elizabeth erin, the beezle

As it says on the tin. Contains the In Memoriam, birthday greetings and splicing announcements of this community.
sloopjohnc
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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby sloopjohnc » 10 Dec 2011, 04:32

oliltownofkathlehem wrote:on date fixation: the remembrance cards for the service had elizabeth's death date as november 19. we assumed the funeral home guy, mr. rick, got this date off the paperwork from coroner's office. technically, it is pretty clear that she died on november 18. we were unable to tell where the snafu originated, as we have not received the death certificate yet.

this discrepancy freaked out chi chi and the exhole. when they asked me what i thought about it, i told them the truth: i really don't give a fastidious, finicky fucque which date appears officially. it doesn't matter to me one lil tiny bit. there is no real difference in one day or the next. my family seemed so shocked over my attitude. they insisted that having the correct date was essential, especially for the tomb inscription. they insisted we had to have the right date in order to honor her on the proper day. i told em that i already had the proper date to honor her, september 22.


I can totally get behind this.

On a personal note, maybe it's because my mother-in-law died terribly in a car crash two days before Christmas while we were visiting my in-laws for the holidays in New Mexico that my wife remembers the day she died. You'd have to ask her.

Sometimes, people ask me how long my mom's been gone and I couldn't really tell you. I don't know what day, or even know how many years it's been. I do remember her birthday though.

People choose to remember loved ones in their own individual ways. The day of her mom's death is important to my wife, and she sends balloons up to the sky every year on that day, while the day of my mom's death is totally irrelevant to me as far as her memory.
Last edited by sloopjohnc on 10 Dec 2011, 14:11, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby Belle Lettre » 10 Dec 2011, 09:44

Certainly makes sense to me.
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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby Charlie O. » 10 Dec 2011, 15:17

In Lennon's case, I don't think anybody here remembers him by when/how he died - thankfully, there's lots of way better stuff we can remember him by.

But it's a memory nonetheless, and one that many of us share. Most of us couldn't say for certain where we were or what we were doing on October 9, 1940.

That said, the "memorial thread" I started this year was a bit of a dog. :(
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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby kath » 10 Dec 2011, 17:14

Charlie O. wrote:In Lennon's case, I don't think anybody here remembers him by when/how he died - thankfully, there's lots of way better stuff we can remember him by.

But it's a memory nonetheless, and one that many of us share. Most of us couldn't say for certain where we were or what we were doing on October 9, 1940.

That said, the "memorial thread" I started this year was a bit of a dog. :(


but you are remembering him by when/how he died in that thread, aren't you? actually, i think yer thread kinda proves my point. is it really honoring lennon as much as it is turning into an ick fest... focusing on how he died, the nutjob who killed him, and just how much that nutjob should pay, in prison or otherwise?

please don't misunderstand me. whatever the day chosen to honor someone, it depends on the heart, the attitude, of the person doing the honoring. people should do whatever feels right to them. i certainly don't mean to knock anyone who doesn't think the same way i do. i apologize if that's how i came off at all.

sloop's wife releasing balloons is a wonderful thing. the exhole's ma had ALS for years. she faced ever increasing agony, as she went thru that long, evil deterioration of her body and became more dependent on those around her for help with even the most basic of activities. the last time she came to visit me, she broke down in tears, hardly able to breathe or talk, so worried she was that the younger spawn in her brood were too young to handle it all and would be too crushed by her death. she was also a very religious person. when she finally died, her funeral was one of the most beautiful events i've ever attended. everyone there, everyone, took it as a celebration of her release, her ultimate peace, her beliefs, and everyone there played music, or sang. i can't do justice to the inspiring joy that was happening. i've never experienced anything like it.

but i still believe the way i do. i was crushed when lennon died. yeah, i know exactly where i was when i heard the news. i was on a bus going to high school, and in a very rare thing for me, i completely lost it on that bus, in front of everybody.

