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Jolie's Journal (Comments Welcome) [First Post Has Status]

Heading out to chill with friends. So no real posting until later. But as I go, I'll leave you with my quote of the day,

I try to achieve high-culture effects through low-culture methods. I’m fascinated by low fiction that generates a physical response: disgusts the reader, makes them hungry or sexually aroused.

Chuck Palahniuk, author of Fight Club among other novels​

The beauty of low fiction!

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If only I could afford the slums of Manhattan!​
 
Speaking of Quotes,

My favourite book is the Bhagavad Gita. It's actually not. It's Chrissie Hynde of the Pretender's favorite book. According to her, "t’s a 700-verse Hindu scripture and I love the verse that says your mind can be your best friend or your worst enemy. You can either pull yourself down or lift yourself up." Having the Bhagavad Gita as your favorite book just sound cooler and more intellectual than anything I might say.

If I were being honest, put on the spot, and just had to blurt something out, I might claim my favorite book is They Came to Valeira. I mean it's not my actual favorite book. But it's one of the very first beautifully emotional romance novels (young girl, older man, foreign setting, pregnancy, lost baby, forgiveness) I read as a younger girl. It's this 1950s book set in South Africa by a woman who wrote like mad and died young. This was before Mills and Boons/Harlequin novels read all the same once "publishers figured out what women want" and cut out anything interesting that stood out from "what women want."

What really is my favorite book? I'll stick with the Bhagavad Vita until I come up with my own cool sounding favorite.


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I have an appointment tomorrow to get my eyes tested. See if my near vision can be improved a tad. So I may not be writing too much until the afternoon. If they put drops in my eyes, screw writing until late tomorrow evening.

I do tend to check in often on my Ipad mini and may do short posts typing on its tiny virtual keyboard.


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Time for this Disney Princess to go to bed.

Yawn, yawn, yawn.​

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Had a boyfriend who played World of Warcraft a lot once, never again.​
 
Ariamella said:
Jolie, you are my shopping soul mate, I can just feel it.
Click to expand...

It could well be =) I learned hard-core shopping from my mom. Mind you, I'm the kind that drives guys crazy, ala,

"So you went shopping for five hours," he asks. "What did you get?"

My eyes widen. "Get? What do you mean."

He sighs. "I mean ... what ... did ... you ... buy."

"Oh nothing."

He chuckles. "I hate that. So they didn't have what you wanted."

Confused look. "Oh yes. Absolutely."

"Umm," he ponders. "Was it too expensive."

"No it was on sale."

"So what was the point he asks in exasperation."

Let's just say when the time comes, I know all the little out of the way shops, where anything I might want is, and I have fun doing it. Even though my feet ache.


On another note, back from everything and behind the curve. I'll see how much writing I get done today.
 
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Did he appear
because I fell asleep
thinking of him?
If only I'd known I was dreaming,
I'd never have wakened.

Ono No Komachi​

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Jolie said:
It could well be =) I learned hard-core shopping from my mom. Mind you, I'm the kind that drives guys crazy, ala,
Click to expand...

GIRL. WE ARE MEANT TO BE. MY BÆ.

I will drive my boyfriend absolutely nuts when I ask him to go to the mall/outlets/wherever with me. I was the same way with my dad. I, too, learned everything from my mother. But I'll go around with my boyfriend and not get anything, but I will go HAM when I'm with my friends. Shopping is an event for me. Like, I will drive out at 9 AM and not return until 9 PM. You know, because you have to pre-game going to the mall (I always go shopping with friends), so we meet up for breakfast. Then we do some light shopping where we go around and not get anything, just kind of window shopping.

Then noon hits and we get a snack, then BAM. I mean, the shopping hits you, hard in the face with a baseball bat. Swiping, emptying wallets, and over the course of 6 hours you get braver and start venturing toward Tori Burch or Michael Kors or Gucci... And by the end of it, you have all this glorious happiness surrounding you in the form of clothes and shoes and makeup... And then you think to yourself and say, "Aria, you are a college student. Should you be spending this much money?"

You feel bad for a bit, then your mind says, "YES, ARIA, YOU WORKED HARD FOR THIS MONEY AND GODDAMMIT ONE DAY YOU'LL BE A DOCTOR AND YOU CAN GO SHOPPING ALL THE TIME. ALL THE DAMN TIME." So everything is okay and you have no regrets at all.

I know it sounds like I have a problem, but I don't. I really don't. I just like shopping. :)
 
Ariamella said:
"Aria, you are a college student. Should you be spending this much money?"

