10 Things I Bleeping Love

For about a year now I've been making a 10 Things That Make Me Happy list every other week or so having been inspired by some hipster blog that I can no longer find thanks to my laptop going kaput this summer and taking all of my bookmarks with it. It's a great exercise to keep you on track with goals and to help life in perspective. Also, it's one hell of a pick-me-up.

I'm publicizing my Top Ten of 2012 because they are bleeping awesome. Sharing is too, I guess.

✶Arting✶

I love to draw and have a ridiculous amount of sketch books full of arbitrary sketches, some of which I've shared elsewhere on this site. But arting also includes attending artist talks and visiting galleries and museums. it makes me want to rock out.

"American Thighs" by Yours Truly, 2012&

✶Barb Wire Dolls✶ 

A punk band from Greece breathing new life into and totally showing-up American music.Check out their new album, Slit on the linked site and on Spotify. DEFINITELY see them live if you can. They are currently in the NYC area.

The almighty Isis orgasming and such on stage,

✶Fennec Foxes✶

I aspire to one day own one of these little darlings. I love cats and dogs equally and fennec foxes are the perfect combination of both, except more wild. Also, JUST LOOK AT HOW CUTE THEY ARE.

D'awww :3

AND they get along with the most adorable thing on the interwebs: cats.

Just look at how adorablelelelele :3

✶Flightless Birds✶

I've discussed our winged yet non-flying feathered friends before and though they're Earth bound, they sure are fabulous. Penguins and ostriches are sharp dressers and always camera ready, although the later may be camera shy at times.

Head-burying isn't the only way shyness is expressed.

✶Karaoke✶

I love singing in general but karaoke affords me the opportunity to do it in public without fear of totally screwing up the lyrics and ruining my artist rep. Plus it's hella fun, especially when you really get into it. My favourite songs to sing include : "Que Sera Sera", "Mambo #5", and "You Ain't Woman Enough."

The Rock does it best.

✶Mangos✶

It's the fruit with the Midas Touch-- any recipe it graces is pure, derishus gold.

Mango-tini!

✶Riding my bike✶

It's like flying, except with annoying pedestrians and sadistic motor vehicle operators.

Fact: A vegan cyclist is the most efficient form of transportation

✶Posing with Statues✶

Because, like teddy bears, you can imprint your mood upon them, and they are always, always fabulous.

"Work it, Orville!"

✶Shopping at Thrift Stores✶

I frickin' love thrift stores. Some of my most beloved possessions came into my life via SalVal or some little cornerstore charity thrift ran by old people. If Macklemore hadn't beat me to it, I would have written a tribute to the world's least expensive treasure hunt:

"Fucking awesome"

✶ The Wright Brothers✶

Aviation and I share the same birthplace, so it's almost mandatory that I love the Wright Brothers. But Ohio-ness aside, these guys were some of the most fascinating and ingenious men ever to make walking obsolete. And in addition to putting my beloved flightless birds to shame, watch how they own the Mario Brothers:

**Correction: The Wright Brothers actually rep the O-H-I-O

So there are ten things I thoroughly enjoy. Take note, because when I take over the world they'll become Imperial Treasures. Besos✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶

Hey Grrrl, I Like Your Costume

There'll be many a Mystic Man and Witty Witch casting their spells this weekend. Hopefully they'll have more luck than Johnny.

Johnny's mystical powers blow your mind for all bleepin' eternity.

Go work your magic, Lovelies.Besos.

Yellow Bitch Raging Wine

So I was chillin the other night with some friends watching b-horror films, sippin on Yellowtail's Shiraz + Carbernet and the infamous Raging Bitch from Flying Dog Brewery when one of my cohorts did the UNSPEAKABLE and poured beer into his near-empty glass of wine. Needless to say, we freaked out as the deep purple mixture frothed into a bubbly hy-brew.

However, to our surprise, it was AWESOME. And so we christened it:


Yellow Bitch Raging Wine.
1 part Yellowtail Shiraz & Cabernet
4-5 parts Raging Bitch Belgian Style IPA



The world has Ben S. to thank for this derishus concoction.

