I hate housework...

In case I haven't mentioned it before...

I hate housework

This hatred is multiplied in leaps and bounds by the fact that I have a vacuum cleaner that spits more than it blows.

I do almost everything in my power to keep from having to do housework...including admonishing every person I have ever met that it is tantamount to treason to just "drop by" my home...oh no no no...that's not allowed...one must never just show up at my door without the obligatory phone call to warn me so that I might appease my dirty house guilt with one of those "flight of the bumble bee 90 mile an hour stuff n fluffs" of my home to kinda make it presentable...

anyway

The V.O.D. is coming back from a couple of months at the sisters house...so I can no longer pretend that it doesn't need to be done...and for all the effect this fucking machine has I might just as well try to suck the carpets clean thru my lips!

that's likely a visual you didn't need huh?

Do You Watch "Cold Case"?

the tv show I mean

I do
I think I like it so much cos the music is like the soundtrack of my life
all 80's stuff
like tonight:

No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes

No one knows what it's like
To be hatedTo be fated
To telling only lies

But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free

No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you

No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through

But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free

When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool

If I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat

No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes

A Random thought...

why is it so important for some people to describe themselves by stating their religion?

I've been surfing random blogs instead of doing housework today and I've discovered about a dozen that profile themselves as "I'm a christian woman..blah blah blah"

that's not who you are...that's what you are....

do I go about calling myself a big bald witch?
no
I call myself a big bald biker, or an ethical feeling human being, or a jugemental bitch...but I don't lead with the fact that I am Pagan...

am I nuts?
do I have a bone to pick?
methinks I doth protest too much...

gawd, I will do almost anything to keep from having to scrub the toilet!


and while I'm on the subject of "things that make me go hmmmmmm?"

what is up with this whole poker craze?
ya'd think someone had reinvented the freakin wheel they way people are carrying on....IT'S A FREAKING CARD GAME!
ok
I feel better now.

These Things Come in Threes

I found this on "what was I thinking"

Three Names You Go By:

• Karen
• Karnie
• Karenbrown

Three Screen Names You've Had:

• WyzWmn©
• PMS365
• Aunty Kranky

Three Physical Things that You Like About Yourself:

• eyes
• hands
• smile

Three Parts of Your Heritage:

• Irish
• Pennsylvania Dutch
• English

Three Things That Scare You:

• being outta control
• loosing my temper
• liars

Three Things that You Are Wearing Now:

• sweats
• t-shirt
• jean shirt

Three of Your Favorite Bands or Musical Artists:

• Evanesence
• John Hassel
• Stevie Ray Vaughn

Three of Your Favorite Songs:

• My Immortal
• Nature Boy
• Riviera Paradise

Three Things You Want in a Relationship:

• honesty
• integrity
• respect

Two Truths and a Lie (which one is a lie?)n - guess

• I am a liar
• I am ethical
• I have no sense of humor

Three Physical Things About The Preferred Sex That Appeal To You:

• eyes
• teeth
• fur

Three of Your Favorite Hobbies:

• riding my trike
• reading
• cooking

Three Things You Want To Do Really Badly Right Now:

• be healthy
• be able to afford sprucing up my trike
• getting my housework done

Three careers you're considering:

• Writing a book
• sales
• commedienne

Three places you want to go on vacation:

• Moncton NB
• Sturgis
• CA

Three Kids Names You Like:

• Zak
• Zeek
• Emerald

Three Things You Want to do Before You Die:

• travel around the world
• get healthy
• make enough money to buy a home

Three ways that you are stereotypically a girl:

• cry at the drop of a pin
• love shoes/boots
• take way too much stuff when travelling

Three celebrity crushes:

• Vin Diesel
• Keannu Reeves
• Nick Cage

Nuff said?

