Toshiya

I feel tired and frustrated today.

Perhaps it is related to what I did last night on another level.

If the information I got is correct, what’s happening is beyond my scope and understanding. And I have the feeling my information is correct. It’s karma of some thousands of years old. It’s hardcore stuff. Then again, I am the hardcore girl. I am not the kind of person who ever has it easy. I sometimes enjoy the challenge. More often than not, however, especially in the last years, I wish I had it easy.

I spent a considerable amount of time downloading photos of Toshiya, my personal favourite from Dir en Grey. He’s a surprisingly sexy Japanese male who looks gorgeous in drag and very attractive in ordinary clothes with his bass and badass rock star attire. Lately he has taken a shine to cross-dressing again, even though the rest of the band members prefer jeans, t-shirts and shirts. Their cross-dressing days are far in the past and yet pretty Toshiya once more wears skirts and dresses, minus the make-up. Now, if you ask me, I think he looks gorgeous in dresses and skirts and he should keep on doing it. I have never been the traditional kind of woman who likes her men masculine, hairy and uncompromised. Then again, beautiful Toshiya is probably doing it because the female fans love it so much. I enjoy the visual result since the actual person is about as far beyond my reach as the moon; something everyone can see and admire, but cannot touch or possess on a personal level. I often wonder how gullible I must be in order to think that a member of a world famous band could possibly do things because they want to, and not because it’s a management order or a technique to acquire more fans. Then I tell myself not to be harsh on myself and not bother with particulars that don’t matter and just enjoy. The self-inflicted head bashing must stop.

I would love to meet this man. Really love to. If he is as sexy as in the photos, I wouldn’t want to just tumble him, but eat his flesh for breakfast, dinner and supper. But photos are often deceiving, and there are a million other things that get in the way, so I just waste my time looking at photos. It’s undoubtedly a pleasant way of killing time, but I nonetheless feel I’m wasting my time.

How much time can you fit in the palm of your hand?

Beautifully mad.

It's pretty much useless.

He is not Nuare and I don't have thigh high boots yet, to trample him underfoot.

Still the thought persists.

It's them again, pestering me. Damn Japanese. Always pestering me. I swear I was only making labels. Not looking for trouble.

*Sigh*

And he is beautifully mad too. Isn't it a shame he is so far away?

[Both photos: Kamijo, singer of Japanese rock group Versailles.]

Even I don't know what my problem is.

[Both upper photos: Toshiya, the bassist of Dir en Grey.]

It's past surrealism and right into the realm of Nonsense.

It's past eleven and close to midnight.

Ahem, ahem.

Ladies and gentlemen. Κυρίες και κύριοι.

I have officially lost it.

It's always the photos that do this.

I am not annoying anyone and those goddamn photos come and disturb me.

Can someone tell to Gackt, this bloody idiot here, just above the text, that he's Japanese, so he's not supposed to look like this body-wise? Thank you.

I think I soaked my knickers.

And can another person tall to that idiot bassist of Dir en Grey that he's not supposed to look BOTH like a truly enchanting woman and like a drop dead gorgeous guy just by changing clothes and adding make up? Again thank you.

I am going home to lament for the fact Toshiya looks like this (picture just below) and he's living in Japan. I have had enough of this!!! I think I am truly going for a sex change this time. Long live my mustache. Do not try to find me.

Vampire Hunter D

I am presently reading the Vampire Hunter D series of books. I have five of them.

I am pissed off with the series.

When I read the first book I had been left speechless. The book combined hack and slash with a fantastic setting in the far off future. There are spaceships and laser cannons and at the same time people travel on horseback and fight with vampires and werewolves. There is a very interesting basic character, D, who sports outrageously good looks and is about as involved with other humans as the moon is involved with your average bus. He merely shines his grace on them. And that's about it. Now, having the kind of father I had and all the lovely traumas and confused childhood years I had, it was inevitable that I would be immediately smitten with D and would want to read about him. And the first book was very good. But then I read the second, and the third, and then the sixth and tenth. And in the tenth book the basic character is still as evolved as it was in the first. He never mingles with humans. Never uses the bathroom. Never masturbates or fucks or shows even a glimpse of interest in anything else than "flying like a mystical bird through the air" and slashing everything around him in bloody confetti.

