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Michelle
07 January 2011 @ 09:13 am
if you're not already a fan of tiger beatdown, you probably should be (warning for sexual assault triggers). i have very few words in response to that article which aren't thank you or yes yes yes.

a few select quotes for the lazy reader (*COUGH*archy_the_roach*COUGH*). same warning for triggers applies.Collapse )
 
 
Current Mood: enragedenraged
 
 
Michelle
14 November 2010 @ 05:53 pm
hello, f-list. i love you more than google, so i'm coming to you instead. (read: tried google, wasn't helpful, now i'm subjecting you all to sloppy seconds.)

does anyone know if there's a way to quickly install a moodtheme, without having to copy and paste every individual url of every image? i remember reading instructions for it years ago (although i don't like that expression because it makes me sound old), but i can't find anything on it now. does this method even exist anymore?
 
 
Current Mood: hopefulhopeful
 
 
Michelle
so, tonight i am feeling simultaneously sleepy and restless and am having difficulty reconciling the two. while i figure out whether it would be more appropriate to take a walk or go to bed, you all get to enjoy the guess-the-song meme! isn't that exciting? (random strangers who may be reading this, feel free to jump in.)

you know the rules: no fucking search engines, you goddamn cheating scoundrels.

eta: instead of striking out the correctly identified lyrics, i decided to tuck the song titles under a cut. so if you still want to play and you're late to the game, you can choose to ignore the answers. i'm so fucking courteous, i know.

WALL OF FAME YAYECollapse )


1. you ole fire/i'm mad with desire/you're my favorite one/got me cooking with the fever, got my love runnin' for the sun

2. and when i see the sign that points one way/a light i used to pass by every day

3. you could say i surrender on all fours/to some bright holy light from above/you could bravely be the first to spill this vile demon's blood

4. how many wasted days, wasted nights on you/i can't even count that high/haven't i tried to?

5. there are those boys with earthly eyes/their eyes are like the ground/you walk and walk, kicking up dirt/but they don't make a sound

6. on and on and on we'll be together, yeah/on and on and on we'll stay together, yeah

7. aren't you gonna come along/aren't you gonna fight/aren't you gonna hold your hands up to the light?

8. strange face with your eyes/so pale and sincere/underneath, you know well/you have nothing to fear

9. begin to hope and all the colors start to change/beneath the light, you might forget that the world's so sad

10. at the zombie dance/here's ben and betty/they tap their toes/but they don't get sweaty

11. when i'm at the pearly gates/this'll be on my videotape, my videotape

12. flew in from miami beach boac/didn't get to bed last night/on the way the paper bag was on my knee/man, i had a dreadful flight

13. give me smut and nothing but/a dirty novel i can't shut/if it's uncut and unsubt...le

14. prettiest world i know, stole away all the show/you are so easy to love/you are so hard to let go

15. out of the box, out of the kitchen/out of the world she's grown so fearful of

16. bustelo, marlboro/banana by the bunch/a box of captain crunch will taste so good

17. guardo il cielo e non vedo altro colore/solo grigio piombo che mi spegne il sole/l'unica certezza è gli occhi che io ho di te

18. here's the guy i'd like to thank/he signs the checks and leaves 'em blank/he's the one/he says, "you don't have to walk the plank/the game is rigged, go figure"

19. do i attract you/do i repulse you/with my queasy smile

20. my baby's out there/with his lantern searching for an honest man

21. it is a thursday/i get up early/it is a challenge/i'm usually lazy

22. i haven't fucked much with the past/but i've fucked plenty with the future

23. i found a reason/to keep living/oh, and the reason, dear, is you

24. my mind's not right my mind's not right my mind's not right my mind's not right

25. i'll sing it one last time for you/then we really have to go/you've been the only thing that's right/in all i've done
 
 
Current Mood: draineddrained
Current Music: i can barely look at you, but every single time i do
 
 
Michelle
someday in the not-too-distant future i will make some sort of substantive contribution to this hurr livejournal. today is not that day. in the meantime, you can:

Comment on this entry, and:

❶ I'll respond by asking you five questions to satisfy my curiosity.
❷ Update your journal with the answers to your questions.
❸ Include this explanation and offer to ask other people questions.


cascades, who is an utter nutball, gave me these questions:

1. REMEMBER BLUE-SKIDOO FROM BLUE'S CLUES? when blue could transport into pictures and books? well, if you could blue-skidoo into any book, which would you choose?
NO, ACTUALLY, I DON'T, BUT I'LL FORGIVE YOU YOUR TRESPASSES AND ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION. and it's a very good question at that, i have to say. lovely variation on the usual "with which character would you most like to chill?" deal. aaaand my aaaanswer iiis...tales from outer suburbia, by shaun tan. yes, it is a picture book; it's essentially magical realism for kids. and shit-wow, i wish that description could do it justice. magical realism restores a sense of wonder, so i feel odd applying it to a children's book, because when you're a kid, magic is commonplace anyway. archy_the_roach introduced me to this book a couple of months ago, well past my childhood, and still it moved me on a very visceral level; it curled its way deep underneath my skin, successfully hijacking the place i reserve for favorite songs and uncomfortably revealing dreams.

