusual, Conceptual, Foreign
13. School: Some college, focusing on English and Veterinary Assistance
14. Future School: I’m too old for this question. The Chapel Perilous

15. Future Job: Testing new, effective sleep aids.
16. Boyfriend/Girlfriend: nah
17. Best Buds: I’m a bit of a hermit these days.
18. Favorite Candy: Milk Dud
19. Hobbies: Music, reading, writing
20. Things You Collect: Grudges, CDs, movies, moments in time.



21. Do You Have A Personal Phone Line: Yes
22. Favorite Body Part Of The Opposite Sex? The eyes and brain
23. Any Tattoos And Where Of What?: Red & Black Triskele on right hand, Green Shriekback logo on left hand, Mwanza Flat-headed Agama with green and blue hues instead of pinkish and blue.
24. Piercing(s) And Where?: not anymore
25. What Do You Sleep in?: clothing
26. Do you like Chain Letters: aw HELL NAW.
27. Best Advice: Reality is peripheral.
28. Favorite Quotes: Hope for the best, expect the worst. - Mel Brooks.
29. Non-sport Activity You Enjoy: sleep
30. Dream Car: A transporter



31. Favorite Thing To Do In Spring: Avoid the sun.
32. What’s Your Bedtime: Whenever I’m lucky.
33. Where Do You Shop: Wherever I can.
34. Coke or Pepsi: Cheerwine

35. Favorite Thing(s) To Wear?: Something loose that will allow me to blend into my surroundings.
36. Favorite Subject(s) In School: English and Creative Writing

37. Favorite Color(s): Green, Red, Black
38. Favorite People To Talk To Online: People with brains and a wicked sense of humour that has set them on the road to Hell.

39. Root-Beer or Dr. Pepper? Root beer

40. Do You Shave? I’m too old for that bullshit.




41. Favorite Vacation Spot(s): I don’t do vacations.  My favourite place to BE is England.
42. Favorite Family Member(s): Smidgen
43. Did You Eat Paint Chips When You Were a Kid? WHAT?
44. Favorite CD you own: Currently Without Real String or Fish by Shriekback
45. The ONE Person Who You Hate The Most: Going with an old standard here and saying Pat Robertson.
46. Favorite Food(s)?: Potatoes
47. Who Is The Hottest Guy or Girl In The World?: I have a very short list.
48. What Is Your Favorite Salad Dressing?: Bleu Cheese.
49. When You Die, Do You Wanna Be Buried or Burned Into Ashes? I don’t care, as long as I end up on Craggy Dome.
50. Do You Believe In Aliens?: Absolutely.








51. If You Had The Chance To Professionally Do Something, What would You Do? I’m already a Professional Misanthropist.
52. Things You Obsess Over: Various artists, ideas, philosophies, theories, general weirdness
53. Favorite Day of the Week: Don’t bloody care.
54. An Authority Figure You Hate: The Feudal Mistress still tops the list.
55. Favorite Disney Movie: Bambi
56. What Is Your Favorite Season? Winter
57. What Toppings Do You Like On Your pizza? Cheese, with extra cheese, and cheese on the side.
58. Do You Like Your School Food Itself (As In The District Food): I never ate it.
59. If You Could Live Anywhere, Where Would You Live? Avebury, Wiltshire, UK
60. Favorite Thing(s) To Do On Weekends: Sleep, if I can accomplish it.







61. Favorite Magazine(s): Don’t have one.
62. Favorite Flower(s): White rose

63. Favorite Number(s): 5

64. Favorite Ice Cream flavor(s): Ben & Jerry’s Wavy Gravy

65. What Kind of Guys/Girls Are You Attracted to?: Dangerously intelligent, beautiful, talented, and hilarious.

66. What’s Your Most Embarrassing Moment? I inadvertently introduced myself to someone as his wife.

67. If You Could Change One Thing About Yourself What Would It be? I would be fearless.

68. Do You Eat Breakfast First Then Brush Your Teeth or Brush first ten eat breakfast: breakfast first.

69. Favorite Time of Day: Whenever I get to sleep.

70. Can A Guy and Girl Be Just “Best Friends?”: Why not?



71. Do You Ask The Girl/Guy Out Or Do You Wait For Them To Come To You?: I don’t go there anymore.

72. Do You Mind Paying For Sex? I never would.

73. What’s The Most Important thing In Someone’s Personality: Sentience

74. Do you have a pager or cell phone? Cell

75. Favorite Sport: Flambodious Butt-walking

76. What Was the Best Gift You Ever Received? Love

77. How Long Did This Letter Take You To Finish?: Not very long.

78. What Did You Listen To While Completing It?: Electric Light Orchestra’s Alone in the Universe.

79. Are you or would you like to be married in the near future (next 5 years)? NEGATIVE

80. Don’t u just hate how psychics never win the lottery? I hate it more than I don’t win the lottery. I hate psychics, especially the ones who claim to talk to your dead relatives.  They’re grifters who should be drawn and quartered.  The End.

