Archive for literary

Happy Birthday, Sam I Am!

Posted in Alphabetfiend, Books & Writing, I Heart My Love-Tribe, In Celebration of the Absurd with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 12, 2010 by alphabetfiend

Today is the 50th birthday of the Dr. Seuss classic “Green Eggs and Ham” which is undoubtedly one of the most amazing literary masterpieces of all time. Seuss wrote the genius gem after his publisher bet him that he couldn’t write a book using only 50 words. A fine 5o words they are!

Dr. Seuss was a true poet and a gentleman of letters. He was a master of surrealism and a great hero of mine. 

I could not, would not, in a house.
I would not, could not, with a mouse.
I would not eat them with a fox.
I would not eat them in a box.
I would not eat them here or there.
I would not eat them anywhere.
I would not eat green eggs and ham.
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

I’ll be celebrating the book’s birthday by introducing it to my niece — Thing 2 — for the first time! She’s nearly 2 and it’s high time she fell in love with Seuss. I’m sure we’ll read it about 50 times.

50 words, 50 times, 50 years.

Maybe I’ll be a real go-getter and whip up a batch of green-egg cookies … mine will be like these:

Rather than like these fancy-schmancy hams. Hey, I’m not that ambitious!

I gotta save my energy for repeated animated readings. My niece refuses to let others read to her, claiming they don’t do it right. Naturally this is an enormous source of pride for this book-worm Aunty.

Enjoy this book’s birthday, y’all! Maybe a ham & spinach omelet for dinner??

Green Eggs and Ham is available on amazon!

Alpha the Fiend

Posted in Alphabetfiend, Books & Writing, Style & Fashion, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 9, 2010 by alphabetfiend

I’ve been too busy actually celebrating my birthday to post my fastasy gifts for the Cream Scene Carnival alter-egos. Alas, I’m still in the mood to play so I’m gonna keep posting these suckers ’til I’m done, here and there so as not to bore my kinksters to death. But stay with me, kids, cause where gonna ask the question: Can dresses & dictionaries be sexy? Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. You’ll see.

How to spoil an Alphabetfiend? With books, of course!!

Did you know a dictionary could be sexy? Alpha did! Alpha’s been lusting after these glamorous dictionaries for some time now. They’re pricey but bound in colorful or metallic leathers. The silver dictionary (with Alphabetfiend monogram) is gonna look gorgeous on the fiend’s bedside table, close at hand and crossword ready. (Available at ballard designs for the SmartyPants in your life.)  

What is Alphabet a fiend for?

Just look to your keyboard for inspiration!

I know! Sweet little post earrings made from vintage typewriter keys! The perfect way to woo an Alphabetfiend. (Tab Typewriter Key Jewelry)

Alphabetfiend is the queen of the ampersand-riddled run-on sentence cause her mind moves fast and she always has more & more & more to say… which makes this ampersand brooch a fitting gift. (Another Empire)

How ’bout these socks by Ken Macy that celebrate the old-school joys of writing… cracking open a composition book and inhaling the smell of glue from the binding mmmm…. a stack of pure clean paper that is begging for ink… a fistful of just-sharpened pencils.

Evokes the giddy excitement like from a fresh stack of notebook paper...mmm

 Who doesn’t love snail-mail? Alpha loves loves loves snail-mail. Alpha still buys stamps. Alpha still writes love letters and valentines. Not just to lovers either (though an Alpha lover is a lucky fucker.) This air-mail envelope is actually a purse by Paper Plane.

Typewriter earrings, envelope clutch & ampersand brooch — witty accessories for the smart-dressed girl that could be worn with either of these dresses by Maeve (available at Anthropology.)

To those of you who are yawning, thinking “Clothes? Again? Is there anything more boring?” I must say, “Yes, there are many things more boring than my aesthetic fantasies.” Still, if you’re feeling antsy, then go ahead and imagine these dresses in compromising positions. You may include, in your lurid visions, the literary crush of your choice. Strip these dresses from her fluttery body all lit-up by the library’s milk-glass lamp-light. Let your hand creep past that creamy hem, past black lacy garters and up and up and she opens like a book, being the bookish sort. Maybe you prefer the red shirt-dress, a-blossom with a smattering of wild roses. You bend her over your poem-strewn desk and you smack her bare bottom. More. More. When her ass is as rosy as her dress you take her from behind and frock the frocking fuck right outta her.

