Monday, August 31, 2009

Leave me alone

ryoichi yamazaki
The children here are patients with a Japanese culture-specific syndrome called “Culture-bound syndrome”, the symptoms of which include a fear of people (Taijin-kyoufusho) and eating disorder.

In other news, Santa F. Clause has provided another varation on the Banking Queen...

And Akubi Zone just reblogged this...

the sex issue.
(via Punks Is Hippies)

Also via Akuzi Zone, a brilliant poet in the making...
My back hurts and I have to study for a biology test. Basicly this day was going great until break comes and then I’m on the floor. Or maybe it was lunch.

I hate lunch. Lunch is stupid. I hate the people I sit with at lunch. They are stupid. I hate that I continually sit with them at lunch when I can find better people to sit with at lunch. I wish that people would just listen to people, and not wait till it’s too late. I’m not too late, but I still want someone to talk to me and care about my problems. Someone who could just know that something’s wrong and help. I wish that I wasn’t so quiet. I wish I had something to say. It is absolutely ridiculous that I haven’t found a group of friends to hang out with yet. I hate high school. I hate being timid. I hate being tired. I hate not being able to concentrate. And I hate not knowing what to wear in the morning.

I hate the fact that I have to get organized for tommorrow morning. I hate that I looked bad today. I hate that I can’t get my hair to look good anymore. I hate that I can’t apply makeup in an attractive way anymore. I hate that I have to walk home by myself everyday. I hate that I have a biology quiz on Wednesday. I hate that my friend broke her ankle. I hate that I have terrible posture. I hate that I’m not friendly. I hate that I’m not happy. I hate that I’m not welcoming. I hate that I’m introverted. I hate that I care too much. I hate that my parents liked me better when I was younger. I hate that they don’t like me now. I hate that I can be a bitch. I hate that this year is going by so slowly. I hate that I regret what I say sometimes. I hate that I like this guy in my last class. I hate that I am a freshmen. I hate that I didn’t sit next to this girl at lunch. I hate my bad breath. I hate that I am unattractive.

I hate that I hate so much.
I hate my sweaty hands. I hate my flat bangs. I hate my ugly hair. I hate my aching back. I hate missing middle school. I hate that this year doesn’t go by quicker. I hate that last year was better. I hate that last summer kind of sucked. I hate that I’m unhappy. I love that you read this.
I like your rant. I cannot imagine any hell worse than being your age again… If you liked it, there would have to be something seriously wrong with you.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Ritual Cat

猫に学んだ大切な・・・ : 動物 ペット 写真 あにまる。|ウーマンエキサイト ライフスタイル あにまる。

When the spiritual teacher and his disciples began their evening meditation, the cat who lived in the monastery made such noise that it distracted them. So the teacher ordered that the cat be tied up during the evening practice. Years later, when the teacher died, the cat continued to be tied up during the meditation session. And when the cat eventually died, another cat was brought to the monastery and tied up. Centuries later, learned descendants of the spiritual teacher wrote scholarly treatises about the religious significance of tying up a cat for meditation practice.

Hmmm, once my batteries recharge I’ll have to take a photo of my insane cat but she looks nothing like this.

This mst be a Rinzai puzzle.
In other news, Candide seem to be on the front page of a Wikipedia - yet another depressing book that ruined me as a kid.

The work describes the abrupt cessation of this existence, followed by Candide's slow, painful disillusionment as he witnesses and experiences great hardships in the world. Voltaire concludes with Candide, if not outright rejecting optimism, advocating an enigmatic precept, "we must cultivate our garden", in lieu of the Leibnizian mantra of Pangloss, "all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds".

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

The Hoff FYD find

What I love most about The Internet Traditions is some old meme can reappear and leave you laughing all day.

Friday, August 14, 2009

Happy Fishnet Friday!

~~~Breaking News Update for Kitty and Edgar: Bonnie and Clyde...~~~

Here's the noisy French hipster version:

I haven't forgotten to wish you a
Happy Fishnet Friday!

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Favorite Finds of the Moment

Bison Skulls, ca. Mid-1870s ****:THE SLAUGHTER OF THE BISON The extermination of the bison was inevitable. The plains and prairies that supported those roaming herds of huge beasts are now dotted with cities and towns, crossed by a network of railroads and highways, plowed to produce vast acreages of wheat, corn, cotton and other crops, or fenced and grazed by millions of cattle and sheep. We should be ashamed of the cruel senseless waste when they were slaughtered and left to rot but the cold fact is that the buffalo were doomed by civilization. Until we came, the Indian was still living in the Stone Age. His weapons were primitive, his needs were simple, and until horses appeared — wild descendants of those left behind by the early Spanish explorers — his only domestic animal and beast of burden was the dog. At least nine tribes of Plains Indians, such as the Sioux-and Comanche, were nomads who depended almost entirely upon the buffalo, but they killed no more than what they could use — usually less. To several other tribes, like the Pawnee and Kansas, who lived in villages and grew corn, tobacco and other crops, the buffalo was less essential. That was even more true of the eastern “woodland” Indians. The typical Plains tribes attempted no agriculture and made no pottery. There culture, including their religion and mythology, was based wholly upon the bison which furnished them with food, clothing, weapons, tools, utensils and shelter. Their teepee was a conical framework of long slender poles covered with dressed buffalo hides. They used every part of the animal. Its flesh was their chief food, supplemented by berries, edible roots, and by corn obtained from other tribes. The tongue was a delicacy and the liver was eaten raw. The surplus meat was dried into “jerky” to be eaten in emergencies or pulverized and mixed with tallow, marrow and berries to make pemmican. The brains were used in preparing skins for robes, moccasins, leggings, shirts, parfleches and bags. Buffalo hides were stretched over the frames of saddles, shields, and the tub-like “bullboats” for crossing rivers. Spoons and other articles were made from the horns which, with the hoofs, also furnished glue. Small bones were used for needles and awls; larger ones for weapons; shoulder blades for hoes. Buffalo droppings or “chips ” were the principal fuel on those treeless plains. The wholesale slaughter of the bison began after the Civil War, at first for their meat — of which only the tongue, hump and hindquarters were used. During the 70’s and early 80’s, millions were killed for their hides alone, and the carcasses left to rot. As the railroads penetrated the West, they advertised cheap excursions for “sportsmen” who liked to see how many buffalo they could kill in one day. Eventually the bones, which in many areas covered the plains as far as one could see, were gathered by nesters (homesteaders), and a strange wild breed of men called “bonepickers”, shipped East, and used for fertilizer or to make charcoal for refining sugar. Then there was nothing left of the buffalo But a memory. In l900 there were only about 800 left alive.
good little pussy...

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

I'm sure this will annoy Edgar...

But we need a real solution for the health care crisis and not a bunch of BS Fox Newz rhetoric.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Buddhist Monk Mummy Suffers the Indignity of Ray-Ban Sunglasses

This is exactly why I want to be pulverized in some environmentally friendly manner upon death...

Loung Por Daeng died in 1974. He is still sitting in the original cross-legged meditation position as when he died, and his skin is very white in contrast to mummies that have been specifically embalmed where the skin usually takes on a darker tone. When his eyes fell into his head (don’t be squeamish), the monks at the temple fitted him with some sunglasses (Raybans, of course!) and he still wears the traditional orange robes of monkhood.