Anna Lee, the Healer

Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, answer these questions.Try not to repeat a song title. Repost as "my life according to (band name)".

Stolen from Inari - SEE HER’S BELOW

MY LIFE ACCORDING TO THE BEACH BOYS:

Are you a male or female:

The Farmer’s Daughter

Describe yourself:

What is a Young Girl Made of?

Surfer Girl meets Girl from New York City meets Your Summer Dream

How do you feel:

Wonderful

Describe where you currently live:

It’s like Winds of Change

If you could go anywhere, where would you go?

California’s Calling but I hope someday... This Whole World.

Your favorite form of transportation:

Honkin’ Down the Highway

Thought for the Day:

Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow

Your closest friend?

One’s Forever, One’s Funky Pretty, One’s an Island Girl, One’s A Child of Winter and One’s a Honky Tonk Girl

You and your friends are:

Fun Fun Fun

What's the weather like:

Sunshine

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:

How She Boogalooed It

What is life to you:

A Long Promised Road

Your relationship:

You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away

What do think of when you think of love:

Love is a Woman and a Chapel of Love

Your fear:

It’s Over Now

What is the best advice you have to give:

Strange Things Happen

How I would like to die:

Chasin’ the Sky

My soul's present condition:

Stoked

My motto:

Mama Says...

xoLo

If I were a PS - I would be: Add SOme Music to your Day

Spitting tequila on a pilled-up raver

Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, answer these questions.Try not to repeat a song title. Repost as "my life according to (band name)".

Stolen from BFFF (the extra 'F' stands for 'Fuckin') Megz.

MY LIFE ACCORDING TO THE YEAH YEAH YEAHs

Are you a male or female:
Look at me, I'm a Mystery Girl

Describe yourself:
Dudley, dear, I'm a fuckin' Phenomena

How do you feel:
WAY OUT

Describe where you currently live:
Surrounded by Shame and Fortune, but ultimately, I'd say it's a pretty Dull Life with lots of Sweets and Mysteries.

If you could go anywhere, where would you go?
Miles, Miles, Miles Away

Your favorite form of transportation:
A Gold Lion

Thought for the Day:
Hysterical!

Your closest friend?
One's a Warrior, one's a Honeybear, all are Faces I bring with me to my dark places.

You and your friends are:
Dragon Queens, Skeletons, Art Stars and the occasional Machine.

What's the weather like:
Like the sky's got cracks in its Sealings, letting the water out.

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:
Heads Will Roll

What is life to you:
A constant studying of Maps

Your relationship:


What do think of when you think of love:
Like a Poor Song that is simple yet flawed and beautiful in its flaws and its simplicities.

Your fear:
What I will Turn Into

What is the best advice you have to give:
Kiss Kiss then Bang! In that order.

How I would like to die:
On a Diamond Sea

My soul's present condition:
Zero. Start again.

My motto:
Life is just a bunch of Rockers to Swallow. Bottoms up!


Yours,

I

If I were a rock star, I would....wake up, drunk, with my lungs full of glitter.

"You're just a sad, second rate, impotent little copycat."

Let's consider for a moment - The Zodiac. Conveyer belt pop idols. Any white kid who owns a Che shirt. Generic brands marketed toward the food-stamp demographic. I'm talking Compliments, Equality, Life, No Name.

Saved by the Bell... the NEW CLASS.

What about the 1968 Big Mac to the 1957 Whopper? Or 1995's Pop-eyes to 1929's KFC?

Or... Liam Gallagher! No matter how much he pleas... he is NOT the reincarnate of John Lennon. Simply put... he's a copycat.

COPYCAT!!

It's safe to say the original is usually always better, which is why I'm not too peeved by the string of copycats that I've seem to accumulate over the past few decades. Not saying these unnamed individuals wanted to be me. Why would they? They usually had simpler lives - and by extension - less stressful ones. But there are certain qualities, details that are "me" that they would try to fashion... or embody rather, which is just downright, doggone ambitious to say the least.

Time and time again I've been told I am "mature" - older than the value my numerical years suggest. Sometimes, I agree. Sometimes that observation is almost completely right. However...let's allow for just a moment (or for the duration of this blog post at least) for a little of my immaturity to shine through. After all, we all need a little time to breathe (er vent)... and what better outlet than under an alias on a forum virtually no one reads? Yes. Let's.

Here it goes -

I'm sick of copycats!!! It's not flattering... At least I don't find it flattering. Do you?