Try it. Serve it at your next arbitrary get-together. Discuss it with hipsters and see how long they'll pretend to know what you're talking about. Besos.

If You Are Queer, I'll Still Be Here

It's okay if you're gay, or go either way.
It is no fault, so there is no blame.
You are who you are and it's not a shame.
You are loved, so love yourself:
Celebrate, and come out today.



In His Red Dress, Revisited 2012






No one can be a better you. Besos.

Screamed the Robin from My Windowsill

This one goes out to the bro I spied waking up on his porch during my morning ride. 

Never have I ever woken up on a porch... I think...

I was very relieved that he was, in fact, not dead. I've never had to report a dead body, and don't plan on doing so anytime soon.

I hope he has alka-seltzer in his utility belt. Besos.

Driving through New York State

New York Highway in oil pastel and ink

If I could be anywhere right now, I would be driving through rural New York state on a partly cloudy autumnal day. It's beautiful and curvy, just like my women. But seriously, it was one of my favourite stress-relievers during undergrad. So I decided to replicate part of the experience with a quick sketch-- the only way that I can in relatively flat Ohio.










Well, I could write a poem about it, too. Besos.

NO ONE IS SAFE: Sir Star-Baby of the Fifth House

What I originally intended to post was deleted because I suck at technology. But instead you get a special treat.
While I was waiting for my file to transfer, I started doodling an unsuspecting fellow library dweller to pass time. I don't know what he studies, but my guess is either business or engineering. Perhaps he's a lingering law student. If this is the case, it will surely save him some trouble in his career as a pimp of astronomical proportions. I give you the super stellar Sir Star-Baby the of the Fifth House.

Keeping his pimp hand strong.

Yes, those are shooting star-burns but don't stare too long or Sir Star-Baby of the Fifth House will back hand you straight to the Milky Way.

So yeah, no one is safe from the ridiculous that is my imagination. I really wanted to give the sketch to the kid in case he ever needed guidance about his future, but he left as I was scanning it. Next time, Star-Baby, next time.


Always accept free portraits from strangers, but never take candy from unmarked vans. Besos.

ConVoz C'est La Vie: With Your Insipid Neighbor (via ventilation)

I live in an old house divided into apartments. Aided by high ceilings, thin walls, and an old-school ventilation system, sound carries very well. Too well. Here's an example of the pleasantries of auditory encroachment. 

Some people just aren't worth your breath.

Forgive the cruddy illustration. I am sick and a graduate student; time is precious, work is hard.




Thanks for being awesome. Besos.

Chocolate Spice Football Biscuits

You kids know that I make things that I may or may not share. Usually this pertains to, ahem, Ahrt.  When comes to baking, however, it's another story. I love baking almost as much as I like baking for other people. I'm more of a cake-maker but every now and then I make brownies, cookies, and the like, especially if I have to travel with my goods.

Since tomorrow is my Dad's birthday and I will be going a ways to visit him, I decided to make him cookies, or biscuits, depending on where you're from; they're also a bit fluffy. Football shaped biscuit-cookies.

Chocolate Spice Football Biscuits

By: Alanna G.

• 0.5 cup of flour
• 0.5 teaspoon of salt
• 0.5 teaspoon of baking soda
• 1.0 teaspoon of pumpkin spice (cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg)
• 1.0 teaspoon of nutmeg (optional)
• 1.5 teaspoon cocoa powder
• 0.5 cup of butter (melted)
• 0.5 cup of granulated sugar
• 0.25 cup brown sugar
• 1.0 large egg
• 1.0 teaspoon vanilla extract

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit.
2. Mix flour, salt, baking soda, spices, and cocoa in a medium bowl and set aside.
3. Blend butter and sugars in a large bowl until combined. Beat in egg and vanilla extract.
4. Gradually mix in dry mixture until combined.
5. To create the football shape, use a scraper to scoop out the dough. Drop dough onto an ungreased cookie sheet about 1.5 inches apart.
6.  Bake 12-14 minutes. Let stand for 2 minutes before removing, 5 before decorating (optional). 

