back to crack!

I'm so depressed! I stopped eating!

füssen, germany

P.S.A.

ptuj, slovenia

click picture to see it gigantorly

XTREME SNORGLING!!!

1. snorgle

To snorgle is to to snuggle a cute item in an manner meant to drink in or experience its overwhelming cuteness. Imagine picking up a cute puppy and sticking your face down into its furriness and snorgling it up. See cuteoverload dot com.

"She scooped up the shar pei puppy and snorgled its rolls of puppy fat." "The baby tapir snorgled its snout into the basket full of cuddly baby bunnies." "That toddler is so cute I just want to pick him up and snorgle his head full of curls."

tags snuggle gurgle cuddle sniff burrow

by Snorgles Snorgletown May 19, 2006

from urbandictionary.com!

Metabunny...as seen on... http://snorgle.blogspot.com/

and from the Cute Bible (http://www.cuteoverload.com)

it shall be an XTREME SPORT!!! XTREME SNORGLING!!! READY YOUR SNORGLING DEVICEEES!!!!

reverse chronology of thought

These writings are derived from stomach lurching mind churns. Like an emotional retching (often musically inspired) fit neatly into a few stanzas. Which, occasionally bring reprieve & a sense of resolve…though in this instance, it just curdled into another wheel. The lamp pops back on, pen to paper, get out of me…


lure the singing bird

awake at 4:45 am
driving for five
betwixt fallen rainbows
drawn on the gray foreboding sky

in Finnegan’s Wake fascination
with thoughts encapsulated meticulously
circulating in the compost heap
decomposing scraps discarded

by a haunted spirit
whose uncertainty of motive
lye like the ghost in all our souls
in Roddy McClory’s as he goes to die
on the bridge of Toome today

in shattered sleep
disturbed by echoes of demons
exorcising on to parchment
so that ne’er a tear is shed
from blue eyes worn & weary


dealing with sprites at 4:45 am

At first it seems thoughts of you are what keep me awake, tossing & turning, unsettled/incomplete. But that is just a cop out really, a glazed over ridiculous solution to the demons brewing in my skull…the shite that really needs hashed out. For instance, the searing judgment of hell (which I don’t believe in for starters)…what a horrible idea really…AND if eternity IS real, why would this miniscule blip in time warrant such definitive punishment? At best it’s a trial run to sort through reactions and actions in response to the trepidation & temptation you encounter in life. The very essence of life is growth…change, striving for that ideal that ideally should come from within. Ben Franklin said that when your actions and values are aligned, you’ll have inner peace. Well, it is high time we stop pushing our values on others. From the microcosm of my life to big stick diplomacy, how can an individual ever expect to be fully realized without being given the reigns for free, non-judgmental thought exploration? Maybe it is just the idealist in me, but I truly feel I might have come up with this conclusion on my own. OK, now the Leviathan is calling from the back of my mind, urging me to consider the balance that needs to be struck between rules, order and free will. UGH…I wish this was a mental battle (that was) easily resolved so sleep could be found. Maybe I will just fizzle out with unrealistic thoughts. They are all I can palpate right now in order to placate this waking state.

Mustache Monday Vol. 1

With less than half an hour remaining on this Monday, the last day of my 25th year, or I guess my 26th year, as I'm turning 26, well, not until 5:45 tomorrow, actually. ANYWAY. without further ado, I present to you, Mustache Mondays!

Earlier tonight I watched part of Magnum, P.I. My dad used to watch the hell out of that show when I was growing up! Later, this made much more sense. I guess I inherited his taste?


Selleck's 'stache is so 80s, so leatherman with the buttless chaps in the Pride parade. His bushy eyebrows are like little ladies in waiting, small valets to attend the kingly pushbroom of love!


Speaking of kings on this Mustache Monday before my birthday, we move now to a historical mustache who shares said birthday! King Charles II of England, who put the ladies back on the stage after years of oppression, and introduced those cute little spaniels like Charlotte had on Sex in the City. Not to mention other political stuff, which I'm going to go Wikipedia right now.

Happy Birthday, Chuck!

too much poetry.

check this out instead!



currently watching : A Love Song For Bobby Long on IFC.
currently missing : New Orleans

in which Claire tries to be Mer...

(old ass poem from college creative writing class-- emo, emo, emo juvenilia!)

--------------------------

take two

Rang you on a Monday with my sordid cliches--

For one October week and three self-indulgent days,

I trudged through the rain with my sunglasses on…

the Usual:

constant, bleak, stinging…

without so much as a dramatic thunderclap to justify my wallow!

no consoling lightning display,

no veiny electrocution to break up the ever-slate sky…

(sometimes that gray is brighter than welding, and more painful to stare at.)

met your spiny-haired literary friend at that one deadly crosswalk:

(too cool to stand up straight.)

he mumbled something about a witchtrial then remarked, in faux brogue,

"we're all frightened little mice, lass."

like me, he's challenged by eye contact.

the deluge persisted…

widowlike, sequestered

behind those fogged and pointless lenses,

eyes about to pour…

had to remind myself,

"don't overflow."

