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Sunday, May 16th, 2010
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9:05 pm
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To the patron deity/monster/ghoul of whatever coma ward I just left;
The patient in the third bed from the right is not comatose due to natural reasons or fateful accident. He is, or was recently, the victim of a amateur poisoning. Possibly malpitte or thorn apple or whatever they're calling mad seeds now. It would be most charitable to remedy the situation. They taste awful.
OOC: Whose hospital did Sato visit? No clue. But, boy oh boy, there seem to quite a few immortals doing residencies here. ^_- So if you wanna take the plot moment, it's yours.
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(13 comments | comment on this)
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| Thursday, May 13th, 2010
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9:55 am - {L*E*V*I*} -- Fashion commentary (WIP)
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| Wednesday, May 12th, 2010
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3:57 pm - OOC: recruiting! For Hell! (Sort of?)
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| Monday, May 10th, 2010
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4:08 pm - [Mischa to Marijuana]
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Mari-sama;
I need some help. Can you...affect any of the New Ones not of an organic nature? Specifically those with electronic ties?
Best regards,
Mischa
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(17 comments | comment on this)
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10:43 am - Mischa // Never let the hand you hold, hold you down.
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The woman who raised me never tried to be my mother.
Most because she was--is--in fact, a terrible parent.
She's curt and demanding, and always on the edge of an ultimatum. She's a glutton. She declares war on anyone who dares cheat her, yet frequently exhibits business morals sturdy as wet cream! She takes without asking and keeps without fairness. She's firmly unreliable about anything personal. She's a freak and a liar and a thug. She's exhausting, always!
But when I was invisible, she came in and she picked me up and she said I could be amazing. She taught me and she challenged me, and she's never allowed "second-best" to be an option in my life. She's reason I'll never be normal, never see the world as easy or safe.
So, no, the woman who raised me is not my mother; she's a monster.
I'll never ask for anything less.
Okay, that's our dose of cotton-y feeling for today. Now pardon while I go murder a wanker to reclaim my cellphone.
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(73 comments | comment on this)
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| Friday, May 7th, 2010
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1:50 pm - Levi \\ I'm in your movie and everyone looks sad
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Mmmkay, so citywide blackout? Fabulous. Really. No better way to murder an afternoon than to be stuck in high rise (one which is essentially a Batcave, but with better espresso gear) with your mortal blond enemy, thirty pounds of legal deceit, and not nearly enough red wine. And going through this in total, head-up-ass darkness? So much better.
And what does my adorable nemesis do?
She fucking sleeps through it.
Well, fine. Whatever. Fuck my life, thank you. Now I'm stuck in a garden being methodically stuffed with buns and tea until my deathless, paranoid monster-boss deems the outside world sane again.
Or until she runs out of curry and Earl Grey.
[private]
Fuck. Fuck fucking fuckety fuck. That was--bad. Like lying in bed paralyzed and ten all over again. The way it just happened, the way it went into my head, fuck. Damn thing felt worse than poison. I said the words, I summoned, and it got better--she cut it down--but it wasn't gone.
I wish she'd taken it all sometimes. Scoop me clean like Mischa, no room for nightmares or anything else crawling into your head unasked. No dreams, no fear. She does to so many, to Mischa because she had to, to that Hadley guy because she could, to the punks she finds in SoHo. She'd eat half the fucking city (if given the chance) and barely pause to wipe her chin.
So why not me?
[/p]
Now, excuse me while I wrestle the phone away from a hysterical Brit before she guilts the Coast Guard into hunting her worser half.
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(48 comments | comment on this)
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9:14 am
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| Thursday, May 6th, 2010
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4:56 pm
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I've seen worse.
[private, visible to January]
Guard the Box. This darkness smells too much like its kin, I don't trust the contents' patience. Whatever tries to leak out again, destroy it. I grant you permission.