tinhuviel: (Bellatrix)

I am kind of freaking out right now.  At the age 5, I was enrolled in 1st grade, at which time I was swiftly and truly schooled by my classmates.  I was not normal.  Period.  I wasn't allowed to dance to music like I'd always done before, without getting called names and being laughed at.  My teacher gave me a time out for not being able to recite the Lord's Prayer, and when we were supposed to play games that called for teams, there was team A and team "Shit, she's the only one left."  It was apparent, in no uncertan terms, that nothing about me was normal.  And since my family moved around a lot, I wasn't normal at any school, so it had to be me, not them.  I was given the advice to ignore it and they'd eventually go away, but they didn't. This ended, for the most part, while I was working at BMG, when I finally lost it on some asshole at J Records I was forced to work with.  I had one more incident of bullying behaviour just yesterday, and I reacted viciously. To be honest, I can't remember everything that happened there, but I think I just on that thin line that separates verbal confrontation from physical altercation.  Thirty-two (non-consecutive) years of bullying boiled up in my body, and I just fucking exploded.  But I'm not here to talk about bullying.  It seems I've done a lot of that since I've been on the Internet, and finding others like myself.  The Island of Misfit Toys is a real place on Teh Intarwebz, located a little further north-west of Dr. Moreau's Island, and separated from Fantasy Island by the Sea of Dreams (yes, we can see y'all from from our winders).  Enough of that, though.  Let's get down to bidness.

I'm here to talk about feeling paranormally different since waking up on the 14th.  The doctor said he removed 17 pounds of excess skin, fat, and other crap that wouldn't have ever otherwise gone away.  I'm talking about hearing the nurse softly say in my ear, "breathe deeply", and then I woke up with parts of my body that have always been part of me since I began to gain more weight than other kids my age, at four years.  The midsection of my stomach is mostly flat, but the lower part, the part that hangs down to your thighs when you stand, and makes you think that you have no lap whatsoever when you sit down - - well, it is gone.  Totally fucking gone.  Working on my computer has even changed, because my stomach was my prop, so I could work on my writing, promotions, and blogging while Smidgen curled up on my chest or upper abdomen.  Now, I'm having dificulty trying to find a decent computer spot, so I can write this.  I feel as though, if I were back east with the friends I have, I would hear them whisper about me not being me, reinacting one of the earlier scenes of Invasion of the Bodysnatchers.

On 14 September whilst waiting to be rolled back to the operating room, I was lying on my back with my elbow and hands touching the mattress, or I had my fingers interlocked on my midsection, and my elbows just dangled at each side.  If I wanted to put my arms at my side, then my elbows could touch the mattress, but my fingers wouldn't meet.  I couldn't do both and I never could.  It was just a fact of life for me, even after the gastric bypass surgery in 2004. Now, my elbows can rest on the bed and my fingers can interlock at the same time.  The Mother Unit was amused that my discovery of this amazed me so much.  I know that doesn't sound like much, but when you've never been able to do it before, it's kind of a thing.  The effect on my lower back was nearly instantaneous.  A lot of that pull is gone, which was the main purpose for asking to get the procedures in the first place.  Total success, right there.  Despite currently feeling as though I have been thrown into the Iron Maiden at an Iron Maiden concert, my back already doesn't hurt as much, and I'm hoping the pain will continue to wane as I heal.  I can feel the difference in my knees as well.

Psychologically, the immediate effect has not been as positive as I would have liked, but that's not the doctor's fault. Everything he did was exactly the procedures he signed on to do, and he did them expertise.  The thing for me, though, was that I went to sleep in the body I'd had for around 32 years, and I woke up a stranger to myself.  I'm not doing as well as perhaps I should in respect to mentally catching up to the physical tranformation.  There are differences you would never think of, such as, seeing my own "cho-cha" (thank you, Missy Elliott) for the very first time in my entire life.  Only a few hours after the surgery has over, I learned the women's cho-chas were supposed to look like this.  It is still quite a surprise, because most laypeople or medical personnel would never think that such a change would be shockingly phantasmagoric.  It's as though the doctor pulled everything up.  From now on, whenever I see some crazy person in the park talking down her/his pants, I'm going to wonder if they had a panniculectomy and abdominoplasty.  Such a shock to the visual senses is bizarre and unsettling.  On the other hand, I might be that homeless crazy person taking to her own privates sooner than later.