And I got really annoyed and bored with the series.

In my stories I have Nuare. Nuare is similar to D in some ways. But he fucks. In fact he would have fucked just about anything that caught his fancy. Even a wooden table with three legs and a vase with flowers on it. I swear. He cannot fuck anything he wants but when he does fuck there is enough detail in there to make the reader sidestep to avoid a flying ribbon of spank that is coming through the page and seems to be aiming at their eye. (I swear this is accidental, by the way.) It just happens that any realistic character will have some sort of sexual life at some point if it is a humanoid being. Right? And if not sexual life he will have friends. Some kind of emotional involvement with SOMEONE, for the sake of fuck.

But no. D "flies like a mystical bird through the air". Of course. How stupid of me. That should be enough.

Give me five years. That's all I am asking for. And they will all eat my dust. That, or I'll find a way to slip half a dozen viagra in D's goblet of wine and make him show me his other bird. Not the mystical. The one hidden inside his trousers.

"And there was much rejoice".

Monty Python

Angels, devils and guitar players.

It is time.

The time of frosted moon and de-frosted Asian buttocks.

I shall be merciless.

I shall chase them like a mad dog to the gates of hell and even further. Into police stations, into libraries, into churches. It is the time of ultimate doom.

Ovulation has kicked in.

I need Asian boys all wrapped up in ribbons and fake fur.

First of all, Uruha. I shall tie him up and throw him in the oven and roast him. And eat him beginning with his little ass.

YES! YOU! YOUR ASS! ASS! BRING ME THE ASS OF URUHA on a silver platter, well roasted and topped with mustard! Onions and potatoes will mark his passage! And leave me to it! ~AAAAAASSSS! That will teach you to shake your hips in videos in such a slutty, despicable, unacceptable manner! ASSSS! ASSSSS!!! Your ass will be GRASSSS!!!

Then Gackt will be the one to suffer. I shall wear my armor and go find him in his fortress. He shall hear me approach, me and my minions of evil, and he shall know me by my evil boots of DOOM. Thigh high platforms that imitate the sound "DOOM" while I march to war. "Doom, doom, doom". Like a frost giant wearing two anvils instead of shoes, walking half-heartedly to his own wedding. The kind of sound that makes the ground shake and the fillings in your teeth vibrate. And behind me, millions of my evil man-eating gothic smurfs chattering away like demonic locusts. All white, with black gothic clothes and tiny very sharp teeth. We shall prevail!

[Gackt, as soon as he heard the news of me approaching, is trying to disguise himself and flee. NO such luck you bastard! Your penis will decorate my hall of trophies tonight!!!]

Then Hyde must fall victim to the power of my ovulation. He will try to escape, try to run and hide, all in vain! VIOLATION! Random violence and undiluted pain in my hands! Tied up and covered in marmalade and me shaving him with a chainsaw while one gazillion ants run all over him, tickling him to death! His defeat and humiliation will be unparalleled, an example to every other Japanese rock star thinking he's more feminine than I am, and prettier as well! BASTARDS! BASTARDS! Why do you have to live in Japan from all places? I need 2000 euro to come there and give you a piece of my mind! I shall take Japan by force and have it under martial law! You will be forced to walk around dressed like ugly transvestites for the rest of your miserable lives!

[Hyde under my martial law, mocking my authority. Take him inside and WHIP him till he bleeds, the bastard!]

And then...

What?

(Someone from behind a curtain speaks to me in a low voice.)

Oh.

I see.

I was just informed that a specific someone brought me gifts in order to reconsider.

Hmmm. Bananas. I love bananas. Come here sweet Uruha boy. I hope you know where these are going.

[Cries of panic echo in the courtyard. A door slams. Then silence.]