[/p]
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(40 comments | comment on this)
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9:38 am
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"...the ancient outlook on life and the world was essentially one of unsophisticated optimism. Nature, as a manifestation of life-giving-power, was undisguisedly good. There could be no better world than this world. There were powers that obstructed and destroyed life-giving power, but in the end they would be overcome--"straightening" (naobi) action would be directed against these misfortunes...As a result of such "straightening" action, life-giving power was perpetually winning. This was because good fortune was dominant. Possibly creativity (musubi), because of this, was a fundamental world principle." -Tsunetsugu Muraoka
Hmm.
The problem being, naturally, that an agent of others' fortune cannot design her own. At least not in the capacity necessary to fix current...setbacks. How unfair that human cannibalism is mere social peu de tabou, while my ilk's stuck unable to employ one's inborn ability for one's own benefit. (Can't eat it, can't change it.)
I think it's time to consider outsourcing.
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(57 comments | comment on this)
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| Wednesday, May 5th, 2010
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10:28 am
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It's been a month. A month.
All this time and waiting and I'm still--aii. Nobody should have to go through their milkteeth twice.
(Also it is annoyingly tricky to siphon AA meetings when one looks barely old enough for root beer.)
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(23 comments | comment on this)
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| Thursday, April 8th, 2010
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11:11 am
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| Tuesday, April 6th, 2010
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11:41 pm - Levi \\ My life is now an urban myth.
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Bitten by a crocodile. Well, that's new and possibly rabies-inducing.
Where is she? Apparently British Barbie wasn't kidding about the MIA's...
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(4 comments | comment on this)
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| Tuesday, March 30th, 2010
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11:58 am - [Txt to Raum]
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| Thursday, March 11th, 2010
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3:21 pm
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Let it never thought that I do not dearly encourage creativity and independent thought, and initiative among my staff.
That said: LEVITICUS HARLOW, IF YOU CHANGE MY RINGTONE ONE MORE TIME I WILL SCOUR THE MEAT FROM YOUR SPINE AND USE THE BONES FOR ROUX.
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(20 comments | comment on this)
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| Wednesday, March 10th, 2010
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3:18 pm - Levi \\ not an angry boy, but it seems like I've got everyone fooled
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Does letting your boss to eat your ex make you a bad person?
Or just a really keen opportunist?
(Morality is hard.)
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(comment on this)
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8:32 am - Levi \\ She can't fire me. Slaves have to be sold.
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Oh.
My.
Go--ok, there should be rules about this sort of thing. Commandments, even. As in "thou shalt not dump census paperwork on thy new assistant and then go laugh thy tiny immortal ass off in thy overpriced Herman Miller chair" because that shit just isn't fair. Seriously, Madame, I will hoof back to the headshop if this keeps up.
I'm starting to understand why Mischa never drank. Once you start...
Also: hello, hello, New York's uncommon supernatural. Thrilled to meet you. I'm Levi, Madame Sato's newest sacrifice to the powers of overtime and stress. Please don't be confused by my previous incarnation as a caustic, British blond. I'm the one that drinks. And smokes. And, oi vei, chocolate. I need chocolate. Booze and chocolate.
This was so not in my horoscope.
(OOC: Ladies and gents, meet Mr. Leviticus Harlow!)
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(comment on this)
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8:31 am - I brushed my tail for this?
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Back in the city and, aiii, has the work piled up. Neither the gallery nor the restaurant, nor the mass of whiners affiliated with each, have taken to my brief trip kindly.
Probably shouldn't tell them I have another in two weeks.
(Surprises whet the appetite, non?)
Meanwhile, I see the community has decided to officiate. Lovely, yes. Certainly not at all similar to the ocean of red tape I had to plow the first twenty times around.
Take two lawyers and call me in the morning.
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(51 comments | comment on this)
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| Wednesday, February 17th, 2010
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9:27 pm - Mischa // I travel a lot; I hate having my life disrupted by routine. (C. Stinnett)
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"Those of us with active consciences will be happiest after we’ve done the obligatory and paid our respects to the cathedrals, monuments, and museums, and, duty accomplished, can turn our wondering eyes to how the light seems different, brighter or softer or more golden, and how a cat asleep on a doorstep looks like a painting, a marvel of a cat, the very essence of France or Italy or Guadalajara or Nantucket, utterly different from similar cats on doorsteps back home: we take its picture.
