OWEN is a 70-year-old reclusive white man. NEDA is a 14-year-old street wise black girl. What brings them together is a mutual love for Owen’s tea pot collection. We join the play at the point where they are having tea together for the first time.
OWEN: Watch it. This is hot.
NEDA: What is it?
OWEN: Tea. My own blend. It’s hot.
NEDA: Where’s the tea bag?
OWEN: This is real tea. Peasant.
(SHE takes a sip of tea, burns her tongue, yelps in pain.)
Did I mention it was hot?
NEDA: I burd by toug, (I burned my tongue.)
OWEN: I did. I’m almost positive.
NEDA: What’s this black stuff in the bottom of the cup?
OWEN: Tea leaves.
NEDA: And they’re supposed to be there?
OWEN: Later I’ll read your fortune, if you’d like.
NEDA: What’s that smell?
OWEN: My own blend. A full bodied aroma, don’t you think?
NEDA: Smells like warm cat pee.
OWEN: It’s an acquired taste.
NEDA: Gotta be.
OWEN: Would the reigning debutante care for a small repast?
NEDA: You’re talkin’ about me again, right?
OWEN: I am.
NEDA: An’ you asked me if I wanted somethin’ t’ eat. Didn’t ya?
OWEN: I did. Yes
NEDA: You sure do know a bunch of big and useless words.
OWEN: Maybe you’re not ready for this.
NEDA: T’ eat?
OWEN: To make it an occasion.
NEDA: I eat every day. I do. I’m not liein’.
OWEN: Do you have your gloves?
NEDA: Mittens. I’ll run home an’ get ‘um.
OWEN: In your lap.
NEDA: What?
OWEN: Your gloves. Pretend. They’re in your lap.
NEDA: I’m eatin’ lunch with mittens on. In th’ middle of summer.
OWEN: Gloves. You are. And it’s not lunch. You’re breaking your fast.
NEDA: Uh-huh.
OWEN: Elbows off the table.
NEDA: Uh-huh.
OWEN: Frances, my dear, would you care for a small repast?
NEDA: Yes, please. See? I can do it.
OWEN: Ah, let’s see …
(OWEN reaches for an imaginary plate of finger food.)
Oh yes, we have a choice; crumpets, scones, or tea sandwiches.
NEDA: Oh, how will I ever choose? I don’t think my little mind is able to make such a big decision. You pick.
OWEN: Nice try.
NEDA: I’ll take the sandwich … please.
OWEN: As you wish.
NEDA: I don’t know what that other stuff is.
OWEN: Now the gloves.
NEDA: You really eat with gloves on.
OWEN: I don’t. You do.
NEDA: Why?
OWEN: If you’d rather not …
NEDA: Puttin’ on the gloves.
(SHE pulls the “gloves” on, all the way to her elbows.)
There.
(OWEN frowns.)
What?
OWEN: They’re tea gloves. They go to the wrists only. You put on opera gloves.
NEDA: Sorry.
(NEDA rolls the “gloves” back down to her wrists.)
Better?
OWEN: Very proper.
NEDA: Now what?
OWEN: Now you eat.
(NEDA stuffs a “sandwich” in her mouth.)
NEDA: Yum.
(NEDA notices that OWEN is staring at her.)
What? What I do?
OWEN: Not like that. Not … Look.
(OWEN takes a “sandwich” and nibbles around one edge.)
You watching?
(HE then takes a “napkin,” daintily dabs his mouth, places the napkin in his lap, and folds his hand over it. )
What do you think?
NEDA: You don’t wanna know.
OWEN: Yes I do.
NEDA: I’m gonna starve t’ death. That’s what I think.
OWEN: It was good enough for my grandmother.
NEDA: Lemme talk to her.
OWEN: She’s been dead for years.
(NEDA stares at him with a “I’ve proven my point” look in her eyes.)
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Excerpt from the play THE REVENANT
FRANCESCA is facing the Inquisition. At the moment SHE is in her cell, silently mouthing what appears to be a prayer. Actually, it’s the spell to summon the demon ASMODEUS. Dressed as a monk, ASMODEUS obligingly steps out of the darkness.
ASMODEUS: You have called. I have come.
FRANCESCA: … from whatever part of the world, come presently, come affably, manifest that which I desire. I command thee by Whom all creatures …
ASMODEUS: Command? You command? Command the dung at your feet, then, and the worms that live upon it. There is your kingdom now.
FRANCESCA: I command thee, O demon Asmodeus; in the name of the ten guardians of the Sepherat: Keser, Chochma …
ASMODEUS: Persist as you will. Although for what further purpose I cannot imagine. You have requested my presence. I am here.
FRANCESCA: Angels are requested. Those of the lower regions are commanded.
ASMODEUS: Ah. The pupil now instructs the teacher. Have I been thus enjoined to play word games?
FRANCESCA: You have taught me well. To properly name a devil gives power over him. I name you the demon Asmodeus, tempter of men, destroyer of marriages, Prince of whores.
ASMODEUS: If I be that illustrious Prince, then you must be my most eager and loyal subject. Although I must confess a disappointment. Loyalty is only effective if it’s tempered with a degree of – shall we say – imagination.
FRANCESCA: Sweet Asmodeus, do not admonish me for that which I have pledged; to serve and obey.
ASMODEUS: This is why you have so rudely called me hither? Consider your task accomplished, then. You serve me better than you know.
FRANCESCA: How may that be, when I am so confined. For your love I have dared everything. Is my usefulness so easily dismissed? Was I not a witness to murder, and a receptacle for your indulgence beside that still warm body? Do I not stand mute before my judges, endure bludgeoning without crying aloud? Is there to be no surcease? Tell me the purpose I serve, and I will be comforted.
ASMODEUS: You serve MY purpose! That should be enough. As for your comfort, pleasure and pain are two faces on the same coin. In one there is always a reflection of the other. Do not despair. Revel and rejoice! Take your comfort from the sensations of the flesh, for that is all I ever promised you.
FRANCESCA: You promised the material things of this world. Wealth, power, domination over others. My name respected and feared.
ASMODEUS: I have given unstintingly all you’ve asked for, and more. Do not be so foolish as to think such gluttony as yours lasts forever.
FRANCESCA: I was to be given these things for my lifetime!
ASMODEUS: So you have them. For your lifetime.
FRANCESCA: I know you are without compassion or pity, but is there not some bargain I may yet devise for my release and those things I hold dear?
ASMODEUS: You waste my time.
FRANCESCA: Wait! For my freedom, then. All that I have for my freedom alone.
ASMODEUS: You intrigue me after all. With what would you bargain? What is still yours to give?
FRANCESCA: Why, I … I …
ASMODEUS: I thought as much.
FRANCESCA: Myself! I can still give myself!
ASMODEUS: A husk fit only for swine? When you were twelve you were of value to me. Why should I bargain for used goods when new are mine for the taking?
FRANCESCA: My soul, then. My everlasting soul.
ASMODEUS: That is not yours to give! The soul is a feather, buffeted by the wind, an inconsequential speck caught up in the conflict between the Gods of the Upper and Lower regions … usually to land on the shore of least resistance. Do not speak to me of your soul. Give me something I may hold in the palm of my hand.
FRANCESCA: It was desire for all I could not have which led me willingly – nay, eagerly – into iniquity’s hot embrace. I tell you, devil, you cannot understand the hunger in here, that no table scrap, however generously given, may satisfy.
ASMODEUS: All these years of instruction and still you have a dullard’s lack of perception. I not only understand that delicious hunger, I engender it.
FRANCESCA: Then know you that the path I trod is not a lonely one. The pitfall which lured me beyond its rim may be used over and again, if it is effectively baited.
ASMODEUS: The creatures I hunt are small. There is no need to slaughter a calf to tempt a mouse. No, your arguments are logical, as well they should be. I taught you the technique. But they fail to convince. I nurture desire for something. I care nothing for the thing itself.