exactly why would i wanna honor that day? so i can relive that time on the bus over and over and over again? do i wanna commemorate *my* sense of fucquin loss? do i wanna mark his murder as the thing to remember? do i wanna get into the social impact of loss on a grand scale? do i wanna talk about gun laws or nutjob laws or the streets of new york city? ick ick ick. is any of that honoring lennon?

my ma died on an operating table. her hip replacement had broken apart inside of her, the pain was unbearable, and they had to go in and try to fix it, even though she was up there and there was risk involved. she coded on the table. that was it. so that's the day i'm gonna honor my ma... the amazing person she was, the strong, brilliant, open-minded, outspoken, kickass person she was... the day she coded on a table?

that aint me.

if you wanna honor lennon on his death day, more power to you. lennon also meant enough to me for me to wanna honor him. the fact that i wasn't alive the day he was born is, well, ridiculous... the fact that i remember when he died, irrelevant. what he did in his lifetime is what matters to me, and the way to put the stress on that is to mark the birthday. otherwise, no matter how implicitly yer doing it, you are indeed focusing on a person's death as being the most important thing. yer focusing on loss, on sadness, on grief... things that have lil to do with that wonderful person in the first place, no matter how "human" those responses may be. i'll never be about the day the music died. i'd rather just play the fucquin music, ya know?

plus, i gotta watch catching it from other planes of existence. my ma would be furious if she were to discover i was making something out of her death day. so would the beezle. she was like my ma in so many ways. it's a good thing for me that i already think they are both right. like i need em both ganging up on me from the beyond.

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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby Quaco » 10 Dec 2011, 17:22

It's true: when you think about Lennon on Oct. 9, it's about his music and what gifts he gave us; when you think about him on Dec. 8, it's about the cultural shock of losing him. In the case of a John Lennon where there is a cultural impact that is interesting, I think there's room for both. For losing a loved one, I'd want to focus on the former for sure.
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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby beenieman » 11 Dec 2011, 00:25

Rastas celebrate your Earthday. I know that Bob Marley's earth day was February 6. I'm not interested in the day he departed this plane.
One night, an evil spirit held me down
I could not make one single sound
Jah told me, 'Son, use the word'
And now I'm as free as a bird

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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby kath » 11 Dec 2011, 07:05

Quaco wrote:In the case of a John Lennon where there is a cultural impact that is interesting, I think there's room for both.


there is. there's room for everybody's everything.

charlie, it may look like i was singling you out, but it isn't really what i meant. i was trying to talk about the idea of the thing. looking back, i don't think that's how i may've sounded, though. my apologies if i offended you or anything. ahhh, fucque. one day i might learn to self-edit.

:(

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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby Poppypoobah » 11 Dec 2011, 08:26

Kath I'm so sorry to hear about your daughter.

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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby kath » 10 Feb 2012, 09:34

Poppypoobah wrote:Kath I'm so sorry to hear about your daughter.


i'm only just now seein this, darlin. thank you kindly. i appreciate it.

p.s. and thanks, martha, for finding a place for this so i could manage to find such as the above. ::smack::

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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby kath » 16 Jul 2012, 13:51

i've just looked back into this thread after some while, and i realize that i've neglected its poor lil self. for whatever woolly-brained reason, i got into the habit of continuing the beez bits on my facebook page... pics, paintings, updates, lil tidbits. maybe somewhere in the back of my head, i got into fb as personal space. more likely i pissed off the spam filter here and just got used to doin it over there. whatever. i have no idea. however, reading back thru this, i'd be pretty safe in sayin if there's one kathish corner anywhere, it's here. mwhaha. i don't get more personal.. well, not with my clothes on.

so since many people in this thread either don't do facebook or don't know me there, i'm gonna get this caught up a lil. mind ya, i aint gonna spend my usual time spillin pages of babble in any kinda part IVish way... i am too busy writing other crap like a fucquin life story for a gotdamn desert isle. (on my notepad thingie, i keep typing it as dessert aisle. typical.) anyone who knows me on facebook, you've seen this crap already, so dew fucque off. ::smack::

first, e's inscription. it came out just the way i wanted, caplessness and all. the exhole added the phrase 'noble spirit'...