      Makes about 9 biscuits

Oh, yes. This is Steelers Country.

 I would usually coat the bottom with my super top-secret orange glazed but the lack thereof allows it to be enjoyed with tea, milk, cider, or, most suiting for football season, beer. Besides, like Bricktop, they're already sweet enough.

Hug it, chug it, besos.

Hey Grrrl: When Johnny Bleeping Met Dusty

Hey Girl,

I just thought it'd be funny if these guys met. 

Chivalric as f *¢k

Johnny, the singer from P*G*Punk, is no Ryan Gosling but he gives it a good shot. He isn't on stage but he minds his language 'cause Dusty's a bleepin' lady. 

I must admit that the taglines I came up with to promote this post are much funnier than what's in the picture. A series, mayhaps?

Chivalry ain't dead, but it may be "Dinner". Besos.

CharacterSketchd: Lusty Dusty

Meet one of the people floating around in my head: Dusty Dophane, furniture designer and night lounge denizen. Yes, that is her given name-- she was named by her hopeless romantic of a mother for Dusty Springfield, the singer to whose song she was conceived. But you don't have to say you love her to get under her skirt; in fact that may just get you thrown out at 3 am without shirt, shoes, or satisfaction. She waste no time on its trifles, immediately getting straight to business and coming out with exactly what she wants-- nothing less but maybe a bit more.

Dusty claims that lust, unlike love leaves no trace. She just  ***ks'em, loves'em, leaves'em cause she don't ***kin' need'em.But the names of her multitude of lovers have been traced on more than just her sheets:

"Lust is easier. They fall upon you in the night and in the morning you can just dust them off without a trace. No chip in the enamel, no scratch on the wood. It doesn't stick and cover your whole being like the polish of love. Love takes time. Like lust, it coats you-- but slowly and in layers, each fixing its self upon you until  you begin to shine with it. And there's no way to get it off without doing damage to yourself if you no longer want it. And when you do want and keep it, it wears away anyway. Love's glow is high-maintenance, and those who really, really want it spend all to keep it shiny. Others let it fall away chip by chip, scratch by scratch and ultimately surrender to time. Time wears love down, sanding it away and making it a dirty, dusty experience. This is why I prefer lust;  love-- at least one of the parties involved, usually fall into it anyway so why waste my time?"

If you look into her skirt, you can see Dusty's Lust List

Besos. Unless you're Dusty. She'd rather screw than kiss you.

When I Think of Orange, I Think of Fire-Pterodactyls

Happy first day of autumn, lovelies! To celebrate the changing of the leaves of this absolutely gorgeous season I decided to a) begin the rainbow chalk mural in my room; and b) start with the color this season is known for: orange!

Being that it's on display in my personal space, it's not super elegant. For each color I plan to draw a large image next to an associative list and a doodle with a silly sentence about the corresponding hue.
Here are some pics of the corner. My window faces north so the lighting is kind of shabby and will be enhanced soon.

For a more elegant tribute to autumn, click here and check out the favorite poem of yours truly.

"When I think of orange I think of Fire-Pterodactyls"

Associative list

Besos. Go enjoy pumpkin-flavored everything with a pint of cider.

Upon A Blue Moon

I was leafing through one of my numerous notebooks this morning and found a note that I wrote after waking up too early and seeing both the sun and the blue moon in the sky last month. The moon its self had had a huge impact on me, being the first time I had really stared out into the sky having moved back into urban life. But seeing it paired with the sun was mind-blowing. This poem is not really based on that note but it reminded me of how inspired I was at that moment.
 Oh yeah, I continue the trend of incompleteness, this time because I have a few chunks that fit and a lot of couplets that still need working out. I tried to share enough this time so you get the gist of  "Upon a Blue Moon."

