vane is sacred

You may have noticed...

2011-08-22T08:41:00.001-07:00

... that I no longer post here. If you know where to find me, baby, I'm still around. Just follow the moonlit barefoot dancing trail of kissed lips and the smell of rain & oak, down down down to me.

rain

2010-04-16T21:55:00.000-07:00

Okay, are you ready? Let's try that again.

A quiet, steady rain was falling, the kind that’ll soak a man to the skin and send a chill straight into his bones before he ever notices. It’s always raining in this damn city.

I flicked my cigarette into the gutter as I stepped out into the street, raising the collar of my coat against the drizzle. No use trying to keep it lit out here. It bounced once off the wet pavement, scattering sparks, and then extinguished itself in the gutter. The only really warm light disappeared with it.

Buildings loomed up on either side, almost featureless in the rain. A few shiny black hulks of cars here and there, but no people. Wide yellowish halos surrounded each of the streetlights, pushing back the gloom all the more for the black clouds pouring rain down on them. The part of my brain that still noticed these things registered that it might have been pretty. The rain was so quiet, the only sound you heard was water dripping off eaves and pouring down drainpipes. It was surreal and I liked it that way. Helps a man think. In a city like this, we take what we can get.

And I had a lot of thinking to do. The phone had rung earlier this morning than I’d have liked. I was sleeping at the office again, or I’d have missed it. Times are tough all over. I answered it with a growl.

“You sound ugly, Mr. Ginn.” The man’s voice was smooth in contrast, and smooth anyway. I guessed he was in his fifties, maybe older.

“I look even better. Who’s this?”

“Grey. General Robert Grey.” I suddenly felt a little more awake. The Greys were one of those old families. Those old, wealthy families. I’d never met them, but I’d sure heard about their money. The knowledge coloured my reply.

“How can I help you, General Grey?”

“It’s my son, James.” I didn’t know a thing about him, except that he was pretty, and kept a prettier thing by his side. Man, I was behind. I told him so.

“Times are tough.” I appreciated that, coming from him. “My son was into some pretty mean stuff, Mr. Ginn.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir, but if it’s a counsellor you’re looking for I’m not your man.”

“He doesn’t need counselling. He’s dead. Shot to death outside his home, two nights ago.” The smooth voice didn’t waver. Whatever his reason for calling, it wasn’t grief.

“Now that’s something I can work with. You want me to find out who.”

“That’s how these things go, isn’t it?” He wasn’t really asking. A fan of the genre, I guessed. It was, and I didn’t mind him knowing it. He told me he’d have his man drop the crime scene photos by my office later in the day. He was in a hurry, and didn’t know anything besides. He told me that he’d suspected his son had been into something shady. The family had money, but the General was old-fashioned and thought his son had better work for what he wanted. Unfortunately, it never seemed little Jim Grey did much work, at least of the honest kind. He said the last time he saw James the boy seemed troubled, looked over his shoulder more than the General thought appropriate. He said he suspected James’ widow—and he warned me about her. “He didn’t think she knew it, but James was thinking of leaving her. She’s fine, make no mistake. But she’s one of the those thinking broads, you know the type. You watch her.”

A dead man and a thinking broad. I didn’t know what to make of it.

The photos turned up early in the afternoon. I was just waking up for the second time and I missed Grey’s man. Marlowe wound around my feet as I brought the manila envelope upstairs. His blue-grey fur was nearly black with wet; he’d taken to sitting on the fire escape, even in the rain. I got the feeling he was keeping an eye on the streets for me.

I laid the photos out on the floor. In them, a youngish man was sprawled face-down on a square of wet pavement, his clothes visibly soaked with rain. His right hand was extended outward; he’d been reaching for something when the bullet hit, a few inches back from his left ear. The rain had done me a favour with the wound; washed clean of blood I could see that it’d been a small-calibre bullet, probably fired at close range. That bothered me. It was a clean shot to the head, and that smacked of professional work, but something about it didn’t sit right. More photos showed me that the body had been found just outside the door to a large, stately sort of brick-walled house, but there was no other evidence left after the rain. A cobbled path led away from the house to a garage, and beyond that, to a gate set in the high hedges that surrounded the yard. There wasn’t much else to see, and the little page of notes with the photos didn’t tell me much. The wife had phoned in the murder just after 10:30; he’d been dead for about half an hour. There wasn’t much else to see. It had stormed that night. Chances are the thunder had covered up the sound of a gunshot. Hell, it was likely James Grey hadn’t ever heard the gunman come up behind him. And the driving rain would’ve obscured the scene from anyone who might have been watching. Perfect night for a murder.

My head was starting to hurt. Nothing I’d seen or heard so far held anything for me, so I decided it was time to pay Grey’s widow a visit. I found the address easy enough, and it was only a short miserable drive through the rain away. I arrived in time for tea. There was an officer’s car on the street and I spoke to the man inside briefly. He knew my name. Once we got the pleasantries out of the way, he told me about the witness. Accommodating guy.

“Saw a woman in a dark coat leavin’ the yard around 10. A brunette, he said. Couldn’t be sure of much with all that rain. Not long after, Mrs. Grey returned home. He figures she came back to the house on foot, shot her husband, and then walked back to her car and drove home—y’know, to throw anyone off that might’a seen her. I’m s’posed to keep an eye.” I thanked him and continued on.

The house was even more impressive from the front: clearly expensive, but not showy. The hedges I’d seen in the photos wrapped all the way around to the front of the house, where a matching gate sealed the yard off from the street. It wasn’t locked. I let myself in. A familiar wide cobbled path led from the gate to the house, and then away around the side under a big oak tree. I followed it until I found myself in the scene of the crime. The rain washed the red of the brick and the green of the yard out so that there wasn’t much difference between what I saw now and what I’d seen in the photos. The only thing missing was the dead man, and I tipped my hat to the empty step nonetheless. My own inspection revealed nothing I hadn’t seen in the photos: there was nothing here to see. I cursed the rain for the millionth time.

Maybe I cursed a little too loud. The door creaked open, and a woman’s wary voice greeted me.

“I don’t mind the rain so much.” The side of her I could see in the doorway was pretty fine indeed. She looked evenly at me with wide, intelligent grey eyes framed by long lashes, her expression unreadable. There was the slightest hint of a shadow under her eyes, a little draw to her face. Her skin was pale and looked like it’d be smooth to the touch.

“Takes all kinds. Mrs. Grey, I presume? If you like it so much you’re welcome to join me out here.” I made a gesture I hoped was inviting and a little smile quirked her full lips.

“Ms. Grey,” she corrected me. And then, “Elizabeth. You might as well know, my husband is dead.” She said it like she knew I wouldn’t be surprised, and she didn’t waver. It seemed to me nobody missed James Grey too much. “And you are?”

“Archibald Ginn, but don’t call me Archie. Private Detective. I did know, and if it’s not too much trouble I’d like to talk to you about it.” I didn’t see much point in not being straight with her. She nodded and turned back into the house, letting the door fall open. I took the invitation and stepped inside.

“You wouldn’t be the first. The police have been all over the place for days poking at things out in the rain, always wanting to talk. There’s one outside right now.”

“Yeah, I met him. Nice guy. They’re all talk.”

She looked back over her shoulder and fixed me with a coy sort of look that might’ve dropped another man. “Most men are. Aren’t you, Mr. Ginn?” There was a game in her tone and I wanted to play it.