I thought you'd write a song about me

(I'm so vain)

imagined it angry

about 21 year old girls

about no straight answers.

(the subject instead, our incense-saturated Catholic brand of shame.)

surprised to find, when I awoke--

one week and four days later,

tangled sheets,

dried-up streets,

and a sky to rival Caribbean seas.

vehicular birdslaughter

:::::live transmission from Mer on the road:::::

mer: oh my god! i just killed a cardinal! it dive bombed in front of my car, as i was going 80 on i79 south!

claire: well, you should pull over and get the feathers so we can put them in our hair when we play indian princess!

mer: it was a pretty red one. good idea!

claire: it's vehicular birdslaughter!

mer: i'm gonna be convicted of birdslaughter! are they endangered? i don't think you're allowed to kill the state bird!

(she was cackling maniacally the whole time-- you know that laugh)

claire: is there blood on your windshield.. is it still there?

mer: i don't know, it hit my grille, i heard a thud.

(and then she cackled again)

chang and eng fistfighting because one's a drunk and one's a teetotaler and unfortunately they share a liver.

i did this at Lis Beardsley's house when i was in Morgantown. it's acrylic and ballpoint pen on 8 1/2" x 11" copy paper or whatever. click it if you want a bigass view!

the red sox are...

imaginary boyfriends vol. 1

I've always loved Alexander Hamilton...he was a New Yorker who loved the city and did so much to help it grow (though I'm sure he had the typical Native-raping, Slave-owning, Founding-Father-Bullshit going on). He's totally dashing, especially on the new tens, right? So dreamy. I think he and Aaron Burr were totally boyfriends!

It all ended so tragically...

I'm happy that M*A*S*H is on TV Land these days, because I just can't get enough of that Dr. BJ Honeycutt! I'd give him a BJ anytime! I mean, Alan Alda was hot and the ladies man and all, but damn, Beej! I want a mustache ride!

mer is this kind of fairy

The word merrow or moruadh comes from the Irish muir (meaning sea) and oigh (meaning maid) and refers specifically to the female of the species. Merrows themselves are extremely beautiful and are promiscuous in their relations with mortals.

The Irish merrow differs physically from humans in that her feet are flatter than those of a mortal and her hands have a thin webbing between the fingers. It should not be assumed that merrows are kindly and well-disposed towards mortals. As members of the sidhe, or Irish fairy world, the inhabitants of Tir fo Thoinn (the Land beneath the Waves) have a natural antipathy towards humans. In some parts of Ireland, they are regarded as messengers of doom and death.

Merrows have special clothing to enable them to travel through ocean currents. In Kerry, Cork and Wexford, they wear a small red cap made from feathers, called a cohullen druith. However, in more northerly waters they travel through the sea wrapped in sealskin cloaks, taking on the appearance and attributes of seals. In order to come ashore, the merrow abandons her cap or cloak, so any mortal who finds these has power over her, as she cannot return to the sea until they are retrieved. Hiding the cloak in the thatches of his house, a fisherman may persuade the merrow to marry them. Such brides are often extremely wealthy, with fortunes of gold plundered from shipwrecks. Eventually the merrow will recover the cloak, and find her urge to return to the sea so strong that she leaves her human husband and children behind.

Many coastal dwellers have taken merrows as lovers and a number of famous Irish families claim their descent from such unions, notably the O'Flaherty and O'Sullivan families of Kerry and the MacNamaras of Clare. The Irish poet W B Yeats reported a further case in his Irish Fairy and Folk Tales: "Near Bantry in the last century, there is said to have been a woman, covered in scales like a fish, who was descended from such a marriage". Despite her wealth and beauty, you should be particularly wary about encountering this marine fairy.

claire, hardly working.

teh life Paulquatic!

on reflection of romantic comedies

kismet cut short

will i stop thinking of ewe
the promise that wouldn’t pinkie swear

inspiration springs perpetual
no qualms of drought ensuing

thoughts of being in your arms
warms the dawn of so many days

daydreams of undaunted love
materializes unparalleled musings

meet-cute with me a thousand times
in the midst of reciprocal boozings

loaf them

we're snorglicious (def)

ummmmm welcome to Mer de Clair. as far as I can tell from reading Altavista Babelfish, it means something like "Sea of Light" in French, which I don't really speak. If you scrunch it up, like in the blog's URL, it looks like "Shit Clear" which is pretty cool too. I'm Claire, and Mer and I are working on this little operation together! She works for the government or something, and I work for corporate America, but despite this, we're still tewtelly sick twisted bitches. I mean, we're nice girls. We do all sorts of creative shit, but it's hard to focus, since we're both Air Signs. Like the dynamic musical duo of OutKast, we are Aquemini! We make songs sometimes, too. Someone said we sounded like a girl version of Ween. We did a song called "Don't Suck Dick in the Planetarium" but I think the recording is lost. We'll re-do it. We write tshirt slogans all the time, and someday we'll make them!

I made this yesterday :




and this today :


cheers!