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Crash test

Okay, this post will not make much sense to anyone not involved with Japanese rock music. Then again, I want to make my friend K. laugh because she's a true blessing in my life, and she has made me laugh at times I needed it more than dear breath. There you go girl, this one's for you.

SEX CRASH TEST!

Between two major J-rock musicians: Gackt (Gakuto) Camui (musician, performer and singer) and Kyo Nishimura (Niimura), singer of the cult band Dir en Grey.

Gackt: tall, (1.80?) slender but beautifully worked out, lovely smile with blinding white teeth, the androgynous beauty of an angel, mid thirties to late thirties, quite the charmer and the playboy. He is too good not to be vain, conceited and self-involved to the wrong degree. You know, the "for fuck's sake get the fuck out of the bathroom, I need to pee, there are mirrors in other rooms of the house too goddammit!" type.

Kyo: too short, (1.60?) very slender, full of tattoos, a tiny man of solid muscle, yellow teeth that look like a traffic jam after an accident, rather ugly to downright grotesque, early thirties, oddly quiet and polite. The type of quiet and polite that makes you wonder if he's got a closet full of mummified fans hidden somewhere in his house.

Why fuck them?

Gackt: because he's too good to be true, the bastard. Criminally pretty. And grows old beautifully as well.

Kyo: because on stage he behaves like an epileptic orc during a psychotic episode, even to the point of self-mutilation. If he is the same in bed, he's gonna be the fuck of a lifetime.

What would they think if they saw me in a crowded room?

Gackt: Hmmmm... She's too tall (note:I am 1.78m), taller than I (in high heels). How dare she be taller? *annoyed* And she's got tattoos on her arms. Yuck. Such bad taste! How unfeminine! And bags under her eyes as well! Hasn't she heard of concealer? Plus she's not even blond! And she's got boring brown eyes! But I haven't fucked non-Japanese pussy in quite some time, so perhaps I will devote SOME of my PRECIOUS time to her, but only a little.

Kyo: wow, that woman is TALL. (His eyes inevitably fall on my cleavage, due to them being at that exact height.) Er. *Blushes* But why is she staring at me? (Starts looking left and right, certain I am not looking at him.) Perhaps she is looking for the ladies' room?

Romantic courting:

Gackt: Women are such sensitive creatures. (Pours more wine in your glass, to make sure this sensitive creature in particular will be too tipsy to say no.) They bring true joy to my life. (Read between the lines: especially those 90-60-90 types, born mute and perpetually hungry for my divine penis.) Sometimes the loneliness gets me down. (Translation: I haven't scored in two weeks. I need to get laid to satisfy my manly urges and desires. You, lucky girl, you.) I wonder if I will ever find the one I am looking for. (Translation: you could be this one, you luckiest woman on the planet.) Then he smiles a kittenish smile while 'accidentally' touching skin, and you really want to smack his face because he's such a douchebag, especially those perfect teeth are begging for your knuckles, but the lower part of your body has a very different opinion on the whole matter.

Kyo: (Looks at you mystified, then points at a random direction with a barely audible polite whisper:) That way. (Meaning "to the ladies' room".)

Line to make them fall for you:

Gackt: No line. He likes his women mute anyway. Just IGNORE the bastard, ignore him with all your might and fury.

Kyo: ??? Perhaps using a baseball bat would be more effective than any line I can presently think of.

SEXUAL ARENA

Size matters:

Gackt: I'll be damned if I know. Then again, he's Japanese, so what the hell do you expect down there, the Tokyo Tower?

Kyo: He's tiny. I surely hope he's not tiny everywhere. I think in his case you are in for a surprise. Now, whether this will be a pleasant or nasty surprise, we can all pray to the Phallus god. And buy a strap-on just to be on the safe side.

About giving you oral:

Gackt: *twitches his -plastic surgery- perfect nose in serious distaste.* Do what? Yes, I suppose I could do that, being an exceptional lover and all that, but why don't we try this other thing first? (My perfect face is NOT meant to be between the legs of ANY woman, you deluded moron! It is meant to be worshiped, photographed and depicted on magazines worldwide. JUST WHO do you think you are???)