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ye recall how i said her easel in the dept's studio at uni had become a kinda memorial, folk leavin stuff on it? they're doing it at the cemetery, too. *sniffle* makes a spawn-ma proud, of course. they leave lil messages. the caretaker puts em in a lil ziplock bag and adds um to the box someone left on the front step. carved wood, driftwood, flowers, some planted, lil tokens... just groovy stuff.

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a few tributes with a clear source. one of the beezle's art friends painted this for me, from a photo she herself had taken of e.

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and then there's another friend's new tatt. mwhahaHA. first, the tatt:

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the tatt is from a beez painting. i put it up here once, whenever i had that beezle art thread. in one of her classes, she was sposed to take a photo of some kinda pattern, any kind, and then riff on it in a painting. here's the pic of the carpet...

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... and here's what elizabeth did with it...

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note what the e did with her photo-feet at the bottom. the critters that used to be a right foot, that's the tatt. of course, the friend got the tatt on her right foot. heh.


i'm still yappin in emails, yapyap, goin thru scads of boxes of old pics, cards, doodles... i can't help it i'm a fucquin pacquerat. i talked in the service speech part I about e using 'purple pens' as a thing tween us. this is the birthday card she gave me when i turned 48 last october, a month ere she opted for other realms of being that have absolutely nothing to do with l. ron hubbard.

the whole thing is nowt but ... in-jokery, shall we say, tween us.

(the front)
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and inside...
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well, the above is a good enough start for now. i've also put up lots of her art so far. i'll get around to doing it here.

p.s. by the way, we be fine and dandy over here. the cruise had a wunnerful effect on both gavin and chi chi, two people who desperately needed a vacation, regardless of anyone so beluvved dyin. they needed some off the clock happification. i think they're both good... as in better. more later. umm, possibly.

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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby kath » 16 Jul 2012, 13:54

p.sier. i'm thinkin it's time for a new name to this thread, too.

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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby Charlie O. » 16 Jul 2012, 19:08

Thanks, kath!
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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby Minnie the Minx » 17 Jul 2012, 02:19

Kath - thank you for writing this, Loved reading the card. Some chick, eh. X
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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby never/ever » 18 Jul 2012, 11:08

I don't know what to say. Moving is not describing your post. Her epitaph is just magnificent.
Thanks for sharing this.
kath wrote:i do not wanna buy the world a fucquin gotdamn coke.

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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby kath » 18 Jul 2012, 15:00

::smack:: y'all. i'll get back to this later.

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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby kath » 10 Sep 2012, 16:23

i had this freaky bad dream this morning. i'm puttin it here, cuz it goes here.

(maybe y'all should consider that a warning about potentially disturbing content. in fact, i'm not gonna put this sucquer up on facebook. i have a friend there, les, who is sooo sweet and loving and.. woundable. she was crazy about the beezle, and the beezle was crazy about her. les is the only kath-person outside my family that the beezle ever painted a painting for. she's the same friend that reap tagged in the p.s. of his original 'in memoriam' beezle announcement on facebook. for those of you not on FB, it read:

"P.S.  Les - You are absolutely forbidden to freak out / lose it / otherwise spin out over this.  We've had a terrible loss, but we're going to be OK.  I promise."

i'm worried about les right now. so yeah, fucque facebook.)

a lil set-up. i've talked about my dream life before. i've had nightmares all my damn life. i even remember my first godzilla-with-radar-only-for-my-wee-ass dream when i was circa four years old. my dad was like that. attila is like that. my ma always called it our "celtic imagination." usually, i either have those monsterry, unreal dreams, when it really is all about some core lil me, by myself, dealin with my own, er, monsters... OR i have the hi-def, ultra reality type, when yer in a convoy followin a beluvved's car on the interstate and their car suddenly spins outta control and goes off the side of an overpass. or when yer spawn are babes, a home invader comes in, holds a gun to yer head and pulls the trigger. the dreams that just shake you to yer core when you wake up.

