Head in the sand, Apoligies warranted

I could apologize for my absence,
the upcoming post must hint at the fact that I only use this blog when I am a bit troubled, you will be wrong, because the last three months or so have been the toughest months I have ever had to live. more on that later.

lets talk about black pits and life sucking holes.

The new bio for my twitter handle is : sometimes I want to kill myself.

Anyone who knows me, and i am actually sad to say very few of the people who think they know me, actually do so, but the one or two who do, are probably not alarmed at my change of my bio, and my random re appearance on this blog, if they actually read it those fucking twats.

I have been reminded severally that burying my head in the sand and kicking up my legs, spread in manner of those head stands we do in yoga gets suffocating after a time, well yes, it is sand after all innit? But you know, its a good way of keeping your morbid and doomed reality at bay because the sun can't scorch me if my head is in a warm moist bed of salty beach sand and the breeze between my thighs sort of gets me off. oh come on, you know that was coming, that's why you read it, slut.

on and on, I must stop with going off the course, i am trying to explain why my life is doomed.

a friend of mine is in a dark hole, it seems I cannot make normal friends, for fuck sake. like why the fuck do we all have to have daddy issues, abandonment issues and a penchant for substance and self abuse?
But on and on, the only comfort I could give her was, eat pineapples, it will help with the happy juices that make your other happy juices taste better than artichokes and asparagus. bleurgh.

I could apologize for that, but I won't, and here is why;

it does not get better.
to anyone i have ever told that it gets better,

i could apologize for that too, but I actually believed it.

to anyone who told me it does get better. screw your logic and false hope.

no, the voices in your head telling you you are not smart enough, pretty enough, exciting enough will never go away.

you can however bury your head in the sand and throw open your legs and let the beach breeze waft between your legs,

but either a horrendously mutated sea creature will pay homage to your probably moist orifices

or you will suffocate.

either way, you pull your head out, let the sun scorch you, listen to the voices in your head rejoice at a chance to feast at your already diminishing soul, and then you go right back to burying it in the sand.

This cycle is tedious,

Sometimes darlings, I wanna kill myself.

ta-ta

These Clouds and Those Castles

I can't seem to stop floating around on this cloud. Wherever it goes, I go with it. Only I wish it was sunny enough for it to disappear. Land on the ground, on my own feet and look up at the skies and it won't matter if the sky is such a colour that it would blind me. That kind of blue that reminds you of magnolias and the smell of honeysuckle.
But this cloud takes me further and further away from what I know and what I should remember. It takes me to sites I should be awed to see, but instead it scares me, and it leaves me grasping at those gossamer strands, not being really able to hang on to anything because its only wisps and smoke.
This cloud floats over to the Tibetian plateau, and its just miles and miles of pure white. It stops and I cannot tell from which side we flew in, I cannot tell how far left, or right, north or left I am from home. I want to cry when I realise I can't tell where home is. I don't think, in my years of wandering I have ever felt so lost. Here I am, taking in the most pure of all sites, with the cold seeping into my skin, into my bones and it is not home I miss, because I don't know what that word means anymore. They (the whispers of the wind) tell me that home is where your heart is. But in this cold and lonesome place, I can't quite seem to remember where that is either.
I'm crying now, but you wouldn't be able to tell because the tears freeze on my chaffed cheeks. I feel them though, solidifying, laying claim, and then cracking ever so lightly.
I wonder why the cloud brought me here today. To remind me just how lonesome I am? I doubt it, it knows even when its floating over a warm sea and I can dip my toes into the deeper blue pond, unlike the blue I crave, that I am always alone.
So why?
So I sit here, and try to conjure images that would warm me.
The smell of my mothers perfume as she leans over me to look at the scrapes on my knees only makes me sob now. So I sob, because I can do nothing else.
The sound of early morning traffic only makes me panic now, because I know as I am floating somewhere, the world is passing me by, and no..no..I can't.
The sound that fills the air is my sobs now. and it echoes even though it shouldn't and as if it reads my mind, a gust of wind blows and takes away the sound of it. I am glad. It is ever so pitiful and resonates with my anguish even more. So I sob, until I cannot breathe anymore. I sob until my lungs fight over each other for air. And the cloud grows warm and I cannot help crying some more because I know it is merciful.
The cloud grows warmer and warmer still until it burns. and suddenly I am on my feet in a field thick with the smell of jasmines and the sun on my face.
That is what mercy smells like.

Princess Rants.

Bitches,
So I left the internet because you all annoyed me. yes. i left blogger for longer because my anger and resentment towards you all blocked my brain. fuck you.
I came back on twitter and reclaimed my throne. I'm a princess now, deal with it.
This is the biggest rant i may ever make online, and I can rant. and this will be my last non-narrative post on this blog. follow Invasion of Art and Confuzzled Lawyer.
Here is a list of things that irk me. not necessarily in that order.

