Saturday, January 26, 2008

I've been waiting for this silence all night long

I was wandering in a forest last night, but the trees were white, and the snow was red. I wasn't lost, though, I was walking. There was a sudden pain in my stomach and I looked down to see a hole in my belly, right over my womb, right over my baby. My blood was black.

White as the wood, red as the snows;
Black as the blood that over it flows

I kneeled there in the snow dying. Yellow eyes watched me from among the woods. Wolves, but they were too small. Coyotes, but they were too muscled. Dogs, but they were too wild. Their fur was black tipped with silver and they circled me like starlight.

There was a cub, no more than a year, who came to sit before me, his yellow eyes looking into mine. I reached out a hand, white skin with black rivers running over it. He sniffed me, tasted me, I fell over. The snow around me is cold. I am lying in it, surrounded by crimson. He is lying with me, his head resting on my neck, my fingers twining in his fur.

He sat and lowered his head, lapping at my belly. His muzzle was black with the blood of my baby. He is sipping my soul. His eyes were a mirror.

I was falling in them.

Red as the snow, white as the leaves,
Black as the soul that mourns and grieves

"Let it go," said the wolf-coyote-dog. "Let it die. In death, there is always new life. In truth there is no dying, only change. Look at your belly."

There were two young ones, baby wolf-coyote-dogs lapping at the blood around me, feeding on me.

I looked back at him, and saw him for what he was. He was King Death in a hellhound body, running in the dreamland.

"Let it go," he said and lowered his bloody muzzle to my face. I closed my eyes and he licked them each, leaving a circle of blood on the lids. I could not open them.

"The toll for the ferry to the waking world," he told me. "This is like life too. You must even pay to be abused, as you are punished for being hurt."

White as the dawn, black as the leech,
Red as the lessons hell has to teach

When they went, I was alone in my snow-grave. In dreams, I slept and saw them roaming the shores of the Styx. I did not follow them. I was done with despair.

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Feeling the blood run inside

"Her body felt slinky and gorgeous, writhing in time with the music. She was slick and dangerous, a snake weaving her way across the dance floor. The power of her own sexuality was like a drug, drawing her deeper into the folds of her movements. She could feel bodies brushing against her and didn't care if they were male or female. There was no identity, only the drive to move. Here she was an arm against a side, there a hip against a thigh. It was divine.

She could feel him waiting, a still spot in the corner of her mind. He was stone and earth, hard lines and angles. She couldn't resist slithering closer, always circling, stalking him through the bodies. He was watching and so she danced all the more slowly, every motion a torture of flowing limbs and aching muscles. Darkness and denim flashed, alternating with her shifting hips. He hated her. He loved her. More importantly he wanted her, and that was what she needed. She called him like the moon calling to the seas, her pull inevitable, bringing him into the same spaces as often as possible."
~On Desire, by Robyn Lefkowitz

I need to go dancing again. My beast is pacing in the cage behind my eyes. I can feel her, waiting, watching for the chance to slip out. I find her in the pounding bass. I can work her there between the bodies. She can wear herself down, dull her claws on the floors, scream her throat raw and when I stagger home, exhausted beyond exhaustion, I'll find peaceful sleep of moonlight and pomegranates.

I say she, but I am a beast under all my pretty layers of culture and society. I am animalistic in my heart of hearts, a leopard stalking alleycats. Perhaps living so long as an animal instilled this in me, but for whatever reason I have deepseated primal urges that I have to vent every so often and I am long overdo. There is a restlessness in me that can't be sated with anything but blood, sweat, and tears. It needs pain, and anger; fear is unknown in this part of me.

For the longest time I would bleed it away in long, jagged testaments to the truth of the flesh. I paid blood sacrifice to my dark goddess. When that wasn't enough I would roam under moonlight in the cold. I slept on gravestones to soak in the numbness. I bathed in the chill air of winter to cool the flames. I even fought strangers to get the bruises I so craved.

When I got older I would fuck it away with angry sex. I'd hand some poor worshipper his dream and fuck him, but leave if he looked for more. The scratches quieted the beast; I was content with bruises and aching. Then even that became useless, because I fell in love and it meant something more than pacification so I would dance instead. Real dancing, from the days of drum circles, is about blood, and sex, and destruction.

I need to go dancing.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Inside the crushing down, I felt a pang -- the tide was turning

I keep having strange dreams but when I wake up I can't remember them. Sleeping has been more like unconsciousness than anything else. I always remember my dreams, and I can't help but feel like I'm failing Morpheus. Starving exhausts me so much but I saw an oppurtunity and seized it.