these nightmares have always just been par for the course with me. they've also always been easily outnumbered by the happy, goofy, surreal, riding pink dolphins nekkid with joe perry kinda dreams. my dream brain will make whatever movies it will, all along the range. and my dream brain works by no rules. it'll send in substitute character players mid-game. it'll put me inside the movie one minute and sittin in the theater watching the move the next, that kinda crap.

the weird thing... i haven't had a nightmare since the beezle left this planet. at least not one i actually remembered, which means not one. why now? i dunno. her bday's comin up. maybe that's lightin a few fuses down in the headpipes somewhere.

yeahyeah. the dream:

i find myself plopped into a weird lil sadistic alien overlord scenario, me and maybe fifty other humans, all ages, all types. we're all kept like lil lab rats on a movie set that looks like a parcel of reality. a compound somewhere in the woods. there's a main building for everybody, all made of glass walls and ceilings, presumably for better overlord viewing. several outer buildings. a landscape with paths and trees and densely wooded outer edges, a huge fence all around. a center square of grass where everyone hangs out. the whole thing... let's call it, i dunno, five acres? i aint good with numbers, but enough space to contain all of the above yet still be kinda tight, controlled and alien lab-ratty.

i find out on my arrival that there's a game played by force everyday. there are three buttons on a post in the middle of the square, lookin like a lil doorbell in triplicate. each day, the person with the next number at the meat counter has to hit one of em. the person is announced over an evil, alien loudspeaker in the same kinda tone as "clean up on aisle 5." each button means someone's gonna die. if a button aint chosen or the game aint played, everybody's gonna die, in very bad ways.

the top button is a flood, i dunno, more like a mini-surge wave that's gonna rip through and take out a number of people, probably. the second is the evil alien smackdown button. when it's hit, this giant gleaming buick-sized hockey puck o' doom appears in the sky and starts goin after people with evil alien lasers. the third button is the let-me-do-it-for-you-overlords button. whoever picks that button, that person gets this weird kill bracelet, one that looks a lil like the one in cowboys vs. aliens, except more streamlined and fashionable for the killer on the go. once the kill bracelet magically appears on the wrist of the seeker, everyone's got a few seconds of lead time to scatter and hide.

look, i'm just the messenger. i can't control what my dream brain does, which means no one can sue my dream brain for copyright infringement on any movie riffin, either.

the thing is, SOMEbody's gonna die, either way, before the game ends for the day, and the game ends for the day when somebody dies. whichever person has the turn for the day, he or she has to hit one of the buttons. if you hit button #1, a number of people are gonna die at once, but in a bizarre twist, according to twisty dream rules, it has more the feel of a natural disaster, just a fluky twist of fate, as opposed to an actual agent or an actual cause-and-effect. if you hit button #2, the hockey puck with lasers is gonna take out somebody, and it's gonna be bloody. but it's just gonna be one person, one random person. if you choose button #3, well, somebody in the room next to you must've realllllly pissed you off with his snorin the night before. or it could also mean that you feel like a sheriff. maybe having the power to choose which person dies yer own self could be seen as a, oh hey, let's make the most of it and take out the guy over there who just hit his kid. right?

obviously, i am explaining stuff that my dream-me just kinda knew in a flash upon entering the dream. y'all know how it goes. i'm also by reflex habit interpreting some of it as i go along. my awake brain always takes a few educated guesses on the dream scene (the glass walls and easier viewing, for example.) but the core script of the dream movie is just as i'm reporting it. i'm not makin up the dream to make a point or to start a killswitch ethical debate or anything. i recall every tiny second of it vividly.

in the dream, i went through a few of the game cycles, with that lil thing of mine thrown in for weird measure, different characters being inserted as replacements here and there, outta nowhere. i didn't get called, but i saw buttons 2 and 3 get pressed. (funny how no one picked button #1... nobody wants a fucquin flood.) on the first 'day', some businessman type who looked like brian dennehy pressed 2. in a matter of seconds, a whirling, zippy killer puck starts flyin around, people are trying to hide, run, scramble. nobody's screaming like in the movies, though. before too long, some poor somebody gets sliced apart. there are just a few brief interlude type scenes of everyone talkin that night, a flash here, a flash there, my friend susan sewing a jacket, sayin sumthin like, "what are ya gonna do?"