I was told that the surgery took hours because the doctor wanted to be as thorough as possible while he was working. Based on some of the surgery pictures he'd shown me during our consultation, I have no doubt he was thorough.  In fact, I think he did more than was authorised, probably because he knew I might need it down the road. I was already dead to the world, so why not? After a little bit of online research, what little time I've been online, I'm thinking that that extra something was some liposuction, considering I have two balls that catch the bloody water draining out of me, and bruises that just won't quit on my lower stomach, thighs, and cho-cha. Everything is relatively level now.  I had fatty bits on my back that are gone now, too. After all this heals I will appear to be, more or less, like someone carrying a few extra pounds, but nothing people would gawk or throw vomit fat jokes in her direction.

My entire dieting life, I was told to chant the mantra "there's a thin person inside me that yearns to get out!"  I was conditioned to dislike everything about me that anyone could see, while striving to look like the ones who are always at the front of the line to get their kick in before the day over. I was filled with a hell of a lot of animosity by the time I was approved for gastric bypass surgery, so much so that I had before and after pictures taken in the event someone told me I looked good.  My plan was to whip those pictures out and ask them what they thought now!  Over a time, especially when Aunt Tudi's health started to decline, I just grew weary of my verbal fight with society, and just gave up on avenging the evil so quantumly ingrained in us all by this mockery of our exsistence.

But, the other day, I was told it was good to see me, a "much thinner" me.  I didn't say anything then, because I've been feeling like every hell imagined in every dimension that could currently be calculated by any Physics Academic, and to be perfectly frank, I did not want to be in a tiff, or what have you.  Now, I'm a tad concerned that, in my heart, I know I may throat punch anyone who has ever known or seen me prior to the surgeries, but still comes out with that programmed bullshit, especially if they refer to having surgies to assist me lose the weight that was killing me as "taking the easy way out."  I am not above going all Jack Torrance with an ax on any motherfucker who crosses that line, and thanks to those oh so very easy surgeries and recoveries that were alllll done for cosmetic reasons and nothing else, I'm lighter, limberer, and enthusiastically motivated to shut you up by ripping your jaw bone off your stupid brainless head and feeding it to Toby. Strangers who do not know me will get you one free pass but, if a stranger proving how much of a douche nozzle they are by judging another within my earshot may very well end up in an intimate relationship with my shoes and elbows.  I haven't forgotten all the Kung Fu I was taught, and I'll probably be able to do them better now.  You can be my practice.

The flesh a person is in, is not that person, but it can affect them in unimaginable ways.  I feel like a stranger in a strange land now.  I can't quite grasp the extent of my aura.  Toby caught a glimpse of mm the other day, and barked at me as though I were a stranger.  I'm wondering how Smidge will handle seeing her new old bed, unimpressed that it no longer has the cushioning she requires.  I can get around things a bit easier, but still move like I need to squeeze, and that makes me look like I'm up to no good.  I had some of these issues with the first surgery, but the effects came much more slowly, so my adjustments were more easily accepted.  This time, not so much.  Not even after the gastric bypass did I have a figure.  Now that I do, I don't look right.

But just because I'm struggling doesn't mean I've lost one iota of my venom for humanity as a whole.  Once built, or stolen, I can just shoot my lethal laser gun at the global urban centers while wearing some dumbass latex cat suit.

FUCK THE WORLD


fuckyou.gif



Love, Tin

PS: If you find any spelling or grammatical mistakes in this, chalk it up to unbridled anger combined with full body pain. Thank you.

tinhuviel: (RepLogo)

[livejournal.com profile] dprescott just reminded me of something that happened yesterday. He had posted a picture of his dinner, captioning it as "Grilled Cobia." I read it as "grilled cobra," because I am fucking blind. With his unintentional PS on Facebook, I'm almost certain the story I'm about to tell would easily earn me the money I need for glasses, if I decided to tell it on a site like GoFundMe.com. Here's the skinny. Try not to laugh too hard at me. I got enough of that from the Mother Unit and Matt.