I frequent many websites, blogs, groups etc
a habit I got into after years of being sick

some of them have been pretty boring lately

in an effort to contribute on one of the motorcycles groups recently, I posted a question about an offer that has been made to a buddy and myself...to have our trikes used in an episode of a TV show

the question was...would you let a stranger...even a well known actor...ride your motorcycle for money - a fair bit of money all things considered?

the first reply I get is from a regular...
he says " Grow some hair....And start sucking dick instead of muff divin' I'm just say'n"
?
so because I am almost 50
and no longer have the nubile body I once did
because I'm bald
I'm a lesbian
?
I don't get it
what the hell is the correlation there?

I am sick to death of people making
accusations/decisions/conclusions
based on hypothesis as opposed to facts

I could have answered...that I am a ragin hetero
and in spite of this fact I've likely had the opportunity to sleep with more women than he had
simply because of who I am
not what I am
I could have said that I am under no obligation to justify myself to you. You don't have to like me, you don't have to respect me...but you don't get to judge me.
I could have responded with diminishing comments about my perception of his sexual prowess
I could have responded with jabs at his race, his religion, his motorcycle, his personal looks, his health, his stupidity, his vulgarity, his hate, his being a complete waste of oxygen and skin.
I could have....
but what I did respond with
was
"ya know what? I would grow hair if I could
and if you were half the man you profess to be
you'd be out muff divin instead of takin shots a women you don't know"

to which he (true to form) responded by posting a pic of my face coming out of a human asshole

once again I could have made derogatory comments about his race, his religion, his motorcycle, his personal looks, his health, his stupidity, his vulgarity, his hate, his being a complete waste of oxygen and skin

what I did say was " it's like having a battle of wits with an unarmed opponent"

nuff said?

On Tattoos...

This is another one of those subjects near and dear to me...we were talking about it at work the other day...

I have 3 tattoos - a medium (4 X 6) sized peace and prosperity Sanskrit to which was added a half moon and a heart...with some iddy biddy starbursty things ...the Sanskrit is black, ½ moon is yellow and heart is red)...on my left wing (sorta shoulder kinda back kinda and a 2 by 2 by 2 Celtic trinity knot on my right outside ankle...the outline of which is black and inside is colored royal purple...

I wanted my first tattoo when I was about 15...but I am an addictive person by nature (this I know)...and was raised by a cop...so...he and I told myself that if I really really really wanted one I could have one for my 40th b'day and that's when I got the Sanskrit...followed by the star and heart combo.... I got the trinity knot when I moved to BC 7 years ago...

The biggest part of the decision for me both times was finding something personal enough that I would still be proud of it as an old woman in a rocking chair.

When I was a kid I thought that I would get a sweetheart rose over my left breast and as I aged I could add to the stem and end up with an American beauty (the ole sock n ball syndrome!) I was able to talk myself outta that one...

I have wanted to get a broken heart over my left breast for many years now...but I have stopped myself for a bunch of reasons...the last time was because I thought that a broken heart would be too symbolic of the jackass that I had just recently been separated from...he that robbed me and precipitated my move to BC...broke literally and figuratively! His last name was Sullivan, so in the depths of my depression I decided on a broken heart with the word "Sully'd" over it....

Thank all the gods I was able to snap outta that one!

I've even thought about having a zipper tattooed over my abdominal scars as I am recently had my 8th abdominal surgery (and hopefully the last!)...but I betcha I can think of something nicer to put elsewhere instead!

Both of my tattoos have been part of bonding rituals with my sister and a woman who has been a sister for over 30 years...they both have more than just the 2 we got together...my kid sister actually has 9 tattoos...makes me laugh....Mom always used to say: "my oldest daughter is a biker...she has no tattoos, my son was a sailor, he has no tattoos...my baby is a college kid...she has 9!" I think that only two of my sister"s tattoos are above the knee!

