Seven MORE Books That You Should Read

Ecstasy
-Irvine Welsh

Three short stories of really fucked up love. All influenced by drugs and not for the faint of heart or high of moral horse. Where the band "My Chemical Romance" took their name.

The Night Watch Series
-Sergei Lukyanenko

An urban-fantasy series which spans over four books, each one about people who are either "light" or "dark" and must police over each other, quite literally. These books inspired, many years ago, my first realization that life is not about being good or bad, but finding the balance in between. Enrapturing and complicated, peppered with many interesting characters and challenging ideas.  They take place in Russia (where the author is from) and you can really feel the Russian influence in the writing and settings. 10/10, would do again.

American Gods
-Neil Gaiman

Another modern fantasy, this one takes place in America and involves the fading of Gods brought in from other countries (Like the greek/norwiegan/native gods) and their fight against the new gods (media/money/beauty). Intriguing, imaginative and original, this is a deceptively simple read, and my favourite of all of Gaiman's works that I've read thus far.

The Dice Man
-Luke Rhinehart

A very smart and difficult novel in which a Psychiatrist in the late 60's gets bored with his regular life and starts living by the law of the die. He makes major life choices based on the numbers he rolls, and the story goes above and beyond what you'd ever expect. This novel is, as most quality novels are, brave, stinging, and overwhelming. When entering this book, come equipped with your sense of humour, but leave behind your dignity, it has no place here.

John Dies at the End
-David Wong

Funny and crazy, this "horror"/comedy novel was written by a man because he had a lot of time on his hands and his friends encouraged him to write. The story is a little sci-fi and little fantasy and a lot of humour. Easy read, enjoyable. Film just came out as well.

The Picture of Dorian Gray
-Oscar Wilde

This book is, without a doubt, in my top five, I recommend it to anyone who wants to start in on Classic literature, or just wants something a bit smarter than the average read. The character of Henry is so witty, well-worded and persuasive, you wonder if you'll ever meet someone as good at expressing themselves and swaying you to see things their way. Surely you never will. This book is about the power and worth of influence&beauty&youth&freedom&art. Good to read in public if you want to look approach-ably intelligent. Good to read in private if you want to learn about yourself, those around you, and why everyone is always making such a god damn fuss about Oscar Wilde and Narcissism and Homo-eroticism in the late 19th century.

House of Leaves
-Mark Danielewski

A good friend of mine recommended House of Leaves to me as 

he knows my love for all things strange and ambitious.
This novel (if you can call it that) is the definition of both.
Less of a linear book, and more of an endlessly explorable labyrinth,
House of Leaves will force you out of your comfort zone and into the fire.

This same friend made a statement which remains true, and should

concerning every work of art;

it's about something different to everyone. 

Read it. I Dare You. 

Turn off the Lights

365 Days of Creativity

day ninety five

Fucking in the dark because you could be anyone. 

I could be anyone. Two anonymous animorphs moving 

in a twisted pile of lithe limbs and hot breathe. You are the

 Marquis de Sade. I am Madonna on the rocks. 

You are Gaia, I am Nikola Tesla. Our touch static. Ecstatic. 

Ecstatic addicts acting frantic in the deep sheets of each other's

 heat. Noiseless poise-less loyal-less coils; hot&high and never 

flickering only f u c k i n g f u c k i n g feeling love and hate

 and other things you can only feel when someone else is inside of 

you. Thrilling angry unfulfilling like killing things that don't 

want to die. Our sex like masturbation because

 in the dark you could be anyone. 

I could be anyone.

Paper Cranes

365 Days of Creativity 

 day ninety four

I throw paper cranes out the window
of my bedroom in the sky
On them I have written
all the reasons why

The wings will tell you
why I smile
The beak speaks of why I sigh
In the eyes you'll learn
why my soul burns
and the tail tells of why I write

I loose these birds
with feathered words,
hoping that they'll fly home true
For the paper folds that I have stole
used to grow from your front spruce

And I wish one day
you'll sit and sway
on your swing of rubber hoop
and from nigh on high
a bird will fly
out of the crystal blue
and you'll learn of all the reasons why
I do the things I do
For on the crane
is a single phrase;
"because darling, I love you"

Come, Mama.

Mama; the best horror movie since (the first half of) Insidious.

There are three reasons that Mama freaked the shit out of me; two of which were the filmmakers utilizing skills, and one that they had no intention of that lies at the bottom of this post.
1) Keeping things slightly veiled so that your imagination fills in the rest, (as with Mama's hair, shadows on the wall, the constant grey matter that surrounds Mama)
2) Things that move unnaturally (the children and Mama both move like disjointed spiders; think the ghost in The Grudge.)