FRANCESCA: There must be something! Some THING! Else, why are you here? Am I truly adept enough to cause your appearance by my will alone? If so, I am in a better position to bargain than I thought. Or … have you come merely to gloat over my wretchedness? No. I have neither risen so high nor fallen so low as to be worthy of more than passing derision. So there must be something, if I have wit enough to grasp it. Something obvious, perhaps so natural to my sight that is invisible. A task incomplete, or one yet to be performed. Yes! Speak, devil! Whatever it is, I shall do it. But there will be a price.
ASMODEUS: Feckless woman, why do you so entreat me? I have long ago given you the keys to your cell – cunning and guile. Do not be too clever for both our purposes.
FRANCESCA: I perceive you are of a single mind in this regard, and I shall comply with your demands. But I still wonder which has the greater worth, the deed or the perpetrator.
ASMODEUS: I had thought you a valuable tool, molded of hardened metal and tempered in fire. But if that tool bends easily or breaks with use, then it is of inferior material and quickly discarded.
FRANCESCA: If a tool receives proper care and handling, it may be useful for many years, and considered a prize possession. But if it is ill used, to be thrown away too soon, it is not the fault of the tool, but of the craftsman. Do you hear me, devil?! Have a care you do not discard your tools in haste!
ASMODEUS: You have called. I have come.
FRANCESCA: … from whatever part of the world, come presently, come affably, manifest that which I desire. I command thee by Whom all creatures …
ASMODEUS: Command? You command? Command the dung at your feet, then, and the worms that live upon it. There is your kingdom now.
FRANCESCA: I command thee, O demon Asmodeus; in the name of the ten guardians of the Sepherat: Keser, Chochma …
ASMODEUS: Persist as you will. Although for what further purpose I cannot imagine. You have requested my presence. I am here.
FRANCESCA: Angels are requested. Those of the lower regions are commanded.
ASMODEUS: Ah. The pupil now instructs the teacher. Have I been thus enjoined to play word games?
FRANCESCA: You have taught me well. To properly name a devil gives power over him. I name you the demon Asmodeus, tempter of men, destroyer of marriages, Prince of whores.
ASMODEUS: If I be that illustrious Prince, then you must be my most eager and loyal subject. Although I must confess a disappointment. Loyalty is only effective if it’s tempered with a degree of – shall we say – imagination.
FRANCESCA: Sweet Asmodeus, do not admonish me for that which I have pledged; to serve and obey.
ASMODEUS: This is why you have so rudely called me hither? Consider your task accomplished, then. You serve me better than you know.
FRANCESCA: How may that be, when I am so confined. For your love I have dared everything. Is my usefulness so easily dismissed? Was I not a witness to murder, and a receptacle for your indulgence beside that still warm body? Do I not stand mute before my judges, endure bludgeoning without crying aloud? Is there to be no surcease? Tell me the purpose I serve, and I will be comforted.
ASMODEUS: You serve MY purpose! That should be enough. As for your comfort, pleasure and pain are two faces on the same coin. In one there is always a reflection of the other. Do not despair. Revel and rejoice! Take your comfort from the sensations of the flesh, for that is all I ever promised you.
FRANCESCA: You promised the material things of this world. Wealth, power, domination over others. My name respected and feared.
ASMODEUS: I have given unstintingly all you’ve asked for, and more. Do not be so foolish as to think such gluttony as yours lasts forever.
FRANCESCA: I was to be given these things for my lifetime!
ASMODEUS: So you have them. For your lifetime.
FRANCESCA: I know you are without compassion or pity, but is there not some bargain I may yet devise for my release and those things I hold dear?
ASMODEUS: You waste my time.
FRANCESCA: Wait! For my freedom, then. All that I have for my freedom alone.
ASMODEUS: You intrigue me after all. With what would you bargain? What is still yours to give?
FRANCESCA: Why, I … I …
ASMODEUS: I thought as much.
FRANCESCA: Myself! I can still give myself!
ASMODEUS: A husk fit only for swine? When you were twelve you were of value to me. Why should I bargain for used goods when new are mine for the taking?
FRANCESCA: My soul, then. My everlasting soul.
ASMODEUS: That is not yours to give! The soul is a feather, buffeted by the wind, an inconsequential speck caught up in the conflict between the Gods of the Upper and Lower regions … usually to land on the shore of least resistance. Do not speak to me of your soul. Give me something I may hold in the palm of my hand.
FRANCESCA: It was desire for all I could not have which led me willingly – nay, eagerly – into iniquity’s hot embrace. I tell you, devil, you cannot understand the hunger in here, that no table scrap, however generously given, may satisfy.
ASMODEUS: All these years of instruction and still you have a dullard’s lack of perception. I not only understand that delicious hunger, I engender it.
FRANCESCA: Then know you that the path I trod is not a lonely one. The pitfall which lured me beyond its rim may be used over and again, if it is effectively baited.
ASMODEUS: The creatures I hunt are small. There is no need to slaughter a calf to tempt a mouse. No, your arguments are logical, as well they should be. I taught you the technique. But they fail to convince. I nurture desire for something. I care nothing for the thing itself.
FRANCESCA: There must be something! Some THING! Else, why are you here? Am I truly adept enough to cause your appearance by my will alone? If so, I am in a better position to bargain than I thought. Or … have you come merely to gloat over my wretchedness? No. I have neither risen so high nor fallen so low as to be worthy of more than passing derision. So there must be something, if I have wit enough to grasp it. Something obvious, perhaps so natural to my sight that is invisible. A task incomplete, or one yet to be performed. Yes! Speak, devil! Whatever it is, I shall do it. But there will be a price.
ASMODEUS: Feckless woman, why do you so entreat me? I have long ago given you the keys to your cell – cunning and guile. Do not be too clever for both our purposes.
FRANCESCA: I perceive you are of a single mind in this regard, and I shall comply with your demands. But I still wonder which has the greater worth, the deed or the perpetrator.
ASMODEUS: I had thought you a valuable tool, molded of hardened metal and tempered in fire. But if that tool bends easily or breaks with use, then it is of inferior material and quickly discarded.
FRANCESCA: If a tool receives proper care and handling, it may be useful for many years, and considered a prize possession. But if it is ill used, to be thrown away too soon, it is not the fault of the tool, but of the craftsman. Do you hear me, devil?! Have a care you do not discard your tools in haste!
just one more time.
So Thursday was actually the last day for the seniors at my school. But unfortunately I was gone half the day because my AP Chemistry went to an elementary school to teach science. We were gone for 2nd and 3rd period and we came back in the middle/beginning of 4th period (last period of the day) and most of didn't want to go to class so we just hung in the back, where all the science teachers had their offices. We had to stay super quiet. Well we just hung around until the AP Calculus class had finished their last test, then we went to visit them across the hall. Most of my senior friends were in there. We just were signing yearbooks, exchanging last minute senior ball pictures and taking crazy pictures. I took their class picture for them. Three guys picked Mr. Yee (who is super short, shorter than me!) on the last couple pictures. It was really cute and sad at the same time. I hugged everyone a million times. I was "sad" but I did not cry. I knew in my heart it wasn't the LAST time quite yet.
Me and Eunsong.
Eunsong is GOING BACK TO KOREA for her senior year. :(
One of my favorite seniors, CORINNE!!!
There is no one like her, haha.
Me and Eunsong.
Eunsong is GOING BACK TO KOREA for her senior year. :(
One of my favorite seniors, CORINNE!!!
There is no one like her, haha.