“Not me, ma’am. I’m a man of action.” She turned to lean casually against the mantle as I wrestled my way out of my drenched overcoat. I gave her my very best grin and she laughed. I thought I liked her laugh a whole lot.

Her other side matched. Elizabeth Grey was long and slender and she moved with a sort of quiet, tired grace. She was dressed simply, but effectively, in a pair of light slacks and a black buttoned top under a long, brown man’s cardigan. Her shiny brown hair was tied back in a messy sort of bun, but long strands fell in front of her face. There was a bookish charm about her. She regarded me coolly, hands in her pockets.

“Can I offer you a drink, Mr. Ginn?” I told her she could and she turned to the bar in the corner of the room. Then she stopped and laughed a nervous little laugh. “Gin?”

I had to smile. “Can’t stand the stuff. Scotch?” She nodded and poured two glasses, and then took a seat in one of the room’s two chairs. She gestured to the other with her drink and I sat down. The room reflected an understated good taste. The furnishings were simple and comfortable: two overstuffed chairs and a third behind a small desk in the corner, a thick carpet on the floor, a few lamps casting a warm light through the room, an unlit fireplace, and books on the three walls that weren’t windows overlooking the yard, as well as on every other surface. One of the windows beside the door was open slightly, and I could hear the patter of rain outside. My eyes were immediately drawn to the large, ornate empty birdcage that sat atop the desk. I asked her about it.

“My husband was… a collector.” Her pause was weighted. “There are dozens more in his study. He brings them in from all over. China mostly.” She took a healthy drink of her scotch and then swirled the glass absently, her eyes distant.

“It’s a curious collection. This isn’t his study?” She shook her head. Hers then. I was starting to be impressed.

“I’ll cut to the chase, Ms. Grey. Where were you the night your husband was murdered?”

She sighed deeply and the cool playfulness drained out of her. “I’d gone out for a drive. I told you I’m partial to the rain. It helps me think. I returned home at half past ten. Nobody was around, and James’ body was on the step. I phoned the police.” Her tone was even, not defensive. It seemed like she was trying to keep our interview as short as possible. She looked tired.

“Can anybody confirm that?”

“I doubt it. I didn’t make any stops and I didn’t talk to anyone. Am I a suspect, Mr. Ginn?”

“Everybody is. No offense, kid.” Something told me she didn’t take any. “Tell me about James.”

“There isn’t much to say. I’d just started working for the newspaper when I met him. We were both young. He proposed, we got married. We didn’t see each other much—he was always into something. I’ve been busy with the paper, and my research.” She gestured vaguely at the books.

“Was he into anything that might’ve earned him enemies?”

“James was mixed up with some rough characters during the Prohibition years. And afterward. I never knew what he was up to because I didn’t want to.” I found it hard to believe that a woman like her hadn’t been curious. But I let it slide. She went on. “The one name I know is Joe Reilly. James mentioned him often. They were partners, for a while.” Now that was something. Reilly ran a few clubs, and he was nothing short of a gangster. I’d had a few run-ins with him in my line of work. But maybe that was one of the things she didn’t want to know.

“Did you and James get along?”

“As much as anybody, I suppose. James and I were very different people.”

“But you married him?”

Most of the dames I’ve known would’ve gotten mad at that, but instead she smiled a wry sort of smile, the kind there’s no humour in. There was a note of bitterness in her voice when she answered that made me wish I hadn’t asked. “A girl does what she’s got to. I’m sure you understand that, Mr. Ginn.” And I did. I nodded and finished my drink.

“Listen Ms. Grey. I’ve got another appointment to keep this afternoon. You phone me if you think of anything.” I handed her a card.

“I’ll do that. Thank you, Mr. Ginn.” She stood and walked me to the door. Her eyes were sad and I had the urge to comfort her.

“Chin up, kid.” I turned and walked back into the rain before I could say anything else. I was thinking I should’ve taken the General’s advice a little better. The girl had got to me.

It was really raining now. I figured I’d better pay a visit to Joe Reilly. One of his clubs wasn’t far, and a real lead might take my mind off her. Just to be sure, I thought I’d walk.

The bouncer, a real big sort of guy, recognized me at the door and let me in. I’d never had to bust Joe for anything and we weren’t on bad terms—better me than the police.

“Been raining for weeks, hasn’t it?” he drawled. And then, “Sometimes I forget whether the sun’s a blonde or a brunette. Joe’s not in today, Dick.” He used the general term.

Just my luck. I thanked him and left. Somewhere behind the thick dark clouds, the sun must be setting. The rain was falling straight down, and hard. I regretted walking. I made it only few blocks or so before I felt the tail. Maybe he’d been following me all day. It was hard to tell. He came out of an alley only about a block behind me and on the other side of the street, and he didn’t seem too worried about it. I thumbed my revolver out of its holster. He must’ve recognized the movement; a shot rang out, shockingly loud, and the brick a foot or so above my head exploded in a cloud of dust and stone that stung my face. I ducked and fired back, trying to find some kind of cover on the empty street. Not even a car to hide behind. The explosions of brick moved closer, fast. This guy was good.

The sound of sirens cut through the night suddenly, and close-by; the gunman disappeared back into his alley. I ran toward it hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Nothing but a couple of casings on the ground. I pocketed one and then got the hell out of there.

I took it out in a street light a few blocks away. .357 Magnum. A car wouldn’t have done me any good. I was worried now. Only government guys carried that kind of piece. And big-time gangsters. I drove back to the office in a foul mood.

It didn’t get any better when I got there. Her legs were waiting for me on the staircase. The rest of her was there too, but she wanted me to see those legs first. Darla Mills, Joe Reilly’s sometimes-girl. From what I heard she was a lot of guys’ sometimes-girl. She was small except where it counts, blonde, and crazy. I didn’t much like her. I wondered what the hell brought her hear, and I said as much.

“Heard you went looking for Joe today. And that you talked to the Grey woman first.” She said the last part with venom.

“Maybe I did. What’s it to you?”

“You know you’re cute, Archie. Why can’t we be friends?” She raised a hand, expecting me to help her up. A sparkle on her wrist caught my eye: a tiny golden birdcage on a charm bracelet.

“I can think of a few reasons. What’s that?” I pulled her to her feet and she stumbled on purpose into my chest. Pressed up against me, she fiddled with the charm so it played in the light.

“Present from a friend. I like presents.” She flashed me a pretty little smile and batted her lashes.

“And I bet you’ve got lots of friends.” She didn’t like that. She wound up to slap me and I caught her wrist and pushed her away.

“Goddamn you, Archie!” She cursed, and it was ugly. “Joe wants to know what you know. James Grey and him were friends and he’s concerned.” I told her I didn’t know nothing and she left in a rage. I watched her run through the rain until she was out of sight, and then I did what I always do. I went for a walk. Not even a government guy on my tail was going to keep me off the streets tonight. I had a lot on my mind and I needed to sort things out.

*****

It was early morning before I got back to the office, and still raining. The walk had cleared my head, but I was still missing something. Marlowe jumped in through the window and sat down in the middle of the floor next to the photos I’d forgotten to clear up. He set about loudly calling for my attention. He was soaking wet, his fur dark and plastered to his sides, and I bent down to move the photos out of the way.

And then it hit me.

James Grey had been shot to death outside his home with a small calibre gun, something like a .22. Low recoil, and easy to conceal. An assassin’s gun. Or a woman’s. A neighbour saw a woman leaving the scene, a brunette. Ms. Grey had brown hair, and she was seen returning to the house not long after the murder.