1- ONLINE CRUSADERS
So facebook has done the society disfavor by allowing people to post more than one five hundred and something words as status update. worst still, it allows people to SHARE these status.
Cue in people who have not discovered blogs, or the 'Notes' bar on their page, and decide to write these long ass posts filled with self righteous posts about their thoughts on particular leaders, artists, and the society in general. NO. just no! this princess will unfriend, and block any twat who dares 'share' this 'wisdom' on my page. like i say, I cannot tell you what to post on your facebook/twitter (but Daddy is working on getting me those rights) but I can control what i want to read on MY homepage.
One particular peasant who shot to fame with a piece on an irrelevant little man has even started a SOCIETY OF SMALL MINDED LITTLE CUNTS. they even have a name for themselves, if it wasn't for this human rights crap, i would have you all lynched.
 Riddle me this, who died and made you the face/voice of moral code??

2- TWITTER FOLLOWERS
 Now y'all know this princess loves her twitter. BUT WHY WOULD YOU FOLLOW ME, NOT TWEET ME, and then unacatch feelings juu I haven't followed you back???
OOOR
You follow, me, I follow you, you unfollow me, I unfollow you, you follow me, i follow you, you unfollow me, and i block your leper ass??? and then you inbox me, some crap??

hoooneeeeyyy aint nobody got time for dat

3- INBOX ME PLEASE OMG
 I have one facebook rule, i will like your status, LOL at all the relevant places, and share silly things you share. THAT IS NOT AN INVITE TO INBOX ME. sometimes, i feel nice enough to reply to your inboxes, because well, i like community services. WE ARE NOT BFFS. do not comment on my status like you know what my deal is. i will cut you. or blog about you.

4-NEON TREES AND BOOTS
I love this band, Neon Trees, I like Neon Colours, I do not like random bitches acting like they are all fashionistas because they wear neon orange pants and a gold top. I am very passionate about fashion, i believe in expressions of ones self  BUT there is nothing as horrible as a trend that is atleast five DECADES out of time. and then, you post instagram pictures acting like you are model, self esteem is good honey, but no.

5-MCDONALD HOES
yeah, this is long, i have received a couple of messages over my blog posts, and tweets. someone said i glamourised eating disorders. and i hate fat people.
here is what i have to say to that

i will not justify my posts, but not once have i told anyone to starve. i just tell people to drop the donut and give me twenty. i believe I create awareness for something that is very rampant in our society, without naming names, and for those people who came forward with their stories, I am glad you felt like you were not alone.
I don't hate fat people, how can I? its not like am skinny, but i do have a problem with people who piss and moan about their weight and do nothing about it. I love personalities, weight is never an issue for me as far as the people in my life are concerned. Own your curves, love yourself, blah blah blah.
people make fun of skinny people all the time. Our society is all about 'thick women' 'thick curves' 'thick arteries' whats wrong about being all about 'skinny margaritas' 'skinny dipping' and soups over KFC????
 NO APOLOGIES.
If you love yourself, you wouldn't be in a tiff over my posts. maybe you should look deep deep deep deep (over the layers of extra fat padding) deep deep into yourself and ask yourself why you are bothered.

i think she is gorgeous.


6- TRANNIES, BLONDIES AND THE LIKES.

this bit is for all the wannabe chips funga hanging off the Lady.acting like you and my cupcake are bffs,

posting on her TL, calling her pet names and making innuendos....the person below is you

and this is her

yes, a tad bit jealous because there is a tranny with a killer bod all over her business, but only because her body doesn't match her face. i pray to the god every day that you wake up fat. no apologies.
cupcake can hold her own, and yes, we are not a public couple, we don't make eyes at each other online,  and yes, y'all know she's seeing someone, so sit down. don't try to make friends with me. I don't like you. simple as.

ME ME ITS ALL ABOUT ME

I'm obnoxious, I'm loud, I'm condescending, although I don't agree with that, I'm just smarter than you and you can't take it.
I know they say imitation is the best form of flattery, but omg, no. do not copy everything I do.
i have a couple of friends I adore, for who they are, they are gorgeous and funny, but please please please, this is not Mean Girls, I won't hate you for not wearing Pink on Wednesday or for only wearing sweats cause your size two's don't fit. i am mean enough to ask you though...

because it is unflattering that you dye your hair cause I do, or roll your eyes just how I do it, or steal my tweets, and posts, and OMG use my words..like soooo many of you just steal my quotes and it actually breaks my heart because i THOUGHT of them.
I accept adoration as the only form of flattery.