I once knew a biker that was a classic example of the old joke about a sailor having a girlfriend in every port...you know the one where the guy has like 5 women's names x'd out one after the other on his arm...this guy had been married 7 times by the time he was 40...I once told him that contrary to what his mother told him he didn't have to marry them to sleep with them...but I digress again....he had every one of his wives names tattooed on himself somewhere...I guess the idea being that if the latest wife got bored she could spend an hour or two reading his tatts...or maybe ex'ing out the previous ex's?

I absolutely love good skin art...the operative word being "good" ...and I am more and more attracted to tribal and Celtic works these days.

I have seen some really good work, and I have seen some really really bad work, there sure as hell is no accounting for taste. I used to work with a beautiful young woman that had a large Persian cat tattooed on her left thigh...it was all in black relief with piercing blue eyes...and was about a foot long (I think the model cat in question was actually smaller). When she married she and her husband became very avid "dog people" and she was really embarrassed to wear shorts. And I also once knew a very young woman that got the HD crest tattooed over her pubic hair with bat wings running down each inside thigh to her knee! How'd ya like to be her ob/gyn??? And

Recently I worked with a woman for about a year whose ex-husband owned a tattoo shop here in the city...she had these lovely Japanese sleeves done....and all sorts of other tattoos. So one day she and I are in the ladies room and I says to her..."so what did you do over the weekend?" to which she answers "I got my guns outlined". "Guns?" says I to which she pulls up her and lowers her pants to expose a pair of luger looking revolvers tattooed on her abdomen. I guess I must have looked puzzled cos she shot back at me "well at least I don't have a rose tattooed on my tit!...only whores do that!"...I've know a lot of very lovely women with roses tattooed over their hearts over the years...but she was the first women I'd ever met with lugers on her pubic bone!

Here's another thing about tattoos...if you are a bathing beauty I wouldn't recommend it...the sun bleaches the colors out and you'll eventually need to have them redone...and excessive sun over long periods of time is what causes that sorta leaching effect that you see it old tattoos (where the lines look blurry)

The biggest thing is...they don't go away...even laser removal doesn't leave you with pristine skin...you still have marks/scars....so if you decide to take the plunge...make damn good and sure that you won't wake up in 10 years wanting to amputate your arm cos the stupid old thing won't wash off!

Here's a puzzle for you...

As much as I like skin art...ust don' get the whole piercing thing? Eyebrows, belly buttons, nipples lord tundering jayzuz that looks painful! and the branding thing and the making the pierced holes huge...

I don't get that either...

do ya suppose it's cos I'm getting old?

Quote of the Day

The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next. - Ursula K. LeGuin

I'm wondering

I'm wondering what it is
about newbie riders
that make them think they are invincible?

is it cos they are so full of anticipation
that they convince themselves
that their fears are ill founded?

3 riders down on Sunday
whew
that's scary

Nestled in the Woods...
WyzWmn

I learned something...

I learned something this week

We as Canadians are spoiled

we live in a society that has sheltered us
from the dirt and pollution of the real world

We have racism and violence
but it is nothing
compared to the vehemence of beliefs
in other countries

here we are in 2005
and still there are countries where
women and murdered and mutilated
for not being virgins
or for embarrassing their male counter parts

people of ethnicity
are often treated with revulsion
by our brothers and sisters from
the lower 48

imagine being verbally abused
by your customers
every single minute of the day
and not being allowed to refute it
for fear of loosing your job

imagine not being able to
walk out the door on a moonlit night
for fear of retribution
of nothing more than being born
with skin not milquetoast?

We ask Canadians are spoiled
and lucky beyond belief.

Why I am Who I Am - Deepest Darkest Wyz Secrets

I suffer from post traumatic stress disorder...

stop reading here if you are not ready for some truths

the first time I was sexually assaulted I was 3 years old culminating in the abuser dying in front of me when I was 9. I was raped and sodomized by a friend when I was 28; in return I tried to kill him, which landed me in jail with an untidy court case. I have been declared legally dead twice by drs who then called my parents to come and identify my body.