Upon a Blue Moon

Shivering stars dip and shy away
As a blue moon slowly rises to bathe
In the infinite onyx pool of night.
I leave sweet dreams to admire the sight
Which mirrors mind's content so well:
Dreams of eyes embraced in a spell
Spun by interwoven, humbled hands.
Each speaks without breath, each understands.
The stares of others fall. Overhead stars fade
And each's reflection in the other is made.
***
Some stuff about yaddayaddayadda
Goes to bed yayaya
***

I wake early from late sleep to see
The fallen blue moon and a rising sun stare at me.
No-- it is upon the other orb that they look.
I glance upon the rare celestial being I forsook;
He glows, no longer a gem in my cool onyx night,
Oh, he shines in the common glory of that golden light.

***
Not happy but so on and so forth
***


Delight in the dreamy warmth of day.
You may have your sunshiny strands
And weave auroral threads through your hands;
For when in linens lies the world to drowse,
And rests it's warm-weary head upon cool pillows,
We'll wake and walk once again
on a starless night, hand-in-hand.
But if there were a moon to shine, let it be full
And colour this dream a truer light blue.





Hope you were able to bask in the blue moon-- the next one doesn't happen until Summer 2015. Besos.

In Progress: Miles of Atonement

I wrote the basis for a poem!
Originally it was short and bittersweet like Langston Hughes' "Suicide's Note" but it kept growing. Hopefully it will bloom into something awesome. So I present this poem, without crummy illustration and under the working title: "Miles of Atonement".


Sing, brightly forsooth
And light bedraggled paths,
Dusky-headed he who I have known;
Adore with those I will

Cross lightly in search of the long
Familiar way. Sing, forlorn
Miles, and trodden miles to come.
Sing and please

Again, take me
Along the way
Of the familiar and beloved
Miles known and unforgotten.

Sing for memory;
Humor,
And lead it home.








Besos, and may you meander the long familiar miles of love.

ConVoz C'est La Vie: With Your Mom

This sharing thing is pulling out so many of the quirks I've recessed in my mind. Like the random dialogues I write in my mind when I'm bored to be recorded later that make it to neither paper nor word-processor. Naturally, said dialogues often imitate life and the one I present to you is no different.

I don't know about other single ladies, but each time that I move to a new place every conversation I have with my mother digresses onto a certain boyfriend/baby-related path. And so I give you a poorly drawn ConVoz C'est La Vie: Every Conversation with Your Mom Ever. 

She only presses the issue because she cares. Love ya, Ma.

Remember that your voice is yours and yours alone; take care and use it. Besos.

Mt. Motherhorn, est. 2012

To say the least, kids, today has been rough and requiring more leisure than what is typical for Tuesdays. Among the in-activities of choice today was a much needed scouring of Cracked.com. If you know anything about the site, you know that it majors in silly, shortlist articles. Of the articles perused, one titled "The 5 Most Terrifying Side Effects of Exercise"  stands out in my mind for one reason; the third picture under "#5 Running Makes You Poop Yourself":

That, my friends, is world record-holding marathon runner Paula Radcliffe at seven months preggers. This got me thinking about all of the other extreme activities I've seen women in the third trimester undertake, from some community ladies keeping time and rhythm in African dance, or M.I.A. rocking the mic at the Grammy's on her due date back in 2009. But no sport or extreme recreation activities came to mind.

This in turn, made me think about maternity sportswear, specifically extreme sports gear. After thoughts of special street-luging body armour and extra-supportive, comfy stock car driving boots I struck a gem: Mt. Motherhorn Maternity SkiWear Co.

Because skiing is totally what you should be doing whilst carrying a fetus. Or holding an infant while carrying a fetus. Or pushing an infant while carrying an infant and a fetus simultaneously. Point is, Mt. Motherhood is a goldmine.







Besos, and may your dreamscape be filled with fetus-shaped clouds.
Also, feel free to comment.

"A Lady in the Evening"

As you kids know, I write things. Today, staying true to my oath to make new things everyday, I finished four stanzas of a sestina. I know that's not a complete work but writing formal poetry is fucking difficult.

