foxtongue: (26th birthday)

Me and Marissa, July 2007, by Lung

The ever groshing Meredith Yayanos (and now Alice and Sara) tagged me in the 16 Random Things meme, "Once you've been tagged, you have to write a note with sixteen random things, shortcomings, facts, habits or goals about you. At the end choose sixteen people to be tagged, listing their names and why you chose them. You have to tag the person who tagged you." I'm no good at this sort of meme, but I love rock star Mer (and Alice and Sara) with the warmth of six suns, so for her I will try.

1. "Even your voice has changed," he said, looking at me, hearing the wounded strawberry tears that caught all the way up from my heart to my tongue and out into the air. The freeway was so familiar I felt I could have drawn it in my sleep, divided the roads into lanes with a cunning accuracy I didn't understand I had. It was like the promised land, green signs marking exits as well as the graves of so many dreams. "I'm not sure what it is, but you sound softer, like you're an entirely different person here." "I am," I replied, "too full of history to burn."

2. I used to write fortunes, love letters, and wishes in spidery black ink on the dried leaves I found fallen under trees in the fall and let them go in the wind to fly without watching to see where they might land. They weren't for me, they were for other people to find.

3. Perhaps if I killed him, he would live on as a ghost, feather light and improperly dead. I woke up earlier this week, wishing I could secretly stab him in the heart with rusty kitchen scissors and open him up like he did to me with his fingers. The only thing that keeps me clear is that I don't think his murder would change anything. You can't erase memory like a stain. It would just mean a little less money coming in around my birthday.

4. When she speaks on the phone, I know my place is to quietly do nothing more than make encouraging noises in the appropriate gaps and pauses. She is like a colouring book with everything but the eyes filled in with religious illumination, as if someone spent thirty years merely shading in her skin. I love her, so I don't mind. Maybe someday it will be my turn to talk.

5. There is a pile of books in my room which do not belong to me. They are borrowed books that represent less what I would choose to read and more what people think I should. From top to bottom they are: Blade Runner: Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, Mistress of the Empire, The Complete Robot, The War of Flowers, How To Not Get Rich, (which I never read), So Far From God, A Little Larger Than The Known Universe, What Colour Is Your Parachute, (which I also never read), His Dark Materials, and Brandjam. Some of these books have been with me for years, yet I refuse to incorporate them in with my own books, believing somehow, tenuously, that they will eventually be given back to their respective owners.

6. I loved him like no one else I had ever met in my life, but recently it eased back and closed over. All it took was sleeping in his bed, knowing it wasn't mine, then driving away the next day. Now I'm absolutely stone terrified I will never care about anyone like that again.

7. For no particular reason, somewhere in my room is a birthday candle I kept from my third birthday cake.

8. Reading back entries into my journal can be like reliving the relationships I wrote about. When I started this journal, I had no idea what it would be like to have such a static essence of memory waiting at my fingertips. People I can talk blithely about now, or some that I mention not at all, are waiting for me there, frozen in time instead of (decently?) dissolved like jet streams. There is nothing in my life that can compare. My valued moments, they are not trapped in objects, they are there, freely available for the whole world to read. How I felt when that one danced or when that one cheated on me. It's unreal, the immediacy. Photographs are not the same.

9. Sometimes horrible pop music is just going to happen in my house. Life isn't all gamelan, mystery, poetry or jazz. Occasionally it is Blackstreet's No Diggety on repeat for an hour. I'm not sorry.

10. "Will you sleep with me later if I ask you to?" He looks at me, blinks a moment, and grins. (We've only just met, though we've known each other on-line for years.) For a moment it's like I've kissed him, then he ignores my question as if I never asked it, because it didn't need to be said, and reaches out his hand. The girl next to him look confused, uncertain if she heard what she thinks she did, my words a spectre in the tiny industrial kitchen.

11. I dislike religion and ritualistic behavior. It is fine and wonderful and inspiring that people like to make themselves meaningful, that people try to be more than themselves, but to require emblematic props to do it offends me somehow, as if intelligent people should know better, should know they do not require symbols to attain self worth. (Also, I will judge you if you actually believe in astrology of any kind. Quietly, but it will be there. You! The offended one. Half a point. Docked.)

