Sunday, 26 July 2009
Tuesday, 21 July 2009
"I would like to know a few very important things about you, along with some photographic evidence preferably. If you were going to allow us to spend a night at YOUR home, I would like to know the following:
What books are on your favorite shelf?
What DVD's are on your favorite shelf?
What are your TWO favorite cookbooks.
Select 1-3 recipes you will cook for your special guest.
What will we be drinking that is available?Feel free to add pictures/descriptions of anything else you want. I think we will be able to learn a lot about eachother, simply by seeing what we like to read, eat, drink, etc..." said Mr. C
Generally, unless somebody is already a pervert, or knows me well enough to realise I am adorable, any offer of a night at my place is greeted with a look of trepidation.
Still, let us press on.
I am going to assume sex is not on the cards. This is out of kindness to those of you who are nervous, and because I am fussy.
I live in London, close to the centre, in a very desirable part of town. This amuses me, since I am a poor student. As has been mentioned in previous entries, I live with three other friends, most notably, my beautiful boy (yes, it's platonic), Courtney.
We don't have a lounge in our flat, so this is really more of a tour of my room... For dinner, we would be popping over to Alistair's. His house is big, and has a dungeon.
Let's get the DVDs over with. (I like 'em, but books are better...) Actually I now realise Courtney has pinched several.
Lots on vintage clothing, burlesque philosophy, childhood books (I never throw away books), knitting books (oh, yes...)
Wall of books:
I am nursing Courtney's Umbrella plant back to health. The previous inmate, I mean housemate, attempted to kill it. See how it is now sprouting anew. I am pretty much more comfortable with animals and plants, despite being so outgoing. And note the rainbows, the colour. You just can't keep a clinically depressed goth-girl down.
Fillet steak with a wild mushroom sauce and thick duck gumbo, with rice.
If you do drink alcohol, as the notice-board says:
But see how subtley all of that hides under the yellow scarf beside my bed. You'd never know, and it is easily accessible.
Saturday, 18 July 2009
Thursday, 16 July 2009
Wednesday, 15 July 2009
Tuesday, 14 July 2009
Sunday, 12 July 2009
Saturday, 11 July 2009
Friday, 10 July 2009
Thursday, 9 July 2009
I wanted to leave things on a slight positive. I popped over to the Reichstag yesterday in a fit of the suicides. Alistair was quite sweet to me. Included in this sweetness was the moment when he came over to the sofa to share my cigarette. I was perched on its back looking out onto the balcony. He gently ran his fingertips up and down my back. I could feel the faint pressure of his nails. I love to be touched like this, it always gives me goosebumps. After a time, he smiled his mischievous smile, and pushed my hand against his crotch, and told me I was exciting.
Long live the small victory. My life pains me to distraction, and I generally look like a wreck. And in this particular instance, I looked like a wreck. Yet, I Miss Maisie, (that's Ms. to most of you), can still tighten pants, even when looking like a bag-lady who has just climbed out of a bin.
And actually, that does provide me with some comfort.
This is Sigyn:
The gentleman in chains, (if you could call him that), is her husband, Loki.
It struck me that Sigyn's name was mentioned in recent conversation, which has led to another train of thought.
Though relatively minor, she is my favourite of the Norse deities. Not only is she married to the mysterious, enigmatic, amoral, and at times, down right naughty, Loki, (obviously the god I'd most want to shag), she has one of the most touchingly beautiful myths surrounding her.
After Loki murdered Balder, the gods took their revenge. Thor prised three rocks out of the cavern floor of the underworld, and set them up on edge. A V-shape was split out of the top of the rocks. It was obvious that only magic bonds would hold Loki, and so Odin ordered the capture of Loki's two sons, Vali and Nari. The Gods charmed Vali into the shape of a wolf and he immediately set upon his brother, savaging him to death. Nari's entrails were collected and used to bind Loki so that he lay prone along the three rocks standing on edge: one stuck under his shoulders, the second under his loins, and the third under the hollows of his knees and ankles. Finally he was also bolted down with iron.
Skadi the giantess, daughter of Thiazzi and wife of Niord, caught a poisonous snake and trapped it by the tail so that it writhed above Loki's head, dripping its venom into his eyes. Each drop threw him into such terrific convulsions that the whole of Midgard shook.
Loki's faithful wife, Sigyn, vowed to the gods that she would sit with him forever, if only they would allow her to hold a basin under the poison drops. And there she now sits patiently beside her husband. However, every so often, her basin becomes full, and she must hurry away to empty it. In those moments, the snake's poison falls into Loki's eyes, and Midgard is once again shaken by earthquakes.
I know some Aphrodites, I know some Artemises, but I fear I am a Sigyn. Gah.
I almost snarfed my tea through my nose when I learned today that Sigyn means "victorious girlfriend". Oh, sweet laughter.
(Oh, and another thing, Loki once indulged in a spot of crossdressing in order to retrieve Thor's stolen hammer. And the parallels ride on...)