bye peasants

Taking that break

Darlings,
I have been having an almost unbearable time lately, i say almost cause well, am still here no?
But today i woke up so very angry at the world and it has been a while since i felt the urge to scream,not yell, just scream in someone's face.
I think its safe to say i am not fit for public and or online interactions. i am literally one stupid cunty word away from slapping someone's fucking mouth off.
I know this should be prime time for me to flood you with angsty posts but i haven't been too happy with my last posts and i am not quite sure i can write at the moment. i have several drafts already that are just not doing it for me.
Anyway, will not be posting on any of my blogs (here there and everything in between; confuzzled lawyer; and Invasion of art) for sometime, and i probably will not be online. twitter or facebook. half the fuckers i wanna kick in the vagina are there. and i understand its not their fault that they have troll blood in them if i were to judge by their looks and pea brains. am sorry. see. not fit for any interactions.

i hate that i am so angry at the moment, and if you ask me if its about that time of the month i will stab you in the eye with my pencil. its a spongebob pencil.
so i will be off. it might be till tomorrow, or for a few weeks.

The health store this sides finally stocked up on yoga mats. cannot wait to get a new one.

namaste little fuckers

Sonatas and The Final Curtain Call

Its a fairly easy life you lead. Everyone thinks that. You know that.
But there is always that darkness you love. Love? Perhaps. Sometimes you hate it. But the darkness is so farmiliar and welcoming, like a warm blanket on rainy days. Come home my child. It always seems to whisper. I will protect you.
But the blanket that never comes off even when you crave the sunlight. You don't even know how that feels anymore. Its so distant, the memory of it. Like the smell of your mother's embrace and the feeling of hot sticky icecream on your fingers after a church.
There are days you convince yourself that you don't need it anymore. That your couch is a way more trustworthy companion than the chatter and noise of 'friends'.
But today is one of those days, when you wake up and dig for that lace bra that is a size too small and a pair of shoes that make you feel like a high class hooker. And maybe you spend a few more minutes staring for cracks in your façade infront of your boudoir before you leave for the day. So maybe today is your big day. The day you have been saving that expensive lipstick for.
Oh you have been waiting for this day. You can hear the soft keys in your head. Beethoven opus 111. You just sway with it as you pat, brush dab. So perfect. So flawless.
Today is the day you play your final scene. The grand finale.
You wonder if people can see it when you walk into the office building. In the sway of your hip in time and tune to the melody in your head.
In the perfect smile you know won't crack today when that person you always pray will save you doesn't look at you.
And its like the whole world is out to see this masterpiece that is your day. The sky is a bit too excited with its blinding blues and dazzling rays of light, the smell...the smell in the air that reminds you of peonies and your mother's embrace, and the ice cream cart outside your office has just the chocolate ice cream you crave. Because today is that day. When you give it your all.
And the Sonata in your head reaches that point, you know, like when you listen to Led Zepplin, Stairway to Heaven, and its just minute after minute of crescendos and low intonations, emotions and spirit. When the song ends, you feel like you have lived your whole life in four minutes of melody. And you know today, when the final key rings in your head, you are homebound. You are free. Because this song, this masterpiece, according to your instructor, has been playing in your head, for longer than you might have been aware you think. But it has been stuck. Stuck on that note that will not end. No matter how many times you change it.
But today, it feels different. Oh you know it is.
You feel it in your bones when you wish your assistant a lovely weekend. Feel it in your blood when you choose that perfect bottle of wine as deep, as dark as the fluid in your veins. You can hear it in your very soul when you purchase those infinity candles from the old gentleman at the corner store. And you can taste it on your tongue when he smiles and gives you a good luck charm bracelet. Oh you know you don't need it. Not tonight.
This is the role you have been preparing yourself for, for years, since you sat between the warmth of your mama and pappa at the symphony. And heard, felt the crescendo. Beethoven. Sonata. Opus 111. And never has it been as loud as it is tonight.
You feel the tingle in your spine, the slight hitch in your breath as you open the door and walk in to your future.
Darkness. Darkness. Everywhere. But that is why you got candles.
After all, the play is only as good as the presentation.
And you lay it out. All of it.
A glass of wine for the star tonight.
Black sheath dress and the perfect hair.
Silk drapes over your trusted couch. Silver reflections bouncing off your instrument.
And you drink, and you dance to the music in your head, and you play with the instrument in your hand,
Feel the warmth of the candles, the fabric of your dress, the coolness of your tool on your skin, the taste of that perfect drink..and it goes on and on, off and on. On and on. On and on.
And you can feel the sweat beads on your shoulders, as that part comes.
When the notes are everything you feel in the world, and you let your instrument dance.
Over your collar bones, over your temples, down to your lips, and you taste the wine, the sweat and the blood, and its down, down, and there is more and more
Until the notes are too loud and the blood is too much
And with the whisper of the wind the candles go off.
Right when your instrument falls
And your legs give in.
You couldn't have gotten this scene any more better if you had practised.