Oh hey super scary child, sure, you stay up as late as you want.

There is one particular scene in Mama that almost turned me into a blubbering black girl stomping my way out of the theater while saying nonsense like "mmmm-mmm no way I'm staying in here this is bulllllshit, uh-uh no way no how, I ain't puttin UP with tha-at." But instead I went from sitting in one position to another, as if leaning on the other armrest would provide me with greater protection. Without spoiling anything, the scene in discussion involves Victoria warning Lily not to look at Mama because she's mad. And then my seat was full of poop.

I don't think my maternal instinct covers these two.

Mama being all scary-hairy n spidery n shit.

Any film that can challenge me to keep my eyes open is one I'm not soon to forget. It was like the horrifying images on-screen and my brain were playing chicken with each other, seeing which could produce something scarier. So for every wisp of floating hair that seemed to be capable of ensnaring me, there was another terrifying maw or sore or demonic hollow that lay under that hair that my brain made up. The fear of the unknown. The nasty habit of the human mind to try and supply images where they are lacking, is so much worse than just seeing something scary. This is where Mama succeeded, in letting you supply the horror to their film.

Another thing that was subtle, yet effective was the insinuation that Mama had Downs Syndrome. While I'm not 100% sure this is true, I definitely got the feeling she had a mental retardation, and not just a psychotic personality that put her in an asylum. As is commonly known, handicapped people make "normal" people uncomfortable. It's something about them being different, about them not working in the same way that most people do (a lot like how the unnatural movement of creatures induces chills). This is a very small detail, and it didn't play an overly important part, but things like this aren't just thrown into a film for no reason. It's obvious the filmmaker's saw an opportunity to increase the uncanniness of Mama, and used it wisely.

Cinematography, acting, direction was all fine, yadda yadda yadda. Nothing to write home about.

This film is scary as hell IF you are disturbed by the things I've described, if not, you'll probably be laughing and shaking your head most of the time.

Also, ENDING = NO COMMENT

PS The sounds are not nice to your fear either.

PPS Anyone else notice how a lot of the lead females in films lately are "alternative"? (Mama, Silver Linings Playbook, Pitch Perfect)

Jessica Chastain in Mama

Jennifer Lawrence in Silver Linings Playbook

Anna Kendrick in Pitch Perfect

PPPS Reason number 3) When I was growing up I had a reoccurring about a woman that looked exactly like Mama, except she was completely white instead of grey. In the dream the pallid woman sat upright in a very large bed. Her back was against a mound of pillows and she had long, liquid-like hair that flowed all around her. The woman had spindly fingers that seemed withered and broken, and they clutched the white lace dress that she was wearing. We were alone together in an enormous house, where the hallways went on for eons, and the ceiling was so vaulted it couldn't be seen. The doorways were extremely wide, for the bed needed to fit through them. I would be running through this all-white house that had no furniture, no shadows, nowhere to hide, and the bed would be gliding after me, faster and faster. And with her bleached hair flung out behing her, the Woman would be lying on the bed, twisting her pale dress in her brittle hands and screaming as she chased me.

Caffeinated Haikus

365 Days of Creativity

day ninety three

Got a new job at a coffee shop, in between serving the three other people who are awake at 7am, I had time to jot down some haikus. All photos taken on my superdupermagicalcellulardevice.

These haiku pictures are 100% inspired by two fellow bloggers; Kody & Liam you can view their awesome creations here.

Do Not Try To Tame Me

365 Days of Creativity

day ninety two

I am not your girl to impress

              your dame to undress

              your damsel distressed

I am not your woman to woo

              your skirt to pursue

              your pigeon to coop

I am not your trophy to claim

              your lion to tame

              your habit to break

I am not your star to adore

              your island to shore

              your song to record

I cannot be branded and chained

              traded and slaved

              whipped and ashamed

I refuse to drop to a knee

              kiss on your ring

              battle or sing

I deny your title of king

              for what is a king

but a clown wearing mink?

I am not the 'divine feminine'

              for that is a term

              made up by men

'Lesser' or 'greater'

'better' or 'worse';

nothing but labels,

inaccurate words

Man or a woman,

bird or a beast,

nothing but bodies

by lifetimes are leased

              For people are humans

              no more than stars are just flames

              we are not our genders,

                              bodies, or brains

              you are a soul

              a brave entity

        who re-enters this world

            to learn endlessly

The DAA

365 Days of Creativity

day ninety one

the DAA

Have you ever heard of a damage addiction?
Also known as a mutilation vortex
A dramatic chain
The circle of self-destruction

Have you ever met someone so totally addicted to their own problems, they are beyond the reach of help?