That being said, I am not only posting one stanza because of the incompleteness, but because I don't want to have to personally hunt down and curb-stomp some jerk for plagiarism. You'll have to wait to read the rest when it's published. Or you can just ask. Or I'll just post it here when it's finished.

Continuing in the vein of drawing stuff to go with "boring" words, I present the second stanza of "A Lady in the Evening":

Polished white teeth glint and bear the happy

Wine-stained tongue; it softens the bottle-lip click.

A last draining kiss revives the distant words

Of a Lover who, fearing life incomplete, just sits

On a shore and watches his desires flail, feigning

Fight beneath the stars; fain to fade unseen.

* F) happy A) click E) words B) sits D) feigning C) unseen*

Besos, Mes Critiques.

P*G*Punk: Got Bleeping Blanked

So. 

There are a crap-ton of unfinished posts from THASIT and other neglected awesome. My bad. 

But I have something spectacular to help deflect from the neglect: I'm doing this thing where I make something-- ANYTHING and then post it as evidence here. The goal is to put something I made up everyday to stimulate the creative juices, mmmm, juices. So the quality isn't the best, but more than likely these are not completely finished products. 

My first post on this endeavor is a perfect example of this. I wrote a pretty fantastic punk song but do not have the means to record and post it at this time. I still wanted to share the lyrics with you kids but lyrics by themselves can be boring. And so I present this half-assed cartoon of-- I mean, storyboard for the up-and-coming video of P*G*Punk: "Got Bleeping Blanked" 

Besos, Bleepers.

Some Art

Hey lovelies, I've been crazy busy lately and PROMISE to have the rest of THASIT up soon. But until then, some art to appease you. Besos.

The Other

Repinese Daliflower

THASIT: February

So, I've been crazy busy, kids: Rehearsals, traveling, working, arting, performing, sleeping and such. My apologies for leaving y'all in the dark for so long. Even with my hectic schedule, I did not forget about my Holiday series; I just could not think of a good day to celebrate within the month of February.
     "But, Acey", you say, "What about Valentine's Day?" And to that I say, "It's Saint Valentine's Day".
     I'm not catholic. Nor do I want to partake in the capitalist circle-jerk it has become. It's a holiday that deliberately preys on the emotions of women and places unnecessary pressure on men; either someone isn't loved or someone doesn't love enough.
     "Okay," you say, "What about Mardi Gras?" Once again, I am not catholic, and secondly, Fat Tuesday doesn't always fall in February. I'm not one to throw away a good time-- just go back and check my sentiments towards Twelfth Night. I just don't get that into Mardi Gras. Perhaps it's my protestant upbringing in the Midwest. Or the Girls Gone Wild for cheap beadery images from mid-nineties New Orleans embedded in my head during said upbringing. Or that I frequent boozy costume parties on the regular and don't need to go balls-to-the-wall debauching hard enough to earn a 46 day hangover.
    "So," you ask, " is February completely useless?"
     "It has whored its self out entirely to the strong-handed pimp of commercialism. Even the day commemorating the late, great President Abraham Lincoln, also known as President's Day gets worked over by the furniture and mattress warehouses. So yes, February is a festive vacuum. That is, except every four years". I'm talking about once-every-four-years, mothatruckin' Leap Day, kiddos.
     Leap Day, is basically the bee's knees. Why? Because ladies win. Tradition deems it socially acceptable that a women may propose to a man on the 29th of February. Also, if said man denies proposal, he must either: a) give her money, b) buy her a new dress, or c) buy her 12 pairs of gloves to cover her unbetrothed hands. So women make out monetarily or with their new beau. And as a lady, that sounds pretty good to me.
   I'll definitely try to keep up the page better. Promise. But for now, I've got some menfolk to propose to. Besos.