It's especially unflattering - and might I add uber annoying - when said individual copycat ignores you, or chooses to deliberately ignore certain trademarks to your personality (most likely because of jealousy?) ...and then at some point later copies you OR admits their admiration for you when they're either a) drunk, b) desperate for attention... or c) For once in a good mood and want to throw it in your face. Spare me.

I leave you with this -

Say I take off this dress... shave my head, throw away my glasses, leave the film industry and never write again...? What I'm left with is still more than what you've tried to gain by being a copycat. I've still got what's me - that's spirit. A spirit that strives to be grateful - never petty. A spirit that's optimistic and growls in the face of intimidation. A spirit that try, tries again. Hell, if it were a carebear it'd be Champ. And it's something you'll never have, and can never try to annex as your own.

xoLo

If I were a saying in French I would be: C'est la vie.

Fuzzy, scuzzy, purple haze

I spent the majority of the weekend fighting my way through a thick cloud of my own herb-induced thought vomit. I smoked a lot of pot. More than I've ever smoked in my life. In three days' time, I don't think I got more than a good hour of sunlight. I just sat in my room, in the dark, with the blinds closed and the fans on, thinking...thinking...thinking...

Pot, it turns out, is a depressant.

Not that it was a bad experience. There were moments when it felt good to feel everything...fuzzy top layers of memories I hadn't even thought of for years. Marijuana splits my personality, usually into two - my good self and my critical self, or what I call 'the tape'. Maybe my brother sold me some psychedelic herb because, this time, I was split into hundreds of parts, like how a tree branch splinters and each of those splinters were circling through me like a zoetrope projecting onto a screen. It was weird. It was intense. It was a little nauseating. I don't know if I'd call it insightful...it did, however, provide some great day-after reading material.

I'm in the video store now. I feel sticky and my right eye is red and puffy and I'm kind of, as always, pretty nauseous. I've been feeling really bummed lately. Just a real lack of energy and an unplaced sadness. I think a lot of this has to do with withdrawal. Brain chemistry is a bitch. Other than when I was in surgery, I have never been so under-the-influence as I am now. I don't understand my body. It's acting up and mood swinging and bloating and thinning and appetites come and go at odd hours, all at the flip of a coin, all at the whims of the wind. I feel like asking it: "Yo, what the hell?" But I can't, because I know it's trying. I know it's trying to shake off this fuzz. It's just saying 'I don't know. I'm just as confused as you are. I'm sorry. Bear with me.' And I guess I have no choice.

Yours,

I


If I were a breakfast food, I would be...a waffle. Pun totally intended.

radio commercial music: substance abuse entry #too

It's an old familiar smell. Pungent, yet comforting.
I have a certain feeling. And I've started to realize that part of the reason I like this feeling - is feeling it with others.
I want to feel this way with others.

The clocks are blinking at me. It's like Felix the fucking cat in here.

This time, I'm trying something different. I rarely pen in such a state. But here I am, Agatha flippin' Chrisie - honking down on this keyboard - each finger like (the chomp chomp chomp of hunting teeth... sharp sharp teeth - coming down on some menacing prey. ) And look at them glisten. Ivory white.

BLOOOOOOODDDDDDDDD of prey - splashed across the ivory like splattered paint.
Like Jackson Pollock.
Like bloody flippin' Marys splashing from the mixer to the glass... Splashhhh.

Shhhh Shhhh. Do you hear it...?
Listen to the shell's ear child... The ocean is inside...The ocean in the shell.

I hear it. A world inside.

If I am the shell - - - WHO is my ocean?

I'm going to fight the evil clock-time stopper goblins and try and set these digital blinkers. God of electricity try to control your temper so you do not blow out and cause my clocks to blink blink blink!

Let's say that tonight is a night of radio commercial jingle music and sunny days in dark kitchens scissor monsters in the night. Were you traumatized in Arts & Crafts? I wasn't. But maybe you were.

xoLo
If I were any stupid question I would be: Is it Hall & Oats or Holland Otis?

Everyone needs to drink more coffee and have more sex

Fuck, it's been a long time since I did some under-the-influence free-writing. I'm 100% sober right now, but that's not for lack of trying.

I dreamt last night that I had somehow been sent back as a seventh-grader, only with the full knowledge of everything that's happened in the past ten years. It didn't look like my elementary school and some of the people were definitely from later time periods, but the rush of it, the excitement of knowing exactly what to do...God, I woke up wanting nothing else. To re-do the last ten years. To take what was mine when it mattered, to tell people to fuck off, to know that all of those stupid insecurities didn't matter.

But then, ten years from now, am I going to want to re-do all of this? How do I channel my 30 year-old self and ask her what to do? I guess I'm just going to have to trust her.