Mirror Mirror

They present you with a plate of the sweetest pastries you may never come across again, sitting there, at the very end of a black marble counter, on a study armchair. everything is dark. you see no one, but the body less hands that brings different plates of different meals. it has been going on for hours now, the ropes digging into your skin bruise. you can feel them rub into your..bones.
and you smile, despite the burn of the sisal on your ribs, and the cold, the cold sipping into your feet from the stone floor..you realise you are naked, and the smile on your face melts, because oh the shame, of being laid so bare before all these...faceless, nameless people. and as if you called at it, the jeers, and the cackle starts, as another pair of porcelain hands bring forth a platter of the most disgusting, greasy, gravy slathered ribs. the aroma of it makes the acid in your stomach boil, your blood curl, and your mouth water.
the laughs and the taunts get louder, because they see, they smell how weak you are. so weak. so hungry.
but the knowledge of your hunger makes you stronger. to be so empty, so beautiful, so...pure.
the plate comes closer, and you bite your lip to keep them shut. this has happened before, your lips and hands betray you. they tarnish what you try so hard to make pure. they eat.
and the ropes are loose, and you watch, in horror as your right hand reaches for the juiciest bit of charred flesh. and it all goes black.
suddenly it is just a flurry of senses. no sight. the smell, the taste, the feeling of being filled. oh you could do this forever, your hand keeps moving and your mouth wont stay shut, and your jaw keeps chomping, chomping, such a pig. such an animal, its all good, it feels so good, you don't know why you didn't do this earlier. why? why? more. more.

and then it all stops. and the silence is deafening, except for that little voice in your head.
"look at you"
"such a failure"
"pathetic"
sigh. "you were almost pretty"
"LOOK AT YOU"
an ornate mirror appears before you, and you see yourself for what you have become.
tarnished.
the gravy all over your face.
the sauce on your hands.
the smell of food
Mirror Mirror on the wall, who....

you wake up, covered in sweat, the sun is setting, oh Lord no, not another night.
you reek of desperation and a broken soul.
you run your hands all over yourself,
bones, bones, flesh, fat, bones, fat, flesh, fat.

the phone rings
"get dressed, I'm picking you up in twenty minutes."
"are you mad?? i am barely decent"
"get dressed"

two hours later, a glass of vodka in your hand, neat, because you only partake in that which is pure, and the music is too loud, not louder than the voices in your head, but it will get louder still, it never takes much to get that buzz, because you try to stay pure.
"lets dance," she says, and taps your shoulder.
you turn and smile,
"sure.." she stares at you, her ayes trying to see every secret your face has to hide...but your make up is flawless tonight. a brush here, a stroke there, a pat here, a dab there..and you are the perfect puppet to the master in your head, the source of your self-destruction, pulling the strings, smashing all my dreams, creating new, better dreams
you smile wider..."dance...?"
..she narrows her eyes, you give her that smile that always work and roll your eyes..
"forgot how to dance?"
she smiles..."don't get too thin, "

oh what a lovely night this was going to be. a lovely night.



shout out to anyone who spots the Metallica reference

bleeding hearts

you see it in fairy tales, 

stories of flawless love and devotion

but they, they my darling have nothing on what i feel for you.

i love you, i love you so much it hurts to breath sometimes.

sometimes i wonder if you know the intensity of my emotions for you. 

do you feel it when i smile against your lips, 

oh your lips, i can write songs about them, 

the same lips that give me life, the same lips that take my very will to live away from me.

everything about you is a paradox.

its like being stuck in a blue box, through time, 

but standing still, 

when you smile at me, and its frozen in place.

do you know what you do to me, 

do you know, that when i look at you, i see everything, and nothing all at once,

i think you do, i think you feel the same way...

i know you do,

because you are not the only one who walked in on a pool of blood and had to make undying promises of love.

i love you when you are like that.

when you love me so much it hurts to open my eyes.

love me until i cry,

when you sit there, with my heart in your hands, and you stroke it, so gently, so...so you..

and then you hold it tighter, and then you squeeze some more, 

and you can see, you can see your nails dig into it. 

you can see those little wounds,

and you can see my tears...flowing, faster than the blood in your hands,

but i will never ask you to stop, 

you know this, and you wont stop

please don't stop.

because you love me.

and i love you, you know that...you hold it against me, that i feel this way about you, that i know i cannot live without you..

touch me here, kiss me there...break me a little more,

but its okay, because when its all said and done, your lips that kill me, save me.

when the lights are too bright and the shards too sharp, you stroke me tender, so soft..so you..yes, satin laces around my neck, 

yes, crimson tears on your skin

yes, sunlit corridors and the smell of peaches.

love me forever, 

ask you of this, because i know, 

i will love you beyond death.

eeeehh. i CANNOT WRITE ANGST.

happy freaking valentines motherfuckers

sparkly and tarnish

there are moments in my life, i specify my because i cannot purport to know what goes on in yours, but in my life, its basically a roller coaster ride...at first i used to ask, and wonder why it has to be so, and why almost everyone else has it seemingly smooth. i was in high school then, post high school i realised everyone has it shitty almost all the bloody time.