"Winter" Walk

Snow falls wherever and whenever it damn well pleases. And it's not ready yet. That frosty preciptation has been holding out for at least two months now and, with a high of 51 degrees Fahrenheit, it ain't happening soon. But who knows what the wind will blow in these days. A prime example of this are the photos below; Lovely images of a frosted night that capture winter at its quietest-- except it's secretly April, shhh. Enjoy.

THASIT: January

January marks the beginning of a brand spanking new year and the end of the traditional, western holiday season. We get the peace and hope of New Year's Day and then, for most, it's back to the daily grind of coffee and colored pencils. Festivus is over. Everyone crashes from the holiday hype, giving January a bad rep. But, folks: you're doing it wrong.
     You'd think with how crazy folks get about Christmas that they would try to make it last as long as possible. That "Christmas only happens once a year" nonsense is, well, nonsense. It happens 12 times a year. You remember that really long Christmas carol with all the birds? The one to which no one ever remembers all of the words?

Just move your lips and you'll be fine.

     You know, "The Twelve Days of Christmas". Twelve.  In the name of all things profitable, commerce and television networks have totally screwed this up by placing the 25th of December at the end of the twelve days instead of the beginning. This leaves revelers high and dry after New Year's and cheats them out of  what I like to call the "Mardi Gras of the Winter" better known as the Twelfth Night.
     This neglected holiday takes place typically on the 5th of January. The Twelfth Night is most notable for turning the rules on their head for the sake of a good time.  Children rule the house, adults act like children (or squirrelly teenagers depending on the amount of wine), and everyone has merry old time. Everyone.
     This holiday is great to celebrate with family and friends whether you're in a relationship or single.  If you're the quiet, shy type now's your time to dance on the table wearing grandma's wig. If you're a perfectionist, today is your day to perfect how to not give a  f**k.  And,  ladies, if you're feeling really ballsy follow Shakespeare's example and be your own wingman.

 By cross-dressing and seducing a foxy lady for your bro and hunky gent for yourself. 

Go nuts people! It's like New Year's Eve Part 2: until the stroke of midnight parents get a break from being uncool, the dog can sit on the couch, and your aunt can wear that horrendous wig of hers inside-out and upside-down if she wants.

Or double-scooped and topped with lace and pearl jimmies

     But why all of this revelry, you ask? Because the 6th marks the welcoming lil' baby Jesus, who saved us from our drunken, wig-wearing ways. The Epiphany is not as crazy as Twelfth Night, but more of a quiet celebration of hope and humility, which shouldn't be to hard after the wild night before. Typically, there's a feast of sorts but whether you go big with all the fixin's at Auntie's or order carryout with the crew, it's mostly about spending time with those you love. And taking down those gaudy decorations in togetherness.
     Now skip ahead a few weeks to the Monday following the 15th. This is the day on which Martin Luther King, Jr Day is generally celebrated. MLK Day is an American holiday honoring a great American leader and civil rights activist. A lot of people are arguing that it's no longer relevant because we live in a "post-racial society" e.i. America elected a non-white as its Commander and Chief. Yeah, it's a tough job and it takes an intelligent person with high character to not run the country into the ground.
     Not to get too political but despite inheriting the one of the cruddiest economies in American history, he saved the auto industry, ended a pointless war, and killed Bin Laden. And while this ultimately benefits working-class America, they still hate him. Bringing me back to my point...

For the clueless

    MLK's dream is damn near achieved but close doesn't cut it. We live in a world where women of color are still treated as exoticized playthings and where the men are weeded out of the educational system and locked up in prisons over. Celebrate how far we've come but help get us to where we should be.
    There are a plethora of MLK Day events celebrating community and equality and if you can't find one, start one with your pals. Volunteer at after-school programs and recreation centers. Be a mentor. What do you love about your freedom? Would you have been able to enjoy it fifty years ago? Celebrate that by making a difference.
   January isn't as depressing as everyone makes it out to be; it's just that it's mostly about celebrating the bonds of humanity instead of the desires of the individual. So go out and celebrate each other. Turn the world on its head and level the fields so we can play on them together, fair and square. Happy January, y'all.
Besos.