YGM » ftw

Of drinking wine for the kids

Feylian — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 13:24:18 +0000

It is wine festival time again /GRIN. El the Legend‘s church* has a yearly charity event where all gather to have wine, good food and excellent conversation. This year I have my own table.

Folk in attendance: CC, Delicious One, Rangineer, O the Metal Alchemist, Lovely Lila (MM‘s sister), Hot Divorce Lawyer & friend and a new edition: Dandylion (Ender‘s most recent ex) und friend.

I’ve been seeing quite a bit of Delicious One…hmmm. Perhaps if when he touched me I did not feel like an ignited trail of gunpowder, life would be somewhat easier, if far more boring.

I get to have cocktails with Delightful A and Beautiful Pagan Redhead from Tall Stories tomorrow /bounce. Intelligent, well read conversation with scavenged-from-a-royal-crypt-bone-and-some-dessicated-flesh-still-on-it-dry-humour ftw.

1. Word of the day: repudiate (TheSage: 1. refuse to acknowledge, ratify or recognise as valid, 2. cast off, 3. reject as untrue, unfounded, or unjust, 4. refuse to recognise or pay)

2. Insight of the day: When you love what you do, getting up is a joy beyond all measure.

3. State of the pool: Dom Pérignon

4. Random thought: A new blogger that shows promise: Pierre

5. Awesomest lines: I’m running out of these. Play Dead by Elsa Volschenk

Drain from me all remembering
that once meant you and I

Push me off the perfect platform
where you’ve placed me

Disarm me of all idle defenses
before I slay both our souls

Pull me back from elevation
as experienced by our touch

Descend with me into this darkness
that we’ve cultivated and

Purge me of all known bliss
so I can exist without you

6. Scripture lines: Psalm 119:64 (New International Version)

⁶⁴ The earth is filled with your love, O LORD;
teach me your decrees.

*:) Rocking ain’t it.

Of me me and then some more me

Feylian — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 12:21:54 +0000

CC used the f-word* yesterday. I may have cried a little bit. I was still ok with him buggering off to Cape Town to find himself or the mountain or whatever it is that tie dye wearing, copy writing flakes who drive S4′s and own everything with the word “touch” in it somewhere do there…grrr…where was I…oh yes – for a year or two, but now it seems this is a permanent move. I love this man and he is leaving to that sodding place (insert *f-word here). Oh I’ll visit him and we’ll Gtalk but he will not be here.

Which leads me to suspect that I might be addicted to my friends…I haven’t seen MM since last weekend and I’m jonesing for her company. I am still deeply pissed at Russian Mafia Guy and Amazonian Godmother because although I understand that new love needs space, I hate that I need to negotiate a time to pick up my freaking shampoo…which is probably a little unbalanced on my side. But it kills me. Smug Marrieds** suck. Maybe I am like a Neo who focuses not on Trinity or all of mankind but just my little group of heartfriends.

In other news…I got to see Delicious One last night. That beautiful boy robs me of words and still breaks me. And yeah…the apple thing still applies /grin. I love that he is waking up to who he could be.

1. Word of the day: perfidy (TheSage: 1. an act of deliberate betrayal, 2. betrayal of a trust)

2. Insight of the day: I am a narcissist on an Evil Stepmother level. “Mirror mirror who is the…ooooh lookit…pretty me”.

3. State of the pool: Troubled and murky

4. Random thought: I now live in Midrand with Wawa and Manly Man in a huge house. Free State hospitality ftw!

5. Awesomest lines: Dra my saam by Anna Davel

Dra my saam as die nag jou koudmaak
dra my saam as jou voete bloei
en die pad te lank word
dra my saam

dra my saam as jou wonde kneus
dra my saam as die wolke toetrek
en jou asem min word
dra my saam

want jy leef in my
en jou wortels is dieper as grond
dit groei deur my lyf en dit brand in my oë
jy leef in my
waar jy omdraai en loop het ek stil-stil bly staan
op die rand van jou
op die rand van jou

dra my saam as jy grootoog wag
op iets wat jy net-net nie raak kan sien nie,
iets wat buite bly
ewig altyd buite bly

dra my saam as jou fotoboek,
vou my oop en blaai deur my
laat jou vingers dans, driftig dans
oor my krom-krom rug

6. Scripture lines: Romans 8 (New International Version)

³⁸For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, ³⁹neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

*Forever.

** Credit to Helen Fielding

Of breathing and focus

Feylian — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 11:00:45 +0000

Perhaps once you had a ‘thing’ in your life where you found silence, peace and the true reminder of what it is to be alive. For me, it was small calibre shooting. .22 ftw. When I was there, I didn’t take it seriously. Oh, I got colours, but that was because for some ridiculous reason, I had inherent talent. Heaven knows it wasn’t because I applied myself. I was /BOUNCE in my every waking moment. Bams admitted to wanting to duct tape me and hide me in the bus on our SA’s in 1996. Bastard :) He had a point though. That was the only year that the North Transvaal team failed miserably. What can I say, I am a social lubricator and my Emma skills were WELL advanced even then.