i am immensely blessed. i have a mother who would give an arm and a leg for me, the same arm and leg i would give mine to protect, so i figure, this little bubble my mummy and i have formed, is quite good to last me through the lifetime of crap that seems to be flung my way....by my own mind.

this roller coaster i mentioned, also happens to be in my head.

and here is the blessing...there are some rides i hear, that when you reach to the very top of it, before the damn thing drops, its all calmness, whistling winds and the type, except of course for your accelerated heart beat, and that is a moment of peace before the rush and the dread and the excitement. half my ride, it seems, is the fall. always the fall.. the climb to the top is so short, and sweet. imagine a lovely tea with chocolate eclairs kind of sweet...and then the sugar rush.....but before the sugar rush, there is that apex moment, of calmness...and dread, knowing its gonna fucking drop and you will be left whimpering in a corner.

you would think knowing this of yourself will make it easy...it does. here is why;

forever sorry for the over use of metaphors and the snotty fake English accent.

but we all know of hurricanes, and a vortex, yes...that...a whirlwind....we all know at the very center of it, is a calmness. while it rages, and rooftops are being blown off, people are getting blinded by the sand...you are safest at the center of it. i wish i could say in this likeness i am Storm, the goddess who controls the weathers, and in the midst of it all, she stands, hands raised, heart thumping, blood rushing...and she watches as the vortex swirls around her in destruction. but i fear i am not.

i wish i could also say i am jean, as she rises and becomes Phoenix...but we will see at the end of this if i am still standing...

but for now, in the center of this vortex, and at the top of the highest scariest roller coaster ride....i sit, have a cup of tea and treacle tart, bathed...immersed in silk and lace, perfect skin and freshly done nails... wine and heels that should cost what i am worth right now.
and i ride it out.

ta-ta sweethearts,
have an eclair..unless you are fat. you can eat a tampon like that girl on youtube.

rock papers scissors, screwed

its around three p.m where i am, on a Friday. am sitting at home, pretending to work on some school projects, but oh my God is it ever hard!!

i asked for an off day from the office to finish up some assignments and a dissertation that is giving me the side eye because we could get a bloody A on it, but i am not quite...into it...so much. -_-. boo hoo Lola, boo hoo.

i shouldnt even be taking this break, i have a conveyancing paper due in two hours..make that one and a half due to the time it will get me to get to school, also, a women in the legal process one that i cant be bothered with right now..  but i figured, oh you have your blogger dashboard on so maybe..why not...give it a poke...so here...poke poke poke...poke.....poke......someone stop me....poke.

oh i must tell you, i got to meet a favourite fan last week, and we had G&T at this lovely bar by the sea. it was full of open mouthed laughters and chain smoking on my part. i must say, looking forward to make good friends with you pappy.

on about the drink, the lady has turned me into a light weight i fear, i had a glass of wine, which by the way, i don't know why it did not come with a bucket of ice, got tepid a bit too fast. management, take care of this yes, and a double gin and tonic and i was scared to go pee...because grace, is not my strongest suits, sober...imagine when i am a teensy bit inebriated..i had a few silent chuckles with my reflection in the ladies and debated on returning a drunken call favor. thank heavens my heart pull out all the breaks on that one. not enough breaks that i got a card certified...okay, i did it, i do work in a law firm, and i thought....bbbbbhhh why not?

also, before i forget, remember when i had a rant about no battle of the bands...oh joy of joys, there is a gig coming up, and i will be there, flushed face and such, because well...rock and roll darlings.

i feel like this post feels pretentious, not a single cuss word in it, but oh the restraint, i used up all of mine cussing out the existence of this lovely little ratchet bitch (oh there it is) who decided to have an all out attack on bisexuals.and she dares call herself a writer, my lord, i could post the link for you, but i feel i have suffered enough for all of us. and i refuse to promote shameless tabloids. articulating your views and opinions is all well and good, but something has to be said about class. and while i am not the classiest of all, i know a skank when i see one...and i call skank. obviously, this still bothers me, so i will stop there.

blog review: a cute little darling friend of mine has a lovely blog on around here...go read it, it will earn you a chuckle or two, also, i think am cool enough to point out who else is cool (my Lord i just felt my head swell up a bit) . rantingredridinghood.blogspot.com is the place.

