myOtaku.com: X Shadowme X

myO Still <3's You

Vitals

Birthday
• 1993-05-02
Gender
• Female
Location
• Here
Member Since
• 2005-05-30
Occupation
• Life preserver :)
Real Name
• Belina

Personal

Achievements
• http://i204.photobucket.com/albums/bb281/Soul_Resistance/Untitled.jpg... Nuff said
Anime Fan Since
• Ever since Pokemon
Favorite Anime
• I'm not that obsessed anymore, to be honest. Mostly just Kare Kano, Ceres, Furuba, Ouran Highschool Hostclub, FMA, and, of course, ShinChan. X3
Goals
• Make it out of here in one piece
Hobbies
• Paranoia, mood swings, and the occasional emotional meltdown
Talents
• :)

myOtaku.com: X Shadowme X

Sunday, June 26, 2011

The Bastardess of Oscar Wilde and Vladimir Nabokov
Impetuous imitation of Humbert's Lolita,
Decades later, no progress made,
with daiquiri lips sipped her margarita
And asked me--oh, boring, pure, polished snore-bore me!--
"Is it so wrong to be both art and artist?"

Maybe it was and maybe it wasn't.
Maybe the only reason I felt the sick green and bruise purple beast in my belly bare it's teeth whenever she was near were the heady young paige's strangled melting and smothered moaning gazes making her once again the perilous Juliet and me the barren Nurse;
Maybe she was just too fey, too fair and maybe it wasn't fair how I struggled and staggered for hours to create something somewhere above banal and bare, and with every high-heeled stride she took and false eye-lashed wink she made she was something right out of the best bits of Oscar Wilde and Vladimir Nabokov.

Or maybe. Just. Maybe. I saw the rotting remnants of the child who had existed for but a precious, all-too-short second before The World bound hear, gagged her, cut her, and stuffed her with garbage-gutter glitter all at once until she became the flighty, flirting bird sitting and drinking before me; (For, like every aspiring harlot she had never actually had the chance to grow up before she was stretched out.)

And maybe in my sympathetic fellowship--the purest, least petty part of me--, it sort of broke my heart that be her admirers Cherub-faced or Daemon-hearted, they only ever notice the stars on her face, the bumps on her chest, and the hard plastic points on her feet and never the steady hand it took to paint those stars, the artful eye she must've had to select the gorgeous blouse covering those bumps, and the brilliant mind whose idea it was to draw fairies all over the straps of the plastic points as soon she bought them.

Maybe she had given up too soon on blank pieces of paper and pencils of potential because she more-than-maybe didn't realize art has a horrible habit of eclipsing the artist and when canvas and creative captain merge many misconstrues and misconceptions ensue.

No, maybe it's not so wrong to be both art and artist--but it sure is depressing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
This is what happens when I read the exploits of a fictitious pedophile for too long.

I get the feeling that when I finally get around to becoming an author, I'm going to end up writing those horrible half-novels, half-books of poetry. You know. Those Frankensteinian half-prose, half-poetry monsters?
Because that seems to be all I can write anymore.

Well... write well, anyway.

I don't have the patience to write proper novels with detailed descriptions of the exact shade of the hero's ankle and I have too much ambition to write nothing but obese books of angsty verses about restraining orders and sex and goddesses and stupid boys with Nerf guns.... So yeah. I'll probably write something in between.

Oy. I'm tired. Might go dye my hair red in a minute. I'm not sure. Have to wash it first. I don't want the dye to come out too fast.

Then again, I might just get over myself and finish Lolita. The trouble is, that book manipulates me so well, I'm kinda afraid to read it. It's so sad the part where I'm and so well-written that I'm kind of afraid I'll start crying if I read anymore. Ah well. Josh isn't here to distract me.

Despite my half-assed efforts, I'm afraid this has turned into a summer of distractions. Haven't done a single worth-while thing in... Well, I can't even remember.
Argh. '-__-

ily
~Belinda

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