12. The last time I was sick, it was because of him. We had quarelled. I had walked home. It was freezing. Standing within his gravity again was sensory overload. Had it really almost been an entire year? My hands shaking as we said hello. Watching him stand at the podium, I tried to pretend I was a solid being, but my eyes tripped, caught by the enigmatic living miracle of his face. He still had me on a string. I didn't want even a week to go by without a hello, but after the last time we'd seen each other he wouldn't even answer the phone when I called. Instead I had to crash his party, all cameras and politicians, as if I was welcome, as if it were planned instead of a lucky accident of bus arrival.

13. If there is a book in the lavatory, it's because I like to read while I brush my teeth.

14. Though Marissa, (who I later renamed Mishka, which stuck), and I were ten when we met, neither one of us had pierced ears. Mine because my parents thought it was cruel to do to a baby, her because her parents treated it as a coming of age. From this, I couldn't have cared less while she could not wait for her sixteenth birthday. As it approached, she was practically vibrating with excitement about how she was finally going to get it done, so for her birthday party, I gathered all of our mutual friends together at the mall downtown to get our ears pierced with her in solidarity. (This took some managing, as one of the boys we knew, Charles, had a highly evangelical mother, who thought this was a terrible sin somehow). After an hour of waiting for her and calling her in vain, we finally got a hold of her. She couldn't make it and had completely forgotten to tell us to call it off. Rolling our eyes, the group of us went through with one ear of the procedure anyway, with the intention to do the other one with her later. About a month after this, she went off with her mother one afternoon and had them done alone at a tattoo parlour, forgetting again about our group effort-in-waiting. As a result, I still only have my left ear pierced. For all I know, so does everyone else involved.

15. "When my husband came back from Iraq," she said, and it struck me as it has before, completely new again, "I am in a foreign country". Curled on the bed with my friends, it was easy to forget, the same way it didn't occur to me later while I was away on my trip. Even when guns were involved. Too much about the USA will always feel implicitly like the word belonging.

16. I will not tag anyone in a meme. It is far too interesting to see who will pick it up for themselves without prompting.*

Where it's gone from here: Ben Peek, Duncan Shields, Sarah Edwards-Noelle.
foxtongue: (snow)
Warren started a good New Year's tradition last year, asking his readers to post a new photo of themselves along with a message to their future selves. I took part and promptly forgot about it, until he posted again this year, reminding everyone to "Go back and look. Drop a message back there to your past self, and let them know how things went.".

Looking back was a profoundly odd experience, both distant and intimate, and my post felt incredibly difficult to answer, as well as follow up. It is generally the difficult things, however, which are later the most worthwhile, so I took part again, and expect to keep doing so for as many years as I remember.

This is my letter for this year, to the Jhayne of 2010:

You just took this picture with the camera that Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer's photographer gave you to use in lieu of your dead one. It's been that kind of year. Hold onto the wonder of that, hold onto that progress and use it to the last possible drop.

Unfortunately, when you took this picture you had to hold the lens on by hand because the bouncer who searched your bag last night dropped it onto cement and cracked the lens. It's been that kind of year too.

Other things have happened which have been just as unexpected in both directions. You broke off with That 1 Guy, but met David, and have been trying to make a life with him to some stable success.

You traveled more this year than you have since you were a child, and for the first time you revisited every place you've called home: Vancouver, Montreal, Toronto, L.A., and San Fransisco. (The friends you made in those places are important. Keep in touch. Send those packages you've been thinking about, it's never too late.)

This upcoming year, you're going to start selling prints and get more serious about creating. You've been supporting David, and that's been taking a lot out of you, but once he gets a job, insist on that time for yourself. Insist that you keep up the 365 with no slacking. I want you to write more as well, to stay up late and pound on the keys about something you care about, and see if you can't post every day, too.

That said, I want you outside more, too. You live in Vancouver, it's got trees and things, you might as well go visit them once and awhile. I know you want to spend all your time working to pull yourself out of debt, but there are other priorities too, and you've well discovered that keeping up the network will net you enough travel to keep you from going completely crazy, so don't worry about it so much. Find more interesting things to be concerned about. The more you go outside, the more you meet people, the more likely you are to fall in love. You miss being in love, I know, because I'm you and it aches inside like an essential part of your life has been scraped hollow.