the following tangent doesn't answer this question, but as this is my livejournal, i shall abuse my memes however i see fit. the book that most successfully translated the world i inhabit into a tangible place is palimpsest, by catherynne m. valente. it feels like my own headspace reflected back to me, in all its ugliness and desperation and incandescence. palimpsest is a part of me, located somewhere just beyond tales from outer suburbia, somewhere within my ribcage, possibly.

i also really pathetically wish i could beam myself into shoebox_project, although that's not a book at all. it feels like home to me, in only the way your very favorite stories do. yes, i know it is a fucking fan fiction, and i lose all lit cred for admitting this. i am okay with that!

2. if you could choose to live in a different century, would you? or would you rather stay in the 21st?
fuck, no. i'm not big on romanticizing the past. humans do a pretty good job of fucking up the planet, but i remain (perhaps stupidly) a firm believer in progress. i want to continue to live just where i am and do whatever i can to bring the world a little closer to the place i believe it can be. we owe the past a lot: everything we have now, in fact. it'd be an insult to want to shave off a few decades. reminds me of holden caulfield on his merry-go-round, caught in a loop and still looking perpetually backwards. to that image, i say: no, thank you. i want to go forward. because do you know what we have now? MOTHERFUCKING JETPACKS. suck on that.

3. have you ever wanted to have any kind of exotic pet? (i always wanted a wolf when i was little.)
i want a tarantula! no, seriously. i do believe that counts as exotic. and i'll be boring and confess that when i was little, i totally wanted a dragon. still do, because i am the muggle incarnation of hagrid. although the former desire is a bit likelier to be fulfilled than the latter.

4. when you retire as an old wrinkly lady, what do you want to do with your free time?
accumulate wrinkles. play bingo; use the panoply of medications i'll undoubtedly be on as markers. laugh at my hideously disfigured tattoos. have many spiders as pets. run amok. naked, preferably. be the nut in the neighborhood all the little kids are terrified of.

5. do you have any sort of ~security blanket~ that you keep around from when you were little? mine is a stuffed animal, a goat named djali. FROM THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME, REMEMBER? esmeralda's pet goat. he has an earring! he's pretty bamf.
ONCE AGAIN, NO I DO NOT REMEMBER, BUT THANKS FOR TRYING. security blanket? you mean like a straitjacket? some of my friends would argue that i need one of those these days. i, um. don't have an actual remnant from childhood on hand? because i have no soul. well, okay, i did have this purple stuffed dog (creatively named "peace") that i used as a sort of talisman. i've yet to hand her over to the EVILS OF SUNNYSIDE throw or give her away, so that may say something about the state of my immortal soul (mostly that it's comprised of 100% pure unadulterated LAZINESS).

speaking of the sorry state of my soul, the latest regina spektor song manages to make me weep every. damn. time. and i've listened to it like twenty times at this point. it's slowly becoming tiresome. you should download it and join me in my blubbering! (and i do recognize the irony in my inadvertently prefacing this paean to childhood with an anti-holden caulfield rant. do i have my holden moments? yup. do i want to be holden caulfield? hell, no, bitches.)

lyrics, for posterity. also because they're fucking gorgeous.Collapse )
 
 
Current Mood: tiredwhy am i not asleep
Current Music: but the cold does get cold
 
 
Michelle
10 July 2010 @ 12:17 am
dear internet:

if you are looking for trenchant commentary upon the inner-workings of humanity from a voluptuous and beautiful young woman, then you should read the livejournal of my dear friend, archy_the_roach. i have accomplished getting my fabulous rl friend phoebe to join the recesses of livejournal by alternately threatening her with physical harm and proffering sexual favors (the latter of which she vehemently declined). now she's harassing me into pimping her shit, so i suppose i shall perpetuate the cycle of affable abuse by commanding you to go friend the shit out of her, okay? just do it. or you'll displease tiny turtle. and no one wants that.

with love and death threats,
ellie
 
 
Current Mood: giddygiddy
 
 
Michelle
i have tickets. to see the national. in september. brain short-circuiting from excitement. facebook status-esque, truncated sentences have ensued. somebody send back-up. AUGH *explodes*

oh yeah, and one more thing: dear f-list? can i entrust you to showcase my incoherency to the world? hook me up with some disconcertingly logical raving lunatics. or something. go! enjoy the delusion of control of my life, when in fact you serve only MY ends. that's right, bitches. world domination happens one wildly incoherent blog post at a time. \o/

OMG BE BFF WITH
 
 
Current Mood: giddy*inexpressible glee*
Current Music: "the geese of beverly road," by the national
 
 
Michelle
31 May 2010 @ 02:37 pm
i had to share this post. i officially declare it Required Reading if you know someone who lives with a mental illness or a personality order. (which you do if you are reading this post right now, so HAH THAT MEANS YOU HAVE TO READ IT. YOU HAVE BEEN COMMANDED BY THE CRAZY.) (also, you probably also know someone who is not me with a mental illness or personality disorder, even if you don't know it, just 'cause statistics say so. WE WALK AMONG YOU.)
 
