“The body is so easily damaged, so easily disposed of, water and chemicals is all it is, hardly more to it than a jellyfish drying on sand," Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale.
The Kitchen Sessions #2
(An Intimate Alchemists original)
lips
I show, you tell. You observe, you interpret, you misinterpret (sometimes deliciously).
It’s true that odds aren’t how you win most games. It’s how you play.
And you just don’t play fair.
I’m just going to leave this here.
Squirming and rolling are just a few of my favorite pastimes.
Oh, tumblr, friends are such a valuable thing.
I just got back from a nighttime diner run with a good friend. Seated in the booth, we quickly drifted from some stuff that has been bothering us to sheer silliness. We tried to keep our voices down, although we were only a couple of the small handful of people there tonight. However, we were soon a mess of raucous laughter and flailing gestures as we discussed, of all things to talk about at a diner, anal.
Tonight was, in its own weird way, exactly what I needed.
“Tie those horses to the post outside
And let those glass doors open wide
And in their surface, see two young savage things
Barely worth remembering
Feast like pagans, never get enough
Sleep like dead men, wake up like dead men
And when the sun comes try not to hate the light
Someday we’ll try to walk upright
Crawl ‘till dawn on my hands and knees
God damn these bite marks, deep in my arteries.”
I get a kick out of the fact that I’ve basically become synonymous with my love of knives and knifeplay. It’s funny how tumblr kind of finds a niche for people from the aspects of their lives that they emphasize. I’ve found that this site has a way of compartmentalizing aspects of its members. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I just find it amusing that, here, the things I’m immediately associated with aren’t necessarily things I would consider to be prominent aspects of myself.
But I’ve no issue with being Knivey Ivy. None at all.
The Knife II by ~ nena-suicide
“And she’s got red lipstick and a bright pair of shoes.
And she’s got knee high socks, what to cover a bruise.
She’s got an old death kit she’s been meaning to use.
She’s got blood in her eyes, in her eyes for you.
She’s got blood in her eyes for you.”
Rachel Ann Aust. Atlanta. April 2011
© Adrift at Sea
The Southern Gentleman insists that I look like her when I wear dark clothing. I don’t see it.
Oh my stars, she’s stunning.
