“They may forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel.”  Carl W. Buechner
“Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.” Oscar Wilde
“Passion, it lies in all of us, sleeping... waiting... and though unwanted... unbidden... it will stir... open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us... guides us... passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love... the clarity of hatred... and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion maybe we'd know some kind of peace... but we would be hollow... Empty rooms shuttered and dank. Without passion we'd be truly dead.” Joss Whedon
“Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you've got to say, and say it hot.”  D.H. Lawrence
“We all need to look into the dark side of our nature - that's where the energy is, the passion. People are afraid of that because it holds pieces of us we're busy denying.” Sue Grafton
You taught me to be nice, so nice that now I am so full of niceness, I have no sense of right and wrong, no outrage, no passion.  Garrison Keillor
A man who has not passed through the inferno of his passions has never overcome them  Carl Gustav Jung
It is a revenge the devil sometimes takes upon the virtuous, that he entraps them by the force of the very passion they have suppressed and think themselves superior to.  George Santayana

I was looking up a sound term for my senior theatre project today, and I found a website that webhosts a free voicemail service where a person can check their voicemail from either a website or their email and save the audio files. This intrigued me, and sounded suspiciously like espionage (although in reality businesses probably use it as a disposable phone number for some project or employment recruiting or something boring like that), so I signed up for one and did a test message from my cell phone. It worked. This made me happy. Then the wheels in my head kept turning, and suddenly I was thinking about creating an entire experimental story-album with that account, sending myself cryptic or poetic voicemails, and editing them until they made something amazing and wonderful and 80 minutes long to fit on a CDR. Lately my indignant former ex-analogitarian has been pulling me in the direction of making electronic social traps, uh, I mean, social networking sites, fodder for my artistic bends, as can be witnessed on these microblogging sites:
http://angelwingfive.posterous.com/ http://www.plurk.com/angelwingfive
http://identi.ca/angelwingfive/all http://angelwingfive.podbean.com
http://angelwingfive.jaiku.com/ http://twitter.com/angelwingfive

Thought I might not think about too hard, because it might get me in trouble: seeking out landline phones, whenever I come in contact with one, and leaving a message somewhat like this:
(Still transcoding, dammit!)

And track it on K7.net under the phone number 206-339-7127 (By the way, if you want to help, think of something clever or cryptic and you can leave a message at this number. It doesn't cost anything more than standard rates. You have unlimited time, I'm pretty sure, to leave your message, the automated system waits for you two seconds after you finish to cut you off.)
Future reference: the ac adapter for the concertmate 990 is a Radio Shack Adapter 273-1770 (even though the website says it doesn't exist. Wow, I'm using lots of parentheses in this post. Parentheses are kind of like sex.)
Edit: I just realized that I said "former ex-analogitarian". Nice use of redundancy.

Today, the universal subconscious has pretty much told itself "Why don't we try mislogic? It's loads of fun, and supplies the maximum daily amount of maple syrup.".
What good is a glass cutter that will barely score a line in plastic? That wasn't rhetorical.
Last night was odd for me. I was a girl in Bachelorland, which is not as sexy as it should have been. It was more realizing that a women, no matter how low-maintenance she claims to be, will never top the average man in the not-being-prepared-for-everyday-life game. Seriously. Nice new apartment (them): two cold pizzas and a wide-screen television with nothing hooked up to it. Old, crappy dorm-like apartment (me): Has pretty much everything to survive, including kitchenware, first-aid supplies, towels, things for comfort, toiletries. In fact, the boyfriend had to borrow a few things from me just to make it through the night last night. I used to think I understood men. Now I understand that I'll never understand

... And they said this shit was fake...

How can I find inspiration for my art?