the second 'day', a few new cast members appear, my second boyfriend, my neighbor in carolina.. somebody who looks like andrew dice clay hits 2 again. in the scattering chaos, i remember someone had said something about the glass house being safe (kath=sap), so i haul it in there, and the damn puck comes right in after my ass, tearin thru glass, the shards falling in sheets. i get it bad. i'm lyin on my back, people huddlin around me tryin to say nice crap. i look down at my leg, and half of it lengthwise is gone, sliced away. i mean, i don't feel any pain or anything. i just know i'm the one that's gonna die for that day.

usually, when i'm about to die in a dream, i wake up right before i die. i wake up rigggght before i'm about to hit the ground. this time, though, i just got reset in the dream, as though i were part of a damn video game. i even had a momentary semi-lucid response to it: "oh yer KIDDIN me. i'm back inside this fucquery again? where'd the rest of my leg come from, dammit?"

third "day"... add some new people. my tenth grade chemistry teacher. bill murray. the beezle, lookin around age 9. cue goofy brain-logic, and i'm peeved at the beez. "just what THE hell are you doin here, bubba? aren't you sposed to be in school or something?" she's all goofy kid grinny, like she always was then. then suddenly, my dream movie skips like a record, i must've missed a beat, a moment of running time or something. suddenly, i see the kill bracelet appear on the beezle's wrist. she's smilin away. everybody starts scattering. in those two seconds when my freaked brain is goin... wait... i didn't hear her name called on the loudspeaker... i didn't even see her walk up to push a button or which one she pushed... when everyone else is runnin away for their lead time... then the realization hits me. holy shit, and i start runnin towards her. she's already lyin flat on the field.

that woke me up.

ya knoww... i know there's a part of me that wants to paint her as some kinda cinematic hero, that wants to see her as calmly, even happily, willing to take herself out instead of taking anyone else out. this is not real reality, of course, when it comes to her suicide. (i *do* see her as noble and heroic, just not in that way, the ultimate sacrifice into the sunset kinda way.) but i think there are alottttta things goin on in that dream. things that have nothing to do with how many bloody sci fi movies i watched as a kid or how fucquin certifiable i really am.

there's a screwy metaphor of life behind it all, something about choices when yer confronted with a totally fucqued fate that ya have no power to change. now that might have something to do with the beezle in reality. (it might not.) then there's my own sense of guilt bubblin around under there, guilt or powerlessness or lack of awareness in that lil record skip when the game metaphor zeroed in on the beezle. (yep.) my dream brain, so unlinear, so swirly and shifting and illogical from the outside most of the time, had its own rather standard narrative sense of cinematic build-up. from strangers... to a few knowns... to the beezle. my apparent death and reset... to hers and final credits rolling. the structure meant increased effect, memory for detail, so maybe there's some point to the effect. (maybe not.) even the no screaming, the no pain, might say something about... something. (and it might not.)

ahhh, who fucquin knows. at least i'm glad i don't think of god as some 'human' 'being' 'interactive' type who would get pissed off at me for the whole evil alien overlord thing. ahem.

p.s. for those of you not on facebook or who didn't see the original beezle art thread here from way back whenever, here's the painting she did for les. les posted it for me recently cuz the pic i had of the painting was from a mid-beez-draft version.