But in the rain, with her hair soaking wet, even a blonde like Darla Mills might look like a brunette. And that birdcage on her wrist—James Grey had a thing for birdcages, Elizabeth had told me so. I was betting that Darla was his sometimes-girl too, and that’s why he’d been thinking of leaving his wife. Maybe Darla had found out about it and confronted him, and maybe he’d played it a little too cool with her. She wouldn’t have liked that. She was one crazy dame.

That left the gunman. I picked up the phone and made a call to an informant of mine, an ex-government guy. He wasn’t in but he would be in a few hours. I left a message and then I forced myself to get some sleep. I woke up, for the second morning in a row, to the phone ringing. He told me what I needed to know.

James Grey, it seems, had been a rumrunner during the Prohibition years. That’s why he knew Joe Reilly. When Prohibition ended, instead of trying to make an honest buck, he’d turned to something else: opium. He smuggled it in in the bottoms of Chinese birdcages. Joe Reilly helped him sell it in his clubs. The government had gotten wind of it and sent in an agent. Apparently the agent hadn’t bothered to find out who I was before he shot at me; he must’ve seen me go from the Greys’ to Reilly’s and figured I was carrying on the business.

I made the appropriate calls, and I was on my way back to the Greys’ in minutes. It was still raining, but somehow I didn’t mind it so much. I thought maybe I could use some company on a walk.

2010-02-08T15:31:00.001-08:00

I have nothing of particular importance to say today, but I feel like I should get something else up here so that you (my theoretical readers) don't have to look at my angstiness anymore. =P

I've been writing lately, but nothing yet that I've wanted to post. So, in lieu of something really intellectual...

... here's a photo of me and my bookshelf! (Please excuse the Twilight books in the bottom shelf. I'm trying hard to get rid of them, but til then they make it so the rest of my books don't fall over.)

Fucked

2010-01-22T22:06:00.000-08:00

I feel really terrible today. Not sick terrible, but just terrible. I feel like what little faith I may have had in people has fled screaming from me like I'm a burning building. It's something about taking public transit home on a Friday night and having literally every other person on my train car being a drunken asshole, or something. Or maybe it's that I work with a guy who argues eloquently with me, but whether or not I hold my own in the argument believes that he's right on basis of superior moral code (he's Christian) or life experience (he's from London and has twice been forced to relocate because of his drug addiction, which he's now kicked, and his criminal record, which he is still very much adding to; he's also a year younger than I am and does indeed far, far outstrip me in experience). He is also one and the same the boy who punched me in the face after our staff Christmas party (drunkenly, and perhaps mistakenly) when I tried to stop him fighting a far bigger man, and the one who argued that Haiti doesn't deserve help. There's something just exhausting about arguing with someone that way, putting something into it and having nothing but condescension returned. On that note, the other guy I worked with tonight casually asked me whether I'd slept with the entire English department at my university, fully believing that I had, and then subtly accused me of being racist when I mentioned that the drunken First Nations man on the train yesterday morning made me angry by living up to a cultural stereotype (I still fail to see why this makes me racist). It's just so frustrating to realize that you've worked yourself into a corner such that no one would believe you if you tried to tell them who you really are or what you really feel.

I feel hopeless. Completely and utterly. I like absolutely nothing about myself or where I'm at in my life at the moment.

I've spent so much money lately, on myself and other things. I bought issues 3 and 4 of Coilhouse after Christmas because it was a mad deal and I wanted something beautiful. I needed a hood for my jacket, and then I had a dream that I needed an oak pendant too. Allsaints had a massive sale and I figured I could afford to treat myself to the two least expensive things I could find. And then I donated to the Red Cross for Haiti (the Canadian Red Cross site is being sketchy, but I'm sure you can find it on your own), to the Izara Arts project (by purchasing a Valentine's gift for my boyfriend, although I know that it's completely useless to him and although I don't believe in Valentine's Day), and to Ariel Grimm's save-her-cat fund (meanwhile Neil Gaiman's beautiful kitty Zoe is dying and I basically can't stop crying about it).

I don't have the money for any of these. I really, really don't. I also don't have money for pomegranates and real cranberry juice and fancy vegan cereal, but I buy these things too. What I have money for is rent, and that just barely, even with two jobs. And it isn't that I don't make enough for what I need, it's that I don't make enough to be a fucking stupid spendthrift, which is what I'm turning out to be regardless of how I rationalize it to myself.

I'm not sure why this has come to money, other than that one of the packages came today, and today I sent money to Ariel and read Neil's post.

I feel, today, like everything is fucked to death and I almost don't care. I feel like I can't contain this much contempt, at least before I start throwing up acid again. I mean that literally, and not as in writing or speaking vehemently. Who needs smoking when you can let the bitterness rot you from the inside? My lungs are clean but there's tar in my heart.

I feel like I can't say anything more to explain or validate how I feel right now, and so, I'm going to go to bed (and put my oak pendant under my pillow instead of my amethyst, because I need protection tonight more than I need dreams) and hope that this has gone away by morning.

In other news, girls that went to my high school have been dying lately. Lots. It makes me nervous. Blessed be, all of you.

Kiss Me Deadly

2010-01-14T13:53:00.000-08:00

Kiss Me Deadly

Fleur from DiaryofaVintageGirl.com is giving away a set of Kiss Me Deadly kickers, and oh, do I ever want to win them. Kiss Me Deadly = amazing! I'll admit, I dream about vintage shapewear. Oh yes. Check out the contest here.

<3

Lindsay's Private Party

2009-12-20T23:05:00.000-08:00

Lindsay's Private Party from Kennedy Byers-O'Brien on Vimeo.

Holy crow, this is beautiful. My heart is racing.

bad seeds

2009-12-18T22:37:00.000-08:00

I'm listening to Mojo magazine's "Bad Seeds- Nick Cave: Roots and Collaborations" album right now. It's really incredible.

This song in particular I am in love with:

Karen Dalton- "Katie Cruel"

When I first came to town
they called me the roving jewel
now they've changed their tune
call me Katie Cruel

Through the woods I'm going
through the boggy mires
straight way down the road
til I come to my heart's desire

If I was where I would be then I'd be where I am not
here I am where I must be, oh
where I would be I cannot

When I first came to town
they bought me drinks aplenty
now they've changed their tune
hand me the bottles empty

If I was where I would be then I'd be where I am not
here I am where I must be
where would be I cannot

There's a video of it here, which is terrible but at least you can hear the song.

Wishlist Pt. 2: Etsy

2009-12-13T20:46:00.000-08:00

I'm linking to my etsy wishlist because, really, nearly everything I want right now is in there. Be warned, there are around 80 pages. I've been lurking on etsy for about four years now and, what can I say, I <3 handmade.

You don't have to worry about the high-waisted panties shown above, though... I just ordered myself some. ^^

Wishlist Pt. 1

2009-12-06T22:18:00.000-08:00

This pin is adorable.

I'll get round eventually to posting a more complete list, but for now the thing I want most is books. This should be a link to my amazon.ca wishlist. I even have some of the books prioritized so that you can see which ones I want very much most! But, if in doubt, Neil Gaiman is a good choice. I would be stoked to have anything from that list, and anything anyone else likes better.

You may expect more posts (and more content!) from me as soon as the semester ends. I have so much to tell you!