You feel bad for a bit, then your mind says, "YES, ARIA, YOU WORKED HARD FOR THIS MONEY AND GODDAMMIT ONE DAY YOU'LL BE A DOCTOR AND YOU CAN GO SHOPPING ALL THE TIME. ALL THE DAMN TIME." So everything is okay and you have no regrets at all.

I know it sounds like I have a problem, but I don't. I really don't. I just like shopping. :)
Click to expand...

Oh my! We are truly soul mates. I'm actually about two years away from paying off my college loans. Then I'll have no debt. I have one credit card with a decent limit on it that I shop with. When I hit the $3,000 limit, I stop and pay it off.

We tend to plan our trips, trying to hit stores that we haven't hit before. But every now and then I like to go some place where I can get the personal shopper treatment, lol.
 

I had fun designing the perfect shoe. Didn't quite get it down, but I enjoyed trying. You need to give it an email address to make it work. I believe you could give a false email address, but I didn't try.
 
[img=225x322]http://bostonclassicalreview.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/rape_lucretia_hi.jpg[/img]​

Shakespeare wrote of the Rape of Lucrece (aka Lucretia), wife of Collatinus, by the vile Tarquinus Superbus, King of Rome. Dressed in morning, she summoned her husband and a man named Lucius Junius Brutus and demanded a vow of vengeance. Upon receiving their oaths, she stabbed herself and died. Brutus thereafter rebelled against Tarquinus and successfully expelled the rapist and his followers from Rome at which point, he proceeded to found the famed Republic of Rome. In recalling the blameless virtue of Lucretia, Samuel Richardson wrote in his 1740 novel, Pamela, "He then, though I struggled against him, kissed me and said, "Whoever blamed Lucretia? The shame lay on the ravager only." Now at this point, you may be asking yourself, "Jolie what's the point of this history lesson? Why are you bringing up Lucretia so long after Rome itself has fallen and Shakespeare's poetry is no longer taught in public schools?

The answer is obvious; it's to introduce the funky stylings of Blood Sweat and Tear's Lucretia Macevil, my song of the week (I don't actually have a song of the week, just in case you were wondering):

[video=youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F0F9weUYGag[/video]​

[img=315x320]https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2425/3916562580_f03bfae02c_z.jpg[/img]
 
So my eyes danced across the Super Villainess Names and Titles post in the General Discussion board and I found myself decidedly unimpressed once I went through the various combinations of my real name and on the 'net persona. But why would I as a super villainess of earth shattering power and empire building mental acuity limit myself to a sub-par title?

I hunted down the current holder of the title I wanted, eviscerated her, and then fed what remained of her now slightly gross body to the inky-black, stylishly mutated wild boar that roam the death forests of my impossibly well-hidden, secluded lair and appropriated her former title as my own.

Behold and tremble before the power of I, the mighty Pink Shoe-Borg, Three-Inch Spiked Heeled Eviscerater of Men's Toes While Dancing (I would have gone for taller heels, but I wobble when they're over three inches, not cool when you're a super-villainess).

[img=430x439]https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NMhOBLEYr3M/VFlLH_OQTaI/AAAAAAAAAP4/Tsdl8Arqs5g/s860-no/ZELL001_OUT_LG.jpg[/img]​
 
I learned a new word: Gesamtkunstwerk.

[guh-zahmt-koo nst-verk] noun, German.

1. total art work; an artistic creation, as the music dramas of Richard Wagner, that synthesizes the elements of music, drama, spectacle, dance, etc.

[img=300x225]http://reichweite.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/gesamtkunstwerk9.jpg[/img]

Doubtful whether I'll ever work this into a sentence, but these myopic eyes of mine will be open to the opportunity.

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From the first exhibition of the Gesamtkunstwerk 2012 project.​


Actually, I also learned a second word today: sinusoidal from Darkangel's blog. But after I looked it up and took in its definition,

Definition of SINUSOIDAL

: of, relating to, shaped like, or varying according to a sine curve or sine wave <sinusoidal motion> <sinusoidal alternating current> <sinusoidal grooves>

I realized that I still have no idea what it means. So I don't count it as a new word learned; more a broadening of my consciousness to the fact that such a word exists.

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Clearly, my erotic fantasies are often submissive. In the physical world, I can be more assertive (to me assertive sounds less slutty than aggressive). For example, at the end of seventh grade when I was fifteen and older, I gave my phone number to the boy I liked and told him, "Call me."

He did. In the eighth grade, he took me to a school dance and when we got done and were waiting out by the lockers for him mom to pick us up, I let him know it was time for us to kiss. Like I said, assertive.

If you're reading this, you may be asking in a puzzled tone, "Fine, but what's the point of the Alien movie poster?" Glad you ask! A friend mentioned that he really liked the Alien movie. And I do too, but it brought back the memory of the first time a boy copped a feel of my breast (more than a feel).