Mid-morning, yesterday, I began to develop a migraine headache. With the aid of darkness and Simpson oil, it subsided enough to where I thought I could go to the drum circle in Balboa Park, get a little fresh air, and hope it went away altogether.

Bad idea.

Taking Toby, we headed out around 3:30. As soon as we arrived, Toby took a huge dump right on the edge of the circle. As I was trying to pick up the mess, the plastic bag broke, and I ended up with shit all over my hand, even under my fingernails. Channeling the cursed spirit of Sal Vulcano, I freaked the fuck out, and had to go into a park restroom that looked more like an unlit stone prison cell used by the Spanish Inquisition, to scrub the flesh off my fingers.

After that, I went back to the circle, but the drums seemed to just echo in my skull. It was excruciating, so I took Toby, who was threatening to mark people's drums, and wandered away to try to drain his pipes and quiet the brain ache. About an hour later, I was seeing auras again, and couldn't bring myself to go back to the circle, so I settled in near where we parked, and apologised to passersby at whom Toby thought it was his sworn duty to bark.

no title

On occasion, I would gaze longingly up at the drum circle and, honestly, I was nursing a pretty sour "poor me" attitude, until I saw something really odd. On the edge of the circle, I saw what looked like two dogs getting it on, in time with the drummers. To me, it looked like a dark brown boy dog with lighter fur on his inner thighs, just going at with his girl, legs off the ground and everything, and no one seemed to notice what was going on! If they did, they just didn't care. Now, I wasn't scandalized by the public boning; I was more amazed that they were doing it to the beat.

I kept staring at this, agog at how no one was witnessing this awesome moment of natural symmetry, until...the boy dog lifted his head a little, and I saw that it was actually a long-haired Hippie (this was the Rainbow Family drum circle, after all), who had been bent over his drum. What I thought were the boy dog's back legs were actually the guy's arms as he kept time with everyone else.

See, this is what happens when a half-blind fucktard with a migraine headache decides it's a good idea to take an asshole dog to a drum circle. I'll inform everyone when I have my GoFundMe page ready to accept merciful donations for my prescription glasses.

Dear god, dear god...

tinhuviel: (Can't Stop Writing)
Because technology isn't alarming enough as is. I wonder if you could print out your own 3-D Shriekback for that concert you never got to attend.




Barry
by Gerpho
on Sketchfab


tinhuviel: (Devil Smidge)

I'm sure you're all like me, wondering what the bitey critters on the cover of the League of Gentlemen's album might look like in their natural habitat (other than under your bed) at night.  Well, I'm happy to provide the answer to your query.

First, let's look at the album cover.  Illustrated by the very gifted Danielle Dax, the cover of Robert Fripp and the League of Gentlemen's
only studio album is fairly alarming and will most likely compel you to go buy a night light, if you don't already have one.  Take a gander.

fripp_leaguef

Cuddly, are they not?  How could they get any more adorable than this, I ask you?  It just doesn't seem possible.

Oh, but it is.  Behold the LoG imps frolicking in their forest home.  To quote a member of the LoG, writing about another record album over a decade later, I "
hope they give you some good dreams."

NOOOOPE

Sphinx

Nov. 27th, 2014 09:29 pm
tinhuviel: (Augury)

I've been going through some old paperwork, and came across this, dated 1988. I don't even remember writing it, but there are clues to why I might have written it. I was still caught up in my studies of Greek drama from high school, on through college, and had always been fascinated with the secrets the structures of Egypt keep to this day, so that would explain the title. I guess...

Around 1987, I became enamoured with masks. Not Halloween masks, but ritual masks, tribal masks, masks that held meaning. Those masks that don't come off, but are biologically constructed by their wearers to veil the truth.  About this time, I found a mask carved out of wood at a garage sale for $1.00.  If I correctly recall, the woman said she bought it in Jamaica.  From 1988 'til 2010, it hung facing the front door, guarding us from any unwelcome persons or things.

I remember having nightmares about that time, too, which eventually gave rise to my Vampires. The mention of blood and wine was a definite reference to the Gabriel/Clannad Vampire family that appeared in those nightmares.

Also, during this time, I had discovered Syd Barrett, who is doubtlessly referenced in the term "nightmare trip." "The Bells of Silence" was something I had used to describe the sound preceding the Cenobites arrival in the Hellraiser films.

Other than that, I got nothing on this poem, except that it's kind of...odd?