now, i know for sure i cannot wait for this day to end, hopefully with that land laws paper done, and then maybe i can convince the lady to make good use of my prezzie ;)

oh shuttup, its a wine pitcher, the sorts Il covo has.
ta darlings

cheers to the freaking weekend

A healing

Darling Lola,

i write this on a morning when my heart is heavy, for reasons i dare not think about. because they will crush me, so i am writing to you, to see if you are okay, where ever you will be, but i do hope it will be a Saturday morning like this, with a beautiful soul next to you, so tell me self,
how are you?have you survived? do you still want to live?
have you grown up?
how is your heart? is it still bruised? did you heal? did you figure out why you see dead people? why you dance with them?
i wish i could see you now, so you can tell me exactly how it is there. you know how much i hate surprises.
did we get that lovely bath tub we wanted? Victorian  claw foot tub, with a gold coated taps, you know which one, did we?

how many times have we tried to drown ourselves in it?
how many times have we soaked it with blood....red wine?
how many times have we cried in it?
pain? pleasure...ecstasy. oh my Lord the ecstasy in pain.

if you read this, it means you have not yet managed to fall off that cliff i keep toeing. do you hate me for it? do you hate me for what i have done to us? do you wish you could slap me, or spit in my face, for being so weak and so fragile...because if you have made it this far, it means you are a strong little cookie darling,
you haven't crumbled yet....i pity, and envy you at the same time.
did it finally get better? the voices in your head? do they like you now Lola?
do you think you are beautiful now? did you find the skeletons i am looking for? tell me they are beautiful...

i wonder....did you run away? like i say i will? or did i grow to be even more spineless and pitiful? did we convince ourself to stay? and take it? take it everyday? that we were growing stronger?

have you realised yet it does not get better?

have you found out what makes you so sad all the fucking time?

i am getting angry at you, for not taking that leap when you could.

so you survived
but i realised i shouldn't.

tell me, did we get married? are we so hopelessly in love? so magnificently, irrevocably in love? the kind of love we read about in a Judith Mcnaught book when we were sixteen and still believed?  i want to meet this person, who has made you forget that humans cannot be trusted, this person who has managed to do this to you...this person you haven't driven away on the brink of insanity, this person who has not been chocked, poisoned by what the meaning and depth of your emotions is. how long have you been married for? is she beautiful? i bet she is...is he dashing? i bet he wears chinos more than he wears jeans. i bet he makes a good ramen like that boy from that time you were happy.

does your breathing still stop everytime she smiles at you? did you convince her on that trip to actually marry you? how did that go? did she say more than just "okay" like you did in that bed with girl with the most beautiful laugh and the most enchanting eyes.
do you have that cosy little loft on top of the hill with a view?
do you have a balcony? oh how magnificent our nights must be, a tub, a balcony, a lover, and a glass of wine.

its only five years down the road, do you work so hard? do you love what you are doing? you better, i will hate it if we survived five years and you still work with Steve. i hope you quit at the end of this year. did you come into some money? do you still take reading classes with the children in the area? do you still write? have you published that book about that girl and that boy and the other boy on a tree?

i wonder what you look like, what you like to do now,
i hope you got better, and that you are not so sad almost all the time,
i pray there are no cliffs to dance on, and no corpses to smile at.
mostly, i pray you are healed.

love,
Broken Lola

guitar riffs and blue panties

i woke up in a not-so-good-mood. check previous post.

Girl, got me some albums because i no listen to music since my comp crashed and i don't have time between work and class to download shit to my phone....also, not that many great a choice on mo-phone sites for good music.

she doesn't listen to metal.guuuh. IKR!! but i got her to like Chop Suey and Toxicity a bit. she will NOT listen to Black Dahlia Murder...or she thinks she wont...muhahahaha.
so now playing...Trivium- Master of Puppets. do you know what this song reminds me...BoTB. MY LAWWD what happened to this amazing event that had me travel 8hours in the cheapest bus to nairobi for a night of debauchery?? like seriously????!

for those of who..(so uncool btw, like fuck you) do not know how awesome Battle of The Bands was....this was why.

MUSIC.
i can't say i have good taste in music, in fact, i have the worst taste in music, why lie...after this playlist, ill probably play a K-pop playlist....or taraab cause am coastal and shit.
but now, lets talk about heavy (or what i think is heavy, we have an understanding with bechah that shit i listen to is not heavy. but meh.)
i stay in Mombasa...the rock gigs we have...or when it fikaz like 3a.m and a club is playing 'rock' its always Bon Jovi and that ka one last breath song and whats his face Nickelback.
BoTB was the one chance...ONE CHANCE motherfuckers, i had to listen to heavy stuff...really really really loud! you would be at the entrance at Choices right, and you hear some MCR...but funny shit is btw, i always heard Breaking Benjamin at the entrance, like i would get to Choices and a Breaking benjamin song...something like...u take the breath right out of me....would play, NOSTALGIA like whatnuw??! anyway, so you would listen to that...and then that corner to the basement, and you start having mini orgasms   at the different tones...and this is where i have to try soo hard not to frig myself to death before getting to the mosh pit.