Kyo: You don't ask him to give you oral. In fact, you don't speak at all. You just grab him by the hair and direct his head between your legs. Once down there, I have this very strong suspicion he knows very well what to do.

About you giving them oral:

Gackt: But of course. It took you some time, but you finally understood your purpose in life. That's the only fitting place for a woman anyway. In the bedroom, after she has satisfied all my manly desires. In the kitchen, while at the same time cooking a heavenly meal for me. In the living room, while I am sitting comfortably in my designer couch and she has just vacuumed. In the recording room, while I am writing yet another romantic song and need gentle inspiration. I think I will compose a new song now and perhaps even include you in my thanks section of my latest album.

Kyo: *blushes tomato red*

On scratches and bites:

Gackt: OW! Are you CRAZY? (He jumps out of bed and runs to the bedroom mirror, strategically placed somewhere near bed to be able to watch himself while fucking you.) You scratched my face(/back/arm/leg)!!! My beautiful face(/back/arm/leg)!!! I have a photo shooting in two days and this CAN'T be covered by make-up! Argh!!! (Don't be very surprised if he slaps you at that point and then ties you up, to make sure you won't be able to scratch him a second time.)

Kyo: OW! That felt GOOD! (Then he either reverts to epileptic orc mode and starts fucking you as if there is no tomorrow, or he gets confused, thinks he is on stage and starts singing. Good luck with that.)

AFTER SEX

Gackt: Was it as good for you as it was for me? Of course. How could it not be? I am the perfect lover. Tomorrow I will make breakfast and bring it to bed, BLAH ME BLAH ME BLAH ME BLAH ME BLAH ME... ME ME ME ME ME ME, BLAH DE BLAH... (Just pretend you are asleep. It will save you.)

Kyo: Sleeps like a dead man, probably curled, snoring lightly and drooling on your pillow.

LINES YOU CAN SAY TO...

...make them marry you:

To Gackt: No lines. Zip it for the rest of your life. And read this blog entry from the beginning. Are you sure you want that? Now, I don't think you've been paying attention!

To Kyo: You know, I can scratch, slap and bite you like that EVERY time. Plus I love little fluffy animals. (There are pictures of Kyo nearly shitting himself with joy while petting doggies, cats, rabbits and the like.)

...make them run for dear life and never look back:

To Gackt: I think I am pregnant.

To Kyo: You know, I LOVE torturing and killing little fluffy animals. And hey, actually you look like one. Why don't you get some sleep now? You must be tired.

... make them dump you and possibly execute all your relatives as well:

To Gackt: Kyo from Dir en Grey does it better. Plus he's got a bigger dick than yours.

To Kyo: I have been cheating on you with Toshiya (another member of Dir en Grey) since the beginning of our relationship.

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eYE cANdy

Today I feel artistic.

Truly artistic!

All is violent, all is bright

The title is from a great God is an Astronaut album.

The mood is the following:

I am tired of existing in other people's heads and lives because of the thing I do for them, or give to them.

I want my existence to fulfill my own needs and desires from now on.

I want to leave a legacy of creation. Kindness alone is not enough. Wisdom and understanding don't fit the bill either. I want to be alive to fulfill my own being, but not through servitude to others anymore. I want to fulfill my own need to be served. I want to spoil myself, not by buying things to myself, but by quality time. Time from myself to myself only.

If I was to die tomorrow, what would be my legacy? The memory in other people's heads? Their kind words?

I do not want this. As I have said before, when my ashes will be traveling the planet, other people's opinions will not matter in the least. I crave creation. And I will turn the earth upside down if it needs must. I will enforce my will on reality if it needs must. Not enforce, but kick all obstacles aside, shove all those people out of the way. Out of my fucking way- you think I do not know who you are? You think I am not aware of the fact my weakness offers you flesh to secure your hooks on? Of your idiotic juvenile mind games? Well this is already changing- best to subtract your hooks or you'll be dragged and thrown with me into the volcano I am about to jump. Trust me, you can't take the heat. You don't have what it takes. If you did, you would be human beings, not poison ivy, crawling all over me. The tree you are riding is about to start walking before it turns into a pillar of light and fire. You have been forewarned- let go or you'll be singed.