How can I explain such joy? Yes, I was firing a rifle and for most of you the thought of such “violence” is abhorrent, but to us it was better than breathing. Actually it was breathing. Slow, oxygen rich blood mixed liberally with butterflies (flying in formation), teen angst and an atmosphere that you can only find on a small calibre range*. It was the closest to Zen our generation ever got. It was more than we knew. It was lying as still as you could for 4 x10 minutes at a time. And in those 10 minutes there was nothing but you, your rifle and the sweet waxy copper cartridge which meant single minded focus on getting it right. Getting it centre, getting a bull.

It makes us yearn even now. When life and sex and being grown ups has jaded us that focus, that drive, that achievement makes more sense than Kierkegaard or Kundera or e-tv.

I miss the confines of my jacket (which I stupidly sold…>.<) the belt around your arm anchoring your rifle to you and you to it. I miss the smell of gunpowder and that snick when the bolt engages the bullet…your entire purpose of being concentrated in just the tip of your finger…and then…oh and then, the ever so slight recoil and the knowledge of a good shot. Of aiming true and leaving barely a hole in the target. No lines crossed. When you have insinuated that tiny bullet through paper in exactly the place that makes your coach beam and blush with shared “look at that”.

1. Word of the day: redolent (The Sage: 3. serving to bring to mind)

2. Insight of the day: Tension headache + Voltaren = effortless writing

3. State of the pool: endless icy cold blue

4. Random thought:Very little tastes as good as being thin(ish) feels.

5. Awesomest lines: Canvas by Elsa Volschenk

Paint me our colour
with brush strokes that speak to you the words I do not utter.

Fill up all the white corners you’ve missed
and use up all the space to say it all.

But do not ask me to pick up a brush

My silence may belie my heart’s ache
but it will show my deepest love in bright red

This is the colour that I have chosen.

Soon it’ll change to green and I would have learnt to be without you

*Kleingeweer – Quiet, the smell of gun oil – a particularly non invasive and yet soul pervasive smell that to this day reminds me of innocence and doing something so well that all else fails – Highveld dust, a perculiar mix of sun soaked baking hot indolence and blue metal cold focus.

Of moving house and starting anew

Feylian — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 19:07:32 +0000

I started YGM because I had to deal with my first true, someone-kill-me-please heartbreak. All posts before this one was done on www.blogs.24.com/feylian. I wrote it specifically for Perfect Guy. We wrote to each other every day for about 2 months and I had gotten used to writing everyday and I couldn’t give it up.

I still like the ygm format we eventually settled on and will keep on using it. I have a somewhat strange way of writing which is greatly influenced by my speech, the huge amount of time I spend on chat clients as well as PietSous and Boaz who inducted me into the doubtful joy of MMORPG (like WoW) acronyms. Therefore, a brief glossary:

ygm – ‘you’ve got mail‘. Perfect Guy and I used this in order inform one another on GTalk that we’d written those previously mentioned mails. Still just seeing this acronym makes me smile like a demented schoolgirl. No mean feat, that.

ftw – ‘for the win‘. Urban dictionary defines it as follows: “An enthusiastic emphasis to the end of a comment, message, or post. Sometimes genuine, but often sarcastic”.

/”word” – denotes an action. MSN offers custom emoticons* and the keyboard shortcuts for them almost all start with /.

/bounce – a state of being closely resembling ecstasy, before the word was robbed of its true meaning by MDMA. I am mostly so happy that I literally bounce**

*’sentence describing action’* – denotes an action. Blame this one on GTalk which bolds such sentences. We have since adopted it as stage directions. e.g. *collapses into a sobbing melodramatic heap at her twisted verbosity*

btw – ‘by the way’. Textual segue or off stage whisper. Sometimes both.

milf – ‘mom I’d like to do bad things to’

fail – Again thank you Urban dictionary for this definition: “either an interjection used when one disapproves of something, or a verb meaning approximately the same thing as the slang form of suck”. Also see epic fail.

sigh. pine. – Another state of being. Sometimes used seriously/truly but mostly it is froth.

*, **,*** – Footnotes. Until I find a way of doing superscript, yonder stars will have to do the job. Blame my love of this literary laziness on the most amazing/brilliant author of all time, David Foster Wallace.

That said, welcome to my new abode.

Feylian

*the only good thing about it btw. It fails. Constantly.

**an alarming sight seeing as I turn 30 very, very soon and am hardly elfin.