I have been robbed at gunpoint and shot at. I have had over 700 stitches put in my face (at one time) my cheekbone and the bridge of my nose replaced, in my misspent youth I got involved with a gang and became the property of a despicable human being that sold me on my 21st birthday to a guy in a bar for the price of a whiskey coke.

The first major abdominal surgery of my life was when I was 21 days old. I've had a knee done, and I have broken my back. I have Crohns Disease (lost most of my hair and gained 100 lbs due to steroid intake) I have had Endometriosis as well as a Hiatus Hernia. I have chronic bronchitis; I have had 6 major tumor operations culminating in my surgery in Feb 03 to remove 17 lbs of tumors and scar tissue along with a hysterectomy for good measure.

I lost 6 members of my family in a 13 mth period and its only gonna get worse as the median age of my parents generation is 73 and there are 12 left to go my eldest cousin is 57 and there are currently 147 of us left the youngest being 38 and I'm about to turn 50 in July.

I don't say all this to garner sympathy....contrary to what you may be thinking...

I say it so that you will understand that when I say I have PTSD I am not lying to you, when I tell ya I've been around the block, I'm not exaggerating.

As a result of the physical and sexual abuse I was a mean bitter violent woman for a long long time - a fact that was fueled by a genetic disposition towards violence that I inherited from my dad the cop...and probably the worst case of true PMS ever documented...I had screaming arguments with inanimate objects (like the iron when it didn't heat up fast enough) and I was a mean cruel person - often reducing virtual strangers to tears and fears - just cos I could.

I mean I understand that I am the sum total of all that has happened in my life...that these occurrences are what makes me the caliber of person that I am...but as I get older and calmer and healthier betwixt my ears and in my heart...I literally don't spend as much time thinking about the negative crap...

except for a couple of things...

I had a daughter when I was very young...and because I was able to recognize that I was very fucked up (on more levels than we should have to count) I went to the CAS and gave her up for adoption. I've never regretted the decision...but it does get harder as you get older (I successfully blocked it outta my head for so many years that I can't remember what year she was born in...I can't remember if I was 19/20/21?).

As with any parent, there is never a day that goes by that I don't think of her...the difference for me as with other parents is that all my thoughts are conjecture...and I'm a control freak...so we both know how that boat floats with me...I've registered with the CAS so that should she ever wish to find me she can...but for all I know she could have got hit by a bus at 3.and I believe in my heart if I was one of them Jerry Springer type moms that just showed up on her doorstep and she didn't know she was adopted...it would ruin her life...and that would veto what I set out to do in the first place...ya know?

The second thing that rears it's ugly head at the strangest of times...is fear...huge anxiety issues (PSTD)...I've never in my life been able to just walk down a flight of stairs...always in my mind I think "wouldn't it be awful if I feel down these stairs and smashed my teeth out"not that I don't know that I couldn't live without my bloody teeth...but just that anxiety...ya know?

I have been bent folded spindled and mutilated by the psychiatric community....one quack told me that all I had to do was to set some goals in my life and I would be cured??? I have spent more money on meds than most people earn in a lifetime...

The end result of my telling you all this is so I can get to the point that I can tell you that I have learned something here........are ya ready?

This I know...negative attracts negative and positive attracts positive.

It is certainly easier to allow your cup to be half empty but that is a self fulfilling prophesy. We will be happier if we force ourselves to see it as half full.

Easier said than done, I know, only we can make that decision. Being negative and dwelling on the hardships/losses in our life becomes a habit just like brushing your teeth did.

I now take pleasure in the small things in life, in summer rain (grows flowers ya know) in sunshine, in friendships, in silence, in music, in color, in art, in grocery shopping in what ever.


I revel in my single-hood as it is the blessing that has allowed me to get healthy enough to have a strong healthy loving relationship when I am ready just like building healthy friendships.