Take for example, someone who tells you they have a secret, but they never tell you what the secret is. Though whatever it is, it's terrible, it makes them tremble and glisten and stutter out "I can't." as a refusal to letting you in. And you get this feeling that it's not for your sake, but for theirs. Because they need this secret. It makes them mysterious. Interesting. Special. This secret is the only thing they have.

Yes, you've met someone like this. Someone in love with never being loved. The princess in the tower who cuts down her own rope. The boy in the well who never calls for help. The girl who leaves behind drawings on her desk at school, but never explains what the graphite tears mean. Oh yes, we've met them, lived with them, tried to save them. But they will not be saved.

They can, but they choose pain over pleasure. Their pain is their pleasure.

Now imagine how hard it must be to always be so successfully misunderstood. No one will ever congratulate your depressive achievements. You're sweet isolation is bitterly unrewarding. Maybe once in a while it would be nice to hear how well you're doing at keeping everyone at bay. At letting the audience hang in the dark while they wonder at your dramatics from a far. All you need sometimes is an appreciative nod, or a pat on the back. 

That's where DAA comes in.

Damage Addicts Anonymous.

This is where every wednesday, all the cutters and bulimics, dumpees and artists (oh god, the misunderstood artists!), the narcissists and rape victims come to debate on regurgitation tactics and where to cut themselves, (where is too obvious and where is too risky). The narcissists discuss how to simultaneously keep a conversation on themselves while letting others know their lack of worth.

Meetings start at seven and can run all night.

Lucy, she's been eating lunch alone since she was fifteen, and tasting it twice since she was sixteen.

Meet Sid, he wears his sleeves rolled up until people ask about his scars. He wears his hair over his face to hide his smile when they do.

Charles is an online poet. Only he posts his work half-finished so people think he's self-loathing and gives up on everything. Charles doesn't even like poetry.

Genevieve has been dumped twenty-six times this year, four of which were caused by the abortions.

Jacob loosens the bolts on his bike to get in harsh wipe outs. He reopens his wounds so they leave disfiguring scars.

"Hi I'm Phil, I've been a damage addict for thirteen years. I've burned down three houses, all of which were mine."

"My name is Cherry and I always bet on the sure thing to lose."

"I'm Dylan and I've tried drowning in the ocean four times. I don't want to be saved."

"Hey, Mike here. I've jumped off the wagon again. I'm drunk, and I don't want to be saved."

"It's my first time here after my second time being raped. I didn't call for help."

Meet Megan, an orphaned girl who started DAA when she was eighteen. Megan was not born an orphan - no one is- but she became one just weeks after leaving the womb. It turns out shotgun weddings don't usually hold up past the accident's first birthday. Every time the orphanage would set up an interview for her, Megan would sabotage the meeting. She would spit or cry or insult the lovely, lonely couple.

The orphanage sent her to a private school in the next city where being abandoned made her unique. Kids looked at her with wonder, boys tried to save her and girls tried to comfort her. Megan realized if she ever got adopted, all of this attention would stop. So she kept spitting and crying her way out of being loved.

Once she graduated from school she realized she was so alone, there was no one to be amazed by her pain. So she posted a notice at the community center for 'Damage Addicts Anonymous; a place where we may be alone, together'.

The first week brought in only two. One woman who mistook the hall for the bathroom, and Lyle, a twenty-eight year old who had been faking seizures for over a decade.

Two people this fragmented often think the other can complete them, no matter how rough the fit of the pieces. The couple fell into a dangerous love, the kind where all of your messy weights find a precarious place of balance together. The rocky, turbulent seas of their relationship were calmed only by the gravity of the group they lead. Two tornadoes tied together with a leash. 

Megan and Lyle, the earthquakes that rocked a coastal city to its knees.

The wounded wolves that circled the edges, never accepting assistance, never giving anyone more than a beautiful view of a terrible creature.

Megan and Lyle, they loved each other because their conditions were complementary. Lyle was abusive because of his constant experiments with different medication, and Megan used makeup to make her bruises look, not better, but worse.

Every meeting started with Megan giving her own testimony. As she talked about how her old orphanage Director urged her to leave Lyle, a gloating glower would hang on her face, a satisfied smile sneaking over her cheeks. "The Director says I'm losing control. She offered to pay for my plane ticket home this week." Megan's grin cracks open her scabbed lips. "Mommy thinks I'm broken."

This is when she blows a kiss to Lyle at the back of the room.

Megan and Lyle

sitting in a tree

K-I-L-L-I-N-G

first comes drugs,

then miscarriage

then comes the day they jumped off a bridge

Can you tell she used to be beautiful?

It's hard through all of the bone.

The only reason they died together

Is because they lived alone.