Also, go to New York. You know why. And get your driver's licence. And your passport. There are people who have said they will pay for it. Stop feeling too indebted and bloody well take them up on it, or I'll come over there and thrash you, see if I don't.

ps. learn to code, too, and get that website happening. a huge chunk of your life is on hold because you don't know how to make what you need.
foxtongue: (snow)
January - Seattle was the escape I needed. Not only does it have a refreshing amount of honest-to-mercy architectural and social diversity, it seems everyone I know there is brilliant, fun, and good-looking.*

February - He's young in that way that teenage girls find attractive, fizzing with ginger enthusiasm, wiry, laughing, his arms beaten with a couple of tattoos.

March - Ray and I are going sailing on a Viking War-ship tomorrow! Anyone want to come?

April - Once upon a time when time was shivering apart and memories seemed more real than reality, the girl who fell from the sky and the west coast hacker king came to an agreement.

May - A clean uniform of friendship, tattered in places, worn in the elbows and the shoulders, but strong all the same. I think of stone, how it erodes too slow to see, though it shapes itself to the wind almost perfectly.

June - Walking across the street in the rain, there's someone in front of me with a spiderman brand popsicle, the blue eyes two wan gum-balls that look like they were manufactured years before I was born.

July - I've been mistaken for a porn star.

August - Something's wrong with my internet at home. It's corpse blood sluggish, and flickering faster than an animated disco.

September - The weekend was spent moving David from his cave apartment of the mysterious smells to a pleasantly crooked #9932CC-darkorchid room in an old heritage style house on Arbutus street, right across the street from the Ridge Theater.

October - Something I can't seem to get over is how much mind-bogglingly delicious food there is in Montreal, for incredibly cheap.

November - We've decided to paint the guest room library the colours of a Hypselodoris nudibranch bullock, but darker and a bit richer, leaving us with aubergine, pumpkin, sunflower mustard, and crimson red.

December - Today we're hitting up, (or on, your pick), Lou O'Bedlam, Frederick's of Hollywood, Kevin again, (who will hopefully have recovered from his sudden death-flu), and somewhere delicious to eat, hopefully in Venice, with dear Crunchy of Mutaytor if we can line up with her lunchbreak.
foxtongue: (Default)

Obama Rolling.

Because he's never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you,
never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye, never gonna tell a lie and hurt you.
foxtongue: (beseech)
take me somewhere nice

The Impossible Quiz

I'm stuck on #92.
foxtongue: (Default)

Darling Min has tagged me with The Sentence Meme. Her result was so charming, I could not resist.

photobooth 2000
Originally uploaded by Theremina.

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next three sentences in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don't dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.
6. Tag five other people to do the same.

"The map does puzzle Tantivy. It cannot be put down to the usual loud-mouthed American ass-banditry, except as a fraternity-boy reflex in a vacuum, a reflex Slothrop can't help, barking on into an empty lab, into a wormhole of echoing hallways, long after their need has vanished and the brothers gone to WW II and their chances for death. Slothrop really doesn't like to talk about his girls: Tantivy has to steer him diplomatically, even now."

... from Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon.

This is where instruction number 6 asks me to place five of your names in a row. However, rather than pick and prod at the lot of you, I'm going to add two favourite passages from Books I Have Never Read.

”The light changes and he has that wish again: that every step he ever took left a neon footprint. Every step, from his first to these. That way he could catch up with himself, track himself through the city and years. See that the last time he walked this block he was tipsy or in love. Here determined, there aimless like today, no particular place to go. If he could see his footprints, he’d know his uncharted territories, what was yet, and where never to return. Some of the old stores are gone since last time. What comes at their address is bright and shiny like new keys. New keys fit new locks. It is rare here that the new establishment is more downscale and if only he could make his self and ideas like real estate: ever higher. God knows he has tried to keep up with the changing market but his new shirt will only go so far- once they step inside they recognize the same old merchandise and demur. He has swept up, his brain gets so dingy sometimes, but they will not see his renovations and he is a dead trade, something remembered only by old phonebooks. Blacksmith, knife sharpener. Walk faster."

...from The Colossus of New York by Colson Whitehead.

"From the sky a frail black fragment, tumbling as in a dream, drifts down to settle on my arm. Upon it, barely visible against its black, the faintest silver tracery of lines may yet be seen: a gentle curve that is perhaps a stream or else some buried lane, the clustered spidermarks that may be trees viewed from above.