Anyway...I'm a prime example of what ya can do when ya clean up yer act...altho I seem to have become the large economy sized version of what I can be at the moment...this too shall change. In the mean time I just slap a smile on my face and keep going eventually it becomes a habit too.
It's a funny thing

I don't often think of all that bad shite anymore...I work hard to remain in the moment and I try to think about the future.

good goddess I do go on.

Great Goddess Tree
WyzWmn

The Good Life - trois

She thinks was three the first time she was abused...she may have been older and she may have been younger but it's all part of the fight.

She didn't remember it until she was 13 years old, and she didn't tell until she was 16, but it happened none the less. And now no one but her remembers being told or doing the telling....but it happened none the less.

By the time the girl was three the little family lived in a huge house with a big yard and lots of neighbours. The house had a big veranda and a large back porch. It had a huge yard and flowers in the garden to keep the mommy happy. I had a big tree for forts in the back yard...but better yet the whole back of the lot was surrounded by plum trees and an old cedar hedge that was perfect for hiding in. It even had a side door that let to the butler's pantry and shutters for the windows. When the storms came the mother would get the little girl out of bed to sit in the window seat with her and watch the lightening. The mother's friends called it "Perth's Favorite Coffee House".

When the mother and the father went out together they usually left via the front door. The baby-sitter would let her boyfriend in one of the other doors.

The boyfriend was a biker and he had a big knife. Any knife was big to the little girl's eye.

While the baby-sitter went upstairs and woke the girl up to bring her downstairs, the boyfriend would pull down all the window blinds in the house...all except the one right over the couch.

And when the baby-sitter brought the girl to the living room the biker boyfriend made the little girl stand on the coffee table and keep watch out the crack in the window blind over the couch...so he and the baby-sitter could do things on the couch and not get caught. When she cried he held a knife to the little girl's throat and told her that he would kill her mommy and daddy if she ever told. So she decided to be as strong and strong could be and save her mommy and daddy's life. And she didn't cry again.

And she didn't tell anyone for more than 10 years, but by that time the dye was set. She didn't even tell when the biker boyfriend did the same things to her that he did to the babysitter...and that made the baby-sitter cry.

The baby-sitter was not anywhere near as strong as the little girl was and that made the little girl proud cause she was fighting the good fight

The Good Life - Round deux

When he left the Navy, the father joined a provincial police force. A job of integrity and honour?a refuge from the family business. There'd be no "Funeral Directing" for him. He was gonna save the world.

He was first stationed in a small town in Lanark county, Perth, on the River Tay.

He made $2000.00 a year and worked endless hours. When he wasn't working because he had to?he was working because he wanted to. He loved the job. He loved the drama, the adrenaline, the fighting and the brotherhood. He loved being top dog and having people have to do as he told them. He had gone from the safety of his mother's home, to the camaraderie of the Navy to the brotherhood of the blue. Security in male bonding.

Sometimes it was hard on the mother, but most of the time she figured that it was normal. Her own father had been the same kind of a man to a degree?always working or gone playing music for dances all over Saskatchewan. That's just the way things were. She was from the "burn your ass and sit on the blister" era anyway. It's not like she would have said anything if she had thought to.

They lived in an apartment over the local grocery store. Another police officer lived down the hall. So the mother had company of sorts. Even if she didn't like the lady the man was a cop and that should be good enough.

When they first started out they couldn't even afford furniture, so they sat on bundles of newspapers and the baby slept in the bathtub. It stands to reason that when one of them needed to bath the other spent the time holding the girl.

Eventually they bought furniture and settled into family life of sorts.

The mother and the little girl spent a lot of time together because the daddy was always working...even when he wasn't. Besides the daddy got mad easy and it was just better for the mommy and the little girl to be quiet and let him sleep. When he was home the daddy yelled a lot. He believed in "spare the rod and spoil the child"

Once when the mommy was doing laundry the little girl got up on a chair to help. While the mommy was on the balcony hanging the laundry...the little girl tried to put some clothes through the wringer washer but caught her arm instead and hurt herself and screamed for her mommy. The mommy came to the rescue and made it all better, but when the daddy came home he yelled at the little girl and told her to be more careful.

