Okay.... this might be the best headline I have read in a long time...

"Police: Man Stabs Mom, Assaults Another Woman With Chicken"

I guess he must have been in the middle of eating dinner when he flipped out.

:P

Numinous closing

After three years of doing business in SL, I have decided to close up Numinous for good. I don't have much time to devote to creating new items or running a shop anymore. On Sunday, June 29, I will be disbanding the group, so please do not take offense at being ejected. Thank you for your patronage.

Should I even fucking bother?

Arthole now has a blog!

Arahan and I have decided to start up a collaborative blog specifically for Arthole.

It's still coming together, but here it is!

Arthole

Pics from the Tribute to Arahan Party

As promised -- pictures!

(click above pic for the whole set)

"Want a sim to play with?"

Holy crap...

Okay, so here's how it happened.

I decided to give away part of my Garden of NPIRL Delights build, "...Excess of Joy Weeps" at Arthole as a freebie. Since Bettina Tizzy of NPIRL was the one who urged me to be a part of the Garden in the first place, I gave her one as well. She IMed me after she got it and offered to teleport me to her garden to see it there.

We made some small talk and then, somewhat out of the blue:

Bettina Tizzy: hey... want a sim to play with?

To say that I am astounded is an understatement.

I said yes, of course. I only get it for 2 months, but that's plenty of time for me to have fun with it.

More details soon!

O_O

Today, and various things

Let me get all this down before I forget it. :P


Tomorrow is my youngest brother's high school graduation party. I bought him a DVD ('No Country For Old Men') and a copy of The Catcher in the Rye, which had a big impact on me when I was about his age. I know, I know -- how cliché. Haha. Anyway, I wrote a little something in the front of it for him -- I didn't think about it, just wrote:

Dear ___,
When I was about your age I had to read this for school, my senior year. Back then I really didn't care about my classes, but when we were assigned to read this I really got into it. I never did the reading assignments at home and read this in class when everybody else was talking about the day's lesson. I don't think anyone in the class liked this book but me. I hope you like it too. --- Love, ____.

Somehow I am not feeling nostalgic or sad about this, despite how I usually am. This is a good thing, though! Christ, I am sick of being moody.



One thing I AM sad about, however, is the fact that Arahan, my friend , fellow artist, and cumpatriot (yes, spelled that wrong on purpose) has decided to leave Flickr - he deleted his entire account today. I can barely express how shocked and sad I was to find this out... Our mutual friend, Kham, has posted a wonderful tribute to him:

(image courtesy of Khamudy Mannonen)

I was supposed to DJ a set for the Garden of NPIRL Delights today, and instead hung out with friends in Arahan's locker at Arthole and dedicated my music set to him. I recorded it, but it needs editing, and when that's done I will post a link to the file in this blog. I took a ton of pictures too, & you'll see those here as well.

And speaking of The Garden, I am rather pissed off with their selective promotion of the music events. I have seen notices sent out about other music acts and DJs, but none have been done for me at all. I wouldn't have had any audience at all for my set on Monday if friends of mine hadn't pulled together to hang out with me. Ah well, whatever. The Garden of NPIRL Delights as an exhibition was rather underwhelming for me. Can't win 'em all, I guess. I might just blow off my set tomorrow, although I haven't yet decided.

Oh yeah, by the way, the last day for the Garden is on the 23rd, if anyone cares. Haha. Meh.. there were some decent builds, and a lot of people seemed to have fun with it, but... I was disappointed with the experience overall. I'm grateful to have been a part of it, it just didn't grab me. Oh well.

WTF weatherman!?!

"I'm sorry, Dad" installation

After I had written this post, I wasn't feeling much better so I worked on an installation to go along with it and put it up at Brooklyn Is Watching. You can read Amy Wilson's (a.k.a. Amy Freelunch) comments about it here and here. I'll update this post with pics soon.

You know, it really really fucking sucks when other people's drama interferes with your friendship with someone else.

It's not fucking FAIR. I didn't fucking do anything yet I have to lose out because of it.

I hate drama and petty fucking arguments. So I am removing myself from the situation.

I have better things to do than listen to bullshit about so-and-so hating so-and-so. I don't care who started it. I don't care who continued it. I don't care who's to blame because frankly in a situation like this, all parties are to blame. Fuck taking sides. Fuck fighting. It's fucking ridiculous.

I'm done. I hate human beings. Life's too short for this fucking bullshit. I'd rather be alone than hang out with a group of people who are constantly drowning in drama. Grow the fuck up. For fuck's sake!

I'm sorry, Dad.

Father's Day and all that shit, yadda yadda.

Today (or rather, yesterday, technically) I went to go see my dad, something I rarely do.

I always feel a bit of dread whenever I have to pay a visit to anyone from that side of the family, because I'm not close to them at all. Whenever I spend time with my father or grandmother, it always feels a somewhat awkward. I often don't know what to say and I sometimes struggle to make conversation. I am my father's only child, so I don't have any siblings to go with me to visit him. And, he lives alone, now that my grandmother is in a nursing home.