<3>

Inspiration

2009-11-26T22:03:00.000-08:00

from Flickr

also from Flickr

Both from Gala. <3

Sigh!

2009-11-24T12:04:00.001-08:00

And this too! - The Knot That Into You Clutch from Modcloth.

I am so not a bag person. I don't own a purse; in fact, I shudder at the word 'purse'. But wouldn't this be handy for playing dress-up?

<3 <3

Gasp!

2009-11-24T11:59:00.000-08:00

What I wouldn't give! - vegan over-the-knee boots by Cri de Coeur, from Free People.

Pretty, pretty please, someone shell out $415.75 + shipping for me?! You will have my undying happy vegan shoe love, I promise you.

<3

Thankful

2009-11-22T15:44:00.000-08:00

Here's my submission for the Modcloth Thanksgiving Thank-a-Thon Blog Contest:

I've been meaning to write this up for a while, because as soon as I read about it, I knew who I wanted to thank.

So, here goes:

I am thankul for my best friend and roommate. Here in Internetland, let's just call her B. B has a blog, too, over at eveingdearest.blogspot.com. She never ceases to inspire me with her awesome sense of style and her creativity and her lovely smile, and her MWAH! posts always brighten up my week. She is well and truly one of my very best friends and I sincerely wish we had more time to spend together, because even though we live in the same house, school and work take up so much of our time. I miss Friday Craft Nights! She has always been able to say just the thing to challenge me, or cheer me up, whichever the situation demands. She is also an amazing person in general; I could never have the patience she has to work with kids, but I think's it's awesome that she does.

In light of something really awful that's just befallen a friend of ours, I think it's especially important to show our friends (and family) how much we love them and how grateful we are for them-- because we never really know what might happen, do we?

So, B-- thanks for being wonderful and beautiful and so very, very special to me!

<3,
J

Tamlin

2009-11-18T11:25:00.000-08:00

All Underneath the Eildon Tree by ~sphinxmuse

This is such a beautiful story.

The woods of Carterhaugh are guarded by Tam Lin, a man who demands payment of all maidens who pass through, in the form of a belonging or their virginity. A maiden named Janet [sometimes Margaret] travels to Carterhaugh and picks a [double-] rose, causing Tam Lin to appear. He questions her presence, to which she replies that Carterhaugh is rightfully hers [given her by her father]. She then travels to her father's house where she exhibits the early signs of pregnancy, much to the concern of the household. She states that her lover is elven, and then returns to Carterhaugh, once again encountering Tam Lin. He reveals he is not elven, but a mortal captured by the queen of Faeries, and that he may be sacrificied to hell as part of the faerie tithe [or teind]. He then details how she can save him to be her mate, if she will undergo a trial on Hallowe'en night. She must pull him from his horse as the faeries proceed through the woods, and hold onto him as he is transformed into various beasts, then plunge him into a well when he turns into a brand of fire. When he regains his own naked shape she must cover him with her green mantle and he will be free. She does all of this, much to the anger of the watching Queen of faeries, and they live, presumably, happily ever after.

-- from the Tam Lin Balladry page, edited and added to by me.

And now I would really like to see this movie. Hello Ava Gardner!

Veganism

2009-11-16T14:54:00.000-08:00

Adorable pins from Karmavore Vegan Shop in Vancouver, BC

I've been vegan for about four months now. Not coincidentally, I've felt better for the last four months than I have for a long time. I've noticed the difference in my skin, in my body, in the way I feel and my general outlook on life. Yes, it's hard sometimes: I've become an obsessive ingredient-reader (moreso than before, because it's an important thing to do anyway!), I can't always eat with friends and it can be kind of a nuisance to get food on the go-- and I have not been able to find a vegan cheese alternative that works. I think, though, that the benefits are outweighing the drawbacks, because I really do feel so much better about myself. I feel like I'm reducing the negative impact I have on the world, even if it's one vegan alternative product at a time. Before I made the decision, I would actually feel a sense of guilt and hypocrisy whenever I was around animals whose products we tend to consume: there's nothing quite like fauning over how cute a cow is, and then digging into a steak for supper. I do think it shows a fundamental inability (or refusal) to connect with something outside of and much greater than ourselves, a kind of callousness, and it seems to me that too many people are okay with that; it isn't for me to criticize other people for things like this, but it is something I notice.

I'm by no means a militant vegan. I don't eat meat, milk products, egg products, or anything that has ingredients derived from any of those things. I don't buy leather or silk, but I'll still buy wool as long as I can be fairly certain that the companies producing it follow ethical procedures. I still wear leather shoes and jeans with leather tags, so long as they're things I've had for a long time, because throwing them out would mean generating waste and that's just not something I want to do. I'll also still buy vintage or second-hand things, because I know that money isn't going to industries I don't agree with that way. I'm of the opinion that this is my decision and not something I can justifiably force on to other people; I can explain why I believe the way I do, but that's all. My boyfriend and roommates still eat meat, and it doesn't particularly bother me.

The choice to go vegan came after nearly a year of being vegetarian, and that came after a summer filled with barbecues and the creeping realization that I wasn't really okay with eating meat anymore. I started to read about awareness as a philosophy and a way of life, and in trying to be more aware, I started to realize that things I'd always done and taken forgranted weren't what I wanted. Basically, I became rather suddenly aware that eating meat and other animal products didn't fit with what I wanted to be and that I'd only ever done it because, well, it's what pretty much everyone, especially in Alberta, does. I never liked meat much anyway, so parting with that was pretty easy. Other things have been harder, namely cheese and sushi, but I feel like the sacrifices I've made have yielded a lot. I also, kind of perversely, love the challenge of finding vegan alternatives to things, and it's inspired me to cook for myself a lot more than I used to, which is always a good thing.

I've always been an animal-lover. My family has always been filled with pets, and we've always been deeply devoted to them. I've never seen animals as just animals; I almost see my cats as people and every now and then I come to sort of the funny realization that they look like cats. I rode horses as a kid, but there was one ranch that I refused to go back to after my first summer there because they treated their animals really poorly. I'm not going to lay claim to any kind of inter-species equality, but I think we tend to denigrate too much of the world outside ourselves to a secondary status, and that we will never be able to live harmoniously with each other until we can respect everything else around us.

One of the most interesting things about having done this is the response I get from other people. A lot of people respond with admiration; they're mostly people who are vegetarian but not quite there on taking the next step, or people who would like to go vegan. Even more people respond with total cluelessness, and I have to explain fairly often what being vegan means. And, every now and then, I get a really negative response. I've had people really freak out about it; two guys at a party once tried to argue that I'm somehow immoral for not wanting to support an industry that causes as much suffering as the slaughter industry does. I have a few friends and acquaintances who joke all the time about wanting to slip meat into my food, or who get really annoyed with me when I won't eat particular things. And, there are certain people who take it as a personal offence, not because I won't eat their food but because it bothers them that I've made the choice. I try to always be as diplomatic and casual about it as I can; I will bring my own food to parties or prepare things for myself and I try never to make a show of it.

Recently, though, someone remarked to me at a party that "life is too short not to enjoy the food." The particular someone doesn't like the fact that I'm vegan, but she's been pretty supportive of it. She isn't someone who I always get along with, but I do respect her opinions for the most part. I found the comment really interesting, though, because it's pretty much the opposite of what I think about the decision. I'm a pretty big hedonist, and as far as I'm concerned, life is something that should be thoroughly enjoyed in any way possible, but not ever at the expense of other living things, if it can be helped. I do enjoy food, a lot, and probably more often than I should, but I don't think it's my right to demand that other animals suffer so that I can enjoy anything. I know that I enjoy things more when they don't come with that kind of baggage. So, I stuck to my fruit and ignored the cake, and I don't feel at all the worse for it.