Sphinx

tinhuviel: (NOT SAFE)
I found a picture of the cast of Theatre des Vampires. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you can find out here. If you click on the image, it'll take you to their Facebook page.  You may see someone who looks a tad familiar in the sea of faces.  Weirdness abounds!

tinhuviel: (Santiago)

Tonight [livejournal.com profile] debrafortune and her hubby took me to Theatre des Vampires. It's a wonderful show! The best way to describe it succinctly is Cirque du Soleil meets Anne Rice. Truly, it was visually stunning, and the dancers have to be strong enough to pick up cars, because all that climbing and dangling from the heights of the stage has got to require some serious upper body strength, and let's not even get into the power your legs must utilise to do what they do.

Everything seemed perfect for the first fifteen minutes or so, then one of the Vampires came shimmying down one of the chains to the round cage in which dangled the coven's victim. He was small, bald, and blue. I shit you not.

But it gets better. Anyone who's known me for any length of time, knows that the primary song that defines Cadmus Pariah is "Clubbed to Death" by Rob Dougan. That song was featured heavily in The Matrix movies. Later on in the show, this particular Vampire comes out on stage dressed in a long overcoat that could have been an extra outfit in The Matrix.





And this happened on the day I announced the release of the third Cadmus book, The Augury of Gideon.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Despite the weirdness overload, though, it was just an amazing experience. And I am grateful to finally be able to say, "This shit's not just in my head. I have witnesses, and they saw the insanity in action without my having to point it out.

Afterward, we walked a ways down through some of the University of Colorado. There was a nice nip in the air. Being able to feel a season is a welcome experience.

tinhuviel: (NOT SAFE)
So this happened last night.



And just when I think I'm gonna survive that trauma, Star Trek: Nemesis comes on. I have no choice but to watch that POS movie every flipping time.
tinhuviel: (Darth Geek)
This was just posted on Facebook. I think my head has finally exploded.

Photobucket

Horrified

Jun. 2nd, 2012 06:37 pm
tinhuviel: (Crone)
I'm trawling through the decade's worth of posts here on The Cliffs of Insanity and, I swear to god, I'm so tempted to lock this whole thing up. There are so many things I've written that just...well, I don't have the words for it all. Horrified is the only emotion I have at the moment. My proclivity for candor may well have come home to roost. Perhaps it's my recent inclination toward privacy in a way. I feel all jammed up about most everything now, and that's really not a good feeling. But neither is looking back on many of my posts of the past and being pretty much freaked out.
tinhuviel: (Triskele)
:|

"It's difficult to remember quite how and when interest in another human being flares into something more committed, more passionate."
tinhuviel: (Never Wrong a Writer)
I decided earlier that I wasn't going to spend the entire night in the deathtrap of a house, and opted to go see The Raven, because there's nothing like spending part of the night with John Cusack. Get your minds out of the gutter. Cusack is groovy cool, but I just don't see him that way. But maybe you do. Well, whatever, back to the story.

The screening was at 10:30. I left at 10, in plenty enough time to get there and maybe get a drink...if my nightblindness had not made me miss the exit and make me have to double back to Woodruff Road. I got in just under the wire, and walked into an empty theatre. This was actually how I wanted it and one of the reasons I chose to go to the last showing. But just before the movie actually started, a man walked in. And he sat down a couple of rows behind me. Right behind me. This was night, I was alone, and we were about to watch a movie essentially about serial murder. I began running through the few Kung Fu moves I know. Now, I may have a death wish and, given my taste in men and characters, I've always figured I'd end up being murdered by a serial killer, but I want to do it on my terms. I at least wanted to see the movie first.

What can I say about The Raven? It is in every way a brilliant film. I've been following the development of the movie closely, because I have a deep affection for Edgar Allan Poe, and John Cusack is my homeboy from a past life. And there's never been a movie I've seen him in that I haven't loved. He's been talking on Twitter about his immersion into the person of Poe for some time, and it was fascinating to see him get so involved with and come to love the author and his works.

You could really tell. Even though this was a fictional Poe, John Cusack really brought as much reality as he could to the man. He went over and above board with this role, and he should be given multitudinous props. The supporting cast was also stellar. When I saw Brendan Gleeson, I was pretty damned thrilled. Love that man. Luke Evans certainly matched Cusack in talent, but that's what happens when a Welshman and an Irishman get together. Sparks fly.

