burning angel suicide girls

gosh, i am procrastinating like fuck right now.
who cares, sartre would probably enjoy this post!

so, given derelict's recent dismissal by the suicide girls and the subsequent discussion that i have surmised the following:

-pasty white girls with tattoos, piercings and real boobs are hot.

that's me! i'm pasty, tattooed, pierced and my boobs are VERY real.

ok, it wasn't only derelict's blog. i like that shit. those girls are HOT. so are those boys. anybody know of any hot tattooed naked boy sites?

so anyways, i think that after i fulfill my little goal (ie: to not be fat anymore) i am going to submit some pictures! not to the suicide girls though. i think that they fetishizes a certain few sub-cultures in a way that doesn't celebrate bodies in all their modified glory but marginalizes them as the Other to be gawked at...i think it's because of how mainstream they've become. anyone who says that suicide girls have remained 'indie' has never seen porn for punks. (that shit is...shitty. ha!)

i think i'll send my shit to burning angel. it all feels a little better. less about marketing and merchandise and more about awesomely hot naked girls. it also seems to celebrate rather than objectify girls who've made a choice to look a little different. less glossy and less hoodies for sale!

i LOVE my body! seriously, i love everything about it. i love my skin and my tattoos and my pierced nipples and all of it and all the soft parts. i'm really super comfortable with my sexuality and with discovering all the different kinds of pleasure available to this rad amount of skin. i've got like 5 feet and 7 inches of skin! awesome! i think my body, everyone's body, should be celebrated. all that being said, i have a realistic understanding of how other people view my body so i'm not quite ready to bare all yet. gimme a few months out of the sun and in the gym and then we'll go from there. even if i never submit anything to a real website or whatever i am going to get some pics done (when my sleeve is finished) just to celebrate, y'know.

naked girls with lots of tattoos ARE hot! ha ha!

man, i gotta get back to work. *barf*

michelle.

the tattoo saga pt. 13

lucky thirteen.

in my quest for new skin, new shimmering colourful skin i have posted 12 other times! amazing! i don't think i even whine about boys this much...do i?

some history:
the tattoo saga pt. 7
wherein i decide johnny's gonna be the one to do it and then get a little star in anticipation.

the tattoo saga pt. 1
wherein i decide to document the quest...

so here we are and that little history less was pretty...um...boring.

anyways, lucky 13 proved to be the most painful to date and the most exciting. last friday (february 17, 2006) marked the completion of a full half-sleeve. the lower part of my arm (save for the boxes and some touch-ups and some small parts here and there) is done! $900 and 12-ish hours later i'm half done!

check it:





















again, tattoo done by johnny at urge2 studios. pictures are mine (taken by rachel) so don't steal!
xo michelle.

p.s. i know they look sorta scabby...welcome to the healing process!

2:22am

red wine drunk.
looking for stolen kisses in back alleys. finding none.

wanna go for a cup of tea, sometime?

i love nights that turn into endless conversation. and i walk home along saskatchewan drive singing along (outloud) to songs i barely know the words to. cabbies don't stop unless you flag them down.

somehow i'm not tired. contentedness isn't exhaustion and tomorrow i will ache.

c'est la vie when austrialians are involved.

come visit me? please...

m.

2:46am

i'm awake.

and i'm sort of annoyed by the fact that i am awake and have no partner in insomnia. i wish i knew someone who didn't sleep the way i don't sleep. periods of insomnia. weeks here and there...that way we could call each other at 2:46am and meet for tea and the kind of chats that can only happen at 2:47am when you're both longing for a good night's rest but know it will never come.

i know 2:47am isn't all that late but it's tuesday and i have to work tomorrow morning and my arm hurts and i know that 2:48am whining is indicative of both 3:48am and 4:48am whining. i am sort of hoping that my blog will bore me to death (as i am sure it does you).

insomnia aside.

i'm feeling ballsy these days. something i thought would end with secret deliveries and angry emails has got me itching for direct confrontation. who the fuck am i to back down.

and i read something the other day. a link to a recent article in our very own vue weekly...
emma sasse had the following to say:

"If, as everyone from spiritual leaders to social activists tell me, nothing is real but connection and relationships, then fake worlds atomize us, render us less than animal in our base, self-interested calculations, and, above all, absolve us of being accountable to one another."
(read the whole piece here)

and i am accountable. i can't simply absolve myself from something that i got involved in. sure, all the circumstances were not made available to me (hell, none of them were) but here we are. i've made my cliched and proverbial bed and if i can fuck in it i'd sure as hell better be able to lie in it. on all counts.

and then there was this crush i had. i thought about saying to this crush, 'hey, you seem cool. we should have a drink sometime' but i've since changed my mind. or i think i've changed my mind. i can't be certain.