It breaks against my wrist and falls to dust, caught by the wind to scatter over the cremation fields."

... from Voice of the Fire by Alan Moore.
foxtongue: (skatia)
Doomsday Clock moved closer to midnight.

The lovely [ profile] _griffy_ tagged me for the Five Things People Would Be Unlikely To Know About You meme going around. I'm wretched at these, but she is a dear, so I'm going to acquiesce.

1. I take his hand to mine, press the palms together. "Our hands are almost the same size. I hate that I forget these things," I frown, "but I do." Our fingers lace and a concrete feeling of being helpless in the face of wind flows through me. He feel delicate, as if I could collect him effortlessly in the curve of my arms, curled like a black and ivory flower. He glowed at my birthday present and flashed it to everyone, smile like a searchlight, showing me off, my cleverness, my care. I am drowning for affection, but I can tell I've been torn down too much. My best efforts to memorize him, the way he danced in his seat, beating a musical tattoo against the table at the restaurant, won't be enough. I will forget, these moments will fade, lost in the wreckage. Stricken with this thought, it is all I can do to put my eyes elsewhere. My role is that of the cherished escape, the lovely creature that will stay witty and safe and warm. To be otherwise would be to admit defeat. I look down at the table with relief when someone launches into a story about working with the Smothers Brothers and try to genuinely smile at the Bill Cosby anecdotes.

2. Before my accident, I was quietly training to be an aerialist. I loved the feel of the cloth, the clever twists that let me safely drop from the ceiling to hang by one ankle, gently spinning, four feet from the painful ground, the ability it grant me to fly. My fall from grace, I have never forgiven.
My Valentinr - foxtongue

3. "I really do love you, you know, with what is left of my heart," I whispered. Innocent of indecency, those were the words pushing at me through the dark, insisting in spite of the forsaken ache in my chest and the possibility that our intelligent friend in the next bed was only feigning sleep. He said nothing in reply, but held me tighter.

4. I didn't wear skirts until I was 17. I still don't wear skirts that hem above my knees unless I'm going dancing.

5. Filling in for my ferret is a small silver pin fashioned to look like one that I wear on my coat lapel. I bought it during the holidays, though I couldn't strictly afford it, because I've been beginning to find myself standing in my dark kitchen at four in the morning, cuddling his tiny frozen body, and something in me is aware that sort of behavior is so generally frowned upon that a substitute must be made. Thirty dollars is worth a more conventional flavour of sanity.
foxtongue: (Default)
get code for this box here.
January 27th is the Second Annual

LiveJournal Rabbit Hole Day!

Fall down the Rabbit Hole for 24 hours and see what's there. It will be beautiful.

foxtongue: (snow)

A. FOUR JOBS YOU'VE HAD IN YOUR LIFE (all previous jobs):
1. He sent me a letter
2. I met him dancing, I was sitting on the stairs
3. Brought to his theater, we had a friend in common
4. It was a new place and he was standing by the bar

1. When I replied, I laughed, he thought I would know him
2. He tapped me on the shoulder, acted like I knew him
3. I took him up on a roof, surprised he would not know it
4. We went home together, though we didn't know each other

1. Smiling, we corresponded every day
2. I was stunned to discover he had a wife
3. Standing outside his window was so difficult and necessary
4. In the cab, his english was better than mine

1. There were happy pictures, and clever sounds, and fun videos.
2. I kissed him on the cheek and told him to ask permission first.
3. My lips were hungry and two years later, so were his
4. His apartment was neat, plants in the window, books in the glass table

1. I ran home through the park to meet him on-line
2. We held hands when we walked and strangers told us we looked good together
3. Curled up on the couch, slowly we curled into each other
4. I sat on the counter and he explained his red wine

1. Description sufficed to make my bed less lonely
2. When I slept over, it was on his side of the bed, not hers
3. Queen size bed now and we still almost fell off
4. There was a wide mirror above the bed framed by two guitars

1. johnny boy - U are the generation who bought more shoes and u get what you deserve
2. lamb - gorecki
3. emilie simon - graine de etoile, lamb - gabriel
4. marvin gaye - let's get it on

1. Then the letters came less frequently and I didn't know why
2. Eventually I couldn't deal with the fact he was married
3. He was so beautiful, but I knew he never loved me
4. The next morning wasn't too late, but there was a phone-call

1. Hurt, I assumed that work was taking his time
2. Hurt, I broke down, dissolved, died.
3. Hurt, I tried to tell myself not to believe in illusions
4. Hurt, I explained to myself that it's what I should have expected.

