Showing posts with label J-rock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label J-rock. Show all posts

Thursday, December 01, 2011


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?

Monday, November 21, 2011

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.
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.]

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Sing us all a merry song

I am back. Although I haven't the slightest why. :-)

English not first language leads to all kind of interesting and hilarious mistakes when writing stories.

"He wanted to get to know every crook and nanny of her body."

NEWS FLASH: the present incarnation has trouble accepting her place in the world and this reality.

Okay, let's discuss this. Where would you rather be?

Let's not. I'll be too graphic and I don't wanna. There's people watching us. But Dir en Grey have a new and very pretty song out.

How can anyone call a Dir en Grey song pretty?

I can and even shooting me cannot make me change my phrasing. You need to lure me with Asian Skinny Buttocks to change it.

What the hell is Skinny Buttocks? A snack bar for those on a diet?

Nope, a snack for those who haven't had any in the longest time.

Haven't had what? Skinny buttocks? Your buttocks are far from skinny. They look like a, hmmm, peach?

Yeah. Do you see any hands on the aforesaid peach?

Gods forbid! What are you, an alien?

No, you idiot, not GROWING OUT OF MY BUTTOCKS, fondling them, groping them, something along these lines.

Mmm. No.

See what I mean?

Not really but I am getting confused here. Would you like to explain that bit about where you'd like to be instead? There is no progress concerning the buttocks thingy.

Hmmmmm. Right you are. Good question. Let's listen to some Gazette because they have two TRULY fantastic songs in their latest album. Let's embed one as well. Hmmm. Make that two. Can I choose any place and time I want?

I suppose so. I mean, we are just talking, no harm in asking for anything you please.

Yeah. And I have always been of the opinion that if you are going to sin, sin boldly. So yes. I would like to be back where I was. Before the fall. Before everything started being such a pain in the ass. Back "home".

Um. That's not really an option, you know.

Oh yes, trust me, I know. Even if I kill myself, I cannot go back there. And besides, I have never been the quitting type.

I'll second that. Any other options?

I'll pick the pretty boy with the wavy black hair. The one that looks like you know who.

Yes. So what about him?

He's a dashing creature, isn't he? I swear I could lick sexiness out of his skin, emitted together with his smell.

So what would you like to do with him?

Can I choose any time I please? Hmmm? Can I? Can I?

Yep, go on.

Then I choose the time before we get to know each other, that we are still landscapes waiting to be discovered. The time he'll be keeping his mouth shut for fear he'll insult me and make me go away. When he'll be genuinely hungry for me and each touch will be as honest and full of longing as breath itself.

Nice choice. But why that?

Just because. Because I know it doesn't last. It is replaced by habit, familiarity and contempt.

But there is also tenderness and understanding and kindness there, when time passes. There is genuine knowledge of the other person instead of loving a fantasy or a projection.

Hahaha. You are hilarious sometimes, aren't you? There is never actual knowledge of any person. We just touch something with our hands, keeping our eyes shut, and we describe what we think it is.

Do we?

Of course we do. And since he'll only see what he wants to see anyway, I might as well do the same. And believe it. That's the trick to happiness in falling in love. Believing.

So do you want to fall in love? Is this what you are saying?

No. I don't think this will ever happen to me again. Not anymore. But even if it does, I have no say on the matter. It just will. *shrugs*

Don't you feel lonely?

What does this have to do with anything?

I get the feeling you are lonely.

I am lonely alright. But what's worst is my homicidal mania. All I can think about yesterday and today is about killing two particular people. It won't solve anything. Hell, even killing about two fifths of the earth's population won't change much. Since the creator decided they should exist in the first place, who am I to know better?

Indeedy. So what are you going to do?

What, now? Go home, of course. What else can I do? Go home and discuss it with Her. She is ballistic, thirsting for blood, and it does me no good to be like that.

Unless I am mistaken I don't think there is any room for discussion in such a case.