Rain in San Sebastian

2009-10-19T13:56:00.001-07:00

Rain in San Sebastian
Originally uploaded by mattgjenkins

I wish I had a camera so that I could show you how beautiful the weather is today. I love wet, drizzly weather, and how, even in the autumn when the leaves have mostly changed and fallen and the grass is dying, it makes everything seems green and alive and thriving. It's really beautiful, and it makes me feel mellow and contemplative, disconnected from school and work and all the other things that occupy so much of my time and attention, especially lately. It's a writing day. I could be very content just to be at home by myself with a book and a notepad. At any rate, I've been feeling like I don't spend nearly enough time alone anymore.

I think I'd be very much at home in Vancouver, or in London, where the weather is like this often. Here, we're in the middle of autumn but last week was freezing and snowy, and weather like today's is not common.

I think my next big purchase will be a camera. I need a way to articulate (or maybe, not to articulate) what I'm seeing. Maybe once I've managed that, I'll find a way to express what I'm feeling as well.

This blog is now...

2009-09-23T11:50:00.000-07:00

... largely defunct.

Maybe this is only temporary.

Or maybe not.

Who knows?!

Not me.

Darling Blue

2009-07-15T16:37:00.000-07:00

Tiffany Blue Light Chandelier from myfinch on etsy

Oh, how very much I'd love this darling blue chandelier for my house! It would look great in my creepy crawly crawl space that I plan to turn into a cozy reading nook (if it isn't needed for storage).

<3

I will post more. I plan to do a lot of re-vamping on this blog sometime very, very soon. Be patient!

Sweet Berry Romper

2009-06-13T17:13:00.000-07:00

I forgot to add this to my birthday wishlist. Oh my goodness, isn't it beautiful? I would wear it to burlesque and to classic car shows and probably just all the time. Size M.

I'm feeling better today. It's just too sunny to be down for long.

<3

Bad Luck

2009-06-12T16:38:00.001-07:00

The saying is something about how misery hates to be lonely, and well, you can't really blame it, can you? But it sucks, still.

I've spent the last few weeks looking for a place to rent. The market right now is pretty sketchy, and I can't afford much, but I'm going to need a place within the next few months. Most of the places I've looked at have been pretty disappointing, or have just lacked a certain necessary feature despite being really nice. My boyfriend and my two best friends (who also happen to be dating) are all also looking for places, so we've been looking for a house to split between the four of us. All of us have pretty high hopes for a place, to be honest: we want four bedrooms (so we all can have our own space), two bathrooms, a nice kitchen (being that we all like to cook), and a patio/place to barbecue. We also need someplace that has enough space for all of us to not go mad. And it has to be under $2000/month, and okay with pets, as I'm bringing my two cats with me wherever I go.

Yesterday, we found this house. It was perfect: it had four bedrooms upstairs, a fifth downstairs, three really nice bathrooms, a giant beautiful kitchen facing on to a big pretty patio in a south-facing backyard, wood-burning fireplaces up and downstairs, and tons of room. It was all newly renovated and generally just really pretty. It was close to where we all live now, close to transit, and in a community that has a lake. It was also less than our limit, and the owners were definitely fine with pets: they had a big black dog and a cat. My boyfriend and I had a look at it yesterday, and were beyond thrilled. I e-mailed the landlady as soon as I got home to tell her that we were interested in renting it, but that the other couple would have to take a look at it first. She booked an appointment for the other couple to see it today, saying that she didn't want us to miss out on the house-- and then she didn't show up, because she'd already rented it. We tried to make a counter-offer, figuring that we could pay just a little extra to get this perfect place, but she refused it.

Needless to say, we're all pretty much crushed. I don't know how long I'll be able to stay in the house I live in now, but it sure would have helped to get a place sooner rather than later.

Added to the problems I'm having getting a job and the disaster that is my family right now, I could really use a streak of luck in the near future.

That's it for the personal entries for now. Hope your summers are going better, loves.
<3

Gardasil

2009-06-07T15:19:00.000-07:00

I think everyone should take a look at this post by Audrey Kitching, about her experience with the Gardasil HPV vaccine.

Scary stuff.

Birthday Wishes

2009-06-07T14:00:00.000-07:00

In exactly one month from today, I turn 21. That's big, right? 21's the number of blackjack, which I can now legally play in the US (and which I'm partially named for, after a fashion), it's the number of trump cards in a Tarot deck less the Fool, and it makes me legal everywhere. It also may or may not be the weight of my soul in grams. It's the number of the century I live in, and it's a Fibonacci number, which is just cool.

There are a few things I want for my birthday. Materially, I mean. There are loads of spiritual and mental and physical and circumstantial things I might like to have, as well, but they're harder to put into words and a list. Anyway, here's the easy stuff (although if you're willing and able to acquire a higher state of consciousness for me, that would be a rad present too!):

Anything at all from my Amazon.ca wishlist.
A subscription to ReadyMade Magazine (which you can get for a really good deal if you use etsy, which you should do.)
A Hoopnotica Travel Hoop, in either colour really.
As mentioned in the previous post, the Dita von Teese H&M shirt. I wear a size S (or XS in some cases).
A set of six Imp's Ears from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab. I have The Sea Foams Milk, Wilde, Port Royal (a favourite), Forbidden Fruit, the Antikythera Mechanism (another favourite), White Rabbit, Bluebeard, and Odin. Other than that, anything is fair game, bearing in mind that I prefer spicy and earthy scents to fruity ones. I would really like to try Penny Dreadful, from Bewitching Brews.
Scarlett Takes Manhattan!!!
This kimono robe.
These shoes, and this locket.

Fashion Against AIDS

2009-06-03T11:35:00.001-07:00

If anybody out there loves me, they can buy me one of these shirts. Especially the Dita von Teese one. Fashion for a cause, right? Awesome!

How To Not Look Like A Tourist

2009-05-10T11:43:00.000-07:00

Image by keli_h

... even if, for all intents and purposes, you are one.

Exams are over for the semester, and so, it's vacation time! I'm spending my vacation this year in the Bahamas, on Paradise Island. I know, pretty rad. My boyfriend's parents live here, so it's, um, a lot more affordable then it would seem. This is my second time visiting, and I'm absolutely loving it. I'm not really the type of girl who would usually like a tropical vacation: I prefer someplace with a thriving history and cultural scene (and shade), but I do enjoy it here. A lot. I love the humidity and the sun (although the heat can leave me a bit frazzled) and the ocean. And I love that there are geckos everywhere all the time! Normally, I don't like to play the tourist, but I feel like I can escape a bit of that here because I'm not staying at a hotel or doing a whole lot of touristy things. I was pretty concerned this year, though, to not look like a tourist. This can be a bit tricky, especially for me: I'm pretty pale (by choice), and I have light hair and blue eyes. And, of course, I'm not a local. There are some things that I do to avoid looking like a tourist, and here are 8 tips I think are pretty basic and easy to follow:

1. Dress nicely. I really think that this is the most important thing, and I cannot stress it enough. It isn't hard to put together an outfit, and if you put in just a little more effort than throwing on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, you will look infinitely better. For heavens' sake, you're not in the garden, so don't wear your bloody Crocs. In fact, don't even bring them. In fact, burn them. Ahem. A sundress might set you apart as a tourist in some places, but at least you won't look like a slob. This was a big issue for me coming down here this year, after seeing the pictures of last year. I thought I was doing alright, but in retrospect, I looked pretty bad. The biggest thing as I shopped for this trip was a hat: I am very fair, and if I'm going to be outside lots, it's good to have one, but I did not want to look lame. I found a nice Joe (from Superstore) straw fedora, which is perfect: it was $8, it's packable, and it's nicely styled. That said...

