spyderfyngers: (the plague makes me flail with glee)


Comment with a little about yourself and all the horrendous things we have in common to be added.

WTF

Jun. 7th, 2011 03:06 pm
spyderfyngers: (David Bowie doesn't want your cookies)
I am totally in Albania right now.
spyderfyngers: (dante amore)


The skull of saint Valentine displayed in the Basilica of Santa Maria in Cosmedin, Rome.
spyderfyngers: (the plague makes me flail with glee)



The standard Zazzle blurb just makes it:

“That’s a really cute outfit!” That’s just what you’ll hear from the other Mommies when they see your tyke’s one-of-a-kind baby bodysuit, customized just for you.
spyderfyngers: (angel domina)

In the Library
by Charles Simic

for Octavio


There’s a book called
“A Dictionary of Angels.”
No one has opened it in fifty years,
I know, because when I did,
The covers creaked, the pages
Crumbled. There I discovered

The angels were once as plentiful
As species of flies.
The sky at dusk
Used to be thick with them.
You had to wave both arms
Just to keep them away.

Now the sun is shining
Through the tall windows.
The library is a quiet place.
Angels and gods huddled
In dark unopened books.
The great secret lies
On some shelf Miss Jones
Passes every day on her rounds.

She’s very tall, so she keeps
Her head tipped as if listening.
The books are whispering.
I hear nothing, but she does.
spyderfyngers: (skellies)
...or my friend here will leave wheel tracks all over your face.

BOOK SALE!

May. 11th, 2010 02:07 pm
spyderfyngers: (BURN them!)
I'm selling my books. Please don't judge me.

All of these are in good condition, and some are good as new. They'll all be going on ebay within the next few days, but I thought I'd just my f-list first dibs. Postage isn't included in the prices, but depending on size/weight, will be about £1 - £2.

First come, first served.


DRAMA )


POETRY )


CRITICAL )


FICTION )


NON-FICTION )
spyderfyngers: (ow my head)
You have writers, and then you have women writers.

An interesting article from Echidne Of The Snakes on attitudes towards female writers, followed by my ranting response: )

Bonus grossout material:

My University wants more female graduates with strong portfolios to be involved with the faculty as role-models. This can only be a good thing, in light of an incident during my first year when a male lecturer - one of the old guard, red-nosed in a tweed blazer - told the entire class that he liked to fantasise about the younger female students when he got bored. Oh, and he was tipsy at the time. Fabulous. We weren't academics - we were sexy laydees hanging cutely on his learned words, and oh-ho we thought we were being educated when in fact we were being eyefucked.

And he had the temerity to let us know.

Delightful.
spyderfyngers: (...tea?)
Today, I ate Japanese rice crackers, cherry raisins (orgasmic!), almonds, pecans, Brazil nuts, and a chilli seed mix - FOR FREE!

Go to graze.com and enter this code - NR2ZTN8 - and you'll get your own free box delivered to your door. Free free free.

(Also, even if you choose not to order a box, just going there and putting in the code gets me £1 off. So...y'know. If you love me...)
spyderfyngers: (no whores here sorry)
spyderfyngers: (...tea?)
I just came to the startling realisation that I've never written down the recipe for the cake of chocolately alcoholic death I make when I have visitors.

The Devil would eat this cake after giving faux-birth to a wooden doll in a Whitechapel molly house full of petticoated sphyilitic sailors.

'Tis, to my knowledge, the only dessert officially endorsed by a genuine tattooed gothic fag hag: "I like the subtle taste of cake around this rum" - [livejournal.com profile] sistermorticia

Without further ado... )

Serve with a glass of rum in a safe, secure environment free of pointy objects or bright lights.
spyderfyngers: (from hell)
Exciting, if faintly implausible, news! Using e-fit techniques, investigators have released an image of Jack The Ripper's face.

Here he is, the grisly beast:



Um.

Is it just me, or...



Yeah.

Chilling.
spyderfyngers: (torture makes the world go round)
I WON!

I. won. so. hard.

The judge had already come to his decision before proceedings even began. The contempt oozed from his oozy pores of mighty judgement as Mrs Radish squeaked and squealed impotently from the dock like a wrinkly, meth-addicted chinchilla.

He pwned them, to use that awful word. He pwned them right up the fundament with a rolled up copy of The Housing Act 2004.

I am now £700 better off. Mr Radish will probably be chained to a radiator in Israel by his wife and never seen again. Next week, G has his hearing, but the judge basically told them they're doomed in every possible direction. If they're sensible, they'll just write another cheque.

This, my friends, is karma in action.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to overindulge in gin and whores on the common.
spyderfyngers: (suicide club)
I've finally got round to scanning those Victorian photographs in.

None of them are dated, but quite a few in the box were 1880-ish.




+3 )
spyderfyngers: (*raspberry!*)
Why not.

spyderfyngers: (top hats rock)
...or does "Moxie" sounds like something obscene you'd find scrawled on the walls of male public toilets at the turn of the century? "Do you Moxie?", "Be my Moxie", "Charles loves to Moxie", etc.



It's probably because the Moxie boy looks like a 1920s twink.

Admittedly, I have no idea what Moxie is. Please, enlighten me - is it a bodily fluid? Is Moxie secreted from the mox glands of buck deer in spring, perhaps?

(I'm having such fun finishing this essay, can you tell?)
spyderfyngers: (victorians are sexy)
...but apparently it's a suspension device for the treatment of scoliosis in 1877.



Scoliosis runs in my family, but I dodged that particular bullet. Still, this looks like a more enjoyable treatment than the horrifyingly invasive metal-rods-inserted-into-the-spine job my aunt had to go through in the seventies.

More of the same gorgeous Victorian quackery over on [community profile] darkvictoria.
spyderfyngers: (gasp!)
Cool article on nipple piercing and tattoos in the Edwardian age. How fresh nipple rings and corsets co-existed, I'm not sure, but the ladies quoted seem to be quite serene about the experience:

"I partially undressed and seated myself on a couch by the side of Madame B, who passed her arm round my neck and held me steadily..."
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