There is always room for discussion, especially in such a case. Trust me. And I have grown weary of the things I don't do because "it wouldn't be right", "my karma would go to hell in a hand basket", "I don't deserve to become like them" and so on. I see so many people hiding behind their finger every single day, thinking I don't know what they think about me and how they feel about me. Pretending they care about me. And they have it oh so easy because I don't want to be like them. I don't want to destroy, I want to create and preserve. Life will destroy anyway, why should I do it? Why should I be the one to dig their graves when they do it themselves? Living -and doing it well- is the best vengeance of all. And you know what? What really keeps me is the knowledge that even when wallowing in the darkest pits of despair I have never once given in and followed the easy path. That's my only treasure. I have nothing save for that and nobody, fucking nobody can take it from me, while they chose the easy path every single time. Every time they had to choose between their ego's petty games and between being human in the true sense of the word, they chose to be scum. And there will be a time scum will be separated from humans, and they will go where scum goes. To the dirt.

So, what's the thing you want tonight?

I told you. The essence of dreams. The time we both won't know a thing. It's that, or a very sharp knife. And that's that.

Okay then. Sleep tight...

Monday, February 14, 2011

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.

Monday, November 08, 2010


This pretty much proves my belief the human body can unfold like a flower... If we could take the time to actually not look, but SEE...

Saturday, August 28, 2010

Shopping spree

Now, I have heard of women who buy shoes as shopping therapy. I've heard of those who buy lingerie, jewelery, cosmetics, you name it, change their hair style, begin yoga lessons or go to beauty salons and let other people smear them with all kinds of gooey, sticky and icky substances.

Never heard of one buying a printer as a shopping therapy. I suppose that makes me a freak of nature? Meh. :-P

Still have not found any salons where sensible, well-developed young men give you a massage and then screw you till your eyeballs pop out. :-)

Yes, I am buying magazines with Japanese singers again. And my friend K. is downloading porn with Asian men for me. Again. God bless her (un)holy fingertips and her gift-bringing, eye-bulging, orgasm-sharing internet connection, I have nekkid Asians in my hard drive, in various stages of getting hard for my eyes only. Bless you girl. That latest Thai one was... mmmgrrr. Mew!

The problems Asian rock stars present me with are endless, and my hormones are presently cascading like a waterfall from the mount Venus. First of all, it's the glitter and the eye-liner they use. Why oh why? Why not let me draw on their skinny bodies with pieces of praline? Where is the sense in getting onstage to sing wearing only bits of fur and suspenders? Why is my rabid grace endlessly tortured with pictures of boys who barely reach my nose, all made up like a present, hairless and skinny, with ding-dongs that look like my finger? (That latest bit I choose to ignore on the grounds that, with another race, I'll never have the chance to fuck with a male someone who wears more make-up than I do and looks prettier in a skirt than I). Even worse, what in the name of Buddha was God thinking when s/he placed them at the other side of the globe? (probably their safety...)

On the happy side of nonsensical news, here is a new video by Dir En Grey. I am sure K. will appreciate watching her precious Die (the charming guitarist who resembles a hardcore Yakuza criminal) with his arms covered in what looks like infected dragon scales. I surely enjoyed it. Kyo is singing in his usual amazing style, like a man who accidentally swallowed first a smurf, than half a dozen frogs and finally a pit demon. The bassist is one of the most exquisite creatures you can hope to come across, with a neck that can make even a zealot vampire hunter develop strange urges. And the drummer... Mmmm. Pistachio.

*Mmmmm*. Busy licking imaginary neck right now. Talk to you later.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

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

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

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.


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 scene 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 1.77m), 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.


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.)


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.


...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.

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

There we go again.

Once more I find myself accidentally linked with someone and giving them a reiki therapy without ever intending to do so. This is the third time this is happening to me with this person. I think he should place an aetheric block around himself from now on, to avoid me spamming him with therapies. Ha-ha. They are worse than uninvited farts, these therapies. Always coming out of the blue and manifesting in a very inconvenient manner. You just get them whether you want them or not.