I had a dream a few weeks ago about Morpheus's library again. I was reading a version of Little Red Riding Hood and he asked me why I had been away. I told him I couldn't find him as easily anymore and that I was lost in the woods too. He put his hand on my head and I felt like I could see everything that had ever happened and when he took his hand away again he said, "You've seen an eternity. You can always find me." Then he was gone, but it was as if he were behind my eyes watching what I watched. And it's going to sound ridiculous but I could see it through his eyes. On the page where there had been plain print I could see the original manuscript, the scratches, the revisions, the copy edit changes, this print, the pages rotting away, emptiness where this book had been in some distant day.

I've always had vivid dreams and I've dreamed about Morpheus more than once. I don't worry too much about analyzing but it does bother me that I haven't been able to remember them lately. My dreams are important to me for personal reasons. I hope my drought ends soon.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

And the sun will set for you

Today has been a relatively good day for the metabolism farming. I had a bowl of Rice Krispies this morning, and a sushi roll for lunch. I also snacked on a slice of cheese, but nothing else today. I need to get rid of my period bloat.

Edit: Damn the girls at work. They went into crisis and I had to eat Doritos with them to prevent it from escalating. Just a handful, but still.

I'm fasting tomorrow. Fuck it. Nothing but coffee. I have a staff meeting in the morning, an interview in the afternoon and a CPR class at night. No time for anything to eat.

These are not good times to be near me.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Give in to Peer Pressure

I'm bored at work.

1. What is Your Name? Robyn
2. How old are you? 20
3. What is the link to your website, blog, or myspace? My other one is but it's friends only.

4. What is your height? 5'7"
5. Do you have any siblings? A sister and a brother, both younger
6. What is your eye colour? Blue or green, depending on the day
7. What is your hair colour? Blonde, more of an old gold color.
8. Do you wear glasses or contacts? Glasses.
9. Are you right handed or left handed? Right, primarily
10. Do you have any piercings? My ears six times, four on my left, two on my right
11. Do you smoke? No
12. Do you swear? Indeed
13. Do you get along with your parents? Hehe. You're funny
14. Your heritage: Piker
15. Your fears: Having my tendons cut
16. Goal you would like to achieve this year: 115 lbs. and a new job.
17. Most overused phrase on an instant messenger: Hehe
18. Best Physical Feature: My hands are thin and pretty. People tell me I have pretty eyes
19. Your bedtime: Those are for people who sleep
20. What time do you arise in the morning? I go to sleep in the morning
21. First thoughts waking up? Five more minutes...
22. Do you shower daily? Always.

This Or That?
23. Bright or dark room? Dark
24. Chocolate or vanilla? Vanilla
25. Dogs of cats? Yes
26. Pepsi or Coke? Coke
27. McDonalds or Burger King? Wendy's
28. Ant or Dec? Ant AND Dec
29. Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea? Nestea
30. Cappuccino or Coffee? Yes

In the last month have you...
31. Drank alcohol? No
32. Gone to a mall? Yes
33. Eaten a box of Oreos? Fuck no. What have you been smoking?
34. Eaten sushi? Yes. Tasty, tasty sushi...
35. Been on stage? No
36. Been dumped? No
37. Gone skinny dipping? No. It's January. I would die.
38. Stolen Anything? No

Have you ever...
39. Laughed for no reason? Yes
40. Been caught doing something you weren't supposed to do? Yes
41. Been in love? Yes
42. Fired a gun? No
43. Been drunk? Yes
44. Been called a Tease? Yes
45. Been beaten up? Yes
46. Shoplifted? Yes

What was the last....
47. Furry thing you touched? My cat, Church
48. Thing you've said? "Abuse the fuck out of your subordinates."
49. Song you've listened to? The Knutley Brass band version of the Misifts, "Go Where Eagles Dare"
50. (Who was the last) person you've spoken to on the phone? I don't remember
51. Movie you watched? AVP: Requiem
52. Thing you were doing before this? Talking to my friend about our job.
53. Time you cried? When I was yelling at my husband for something he did.
54. Song you've sang? Build Me Up Buttercup, the punk cover by an unnamed band with a female lead
55. Time you looked at the clock? Just now. Thank you, psychological conditioning
56. Food and drink you've had? My energy drink
57. Flavour of gum you've chewed? Winter
58. Shoes you've worn? My sneakers
59. Store you've been in? Cumberland Farm's

60. Planet? Pluto. And if you tell me it isn't a planet so help me I'll maim you.
61. Age you've been so far? 20.
62. Season? Fall or Winter
63. Number? 7^3
64. TV show? Metalocalypse
65. Flower? Love Lies Bleeding