1. Then I finally went for a surprise visit.
2. He divorced the wife, I took him back, he went away on a trip.
3. He never calls, so I walk over to his house at night.
4. Today he called me back, canceled our plans.

1. There was another woman.
2. There were two other women.
3. There might never be anyone.
4. There's another woman in potentia.

1. He never apologized.
2. I'm fragile too.
3. Living with little is better than nothing.
4. At least he's sorry.

foxtongue: (uh-huh)
A quarter to having to go to work and I'm still being kept up at night. Left over hey you, I don't think so, let's not talk. It feels like sitting at a crowded bar alone. It's too bad I don't drink. In these shoes, it's not like I could spin on my heel. One by one, these secrets come in and roost. Little feathered weights that never fly away. Rocks to throw into the ocean that crawl home to sleep in the lungs at night. I want another trip to Seattle, another shot at visiting the Roq La Rue gallery, another day with my hands on brushed steel, but most importantly, six hours trapped in a car with someone I could talk to. Victoria's a chance too, closer and with places to stay overnight. There are beds there that would welcome me and whomever I brought with me. I float in an interesting sea. Mishka's birthday was recently, I should bring her something. Nicholas had his heart trapped, I should shake her hand. There are reasons, social outings, let's sit on this tiny piece of seawall and look at the water, just like everywhere else with a shore. I'm carrying polished stones, let me carve my name upon them. Let me pretend I can believe in my silent stories.

Speaking feels like thorns pricking my tongue. It's dizzying. I can't focus on anything important to me. There are skeins of words waiting for me, but I can't untangle my fingers from the knots I made when I spun basic dried straw into gold. Desire's a powerful thing, I'd like to let some out to play, but first I have to collect it like dew in a leaf before dawn, else the charm won't charm, the curiosity will prove itself to be a wretched liar.

From [ profile] thenowhere:

Calling all everyones out there.
I'm going to turn off IP logging.
Then I'm gonna turn on screening.

You know what your part is?

Anonymously Comment. That way the world can read your secret with me. I don't want to share something with everyone if you thought you were only sharing it with me.

Tell me a secret. A nasty, awful, atrocious secret. And it really ought to be yours, though since things will be anonymous, eh, who can tell? Name no names, simply because if your secret involves anyone else, it's not just your secret to tell. I'm going to screen the replies to this one, only because I don't wanna see a flame war about someone going 'ZOMFG U R TEH SICKOO!!!!1'

You have a hundred thousand chances in a lifetime to confess your fears and your weaknesses, but you rarely see them. So I'm pointing one out, right here, right now.

Tell the whole world that secret. Let it out.

anonymous commenting fixed.
foxtongue: (sci-fi kitchen)

she knows what kissing's like
Originally uploaded by Foxtongue.
Mice infected with the Bubonic Plague are missing.

Sitting on the floor felt like a miniature picnic. Instead of a blanket, I had a book. Instead of a park, I had a closet-room full of costumes. Raising my eyes from the page to fetch my grapes, my head brushed the petticoats of a dozen frnech maids waiting on hangers, my hand grazed the hems of a dozen schoolgirl outfits. Next to me was a box of ballgags and next to that was one of garterbelts. My back leaned against a cheap plastic mirror and I faced a drawerchest full of stockings in crunchy plastic packages. It's quiet there, the soppy unimaginative music can't find me in among the skimpy pieces of cheap fabric. I didn't think it was possible to suck the soul from a Phil Collings song. Work had been dragging, the clock, I swear, occasionally ticking backward. Customers were few and young and silly, boys laughing nervously and winding up the annoying hopping penis with feet.

Light bulb malfunction at school sends 18 to hospital with radiation burns.