2. Dress appropriately. No matter how nice your bathing suit or your tan is, it's just not cool to walk around in public in your bathing suit. Get yourself a nice cover-up and use it. However, make sure that your cover-up or sundress or whatever it is you plan to wear fits and suits your body type. Just because you're on vacation and are likely not to see anyone you know, does not mean that you should 'let it all hang out'. Choose something that flatters you and have some fun with it! That way, when you look back on pictures of your vacation, you won't be embarrassed. Also, some places have societal standards about dress; in certain parts of Thailand, for example, it isn't appropriate to have your arms and legs uncovered, especially if you're a women. Restrictions on women's dress are fairly widespread and it's not a brave move to try to ignore or circumvent them: it's disrespectful and can be downright dangerous. Even if there's nothing to stringent as an actual restriction by law, you should still be aware of customs regarding clothing.

3. Know a little bit about where you're going. The area, sights to see, local customs, tipping formalities, and so forth. Know where it's safe and maybe not so safe to be. You don't need to be a walking Fromer's Guide or anything, but it's good to know where you're going to be in advance. If English is not the main language at your destination, either learn some of the language, or be aware that you, not the people who live there, are going to be out of sorts. If the language of your destination is gendered, as it is in places like Thailand, be especially aware of that, because it might not be possible for you to replicate the inflections. In that case, it may be better just to stick to English than to risk offending anyone. Keep in mind that things like waving and winking aren't always so well tolerated in other places, and may have different meanings altogether.

4. WEAR SUNSCREEN: more than you think could ever be necessary. A sunburn is a dead giveaway of your foreignness, and never ever fun. If you want to tan, that's fine, but always wear at least SPF 15 even if you don't think you need it. If you're using a cream sunscreen, apply it like moisturiser when you get out of the shower, before you get dressed, and that way you'll never have to worry about missing a spot. L'Oreal Ombrelle SPF 60 "milk" works great for this because it's moisturising and not at all greasy. Invest in good sunscreeen- which doesn't necessarily mean expensive- and bring lots. You almost certainly be able to buy some wherever you're going, but it's nice to have it on hand right away. Keep some in your bag and reapply often.

5. Unplug. You're on vacation. Even if you are important enough that you need to be reachable at all times, try to find a way to not be on your cellphone constantly. And when you're down on the beach, you don't need to have a radio with you. Just chill! Read a book, or just soak in the sun, because really, how often do you just get to do that?

6. Keep your voice down. Don't shout about everything you see, and don't think that louder English will make someone who doesn't speak it understand you better.

7. Drink water, not rum. Okay, to be perfectly fair, this isn't always true. It's fine to enjoy a few drinks, as always, but drink as though you'd drink at home, that is, responsibly (whether or not you drink responsibly at home). If it's hot, bear in mind that alcoholic drinks will not rehydrate you as well as good old water. If the water where you are isn't safe, make sure to always buy bottled water, even if it's more expensive than the rum. I promise you that dehydration and sunstroke are not worth it.

8. Have respect for where you are. Remember that just because the people there don't know you and may never, that is no excuse to behave rudely or imperiously toward anyone, ever. You want to leave a good impression, right? so be courteous. Same goes for the environment: don't leave your trash around just because it's not your city. Nobody ever wants to see someone else's beer can on the beach, and it's extremely dangerous for the local wildlife. You probably chose your vacation spot because it's beautiful, and you should try to leave it that way, and if you can, help out: a lot of places have activity options for tourists that directly benefit the local environment, such as Dolphin Adventures in the Bahamas, and those places will always be more than happy to receive your patronage. And, in the case of Dolphin Adventures, it'll be well worth it. Even if you're just going to hang out by the pool or the beach, don't leave your garbage about. If you're in the tropics, keep in mind that sunscreen can be extremely harmful to coral, so if you're going snorkelling or diving, chose a sunscreen that is natural and organic; also, don't touch the coral. In fact, don't touch any of the wildlife unless you know for absolutely sure that it's okay.

Enjoy your spring, loves,
<3

Cupcakes!

2009-04-15T22:46:00.000-07:00

I just finished making cupcakes! I will post recipes later, but for now, here are pictures:

Vegan Black Forest Cupcakes

Vegan Low-Fat Strawberry Cupcakes

And this is what my kitchen looks like now:

<3!
Vane

Steepster

2009-04-08T15:32:00.000-07:00

Hello again kiddies. Two posts in one day! How lucky are you?

I got a Steepster account the other day. Basically, it's like Twitter, but for tea. It's pretty green so far (that was NOT a pun), but given some time (to STEEP. That was. Ouch. The best part is that it totally doesn't make sense!) I think it could be pretty rad. I drink a lot of tea, and I like trying new kinds, so it's cool to be able to see what other people are drinking.

My only complaint with Steepster so far is that there isn't a very good system in place to review teas; you can write a little post about "how you prepared or enjoyed the tea" which to me implies the physical process behind drinking it, rather than how it tasted. It's also a bit awkward to find people to follow on it, but that might be another symptom of its newness. All in all, it's a neat idea.

I just logged my newest tea, which is Totalitea's Russian Caravan tea. I picked this tea up at the Farmer's Market on the weekend after smelling it a while back and thinking it might be good. I have never tried lapsang before, but I think I like it. This tea smells exactly like campfire, but the taste is more subtle and complex, and has a sweeter finish. I would need to drink more of it to decide if it's one of my favourites, but I enjoyed the first cup.

It's a blend of Chinese black teas with a bit of lapsang, which is a tea that is dried over pine fires (hence the smokiness). It originated in the days when caravans would take teas from China to Russia, and it was apparently consumed usually after vodka in Tsarist Russia. This seems like a near-perfect idea to me, except that I am not a big fan of vodka. I am a rum girl, straight up, and the cheaper the better (unless it's really, really expensive). I make an exception for this, because how awesome does caffeinated coffee-flavoured vodka sound?! Von Gogh's is so good. In fact, if I can ever afford to buy a bottle, I will review it for your reading pleasure. How's that for dedication?

<3

Dear Diary:

2009-04-08T15:11:00.000-07:00

Today I got interviewed by a local news channel, at the university, about people who update their facebook statuses too often. I was like, um, really? They wanted to know whether I thought it was annoying that people constantly update about really mundane things and whether I thought it was an egotistical thing to do. I said no, not really. The funny thing was that I had just updated my twitter page about four times about how stupid I thought they were, and then they asked to film my laptop screen on facebook and twitter. It was pretty funny. I'll have to watch their shitty channel in like, two weeks to see if I'm on it. I was totally not smooth, though.

Anyway, apparently this is an important enough topic that it's showing up in the news. Not that facebook and the internet consume people's time, but rather whether people think it's annoying when others update too often. Can they really find nothing better to report on? not that they're wasting any journalistic talent, by the looks of the reporter interviewing me... but nonetheless. I told the reporter that I thought it a bit of a hypocritical position to take, considering you'd have to be on facebook and reading people's statuses as often as they're changing them to be annoyed by it, which is your own choice.