Image

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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby Minnie the Minx » 14 Sep 2012, 17:49

I'm sorry you had that experience Kath. That must have been fucking horrible. I feel for you.
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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby kath » 14 Sep 2012, 18:09

i appreciate it, minnie.

it's weird... i tag my nightmare as potentially disturbing, but the truth is, ya just get to that point when reality trumps any nightmare you can have.

i don't mean that in a lingering, paint-it-bleak kinda way. i truly don't. this'll sound crazy, but there's a liberating aspect to that. i see those dreams more as a study in my psyche than sumthin that's gonna color the way i look at it all. nothing really changes the way i look at it all. however, some events do make a difference in yer own fear factor, ya know? yer own perspective on what's important, the future, whatever. hard to explain. when i first read the book sophie's choice, i was freaked beyond words. whaddya do in that horrific situation? how can ya choose a kid or live with such a decision that such fucquey fate thrusts upon ya? now i know without hesitation what i would do, even though i had the teensiest suspicion it might've been my original response. it would be some variation of lookin dicquewad in the face and sayin, fucque you, dicqueless. liberating.

by the way, thanks for the response. i don't honestly expect people to know what to say when i let loose with this kinda crap. i just gotta let it out. the steam's gotta vent. it's nutritional for me, even if it may be hazardous for other people. mwhaha. ::smack::

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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby Charlie O. » 15 Sep 2012, 06:17

Hazardous, no - I think it's nutritious for all, k.
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Re: I'm shocked and stunned at the terrible news

Postby kath » 20 Sep 2012, 18:59

that is a very sweet thing to say, charlie, and i ::smack:: you for it... even if its widespread, blanket truishness is debatable.

whatever the case, here we go again, folk. at least it aint a nightmare this time.

i've said it before. i feel pretty safe in this thread. innit nice? (she pats the thread's sofa cushions.) i feel safe coming out with any of my yap crap, however personal or too-much-infoic it may be.

it's a funny thing, really. technically-speaking, this board and this thread are accessible by anyone, anytime, anywhere they choose. once you send something out into the e-ether, no matter how allegedly private the context, you'd be an idjut not to consider it public fucquin domain. in a way, the notion of privacy is a construct, a device, a framework that allows you a certain relative freedom of expression, a certain relative control over whom yer choosing to consider as yer audience, a certain zeroed in focus that, ironically, gives ya more room to breathe and maneuver than if you were mic'ed up and sharing yer words with the population of new york. it's drinkin tea from an empty cup (or shootin tequila from an empty shotglass), knowing full well the cup is empty but enjoying the hell outta the taste and the ritual of drinkin it, anyway.

(cue BCBers, oh dear, is kath making peyote popsicles again??) don't be ridiculous. this is the time of the year when percodan popsicles are in.

so there are different, even totally opposite things goin on. part of me is alll about this thread as a beezle-me diary, and in that sense, what happens in beezle vegas stays in beezle vegas, bitches. but i know that if i strip myself down, if i go all out bare and nekkid, if i truly act the way the context invites... dancing as though there were no one watching, drinking as though there were tea-as-in-tequila... i could end up playin prince harry at the globe, with my pasty ass dancin all over the world's a stage.

whaddya do? go all cynical and watchful, hang up the dancing and the drinking, just cuz ya know at any second along the way someone could be watchin you/filming you/blackmailing you/callin the cops? do you shut yerself down in the name of self-protection? do you just do everything that extra bit carefully, so much so that yer dance is more like a timed exercise routine than a dance? do you opt for delusional-coloured glasses, where ya convince yerself that no one anywhere is ever watching you, just so you can wipe out the existence of any single attack from any single judge on dancing with the stars? do you spend yer time lashing out at other dancers? do you find yerself scrolling back up thru whole paragraphs cuz ya have no idea how i started this fucquin dance comparison anymore, and yer just hopin to get out of it in one piece?

see, i think the cliche is totally fucqued. you shouldn't dance as though no one is watching. what crap. you should dance as though no one is watching, while knowing that everyone is watching. mwhaha. (i am SO sane.) the no one watching implies that yer gonna dance the way you really wanna, yer gonna be yer core you, the you yer free to be when you don't have anyone around to judge you. but dancing in an empty room... what is that? is that sposed to be some kinda fucquin ideal? it's pathetically easy, aint it? so easy, anyone could do it. the cowardly lion could do it, pre-oz. are ya sposed to spend yer life seaching for empty rooms so you can dance or be yerself? unless yer a hermit on a desert island, no room is gonna stay empty. yer gonna hafta turn on and turn off yer core you like a light switch, and it's always gonna be decided by external factors. in other words, it's really the other people controlling the switch. if, however, you decide to be yer core you and dance yer own dance when you have a roomful of critical observers, you are accomplishing lotsa things, and the only thing yer sacrificing is allowing any of those other people to pull yer puppet strings.