	The Creative Process spread is designed specifically to peer into the nature of a project or creative undertaking, and shine a spotlight on the evolution of its parts. The Curious Tarot is the rarest and most unusual of modern decks. The cards form a surreal collage of American consumer imagery, eerily capturing the archetypes of the atomic age. It is the deck of those who seek to harness the ancient tribal energy that courses through the modern urban world. There are only 100 Curious Tarot decks in existence - if you want one, buy it now!
	The significator, not shown, is the card you have chosen to embody the project and the focus of the reading. The High Priestess: A pure, exalted and gracious influence. Education, knowledge, wisdom, and esoteric teachings. The forces of nature. Intuition, foresight, and spiritual revelation of the most mysterious and arcane sort.
	The card in the middle represents the creative force behind the project, be it a person, organization, or other entity. Death, when reversed: Stagnation or petrifaction. The refusal to let go of the past. Resistance to change because of fear.
	The card on the top represents imagination - the prophetic image that stems from the creative force of the previous card to initiate the project. This is the poetry or voice of the undertaking. Knight of Swords, when reversed: The dark essence of air behaving as fire, such as a tornado: A merciless and skillful warrior, unfettered by emotion or conscience. A nihilist who can refuse not even the most insurmountable of challenges. A person who inspires fear and hate through their domineering nature and the power of their presence. Speaking without tact or tolerance, in a sarcastic manner. May portend the swift initiation or conclusion of conflict, through the calamitous invocation of force.
	The card on the left represents emotion - the feelings aroused by or surrounding the ideation of the project that takes place in the previous card. This is the music or scent of the undertaking. The Lovers: A caring and trusting relationship. Beauty and inner harmony. A decision calling for emotional control and faithfulness to spiritual values.
	The card on the bottom represents thought - the analytical process of organizing the project and capturing the emotional content of the previous card. This is the science or vision of the undertaking. The Empress: The essence of femininity and matriarchy. Creativity, productivity, and the foundation of civilization. Initiative and practical actions that promote prosperity, comfort and luxury. Fruitfulness and motherhood.
	The card on the right represents manifestation - the real work involved in completing the project, and the form it will take upon culmination. This is the painting or touch of the undertaking. Justice, when reversed: Lack of balance, harmony and integrity. The suspension of action until a decision is made. Lawsuits and prosecutions. Unjust decisions and the consequences of those decisions. A turn for the worse in legal matters.

Post-apocalyptic films have become very popular lately among my circle of friends. I blame Twelve Monkeys. And the zombies. Damn Zombies.
I've been on this odd natural kick lately. I've been eating a lot of brown rice and trying to "cleanse" myself. I feel a lot better, sure, but I have a feeling that in a few weeks I'm going to try to grow a beard and join the peace corp. I already did that once this lifetime, I didn't think it was possible a second time.
Scissors are an appliance that you don't really notice until you suddenly can't find any laying about. And when they're gone, is the precise time that you notice that you need your bangs trimmed, and that you have a box of pop-ice taunting you in the freezer but no way to get into the frozen sweetness. *Sigh*
Experiment: forcing myself to disconnect this computer from the internet for a while, use this computer as a storage/art/writing/porn entity, and sporadically using the library and/or the boyfriend computer. If it works, and my life is much less complicated, like it was when I lived at home and wrote posts and such on notebook paper, then I will keep it as is. If it turns out that I can't live without internet and wind up driving Micah insane by asking to check my facebook every hour, then I will seriously have to rethink my life, or maybe grow a beard and join the peace corp. (Or just hook the computer up to the internet, with a grand display of remorse for being so reliant on the grid for my happiness.)
Is there ever a "good" kind of itchy? Like, poison ivy rashes that don't sting, but just kind of tickle? Or a type of itching where scratching actually brings relief, instead of more itchiness?

Current mood:bitchy

So, um, happy 420 day.
I have a lot of problems with marijuana, besides the fact that it cost me a lot health-wise in just a few puffs of a dangerous mix. To me, it's a political and philosophical thing. Yes, smoking weed mellows you out, but it also makes you socially cloister yourself from those that don't smoke. The people that smoke somehow feel this sense of unearned familyhood, just by doing something illegal together. An entire culture is built, a language. And, hell, don't get me started on those that feel that toking (you'd have to understand literature to even get what toking means) is some huge rebellion. I had a girl recently get in my face for not wanting to smoke just by saying "there are two kinds of people. There are those that are green and go after money, they're capitalists. And then there are those that are against the system, the communists, they go after the [insert hand gesture]. I wanted to tell her what I really thought: that stoners, dealers, and individual cities rely on each other to meet their needs. The cities get their money from fines and other fees brought about by the arresting of dealers, middlemen, and doers. That doesn't sound like a rebellion to me, that sounds like a crock of shit.

