When words fail me...

...I nick someone else's.

There are times when your need to express something is so great that it overwhelms you, thankfully there are those who don't crumble under the pressure:

Eye Of The Beholder

Metallica, '...And Justice for All' (1988)

Do you see what I see?
Truth is an offense
You silence for your confidence

Do you hear what I hear?
Doors are slamming shut
Limit your imagination
Keep you where they must

Do you feel what I feel?
Bittering distress
Who decides what you express?

Do you take what I take?
Endurance is the word
Moving back instead of forward
Seems to me absurd

Doesn't matter what you see
Or into it what you read
You can do it your own way
If it's done just how I say

Independence limited
Freedom of choice is made for you, my friend
Freedom of speech is words that they will bend
Freedom with their exception

Do you fear what I fear?
Living properly
Truths to you are lies to me

Do you choose what I choose?
More alternatives
Energy derives from both the plus and negative

Do you need what I need?
Boundaries overthrown
Look inside
To each his own

Do you trust what I trust?
Me, myself and I
Penetrate the smoke screen
I see through the selfish lie

Doesn't matter what you see
Or into it what you read
You can do it your own way
If it's done just how I say

Independence limited
Freedom of choice is made for you, my friend
Freedom of speech is words that they will bend
Freedom with their exception

Do you know what I know?
Your money and your wealth
You silence just to hear yourself

Do you want what I want?
Desire not a thing
I hunger after independence
Lengthen freedom's ring

Doesn't matter what you see
Or into it what you read
You can do it your own way
If it's done just how I say

Independence limited
Freedom of choice is made for you, my friend
Freedom of speech is words that they will bend
Freedom no longer frees you

Doesn't matter what you see
Or into it what you read
You can do it your own way
If it's done just how I say

An all-too-common dialogue concerning the modern day question of questions:

You on Facebook Lucy?

-No.

Really?? Why not, too ‘cool’ for it?

-No, I just don’t want one. It’s not that I am against social media, I just don’t want a Facebook account.

Why not?

-You really want to know why? Ok, fine: I will get every fucker I have ever encountered – either through shagging them, having a truly ‘meaningful’ heart to heart with whilst shit-wrecked at a house party 6 months ago or simply by proxy i.e. the girl I sat next to in English class 12 years ago – asking me to be their ‘friend’. I then have to decide whether I want to accept their friendliness - and be bombarded with pictures of them in fancy dress/cakes they’ve baked or ‘kids in bed, wine in hand!’ statuses - or ‘reject’ (how cruel) it where I will then be asked by them (and those who know both of us – mutual ‘friends’) why I don’t want to be their friend; to which I either wave the white flag and accept them or admit that if they set themselves on fire and offered to pay me lots of money to spit on them, I’d still have to ‘decline’.

Well why not set one up under a pseudonym and only tell your friends?

-There’s that word ‘friend’ again – on planet Facebook a friend is not a friend so if I got myself a Facebook how do I negotiate this ‘friend’ thing? On Facebook, what is a ‘friend’? Is it someone already in my life, someone I already communicate with physically? No, I’ll tell you what it is, it’s a commodity, something to accumulate, something to define who and what you are based on how much of it you have. Call me traditional but that aint friendship to me and I want nothing to do with it.

In terms of the pseudonym, this is something I have considered but then I think why do I want to join Facebook under a pseudonym so I can lurk around, unidentified, only speaking to those I actually like and, therefore, already communicate with in person (!), on the phone or via text or email? I have no actual friends outside a 30 mile radius of my house so if I want to reach out I can jump on the train/in my car and have a drink and lovely chat with them. So in answer to the pseudonym puzzler: I would be adopting a false name in order to protect myself from the evils of Facebook or I could save myself the turmoil and (drum roll please) NOT HAVE A FACEBOOK. Ta daaaa!

A Testament to Marketing!

I love how cupcakes have become as much a part of modern Western culture as breathing polluted air; clever clever cupcake peddlers!

I was innocently observing the twitter account of a Dominant/Submissive couple and came across their family photo album. Of course there were the expected snaps: pictures of 'Ms. Sub' choking down a massive dildo, arses covered in scars and bruises from some whiled away afternoon but wait...CUPCAKES? Trays of freshly baked mini-cakes with accompanying pride: ‘The red ones are mine, yay!’

The Cupcake: once a lowly children’s Birthday party treat has now transcended its stereotype and is spreading its cakey/buttercreamy joy to all! To Sarah-Jessica Parker and those that made her eat one in front of a camera: brrravo!

Uh oh!

I did find a piece I'd written where I describe myself as an office worker/housewife but we'll ignore that one...

Written September 2010 (same shit different year)

I just inserted one of those memory stick things into my laptop and found some work from Sept 2010, not bad actually I thought I only found my brain/creativity post-September 2010...here it is:

Hello, yes yes I am still here/somewhere.

My apologies for not feeding you with a delicious post for a couple of weeks but I have an excuse…I started University. I’ve decided to take this writing lark seriously. It will benefit you all in the long run when I am spewing posts of a higher calibre.

My latest points of interest in the world of blogging have been geared to the thrill of the chase in both food and sex/relationships. I’m pondering the question: you can have your cake, but do you actually want to eat it?

Example, when ordering dessert in a restaurant, a considerable amount of the pleasure comes from selecting the most appealing, mouth-watering offering and then eagerly awaiting its arrival only to be sick of it/disappointed a few mouthfuls in…you could argue that I may just need to go to better restaurants or you could consider the idea that the acquisition of said confection runs parallel to the thrill of chasing tail/skirt…whatever you wanna call it.

You see a guy/gal at a bar, you’ve scanned the place and s/he is the most appealing, mouth-watering offering. You then spend time establishing a connection be it across the room or, if like me you prefer the more direct approach, talking to them about the establishment you both find yourselves in, your likes, dislikes all the while hoping they will offer themselves to you.

You’re convinced this is your soul-mate…same favourite colour? Indeed! Second cousin grew up in the same town as your friend’s dad? You betcha! This person HAS to be yours…you’ve placed your order, you await the delivery – will they/wont they? Oh they will, ok bored now! Move on…you could argue that I need to go to better bars or you could consider the idea that sex and food have a deeper connection than whipped cream and chocolate sauce!

So how do you not tire of a plate of food/piece of ass after a few bites? How about a mezze? Several offerings of deliciousness all at once ensuring a range of flavours, textures and sensations are on offer. Monogamists look away now, this diet isn’t for everyone.