Effing Perverts

I get my share of depraved visitors who've googled things like viscera, blood, agonal breathing, air hunger, etc. But my last post has drawn the very dregs of society, who have bounced on and off of WLPF searching for "dead girls" and "cute little girls".

So, to all you child-raping perverts, disappointed that there's no trapped prey here, you are so fucking busted.


Disgusted,


Cindy

There Are Cute Little Dead Girls...

...and there are cute little dead girls. Lenore is the cutest of all.

I've finally found the animated strips of Roman Dirge's Lenore: The Cute Little Dead Girl, which used to be linked to his sight, but were lost in cyber limbo the last two years. They've been restored at a Nightrose sight--the link located in my Worthy Blogs list for your convenience. My favorite strips are Li'l Ballerina, Bloaty the Frog, Ragamuffin, And The Taxidermy.
Morbid, funny, cute, and creepy digital music. Check it out folks.

Gleefully,



Cindy

Grieving the Ephemeral; Celebrating the Tangible

A very good friend of mine is mourning the death of someone very close to her today. My friend is smart, evolved, enlightened, and psychic. And for all her enmeshment in spirit, she is devasated by the loss of her beloved friend. My friend lost someone who had been both a mother figure and a best friend, and was an enlightened soul herself. But her death, the utter stopping and stilling of her physical and finite body has my friend beside herself with grief.

Of course.

Funny. This imperfect shell, this pocked and puffy suit, flawed and blemished and clumsy--this is what our loved ones will miss. They will grieve this body in its dumb and wooden state, no matter that we didn't lose that 10 pounds, or 30. No matter that our skin wasn't creamy soft. No matter that we couldn't run a 3 minute mile.

And our loved ones will miss us--for we will all be missed eventually. They will grieve the stilled body, not because of the body itself, but because of the spirit which imbued it. This is how every one of us matters to everyone else in the end. This is how we are loved, and how we love others.

If we could grieve our own bodies, understanding what truly endears us to other souls, would we ever hold anything back?



Somberly,



Cindy

Johnny Freakin' Depp

"Do you like me now?" asks the Earl of Rochester, John Wilmot, Johnny Depp's debauched character in The Libertine.

Yes, Johnny, I like you now. There isn't a makeup artist skilled enough to make me not like you. I liked you, depraved and wicked and brilliant all the same in your character's prettier days, and I liked you still, repentant and rotting on your deathbed as the Earl. I liked your accent better in Pirates of the Caribbean, but you rocked the 17th century Brian May/Kevin DuBrow wig, dude.

I really liked your androgynous Willy Wonka, and your innocent Neverland character. I even like you in stuff I've never seen you in, because I'm sure your lips and eyes were great in those flicks too.

I didn't care for you in 21 Jump Street--just wasn't my cup of tea.

But I really do like you--pirate, writer, asshole, writer, chocolatier--whatever you wanna be, baby.



Breathily,


Cindy

A Rational Mind In An Irrational World

Of course I'm not superstitious. It's bad luck to be superstitious.



Briefly,

Cindy

Crawling Back Into My Cave

A moment of silence please. Or a month of it.

Shhhhh...

Cindy

It's Alive! It's Alive!

I've posted two new poems on my Blood Blog.

Later Dudes,

Cindy

Taking a Break Folks

Hi all. I'm taking some time off of writing and blogging, so please entertain yourselves with my archives, and visit the Worthy Blogs listed to your right. Just feelilng a little exhausted these days. I'll return in a couple of weeks, unless I get a hair up my butt and just have to tell you about it.


All used up,


Cindy