There were some aspects about the movie, especially later on in the film that really kind of freaked me out. It has to do with the ending, and I don't want to give anything away, but a couple of quotes near the end hit waaaaay close to home. Suffice to say, it's that synchronicity thing. Of course, it just got weirder when I got in the car and cranked up the iPod. XTC hasn't shown up on the iPod in ages, and what's the first song that comes on? "Rook," by XTC. Even though the song is about European folklore surrounding this bird and its cousin the crow, both are related to the raven, and I'd always equated "Rook" with Poe's "Raven."  And it's even more relevant now, considering the plot of the movie. 

So, that's freakin' strange. Here are the lyrics to the song.

XTC "Rook" from the album Nonsuch (1992)
Rook, Rook Read from your book
Who murders who and where is the treasure hid?
Crow, Crow Spill all you know
Is that my name on the bell?

Rook, Rook Gaze in the brook
If there's a secret can I be part of it?
Crow, Crow Before I'll let go, say is that my name on the bell?

Soar up high, see the semaphore from the washing lines
Break the code of the whispering chimneys and traffic signs
Where's the message that's written under the base of clouds?
Plans eternal, I know you know, so don't blurt out loud

Rook, Rook By hook or by crook
I'll make you tell me what this whole thing's about!
Crow, Crow Why can't you show
If that's my name on the bell?

On the wings of night, I fly too, above field and stream
My head bursting with knowledge 'till I wake from the dream
If I die and I find that I had a soul inside
Promise me that you'll take it up on its final ride

Rook, Rook Gaze in the brook
If there's a secret can I be part of it?
Crow, Crow Before I'll let go, say is that my name on the bell?

Oh, in case you haven't noticed, my viewing partner did not kill me. He left before the credits rolled, and I always stick around for the credits. That's how I've always learned my movie trivia, even though IMdB has pretty much made the practice redundant. Old habits die hard, and apparently so do I.
tinhuviel: (NOT SAFE)
It has been repeatedly NOT SAFE on Facebook today. Even experienced a brief conversation on my 'Phoenician' video. Was gonna seriously write on 'Star Watcher' and even 'The Braid,' but my reality keeps being canoodled with and keeping my psyche in an uproar. This combined with the Absinthe scene in Deceiver has put a dent in my sanity today.

That said, I'm going to the 10:30 screening of The Raven tonight. Because I want to. And I can.

Rare

May. 7th, 2012 08:20 pm
tinhuviel: (NOT SAFE)
Wow.

About 45 minutes ago, I heard a song I will not ever listen to again. That may have happened...well, I don't know that it has ever happened.

Suffice to say, this is an extremely rare occurrence, especially considering who is involved in the recording of the song. It takes a lot to scare the living fucking hell out of me. One of the main things is Japanese ghost stories made into film, like Ringu and Ju-On. Since this song has vocals that, for all the world, sound like the creaking noises Kayako Saeki makes in Ju-On. Just to make everyone reading this miserable, here's a clip of the Japanese ghost.



When I get permission to share the song, I assure you that I most definitely will...so you can all share the horror that is my life.
tinhuviel: (Cadmus)
"To purge himself of the taint of the human herds with whom he reluctantly interacted, the Dark Chylde of Night would make a yearly pilgrimage to the Mojave Desert to commune with the sparse life of that exquisite wasteland, and to test himself before the merciless light of day."

"“I am Cadmus, called also Pariah. I am the Child of Night, born of Kelat and Thiyennen, and was once an agent of the Apostate. I killed the man whose body you seem so keen on digging up tonight.”"

"“I am Cadmus,” the Dark Chylde of Night replied, his voice caressing the night with a velvet sonorousness. “Known also as Pariah.”"
tinhuviel: (Flint)
More synchronous goodness, just happened now.

I found the Oldman/Roth movie Meantime on You Tube and am watching now. A woman was giving the Roth character directions on what train to catch to get to her house in order to do some renovations for her. One of the trains he was supposed to catch was Epping...

...

Before it was called Epping Forest, that stretch of wood in the Greater London area was called Waltham Forest. Both Waltham and Epping are still used for various areas in that vicinity.
tinhuviel: (Flint)
I meant to post about this here earlier, but had computer problems and could not properly access Semagic or LJ. All that out of the way now, here's the latest blip in Tin's Insanity-Land.

Last night, I furiously wrote out Flint's history, including some unmistakable homo-eroticism between Flint and his dearest friend Gareth. This was a kind of nod to the "bromance" that has been joked about, by the actors themselves, between Gary Oldman and Tim Roth. So, I post the new addition to The Waltham Phantom here and, not an hour later, this was posted on 'Little Roth Quotes' on Tumblr.