Later was better, the day got it's feet under it and began to stride. I had a pleasant interlude with a friend of mine from SFU, teaching him how to use a paddle in such a way to leave marks before he remembered who I was, and Aiden snuck in breifly to ask me to dinner while my manager was vaccuming the back. I learned how to properly mark costumes down as restocked, something that had been baffling me, as every employee possible had told me to do it differently, a practice rumoured to be common in retail that I had never encountered before and hope to avoid in future. I'm trying to grasp the essentials of shop-front politics, but so far I have only, "Don't volunteer any information that doesn't sell something." which doesn't seem incredibly helpful.

A blind man is accused of raping his own guide dog.

As if counterpoint to the early afternoon, dinner was splendid. I let myself out at nine to find Ryan and Aiden waiting out front looking incongruous, like a foppish rentboy and his thug pimp or rough and tumble boyfriend, and we walked up Davie to Denman with intent to go to Guu, a japanese pub known for it's sincerely authentic food and drink. Our plans was thwarted, however, by my fish sensitivity, the air thick enough with it to set me leaning against the outside, choking to breathe, after only stepping foot in the door. It was a pity, the place looked interesting, the waiters shouting orders to the kitchen and the bar crowded by chattering people sipping odd looking beverages. However, we ended up at Moxies, who, before we left, allowed us to order a side dish of dry ice, so I suspect we had far more fun than anything that strange alcohol might have offered.

A Black Velvet Art Flickr Pool.

meme from [ profile] riotlounge: If you have anything to say to the person who posts this, say it to them. If you love them, tell them. If you hate them, tell them. Whatever you have to say to this person, even if its something you're having trouble saying, if the person posts this entry, say it to them. You may never get a chance to, so just do it. Warning: Do not post this in your journal unless you really want people to do it. I expect good things but I expect bad things as well, and that is something you have to take into consideration. Not all of what you hear will be good. Comments will be screened if I figure out how. All comments are screened.
foxtongue: (Default)
1. Go here.
2. Pass it on.
my answers )
foxtongue: (Default)
-- Name: jhayne
-- Birthplace: can't recall
-- Current Location: vancouver canada
-- Eye Color: bluegray
-- Hair Color: plum
-- Height: 5'8"
-- Righty or Lefty: ambidexterity was beaten out of me by a grade 4 teacher from the 18oo's

-- Your heritage: canadian, (gibson & holmes)
-- Your weakness: beauty, slender sweet pale girls with waves of long dark hair
-- Your fears: seaweed
-- Your perfect pizza: taco pizza, lettuce, tomatoes, mushrooms, cheese and turkey hamburger topped with sour cream
-- Goal you'd like to achieve: globetrotting

-- Your most overused phrase on AIM: n/a
-- Your thoughts first waking up: another useless day. joy.
-- Your best physical feature: my ability to sit still for the camera, though I'm sure that doesn't count - any takers on this question?
-- Your bedtime: depends on my love and when dinner is ready

-- Pepsi or Coke: I can think of more pleasant things to inbibe than malted battery acid, such as juice.
-- McDonald's or Burger King: as if I would know? more carrots!
-- Single or group dates: people still date? I wonder about that. It seeems so.. antiquidated. Like certain approaches to marriage or parlours.
-- Adidas or Nike: agnostic
-- Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: note the cokeVSpepsi question
-- Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate
-- Cappuccino or coffee: erm... the one with chocolate

-- Smoke: inscence, candles, oil lamps
-- Cuss: no thank you
-- Sing: not anymore
-- Take a shower every day: usually, when m'love gets home from work we shower
-- Have a crush(es): only on fictional charactors.
-- Do you think you've been in love: seems to be the case.
-- Want to go to college: not particularly
-- Like high school: I suppose theoretically it's possible, that whole "best days of your lives" thing can't be ENTIRELY a marketing scheme, but not personally my own choice.
-- Want to get married: if someone will pay for me to have a huge sinful wedding gown, then I'd do it. For the dress. Like this one:

Ian Stuart 'valentine'

-- Believe in yourself: um. trick question?
-- Get motion sickness: only on an empty stomach
-- Think you're attractive: rarely, especially these days, in my after-accident lethargy
-- Think you're a health freak: not militant enough to be labeled freak
-- Get along with your parents: mum's growing into a flake, but a happy one and that's enough for me. I haven't a father. He went insane.
-- Like thunderstorms: as many as possible. (ghods I miss TO lightning!)
-- Play an instrument: the french horn. so obscure, yet a pop icon. how trite of me.

