Member bio

Follows Ravens, FR, Follows, Ravens, Raven, Follows Raisins, Follows Algae, Follows T.P., etc., etc.

Tall for an elf. Head usually shaved - hair brown, blonde, some red. Eyes: grey, green, hazel, yellow, blue - combinations or shifting from one to the next. Long goatee. baaaaah.

Approx. 22 tattoos, pierced left ear, more scarred than unscarred skin.

One (maybe half) sister, one half brother (I suppose that equals one whole sibling.)

In love constantly. Heart of hearts stolen at age 16. I'm my own spouse and my own kids. (Approx.) 54 sexual partners.

Body first hit artificial light: 9/19/69

Not allergic to beer, cigarettes, water or tattoo ink... allergic to almost everything else. (I am Ravens... hear me scratch!)

Admitted drug use: I used LSD once.... for a few years. Pot, Speed, White powdery stuff - not Pepsi. (oh yeah, did the PCP thing once too.)

You name the disorder, I have it. If I don't... give me time. MPD-DID/PTSD Govt approved.

Neo-Pagan (H.P.)
Politically silent. American.

Occupies space in Levittown, PA - hometown: Philadelphia.

Is an animal. (Allergic to selves)

Loves to hate people and hates loving them.

Interests: everything (Gets bored easily)

Thinks BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER... needs to eat more donuts.
No sense of humor at all.


oh... and no, I do not have any balls.

material attachment

I'm a pack rat/purger. I'm very possessive of MY THINGS. I don't share well. I keep things for long periods of time, until I hit purge mode, then I get rid of things in large amounts. I believe this is a part of my nurture, rather than my nature.

Every kid seems to have a first attachment, whether it's a blanket, a pacifier, a stuffed toy, a doll, or something else. There's always the one thing that is the first thing that breaks the "out of sight, out of mind" rule. It's usually about the age of 2 or so.

To the best of my knowledge/memory, my first attachment was to my pipe... what I called my pacifier, due to a pipe smoking role model. I did have a yellow baby blanket with lions on it, but I think that came after my pipe. My pipe was taken from me (I think by recommendation of the family doctor), I think about the age of 2 or 3.

(Is the world WORTH saving?)

I debate this constantly.

The moments I feel that it is worth something, I go on about my business.

The moments I feel that it isn't, I attempt to figure out the least embarrassing way to commit suicide.

You can't destroy the world, but if you take yourself out of it... it just might go away.

The hunting thing...

There's a difference between killing and torturing. Like I said to the dog... if you're not going to kill it, leave it alone.

My brain was concentrating on this topic before I went to sleep last night, and something occured to me. I tried to think of instances in my own life that applied, and realized that I'm definitely a horror buff. I love horror novels, and I've seen all the "Faces of Death" and Traces of Death" type movies. I watch surgery shows on the Discovery channel. Is it my reaction to the suffering that I'm enjoying? I'll be the first to admit that I'm a total masochist... in the sense that I seem to love inflicting pain on myself. I think that maybe that's what it is for me. I'm always looking for something more shocking. I feel desensitized on many levels. I just attempt to get myself to FEEL something. I want to walk the line... the one that is between the feelings of revulsion and attraction.

SouthPark just had an episode on the other day where Kenny was doing all sorts of shocking things for money. The kids found it amazing that people would pay to see Kenny do things like eat his own vomit and got to the point of a scheduled Pay Per View where Kenny was to crawl into the bus driver lady's uterus for 6 hours.

I'm not too sure how this applies to people who enjoy pulling the wings off of butterflies, or who love watching little furry creatures suffer. I couldn't watch the part where they were showing the rabbits in "Faces of Death II". Funny how a tortured bunny bothers me more than a guy getting his head blown off. I guess bunnies are just cuter.

I wonder about whether or not the people who see things suffering every day and enjoy watching it actually are bothered by it. No matter what I watch on tv, I still feel horrible when what I'm watching involves a person (or other creature) suffering. Seeing a man with 90% of his body burned, yet still alive will get my attention. I want to see it. I want to feel the shock, and see something that I've not seen before. Perhaps I'm just trying to further desensitize myself. Perhaps I'm in training. Maybe there's a part of me that wants to prepare myself for any situation in life... so that I can act intelligently if that situation arises. Whatever the reason I want to see it though, there is still a part of me inside that is crying for the guy... a part that can imagine the suffering and that fears that sort of suffering... a part that realizes that there is a person hurting... not just an image on my tv.