We’re dizzy with the marvelously ordinary lives lived elsewhere, by creatures apparently unaware of being exotic; they buy bread, engage in traffic jams, and quarrel on park benches as if they thought they were nothing unusual. Entranced, we watch them scratch and yawn, try on hats, light cigarettes.
Years from now we’ll have trouble calling up the splendor of the Gothic apse, but we’ll never forget the square beside the cathedral where we drank coffee and fed scraps of pastry to a scruffy yellow dog, a foreign dog, his unremarkable face etched in memory. We even remember the weight and texture of the coffee cup, exotic as Tibet.
Everything has a peculiar clarity and significance because we aren’t going to be here long. In a few days or weeks we’ll leave, go home where we needn’t notice things because they will always be available to notice, but here we must seize the chance; we’ll never see this dog, this square, this coffee cup again.
...A beggar in Madrid is more charming, has more intelligent and liquid eyes, than a beggar in Manhattan; a broken-down bus in Turkey is more exciting than a bus with similar transmission problems in Boston.
We taste the different food, and it’s more than merely good or bad, it’s their food. Other food. ...We eat respectfully, filling up with otherness. ...The bed is damp and lumpy and the food overcooked, it’s raining, but look, look out the window! We’re in north Wales... In the pub, men are actually teasing the barmaid in Welsh: they live here.
...Foreign places tend to stay in the mind, alert and well lit, curiously stirring compared with where we live, no matter how satisfactory home may be. I was in Brittany, I think, and there it is, a cliff over the sea, webbed with chalk paths. ...I was in Denmark: it was a long time ago, but there are still cornflowers and poppies at the edge of its fields..." -Barbara Holland
This baby's got a plane to catch, a boy to drag, and boundaries to cross.
See you in a while, crocodiles!
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(61 comments | comment on this)
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| Tuesday, February 16th, 2010
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11:02 am - OOC: In Praise of the Cook
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"The very best of cooks are sorcerers, wizards, shamans and tricksters. They must be, for they are capable of powerful acts of transformation. All manner of life, mammal, aquatic, vegetable, seeds and nuts pass through their hands and are transformed by spells — some secret, some written in books annotated with splashes of grease and broth. For years after his death, I was convinced I could take my father's stained, handwritten recipes, dip them in hot water, and there would be enough residue of the dish on those pages to create consommé. Master cooks are alchemists, turning the lead of a gnarled root vegetable into the whipped froth of a purée, hazelnuts into digestive liqueur, a secret combination of spices and chilies into a mole paste that burns and soothes at the same time. From a bin brimming with hundreds of choices they can sense the ripe cantaloupe, the juicy peach and the blueberries that have lingered long enough on the bush to become sweet. I am in awe of their skill, their secret knowledge, the inexplicable way I can follow my father's recipe and not have it taste anything like his, missing that one secret ingredient, those whispered spells that transformed his dish into something sublime...
"Good cooks carry with them secrets locked away in the arcane languages of foods, herbs and spices. They study their alchemical properties, creating potent combinations that not only arouse our sense of taste, but offer wellbeing and longevity. In India, the 5,000 year old Ayurvedic systems of cuisine promise the knowledge for prolonging a healthy life. Through a careful combination of spices and foods the system seeks to balance the six rasas or "tastes" of the Ayurvedic diet: sweet, sour, salty, bitter, pungent and astringent. The proper Ayurvedic mix delivers a sensual, tantric experience of food. The Ayurvedic physician prepares meals in concordance with the seasons, the freshness of the food available and the individual's health needs. The cook is a physician and spiritual director, using the spiritual and physical properties of the food to enrich the consumer's life." ~ Midori Snyder
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(comment on this)
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| Thursday, February 4th, 2010
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2:45 pm - [call to Marijuana]
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