Post Whatever You Are Thinking At This Very Moment

someone told me i had nice eyeballs today which i thought was funny. at first she said i had nice eyes but then she seemed the need to clarify that (maybe so i didnt think she meant my saggy eyelids are nice) and said "like, you have nice eyeballs". i laughed and said "nice eyeballs? i've never heard anyone say that before" and she was just like "yeah" as though it wasnt weird. well, not that i mind. ive always been rather terrified of getting sickly gross muddy looking eyeballs like so many people have, so it's nice to hear that i dont (yet).
Sorry, but that is a weird compliment. That's like saying you've got nice elbows or nostrils. But still, we all need eyeballs and it's good that you have nice ones.
 
oh pep, i got my coat! it's ammaaaaazzziiiiiing. at first when i took it out of the bag i was like "oh..." because it's the colour of a burlap sack stained with dried blood, but marni coats tend to have the transformative power of fairy tale coats that become something entirely different when you put them on. even though the colour makes me look a bit sallow, at the same time i recognize that the coat wouldnt be as good if it were any other colour and the shape is absolutely perfect, and the look of it is both a bit rustic-y like something the mouse girl would wear, and 1950's ballerina elegant, which is to say it is THE PERFECT COAT. now i am content. finding a marni coat is like finding yourself again. it is the only thing for when you find yourself living in a nightmare dystopian world. i think im going to include a chapter in my memoir on marni coats because they are SO much a part of me. it is like consuelo castiglione has seen into my soul and given me back a visual representation using bits of tailored cloth.
Wow. You got all that from a coat? I am in awe. See, here's the thing: I am very happy that it's made you so happy. And I get the 1950s vibe (even I spotted that). And I enjoyed the 'burlap sack stained with dried blood' description. But I just don't get it. I went on the Marni website. WTF? Why are all those women so angry? It didn't do much to sell me the clothes which, I'll be honest, were not my cup of peppermint tea anyway. I just don't think I understand fashion.

But it did make me think, have you never wanted to start a fashion blog? You seem to know a lot about it, and once you have followers you can get money from advertisers.
 
For everything I do say
Ever so casually
There is a heavy chest
The recounting
Of acts
That will never see the light of day
For I am a coward
And no one would take heed anyway
 
i can feel myself going through a particularly bad spell at the moment my excessknows no bounds ive fallen forlorn in the street but then if id rolled in a hay field it would likely have been considered poetic.its not my fault that tarmac was the only viable option

Happens to us all.
 
Happens to us all.

Keep your dull as dishwater, rapid fire, low effort posts away from the off-topic section of this forum, thanks. We see enough of you in your dozens of daily posts on the Morrissey news section of this website. We don't need you here as well. This particular thread is testing enough as it is without adding you to the fray, so jog on you one dimensional hack.
 
In the morning
My throat will loosen up
Just the facts ma'am
I will hurl
On my tablet words will trickle
But only the easy stuff
Will come out
The complicated
The unbelievable
The truly frightening
Will stay locked inside
For how would I explain
And how could I dare
At best they'd say
Schizophrenic fantasy
Unless it happens to them one day
 
Anxiety
Because you're a tease
Words trickle
From frozen water
With nowhere to go
I'm a popsicle
With nowhere to melt
 
What I wrote today, continuing from above:

One time, I was hopping around in Chris’s apartment, laughing and teasing him with my words. To me, I was being good natured, but he, didn’t take it that way. He flung a wooden cutting board into my thigh. Charlie and his new girlfriend Catherine came out to Vancouver from Montreal, and Catherine at one point stuck her tongue down my throat. Another time, I saw her pilfering Chris’s change jar. I remember she often said she could die for a hamburger. I was vegetarian at the time, and was disgusted to hear such a pretty girl lust to eat cow corpses.

To be continued…

Catherine was Charlie’s new girlfriend, and they were visiting for a few months from Montreal. Catherine at one point stole a big heavy TV, and carried it to Chris’s place. Charlie was a habitual thief. I used to help him steal in supermarkets, by stuffing his wheelchair compartments or something, but when it came to mom and pop stores, I couldn’t stomach it, and refused to go into those stores with him. At first, I’d get him to promise he wouldn’t steal anything, before going into one with him, but he’d end up doing it anyway, so I started refusing to go into those stores with him.

Now, with Catherine as his new partner in crime, they stole a guitar, TV, etc., and I was afraid for Chris, because at the time, he was living off the interest of his settlement for his spinal cord injury. I sensed danger, in Charlie and Catherine possibly predating on him for his loot. They got an apartment near Chris’s, got kicked out of there, got another apartment nearby, and then left, after a few months, to go back east toward Montreal. Before they left, and before they got an apartment of their own, they would crowd into Chris’s apartment, and they’d all be smoking, in his bachelor sized place. It was stultifying. They would sleep in the van.

One night, I was feeling ill, and for some reason Catherine picked me up and carried me, from one place to another in the apartment, and she was rough about it. I really disliked her from then on. Chris used to call me up and ask me to come over, to drive Charlie and Catherine out, but I also remember he used to then, once that job was done, kick me out, in the pouring rain, in the middle of the night. I’d have to ride my bicycle home. This happened several times.

