Friday, September 17, 2010

Wirework Art; Directions To The Orgy, Please; Neil Gaiman



It's not just the wire work, which is incredible (check out the detail in the last two pics), but her overall cleverness. There's more to this than just this guy -- click and see. *g*

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Decided last night to return to my favorite writing method, Write Drunk, Edit Sober, after reading about someone else doing it. I can't recall who, because I was already tipsy. This morning, I see I've got some strange drabbles. One was clearly inspired by Little Red Riding Hood, but then again, it may only be clear to me because I have been told I was expounding on my "favoritest fairy tale of them ALL" last night with wine glass in hand. Matador. That's all I can say.

We have tickets to the Renaissance Festival, and we're going tomorrow. While trying to find discount tickets online, I saw a number of reviews of the fest. It has never occurred to me in all the years we've gone that the festival is not perhaps as kid-friendly as organizers would like you to believe. Then again, we don't have kids, so perhaps I found the adult-oriented in-jokes during the shows and songs to be clever, and not offensive. And the language the people in character spew at each other as they stroll the grounds -- sure, it's a bit blue, I guess. And some of the women's costumes, well, yes, I'll agree that they sometimes seem a bit more "fetish" than "Renaissance," but hey, to each his own. Personal expression. The Italians are masters of leatherwork, so no doubt there were ladies of the court doffing their heavy gowns to show their amores some brilliant piece of tit-exposing bridlewear (hehe) each night.

However, the review I found most amusing said that this fest was more akin to a carnal affair than a carnival, saying that if one was "available and promiscuous, then go in costume, you'll be sure to get laid at least once." They remarked on the amazing amount of sexual activities going on in the parking lot.

Brian and I are appalled. How have we not seen even one little blowjob during our visits? Not even an exposed nipple! Bare bum pressed against a window? Come on, throw us a bone (literally).

We will be on the look-out tomorrow for the orgy. Clearly, they are hiding this from us. But we are dedicated. Also, we need to sharpen our skills. We'll be looking for Hidden Mickeys next month in Disney, so we'll practice by looking for discreet oral acts tomorrow.

Neil Gaiman blogs that he has been riding a bike twelve thousand miles a day and has since come up with his next big book. He calls it "prose project," but that's a book. I am simultaneously overjoyed and annoyingly jealous. Of Neil Gaiman. And then, in trying to buck myself up, I said, "Hey! If Neil Gaiman knew about you, he'd be jeal... he'd be... No. He wouldn't be jealous of you at all." And I was back to square one, with an added bonus of depression.

Blowjobs. Must look forward to possibility of blowjobs.

Off to polish and submit drabbleage. It's a chance, I know. But maybe I'm brilliant when I'm drunk and just don't know it. also tomorrow is my birthday tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow aaaaiiiieeeee so excited!!!!

5 comments:

  1. Neil Gaiman and blow jobs within one paragraph of each other....

    Sorry. My mind wandered.

    With all that bike riding, you know he must be buff. And energetic.

    Yes, I know about your birthday. In fact, you should be getting a package in the mail today or tomorrow. I'll have a little preview later, in my blog.

    Probably those reviewers are so uptight that they consider tongue-kissing a sexual activity. I prefer to think of it as just saying hello.

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  2. And now I can't wait to meet you in person someday. Not much of a hugger, but...

    Yayyyy! That's AWESOME! So excited! I love presents in the mail!

    Neil has distracting pictures of himself on his blog. Okay, so it's just basically him standing there, but that's all it really takes. The man is sex itself.

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  3. ”Write drunk, edit sober.” Love when I do that, feels very grown-up. So much better than: ”Write drunk, edit drunk, believe you´re the queen of all languages and post drunk.” I´m not supposed to do that.

    No one ever shows me anything porny either, it´s like people hate me. Then again, I don´t even dream sex dreams, and I mean, I bet I could come up with seriously kick ass sex dreams if my subconscious would only let me. So what does that make me? A masochist? Oh, okay, right. See your point.

    Jealousy – I haz it. All the time. And I often season it with some self-loathing. You know, just generally hate myself and think everything I do is crap. ”And I was back to square one, with an added bonus of depression.” Yes, like that. Let´s not beat ourselves up over it, though. On up-days we´re fab and guilt will do us no good. And oh, maybe it´s a brain structure thing; like, if you´re into writing you also lean towards self-doubt and depression and you can´t have one without the other and it´s not gonna kill you so just relax and let it pass =)

    Happy Birthday Bohn-Bohn! Check thy mail =)

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  4. http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com/2010/09/poetry-potluck-bedazzled.html


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