So after school, the bell rang and the seniors were going crazy. I guess some seniors had cans of WHIPPED CREAM so they were whip creaming everyone and throw their backpacks in the air. It was really cute. And again...SAD. Again I gave a million hugs, signed more yearbooks. But there is still graduation and my party I am throwing for the ONE LAST TIME (that is the theme). After school, went home and ate then went to work. I worked from 4:30-10. Around 8ish Matt came with some of the seniors (the super smart ones that i dont know so well). Around 9ish, it was pretty quiet. Then I saw Debbie walk through the door with a couple friends. She was like "we came to see you". Then I saw more people coming; Mindy, Corinne, Kelly, etc. Then EVERYONE just swelled the place. All the crazy asian/filipino seniors that I knew came to hang at red berry and just swelled the place. I was really happy. They got frozen yogurt and we all were just hanging around. It was super fun. Though I hope my boss was not annoyed that I was hanging with my friends instead of "working" though I did not have much work to do. It was pretty crazy. Then most of the people left around 9:50 and I had to clean. But some people were still left and they hung outside and they helped me put in all the tables. I wish they would be there everyday to help me put the tables inside.
I am really sad how blurry this is,
because it is such a cute picture with most of my senior friends.
Why do I look so lame with my uniform on!
But there is still graduation. Then my party. Then it will be the last time. The last time. I don't want to even think about. I kind of want to cry once so I can feel less guilty about not crying. :) But I am sure they want to see smiling more than crying.
But as I was watching everything unfold and laughing with my senior friends, I felt sad because I could see in them, US. MY FRIENDS. the ones that are juniors now. I am sad we aren't as crazy as the seniors, but next year we have an EXCUSE TO BE just as crazy and immature. But I see them scrambling to do everything and do it with everyone and it just reminds me how close I am to doing the same thing. And I know this summer is the last summer because I have a feeling next summer, a lot of us are going to be gone, out of the country, or too busy to hang after senior year. SO THIS SUMMER MUST BE THE BEST!
I am really sad how blurry this is,
because it is such a cute picture with most of my senior friends.
Why do I look so lame with my uniform on!
But there is still graduation. Then my party. Then it will be the last time. The last time. I don't want to even think about. I kind of want to cry once so I can feel less guilty about not crying. :) But I am sure they want to see smiling more than crying.
But as I was watching everything unfold and laughing with my senior friends, I felt sad because I could see in them, US. MY FRIENDS. the ones that are juniors now. I am sad we aren't as crazy as the seniors, but next year we have an EXCUSE TO BE just as crazy and immature. But I see them scrambling to do everything and do it with everyone and it just reminds me how close I am to doing the same thing. And I know this summer is the last summer because I have a feeling next summer, a lot of us are going to be gone, out of the country, or too busy to hang after senior year. SO THIS SUMMER MUST BE THE BEST!
IT MUST!
dude, i just heard this song from perezhilton.
everyone has gone techno.
rihanna - "disturbia"
dude, i just heard this song from perezhilton.
everyone has gone techno.
rihanna - "disturbia"
---christina
Friday, May 30, 2008
je ne suis pas mademoiselle stresseé
because kristina is mademoiselle stresseé!
it's funny that we still have homework!!! well, actually it's not, but it just feels weird. today were the seniors last day at school, and i feel a little sad although i did not know too many of them that well. but its so odd. everything is winding down, and yet i just don't how to feel. to be honest, i just feel blah everyday.
i think i'm gonna have a very bad grade in pre-calculus this semester... and i'm not ashamed to tell everyone about it! because really, i deserve that grade, whatever it is that i'm going to get, and i'm going to welcome it (even if it is an F. OMFG, yes i know. the worst grade i've ever gotten in my life--the worst grade anyone can ever possibly get in their lives. but anyways,) i've realized that math is simply a weakness of mines, and i'm not afraid to just admit it to the world. yes, i am lazy and did not really try to improve my math skills at all. well actually i did, but i know i didn't try hard enough, because if i did i could've. and yet, for some reason i'm still not ashamed! i'm not ashamed... because i know i have other great aspects to me that other people don't have. and i know i've done great things this semester that i'm sure a lot of other people can't do as well as i can do, or simply can't even do at all.
for example: ------------------------
MY JUNIOR PROJECT! oh my god. that is the biggest accomplishment i've made this year, and i'm so freaking proud of myself. it didnt really seem that hard anymore by the end of it all... but the process was so tedious. and i've gotta say, i think i did a pretty damn good job. actually i've always done a good job in cosgrove's literature class (besides that one time i slacked on my data sheet for my junior project and got a C in his class-- which was lame because that assignment was the only thing in our grade). Like at the beginning of the year, when we had our "All the Pretty Horses" essay; i got an A on it!! and few people got the 94% i did :)
I also improved in AP PHYSICS!!! I'm confident i'm going to get a B in that class this semester. and i'm also confident that i did a good job presenting my science project this past wednesday! not to mention i'm thinking i did alright on that ap test... although i'm not going to say i'm confident i passed it :| so maybe i didn't do alright, but that's alright!
I ALSO SCORED OKAY ON MY SATs! yeah, basically. it's obviously not the best score ever, but i scored in the average area for UC DAVIS' incoming freshmens :D (as the statistics on collegboard states). so i guess i did pretty good for taking it for the first time.
------------------------
okay. so basically my point is: i'm only going to concentrate on the positive aspects of my life. i think it's great if you are a well-rounded person, and are good at everything. but i think it's even greater if you're able to focus yourself in on the things that you are really good at and you do enjoy doing. that way you won't only be good in those areas, but you can be super amazing in them. and that way you can stay committed to them and be passionate about them, so you will be able to make a great contribution to this wonderful, wonderful world!!
well anyways,
here's a little update on my life!
our yearbooks this year.
i found these cool mountain dew bottles in fresno last weekend.
garu died. and came back alive with a new type of flower. the other ten flowers dried away because i neglected to water them :| i still dont know what kind of plant he is.
my siblings are so odd, but they've been rooming with me everynight. since i'm a scaredy-cat! my grandpa scares me with his scary stories...
my little baby cousin is so cute. he loved the chickens. unfortunately we ate them. yes, we're beasts and asian. it's only a fact.
more fantabulous photos from fresno this weekend, of my cousins. i developed them in photography, for my photography sequence. (this is not the whole sequence)
- mademoiselle PACHIA
Excerpt from the play CORIE
BEN abandoned CORIE twenty years ago. Now he has returned, telling her that he never stopped loving her. At the point where we pick up the dialogue, we are well into the second Act, and BEN has just informed CORIE that he is dieing of leukemia.
CORIE: Window’s still hot. Been dark for hours, but th’ window’s still warm t’ th’ touch. An awning would be nice, don’t ya think? Some cool shade from th’ heat o’ th’ sun. Wouldn’t that be nice?
BEN: Would you sit down for a minute?
CORIE: Had an awning once. Cheap flimsy thing, all canvas an’ wood. Norm tol’ me th’ first big wind an’ it’d be gone. It was.
BEN: I’m worried about you.
CORIE: I know what I want – saw a pitcher o’ it in th’ Sears catalogue. Aluminum an’ steel. Pretty, too. White with a green edge. I could order it – be here in a couple weeks. Wouldn’t take long for us t’ put it up. An’ then we could … we could … somethin’ …
BEN: Please don’t do this.
CORIE: What? I’m not doin’ nothin’.
BEN: You’ve had enough pain in your life. I don’t want to cause you any more.
CORIE: Ya don’t cause me pain. You’re m’ pleasure an’ m’ joy. Don’t ya know that?
BEN: I have leukemia.
CORIE: An’ you’re getting’ better. That’s what them pills are for. Ya haven’t coughed hardly, all day.
BEN: Some days are better than others, that’s all.
CORIE: Don’t wanna talk ‘bout it no more.
BEN: We have to.
CORIE: Monday – no, wait – Tuesday, we’ll drive up t’ th’ clinic in Elkhorn.
BEN: That won’t help.
CORIE: Lincoln, then. They got hospitals there, good as anywhere.
BEN: You’re not listening. I’m not going to get any better.
CORIE: Stop sayin’ that.
BEN: It’s true.
CORIE: Ya don’t know that – not for certain. Not for positive certain.
(BEN starts to object.)
No. Lemme finish. I know what you’re thinkin’ – I don’t know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, jus’ clutchin’ at straws. Well, maybe I am, but so what? I’ll clutch at ‘em all day, if I’ve a mind t’. Beats layin’ down an’ diein’, don’t it? I buried m’ maw an’ paw, m’ son, an’ m’ best frien’. An I’ll tell ya somethin’, I purely didn’t like it much. Held Edie’s han’ for twenty-six hours straight, ‘till it wasn’t Edie no more, jus’ a dead thing liein’ there. But I never gave up – hopin’, prayin’ – never did. So if ya think I’m gonna give up easy on you, you’re wrong! I won’t! An’ if I won’t, why are you?
BEN: You think that’s what I’ve done?
CORIE: Ya made me a promise once.
BEN: What was that?
CORIE: Don’t ya remember? When we was first together, an’ everythin’ was such a wonder – we stayed up ‘till three, four in th’ mornin’, every night?
BEN: We made a lot of promises.
CORIE: One. One special one. Ya promised when we got old, you’d try t’ live long enough so I could die before ya? Ya remember? I didn’t wanna be old an’ alone without ya. Scared me. Shouldn’t I only pretend that happened?
BEN: Don’t be cynical.
CORIE: I’m not – don’t have ‘nough experience for it – ‘cept what I learned from you.
CORIE: Window’s still hot. Been dark for hours, but th’ window’s still warm t’ th’ touch. An awning would be nice, don’t ya think? Some cool shade from th’ heat o’ th’ sun. Wouldn’t that be nice?
BEN: Would you sit down for a minute?
CORIE: Had an awning once. Cheap flimsy thing, all canvas an’ wood. Norm tol’ me th’ first big wind an’ it’d be gone. It was.
BEN: I’m worried about you.
CORIE: I know what I want – saw a pitcher o’ it in th’ Sears catalogue. Aluminum an’ steel. Pretty, too. White with a green edge. I could order it – be here in a couple weeks. Wouldn’t take long for us t’ put it up. An’ then we could … we could … somethin’ …
BEN: Please don’t do this.
CORIE: What? I’m not doin’ nothin’.
BEN: You’ve had enough pain in your life. I don’t want to cause you any more.
CORIE: Ya don’t cause me pain. You’re m’ pleasure an’ m’ joy. Don’t ya know that?
BEN: I have leukemia.
CORIE: An’ you’re getting’ better. That’s what them pills are for. Ya haven’t coughed hardly, all day.
BEN: Some days are better than others, that’s all.
CORIE: Don’t wanna talk ‘bout it no more.
BEN: We have to.
CORIE: Monday – no, wait – Tuesday, we’ll drive up t’ th’ clinic in Elkhorn.
BEN: That won’t help.
CORIE: Lincoln, then. They got hospitals there, good as anywhere.
BEN: You’re not listening. I’m not going to get any better.
CORIE: Stop sayin’ that.
BEN: It’s true.
CORIE: Ya don’t know that – not for certain. Not for positive certain.
(BEN starts to object.)
No. Lemme finish. I know what you’re thinkin’ – I don’t know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, jus’ clutchin’ at straws. Well, maybe I am, but so what? I’ll clutch at ‘em all day, if I’ve a mind t’. Beats layin’ down an’ diein’, don’t it? I buried m’ maw an’ paw, m’ son, an’ m’ best frien’. An I’ll tell ya somethin’, I purely didn’t like it much. Held Edie’s han’ for twenty-six hours straight, ‘till it wasn’t Edie no more, jus’ a dead thing liein’ there. But I never gave up – hopin’, prayin’ – never did. So if ya think I’m gonna give up easy on you, you’re wrong! I won’t! An’ if I won’t, why are you?
BEN: You think that’s what I’ve done?
CORIE: Ya made me a promise once.
BEN: What was that?
CORIE: Don’t ya remember? When we was first together, an’ everythin’ was such a wonder – we stayed up ‘till three, four in th’ mornin’, every night?
BEN: We made a lot of promises.
CORIE: One. One special one. Ya promised when we got old, you’d try t’ live long enough so I could die before ya? Ya remember? I didn’t wanna be old an’ alone without ya. Scared me. Shouldn’t I only pretend that happened?
BEN: Don’t be cynical.
CORIE: I’m not – don’t have ‘nough experience for it – ‘cept what I learned from you.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
se7en for your mind!
yes, instead of 1tym.
i'm too busy to post anything, although i have been wanting to rant lately.
anywhoo. listen to some wonderful se7en... and prepare for his u.s. debut :D
Come back to me (English Version) - Se7en
Come back to me (Part 2) - Se7en
i'm too busy to post anything, although i have been wanting to rant lately.
anywhoo. listen to some wonderful se7en... and prepare for his u.s. debut :D
Come back to me (English Version) - Se7en
Come back to me (Part 2) - Se7en
-pachia
Excerpt from the play ROUGH DRAFT
THE WRITER is completing the rough draft of a story. At this point the character of RUPERT has returned to his lover CYNTHIA after being away at war.
RUPERT: Cynthia. My love. You’ve changed.
CYNTHIA: Changed, my dearest? I haven’t changed – I have stayed just as you remembered me. It’s you who have changed.
RUPERT: I suppose I have. The war …
CYNTHIA: I know.
RUPERT: What do you know?! Wait – I’m sorry … I was wounded, did I tell you that? How have I changed?
CYNTHIA: In little ways.
RUPERT: It was in the Google …
CYNTHIA: What?
RUPERT: Where I was wounded.
CYNTHIA: Oh? And where is that … exactly … where …?
RUPERT: About a hundred miles north of Paris.
CYNTHIA: Oh. And … I mean … where does it hurt?
(THE WRITER types.)
RUPERT: In my head.
(THE WRITER types.)
In my arm.
(THE WRITER types.)
In a place I can’t show you at the moment.
CYNTHIA: Oh dear.
RUPERT: Oh dear?
CYNTHIA: I’m sorry you were wounded.
RUPERT: I was wounded?
CYNTHIA: That’s what you just said.
RUPERT: I did?
CYNTHIA: You don’t remember?
RUPERT: Remember what?
CYNTHIA: Being wounded.
RUPERT: I was wounded?
CYNTHIA: In the Google.
RUPERT: A hundred miles north of Paris.
CYNTHIA: Yes!
RUPERT: I don’t remember.
CYNTHIA: Nothing? Anything?
RUPERT: It comes and goes. Did I tell you I was wounded?
CYNTHIA: Yes. Beside that, what do you remember?
RUPERT: Clean slate. Nothing.
CYNTHIA: Oh.
RUPERT: Why is that?
CYNTHIA: How should I know?
RUPERT: It bothers you, doesn’t it? We know each other, and it bothers you I don’t remember.
CYNTHIA: The important thing is that you get better.
RUPERT: We’ve known each other a long time? We’ve known each other a short time? We do know each other.
(CYNTHIA stares it Rupert,)
Oh-h-h …
CYNTHIA: What?
RUPERT: We … know, that is, KNOW … and uh, that is, YOU … and you know that … I don’t … I mean I DO, I really do, but I don’t … know … that I do … know. Is this making any sense to you at all?
CYNTHIA: I’m trying.
RUPERT: So I was thinking … that is, you know, I was thinking …
CYNTHIA: What?
RUPERT: I was thinking, I mean – it occurred to me that, if maybe, maybe we were to uh, that is, if we … knew each other … a little … maybe my memory would come back. Maybe. You know – I think that doing things that are familiar to me … might … it was just a thought.
CYNTHIA: Do you really think that would help?
RUPERT: Cross my heart!
CYNTHIA: I don’t know what to say.
RUPERT: I understand.
CYNTHIA: If you really think that would help …
RUPERT: I do! I do!
THE WRITER: Rupert hesitated, wondering if now was the time …
RUPERT: No no no. Hesitation – bad thing. Bad. Mind your own business!
THE WRITER: … wondering if now was the time to tell her …
RUPERT: Tomorrow! I’ll tell her tomorrow! Promise!
THE WRITER: ... the time to tell her his terrible secret ...
RUPERT: Later tonight. I’ll tell her tonight. Later.
THE WRITER: … this terrible secret he had been keeping …
RUPERT: Fifteen minutes! Please!
THE WRITER: … a secret he could no longer keep alone. A secret he must share with …
RUPERT: Alright! Alright! So what’s this big deal secret? And make it quick.
THE WRITER: Approaching Cynthia, he takes her tenderly in his arms …
RUPERT: That part’s good.
THE WRITER: Looking deep into her eyes, he says …
RUPERT: Darling, there’s something I have to tell you.
CYNTHIA: What is that, my dearest?
RUPERT: I have no idea. What?
THE WRITER: I have an incurable disease.
RUPERT: I’ve got a very bad cold. (HE coughs once.)
THE WRITER: I have a wife and three children in another town.
RUPERT: I have relatives in Outer Mongolia.
CYNTHIA: You do?
RUPERT: So it seems.
CYNTHIA: We’ll have to go visit them sometime.
RUPERT: Yeah sure.
THE WRITER: I’m actually gay.
RUPERT: I’m actually ga … ga …very happy to be here.
RUPERT: Cynthia. My love. You’ve changed.
CYNTHIA: Changed, my dearest? I haven’t changed – I have stayed just as you remembered me. It’s you who have changed.
RUPERT: I suppose I have. The war …
CYNTHIA: I know.
RUPERT: What do you know?! Wait – I’m sorry … I was wounded, did I tell you that? How have I changed?
CYNTHIA: In little ways.
RUPERT: It was in the Google …
CYNTHIA: What?
RUPERT: Where I was wounded.
CYNTHIA: Oh? And where is that … exactly … where …?
RUPERT: About a hundred miles north of Paris.
CYNTHIA: Oh. And … I mean … where does it hurt?
(THE WRITER types.)
RUPERT: In my head.
(THE WRITER types.)
In my arm.
(THE WRITER types.)
In a place I can’t show you at the moment.
CYNTHIA: Oh dear.
RUPERT: Oh dear?
CYNTHIA: I’m sorry you were wounded.
RUPERT: I was wounded?
CYNTHIA: That’s what you just said.
RUPERT: I did?
CYNTHIA: You don’t remember?
RUPERT: Remember what?
CYNTHIA: Being wounded.
RUPERT: I was wounded?
CYNTHIA: In the Google.
RUPERT: A hundred miles north of Paris.
CYNTHIA: Yes!
RUPERT: I don’t remember.
CYNTHIA: Nothing? Anything?
RUPERT: It comes and goes. Did I tell you I was wounded?
CYNTHIA: Yes. Beside that, what do you remember?
RUPERT: Clean slate. Nothing.
CYNTHIA: Oh.
RUPERT: Why is that?
CYNTHIA: How should I know?
RUPERT: It bothers you, doesn’t it? We know each other, and it bothers you I don’t remember.
CYNTHIA: The important thing is that you get better.
RUPERT: We’ve known each other a long time? We’ve known each other a short time? We do know each other.
(CYNTHIA stares it Rupert,)
Oh-h-h …
CYNTHIA: What?
RUPERT: We … know, that is, KNOW … and uh, that is, YOU … and you know that … I don’t … I mean I DO, I really do, but I don’t … know … that I do … know. Is this making any sense to you at all?
CYNTHIA: I’m trying.
RUPERT: So I was thinking … that is, you know, I was thinking …
CYNTHIA: What?
RUPERT: I was thinking, I mean – it occurred to me that, if maybe, maybe we were to uh, that is, if we … knew each other … a little … maybe my memory would come back. Maybe. You know – I think that doing things that are familiar to me … might … it was just a thought.
CYNTHIA: Do you really think that would help?
RUPERT: Cross my heart!
CYNTHIA: I don’t know what to say.
RUPERT: I understand.
CYNTHIA: If you really think that would help …
RUPERT: I do! I do!
THE WRITER: Rupert hesitated, wondering if now was the time …
RUPERT: No no no. Hesitation – bad thing. Bad. Mind your own business!
THE WRITER: … wondering if now was the time to tell her …
RUPERT: Tomorrow! I’ll tell her tomorrow! Promise!
THE WRITER: ... the time to tell her his terrible secret ...
RUPERT: Later tonight. I’ll tell her tonight. Later.
THE WRITER: … this terrible secret he had been keeping …
RUPERT: Fifteen minutes! Please!
THE WRITER: … a secret he could no longer keep alone. A secret he must share with …
RUPERT: Alright! Alright! So what’s this big deal secret? And make it quick.
THE WRITER: Approaching Cynthia, he takes her tenderly in his arms …
RUPERT: That part’s good.
THE WRITER: Looking deep into her eyes, he says …
RUPERT: Darling, there’s something I have to tell you.
CYNTHIA: What is that, my dearest?
RUPERT: I have no idea. What?
THE WRITER: I have an incurable disease.
RUPERT: I’ve got a very bad cold. (HE coughs once.)
THE WRITER: I have a wife and three children in another town.
RUPERT: I have relatives in Outer Mongolia.
CYNTHIA: You do?
RUPERT: So it seems.
CYNTHIA: We’ll have to go visit them sometime.
RUPERT: Yeah sure.
THE WRITER: I’m actually gay.
RUPERT: I’m actually ga … ga …very happy to be here.
Sex and the City: The Male Kryptonite
I’ve always wondered what movies like Rambo said about men to women: maybe that the act of justified killing/disemboweling/beheading is a mask for our failing macho image. I’m no Freud, but I can picture women validating our fondness for manly movies with that rationale. On the flipside, what do men think about women when watching Sex and the City: Women live for the next purse, the next pair of shoes, the next shopping trip? They think that clothing and accessories will fill the voids in their lives left by men, the way violence fills the voids in men’s lives left by women? Uh oh, I mentioned shoes — let the letter writing commence.
And there a conundrum emerges: how can a person with a penis appropriately review Sex and the City without incurring the wrath of the people with vaginas who flock to its mesmerizing glow? It’s impossible. It wouldn’t matter anyway, though, because the women who watched the show are going to line up for the movie no matter what critics write about it. And they'll all think it's wonderful, even if it is clearly not. Because not liking it will be an act of betrayal and women hate betrayal, which is why they come down on men so hard when we do it.So women will love it, but this man thought it was ridiculously tedious and about 45 minutes too long, a little too episodic and jumpy, and just bland enough to be neither interesting nor boring. That’s the bad. Here’s the good: some of the characters are actually worth caring about (they feel real) and the movie gives them reason to shine in a city where people were born to shine — New York City.
Like the hit HBO show, the one that ended four years ago, Sex and the City follows the city-wide adventures of four best friends — Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda. Like almost every female movie character in New York City, Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) is a columnist who rants and raves in writing about her friends’ romantic lives. Samantha (Kim Cattrall), the oldest, is a cougar, an over-40 sex addict one pair of stilettos away from being a complete whore — her words, not mine. She’s since relocated to Los Angeles, where she gawks at a Spanish surfer in the next bungalow. Charlotte (Kristin Davis) is kinda normal with a husband and also an adopted daughter who derails someone else’s entire year by playfully hiding a cell phone at a key moment. Finally, there’s Miranda, a dedicated professional too busy to wax a forest of pubic hair that's spilling from her swimsuit, and way too busy to have a sex life with her husband. So he cheats, no doubt with someone who owns a razor. These are just broad overviews of the characters; the film expands and collapses their dilemmas several times each, revealing that maybe all the women share the same dilemma — men. 
Sex and the City mainly deals with Carrie (played so confidently by Parker), the reluctant star who narrates her own story. She has a man problem, too: She loves Mr. Big (Chris Noth), a suave businessman she’s broken up with several times over. He's rich, although we never learn what he does; if he were smart he'd sell women's shoes and purses to the other characters, who toss $500 at things they don't have room for in their closets. The film toys with their engagement — “I don’t want a ring, just a really big closet,” Carries says, proving my point — and their eventual wedding, which may never happen.
As an ensemble piece, Sex and the City is a little too all-over-the-place, with too many different tones and muted moments. Much of it flies on auto-pilot even when it has something interesting to do or say, like when Charlotte, after years of not being able to have children, gets preggers. Just when it tries to get deeper, it cops out with a joke only owners of a Louis Vuitton bag can appreciate. (Speaking of LV: Women, it's a purse, a vessel in which to put stuff. The vessel should not be more expensive than the stuff.) As a thesis on love, though, the film works surprisingly well; it ponders the whys more than the whats and hows. It’s by no means highbrow — diarrhea plays a significant role at one point — but it attempts to justify its motions with its message, mainly through Carrie’s troubled romance to Big.This Big guy — the movie apparently, and finally, reveals his full name — is supposed to represent the men of the world. He is kind and gentle, treats the friends with respect, pays for dinners, dresses nice, isn't gay (half the other males in the film are) and he dotes on Carrie, at one point even buying her an apartment so nice she refers to it as heaven. He's so wonderful that he starts to not exist, he just drifts into the background like all the other things that come and go in these womens' lives — pastels, Burberry winterwear, vintage jewelry, martinis, heals with straps. At one point his name is said more than we've actually seen him. I'd love to know his side of the story. Surely, he'd put a cap on the shopping, the incessant bitching and clothes that reveal Carrie's underwear (I almost saw Mrs. Ferris Bueller's boobies!).
Love in New York City looks intoxicating. Something about the city — the verticalness of it all, the close quarters, the narrow streets dense with people — makes romance more potent. Love fills and scents the air and the tall stone and steel buildings keep it lingering above your head. On the horizontal plane of Arizona, love doesn’t go up, it goes out, it dilutes into nothing from here to the next Walgreens or McDonald’s. I never wanted to live in New York City so bad until this movie. Only Woody Allen and Spike Lee have written and directed so fondly around the city.But this isn’t just about sex and its famous city. Punctuating every second of every scene is fashion. Never has a movie so heavily relied on it before, except maybe in Robert Altman’s Prêt-à-Porter, which ended on an anti-fashion note. At one point Carrie and her BFFs participate in Fashion Week and attend a runway show — ironic considering the entire movie is one elongated exhibition of fashion so daring (and often times ugly) that only in New York City could women get away with these outfits. When the credits started rolling I half expected Marc Jacobs to come out and take a bow.
There are three scenes that feature no fashion whatsoever: The first is with Cattrall, who wants to surprise her man with a sushi dinner spread out on her naked body — yes, tuna on her tuna! The second is with Cynthia Nixon as she has makeup-sex with her husband. The scene of Nixon reminded me of what someone once said about Sex and the City: "Everyone gets naked at some point except the one you want to see naked, Sarah Jessica Parker." True. And third, the Spanish surfer showers in the buff revealing his naked penis. Considering how many breasts we see, and that women are the target demographic, I'm thankful it's the only penis that makes an appearance.
It may seem like I've really railed on this movie, and it deserves it, but it's also not nearly as bad as it could have been. Under the right conditions Carrie is an interesting and sympathetic character. I wanted her to find true love. Her happiness was as joyful to me as it was for her. But that doesn't mean Parker is any better of an actress — now that Sex is over she's basically unemployed, as is Ferris. My biggest complaint is that the movie isn't really a movie. It's just an extension of the show. Just because it's on the big screen doesn't qualify it as a film. The characters were already established, the stories already kickstarted, the style and setting already cemented into pop culture. There was nothing really to do except deliver more of what's already been established: that women desire romance but crave new clothes, that women are likely to blame the men just as the men blame the women, that women's lives are complex but they always have room to comfort other women in their time of need. But one more thing …Funny how the movie will supposedly empower women, yet all these women want are new shoes. Then again, of all the things Rambo could be doing, he chooses to rip out some poor guy’s esophagus. I guess neither sex has room to talk.
***Large portions of this review originally appeared in the West Valley View May 30, 2008.***
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Women Wearing Girdles Vids
STORIES THAT HEAL, 27 May 2008
thank all participants of the 3rd meeting of the cycle "STORIES THAT HEAL."
On Tuesday May 27, reflexionaos on the story by Julio Cortazar: "A yellow flower"
really was a meeting of the experiences and rich experience that PC we turned, we encourage you to leave your impressions in the blog. And we also provide the link (thanks Sonia!) Where you can read the story again. Greetings to all
Alejandro and Marcela
http://www.literaberinto.com/CORTAZAR/unafloramarilla.htm
thank all participants of the 3rd meeting of the cycle "STORIES THAT HEAL."
On Tuesday May 27, reflexionaos on the story by Julio Cortazar: "A yellow flower"
really was a meeting of the experiences and rich experience that PC we turned, we encourage you to leave your impressions in the blog. And we also provide the link (thanks Sonia!) Where you can read the story again. Greetings to all
Alejandro and Marcela
http://www.literaberinto.com/CORTAZAR/unafloramarilla.htm
GTA IV Lola Del Rio
If you don’t feel like you wasted enough time chasing non-existent Bigfoot, Leatherface and UFOs all over San Andreas, you have another chance with GTA IV. The new GTA game is out and so are the infamous GTA myths. This time the myth is a lot sexier, it’s hot and suggestive lollipop sucking girl called Lola. Fake screenshots and stories on how to find her already started to appear all over the Internet.
Lola is a prostitute who appears on promotional artwork for the game. In October 2007, her character art was painted on the side of a building in SoHo, New York, advertising the game. She can be found near the docks. After a certain point in the game, you can search the Police Database for Lola Del Rio and it will tell you she was one of the first prostitute to return to Star Junction (Time Square) even after it was called a family zone.
Little is known about her, and no one is certain if she is in the game. She might not even be a prostitute, as it says she came to Liberty City to become a stage performer.
Little is known about her, and no one is certain if she is in the game. She might not even be a prostitute, as it says she came to Liberty City to become a stage performer.
LCPD Database
Surname : Del Rio
First Name : Lola
Age: 22
Place of Birth : San Fierro
Affiliations : N/A
Criminal Record :2003 - Prostitution 2005 - Public Lewdness 2007 - Prostitution
Notes :Believed to have moved to Liberty City from San Fierro to pursue a stage career. One of the first prostitutes to return to Star Junction after it was said to be a family friendly zone. Often seen sucking on a red lollipop.
The red dots are where it was claimed Lola can be found, and the red lines represent her possible routes.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Be Nice or Leave
The summer of the red pill is also the going to be the second summer of love--can you feel it? It's gonna be bigger, faster, stronger and BETTER than the last one.The 60s are dead. Long live the 60s!No rules or regulations, except the Dr. Bob tag i saw all over NOLA--"Be Nice or Leave."An addendum to this could be, "Free yr ass, and the rest will follow."A great orgasm is like a meal of whole,
Monday, May 26, 2008
An excerpt from the play MORGAN
I’m in a mood tonight. Melancholy. It’s late. Dark. Quiet. In the past, this has not always been a good thing for me. Normally on nights like this I’d enjoy nothing better than to go out and howl at the moon. I truly want to do that.
However. It’s raining outside. From past experience, I know it’s difficult for me to get a good howl going when the moon is behind the clouds and my feet are wet.
Because of this I feel more inclined to share something with you tonight. It’s funny in a way. I’ve made all these claims about being a playwright, and I don’t think I’ve ever shared anything I’ve written.
And so, BECAUSE it’s late, and BECAUSE I’m in a mood, I’m going to give you what I consider to be the best monologue from the best play I’ve written. You’ve never seen it before. I’ve never offered it for production. But I give it to you tonight because you will understand what I’m saying.
A young Morgan le Fay has joined a coven of witches in order to advance her knowledge of magical spells. Her teacher, however, is concerned that Morgan’s focus is along the lines of black magic only, ignoring the more common earth magic and potions.
WITCH: A mage of worth is filled with wonder for all things. Knowledge is gleaned from the richness and variety of experiences. She can ill afford the luxury of a SINGLE abiding passion. If one favors the darkness, she will be blinded by the light.
MORGAN: And if the light gives naught but pain, would she not be wise to avoid it?
WITCH: And in so doing, avoid all the light may disclose? Smell the air. Do it.
(MORGAN sniffs the air,)
What say you? What do you perceive?
MORGAN: Nothing. Air.
WITCH: You do not allow yourself the most simple – the most basic – of pleasures. There’s no weakness, no surrender, in the enjoyment of that which is freely given. Given! Not bartered. Not sold or purchased. The light, the air …
MORGAN: Nothing is freely given! Not even air. It is taken!
WITCH: Can you not smell the scent of hay fresh mown? The faint tickle of dry leaves burning? You take them, true enough. But what price is attached? The trees below, shimmering in the moonlight … The stars above. Look to the stars, tell what you see, what you feel … what THEY cost you.
MORGAN: I once thought they be not stars but mirrors of my soul – those myriad twinklings set apart, aloof. How alike we are, I thought, to watch as bourgeous kingdoms rise, gasp for life and fall. To remain pure, chaste, unreached and unreachable, thereby avoiding the countenance of that soiled creature – God, in His perfect wisdom – permitted to begrime the earth. To live forever! To never age, or … or if to die, to die apurpose, a bright burning gash across the heavens. I thought them supreme! Omnipotent! One with the creator! But with the coming of the simple morn they depart, those stars. Frightened – no, offended – by the belligerence of the sun. I remain. I. Take me with you! Leave me not to face the iniquities of this little life … which draw me away … which make me less like you.
(MORGAN laughs.)
They do not hear me. Or, if hearing, disdainfully ignore my supplication. And in my heart, that secret place where truth be not denied, I am pleased – grateful! For if in compassion they respond, then they be more like me than I would be like them. And so … for a space I forgot them, moved as I was toward consuming sorrow, the pain within all too jealous for attention. And now I think again we are alike, those stars and I. Distant. Untouched. Unknowing. Affecting not the nature of any living thing, save as a curiosity. Existing for the mere sake of … existing.
WITCH: A pity there be no magic to fill an empty heart.
However. It’s raining outside. From past experience, I know it’s difficult for me to get a good howl going when the moon is behind the clouds and my feet are wet.
Because of this I feel more inclined to share something with you tonight. It’s funny in a way. I’ve made all these claims about being a playwright, and I don’t think I’ve ever shared anything I’ve written.
And so, BECAUSE it’s late, and BECAUSE I’m in a mood, I’m going to give you what I consider to be the best monologue from the best play I’ve written. You’ve never seen it before. I’ve never offered it for production. But I give it to you tonight because you will understand what I’m saying.
A young Morgan le Fay has joined a coven of witches in order to advance her knowledge of magical spells. Her teacher, however, is concerned that Morgan’s focus is along the lines of black magic only, ignoring the more common earth magic and potions.WITCH: A mage of worth is filled with wonder for all things. Knowledge is gleaned from the richness and variety of experiences. She can ill afford the luxury of a SINGLE abiding passion. If one favors the darkness, she will be blinded by the light.
MORGAN: And if the light gives naught but pain, would she not be wise to avoid it?
WITCH: And in so doing, avoid all the light may disclose? Smell the air. Do it.
(MORGAN sniffs the air,)
What say you? What do you perceive?
MORGAN: Nothing. Air.
WITCH: You do not allow yourself the most simple – the most basic – of pleasures. There’s no weakness, no surrender, in the enjoyment of that which is freely given. Given! Not bartered. Not sold or purchased. The light, the air …
MORGAN: Nothing is freely given! Not even air. It is taken!
WITCH: Can you not smell the scent of hay fresh mown? The faint tickle of dry leaves burning? You take them, true enough. But what price is attached? The trees below, shimmering in the moonlight … The stars above. Look to the stars, tell what you see, what you feel … what THEY cost you.
MORGAN: I once thought they be not stars but mirrors of my soul – those myriad twinklings set apart, aloof. How alike we are, I thought, to watch as bourgeous kingdoms rise, gasp for life and fall. To remain pure, chaste, unreached and unreachable, thereby avoiding the countenance of that soiled creature – God, in His perfect wisdom – permitted to begrime the earth. To live forever! To never age, or … or if to die, to die apurpose, a bright burning gash across the heavens. I thought them supreme! Omnipotent! One with the creator! But with the coming of the simple morn they depart, those stars. Frightened – no, offended – by the belligerence of the sun. I remain. I. Take me with you! Leave me not to face the iniquities of this little life … which draw me away … which make me less like you.
(MORGAN laughs.)
They do not hear me. Or, if hearing, disdainfully ignore my supplication. And in my heart, that secret place where truth be not denied, I am pleased – grateful! For if in compassion they respond, then they be more like me than I would be like them. And so … for a space I forgot them, moved as I was toward consuming sorrow, the pain within all too jealous for attention. And now I think again we are alike, those stars and I. Distant. Untouched. Unknowing. Affecting not the nature of any living thing, save as a curiosity. Existing for the mere sake of … existing.
WITCH: A pity there be no magic to fill an empty heart.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
im already going to go broke.
I just love their ubercoolness. And their tucked in shirts and cute skirts!However, I am having a hard time deciding what I really need because I WANT a lot of things, even if I DONT NEED THEM. You know how that goes.
WHAT I DO NEED:
- shoes but SHOES ARE EXPENSIVE. i want to buy a bunch of cheap cute sandals/flats. but can someone explain to me why those gladiator sandals are so popular? i am just not into them. but im not really into showing off my feet because i have huge ugly big feet (i am a size 8.5 in womens) so feet are gross to me.
shorts. i have a ton of skirts but i need some shorts. i really like tailored shorts or just regular jean shorts but i really want some pumpkin shorts!
WHAT I REALLY WANT:
- dresses. it is summer and i really want a colorful and cute summer dress. or something very simple but still pretty.
The problem is that I don't really want to go splurging because I am really a cheapskate. So it is hard for me to go and spend like $20 bucks on a teeshirt. I am just not one of those people who can spend a couple hundred on really cool shoes, I just can't do it. I am really good at finding the right price so it will be quite an adventure when I go shopping next weekend. :]But I really like these bows that they are selling online. They would be the cutest accesories for a simple outfit.
So I think the whole "glow in the dark" and retro neon colors has spread to Korea. Influence from Kanye West? Maybe. But Koreans spin it their own way and it is still super cool.
definetly kanye west influenced idea in the glow in the dark shoes!
big bang's "with u"
C H R I S T I N A .
big bang's "with u"
C H R I S T I N A .
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Raica Oliveira -- Ronaldo' girlfriend
January 22, 1984) is a Brazilian supermodel and reporter [1][2], one of the best known faces of Dior, Dolce & Gabbana, Yves Saint Laurent, Vogue, Chanel, Lancome, Victoria's Secret, Pepe Jeans,Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue, JLO, H&M, Elle, Marie Claire, TNG, Ann Taylor and XOXO. She resides in New York City.
Early life
Raica was born in Niterói, Brazil, the youngest of three children. She has two brothers: Givago (an economist) and Pablo (a lawyer).She graduated from the Sao Vicente de Paula school in Niteroi.[3].
Before becoming a model she practiced bodyboarding.[4] She dreamed of becoming a model since she was ten years old[5] . Raica was discovered by the same agent who discovered supermodel Gisele Bundchen Sergio Mattos[6].
In 1999, Raica entered the Elite Model Look contest in Brazil. At the age of 15 she beat 30,000 girls for the top prize and was sent to Nice, France, for the final international competition, where she placed second. Soon thereafter, she moved to New York with her mother Conceição de Oliveira to try to build her career.
Career
Oliveira was christened "The Sensation" at the fall fashion shows in Paris and Milan.[7] She was one of the most talked about[7] models of the season alongside older fellow Elite stars Adriana Lima, Maggie Rizer, Oluchi and Karen Elson, and she continued so the seasons later on.
Her first job was a Christian Dior campaign which she shot with photographer Nick Knight that appeared in Vogue, Vanity Fair, Cosmopolitan, Glamour, Mademoiselle, and other fashion magazines. In 2001 Raica Oliveira was ranked by the magazine Istoe Gente to be on of the best paid Brazilian supermodels, earning US$300,000 for working for famous fashion brands and walking more than 76 fashion shows in only two seasons.[8]She is also featured in a Dolce & Gabbana parfums campaign in 2003. Raica was photoshooted for a Yves Saint Laurent and a La Perla advertisement in 2004.
Raica posed half-nude for the Pirelli Calendar in 2005 .
In 2006 Oliveira was unveiled as a spokesmodel for the cosmetics company Lancome[9] and fashion laicence Punto Blanco. Oliveira replaced top model Naomi Campbell at Selmark Underwear Collection 2006 fashion show.[10] She worked for Victoria's Secret only once. Oliveira has joined the ranks of supermodels charging over €20,000 for a fashion show to step out for TNG fashion show in Rio.[11] In February 2007 she appeared in Sports Illustrated.[12] In March 2007 Oliveira joined IMG Paris and she also appeared in Ann Taylor advertisements. In September 2007 she appeared in Bandolino ads which was featured in Vogue and InStyle.[13] She is the new face of Avon[14] Oliveira is also a represantative for David Morris London jewelry.
She is featured in the Sports Illustrated 2007 Calendar[15] and appeared at the Sports Illustrated 2007 Sportsman Of The Year Awards on 4 December 2007.
In February 2008 she appeared in a GQ editorial for United Kingdom. Raica landed a contract with the fashion brand XOXO for the year 2008. The new XOXO campaign features both Raica Oliveira's face and name in their brand, revealing Raica as one of their spokesmodels, which also includes Adriana Lima and Laetitia Casta[16].She is currently with IMG Models Paris, Way Models Brazil, Why Not Models Milan, Elite Models , Munchen Models, and more; her mother agency remains Elite.
São Paulo Fashion Week released an exclusive calendar with 25 most famous Brazilian top models inculding Raica Oliveira photographed by Bob Wolfenson with art direction by Giovanni Bianco. The calendar was accompanied by a movie containing interviews with the topmodels, which was broadcasted at GNT in Brazil and then hit the shelves as a DVD [17].
In April 2008 Raica was photoshooted for a campaing for the fashion brand H&M on the Caribbean and in the United States[18].
Raica is one of the few Brazilian models who never did full nudity photography . She is completly against it:
"I could not pose nude. Nothing against those who do, but I never felt right about it. It's not something that would make me proud." [19].
For the 158th cover of the spanish YO DONA magazine in May 2008 famous photographer Jonathan Miller photoshoted Raica Oliveira in the Dominican Republic.[20]
Reporter for Jornal Record
From year 2008 Raica is also working for a portuguese media Jornal Record as a reporter in Paris and New York[21].Raica will be reporting on fashion occasions occuring in Paris and New York for the program Hoje em Dia which is hosted by fellow model Ana Hickmann[22].
She is also going to be the presenter of Fórum Desenvolvimento Sustentável 2008.[23]
Early life
Raica was born in Niterói, Brazil, the youngest of three children. She has two brothers: Givago (an economist) and Pablo (a lawyer).She graduated from the Sao Vicente de Paula school in Niteroi.[3].
Before becoming a model she practiced bodyboarding.[4] She dreamed of becoming a model since she was ten years old[5] . Raica was discovered by the same agent who discovered supermodel Gisele Bundchen Sergio Mattos[6].
In 1999, Raica entered the Elite Model Look contest in Brazil. At the age of 15 she beat 30,000 girls for the top prize and was sent to Nice, France, for the final international competition, where she placed second. Soon thereafter, she moved to New York with her mother Conceição de Oliveira to try to build her career.
Career
Oliveira was christened "The Sensation" at the fall fashion shows in Paris and Milan.[7] She was one of the most talked about[7] models of the season alongside older fellow Elite stars Adriana Lima, Maggie Rizer, Oluchi and Karen Elson, and she continued so the seasons later on.
Her first job was a Christian Dior campaign which she shot with photographer Nick Knight that appeared in Vogue, Vanity Fair, Cosmopolitan, Glamour, Mademoiselle, and other fashion magazines. In 2001 Raica Oliveira was ranked by the magazine Istoe Gente to be on of the best paid Brazilian supermodels, earning US$300,000 for working for famous fashion brands and walking more than 76 fashion shows in only two seasons.[8]She is also featured in a Dolce & Gabbana parfums campaign in 2003. Raica was photoshooted for a Yves Saint Laurent and a La Perla advertisement in 2004.
Raica posed half-nude for the Pirelli Calendar in 2005 .
In 2006 Oliveira was unveiled as a spokesmodel for the cosmetics company Lancome[9] and fashion laicence Punto Blanco. Oliveira replaced top model Naomi Campbell at Selmark Underwear Collection 2006 fashion show.[10] She worked for Victoria's Secret only once. Oliveira has joined the ranks of supermodels charging over €20,000 for a fashion show to step out for TNG fashion show in Rio.[11] In February 2007 she appeared in Sports Illustrated.[12] In March 2007 Oliveira joined IMG Paris and she also appeared in Ann Taylor advertisements. In September 2007 she appeared in Bandolino ads which was featured in Vogue and InStyle.[13] She is the new face of Avon[14] Oliveira is also a represantative for David Morris London jewelry.
She is featured in the Sports Illustrated 2007 Calendar[15] and appeared at the Sports Illustrated 2007 Sportsman Of The Year Awards on 4 December 2007.
In February 2008 she appeared in a GQ editorial for United Kingdom. Raica landed a contract with the fashion brand XOXO for the year 2008. The new XOXO campaign features both Raica Oliveira's face and name in their brand, revealing Raica as one of their spokesmodels, which also includes Adriana Lima and Laetitia Casta[16].She is currently with IMG Models Paris, Way Models Brazil, Why Not Models Milan, Elite Models , Munchen Models, and more; her mother agency remains Elite.
São Paulo Fashion Week released an exclusive calendar with 25 most famous Brazilian top models inculding Raica Oliveira photographed by Bob Wolfenson with art direction by Giovanni Bianco. The calendar was accompanied by a movie containing interviews with the topmodels, which was broadcasted at GNT in Brazil and then hit the shelves as a DVD [17].
In April 2008 Raica was photoshooted for a campaing for the fashion brand H&M on the Caribbean and in the United States[18].
Raica is one of the few Brazilian models who never did full nudity photography . She is completly against it:
"I could not pose nude. Nothing against those who do, but I never felt right about it. It's not something that would make me proud." [19].
For the 158th cover of the spanish YO DONA magazine in May 2008 famous photographer Jonathan Miller photoshoted Raica Oliveira in the Dominican Republic.[20]
Reporter for Jornal Record
From year 2008 Raica is also working for a portuguese media Jornal Record as a reporter in Paris and New York[21].Raica will be reporting on fashion occasions occuring in Paris and New York for the program Hoje em Dia which is hosted by fellow model Ana Hickmann[22].
She is also going to be the presenter of Fórum Desenvolvimento Sustentável 2008.[23]
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