So, a friend of mine read my rant and had this to say about it, which is what I would have made this post sound like had I not been surrounded by the bad kind of stoners for the past few months and made me indignant and crazy:"It's not about rebellion or familyhood unless the person is fifteen,more money could be made through taxation, and there are peopleperfectly capable of functioning in society who understand it is onlyto be used in a time frame which would be suitable to imbibe drinks.Most weed-smokers refuse to touch the type of mixture which hurt you.The people you refer to tend to be under 21, undereducated, andimmature. The two types of people statement probably came from one ofthese people, and you shouldn't allow her example to alter your opinionof respectable stoners such as Jon Stewart, Ron Paul, Ben Stein,Barrack Obama, Bill Clinton or William Shakespeare."

The dirty hippie in me honed in on a site for activism on topics concerning sex, sexual health, reproduction, and education. I found it very interesting and I think I might hang out on the site and try to do some good there. Sex is something that should not have to make people suffer en masse.
http://www.amplifyyourvoice.org/main.cfm?s=amplify
http://oshikukubasketproject.org/
Tomorrow: the anthropology lecture of supreme awesomeness. I'm actually getting up early on a Saturday for this, it's so amazing. Which means I will probably invariably be disappointed and wish I had stayed in bed.
And then a really odd activism site that I had no idea needed activisming. I just made that word up, I think. Maybe.
http://www.facesofinfluenza.org

And now I am doomed to have that song stuck in my head forever. Sigh.
Last night I had an odd sort of musical thought, an idea for a song, with a cello, an organ, a chorus singing in Latin, and one person singing the words in English "We are burning on the altar/ Hoping the smoke reaches past the ceiling/ That our prayers rise above our hands". I used to do that all the time, figure out a scene based on a song. But I haven't done that in years, and certainly not with words I just made up on the spot. Hell, they don't rhyme, and the meter is off. I can make a song out of the sentiment, but just not verbatim.
Trying trying trying to stop the stress. So far... nothing.
There is a point when a running inside joke stops being funny. For me it is much sooner than the actual run of the joke.
Odd pick up line from a 17-year-old in khaki overalls: "How much does a polar bear weigh? Enough to break the ice."
http://www.fictionpost.com/forums/member.php?u=2278

Or, more likely, just a mental health day for me. Theatre has been making me a bit, um, insane this week. Exhibit A: this morning I woke up and my jaw, teeth, and right cheek had shooting pains running through it. Apparently in the night I had been clenching my jaw, and actually incorporated the pain into my dream. Normal people do not do this, I understand... And it was probably somewhat due to that damned sofa that I had to re-upholster with a stapler, a very limited swath of fabric, and no hard surfaces to catch the staples in and ensure that some stray piece of metal would not catch on a costume or jam itself into an actor's ass.
On an only slightly related note, I hate cucumbers now. With a blind burning passion.
I remember when Good Friday meant something to me. It used to be a beautiful religious experience for me. I used to fast. I used to do things to get ready for Easter. Now I either let it pass almost unnoticed, or listen to a lecture about how Christianity is truly a pagan religion, and this holiday was an example of this, shedding of blood and all that.
I want to write down every dream I've ever dreamed under a clear night sky and mail them to a monastery in Greece. Then I want the monks to ask me what this means, and I will tell them the analogy of the angel wings.

Wikipedia just likes to dissect basic concepts, don't they? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Love
So, I think I want to be able to marry people in Arkansas, or any other state, in any religion they choose. Perhaps paganism. Perhaps Zen Buddhism. Perhaps the religion of William Shatner. But, to do this, I would have to become an ordained minister in that religion, and have the ordination papers filed with the state office. Damn. So, this means that I will have to go and figure out how to become an ordained minister... of, like, thirty-seven different alternative religions. And... go...
While we are still on the subject, I think I want to require each person around me thinking of getting married to read The Ballad of Reading Gaol by Oscar Wilde before they say the big "I do". If they are both deep enough to understand the text, and yet strong enough in their affections to still say "but love is...", then they are ready for marriage.