mind ya, when i say you should do yer thing without concern for anyone else, i'm not talkin about what some jerkoffs use as a carpe-diemmy excuse to drop all consideration of others. if yer dance involves whippin out six-shooters and firing into the crowd and yer trying to justify that as yer own freedom to move... then yer a shroomy fucquin idjut and someone needs to put ya down and make candles or soap or sumthin useful outta yer corpse. i am talking about you in the context of being judged by others. right? right.

by the way, there is a reason i'm sayin all this, as impossible as it may be to see right now. um, unless i forget what it was.

when i haul off and write these massive entries in this thread, it is me, being me. i'm dancin as though no one is watching. i would write the same entry if i were writing it in my waterproof diary, the one i hide out back under the wombat shed everyday when i'm done. (i just wouldn't add ten miles of disclaimers, cuz i don't need to disclaim to my own ass, do i?) that's one core layer. of course, i am writing it for a BCB audience, as well. in its immediate context, it is a lil private bloggy thing between me and the whole board. that's layer two. of course, just by virtue of the nature of this thread, my audience of BCBers isn't reading my crap as judges or critics, or if they are, they aint tacky enough to tell me about it. i'm dancing in front of em, but they aint gonna penalize me or jump on my case if i make a misstep or fall down. in a way, it's a private dance by invitation to a buncha people who are already sympathetic, the best crowd there is.

that doesn't mean i'm not aware of layer three. if somebody of dubious motivation breaks protocol and, say, removes my words from our BCB context and puts em somewhere with certain dubious effects... suddenly, the words are placed in a place where they will be judged or criticized.. OR they land somewhere where they're gonna hurt other people or cause em grief, where they will be 'used' via such context-jacking to judge or criticize other people, then (a) we have a troll problem. mwhahaHA; and (b) i am responsible, in one basic sense: i put my words out here, knowing without a doubt they could be used in anyway by anybody, no matter how unkathish the jimmied usage may be.

the point: you just hafta get to that.. point... where ya decide you just don't give a fucque. not about the people you love and their potential to be hurt, but about the alleged life forms who spend their time hijacking yer words cuz they think givin other people headaches is the same thing as power. they think gettin other people's attention by fucquin em up or by being an asswad is better than the zero attention they get in real life. disrespect is better than no respect. you hafta realize that the people who really matter know the score and aren't gonna care or be changed by any stunt pulled by some brain-bereft fungoid. i mean, face it: if the people who really matter were stoopit, immature or weak-eyed enough to listen to fungoids in the first place, maybe those people matter a helluvalot less than ya thought they did. you hafta weigh yer desire to be as open and as honest as possible with the chance, however slim, of some troll turnin it into ick. if my desire is to give credit to the people i love? then i really aint all that bothered by trolls.

besides, the only troll i've seen around here is the common, garden-variety e-troll, a penny a dozen online, scientific name hotairicus castratus. this is nothing like a real psycho troll, folks. i think that there are a few weebles on this board who know what i mean by the distinction. a real psycho troll (scientific name fucqueyewum fucquemeaticus) is the type who lives to bring his online bullcrap to the offline world. he wants to make his lashing out from being unlaid or limpdicqued or hen-pecqued a reality, a cause-and-effect on someone else who is innocent of all charges, often a someone the troll not-so-secretly envies or desires. he wants to see his own "power" to cause grief manifested in 3D, right in yer front yard. he builds up in ick effect the same kinda way a serial killer amps up. diff degree, same principle. i've known a couple of those. the truth is, even those types don't ultimately scare me (if they don't scare me, they sure as hell aint gonna shut me up. no one's ever been able to shut me up. i do believe it's a genetic anomaly.) they don't scare me partly becuz i'm living with the best backup in the world.