Photobucket

o_0 What the fuck?

I've suffered the synchronicity thing with B for years upon years, long before I began communicating with him. But that instance from last month seemed to have kickstarted the same thing with The Roth.

That just ain't right. Seriously. Not right.

I can't win for losing.
tinhuviel: (Caveman)
I never have an actual pleasant dream...or a nightmare. All of my dreams, of which I haven't had any in an extremely long time thanks to insomnia and never getting into a deep sleep, are pretty much in the Fucking Bizarre category. I spent the night with Diane last night and got to really sleep, really deeply. And I dreamt. And it was Fucking Bizarre.

I entered this obviously English house with two small rooms on the first level, with the bathroom, and steep steps up to the bedrooms. Living in the lower level was this welfare mom. I don't know any other way to describe her. I never saw her kids, but I heard them. She was dressed in grey dirty clothes, was apathetic toward the cries of her children in some unseen room nearby, and was highly aggressive toward me. I avoided her verbal abuses, which were threatening to become physical assault, by running up the stairs.

On the second level was a long hall and in each room lived a very well-off person, their rooms dripping in luxury and excess. They were all contemptuous and many of them laughed about a woman they were holding captive, whom they ritually torturing Then I was in the largest room with two of the rich people, and one of threw the other out the window. All the bourgoisie gathered and suddenly the dead person was revived. There was some kind of quiet celebration and they dispersed back to their rooms.

I remained in the large room with the inhabitant. He told me that he and his contemporaries could influence the mind of another and make them do things. He made a gesture and two people brought in Aunt Tudi. The three of them started chanting "jump jump jump," and Aunt Tudi jumped out the window. I began begging them to bring her back like they did their comrade, but they laughed and said they weren't responsible for that, it was the woman downstairs who had that power.

I ran downstairs and began imploring the welfare mom to use her powers, but she began smacking and cursing at me. Then I heard a ruckus upstairs. I ran back upstairs to see the captive woman dressed in a purple and yellow latex body suit. She had a harpoon gun and was killing all the rich people. I asked her who she was and she said, "Who I was doesn't matter anymore. Call me Enigma now." It's like she was some sort of pissed off super-heroine. I watched her harpoon three people in the abdomen, then told her we needed to get out of there NOW.

I ran down the stairs and heard her following me. I met the welfare mother again, and she came at me. She suddenly had a harpoon right through her chest. I ran faster and thought Enigma was behind me. When I got outside, I turned around and Enigma was gone. I saw a posh department store across the street and thought I saw purple and yellow flash inside the store. I ran over and into the store and was stopped by the greeter.

It was Lie to Me-era Tim Roth. 0_o

I asked him if a woman in a purple and yellow body suit had come into the store. He said, "Oh yeah, but she just left for John Milners. That store is nicer than ours and carries harpoooons."

"Oh thank you thank you!" I shouted and grabbed his cheek and kissed him (not romantically, it was a close-lipped thank you kiss).

And I ran out of the store and into the night.

WHAT. THE. FUCK.
tinhuviel: (Hickey Monster)
Thanks to insomnia and poor judgment, that is exactly what I'm doing right now. My only hope is that the hole gets big enough for me to jump into and someone takes enough pity on me to fill the damned thing up again, with me in it.

Jesus Christ.
tinhuviel: (Family Dog)
There's something horribly sinister going on with my pictures.

The pictures that were taken on 16 May 2006, of the meeting in Brighton, are dated in my folder as being taken on 20 April, 2012. A couple of days ago, they had been taken on 10 April, 2012. I'm writing this on 8 April, 2012.

WTF?

It's freaky that any picture or document, for that matter, would be post-dated like this, but these particular pictures? These pictures?! It doesn't take much to throw me for a complete loop, and this is monumental. What would this mean? That the events documented six years ago have yet to happen?

Actually, this has been going on for a while now. The date keeps changing, jumping forward in time before time as we know it can catch up. Is that moment of time caught up in some hellish Quantum Vortex? Are we repeating this day over and over again, like Bill Murray trapped in Groundhog Day?

I'm not sure I even want to know but, one thing's for sure; I need to know.