66. How much cash do you have on you? 7 bucks.
67. What's a word that rhymes with 'door'? Fuck rhyming
68. What T-Shirt are you wearing? A red t-shirt with a puppy Cereberus on it
69. What brand of shoes are you wearing? Nike's
70. What did your last text message say? I'm about 2/3 done.
71. What were you doing at midnight last night? Starting work
72. What's your current desktop picture? At home it's blue because my active desktop has a glitch and won't display pictures
73. What's a word that you say a lot? Indeed
74. If you were a crayon, what colour would you be? Pomegranate
75. How is the weather right now? Crisply chilly, but not cold
76. What is the first thing you notice about the opposite sex? Body proportions and the expression on the face (i.e. intelligent or not)
77. Are you too shy to ask someone out? No
78. Can you do a headstand (not using a wall)? Not for very long but yes
79. Who would you like to see right now? My husband because it would mean I was at home getting ready to sleep.
80. How many pillows do you sleep with? Usually one
81. Would you go on a date with someone on MySpace? Nope
82. How do you want to die? Let me put it this way, you'll be reading about it in the papers XD
83. What do you want to be when you grow up? A published author
84. What country would you most like to visit? Romania
85. How many CDs do you own? Maybe 10?
86. How many things, in your past, do you regret? Two
87. Do you think you are attractive? I don't think I'm unattractive
88. Do you believe in yourself? Yes
89. Do you want to get married? I am married. =P

In a boy/girl...
90. Favourite eye colour? Blue
91. Favourite hair colour? Doesn't matter
92. Short or long hair? Short.
93. Height? Tall
94. Weight? Thin to athletic

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Tuesday, January 8, 2008

Of scales and balances

125. That's my new average weight. It's really strange to me to be back in this place but with a new and more destructive outlook. What I've begun doing to myself to lose weight is worse than starving in many ways because my metabolism cannot possibly find a way to adjust. I practice some heavy restriction, forcing my metabolism to remain active and high but not taking enough to maintain my weight. My results are not as dramatic. They don't happen overnight, but my body is slowly thinning itself down to these new balances of low weight and high burn. I don't know that I'll stop when the times comes.

Maybe it already has. When I stretch every rib shows in stark relief and the only reason they don't when i stand still is because I have firm skin that won't sink around them unless pulled. Well, it won't sink yet. I'm getting there. Even my face, which never thins, is thinner. Everyone thinks I can't maintain my body weight because of a high metabolism. I eat regularly now. It's the eating disorder no one will ever be able to spot. I'm too good at what I do now. Too experienced. It's so easy to cut out the fat in my diet, to drop the heavy protein and skip the carbs. It's too easy to get away with, because I am, and no one, not even my husband, would guess it's intentional.

I'm such a bitch. This is a selfish, stupid disease. It's not even a disease. It's an obsession. A phobia of being fat. I'm completely responsible for what I do. I'm not saying everyone with an eating disorder is. I'm saying I am. I know what my nutritional choices herald. I pick and choose what I know will help me get that little bit skinnier, that little bit more skeletal. My husband is trying to eat healthy. It's child's play to steer him towards low fat, lean protein, greens, no breads. These things are healthy for him, but unhealthy for me. I make them unhealthy. How sick is it that I've even found a way to corrupt nutrition to be counterproductive?

I'm so torn right now. I'm in a new cycle of self-destruction, but I feel guilty for what it may do to my husband to worry for me. I know he worries about me. I know he'd love me if I were a whale. I know this, and yet I can't let myself be fat. I can't let myself be healthily thin. I'm borderline too thin for my height now. 5'7", 125, mainly muscle. I haven't done my body composition in a while but I think I'm around 8%, if that. Too low for my frame, anyway.

This post doesn't have a point besides organizing my thoughts on "paper." Paper is too dangerous because it's a physical record. Electronic storage is easier to dispose of if the situation merits.

Sunday, January 6, 2008

The Tale of Dusty and Pistol Pete

Dusty screams, through doors and imaginary floors
"Why can't you miss me?"
Pistol pete removes the final breaths from her unkind and she is shaken
What does this mean in love or in peace?
With you lying next to me
So faithless serene
And she calls to him,

"Let the waste cross the ancient trails to you
Far out beneath the sorrow clouds
Let them taste the bitter lost mistake of you
Let them cry out through your rusted scars."

Alone he roams inside the ordinary catacombs of her waiting
With raven hands she steals and staggers towards her man
Still scorned by his demon

Because he's undone
Become the language of
Disaster and love, vengeance and dust
And she calls to him,

"Let the waste cross the ancient trails to you
Far out beneath the sorrow clouds
Let them taste the bitter lost mistake of you
Let them cry out through your rusted scars."

Dusty screams, through doors and imaginary scenes
Of hurt and teardrop
As he holds her down, in the cold lonely winds
Together again, her inside him
And she calls to him,

"Let the waste cross the ancient trails to you
Far out beneath the sorrow clouds
Let them taste the bitter lost mistake of you
Let them cry out through your rusted scars."