On a more realistic note, I am trying to discover if it is me attracting all this shitty mood and the feeling of imprisonment to myself, in order to first understand WHY and then stop it.

On a humorous tone, I think Buddha should be watching his back from now on because I am dangerously close to enlightenment. Can you possibly beat the flaky Greek oh Buddha? Do you have what it takes?

Sure, Buddha said. My tummy is bigger than yours and I laugh all the time. Beat this! Ha! Eat my dust!

Damn. You win! But heed my words: perhaps I need to dye myself blue and walk around in a loincloth, but this shall not pass!

I will soon be the proud owner of the entire Dir en Grey discography. If any of you have seen the videos I have embedded on my blog, you probably think they are a rather mild and melodic band. I thought so too, until I saw those videos in you tube that, ahem. You do know how disgusting and wrong Marilyn Manson can get, right? Well take the grotesque factor of MM and multiply it by three, then add plenty of disgust points because they are Japanese (and we all know how disgusting and wrong they can be, I suppose?). It is a full scale visual attack accompanied by blood curling screeches by the singer who does his best to look like a grotesque pixie covered in self inflicted scratches. What's worse, those screams are interchanged with vocals of breathtaking sweetness and feeling, while a teenager kills his father with a golf club, fiddles with the fingers and other body parts of his dead mother slumped on the dinner table, and cockroaches walk around. In the second video the singer vomits with his face half covered by torn black stockings, band members play between hanged corpses, geisha demon women with black teeth covered in a sticky substance vomit blood and please each other, one guitarist pulls his heart out and starts chewing on it and other such visual treats or horrors, depending on someone's point of view, take place.

Damn! They are cooler than Yeti, Buddha said. You have to dig this shit.

That's exactly my sentiments oh Enlightened one. Hence buying their discography.

Anyone who wants to watch those two videos should use these links:

Just don't tell me I didn't warn you.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Don't let me go to Japan!

I am serious. Don't let me go to Japan. I don't know what it will take, but ban me from that country. And while you're at it, ban me from eBay as well.

Just imagine me there. Or rather don't. A sex-starved, androgynous beauty devotee western girl unleashed on the streets of Japan. Like Krakatoa, a Mongolian riding excursion and a banquet sponsored by Viagra and Dionysus rolled in one and interrupted by deafening farting sounds. I get excited just by thinking about it. I'm sure I will somehow spot Gackt. Or Uruha. I will sniff them. I will use my bionic super senses, trained to locate all hairless males with arms slimmer than mine and promising lips in a hundred mile radius. I bet they smell like cotton candy, hot chocolate with cinnamon and vanilla and cat fur. I will locate them and the entire police force of Japan won't be able to open my jaws, firmly secured around Gackt's underwear (with Gackt still wearing it and struggling in vain, of course). They will lose so much manpower trying to get close and being repelled by a mysterious poisonous gas that makes even gas masks melt that they'll decide to let me have him and that will be the end of it (and him). I will drag him unconscious to my lair and lick him till he has no bodily hair left, not even eyebrows. Mmm, sweet-smelling flesh, stupidity and obligation free. He can wail and scream as much as he wants, I don't speak his language. I will then raid every shop that sells those fantabulous clothes I can't buy from here, unless I sell my entire mother and one of my kidneys to the organ market. And finally, I will leave Japan with three hundred suitcases, at least fifty of  which will be delivered to FedSex (see post: advertisement) because they'll contain nekkid Japanese boy-toys (although Gackt is over thirty five). I will declare those at customs as "bedroom decoration articles/other".

Seriously. Don't let me go to Japan. I don't know what I'm capable of, but I'm sure I will find out on the spot. Someone must declare Japanese visual kei artists as endangered species and post my photo as the natural predator of the species before it's too late! Act now to prevent disaster from happening! You have been forewarned...