Let's see. I was in the ninth grade and we were having this big dance for the Cotillion group I went to and I met this boy and I took him outside and taught him how to French kiss. He was a fast learner as I recall.

Later, we needed another boy for the dance classes I went to back then. Very popular with girls, but usually not enough boys to go around. So I invited him and he came. Afterward, we went to my parent's house and popped the movie Alien in (told you I would get there). And as we watched the movie, he just casually slipped his hand under my shirt and grabbed onto my breast (did I mention he was a fast learner?).

I was sort of like, "Oh! This is an interesting development." And I didn't say anything. But then he just started sort of rhythmically squeezing my breast as we watched the movie. Not in a sexy way, more like he was pumping something. So I stayed quiet. He stayed quiet and I mentally marked him off my list. Well, as I confessed to my friend, I did call him once more a few months later when we were desperate for another boy. But I avoided any after-Cotillion breasts pumping and as he went to a different school, I never saw him again until later when I ran into his picture on an Internet web page. He's a lawyer now.
 
Caught up with my PMs from yesterday and earlier today. I now have three PMs to get out from this afternoon and will try to respond later this evening. I'm also waiting for plot guidance in one of my threads before responding. Went from feeling lethargic to a bit like a bloated whale that's washed up on the beach and seagulls are picking at its flesh and you can just see some ribs visible where it's beginning to split open and you're pulling out your cell phone to take some quick snaps when your sister looks over at you like you're a loon and sort of asks, "Seriously," and you nod, because you've never seen anything that big washed up on the beach before and you sure as hell plan to get some cell phones snaps, but then she shrugs, like whatever after I broke my diet today.

The flesh is weak. So yes, yes, yes, I confess. I had a small candy bar and I feel really guilty about it and plan to get back on my diet first thing tomorrow. But right now, I'm heading home, so it'll be awhile before I respond to those three PMs. Oh and yes, I have a new pair of bifocals coming in about two weeks, so yes, at 28, I wear bifocals. These will be adjusted so I can see at a distance and also see my computer screen without hitting CTRL + a couple of times. My old pair was for distance and reading as opposed to my arms length away computer screen.
 
The Chive literally has a page devoted to crawling girls? When a guy asks me to crawl for him, I want to know my motivation first. I mean are we talking,

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Your traditional horror movie crawl, where if I can just reach the car or knife or phone, I'll live (by the way, I'm pretty sure most characters I play will be one of the first victims in any traditional horror movie). Or do we mean fit, sexy yoga girl doing a weird spider crawl?

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Did I mention I do Yoga in the mornings? Love it. Finally, maybe we mean Chive Crawling Girl gig (most guys, I think, are down with this one),


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'Cause I admit, I'm game for all three. I just need to know my motivation to get in character.
 
Throwing a few quotes out for no particular reason as I think about heading to bed. I'm not saying they're good quotes or bad quotes; I'm not saying their false quotes or true quotes, just that they are quotes.

“These girls with old gents don't do it despite the age—they're drawn to the age, they do it for the age. Why? In Consuela's case, because the vast difference in age gives her permission to submit, I think. My age and my status give her, rationally, the license to surrender, and surrendering in bed is a not unpleasant sensation. But simultaneously, to give yourself over intimately to a much, much older man provides this sort of younger woman with authority of a kind she cannot get in a sexual arrangement with a younger man. She gets both the pleasures of submission and the pleasures of mastery.”

― Philip Roth, The Dying Animal

“Sensuality is beautiful, and dominance and submission in the right context is a passionate art. A muse which ignites the flame of femininity, enrapturing both partners in complete euphoria, magnifying both the masculine and the feminine in one tantalizing unit.”

― Sai Marie Johnson


“The craft of a master is not imposing dominance, but winning submission.”

― Ann Somerville, Remastering Jerna

“Some people believe that it isn’t so much power that is exchanged in TPE, as it is authority. The intrinsic difference between power and authority can best be explained thusly: If we were talking about a car, then power would be what was under the hood. Exercising that power would mean taking the car out for a spin. Having the authority to do so might involve a driver’s license, possessing the keys, or having the title and registration.”

― Michael Makai, The Warrior Princess Submissive

“Submission was such a nice mini-vacation, in that respect, a pleasure cruise through sex with heightened senses and emotions, and no thought to the outside world until.”

― Abigail Barnette, The Girlfriend

“Submission is not in the bowing of heads or knees but in the humbling of your whole being (spirit, soul and body).”

― Ikechukwu Izuakor

“...Tomorrow I'm going to destroy you. I'm going to mark your body and ruin your mind. By noon, you won't know whether to laugh or cry. But tonight? Tonight I will revere you. I will build an altar of myself. I will frame you in stars.”