The little girl became very good at saying "I'm sorry"...at a very early age she understood the value of repetition and she actually said it so often it became a mantra. She never knew what she was sorry for...but she knew she'd better be sorry if she knew what was good for her.

Sometimes they had parties and there are still pictures of the precocious little girl in her cowgirl suit with her little Stetson on her head, a beer bottle in one hand and a cigar butt in the other. There are also pictures of the little girl kissing a stand up dolly bare-assed nekid....the little girl that is.

Once the mother came into the kitchen to find the little girl standing on the top of the fridge. No chair or counter in sight. That was when the mother started to call her "Zelda queen of the apes" and it was also when the mother began to understand that the little girl was different than other children. Things just happened around her. Trouble seemed to levitate towards her.

When the little girl was 5 or 6 the mother had to go to British Columbia to visit relatives by train. She went to her doctor for a check up before she left and that Dr said "you can't be planning to spend 3 days and 3 nights locked up in a berth with that little hellion!" So he gave her a prescription for a tranquilizer to keep the child quiet on the trip.

The first day the mother gave the little girl her pills and the little girl bounced off of the walls like she'd been shot from a cannon. (this is when the mother discouvered that the little girl often had "mirror image" reactions to drugs) The little girl ran from the observation car at one end of the train to the dining car at the other over and over and over again. No amount of running, calling, begging, threatening or cajoling would allow the mother to control her.

Late at night, in a brief moment of lucidity the mother put the little girl in their berth, on the inside, and went to sleep. She awoke at perhaps 4 in the morning to the unmistakable sound of the little girl chatting with the car man and peeling hard-boiled eggs. The mother gave up and took the tranquilizers herself.

The Good Fight...and so the story begins

It started out hard, right from the beginning, cause she was born sick.

Not the kind of sick that comes with a cold or the flu. And definitely not the kind of sick that one could recognize from the outside.

Never the less, she was born sick.

Her mother tells the story, at times with dismay and often with affection.

"You see, there was something wrong with her right from the time I brought her home from the hospital…no, no, …it was before that…."

Apparently, from the moment of her birth, from the very first second that her mother laid eyes on her, her mother knew that there was something wrong with this child. But in "those days" all the doctors kept telling her that she was but a nervous, new mother, and if she would just calm down the baby wouldn't sense her unease and would be "just fine".

"Fine" the mother would wail…"this child can vomit at fifty paces!"

At the time of her birth, they were New Brunswick, in the Navy, "met and married" (they would later grow fond of saying). A refuge for the mother…a place to be an independent woman in an era of Victorian views, and an attempt at "being his own man" for the father…an escape from a tyrannical father.

Yes, they met and married in the Navy. Married in their blue serge uniforms…a wren and a sailor. When she found out that she was pregnant the mother left the Navy, but the father stayed on…to support his family.

After she was born, they had to leave the Navy base. Children weren't allowed in the married couple's barracks. So the mother packed while the father worked. And when she wasn't packing, the mother held her daughter and she sat on a crate rocking her, adding her own wails to that of the screaming child.

The story goes that when the movers arrived, with the big truck, one of the moving men came and stood in the door and watched the mother holding the baby, and listened to them cry. Cry and rock, rock and cry.

The moving man tried to talk to the mother, to calm her down. But the mother was inconsolable. She knew her daughter was dying.

Now comes the first of the "little oddities" that would come to define her life. The small coincidences that held her apart from the rest of the world in her mind's eye.

The moving man had a sister. The sister was a nurse. A nurse that worked for a pediatrician. A pediatrician with a horrendous waiting list and a passion for protocol. The moving man sees the terror in the mother's eyes and calls his sister at her job. The sister tells him that he is nuts, and that she is not bothering the "great doctor" with her brother's fancy.