i do know that i have been doing the theatre thing again lately. partly out of obligation and a need to remind people that i exist before i have to start promoting the shit out of the three (THREE) shows i have coming up; and partly out of a real desire to immerse myself back into it. i have three shows coming up and as much as i wish they were plays aren't rock shows and i am not a promoter. i have to get my head back in the game so i don't fuck it up right before half-time...or something. sports metaphors were never my thing.

i'm rambling.

it's now 3:00am. sorry, 3:01am. mountain standard time. i am resisting the urge to get so stoned that i pass out. i never sleep well that way and wake up feeling worse the next morning.

my arm is looking fantastic. itchy and sort of tight sunburnt feeling but beautiful. it almost makes me feel beautiful.

oh, and i made one of those dolls. it made me mad because they didn't have options for curly hair, facial piercings or gunts. nor did they have the standard michelle fashion of jeans, hoodie, long-sleeve...if they had a fat doll and a bright eyes hoodie i'd have been set.

everyone knows what a gunt is, right?
ha ha.

i think i will end this magnificant case of the rambles with that thought...

night night!
morning morning!

xo michelle.

that sweet sweet ache.

as i push in the door there is little noise. the welcome feeling of bells. i sit. the warm leather couch makes me feel at home. warm.

waiting is killer. the seconds tick by. i want it now because i know what's going to happen. how it's going to feel. how i'm going to feel.

and then i hear that sweet sound in the distance. behind a wall. i smell the smell of clean and that sweet sweet sound. i ache for it. the anticipation is too much. it's been too long. december.

and then he emerges from the back. greets me and slips his hands into those purple sheathes. they'll protect us both from my blood and what's to follow.

i take off my black hoodie. there's green underneath. spring, perhaps? something new for sure.

i sit down. he touches me. that first touch. the anticipation rises and every nerve on my body is ready. excited: jumping at the impending intensity of his touch and the touch of the needle.

and then it begins. as simple as that. that first rush of pain is my favourite. the first trickle of blood and that first site of colour. my skin changes. it swells and stings and aches and bleeds with each pass and i swell and sting and ache and bleed knowing that under all this my new skin is growing. my skin that looks like no one else's skin.

he puts his full weight on my arm. focused. eyes darting across my skin as quickly as the needle. my hand brushes his ribs, thigh, chest, elbow. a series of intimate touches.

and then that moment arrives. i've been expecting it. that moment where the pain is so much that i let out a small wimper. where every muscle in my body contracts in response. then it passes. i know it's coming again so i don't release immediately. i let it out slowly and the cycle continues. pain and a slight release.

it's the end that i long for as much as that first sting. the moment when i can let go completely. the blood and ink are wiped clean and all that remains is my new skin. fresh and raised begging me to look to at it. to show it off. i look in the mirror and i smile. my body lets go. it sighs a happy sigh and the muscles relax. my heart slows and i take normal breathes. i sit for a moment. coming down. feeling myself fall into a deep relaxation and calm. the dull ache reminds me of what's happened over those past three hours. but i smile.

i get dressed. i put on my coat. and i take my new skin home. it feels like home. and i am happy here.

a-ha!

ha ha. i just had one of those moments where it clicked.

i think i'm gonna stick to my 'stay sober for a week' plan...

xo m.

things i don't get about porn.

so ok, there are a coupla things i don't understand about porn. literally two. there are a lot of things about pornography that don't appeal to me but that i understand them as being part of fetish. here are the things i don't get:

1) why do they leave their shoes on? and what's so attractive about a girl in 7 inch platform stilettos?
think about it this way, if your fucking someone wearing shoes and you don't dig the pain of a stiletto digging into your back then why? in certain positions my feet are everywhere, i couldn't imagine how annoyed i'd be if incumbered by shoes...and y'know what, those shoes are HEAVY!

2) performing oral sex on a strap-on.
intellectually i totally get it but i just can't get past that...i always fast forward through that part.

anyways, i'm blogging about porn because i'd rather keep my mind on things that are superficially baffling than things that are actually baffling to me.

oh, and winter is here...
and my car has frozen itself into a block of ice just in case i hadn't noticed that i was winter.

m.

fuck what you heard...