I hopped that C-Train to get home, and two stops into the trip, the driver made an announcement that a train was stalled downtown and it would be slow going. At Sunnyside, he said we'd have to wait there for a while and maybe have to catch shuttles past downtown. When I tried to get off the train, figuring I could find my way home easier on my own, the power went out. Emergency door release to freedom! And on the way home, some dude on a bike asked me if I wanted a card for Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints. Like, a business card? I respectfully declined, but not I'm thinking damn, how cool would it have been to get Jesus' business card? But the dude offering them was clearly just a lame Mormon boy and not JC. Too bad.

Now I am just chillin' listening to Tool on the radio and rejoicing in the fact that the Killers might be breaking up.

<3
Ciao, lovelies.

Product Review: Dr. Bronner's Magic Soaps

2009-03-30T09:14:00.000-07:00

I have a few product reviews for you today. Exciting! The first is Dr. Bronner's Magic 18-in-1 Hemp Lavender Pure Castile Soup. This is fantastic stuff. Magical, even. There are about a million face soaps out there, and I have used a lot of them. I have combination skin in pretty much the truest sense: it can get really dry, especially around my nose and mouth, but my T-zone tends to be pretty oily, and my skin is quite sensitive. I break out occasionally, but not badly. Most face soaps, because they're meant for a specific skin type, wreak havoc with any of the other aspects of my skin, so I've never really found any that I like. And, I don't like to have to buy a soap for my face and another for my body. So I love this stuff. The lavender is very soothing, both for the skin and for the senses; whenever I use it, it leaves me feeling calm and happy. It does a really good job of getting my skin squeaky-clean, and it doesn't leave a residue as long as it's rinsed with nice warm water. It's also very, very mild and gentle. I use this just about every day as a body wash for my morning shower, and to wash my face before bed. My only complaint with it is that it can be a little bit drying, so I use some sort of moisturizer afterward.

The greatest thing about Dr. Bronner's is that it's Fair Trade, certified Organic, environmentally friendly, and cruelty free. And it's also cheap! both in terms of cost per bottle and longevity: this soap is very concentrated, so you need really, really little to get a good lather going. I've been on my current 8 oz. bottle since September, and like I say, I use it nearly every day.

It's also extremely versatile. Like the bottle says, it's got at least 18 uses: it can be a face soap, a body wash, a bubble bath (although the bubbles don't last long; it's better for the scent), laundry soap (I've tried it for handwashing only, but it's great for delicate fabrics), and the bottle says that it's ideal for babies, for shaving, and even as a deodorant (I didn't know this until just now, but I'm excited to try it out!); I use it every now and then as an aromatherapy oil when I feel a headache coming on or am super-stressed, either by just leaving the bottle open somewhere close by or by dabbing a little under my nose. I have used it while camping as a body soap, and it works quite well in frigid lake water. I just wouldn't recommend using it as shampoo, however, unless you have very, very short hair or like that sticky sort of feeling for your hair.

And one last perk: the bottles are covered in Dr. Bronner's writings about moral philosophy and spirituality and such, which are definitely really interesting. It always makes for good shower reading, if you're into that. I always think it's really cute that the directions begin with, "To simplify and enjoy life more..."

Overall, I give this soap a 4.5/5 rating.
Price: I believe an 8 oz bottle retails for $9.99.
Skin Type: all
Scent: rich, soothing lavender.

Item number two is another of the Dr. Bronner's soaps, the Tea Tree Hemp-Castile Soap. I mentioned before that I suffer the occasional breakout, and I've been using tea tree oil for quite some time to help control that. I use this soap when I think I might break out, or when my skin is a little out of control. It's great for that, but I wouldn't recommend using it too frequently if you have sensitive skin: the tea tree oil is very astringent, and it can leave the skin feeling a little raw if it's used too often or especially if its left on for too long before rinsing. That said, I'll typically alternate it with the lavender soap and use it in the mornings as a body wash, and again, I moisturize after I use it. Other than that, it's pretty much the same deal as the lavender soap, and I've found the combination of the two quite effective.

Rating: 4/5
Price: $9.99 for 8 oz.
Skin Type: oily/ prone to breakouts
Scent: strong, astringent tea tree oil, which can be very energizing. Great if you like it, but it can be a little much if you don't.

Both soaps, as well as all the other Dr. Bronner's products (including hair conditioners and their magic body/tattoo balm) can be found at their website, here.

This'll likely be my last post for a while, as I'm going to be mad busy with school for the next couple of weeks. I'm only 12 500 words and 3 exams away from the end, though, and then it's two weeks in the Bahamas! Maybe I'll find time to fit a blog post in about essay-writing, but that might be wishful thinking.

Til then,

<3

Does it really matter?

2009-03-26T16:39:00.000-07:00

Hey, so, I have a question. It's probably a pretty moot point, because I'm pretty sure no dudes out there read this, but I feel it needs asking anyway.

First let's back up, and I'll give you some background info here. X 92.9, our local alternative radio station, has been playing commercials lately for some sketch natural male enhancement product. This is not really that new for X; they've been playing commercials for Evercleanse (you had better click that because I had to actually go to their website to get the link) and some male performance product, the name of which I can't remember (let's call it Everhard, because we all know where they're going with it) for quite a while. Both of those were gross and, quite frankly, pretty damn tasteless, not to mention, um, worryingly sketchy.

But this new one takes the cake. Not only is it stupid and ultra-sketchy, it's also plain old offensive. I'll post the actual script (and name) for it if I hear it again or can get my hands on it. It opens with some guy all like "I lived with a bunch of female roommates and heard them talk about guys they had been with, and let me tell you guys, size does matter" and then goes on to explain that chicks dig big willies and that his "fully legit all-natural" product will help dudes increase their size. He says that the product wasn't meant to be released yet, but it got out on Fox News and now they have to put it out there.

Kay, first off, Fox News? Really? People watch and/or believe Fox News? I myself find that hard to believe (because of things like this), but okay, I'll let it pass.

My question is this: do dudes really fall for that shit? If I heard a commercial for breast/ass implants for women that claimed that guys wouldn't like me without 'em, I'd laugh. I empirically know it isn't true. And I can tell you in all honesty that big penises are not necessarily better. Not at all. I would go so far as to say that I prefer them less. Because really, without being too graphic, there's only so much a girl can take. What's so bad about these commercials is that they try to make guys feel inadequate to sell a product. I know, I know; that's pretty much what the media is about for guys and girls alike these days. But SERIOUSLY. I'm having a lot of trouble wrapping my head around that idea that this is going to work out as a marketing strategy for them.

Not that I'm saying it's ridiculous for guys to want to change things about themselves and their respective abilities to please their partners. That's perfectly normal in my books, and it (pleasing a partner) is an important consideration. But do guys really believe that they have to have big, artificially-enhanced weenies to do that? And yes, it counts as artificially enhanced in my mind whether or not the product claims to be "all-natural". Are commercials like this one effective? I think they suck. If everyone stopped feeling bad about themselves because stuff like this is telling them they're inadequate, everything (including sex) would be a lot more fun.

Anyway, if you're a dude who happens to be reading this, drop me a line and tell me what you think about this: does it piss you off? do you think it's funny? what's up?