But the moving man pleads with her and eventually she relents. She speaks to the doctor, and he in turn eventually speaks to the mother…

"When you touch the baby's stomach, does it ripple?" Asks the doctor.

"Yes", snuffles the mother.

"Does she have projectile regurgitation?"

"Wh…What?"

"Can she puke and hit the far wall?"

"She hasn't kept a bottle down since she was born."

"How old is she?"

"She's only twenty one days old and she's gonna die!" Wails the mother.

"Madam"…says the doctor…"get that baby to the hospital immediately…right now, do not stop to get her a bottle, do not stop to change her diaper, do not stop to put on your lipstick, do not even stop to find your purse. Get that child here immediately…a matter of life and death!" (And the mother thought that she was frightened before.)

The moving men rush out and uncoupled the transport truck from the trailer and the mother climbs up into the cab with the wailing child. The moving man rushes them to the hospital…careening around corners and running lights. The doctor rushes the baby into surgery and in a matter of hours, saves the girl child's life from an ailment that usually only happens to boys.

So at the age of twenty-one days, she has her first scar…almost a second belly button. And has lived through the first of the many coincidences that will make her who she is.

She has survived the beginning of the good fight.

Enigma MCMXC a.D.

The Voice Of Enigma

Good evening, this is the voice of Enigma

In the next hour, we will take you with us into another world

Into the world of music, spirit, and meditation

Turn off the light, take a deep breath, and relax

Start to move slowly, very slowly

Let the rhythm be your guiding light

Principles Of Lust

A: Sadeness

Procedamus in pace

In nomine Christi, Amen

Cum angelis et pueris, fideles inveniamur

Attollite portas, principes, vestras,

Et elevamini, portae aeternales,

Et introibit Rex gloriae.

Quis est iste Rex gloriae?

Sade, dis-moi...

Sade, donnes-moi...

Procedamus in pace

In nomine Christi, Amen

Sade, dis-moi, qu'est-ce que tu vas chercher?

Le bien par le mal?

La vertue par le vice?

Sade, dis-moi, pourquoi l'évangile du mal?

Quelle est ta relígìon?

Ou sont tes fidèles?

Si tu es contre Dieu, tu es contre l'homme.

Sade, es-tu diabolique, ou divin?

Sade, dis-moi... Hosanna

Sade, donnes-moi... Hosanna

Sade, dis-moi... Hosanna

Sade, donnes-moi... Hosanna

Procedamus in pace

In nomine Christi, Amen

B: Find Love

The principles of lust are easy to understand

Do what you feel, feel until the end

The principles of lust are burned in your mind

Do what you want, do it until you find love

The principles of lust are easy to understand

Do what you feel, feel until the end

The principles of lust are burned in your mind

Do what you want, do it until you find love

I am to come...

C: Sadeness (Reprise)

nemA ,itsirh

C enimon nIrumainevni seledif ,sireup te silegna muC

Sade, dis-moi...

Sade, donnes-moi...

Sade, dis-moi... Hosanna

Sade, donnes-moi... Hosanna

Sade, dis-moi... Hosanna

Callas Went Away

Callas went away but her voice forever stay

Callas went away, she went away

God bless you

Ah! Je relis sans cesse!

Je devrais les detruires!

Ces lettres, ces lettres!

Ces lettres, ces lettres!

Mea Culpa

Kyrie eleison

Christe eleison

Je ne dors plus

(The time has come)

Je te desire

(The time has come)

Prends-moi, je suis a toi

Mea culpa

Je veux aller au bout des mes fantasmes

Je sais que c'est interdit

Je suis folle, je m'abandonne

Mea culpa

Kyrie eleison

Christe eleison

Je suis la, et ailleurs

Je n'ai plus rien

Je deviens folle, je m'abandonne

Mea culpa

Je ne dors plus

Je te desire

Prends-moi, je suis a toi...