...people are rarely as they seem. i'm learning this on an almost daily fucking basis.

not the point.

over beers last night and emails today with a good friends it appears the general consensus on mood these days (with some happy exceptions) is that of confusion.

i'm blaming the weather. truthfully. i know it's the cliched right of all canadians to bitch about the weather but if we can't even count on the weather to be shitty how can we count on anything as tenuous as emotions or our feelings about something/someone?

so much has happened and so much changes with every step we take and with every day that passes. what we think we know doesn't exist more than 45 seconds later. the one thing that had always remained constant (albeit constantly shitty) was the weather.

the frozen prairie was our solace. we knew the days would be cold and the beer and our friends would warm us if we could bundle our hearts and blood up enough make it out of our houses. i go to leave my house and i don't even know what coat to wear...

this is melodramatic, i know. but i don't think it's without foundation. we are affected by the rotation of the earth and the sunshine and the clouds and the wind all of that...

i am having trouble with maintaining motivation and social skills. there are things being left unsaid left right and centre. there are misplaced tears and unused smiles. there are nights when i should have gone out but my television and drugs offered a closer and easier comfort.

i don't know where this is all going. i don't know what tomorrow holds for me. maybe drinks with friends and strangers and industrial electronica. maybe a skateboard post-rock auction. maybe a movie with old and new sisters. maybe all of it. maybe none of it.

but here's what i'm thinking, and maybe i'm wrong but i started this post in a weird head space and things are clearing up a bit...maybe we should learn to count on uncertainty. we long for certainty, for symmetry, for all of the things that make us feel balanced but maybe we should relish in uncertainty for just a moment. maybe we should take small joy in not knowing what coat to wear or who we'll see or who we'll love or who will fuck us over...

ready.

take a deep breath.

jump for joy right...

NOW!

did you do it? i did a little dance.

ok. i'm going to bed and back to being confused for the time being. maybe i'll take comfort in the certainty of confusion...

...or something.

xo michelle.

the levity of longing

i'm feeling good about this song, about it words and i want you to feel good about it too so read on:

some planes were made and rice was thrown.
a house was built.
a baby born.
how time can move both fast and slow amazes me.
so i raise my glass to symmetry,
to that second hand and its accuracy.
to the actual size of everything.
the desert is the sand.
you can't hold it in your hand.
it won't bow to your demands.

there's no difference you can make,
there's no difference you can make.

and if it seems like an accident,
a collage of senselessness,
you aren't looking hard enough.
i wasn't looking hard enoughat at it.

an argument for conciousness.
the instinct of the blind insect who makes love to the flower bed and dies in the first freeze.
i want to learn such simple things.
no politics.
no history.
until what i want and what i need can finally be the same.

i just got myself to blame.
leave everything up to fate.
when there are choices i could make.
choice i could make.

now my heart needs a polygraph.
always so eager to pack my bags when i really want to stay.
i really want to stay.
i want to stay.

the arc of time.
the stench of sex.
the innocence you can't protect.
each quarter note.
each marble step.
walk up and down.
that lonely treble clef.
each wanting the next one to arrive.

an argument for conciousness.
the instinct of the blind insect.
who never thinks not to accept its fate.
that's faith.
there is happiness in death.

you give to the next one down the line.
the levity of longing that distills each dream inside my head.
by morning water down forget.
on silver stars i wish and wish and wish.
from one to the next one.
from one to the next right down the line.

you get to the next one.
you get to the next one down the line.

that song is called 'i believe in symmetry' by bright eyes (lyrics conor oberst) from the 2005 release digital ash in a digital urn (saddle creek)

it's a song that's been on my mind. if i sat down with conor oberst and could only talk about one song it would be this one! there are part of it that speak to me as if written ABOUT me and parts that piss me off in their simplicity and complacent whining...

i dunno dear friends, it speaks. it yells. at me. and i dig that shit.

xo m.

i found a liquid cure...

i wish i was in vancouver.

the sun and the smell of the ocean and old feelings that come back every once in a while.

landlocked blues perhaps?

what is it that ben says? 'even landlocked lovers yearn for the sea like navy men'
well, i'm no lover but i miss the ocean and the sometimes i hate impassable mountains that make it seem so far off.

maybe i need to go there. a little trip. maybe the sea air would be better for me than a trip to that smoggy eastern city.

xo m.

porn! porn! porn!

so a couple of weeks ago leah and eli happened to be walking past my house when they noticed that one of my neighbours had a visible pornography collection.

i hadn't seen it and i was pretty much convinced that it didn't exist. i thought they got the wrong street or something...

BUT I SAW IT!

I SAW IT!

i was coming home this afternoon and i saw it!

and i also saw a treadmill. so here's what i figure: these boys work out staring at porn hoping HOPING if they use the treadmill and it makes them all hot, ripped and in excellent cardiac shape they'll get to fuck girls that look like that and show of their stamina!

or, if they work out then they get to jerk off?

tell me boys? why hang naked pictures of girls on your living room wall for all walking-past strangers to see?

either way, i got a good laugh so thanks leah and eli for giving me a laugh...or for pointing out a place where a laugh was...:D

m.