So anyway. I was dropped off at his house today, and when I arrived I felt guilty immediately because I showed up later than I said I would. He'd had a few beers and was a little tipsy and that made me a bit nervous, but we started chatting about whatever and I tried to just keep the mood lighthearted. But staying cheerful is difficult, because whenever I see him, or even simply talk to him on the phone, all I sense in him is this tired, sad, beaten man. Today was no exception.



I try not to think about it too much, and the way I deal with it is by avoiding contact with him.

I don't hate or dislike him, of course, I just don't know how to deal with it. We aren't open and communicative with each other; not the way I am with my mother's side of the family. So I don't really feel comfortable talking about feelings with him.




During my visit today, we chatted about general things as we walked around the backyard. He showed me some of the gardening he's done lately, etc, etc... Just sort of small talk, really; the kind of conversation you could have with someone you'd just met or didn't know well. It was a bit boring, but nothing unbearable.

At some point in our conversation, he asked me if I was still without a car, which I confirmed, and I said that since I was getting rides to work and didn't go much of anywhere else anyway, I wasn't in any rush to get a new one; I'd take my time and save up.

To my total surprise, he offered to give me his old white car, an '88 LeBaron, which has been sitting in his driveway for years. I didn't think it even ran anymore, but he takes care of his cars pretty well, and he said with a new battery, it should be in decent shape. It'll be good enough for me to get to work and back, and to run errands, and all that, anyway. I accepted, of course. It's very similar to my first car, an '85 LeBaron (which I loved), and it will be a bit surreal for me to own it; I have memories of riding around with him in that car when I was still just a kid.

The rest of my visit with him was about the same as all the other times I've spent with him in the past few years; we bitched about work, talked about our cats, talked about my grandmother, and that's about it. Around 7:30, my roommate came to pick me up; I had asked her to bring the cake I had made from cake class because I wanted to show him and give him a piece of it. He had a piece of cake and the three of us shot the shit for a little while longer and then my roommate & I left.

It had been a pretty decent time, but I was relieved to get out of there.



In the past few years I have come to realize that the isolation I feel from other people, the tendency to be reclusive, the hopelessness, the deep and sometimes inexplicable sadness, the bitterness, the sense of feeling broken... all that, I inherited from my father. And every time I visit him, it becomes more and more apparent. And it makes me really, really sad to see it in him because I am helpless to really do anything about it. For him, or for me.


It was 2 in the morning and I went downstairs to make myself a bagel and I thought about how my father offered me the car and suddenly everything just hit me and I started crying and have continued to off and on since then, and it's 3:40 now.




When I was little and my parents were divorced, I was so young (just a baby, really) that it didn't have any emotional impact on me. I saw my father regularly, at least once a week; and my mom and dad were civil to each other so I don't have any bad memories of it. My dad was fun and funny, and I had great times with him as a kid, but I never really connected with him on a deeper level the way I did with my mom or brothers or even my stepdad. My father just isn't that kind of person. It's not his fault, of course; it's just the way he was raised.

As I got older, and busy with my own life, I saw him less and less. Most of the time I was, and am, too preoccupied to think about it much, but there are times I acutely miss being that little kid from so many years ago, and I miss the younger, cheerier man he was then. Maybe we weren't emotionally close, but my time spent with him was happy. Now, it's just usually depressing and I have to suppress the feeling of muffled yet overwhelming hopelessness whenever I see him.

I don't want to watch him age and become more and more bitter and sad and used up and alone. Not only because he is my father and I care about him, but also because I don't want to become like he has, either (although I am already more than partway up that path).




If I were feeling this way about my mother, I could call her up or visit her and talk to her about it and cry with her and it would be okay. The sadness would subside and I'd get over it.

But I can't do that with my father. He and I both sit alone behind closed doors on opposite sides of a chasm that is infinite. I know we love each other, but we will never, ever share a deep connection in this life and there's nothing I can do to change that. I can never return to the days of being that carefree child in the passenger seat of his car and that's just the way it is.



And I usually don't think too much about that, but tonight it has consumed me with guilt and grief.

Pick Up Your Fucking Trash!

It all started innocently enough -- I paid a visit to Brooklyn Is Watching, which I hadn't done in awhile. I read the site on a regular basis and there were a few pieces I wanted to check out.

Some of the first things I noticed when I arrived were prim litter -- an empty box from some clothing shop or other, and a freebie go-cart. As I wandered, I found more random crap -- a couple of obligatory plywood cubes. None of these objects were meant to be left here as art. It's all just stuff people were too lazy and or inconsiderate to dispose of.

[And if any of these people in question wants to be a contrary fucking jerk about it and argue that they MEANT to leave it there as their art, well, I've got news for you, buddy -- your art fucking SUCKS.]

So anyway -- I saw all this shit laying around and created this to comment on it:

(You'll probably have to be signed into Flickr to see it, as I've set this pic to "Moderate."
As in "moderate"ly offensive? Because it has the F-word in it, oooooh!)

The arrows say this in the description field:

I have pet peeves. Prim litter is one of them. So unless you are new to SL as of today, pick up your fucking shit.

Put your fucking TRASH into the fucking RECEPTACLE.

