aspie ranting |
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If I seem a little distant or incoherent, it's because I am. I am not a NeuroTypical and I have no desire to become one. This is simply the area in which I stim my creative impulses. (WARNING: All entries are either ENTIRELY TRUE or ENTIRELY FALSE and anything claiming to be one of the latter is, in fact, one of the former. There are no exceptions to this rule.) comments, marriage proposals, and death threats can be sent here 
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Thursday, October 31, 2002
incorruptable like shouting "FIRE" in a crowded theater and painting the roses red hysteria hebephrenic rantings 6 AM phone calls and warning labels and warning libels yellow moon flutters palpitations palatable finally forget never forget tirades tired goodnight Wednesday, October 30, 2002
In 1938 Americans panicked when Orson Welles announced that the Martians had landed. His production of War of the Worlds convinced almost everyone. The news media were full of bombing atrocities from Spain, China and elsewhere, and the public was primed for a war with someone. Exactly 46 years later, the switchboards of London's Capital Radio were jammed by panic-stricken listeners to a re-run of the same broadcast. "Is there anybody going to listen to my story All about the girl who came to stay? She's the kind of girl you want so much it make you sorry Still you don't regret a single day Ah, girl, Girl, Girl When I think of all the times I tried to hard to leave her She will turn to me and start to cry And she promises the earth to me and I believe her After all this time I don't know why Ah, girl, girl, girl She's the kind of girl who puts you down When friends are there You feel a fool When you say she's looking good She acts as if it's understood she's cool, ooh, oo, oo, oo Girl, girl, girl Was she told when she was young that pain would lead to pleasure Did she understand it when they said That a man must break his back to earn his day of leisure? Will she still believe it when he's dead Ah, girl, girl, girl Girl" -- Girl, by The Beatles Tuesday, October 29, 2002
I put faith in people and they make me want to unexist I know that you don't love me anymore it's painfully obvious and a delicate nightmare to bear it I bare my soul and you don't even have the decency to call me and tell me you don't want me in your life. congratulations. you've killed what little piece of humanity to which I was clinging... and all I wanted to do was to love you and make things right Monday, October 28, 2002
maybe it's trite now but I can still feel you as afraid as I have to be as far as you go from me nothing will bring about the end of our feelings. most nights now I dream of a fairy tale about a princess that I once knew, a princess who above all else valued and cherished honesty and love. every morning when I awake part of me dies in that dream because apparently, it's only a fairy tale and storybook endings are a palimpsest now what with all the broken promises of a "happily ever after" alone your phone is off and I just keep dialing scared of losing you and suddenly there's more distance and there's no connecting flight from your mind to your heart I miss your smile, your laugh, your graceful opulence of caring and I find it so odd that you care about me because I've never deserved it after all we've been through I'm hurting but it's my own damn fault for thinking that I can trust everyone makes mistakes but I'm a lost cause I feel like someone is pulling my stomach through my eyes I never wanted to hurt you and I can't stop so I'll run, unles you give me a reason (or two) to stay. Sunday, October 27, 2002
nobody seems to understand the space between a goodbye or what it means in direct conrast to goodnight the shades and hues are different often an affront to the eye and one will make you fuzzy and goodbye will make me die. Friday, October 25, 2002
these little blue pills help keep my rage down anger, fear, and inadequacies pushed down to give you the benefit of the doubt I'm a sentimental fool, but don't take that to mean that if you rub me the wrong way I'll restrain my rage Wednesday, October 23, 2002
Monday, October 21, 2002
to the person who signed my guestbook as "plague." I suppose I'm supposed to recognize you, but I apologize that I can't... I would email you, but I don't know where to send it... give me a little more with which to work... if it's still important. Thursday, October 17, 2002