You may defile these dresses in all manner of nasty ways but you MAY NOT piss all over them and make her wear the piss-soaked dress to a truck stop because neither of these dresses are THAT dress. If you are curious about that dress or if you still don’t see how dresses can be sexy than check out this pervy post by “A Funny Dominatrix” but NOT NOW, NOT YET, not until I say…. oooooookay…. GO.

Goof speed, kinksters.

Happy Birthday, Alphabetfiend. Good night. Sweet dreams.

A Ghost (in the machine) Story

Posted in Art & Culture, Books & Writing, I Heart Tricksters, Intuition & Gut Intelligence, Mythos, Psyche & Sexuality, Romance, SPOOKY KABUKI with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 25, 2008 by alphabetfiend

“Sarah Wolfe is about to fall backwards. The thick walls that seperate the past from the present are crumbling, but she doesn’t know it yet.”– Nick Bantock

While plotting out a properly eerie week of SPOOKY KABUKI, it was always my intention to follow up the steampunk post with a GHOST (in the machine) STORY. But I’m all the hungrier for The Venetian’s Wife  after a recent jolt of Indian myth in the movie “Sita Sings the Blues.”  The Venetian’s Wife is one of many disturbingly beautiful books by Nick Bantock. Bantock specializes in mythic image-laden visions, crossed connections and mysterious correspondence. Bantock is the bastard child of the trickster god Eshu who has haunted the machines of man for as long as we’ve been trying to communicate through wires.

The Venetian’s Wife is about communication, connection, art and Hindu spirituality. It’s about the past & the present. It’s about a spiritual and sexual awakening. It’s a lush soulful story that makes your cells hum. It’s a romance, a travelogue, a voyeuristic peek into the communications between the living and the dead. But mostly it’s a ghost story.

Ghost is a very broad term and although I have met no others of my ilk, I am assuming that is what I am.

This is no joke. I am deadly serious. After I was struck down by lightning back in 1469, I found myself drifting aimlessly without a real comprehension of time. I was neither in nor out of the physical world; I had no memory, only a vague consciousness that took succor from any source of electricity I came across. One day I encountered a new conductor and became hypnotized by the vibrating electrical pulses. I tried to get closer to the charge — I pressed myself toward the heart of the glow, and, without warning, I became saturated with light. My memory returned.

This beauty is a feast for that third eye and an oddly perfect October read. Published in 1996, The Venetian’s Wife is worth a (re)visitation. Pull it down from the shelf and blow the dust off the spine. Borrow it from the library. Hunt it down at Amazon. Enjoy!

Bantock is a beasty of mystery.
Bantock is a beasty of mystery.

Check back all week for more SPOOKY KABUKI. There’s more tricks and more treats to come.

Slowly Becoming a Fang of HBO’s “True Blood”

Posted in Art & Culture, Feminism (Shades of Gray), Psyche & Sexuality, Style & Fashion, TV with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 6, 2008 by alphabetfiend

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I know this much is true:
I wanna do bad things with you. I wanna do real bad things with you.”
  — Jace Everett’s “Bad Things” is the True Blood theme song.

I wasn’t loving True Blood, as I’ve said. The vampires aren’t sexy. They’re pasty, bald, downright nasty. Their teeth extend in a penile way that’s stomach-churning. There’s this possessive rape-ish energy like in a high school romance. That’s not a good thing. If you think it is then you’re probably still in high school. Poor baby. Turn off that cell phone, spend time with friends, get real.  True Blood’s creator, Alan Ball, is bloody brilliant so I could practically taste the clever insanity. As fresh as a virgin’s plasma. Literary, intellectual, imaginative. If you’ve been around for 400 years, I would think you’d be smarter than the average redneck. I would imagine you’d have a weighty presence and an unsettling charisma. I don’t have a vampire fetish so it’s not enough that they have fangs and drink blood, big deal. I want my vampires to have something more, something extra. Beyond their raging unbearable hard-ons.

I think I just threw up a little.

I think I just threw up a little.