― C.D. Reiss, Sing

“Who am I to deny my Master pleasure, simply because it is not at the hands of myself? He is free to do as he will, because of the life that he has given me. I am thankful for him, for the fact that out of all of us, I am the one that he chooses to keep and care for as his own.”

― Astrid Knowles, Switch

“Bottoming doesn't make you a submissive any more than standing in my kitchen makes you a cook. By the way, while you’re there, please make me a sandwich.”

― Michael Makai, Domination & Submission: The BDSM Relationship Handbook

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My mom read Dervish stories to us. She had a book full of them. When we got older we read them ourselves for fun. The stories are akin to Aesop’s fables in that they are teaching stories with hidden nuggets of wisdom, which as you gain in enlightenment become clear. I never gained much enlightenment, but I still enjoyed the stories. I will tell you one of the stories. It’s probably originally from Turkey sometime after the 13th Century and was translated into English in the early 1900s. My version will no doubt be shorter and less interesting than any of the original variations.

*****​

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An old warlord long since having given up the battlefield lived a luxurious life at the outer edges of the empire. He chanced upon a young woman in one of the local villages and smitten, he married her. The girl, although beautiful, had no particular station in life, no wealth to speak of, she brought no dowry to the marriage and for this reason, the warlord’s chief adviser thought her unworthy of his master.

The old warlord spoiled and pampered his young wife and granted her freedoms unheard of in this time and place. She in turn doted on her much older husband and they would often sit on the balcony while she read poetry or sang to him in her lovely nightingale of a voice. Bitterly, the adviser would watch and listen, knowing that his master’s mistress would one day cross the line of demarcation between forgivable and unforgivable and then she would pay the price for striving to become what a girl of her class could never be.

Now the warlord, though retired, was still sought by the emperor for his wisdom and often left for long months traveling to the capital. One day, returning from such a trip, he realized there was a loud commotion coming outside his young wife’s bedroom. Puzzled, he walked up the stairs only to find his chief adviser and two maids outside the bedroom with the adviser pounding on the old wooden door, demanding entrance.

The adviser gave his master a smooth, satisfied smile. “The maids heard a man’s voice from within the mistresses’ bedroom. I have demanded entrance so I might see who dares challenge the honor of this household!”

“Do you not have a key?” The warlord inquired.

Bitterly, the adviser replied. “She has barred the door.”

“Ah. I see.” He turned and called through the door. “Wife may your husband enter.”

“Of course my darling,” she sweetly answered him and a moment later the door swung open. In the center of the room, a large metal bound, oaken coffer sat. It was an old chest that had once held his mother’s wedding finery and just large enough to hold a man within its depths. It was also decidedly locked by a large iron lock.

“Are you alone my dear?” The warlord asked, feeling he should say something.

“Yes,” his wife told him.

“Master!” The advisor protested. “She’s clearly hiding a man in that chest.” He then pointed dramatically at the chest, which everyone was frankly already staring at. The wife’s eyes widened. But otherwise, she showed no particular emotion at the accusation of his long tenured adviser.

“Would you care to open the chest my dear?” The warlord asked slowly.

“No,” his wife responded. “I don’t think so.”

“Hmm.” He said.

Reaching into her dress, she pulled out a black metal key and handed it over to her husband. “You can open it if you want, but I’ll know then that you don’t trust me.”

The warlord thought for a long moment. He then nodded and dismissed his adviser and the two maids. He summoned four strong men to carry the chest downstairs to his garden and bury it at the farthest corners of that garden.

The husband and wife never spoke of the matter again and the warlord's chief adviser was granted a well-deserved retirement.

 

I wish I were her Nubian slave
who guards her steps.
Then I would be able to see the colour
of all her limbs!
I wish I were her laundryman,
just for a single month.
Then I would flourish by donning [her garment]
and be close to her body.
I would wash away the unguent from her clothes
and wipe my body in her dress . . .
I wish I were the signet ring
which guards her finger,
then I would see her desire every day.

I wish I were your mirror
so that you always looked at me.
I wish I were your garment
so that you would always wear me.
I wish I were the water that washes your body.
I wish I were the unguent, O Woman,
that I could anoint you.
And the band around your breasts,
and the beads around your neck.
I wish I were your sandal
that you would step on me!

(Papyrus Anakreon: K. Preisendanz, Anacreon.)

Ah yes, the pre-personal computer, circa building the pyramids days. Now, of course, you just insert malware into her operating system and get her beauty in full color via her digital camera 24/7.
 
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To clarify, if you can find it in the Zombie Kama Sutra, then it is on my list of "Off/Hard Limit/Oh-Fuck-No" kinks.
 
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