I know this doesn't make much sense. It is okay. Just one last thing. I am not nice because I don't know any better. Being gentle is a conscious choice on my behalf- and one that can change at any given moment. Some people have already tasted that in an excruciatingly painful way. Don't add yourself to the list. Thank you.

PS I bought some gorgeous new books with the object of my latest desires, Gackt. I cannot resist but place a photo here- it is always soothing to look at something serene after the storm. If I was a vampire I would feed on beauty only... and if anyone feels like saying the "gay" word I strongly advise them to insert a few fingers up their own anus, in order to get some idea of what they are missing. I can always tell them how via e-mail, and I am sure they will grow to appreciate it.

Androgynous men...

Photo by http://blueblack.deviantart.com

A little irrelevant comment.

I wonder what is it that makes me so crazy about feminine men, men with make-up, androgynous creatures, men who are in reality women (have two of them in my stories and I mean it literary, not cross-dressing) and gay men in general. Perhaps it is my gender confusion. Heheheh, in a recent test I took I got 36 points in how male my brain is, while the average for women is 24 and for men 30. Hahaha! Anyway, tests don’t prove anything at all, so back to my point. I am crazy about such creatures, (especially of the gothic type) though I fully know I will never have one such myself. Perhaps it is the crush I had on Darryl, that beautiful Scottish goth eons ago, when I was in UK studying? It was never really fulfilled, but it seems that it was just a symptom, not the source of trouble itself. Perhaps my androgynous soul instinctively looks for men who are aware of their feminine side and not afraid to embrace it? (even though it seems that the only thing the men in question embrace is fashion and their countless insecurities…) Perhaps I am a victim/slave to beauty and this will never change? Funny thing being, I am fully aware of how empty these boys/ men are in reality, how incapable of holding a decent conversation, how childish, high school-type-of-mentality this reflects about me, but cannot get rid of it. I don’t think I ever in my life will. I mean, look at me, I am past twenty-nine and on the way to thirty, and still dream of androgynous angels and goths. How sad is this? I do not mean that I should at this age dream of doctors and lawyers (God/dess forbid that I ever fall for such mainstream, slave-to-the-system “ideal husbands”), but since I fucking KNOW what the deal is with goths, why not get over it? I’ll be damned if I know. You tell me. At least I now am wise enough to realise that the outside is just a beautiful wrapping with no content. If there was something inside, they would not be goths to begin with. 

You got confused? Lemme help. Someone who dresses as a goth, or metal fan, or anything, shows nothing but the need to belong somewhere in order to be safe. I belong absolutely nowhere and am very happy about that. I revel in my lack of definition style-wise, religion-wise, mentality-wise. Anybody who tries to classify me is in for endless trouble. I do cheap, mushy, kitsch, pink/fluffy, classical, solemn, gothic, macabre, high aesthetic, surreal, even hippy, goddammit. I do anything and everything. “I am a chameleon of sorts”. I do a mix and match of things. I am. I am NOT a goth, an 80s fan, a lady of the castle, a girl in a kiosk, a mad erotica author, an absolute failure according to the standards of society, the next step in human evolution, a misanthrope, a communication expert, a heretical prankless Erisian, a perfect atheist, a reader of soppy romance or a fantasy geek. I am all of them together. It is a matter of dosage. I do lawyers and doctors too. I just don’t fall for them, if you know what I mean. And it’s okay if you don’t.

System of a Down: “Hypnotize”

Uncalled for

By the way, I am totally in love with Olivier Theyskens, ex designer of Rochas. NOT the fashion bullshit surrounding him (though some of his creations are magnificent) but the man. He looks so feminine and sensitive and sweet. I want to smother him; he just inspires me to. Death and love always walk hand in hand; death reminds us of the need to reproduce... (Evil little cackle). I can be so fucking predictable.