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#134 - billie holiday rocks my world
2001-08-17 @ 12:35 a.m.

i'm not going to talk about last night. let's just say that i've still got some stuff to do around diaryland, so i plan on sticking it out for now. happy happy, joy joy. now if only i didn't have a fucking headache...


do you ever think you might have lived a past life? i've been fascinated with the idea since i was a young girl. my little brother swore he had seen things he had never seen. me, nothing. i'm afraid i don't have any evidence that i've lived before.

except music. when i took my African Dance class, it reminded me of my Hawaiian heritage, and how Hawaiian music just does things to my body. makes me move in a way i didn't know i was capable. African Dance inspired this in my body as well. so does swing music and jazz. i never thought i liked jazz. but a few years ago, I bought a christmas cd that had a couple of jazzy xmas tunes on it. they were my favorites on the cd. and every once in awhile, i hear something like that that i like. crooning music. i saw the hbo movie about Dorothy Dandridge and i fell in love. i went out and bought the cd. it's my "don't be angry at anyone" cd. i turn it on full blast & just dance around the apartment. and dance and dance.

i don't know. maybe i just like music. maybe i just like to dance. but i swear. old music does things to my body that i have no idea how it knows to do that...


celebrity is a strange thing. millions of people you don't know, watching your every move. wanting to know every little detail. like poor prince william and his smut mags. oh, the horror of having your choice of smut be the fodder of tabloids. ick.

the flipside is celebrity death. i think everyone at least once in their life feels a pull at their heartstrings when they find out a certain celebrity has died. that's natural, since you're bound to have someone famous you look up to, identify with.

i'll admit, for me, it's pretty easy for me to identify with a celebrity just because i know something about them. so it's the local celebrities that get to me when they die. when kurt cobain died, it was wretched. i had wondered about him fucking in my friend's bedroom years past, y'know? even if i wasn't such a big fan of nirvana, kurt was obviously a tortured soul, and i knew something about that.

but other than kurt, there was this person on the news when i was a teenager. i think he did the weather, but now i don't remember. he retired with a little fanfare. then no one heard about him for a few months. until he was murdered. it seems he had been having an affair. and the jealous husband killed him & his lover. it sounded so tragic at the time. he had retired to build a little love nest with this woman, and then been murdered for it.

then there was the Safeway lady. yep, no one knew her name. but everyone knew her face. she did the Safeway grocery store commercials. a face & voice you can trust, right? like a mom. or an aunt. and then one day she was killed in a traffic accident. and christ, did the news have to tell me she was decapitated in the accident?? of course, Safeway pulled all her commercials right away. but still, the image was there, burned into my mind. aunt Safeway lady, decapitated on I-5.

so why the hell do i bring this up? here's another example in the way my mind works: i want to write an entry about Chocolat, but i'm waiting until i have a little more time one my hands. Chocolat's setting & accents reminded me of this darling little movie I saw at SIFF a few seasons ago, called For Roseanna. a charming film, set in Italy, with great acting, a kwirky story. and it was the last film ever done by Mark Frankel. Mark was a sexy, sexy man with 2 different colored eyes. first saw him in the tv show Sisters so many years ago now. but you couldn't find anyone more perfect to play a vampire. and so they did. he was the lead in "Kindred: The Embraced", the tv show based on the Vampire rollplaying game. he was a damn fine vampire. sexy. ooooo. and then one evening, taking a solo jaunt on his motorcycle, he was killed in an accident. i believe he was the only person involved in the accident. he left a wife & child behind. his wife was pregnant. how tragic.

that's how these things usually strike me. tragic. it was hard when Audrey Hepburn died. she was so beautiful & graceful. but she had lived a life. Princess Diana & Mark Frankel & Curk Kobain & Safeway lady & newsman guy all had long lives in front of them. lives that were snuffed out. and now we will never be graced with the things they gave us ever again. how sad.


hehe. i just remembered some of my dreams last night. one of them was pretty damn sexual. me & my sweetie showed up at some guys house, and he was getting ready to have a romp with this itsy-bitsy dominatrix. she showed up dressed only in black lingerie, carrying a whip. i remember thinking, "holy shit, she walked down the street like that?! it's broad daylight out!"

this dream somehow became another dream, where me & hubby were at his parent's house, and he was trying to do something to surprise one of his friends. i don't remember if it was a good or bad surprise. but i suggested that he lure the friend upstairs, and i'll be naked & have sex with him, then he won't be expecting your surprise when you spring it on him. [um, yah, like finding me naked & ready to fuck wouldn't be a surprise...]

this part went on for awhile, with us somehow failing to get him upstairs & into the room i was in or something. and then some other friends showed up, and the room i was in had glass louvers(?) and his other male friend was suddenly just staring at me, and i was left trying to pretend that it was completely normal for me to be in the bathroom completely naked without curtains drawn to the outside world. then i started flirting with him. then he made his way to the room i was in. i thought the best way to get him to fuck me would be to kneel my naked self on the floor, on all floors, my ass & wet cunt aimed at the doorway he would enter. *sigh* he never showed. damn.

and then sometime later, we were all outside, and this kite that had been tied to the side of the house was loose and about to fly away. so i grabbed the string at the last moment. but then i started going up with the kite. so i called out to my sweetie, & he helped me with it. he held the end while i wrapped the string around my feet & stepped on it to keep it in place. then he went back into the house to look for something. and his dad showed up to help me. his idea of helping me was to nail the kite string to my feet, at my ankles. eek. he tapped in the first nail a little, then got ready to really hammer it, when i screamed for him to stop. i think that's when i woke up. is this some sort of stigmata dream or something? more catholic guilt, rearing it's ugly head maybe? hmmmmm...

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