Once, I saw Charlie’s new dog, a Rottweiler named Omen, rub against Charlie’s wheel, and Charlie punched her in the stomach for it. This was in front of everyone but no one else noticed. Another time, I said something Charlie didn’t like, and he chased me around a coffee table for a few minutes in a rage. Same old same old. He treated me a lot better as Chris’s girlfriend than his own though. I overheard Charlie tell Chris, that he was about to punch Catherine, and he marvelled, that she just walked into the punch. I’d warned her, before I met her, over the phone when she was still in Montreal, that Charlie was violent, but she answered that Charlie would never do anything to hurt her.

After Catherine finally packed up the van to head back east, Chris got a phone call from Charlie, saying that Catherine got pregnant by some guy, and that her taut body was no longer, and that Omen had been left to starve in an apartment while Charlie was incarcerated, and had eaten the springs in a couch. I think he was probably lying, but I don’t know.


Chris used to tell me often, that I was a basket case, a burden that Charlie had dumped on him. So one day I called him up to give him the good news that I had found someone else I wanted to be with. His name was Alwyn. Chris blew a gasket, telling me that I couldn’t just leave him, and that he would track Alwyn down and hurt him if I did. I believed him, and stayed in the relationship with him, so he wouldn’t hurt Alwyn.

I became deliberately boring, and heavily flirted with every man I could, to throw him off Alwyn’s trail. We went to the Cambie pub in those days, and I remember holding hands with one man, Paul, who took me seriously, and was furious at me in the end for leading him on. Eventually, being deliberately dull worked. Chris threw up his hands, and exclaimed “What am I holding onto you for?”, and I was free. Suddenly it was safe to feel again. It was like coming down to earth after spending time weightless. My emotional muscles were weak. I didn’t know how to handle having emotions anymore.

I was going to another women’s employment course at this time, and working as a telemarketer. I started wanting to get laid in earnest. I went after my male coworkers, at parties after work. I wound up in a bathroom stall, with a stranger. I ended up bedding one young man from work who was bleeding from his urethra. I called an ambulance for him I think. He said he probably had cracked ribs. From what, I don’t know, but once he told the other guys that I’d put out, they started calling me in the middle of the night, and I could see I was out of control. I quit the job, and told them I had gotten back together with my boyfriend. It was a lie.

To be continued…
 
Sorry, but that is a weird compliment. That's like saying you've got nice elbows or nostrils. But still, we all need eyeballs and it's good that you have nice ones.
haha yeah, it struck me as a bit serial killerish, like next she was going to say that she'd like to hold them in her hands or something. however, there is nothing serial killerish about her, so it was okay. and in any case, im not really opposed to weird compliments. actually im the very type of person who would compliment someone on their elbows, or conversely write someone off completely if i felt they had bad elbows. elbows like wrists are VERY telling.
 
Wow. You got all that from a coat? I am in awe. See, here's the thing: I am very happy that it's made you so happy. And I get the 1950s vibe (even I spotted that). And I enjoyed the 'burlap sack stained with dried blood' description. But I just don't get it. I went on the Marni website. WTF? Why are all those women so angry? It didn't do much to sell me the clothes which, I'll be honest, were not my cup of peppermint tea anyway. I just don't think I understand fashion.

But it did make me think, have you never wanted to start a fashion blog? You seem to know a lot about it, and once you have followers you can get money from advertisers.
okay, so that made me have to go to the marni site to see what you were seeing since i have not kept up with new marni at all, it being so vastly out of my price range.to be honest, the stuff im seeing doesnt really grab me either. seems the founder of marni has left, which could be the reason, but in truth marni was only really special in it's early years (2001 - 2005--so much so that it became an instant sensation with every piece from those early shows being infinitely collectable). i would say the best marni season of all time would be spring 2003, shown here if you're interested (you have to click on 'collection' to see all the looks):


something about those prints that they used, the one below being my FAVOURITE print of all time out of which i own both a skirt and a shirt (but which are in storage in vancouver and who knows if ill ever see then again, if they havent gone moldy and bed bugs havent gotten into them waaaaahhh).


it's had a few good moments since then (post 2005), as seen below:







but nothing like the magic it once had.

and YES, i got all of that from a coat!! if a coat doesnt tell me a million different things at once im simply not interested!

well, i mean, although a fashion blog would be fun, i dont think im a great candidate for one, because 1) i dont like getting my picture taken, 2) i dont really know THAT much (most of the time i just make stuff up and have no idea whether it's accurate or not, trusting that no one else will either), and 3) as mentioned before i just sort of like individual pieces, im not invested enough to create outfits and whatnot (for instance, my legendary disinterest in shoes which might have me pairing the chicest dress with holey tennis shoes). plus i dont know ANYTHING about creating a blog, the technical bits, plus what if i had no followers?! that would be so awkward!!
 
I'm not seeing Robert Smith but curiously, I am seeing Morrissey. You know, all that lolling around on the floor with gladioli sticking out of his pocket the way he used to do in his younger days.
oh yeah, the life is a pigsty performance!!

but i do think the bear has something of robert smiths proportions and his not very deft movements...robert smith has always reminded me a bit of someone who never learned to use their hands as a baby
 
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