i aint the kinda person to make idle threats, empty threats. hell, i aint the kinda person to make threats at all, not real ones, anyway. (when i tell someone i'm gonna run em thru with my broadsword if they post one more b.t.fucquin.o track, that's not a threat, of course. it's how i flirt.) i much prefer to just jump into the fucquin fray, ya know? i enjoy fighting my own battles. i always have. lookin back over my life, i might even call it one of my most beluvved pasttimes.

but every now and then, ya hit one of those very rare occasions when ya feel the need to call in reinforcements. there's that point where psycho troll x or y reaches the alarm-goin-off stage, as he'll invariably do if he's a real psycho troll... when i think being hurtful to me or more likely to someone i love has crossed a line or when i think the trollage is truly threatening... when i decide something's actually dangerous. when that happens, all i gotta do is call the reaper hotline. mwhahaHA. (this is gonna sound like braggin when i mean it to be credit. i guess it *is* braggin.. although trust me, it's a mixed sorta review. oof.) if things get bad enough for me to bring reap into the picture, it really doesn't matter who ya are, where you are, how covered you think yer own ass is or how wunnnnerful a person you might be behind yer lil psycho troll mask, if that's the case. if i get to the point where i sic reap on ya... what's the best way to put this... well, yer goin down, darlin, in one way or another. if memory serves (ahem), it's gonna be in the way that slices to yer chase the fastest, the way that makes ya pay the most in the currency ya wanna use the least.

but there's a reason i have called real 911 much more often than i've called reap 911. the problem is not reap being able to discover whatever info he needs to expose said troll or to make that troll open as a clear target, what trolls fear the most. he knows how to do all that stuff. the problem is reelin him back in once he has. you people think i'm kiddin. giving reap that combustible mix of justifiable target + someone he loves being hurt or threatened, therefore a cause + target is chickenshit asswad hiding behind props to take his shots = a dangerous thing just in its own right. see, reap doesn't get seeing-red furious... reap gets blind furious. he's like some genetically mutated shark whose eyes flip to milky. i hafta put on my boots and kick him in the snout several times to get him to reset or to stop him from circlin around in the front yard at hyperspeed, with his fin stoked straight up. (i suspect reap might have some displacement issyews, but let's not go there.) i mean, it aint like i care about the ultimate welfare of the target. if i've gotten to that place where i'm callin reap in, you can bet i'm already ready to dismember the troll my own self. i DO care about reap, though. who really wants to be forced to scrounge around for bail money?

it's not just that, though. how i am, what backup is to me, how i've always thought of the type of people who get off on seein themselves as threats. i've yapped before about some of the positive effects of the beezle's death (didn't think she was gonna come into this, did ya?), the good threads you pull outta things to weave yer coat, even when the threads came from casualties of a russian winter. if i didn't care all too much about asswads and their maneuvering before she passed... well, i care even less now. mwhaha. if i am willing to look some gun-toting nazi in the face as he smirkingly tries to threaten my family, my babes, and say fucque yew... i'm sure you can imagine how i feel about garden-variety dicquedrips and their drippy crapp. meaning i don't care. i'm gonna do and say exactly what i fucquin want. i'm gonna dance the way i want, even if that tabloid news crew is in the room, snappin as many unflattering pics of my great white ass as they can. and if i am dancin with the purpose of cheerin someone else up or payin homage to their moves, then i'm gonna let that be the overriding thing i care about.

i think i've lost everybody by now. like that ever stops me. anywayyy, what this all means: dance, lil sister, dance. if i happen to say things along the way that hurt someone else, thru whatever direct or indirect path, my intentions are good. if that someone is someone i care about and they get hurt, i'm just gonna assume they were having a momentary lapse of kath-understanding, or maybe they had a brain flu for a few days or some damn thing. i'll straighten em out. i'll handle it. as for the whimpering hordes of folk i don't give a crap about? fucque em, chum.

have ya ever noticed that i disclaim more than some people work for a living? freaky.


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