Yours,

I


If I were a novel, I would be...a meandering epic that starts at the big bang and ends in a small room.

pinball loverZ

Theres black ink under my fingernail. I keep forgetting to scrub it clean.

I have a question burning in my mind. Why do some chics try so hard...

I try hard - but not in the way I mean in the above sentence. There is a colossal difference. And I donèt use the word colossal lightly.

Drunk Disclaimer: There are (È)s everytime I try to do punctuation - that includes quotation marks. Itès because im on my old computer and am too lazy to try and figure out how to fix this concundrum on this ancient G4. Bare with me folks. Bear or Bare... whatves.

Can someone tell me where are all the motherfuckers at when I want to party.

Everyoneès OUT when Lo gets off work. Everyoneès working when Lo gets off early. No oneès around. No ones around to party on our righteoous patio. Lo has to resort to txt msging. She has to resort to communicating with people through digitally delivered words 150 characters or less. damn the 21st century. Damn technology! damn you alpha beta delta gamma. whatÈ

Im going to stop using punctuation because the accent agu on that e is driving me nuts. eff the random french canadian setting my old mac is on!!! mofos. but I hear moreal is just lovely this time of year. i should plan a trip yesÈ

anyways. ive had an epiphany and that epiphany is - is that we all just want love. we want to be in love. that over the fence world series kind of love (to quote It Takes Two - the olsens at their finest).

Im patient - i admit. I dont want to find love today because I want my one love to last forever... But then what does life mean until then...
(at a moment like this I really wish I had the ability to punch in a question mark). darn. no one is taking this seriously beacuse im punctuationally challenged and drunk.

Instead I sit here by myself. 3 rye and diets (in a tall glass) down - txting my sister 6 hours away and talking to my pops loaded to pass the time before I meet afay at some swanky bar.

I almost just prank called 2 Q video.

I think itès time to slow down on the booze.

ièm going to stop writing but leave you with this last thought:

I LOVE LIFE.


.... However... it baffles me. How can I lvoe life - and yet be missing the ONE thing I love most in the world.

a conundrum my friends.

xo Lo.

if i were a drunk text I would be - to Sarah Zanetti.

Beware of Bitch/Sucker Punch - Sexless Double-Album Post

So I've been in a bad mood lately. It's a combination of things. The heat. Mosquitoe bites. PMS. Withdrawal. But mostly? It's people. People make me want to fucking kill shit.

If you want to know the true pettiness of human nature, don't go to war or move to a third-world slum...work in customer service. I am astounded at what people think they can ask for. Prepped-out hipsters try to haggle down a $1 late fee. Mild-mannered housewives bitch you out for a $4 refund. People yell - YELL - because movies don't work. It's not about the money. My pay is shitty no matter how great the business. It's about the audacity that people have nowadays...that they can indignantly ask for shit they don't deserve, that they can act like they are entitled to treat you badly because they frequent a business. Of all small businesses, movie rental has the most visible scale for consumer accountability. And what I've learned from my job: most people are not accountable. WAY TO FAIL, MOST PEOPLE!

I think it's this city. I love Toronto, but fuck if city life doesn't bring out terrible sides of people. This stress is contagious. I think we all need to trap ourselves in sensory deprivation tanks for a day and chill the fuck out. I need to chill the fuck out.

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car
road
store
cash
hammer
car
road
house
foyer
livingroom
couch
hammer
HEAD
HEAD
HEAD
hammer
carpet
bleach
hammer
sink
soap
water

-I

If I were a pie, I would be....Leave Me Alone You Ignorant Fucker Pie (rasperberry, white chocolate mousse, with a crumbled shortbread crust)

Free Trial Offer

Wouldn’t it be something if, like at a tanning salon, you could get a free week trial on a relationship? Then after a week you could decide whether or not you wanted to join?

What if for one week... we were a couple? Spent time one on one -- Roller discoed -- Held hands -- Gave pecks on the lips before heading out the door -- Sent dirty text messages -- Leaned in close and whispered that everything is going to be okay -- and got bad just about everywhere.

Then in precisely one week it expired, and we could be left to make an informed decision. There would be no hard feelings... because it wouldn’t be a break-up! You could simply just select not to renew.

Then again... a trial is still only a trial. And when it’s $59.95/month to tan in Yorkville... you know you’re not joining. You know your parents wouldn’t approve... you know it isn’t good for you...

Is there harm in still trying?

I guess free trials are only for new customers, and after four years, he and I really aren’t. Unless you pretend to be someone new... But would you get caught?

des

If I were a one-man girl, I’d be... screwed.