 
Current Mood: accomplishedI AGREE SO MUCH IT HURTS
Current Music: i know this one! i love this song!
 
 
Michelle
there's a difference between empathy and compassion. it's easy to be empathetic, even natural, because all you have to do is have lived and retain the ability to recognize yourself in others. empathy flourishes over distance, but compassion is something more immediate and much more difficult to develop. i can empathize infinitely, but actually offering up compassion for another human being takes a lot of work. i can be moved by someone else's tribulations; i can feel terrible and write poetry and wish there were something more substantial i could do; i begin also to empathize with the prayerful. but i don't know if it's possible to extend real compassion to anyone other than the people with whom i am absolutely closest. if i call up the estranged aunt with the dying sister, would she receive it as a hollow gesture? or would it be awkward, a hopelessly tangled situation? if i do call her, it's more about her relationship to me than it is to her sister. does it bring comfort to develop new ties when old ones are severed, or does it merely augment the absence?

i can donate money to relief programs for the poor and the hungry; i can join organizations and try to make the world a better place. i will do these things, but compassion drives none of them. i can't even say empathy plays a part, because although i have lived through some horrible things, i have no way of approximating how these people feel because my experiences are completely separate from theirs. my desire to do what i can to heal the earth has a lot more to do with a desire to be useful, to create a purpose for myself, to touch something with my own hands and hope to be able to say, "i've made this better, because i was here." there's a lot of selfishness wrapped up in charity. i don't feel like i am a better or worse person because of it, necessarily. isn't that all anyone can do? figure out what is best, put your ideas forth into actions, with no real way of knowing what their consequences will be, and hope for the best. i have yet to construct a better plan of action.

empathy burns most strongly for my closest friends and family members, and even sometimes for livejournal friends. (there's something to be said for proffering your intimate thoughts to perfect strangers.) compassion follows naturally, but i've noticed that it still takes a bit of work to actually put forth. compassion is more than an expression of condolences, or a nod of the head. it's forcing yourself to feel with another human being, not for them. it involves offering your most honest thoughts and as much of your time as you are able to. maybe the desire to mend ties and build sanctuaries comes from reading too many novels: i devote so much energy to empathizing with fictional people and their fictional worlds that i need some palpable outlet for all that healing energy. and healing energy is what it is, i think.

but compassion is what makes lives worth living, isn't it? it's love made tangible. it's that little moment where you just go, "ah. right. okay. that's what i'm doing here." it's the reason for, and the zenith of, all the best friendships. i've made a lot of those really impossibly great friendships lately, and i'm sort of bewildered as to how i got here. bewildered, but also grateful. it's a good one to be in, this place.

i don't mean to sound supercilious here at all, and i hope i don't sound too sentimental (impossible not to be at least slightly sentimental, when talking about compassion and love, but i am too much of a hopeless sap to be bothered by this). i don't mean to imply a universal "you" either. yeah, this is one of those posts: by "you," i mean "me." i just...had this thought, about the difference between empathy and compassion, and i wanted to get it down, see if anyone else thinks i'm making any sense or if i am just talking out my ass.
 
 
Current Mood: thoughtfulthoughtful
Current Music: "Anyone's Ghost," by the National
 
 
Michelle
1

The story of the end, of the last word
of the end, when told, is a story that never ends.
We tell it and retell it--one word, then another
until it seems that no last word is possible,
that none would be bearable. Thus, when the hero
of the story says to himself, as if to someone far away,
"Forgive them, for they know not what they do,"
we may feel that he is pleading for us, that we are
the secret life of the story and, as long as his plea
is not answered, we shall be spared. So the story
continues. So we continue. And the end, once more,
becomes the next, and the next after that.
 
 
Current Mood: coldoh
 
 
Michelle
08 April 2010 @ 06:30 pm
i believe the kids are callin' it a rec post these days? at any rate, i commanded cool_rain_kiss to go read the things they carried and she demanded i make her a rec post. because apparently Our Modern World is too frightfully harumscarum to carry around the memory of ONE lousy book title. that's fine with me, cool_rain_kiss. i will make you a rec post. and then i will facebook message you. and then i will tweet you every ten seconds. and then i will record a youtube video of me yelling at you. and then i will youtwitface your sorry ass.

without further preamble:

dear world/f-list of two_grey_rooms/mostly cool_rain_kiss,

you should consider picking up a copy of the things they carried, by tim o'brien, if you never have (i know it's A Modern Classic* and a high-school curriculum favorite). it is about the vietnam war, but more truthfully it's a story about the brittle, strangely redemptive place where lives intersect with language; what happens to the human heart after it survives something unimaginably horrible; the obdurate fibers of memory which keep us looking back; and the mutable nature of truth. also, rat kiley is one of my absolute favorite characters in all of literature. you might want to meet him.

if you do read or have read this book, talk to me.

*OXYMORON AHOY!
 
 
Current Mood: sicksick