Bloody Hell

Apr. 1st, 2012 10:53 am
tinhuviel: (Flint)
Y'know, if I had ever found the situation amusing, this would have stopped that nonsense. What the hell? I mean, really, Universe, really? Can I do nothing without the Trickster God shoving a cattle prod up my arse?

fffuuuuu.....!

tinhuviel: (Cadmus Priest)
I figured to check to see if it was safe to go back to Facebook after being frightened away yet again. And I also figured I'd leave a humourous picture asking if it was safe. No one would get it, but it's my in-joke, so I don't care. Instead I found this. Even though it's hilarious, it really didn't help with my phobic inclinations. Now, I doubt it will ever be safe.

Whoa.

Mar. 30th, 2012 11:30 am
tinhuviel: (Have a Nice Day)
I just realised that, every time I see certain souls on Facebook, I leave. Like Laurence Fishburne in Event Horizon. I just click close and wait for the storm to pass.

I'm such a phobic idiot.

**EDIT** And I just did it again. But why the HELL is he up at 4 in the blasted morning? ... wait... O_O
tinhuviel: (Vampire Relics)
Not just art either. Writing, tchatchkes, fandom, treasures, and a tweet from guess who, caught on film!

tinhuviel: (Bellatrix)
All because I've made a presence online that has gotten attention...

King Hooligan
Apocalyptic Shitdisturber
BIG BROTHER... Big fucking Brother.

I need a cave to go live in.
tinhuviel: (Family Dog)
Someone (not who you're thinking) just emailed this to me.

Photobucket

This does nothing to help my rampant, and well-founded, paranoia.
tinhuviel: (Frustration)
tinhuviel: (Red and black alien)
You know, there are some stories that you could die happy never having heard of them. This is one of those. Click at your own peril. No really. I got no warning whilst watching Ancient Aliens. At least you're getting a warning. How badly you suffer the heebie-jeebies afterward is not the responsibility of Tinhuviel or anything remotely associated with her.

How do you say 'Oh SWEET JEEBUS!!!!!!' in Russian?
tinhuviel: (Rango)
[livejournal.com profile] falkenna was right. Posting this for my own sake later on, so don't ask. Just don't even...ask...

Photobucket

Question

Mar. 4th, 2011 07:02 pm
tinhuviel: (Family Dog)
Would someone who wanted to stay anonymous use their own name, but claim to be a fan of said person and not themselves, because the idea of a famous person using their own name and putting it out there would be ridiculous? Or am I just paranoid?

Okay that's two questions. Sorry.

In November

Nov. 9th, 2010 06:07 pm
tinhuviel: (Rango)
One of the reasons November is my favourite month is because all the biting, stinging insects in the area disappear. Imagine my surprise when a wasp just flew in the house, dive-bombed me and stung me on my right upper arm. Ain't that about a bitch? South Carolina is such a hell pit, I swear. Aunt Tudi put alcohol on the sting and it's currently swelling in the area, but it doesn't hurt, so there's that to be thankful for. But a wasp...in November. Am I going to have to change my favourite month to December now? Bleh.

**EDIT**
Aunt Tudi just killed a mosquito on the back porch. WTF?
tinhuviel: (Maul - snarky)
I just got an email from Peter Serafinowicz.

Yeah, that Peter Serafinowicz. "Tatooine is sparsely populated. If the trace is correct, I will find them quickly, my Master."

Y'know...the voice of Darth Maul. That's like .... well, I don't know what's that like.

I'm emitting that beeeeep sound you hear at the beginning of BRB. Perpetually.

O_O This is the face I'll have all day. Until [livejournal.com profile] luvthyjoker is finished with me, then it will change to o_0.

Why can't I live a normal life? Oh that's right...I bring it on myself. ::lodges a spork in her eye::
tinhuviel: (Family Dog)


[livejournal.com profile] gunslingaaahhh and [livejournal.com profile] luvthyjoker, I hate you both. That is all.
tinhuviel: (Joker_Blogs_Dude)
A 65-year-old woman tug-of-warring a lollipop with a retarded chihuahua. Aunt Tudi got herself a lollipop at the bank today while I was taking care of some business. She just opened it and was eating on it when she dropped it. Toby grabbed it. And a new Special Olympics competition was born: Lolly-tugging with Team AARP and Team ARF as competitors! Yeah, never a dull moment in Tin's world. This is a perfect example of why my journal is called the Cliffs of Insanity.

o.0

Aug. 13th, 2005 02:25 pm
tinhuviel: (Ren WTF)
Criss Angel....what the fuck??

No seriously.

what....the....fuck?!

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