14.Sep.2003

take a break, code girl.

--

let us go there, you and i

My weekends are low-key, but sex-tainted, in one form or another. Copious coding has made me dream in cascading style sheets, though I'm not sure what this says about me as a bipedal entity.

--

My mother will be in the hospital for ten to fourteen more days, for observation. When she's released, she will require professional HomeCare. Right now, she has a drain inserted into her pancreas, which releases bacterial fluids. She has learned how to use a phone again. Mentally, she's stabilizing. All of this is good news for my familial circuit.

--

Movies have become a prominent part of who I am; tonight's was Till Human Voices Wake Us with Guy Pearce and the absurdly beautiful Helena Bonham Carter. The film was relatively artistic and indubitably Australian. Being the sentimental fuck that I am, who indulges in emotional films lamenting the loss of true love, I enjoyed it as viscerally and agonizingly as possible. The use of T.S. Eliot is always a plus with me.

I become lost in subtle, romantic pauses in anything, still. The movie ran nakedly amok with them, and it evoked images trilling with momentary completion, later to be replaced with unequivocal yearning.

If you are a raging, twilight-faced, head-tilting, lip-nibbling sap down to the very stark core of you as I am, I suggest you check this out. Cynics, beware. though it may provide you fodder for your vitriol.

Or, hackneyed terminology proceeding, see it because Helena Bonham Carter is H O T.

--

I am celebrating the rebirth of my sexual nature at ear-shattering decibels. Unfortunately, I regret to inform you that the violent release of orgasmic endorphins still yields headaches, which automatically conflicts their shimmery little analgesic effects. It is, however, great to be back, tension-stirred nociceptors intact.

--

Pop Song Numero Uno came to fruition the other night, and it's frequently getting better. On a more introspective note, I've been looping Nick Drake songs (preferably 'Cello Song' and 'Fruit Tree') to beckon motivation. There also arose a polyphonic piece unwittingly inspired by my brother.

The last time I bombarded him with a private concert, he surprised me by shedding to a sensitive skin and simply proclaiming, "Beautiful."

To shift the mood, he added, "But you really need to get the damned piano tuned."

--

time & machine