but then i get the urge too when i'm on the street and Gojira comes on to my playlist and i want to mosh and wank at the same time...how weird....ly hot!
...then our bands!! OMG!!! i met one of my closest friends...holla ducky...when he was on stage performing Chop Suey...and it was fucking epic...we had just got in right, and this guy who had just friend requested me THAT morning, and had a massive bitching bash at rocktoberfest' because well, pussies, with goes on stage and i creamed...no, i did not forget the 'S' in that word. and Crystal Axis??! and Last Years Tragedy?? and OMG everything yeah??
basically, i used to go to it to get off on the music *schlick schlick* (thats fap fap for me cause i have a vag)

PEOPLE
if you bond at BotB with someone...that bond is unbreakable...lool...what beautiful amazing people, i refuse, vehemently to use brutal...but yeah..YOU GUYS FUCKING RULE. i had no friends in mombasa because, what's the point if i see guys at the end of the month, listen to good music, make out at some random fence, and smoke some kush?

all those random conversations that went like,
"some guy has weed"
"you know him?'
"nah, i know his friend."
"cool, lets join in"

awesome people share joints...mpaka with the askaris you guy.
this to you all..
the convos about irish men nipples and sex versus...well sex.

and OMG that time i was intro'd to mahia and i fan girled like
(**',) no really
"Mahia, this is Lola, she thinks you're cool"
me: (**)
Mahia: Hi! nice to meet you
me: (**)
Bechah: LOL say something!
Me: (**,) :D :D
Mahia:........
Bechah: LOOOOOOOLLL *facepalm*
Me: *waves*
Mahia...well...i um...gotta go perform...er..nice to meet you
me: *waves* (**,)

i am not joking!!

buut, there were those people who annoyed the hell out of me!! like some random ratchet bitches off of facebook who would be like...ooh you saw me and never said hi you a snob....bitch i dont know you, but clearly you do..so say hello!!!
and that random bitch who pulled an Avril and showed us her ugly knickers??

and who goes to a gig like that in sandals??


my eyes hurt, n i need cuddles, so am signing off.

but i miss BoTB, i miss leaving my Friday Class to get on a bus just for it every month.
I miss seeing Shii in his leather jacket and his english accent, Vick and his awesome tees...thanks for the discographies you guy, i miss you mucho mucho.
i miss Fagslut trying not to fall on his ass,
I miss Bechah trippy and giggly,
i miss those really hot emo sluts you can only look and not touch because....herpes.
someone do something about bringing it back?? not these random gigs that i find out how cool they were THE MORNING AFTER.

nhu...now playing...Machine Head- Wolves.

p.s, i should have been working on my dissertation. lool

ciao motherfuckers \M/

ramble ramble

its one of those mornings, maybe its my toothache, maybe its the weird dreams i have been having, but its time,

the one thing i am most scared of, is pain. i admit to be one of those people who will over think shit. i will analyse, and nit pick at a situation before i put in...anything. its boring, its cautious....its safe. you do not get hurt like that. if you look at a situation, and decide, there is three to four percent chance of me being hurt, i walk away, and that has served me best in the past.
pain.
the thought of it makes my blood run cold.
it scares me.
i am not proud of this, but again, i accept, i cannot deal with emotional turmoil, which is odd, because i live to write angst. but i cannot, for the life of me take it.
at some point in my life, i was in therapy (please do not run away, despite my madness, for i am not sane, i feel i want you to know me) and my therapist put forth that maybe i am a perfectionist, if i cannot have the best of something, i will not have it at all, which, i must say was total hogwash. proof of is my battered heart and body. but to some extent, i must agree with her, if i cannot do something to the very best of my effort, it will kill me, but to myself, my efforts are never enough, so either way, i never win. and what a life that must be, where you always lose, against your family, your friends...and yourself.

that calmness i talked about two posts pasts, has passed it seems, because all i want to do is give up. i am ever so tired. physically, mentally, spiritually...or perhaps its my tooth ache speaking.

but i am tired.

and it seems so is everyone in my life. everywhere i turn, someone is hurting somewhere. and it really sucks, and i wish i could help, heal, for that is what i am named.

i have digressed so much, i cannot even remember why i started this.

i should be in bed, with this amazing girl, but i can't.
its all about assessing the situation no?
so here i sit, and make the dumbest decision of my life,

cock over tits and reverse.

still cannot write angsty fics atm. so yeeaahhh here is a rant.

i have a problem with names. i think one of the many Holy Books says something about calling something a name and it shall be so. a pen is a pen because you name it so. if i call it a feniakal, then it fucking so yeah?

hi, my name is Lola( still trying that Moby Dick effect..no? oh come on). without the name Lola, i am a faceless stranger, i am part of the crowd, i can be who so ever i wish to be. but the minute i say i am Lola. i embody the name, that will be my identity.
Similarly, i have this problem with most feminists, and rainbow coloured people, black people, asians, etc.
with a name, an identity is formed. I get that human beings are creatures that crave identity. but have you ever stopped to think that with your identity, you create, subconsciously of course, certain restrictions to your own person?
and yes, i do understand, that if you do not identify yourself, someone else will. but do you need to identify yourself with how someone else sees you?

