Jump to content
Post-Update: Forum Issues Read more... ×
BPAL Madness!
Post-Update: Forum Issues

darkitysnark

Members
 View Profile  See their activity

  • Content Count

    2,630

  • Joined

  • Last visited

Blog Entries posted by darkitysnark

  1. darkitysnark
    Snarky never claimed to be "goth", but she apparently ended up that way.
     
    Black just suited her better, and while her musical tastes have always been on a diet, she enjoys what little genre music does happen to wander past her plate.
     
    Oh and there's the poetry. The breadth and depth of which must surely qualify her for some sort of angsty, navel-gazey, inky black award.
     
    It was on Glampyre's suggestion that BPAL would appeal to more "gothic" tastes that brought Snarky into the fold in the first place. But instead of finding a more delicious brew in which to wallow Snarky has found mostly happiness and resonance through BPAL.
     
    Better living through (esoteric, alchemical) chemistry, as it were.
     
    This morning's judicious application of Danse Macabre has eased Snarky out of her Existential Funk. She's now contemplating dinner with The Mister (another date-date!), a minor sandwich cookie binge (probably not, though, because of aforementioned date-date), and (hopefully) impending landed gentry-dom. It feels good to be grounded in the here-and-now again, rather than the shoulda-woulda-couldas.
     
    However, Snarky will endeavour to honor her inky black roots and try mightily to contemplate something deepy dark and morbid. Possibly the wretched demise of this damned intranet site she's been trying to build for the last two months. Surely therein lies a tale of woe.
  2. darkitysnark
    She's like everybody else - she's completely unique.
     
    There are minor variations that skew her off center from the norm, but it's a large, comfortable demographic with ample wiggle room.
     
    The hated but apropos "slackerdom" is inherent (why else a "high-concept" blog crafted during the work day?) as is the vague uneasiness that often accompanies the under-utilized, over-educated, filled-with-potential-but-not-going-anywhere intelligence that wishes it could live long enough to become wisdom.
     
    She has recently discovered concrete proof of her own mortality - first in the endodontist's chair, tears streaming back into her hair; and again in the surprisingly warm and comfortable imaging room during her first mammogram. Her world sharpened into finite days. Now anything done without mindfulness is shameful, offensive, a waste.
     
    Which is horrifying as her entire life, save for a few accidental miracles, is one shameful, offensive waste after another.
     
    She's waited so long - too long? - she needs to do something. The need is a physical ache in her palms, a perma-frown, unbearable restlesness.
     
    She grabs her imp of Danse Macabre. The drydown will bring back old friends and that night spent saying timid goodbyes. Making eye contact for the first and last time. Her last dance with that great old group of freaks.
     
    Green hope wafts from her drying wrists. She settles down to type, and to wait out her memories.
×