Of course, the trash can is symbolic. Pick up your prim litter, delete it, whatever. Just don't leave it hanging around on land that isn't yours, you inconsiderate twat.


Brooklyn Is Watching is a place where anyone can build, thus it's inevitable that rubbish like this will appear, but it still pisses me off, no matter where it happens. It's the carelessness of people that annoys me, really, more than the objects themselves.

I've really been in a fucking mood lately. And part of it is a result of me holding back a lot of shit that I've wanted to say, not just pertaining to SL, but to a lot of things in my life. This is an issue that goes back years and years.

I am already a pretty outspoken person, but when it comes to things that annoy me or make me angry, I try to keep my opinions to myself unless I'm really pushed to the limit, because I don't want to be rude. Well, I'm sick of fucking keeping my mouth shut. I'm sick of biting my tongue. I need to man the fuck up and start saying more of what I think. Not to be a dick or anything, but why the hell should I keep it bottled up?

To all who expressed concern...

I am not quite alright, but I will be.




And no, nothing in particular happened, not really (nothing I should have gotten this upset over, anyway).

It's just the way I get sometimes. It's life, it's the world in general, that gets to me, and when it hits, it hits hard.

And there's nothing that anybody can really say or do to ease that burden for me. Nothing and no-one is a comfort.

It's often frustratingly difficult for me to even know what to do -- reach out in a futile attempt for solace (and I get more frustrated if I don't find the calm I seek), or isolate myself further, so that I don't poison the ones I care about with all this inner rage, pain, grief... I'm no good to anyone in that state.


But it passes; it always does. It just needs to work itself out of my system, like a fever.

Anyway. This is a thank you, to any of my friends or associates who have showed genuine concern; you know who you are. And I do apologize if I acted like a dick to anyone.

Cake class, Course Two, finished at last!

Yeah, I may not have mentioned it in this blog before, but I have been taking Wilton cake decorating classes.

Course One was back in September, and I have just completed Course Two.

(appy polly loggies for the low-res camera-phone picture)

With a bit of reluctance, I have decided to take Course Three as well. My roommate really has her heart set on it, and, well, I need to get out of the damn house once in awhile, anyway. :P

The classes themselves have been pretty fun, but it's a LOT of work at home, too (hence my reluctance).

For this course alone we must have gone through literally about 15 pounds of icing/powdered sugar to make various icings. Jeeeeesus christ, Royal Icing is a pain in the ass to work with. It's hard to get the consistency right, and if you're not careful it'll dry out on you and turn into basically cement. It makes some awesome flowers, but it's tricky.

The most fun part of this class was doing the basket weave technique on the final project. Fortunately, that used buttercream icing which is much more forgiving than the royal variety.

Attributes

avoidant, cautious, depressed, dislikes large parties, dislikes leadership, does not fit in, does not want to fit in, does not make friends easily, emotionally sensitive, feels invisible, feels undesirable, focuses on people's hidden motives, intellectual, introverted, irritable, likes silence, nihilistic, not a thrill seeker, observer, paranoid, phobic, reclusive, reveals little about self, secretive, solitude loving, suspicious, values solitude, weird, worrying

Not good at human relationships.

I'm sorry.

I've tried.

"Come Back"

Come Back

Come back often and take hold of me,
sensation that I love, come back and take hold of me --
when the body's memory revives
and an old longing again passes through the blood,
when lips and skin remember
and hands feel as though they touch again.

Come back often, take hold of me in the night
when lips and skin remember...

Constantine P. Cavafy

Gah....

Christ, what a boring night.




x_x

Holy jeebus! I haz comments?

I just noticed tonight (duhhh) that a few of my posts have gotten responses, and I had no idea the comments were even there!

I'm used to Livejournal/etc., which will send an email every time someone posts a comment...

I am not sure if Blogger has that option, but I ought to look into it so that I don't neglect my readers. :P!

So anyway, if you've commented on any of my posts, thanks for reading & for your feedback, and stuff. I don't mean to neglect ya!

Recent blog coverage

You know, I am extremely grateful to my friends and acquaintances for blogging about my work, because I am a slacker and procrastinator and I am terrible at self-promotion.

Here are some of the more recent articles:

Nebulosus Severine and the not-so-perfect.
Posted by Amy Freelunch on Brooklyn Is Watching - June 1st, 2008

Nebulosus Severine at the NPIRL Garden of Delights
Posted by Raul Crimson on A Crimson World - May 30th, 2008

Strolling around the Kunstvlaai Festival 2008
Posted by Ganymedes Costagravas on Gany’s take on (any) Life - May 25, 2008

Kiss the Sky: Tipping Point on the Axis of a Virtual World
Posted by Bettina Tizzy and Bjorlyn Loon on Not Possible IRL - May 23, 2008

Kiss the Sky - a survey of Hyperformalism
Posted by Nazz Lane on Lane's List - May 16, 2008

SLArt (r) Feature: Kiss the Sky
Posted by ArtWorld Market on SLART (r) Magazine - May 2008

Teen meme

Idea nabbed from Linden Tea on Flickr --