Kyrie eleison

Christe eleison

Je suis la, et ailleurs

Je veux tout

Quand tu veux, comme tu veux

Mea culpa

Kyrie eleison

The Voice & The Snake

The first bowl on the earth

The second bowl on the sea

The third bowl on the rivers

The fourth bowl on the sun

The fifth bowl on the beast

The sixth bowl on the stars

The seventh bowl on the air

And the earth turned grey

The sea turned black

The rivers turned red

The sun turned cold

The beast turned pale

The stars turned fast

The air turned to poison

Knocking On Forbidden Doors

Eia, ergo, Advocata nostra,

illos tuos misericordes oculos ad nos converte.

Et Iesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui...

Back to the Rivers of Belief

A: Way To Eternity

...quem quaerimus adjutorem, nisi te, Domine.

Sancte Deus, Sancte Fortis, Sancte misericors Salvator,

amarae morti ne tradas nos.

B: Hallelujah

Turn off the light, take a deep breath, and relax, relax...

Turn off the light, relax, take a deep breath, relax...

C: The Rivers Of Belief

Take me back to the rivers of belief

Take me back to the rivers of belief, my friend

I look inside my heart, I look inside my soul

I promise you I will return

And when the Lamb opened the seventh seal, silence covered the sky

Take me back to the rivers of belief

Take me back to the rivers of belief, my friend

I look inside my heart, I look inside my soul

I'm reaching out for you, let's hope one day

We'll rest in peace on my rivers of belief

more on hell...

here's the thing

if I decide to move I won't be able to afford a holiday this summer and after the winter I've had...I need a week er so at Toad Rocks with my friends!!

I talked to the offensive putz again last night
and
apparently he's going to be moving to a different (larger) apartment at the other end of the building at the end of this month

sooooo that means I'll maybe get a sane neighbour this time...
I won't hold my breath...
but I will bide my time....

and as for the Pickle....
I'm on a quest for lockin gas caps that'll fit her right now!!

oh and I forgot....a couple of my riding friends have offered to camp in my parking lot for a couple of nights to see if they can't "assist" the local constabulary in stopping the vandalism...but I don't think we're goin there.... hehehehehe

I'm living in white trash hell...

I'm livin in white trash hell.

last night I was kept up most of the night by yet another party next door

...I'd have complained to the building manager but we don't have one right now

this morning I got ready for work and went out to get on my trike to discover that some pissant has siphoned off my gas...

when I came back into the building to call the cops I discovered that the recycle bin out of the lobby had been stolen - small wonder the front door was proped open with a stone...

some security building huh?

this afternoon I get home from work and run into the ass hole from next door...

so I start in with..."havin a celebration last night were ya?"
(I'm about to give the stupid ass a large piece of my mind)

and he answers...
"yup I was celebratin...cos as of last night I'm the new building manager!"

fuck me

the Voice of Doom and I need to move

Symbolism...

I am often struck
speechless
by symbolism

as I am
by the music
that plays though out
the songbook of my life

and I weep...

the vision of a grieving mother
being offered a folded flag
as a token of a county's esteem

the ideology of a veteran
laying his own medal
on the coffin of a brother in arms
that didn't make it out

the depth and breath
of honor and
heart gripping glory
in the colors of our county

combined with
the heart wrenching
music of the era

brings on feelings
of utter loss

complete and total loss
for that which has not happened to me

for those that have been lost
that I never knew

and now
stand no chance
of ever meeting

I am bereft.

What a difference...

What a difference a day makes

spent 8 hours in the saddle today...
well...
likely 6 with 2 hrs in rest stops...

what a blast!

Damn!
I love this island at this time of year!!!

one of the ladies in my riding club picked out a new tshirt for me today
it says...

"if you don't like my attitude...Quit Talkin To Me!"

what do ya suppose she meant by that???
;-}

I'm for bed...
who the hell knew women had muscles in their chests??

ZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz