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ioanna

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About Me


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My Interests

The man who can't visualize a horse galloping on a tomato is an idiot.(André Breton)Charles Baudelaire - To the Reader :Folly, depravity, greed, mortal sin Invade our souls and rack our flesh; we feed Our gentle guilt, gracious regrets, that breed Like vermin glutting on foul beggars' skin.Our sins are stubborn; our repentance, faint. We take a handsome price for our confession, Happy once more to wallow in transgression, Thinking vile tears will cleanse us of all taint.On evil's cushion poised, His Majesty, Satan Thrice-Great, lulls our charmed soul, until He turns to vapor what was once our will: Rich ore, transmuted by his alchemy.He holds the strings that move us, limb by limb! We yield, enthralled, to things repugnant, base; Each day, towards Hell, with slow, unhurried pace, We sink, uncowed, through shadows, stinking, grim.Like some lewd rake with his old worn-out whore, Nibbling her suffering teats, we seize our sly delight, that, like an orange—withered, dry— We squeeze and press for juice that is no more.Our brains teem with a race of Fiends, who frolic thick as a million gut-worms; with each breath, Our lungs drink deep, suck down a stream of Death— Dim-lit—to low-moaned whimpers melancholic.If poison, fire, blade, rape do not succeed In sewing on that dull embroidery Of our pathetic lives their artistry, It's that our soul, alas, shrinks from the deed.And yet, among the beasts and creatures all— Panther, snake, scorpion, jackal, ape, hound, hawk— Monsters that crawl, and shriek, and grunt, and squawk, In our vice-filled menagerie's caterwaul,One worse is there, fit to heap scorn upon— More ugly, rank! Though noiseless, calm and still, yet would he turn the earth to scraps and swill, swallow it whole in one great, gaping yawn:Ennui! That monster frail!—With eye wherein A chance tear gleams, he dreams of gibbets, while Smoking his hookah, with a dainty smile. . . —You know him, reader,—hypocrite,—my twin!

I'd like to meet:

..
Get this video and more at MySpace.com Which fucked-up genius composer are you?
Shane MacGowan... unconsciously brilliant. You can intelligently debate any topic from theology, history, literature and philosphy... though only while you're out of your skull on booze.
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Music:

= breathing ..
Get this video and more at MySpace.com

Movies:

.. 'frances' 'the seventh seal'

Heroes:

my father and few everyday persons i was lucky to meet'It's not what we say, but what we live. It's not what we do, but what we are'- Old Lady Gabriela

My Blog

Tribute to The Green Horses

'Green Horses' was the name of an old greek taverna at a small town (do you remember sis?) long time ago......The walls were green and it was a basement in our neighborhood.As a little girl i was insp...
Posted by ioanna on Sat, 06 Oct 2007 03:48:00 PST

To All Angels (who were/are) on Earth and Are/Were Calling All Angels

Jane Siberry with k.d.langSong: Calling All Angels ( soundtrack 'until the end of the world' )Santa Maria, Santa Teresa, Santa Anna, Santa Susannah Santa Cecilia, Santa Copelia, Santa Domenica, Mary A...
Posted by ioanna on Tue, 04 Sep 2007 02:44:00 PST

This

There's no melody and/or color in this. Silent uproar is there 'This'  =  ....................... (     )  You know.  
Posted by ioanna on Mon, 13 Aug 2007 09:41:00 PST

Boredom

  www.thepsychologist.org.uk Boredom and psychological malaise In her response to February's article 'The boredom boom' (Letters, April 2007), Marion Martin rightly asserts that it remains uncle...
Posted by ioanna on Mon, 04 Jun 2007 11:14:00 PST

A. Maslow

  Some thoughts from Abraham Maslowfrom Toward a Psychology of Being "Sickness might consist of not having symptoms when you should." "Tragedy can sometimes be therapeutic." "What we call 'no...
Posted by ioanna on Fri, 23 Mar 2007 05:53:00 PST

pleased to meet you

....maybe 'too much love' means there's no love but egoism and illusion.............   The James 'engl.beefcake' I wish I could create myselfA cool machine designed to helpNot always hurtingJust ...
Posted by ioanna on Mon, 05 Feb 2007 10:22:00 PST

This Mortal Coil - The Jeweller

Jeweller has a shop on the corner of the boulevard.In the night, in small spectacles he polishes old coins.He uses spit and cloths and ashes. He makes them shine with ashes.He knows the use of ashes.H...
Posted by ioanna on Tue, 31 Oct 2006 03:17:00 PST

reminding

we should warm the dream for it's light and the light shall not be there without warmth - ... cold times
Posted by ioanna on Wed, 18 Oct 2006 12:04:00 PST

The Stolen Child

  Waterboys - The Stolen Child LyricsCome away, human childTo the waterCome away, human childTo the water and the wildWith a faery, hand in handFor the world's more full of weeping than you can u...
Posted by ioanna on Fri, 06 Oct 2006 10:02:00 PST

the scratch

Once upon a time, there was a king who had the most beautiful diamond in the world.  But this diamond had a small imperfection, a scratch in it's center...  So, he called cutters of valuabl...
Posted by ioanna on Fri, 06 Oct 2006 01:37:00 PST