It's a lot easier for me to understand those who are fascinated by what they come across than those who actually find joy in causing others to suffer. I just don't think that I'll ever understand people who can cause innocent others to hurt. I can understand people who hunt, and farmers, and even the guy who goes off the edge and kills the dog who bit his baby... but never the ones who make a living doing research and pour various soaps into the eyes of rabbits, never the child abusers wielding hot irons and two by fours, and never the ones who don't at least feel a pang of terror while watching a fish out of water.

Feeding...

Tonight I heard this squeaking/chirping outside. My first thought was that the dog had gotten to a bird.

I went outside and the dog backed up a little, and the squeaking died down a bit.

The dog pitched a bit of a fit when I went to investigate though... until I whacked him on the head. (yes... it was a gentle whack... I'm not a dog abuser.)

After getting a flashlight and scoping out the yard, I found a baby mole with its guts hanging out.

Damn dog.

I know... he was just being a dog, but I still can't deal. Eat it or leave it alone.

I feel guilty when I crush a blade of grass.

Life is life.

I don't care if you're a dog or a human. To cause suffering is not something I will ever tolerate.

I don't think that it's an energy thing. I think that it's a screw loose. Sorry... it's just an opinion. It might be facinating to watch a creature eat live food... but if it's not a swift kill and you still enjoy it... I suppose I'll just never understand the attraction.

(It's not a crossing, it's a correcting.)

To me, any medical/surgical things a person does in so far as enhancing or correcting their given body are fine. Whether or not I find an enhanced body sexually attractive depends on the person, but that's a whole other side to the issue. Funny how neither Cher nor Pamela Anderson are labeled trans-anything, yet they've altered their bodies a whole hell of a lot more drastically than most who are labeled such.

It's not a crossing, it's a correcting. A diabetic is dependant on insulin, a chemical they were born without. In order to stay healthy, they must rely on that artificial substance. A woman born without ovaries (or born with malformed ovaries - ie. testicles) is in the same category. The way I see it, you're a woman who grew up suffering from Testosterone poisoning.... now you finally have been allowed to save and improve the quality of your life. You always were a woman, you're not "changing" that. "Trans" means to cross. Not only is sex not so black and white, but you're not crossing anything... you're just correcting it. If you're trying to go from one thing to the other, you're just trying to go from miserable to happy. If you're doing anything wrong, then so are all diabetics, children with cleft palate, burn victims, transplant recipients, people who get Cancer cut out of their bodies, people who take asprin, anyone who chooses to eat rather than starve ... you get the point. Either you care for your body and do what makes it perform the best and makes you feel the best, or you don't.

Tell your mom that as painful as it is to lose a "son" she never really had, it'll be much more painful to lose the daughter that she does.

(The less fortunate...)

I've spent most of my life surrounded by homeless people. True, you might have given the guy a buck for booze... or maybe not. I always gave out change, if I had it... but once it was down to my last dollar, nope. I need to buy my own booze.

I don't care what the money is being spent on, but I'd prefer that people be honest. I'll give you a ten if I have it if you tell me you want to buy a bag of crack. I really don't care, and I appreciate the honesty. I gave a go-go dancer a $20 tip once, knowing that she was a heroin addict. I told her to please go and get fucked up for me, because I couldn't. I don't tip dancers, I just hang out with them. Many of my friends are/were dancers, so I'd go to hang out with them. I don't even like to watch the women... makes me a little sad and sort of nauseated. The heroin addict always tried working me for a tip... I never did tip her. I walked up to her the one time she left me alone and gave her the $20. Pretty much... I'll not degrade you by saying that your body is worth a dollar, but I'll give you a twenty if that will get you somewhere you are happy.

Whether or not that dollar went to booze or bread makes no difference. You gave the dollar to help the guy smile. I doubt he would've asked you for it if he was happy to begin with. He was in need, you gave.

Charity is not conditional. Some people need booze as much as others need food. As well, I'd rather a guy with a temper be passed out than beating someone up to get the money. It's really not for me to judge, and so I try not to. I'll give what I can spare. What a person does with it is none of my business.

Great, now all my good lines are ruined.

You've known me for quite a while, and I'm pretty sure that you know that I wouldn't call myself gutless. So... that in mind, of course it was not a metaphor. The fact that it comes off sounding like a metaphor is to my advantage in life though... it allows me to be honest, yet not have to answer 1,001 questions. In the case of that reply, I thought that it was perfectly placed. It basically explained one of the reasons for my ranting and ended the reply on a slightly brow raising note. Although I'm sure the same question went through the minds of many (was he serious about that?), I guess you were just the only one with balls enough to come right out and ask me.

instinct

I think about it a lot.

If I have an instinct, I question it. If it makes no logical sense, I attempt to stifle it. That there's the beauty of an evolved brain.