"As fetching as you must feel now, with Venus stopped smack in the middle of Scorpio, there's a little 8th house matter you should examine without a minute's delay. Everyone knows that when your appetite gets whetted you can be more focused than the Terminator and quicker to strike than a Venus flytrap. With Saturn about to go retrograde in the house of passion, however, you need to learn that hooking people for the sake of hooking them is a pretty hollow pursuit and that giving people pleasure can be far more fulfilling than getting it. Sex is not just about control." -- Vanity Fair's November Horoscope for Scorpio interesting "A better slumber was in your arms it's been tangled up in you A sudden morning crashed in the room with an uninvited sudden change in you What can I say? Where's that girl from last night that slept on that side and looked just like you? You can sleep in your own bed tonight simple way a silent pain screaming out my name you can sleep in your own bed tonight i hope for your sake you dont wake up as broken as I am for a lack of better words to say all i said was goodnight once again it's self defence i wont sleep a wink to prevent dreaming of you You can sleep in your own bed tonight simple way a silent pain screaming out my name you can sleep in your own bed tonight i hope for your sake you dont wake up as broken as I am sleep in your own bed tonight i know some day that you will wake up as lonely as I am You can sleep in your own bed tonight simple way a silent pain screaming out my name you can sleep in your own bed tonight i hope for your sake you dont wake up as broken as I am sleep in your own bed tonight i know some day that you will wake up as lonely as I am cuz sleep works both ways cuz sleep works both ways cuz sleep works both ways sleep in your own bed" -- A Good Night's Sleep, by The Starting Line Wednesday, October 16, 2002
16 October. Feast day of St Gerard Majella (1726-1755), an Italian lay brother who had ecstasies, bilocation (apparently being seen in two places at once) and powers of healing, prophecy and ESP. Famous Christian bilocators include St Anthony of Padua, St Severus of Ravenna, St Ambrose and St Clement of Rome. The best known case is from 1774: Alphonse de Ligouri, imprisoned at Arezzo, remained quietly in his cell and took no nourishment. Five days later he said he had been at the death-bed of Pope Clement XIV. It was confirmed that he was seen in attendance by the bedside of the dying Pope. Tuesday, October 15, 2002
"You say, it's ok, That I have to sleep alone anyway. Tell me why do you pretend, The passion in your eyes is not appropriate for friends. You say, your heart is dead. I see right through you. Your heart is blazing...red. Your gaze can not escape my senses, I know desire hides behind defences. You say, your heart is dead. I see right through you. Your heart is blazing...red. Tell me how long will you control, The longing for me deep inside your soul. You say, your heart is dead. I see right through you. Your heart is blazing." -- Red, by Fisher "You can take me away from my sorrow but you can't take away my scars I stand in the middle of the highway playing chicken with the cars It's not that I'm destructive I just want to feel your pain If there was any way I could have known I would trip and fall away from you If there was anything I could have done to stay in love with you - with you I wish I could say to you what you are to me but I know it would make you sad You are too good to be my lover ... You made my life so lovely I just had to mess it up If there was any way I could have known I would always need to be alone If there was anything I could have done to stay in love with you with you If I knew I'd do it twice just to make sure that I did it right If there was any way I could have known I would always need to be alone If there was anything I could have done to stay in love with you with you" -- Any Way, by Fisher "Do you always have to tell him everything On your mind? You know that too much honesty can be So unkind And every time you throw him to the floor Why are you surprised to see he's breakable? You always try to find what's holding him Away from you But do you ever see your anger standing there Right between you? And every time you throw him to the wall Why are you surprised to see he's breakable? Tell the world that he's breaking your heart Go tell the world nothing's ever your fault Go tell them all And every time you throw him to the floor Why are you surprised to see he's breakable? And every time you push him to the wall Why are you surprised to see he's breakable?" -- Breakable, by Fisher 15 October. Feast Day of the stigmatic St Teresa of Avila (1515-1582). In 1785 two English officers, Wynyard and Sherbroke, were reading in Wynward's room when a pale young boy walked in. Wynyard blanched and called out: 'Great God! My brother!' When the figure disappeared into the adjoining room, they followed, but it had gone. Some time later, it was discovered that the brother had died at the exact time the officers had seen the pale figure. Some years later, Sherbroke saw the same figure walking down Piccadilly, London; it turned out to be the dead boy's twin brother. Sunday, October 13, 2002
I'm not what you expected I'm feeling a bit rejected you blame it on looking out for my heart it's an excuse to avoid ending the start just because you think it will hurt like the others, try not to be so curt. Thursday, October 10, 2002