In the past month . . .
-- Drank alcohol: no
-- Smoked: n/a
-- Done a drug: sugar + love + joy = euphoric
-- Had sex: y
-- Made out: y
-- Gone on a date: um... no?
-- Gone to the mall?: no
-- Eaten an entire box of Oreos: hmmm. do I get milk with that?
-- Eaten sushi: *shudders*
-- Been on stage: well - on stages, yes - I do work in theatre.
-- Been dumped: there was an attempt. as I recall it broke two guitars...
-- Gone skating: no
-- Made homemade cookies: y
-- Gone skinny dipping: not for years
-- Dyed your hair: *sniffles* no
-- Stolen anything: stole kisses. hah

Ever . . .
-- Played a game that required removal of clothing: planning on it. Got m'love strip-chocolate for our 2 year anniversary but haven't had time to try it yet.
-- Been trashed or extremely intoxicated: never
-- Been caught doing something?: um... what?
-- Been called a tease: sure
-- Gotten beaten up: well - they tried.
-- Shoplifted: yes
-- Changed who you were to fit in: no

-- Age you hope to be married: what an odd question
-- Numbers and Names of Children: numbers! ahahaah. Yes, my first little girl will be named 6457.
-- Describe your Dream Wedding: after I go play with barbie, right?
-- How do you want to die: after seeing enough of the world and achieving enough to be satisfied
-- Where you want to go to college: n/a
-- What do you want to be when you grow up: my answer to this has always been "taller", but I'm fairly sure I've stopped growing upwards. Now I don't have an answer.
-- Country would you most like to visit: erm.. England?

In a guy/girl . . .
-- Best eye color? I fell in love with gold eyes once. Golden eyes and redblack hair.
-- Best hair color? for some reason dark hair frames faces better for me. (damn my natural blonde. yech)
-- Short or long hair: up to them, isn't it?
-- Height: um.. see above
-- Best weight: healthy
-- Best articles of clothing: I am not undersatnding these questions.
-- Best first date location: ditto
-- Best first kiss location: um - wherever it happens, wouldn't it be?

-- Number of drugs taken illegally: I accidently took some of an adults acid when I was a child, and I've been around enough potsmokers to have inhaled a fair share, (this is bc, after all), so.. 2
oh - and frankie tried to put something in my drink, but it didn't work apparently due to my consumption of aroange juice, so... 2 1/2?
-- Number of people I could trust with my life: I suppose any of my close friends, though it would strongly depend on what we were doing. I wouldn't trust, say, Marissa flying the same way I would trust Ray.
-- Number of CDs that I own: maybe 20?
-- Number of piercings: one in my left ear, hopefully this friday I will add onto that a tiny one on my nosey.
-- Number of tattoos: none
-- Number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper?: um... lots
-- Number of scars on my body: no clue
-- Number of things in my past that I regret: not many. a winter.
foxtongue: (Default)
You'd turn into a Snowleopard! Like a snowleopard
you are quiet, shy and not seen much and find
it hard to talk to people, but dont really mind
being by yourself. However once you have gotten
over your shyness and are relaxed you are so
different it can be scary! You have a few close
friends who can grasp your strange ways. You
are generally laid back but when you get angry
you get angry and can be very vicious and a
force to be recond with, though few people ever
see this.

What animal would you turn into?
brought to you by Quizilla

You are floating on a sea of reeds
You are Abstract. Not everyone understands you, but
you weren't meant to be straightforward. You
try to never do the obvious, and you might be a
very nonverbal person. You're emotionally
charged and you try to avoid pretense. Some see
you as mysterious, but you don't try to be.

Art Thou? -Your Art Style Personality
brought to you by Quizilla
foxtongue: (Default)
LJ Barcode
LJ username:
foxtongue: (Default)
Yes, More Deppness. This is kind of sad. I'm turning into a fangirl or something. Damn. Yummyness.

You are Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow from
"Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of
the Black Pearl." You are very eccentric
and have probably the coolest walk in the
world. You are agile and quick to think as well
as witty and strong. You also have very cool
hair and facial hair. You rock!

Which Johnny Depp Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

In other news. Today I ate a PopTart. *fear*


foxtongue: (Default)

April 2012

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