The Retirement of the Space Shuttle Atlantis

Sci fi fans! Science geeks! True scientists! This is for me--er--for you! For you and me.

Like a lot of kids, I wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up. But my inability to ride on anything that goes around, and around, and around, and around (Ugh! I'm getting sick!) at speeds faster than a merry go round or ferris wheel means that dream was never meant to be.

I'll just stick to the confines of my home world and look out at the Universe from my deck through my trusty little telescope that my mom and pops (rest in peace, Daddy) bought me for my birthday in 1989. Still have it, never have seen reason to upgrade it.

A date to the planetarium? My fave! (Yes, Dylan, if you're reading this, that could be taken as a hint!)

Of course I still love hunkering down on a cold day with a cup of cocoa and a bowl of popcorn and watching my favorite sci fi movies and television shows. Because space is the final frontier, and it's fun to boldly go where no queer has gone before!

Allon-sy!

Pulp Fiction Soundtrack

"Pulp Fiction" Playlist

Tired Of

Posted by The Anonymous Art of Revolution on Facebook.

I know this feeling very well. I've never been one of The Beautiful People. I'm an outcast. In the United States, I don't encounter much racism, because I'm white. But, I'm White Trash. I'm also one of THEM. You know, the crazies, the sickos, the mentally ill.

I'm one of THEM, but you probably wouldn't know it. I'm not likely to make the news, unless its the obituaries because my disease finally won. I won't make the news for shooting up a movie theatre like a selfish fucking jackass, or shooting up people from a clock tower like a stupid fucking sociopath with no consciense, or for committing serial murders like a twisted fucking shithead. 

I, like the majority of people with mental illness, am no more dangerous than the average person. I am in fact more likely to be a victim than to be a predator.

Physically, I'm in my mid forties. Emotionally, I'm not an adult. I can hold a job, but the conditions have to be right or I'll sink into a severe depressive state. I'm a "loser" with a menial job, because that's what I can handle. I have a fairly high I.Q., but I'll never be able to excel in the usual ways.

Love, romance, and sex are difficult areas for me to navigate, so I choose to avoid them. I tend to attract predators who don't give a shit if they hurt me as long as they get some pussy, and broken people who might not mean to hurt me but they will. People like drug addicts. If I'm attracted to a guy, it means he's just wrong, so it's better if I stay away.

The character John Coffey is a truly beautiful person, not a glamorous person. I think that Michael Clarke Duncan seemed like a beautiful person too in his way. I liked him. Shine on, Big Man!

Love,

Illsa

Illsa's Illin' Movie Reviews: Imprint

Imprint is that rare thriller which manages to have a powerful impact without being overly gory. There is no gratuitous violence, no nudity, and even the harsh language is minimal. The protagonist is a strong yet flawed young Lakota lawyer who becomes a pariah when she prosecutes and gets a conviction against a boy from her own tribe. When she returns home to visit her sick father for his birthday, she begins experiencing frightening visions. 

It is wonderful to find a story where the strength lies in the tale itself: not in the special effects, not in the shock value, and, thankfully, not in exploiting the female characters. The filmmakers had integrity and a vision, and it shows.

Your Thursday Morning Tip For Staying Alive

I Can't Take Take Take Take It No More

Dahlings, Last.fm is messing around with their format and I don't like it! For the time, I'll be sharing some full-on videos with a theme, or not. I hope you enjoy. Here's a clip from one of my favorite obscure movies, Get Crazy.

Your life is the last film you watched

(Shared by I Love to Laugh)

I'm pretty well fucked.

Great effing drawing!

Aliens Remake

Now starring cats.

Have some Respect for the Dead

This image was shared by the Australian Paranormal Society

As Suicide said when Trash was grinding against his leg in the cemetery across the way from the crematorium:

"C'mon, willya? Have some fuckin' respect for the Dead!"

My writing sis Lily Strange certainly encountered one whole fuckton of no respect for the Dead when she published her ill-fated novel, Eternal Death: Lost Beneath the Surface, which is currently being revised by my other writing sis, Rose LeMort.

I'm sure that the Dead are not interested in other people's pervy sex fantasies.

Having sex with corpses is straight up nasty.

Attempting to have sex with ghosts is a really bad idea. You could end up with a demon in your bed instead.

I'm extremely interested in what goes on in the Afterlife. I think it's best to be polite to the people I might meet when I get there!