I will never inspire a great lyric poem... I will never have people quote my works on their away message... I will never be free of all my doubt... I will never be like you... I will never forget what Schopenhauer said about what you forfeit in order to be like other people... "That's what I love about high school girls, I get older, they stay the same age." -- Wooderson, in Dazed And Confused Wednesday, October 09, 2002
9 October. St Denis' Day. He walked to the grave carrying his head under his arm. As his name is sometimes given as Dionysus, his lineage is fairly obvious, especially as his two fellow martyrs' names are Rusticus and Eleutherius, alternative epithets for the earlier god. "music is worthless unless it can make a complete stranger break down, and cry" -- The Dumbing Down of Love, by Frou Frou Tuesday, October 08, 2002
8 October. In 1361, a French gentleman was murdered and buried under a tree. His dog stayed with him until driven away by hunger: it went to the house of his master's friend, grabbed him by the coat to make him follow, and led him back to the grave. Nobody was accused of the murder, but the next time the dog saw his dead master's enemy, Chevalier Macaire, it attacked him, and suspicion was aroused. Eventually a fight was arranged between the dog and the courtier in front of the king and the court in Paris. The dog won, and the Chevalier confessed and was put to death. --------------------------- how's that for loyalty? Monday, October 07, 2002
you make all my dreams expire; is it time for you to respire, roll your eyes, write me off again... the pain is never gone an emptiness that eats at me and makes me die every moment we're apart 7 October. On this day in 1793, the Sainte Ampoule, a small flask containing what was supposed to be the holy oil which had flowed from heaven onto the head of St Remy, was smashed in the Place Nationale, Paris on the pedestal of the statue of Louis XV in front of a crowd yelling 'Vive la Republique!' Drops of the oil had traditionally been used to anoint kings of France for over a thousand years. St Remy (c 438-533), whose Feast Day is 1 October, was appointed bishop of Reims at the age of 22. By tradition he baptised Clovis I, king of the Franks, on Christmas Day 496. Friday, October 04, 2002
"So this is odd, the painful realization that all has gone wrong. And nobody cares at all, and nobody cares at all. So you buried all your lover's clothes and burned the letters lover wrote, but it doesn't make it any better. Does it make it any better? And the plaster dented from your fist in the hall where you had your first kiss reminds you that the memories will fade. So this is strange, our sidestepping has come to be a brilliant dance where nobody leads at all, where nobody leads at all. And the picture frames are facing down and the ringing from this empty sound is deafening and keeping you from sleep. And breathing is a foreign task and thinking's just too much to ask and you're measuring your minutes by a clock that's blinking eights. This is incredible. Starving, insatiable, yes, this is love for the first time. Well, you'd like to think that you were invincible. Yeah, well weren't we all once before we felt loss for the first time. Well this is the last time." -- The Brilliant Dance, by Dashboard Confessional 4 October. Feast Day of St Francis of Assissi (1181-1226). In 1224, after a vision of the crucified Christ held by a six-winged seraph, St Francis developed bleeding holes in his hands and feet, greatly impressing witnesses including Pope Alexander IV. The marks looked like black nails which protruded considerably, as though a real nail pierced the limb with its point and head projecting either side. Domenica Lazzari exhibited a similar effect in the nineteenth century. There are over 300 recorded cases of stigmata, with a much larger incidence amongst women. Thursday, October 03, 2002
"The concept of "Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness" is enshrined in the documents upon which this nation of ours is supposedly founded. If the pursuit of happiness does not mean the right to experiment with your own state of mind, then those words aren't worth the hemp they're written on." -- Terence McKenna Wednesday, October 02, 2002
you won't read over these lines again the line's dead you can't come over the line again the line's been obscured in the sand I won't feel you pushing back again I'm not fine I can't forget all this pain I feel I'm never fine 2 October. Charles de Beaumont, the Chevalier d'Eon, French ambassador to the Court of St James, was born in 1728. He is the most famous transvestite in European history, to the extent that Havelock Ellis called cross-dressing 'Eonism'. The Chevalier served in the Seven Years' War before becoming a diplomat. From then on, he wore male and female clothes, as the mood took him, or his work as a spy dictated, and controversy raged over his sex. In the 1780s, he made a living in England as a female fencer. Not until his death in 1810 was he definitely shown to be a man. Tuesday, October 01, 2002
"Children of the future age Reading this indignant page Know that in a former time Love, sweet love, was called a crime" -- William Blake |
faeries have died because YOU haven't been clapping hard enough.