i am Lola. I am a woman.

and certainly i will be identified with what i call myself, enter feminists, and your never ending woes of discrimination. have you ever thought that by calling yourself a woman, you expect....anticipate even, this discrimination you think you see against your person and everyone else of your gender?
i am a feminist, but my problem lies with women who cry foul about sexual segregation, and they are the first to tell their little boys, " do not do those dishes, that is a woman's work." shame on you.

i know, and see, that us dark skinned, melanin filled people face discrimination  but have you thought that, the very idea of you being black, makes your spine curve and your head bow when you enter an establishment rumored to favour those with fancy coloured eyes? why not walk in with the pride and poise your mama must have surely instilled in you? the same way you would walk into Mama Amina's kiosk, full of confidence and laughter and gait..are you still with me?

now rainbow coloured people, yes, you.
before i knew that liking both girls and boys is weird, or you shouldn't like people of the same sex...note, feminists, and my brothers who crave to be sisters and sisters who have a curious case of penis envy, like yours truly, not gender...sex..which, was until when? last year? lol, i was sheltered. i would have no problem with walking down the street holding my best friends hands...because it was cool, it didn't mean anything, but when i realised we were called bisexuals, or gay, and many other names out there...i can't hold a girls hand in public, because, surely, they can tell i like her?, because i have been called bisexual, i will call myself bisexual, and i will expect people to treat me as a bisexual. because people call you a woman, you see yourself as a woman, and you will expect to be treated as a woman. because you are black....and so on and so forth

while identity is needed for solidarity, and a sense of community, how you identify yourself, will also affect how you think of yourself, and that is what i am advocating against. when you are sitting in a corner, moaning about being discriminated against because you like cock, or tits, or you are black, or a woman....ask yourself if by anticipating said discrimination, you did not contribute to how people perceive you.

hi, my name is Lola, i am a person, i like a person, and i will settle down with whoever i fall in love with.

hi, my name is Lola, i am a woman, i like a girl, i like boys too, i can settle down with a boy or a girl.

hi, my name is Lola, i am a woman, i want a cock.

ta-ta darlings.

Literature and calmness. bitches be tripping

there is this calmness within me that scares me. there are many sort of calmness, and tranquility, the one full of content, and joy, where you want to sit by the balcony and watch the sunset with a glass of merlot and cigarette. i crave that sort of calmness. my calm, is the dangerous kind...its the kind that warns me of stormy waters right ahead. it should come with a ahoy! ahoy! in manner of Moby Dick.

speaking of, i want the calmness that Ishmael talks about when he is at sea, the one that will make me write a book that starts with : my name is Ishmael.
and centuries later, it is the epitome of all that is modern art, a satire from a tale about the search of calmness.
in the story; i am talking about Moby Dick, if its not yet clear, and if you have not read this book, that's okay, sad, but okay. see...this calmness i mention, i cannot even be irked that you have not experienced a great piece of literature. isn't it dangerous? can you taste the knife i will probably hold to your throat when we next meet? i can. the taste of blade....is peaceful. as i was saying, in the book, Ishmael goes to sea when his emotions are twirly, not the randy kind of twirly, but yea, sorta. his going to sea is similar to most of you punching a wall, and breaking a bathroom mirror. he goes in search of calmness, but does not find it there...he meets of course, Moby Dick. now go read it. be cultured you heathen.

i said, for those who are on my facebook. that this year, i will take no bullshit. and hence the calmness.
i wish i could express the danger that is this calm. let me see,

its when i text my boss and instead of a straight forward yes or no reply, he calls and talks for two minutes about shit. its all good.

its when i walk into the office with a serrated knife and stab him repeatedly, with a serene smile on my face, while inside, i am on a beautiful ship having an iced coffee, after i steal the knife from the serial killer. so peaceful.

its when my brothers make my mom cry, and its good.

its when i slash them as they brush their teeth, with a soft laugh, while singing am so happy and lovely and gay softly.


but one thing i cannot be calm about is crap friendship. and this post is becoming longer than i intended it to be, talking about this calmness, that might make me a celebrity

a girl skins her boss with a serrated knife in Mombasa, and she says....its all good. namaste.
again, i digress
i said it, if you cannot be the best friend to me, kindly walk out, and if i cannot be the best friend you need, in kind, i shall walk out.
we have acquaintances, colleagues, friends and best friends.

when push comes to shove, my best friends will always win out...even over my family. because they become my family.

Moby Dick appears in form of a tiff that may not end well between two of the closest people to me. and the calmness in me might lead me and a serrated knife, onto the whale's back. and whilst singing a soft lullaby, put it to sleep.

ta-ta darlings