Maybe if the hero (not pictured above) were more like Vincent from TV’s Beauty & The Beast. Now there was a mythical creature that was, well, mythic.  And creaturely. The Beast took up space, his presence was palpable. Beast’s underground NYC home was crowded with books, easels, paints & other talismans. Vincent was sexy as a sulking, skulking Lion-Man. A gentle freak with depth of heart and psyche. I loved the Beast (and always knew that when I was a grown-up beauty the Beast would love me too.)  The show aired on CBS in the 80’s. It starred Linda Hamilton as Beauty & Ron Perlman as Beast. Ron Perlman has recently returned to weekly TV as the sociopath patriarch of a SoCal biker gang  on FX’s “Sons of Anarchy.”*  Once a beast, now a BEAST.  Perlman is great as Hamlet’s despot Step-Pop & mortorcycle madman. Too great. It’s hard; I hurt.  Perlman will always be my wise and loving Beastie. I want to scream at the TV “You Scum-Bag A-Hole, what have you done with Vincent?”

Vincent was a dreamy character who had a profoud effect on me. I haven’t seen the show since I was a little girl but I still make romantic choices based on beasty-ness. People who know me are now ticking back through my history, all the way back to that high school romance, and going yep yep yep. I’ve loved one magical beastie boy after another.

As a kid, I watched B & B; as a woman, I love a Beastie.

As a kid, I watched B & B; as a woman, I love a Beastie.

True Blood could’ve been the new cable version of Beauty & the Beast. Gorgeous, with a wicked taboo tickle and a hero so smart that he can like lick your brain.  Or make you tremble with just his juiced-up brain waves.  (It’s true, I’ve met a man like that. I don’t call him RobotBoyLoverMan for nothin!) I’m talking so smart, it’s torture.  With a dandy’s style and a philosopher’s smile. A cross between Oscar Wilde and Bukowski. Jesse James meets William James. Yum yum. This here nugget offers just a nibble of hope when, two minutes in, there is 60 beautiful seconds that evoke the early moments in a new flirtation and hint at an older intellect.

OK, yea, that was pretty delish. His smile after she says “I’m serious” and he says “As am I,” well, for a second I looked past the bad acting and the pasty pastiche. And Puns! Vampires love puns? Hmmm. I did not know that. Maybe I’m a vampire. I do love velvet (paired with black satin cigarette pants & beaded platforms) and I have been known to take the occasional love bite. Except not so occasional and not so loving. Mortals often admire my moonglow skin and fawn over my pitch black ringlets. They gush over my “old soul” and want to raid my closet. But like the stupid short-lives they are, they poo-poo my puns.

  • Fangtasia?”
  • “You have to remember that most Vampires are very old. Puns used to be the highest form of humor.”

Not only is Fangtasia a fangtastic name for a vampire bar but it was a great change of scenery for characters and viewers both. The visit made for vibrant visuals and the go-go dancing vamps had moves that mere mortals couldn’t bust.

  • “This one, she wanted to die. Everyone who comes here does, in their own way. That’s what we are. Death.”

When they’re running out of the bar to escape the cops and John whisks Sookie into his arms, yea, that was kinda cool. As a feminist, I’m loathe to admit it; but as a dorky romantic who once was held rapt by TV’s Beauty & the Beast, who crushed on brave lion-browed Vincent, ah, my heart skipped a beat. Goof help me. True Blood’s bloodsucker may seduce me yet. 

  • “This feels a little like what a vampire bar would be like if it were a ride at Disney World.”
  • “Well don’t get too comfortable. It tends to get more authentic as the night wears on.”

Maybe True Blood is Fangtasia. Maybe if we hang in there it will get more entertaining. Maybe the hero will read a few (thousand) books and bulk up his vocab. Maybe the actor who plays him (Stephen Moyer) will sharpen his acting chops. In order for “True Blood” to satisfy, I need a hero who makes me heady and flushed. Hell, he arouses Anna Paquin’s Sookie so much that she masturbates on his porch and all I want is some fangscination. Make me wanna suck blood. Fill me with craving.

Alphabetfiend is Dia VanGunten — Poetess & vampire punster living in the deep south (west). Working on a review of Ron Perlman’s new FX show “Sons of Anarchy” so be on the look out.

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