The moral of the story is love yourself and do what you can with what you've got. If you're confident and happy with yourself no matter what, it'll make way bigger a deal than artificial enhancement will. Self-improvement is rad, but it's something that has to come from your -self-.

Speaking of male enhancement products...

Biblioclasm

2009-03-16T20:24:00.001-07:00

So, I was going to write about social ineptitude, and let me tell you, that one is still highly relevant.

And then I was going to write about Vikings and how fuckin' sweet they are.

But now I'm going to write about this.

I'm a bit of a bibliophile. Anyone who's ever seen my bedroom or been near me in a bookstore can attest to that. But I think that this would be concerning to just about anyone. Basically, what you'll read about at that link is a bill passed by the US Congress last year, namely, the Consumer Product Safety Improvement Act of 2008 (CPSIA), which has declared that children's books published before 1985 are unsafe and therefore may be illegal to sell or distribute.

I know, I know. You're thinking, WTF?

The logic (and I use the term loosely) is this: before 1985, it was okay to use lead pigments for the pictures in children's books. And lead is bad, right, so you see where I'm going here. There's lead in the books and the books are for kids and therefore, even though we know (most of us empirically) that the risk here is relatively small, the books are banned in the US. Yes, that's right. Banned. Banned like, throw 'em in the garbage or otherwise dispose of them because they can no longer legally change hands banned. The books are literally being thrown in the garbage, and it doesn't seem like there's a lot that booksellers can do. That's about one step short from bonfires, in my mind.

The implications of this are potentially huge. There's a wealth of nineteenth and twentieth century children's books, the kind with the big beautiful pictures that you can't help but fall in love with, the kind that include vintage printings of Alice in Wonderland like this one that I just bid on, in danger here: the ban extends to books being sold by secondhand stores and individual booksellers, and distributed by charities, meaning lots of vintage books. Small secondhand booksellers who make a lot of their money from the sale of older children's books are threatened. Libraries, especially school libraries, are threatened. If you've ever been to a flea market, you can see how big a problem this is. Logic tells those of us who survived our own lead-filled-book-laden childhoods that it's not that big a risk, but that doesn't matter: those beautiful classic and vintage books that are such precious finds can no longer be legally sold in the US.

This actually makes me want to cry. I cannot imagine having to throw away a book, let alone a pretty vintage one. I think it's especially sad because it means that future generations of kids in the States may not know what a real classic book even looks like.

I've been trying to find out if there's any way to help booksellers that are being forced to dispose of pre-1985 children's books. I'll let you know as I know. If it comes to smuggling books like moonshine over the border... baby, you know I'm there.

<3

2009-03-15T19:59:00.001-07:00

I promise that I will be a good blogger soon and actually make posts. Pinky-swear! a super-cute girl told me last night that it's the only real way to promise.

My next post will probably be about social ineptitude, 'cause that's how I've been rolling lately. /sigh

<3

Wilde

2009-03-02T11:56:00.000-08:00

The Dole of the King's Daughter

Seven stars in the still water,
And seven in the sky;
Seven sins on the King's daughter,
Deep in her soul to lie.

Red roses at her feet,
(Roses are red in her red-gold hair)
And O where her bosom and girdle meet
Red roses are hidden there.

Fair is the knight who lieth slain
Amid the rush and reed,
See the lean fishes that are fain
Upon dead men to feed.

Sweet is the page that lieth there,
(Cloth of gold is goodly prey,)
See the black ravens in the air,
Black, O black as the night are they.

What do they there so stark and dead?
(There is blood upon her hand)
Why are the lilies flecked with red?
(There is blood on the river sand.)

There are two that ride from the south to the east,
And two from the north and west,
For the black raven a goodly feast,
For the King's daughter to rest.

There is one man who loves her true,
(Red, O red, is the stain of gore!)
He hath duggen a grave by the darksome yew,
(One grave will do for four.)

No moon in the still heaven,
In the black water none,
The sins on her soul are seven,
The sin upon his is one.

-Oscar Wilde

I love Oscar Wilde. A lot. In fact, if you've noticed, the title of this blog is taken from one of his works, my very favourite: The Picture of Dorian Gray. I would desperately love to do a photoshoot themed around this poem.

It was attached to an e-mail I got yesterday as a description of one of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab's new perfume oils for March and I loved it. Needless to say, I'll be ordering that scent for myself as soon as possible. I already have Wilde and it's definitely one of my favourites. I'll write a review of those soon, as I start wearing them again.

Haven't you heard of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab? If you haven't, get yourself over there and check them out! I highly recommend The Antikythera Mechanism (from the Steamworks collection) and Port Royal (from the Wanderlust collection) if, like me, you like rich, musky, spicy, masculine scents. Wilde is from Bewitching Brews.

And while you're at it, read some Wilde, for good measure. You might just fall in love, and really, what's better than that?

<3

Lucid

2009-03-02T09:11:00.000-08:00

I haven't decided yet whether I want to make this a personal blog or something slightly more commercial. But anyway, I've been trying to think of a good first post, and well, it came to me last night in a dream.

No, it actually did, I swear. Although maybe it was less a dream than a semi-lucid hallucinatory nightmare.

I read a book a few months ago called Awareness: The Key to Living in Balance by Osho. I'm not usually the self-help type, but I bought the book on a whim. It was alright; I disagree with a lot of the central tenets of his philosophy, but I can talk about that later. Anyway, I mention this only because at one point in the book, I think he talked about lucid dreaming, or rather, falling asleep with awareness. I usually fall asleep pretty hard before I really have a chance to think about anything like that, but last night, I just couldn't. I wasn't stressed or really thinking about anything, but I didn't feel tired. I started to do some deep breathing and to try to focus on my breath, which usually calms me down a lot. It was feeling really good and I started to calm down and fall asleep. I'm not sure exactly how much time passed between the point that I fell asleep and the point that I 'woke back up' but I have a feeling it wasn't all that long.

I woke up and felt at first that I just hadn't fallen asleep at all, but then I realized that I was at least partially still asleep. I was almost completely aware, though: not confused or anything. At least that's how I feel thinking back on it. There was a really loud sound coming from just beside my bed, but also, filling the whole room, and it was really heavy on my ears. It sounded something like really heavy breathing, like some sort of fairly large animal. Bigger than either of my dogs, but that's sort of what I thought it was, although I knew that they weren't at home. I slid my hand closer to the edge of the bed to see if my cat was still there but I remember thinking that I didn't want to move in case I alerted or startled whatever was in the room. The breathing sound at this point had been going for what felt like almost a minute and I was getting more and more convinced that it sounded like an animal. I've had sort of a supersitition about opening my eyes when the lights are off and I'm scared since I was a kid, so it never occurred to me to do that. I thought that I must be dreaming or just imaging it, but the fact that I could move my hand to feel my cat and that I was aware of how logically I was thinking made me doubt it. And then the thing in my room growled, really loudly, right near the side of my bed, near me. I tried to cry out knowing that if I could, I would wake myself if I was dreaming or alert someone in the house if I wasn't, but I couldn't: it was that awful feeling of pushing air past your vocal cords over and over but being unable to make a sound. I kept trying, and finally, managed to make a little cry: and the sound and the oppressive feeling stopped and I came fully awake, to my cat purring next to me under my hand and a very quiet house.

It took me ages to calm down and get back to sleep. I remember thinking right after the growl and when I was awake, and again this morning, that it sounded something like a large, very angry badger.

I could remember every bit of it and every thought that I had this morning when I woke up. This is very unusual.