Top Ten Lists List

Have you seen this FB challenge: ten albums that changed/ influenced my life – actually you can remove ‘album’ & replace it with books, movies, poems, paintings, sex partners (for those of us who are willing to admit they’ve had enough sex partners to pick ten from) & finally: ten lists that have changed my life.

I’ve been tagged on some of these but never play along. It’s not that I don’t have favourites or that there aren’t things that have changed my life. I’m just sure what ‘changed my life’ means anyway. It’s not as if I can name a movie, book etc that turned me gay – there have been some that have confirmed that fact but none that are responsible.

Some things have unconsciously affected my tastes but this I only see in retrospect. Always wonder how, say, Hercules’s junk stayed under his tunic even when he was wrestling a lion – certainly had an affect 🙂 How it was that women would be naked for sex while the men often were fully clothed? No fly opens wide enough to actually fuck pleasurably. Stuff like that is where movies changed my life.

oh yes – 10 albums/musicians that influence my music tastes: 1. Stanley Black’s recording of Rhapsody in Blue; 2. Pizzicato 5; 3. Yes: Tales From Topographic Oceans; 3. John Coltrane: Blue Train & 4. A Love Divine; 5. Miles Davis: Kind of Blue, 6. Bitch’s Brew; 7. Beatles: Revolver & 8. Sgt. Pepper; 9. Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsodies; 10. Meco: Star Wars. Oh wait I forgot …. 

I have blogged here about many of my inspirations: writers, composers, painters. There’s a post in the archives of movies I watch over & over. There’s a difference between inspiration & pleasure. Not everything has to have some sort of emotional, creative weight to bring me joy. In fact nothing everything has to be ‘good’ either, it can be fun. I freely admit my shallowness 🙂

Or perhaps this list itch is a way if people exercising  some sort of control in a time when we fear the world is spinning out of control.



my blood

sticky on my fingers

quick to cool 

iron on my tongue

red black thin

not enough to feel warmth

enough to know I have cut 



not where anyone can see it

I don’t cut for attention

no marks along my arms or wrists

no mesh of scars to explain 

to haunt me years later


I don’t remember how it started

was it to see some blood

or a need to make me hurt 

a grounding in shame

take that you stupid idiot

teach my body a lesson

teach my heart a song

let it sing that small drip refrain


I wash my hands when I’m done

watch the healing

then forget the ceremony

for hours 

for days

even for years 

before I am compelled once more

to feel my blood

sticky ripe between pale fingers

it smells the same

tastes the same

still comes as eagerly when called 

by the blade

as I evoke

a few confirming drops of my self

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees – 

#FanExpoCanada 2015


CN Tower from Convention Centre

Over the years I’ve learned to ‘negotiate’ FanExpo for maximum enjoyment. Last year I opted not to bother with the Thursday morning line up by 1. picking up my wristband & pass the day before; 2. arriving after 2 pm on Thursday, by which time the Premium pass lineup has already made its way in. Easy & fast.


follow the Off White Queen

Picking up my pass the day before also gets me ready for the hell of Union Station – due to renovation work Union has been a maze the past few years. It wasn’t so bad this year – the Skywalk was readily accessible – though the fast-food places on the GO level were all closed for on-going work – no Tim Ho’s for snaps of cosplayers gulping down Tim Bits. But lot of cosplayers hefting axes, bow & arrows on their way to hopefully being swarmed by photographers. At least on the Skywalk I was able avoid being whacked or tripped by their props.


tee shirts of the damned

Day one I get a sense of what I want, go though the program for possible events but as I get older I’m not longer chomping at the bit for a Hogwarts reunion or a q&a with the cast of Teen Wolf (maybe, no, definitely with Tyler Posey in private). I did pick up a Dario Argento DVD set: Cat O’Nine Tails, Deep Red & Inferno. I also kept an eye open for some old school horror tee’s – too bad I’m not that into Walking Dead, Star Wars or Star Trek as there was lot of that to be bought. Where was Bride of Frankenstein? Hey look, there’s Mike Tyson.


ready for her close-up

Day two was more of the same – I got off at St Andrews to avoid Union & also to hit the Starbucks near there – bonus stars cashed in – easy entry starting with the North hall & more of the horror stuff. Nothing cracked my wallet open though. Though the gladiator clad men were fetching I resisted being one of the 200 cameras pointed at them. Over to the South hall & found American Vampire volumes 4, 6, 7 that I don’t have. I resisted Volume 1 of the collected Sandman – weighed too much & cost too much: $175.00! even with the free bag that was a bit much for me. I guess the gold edging was real gold. Hey look, there Rupert Grint.

After a few hours I was ready to leave. Spotted a few celebs, gotten tripped and/or swathed by one too many cosplay props as I tried to avoid baby carriages & no where to actually sit down either. The Premium lounge is great in theory but not inviting enough. But I did find the old school monster tee I was looking for – spotted one at the tiptop of one of the tee-shirt retailer walls – of course they hire just for the event & so staff doesn’t know stock & it took twenty minutes to find one, male cut, in my size. What did I get? You’ll have to wait till I get my pic taken at a future Cabaret Noir to know. Or send me $5 via paypal for an early peek 🙂


clearly not going commando

Skipped Saturday, & Sunday was, as expected, mayhem, thanks to: Hey look! Gillian Anderson. Next year I’ll stick to Thursday & Friday, unless they bring in the cast of American Horror Story. There’s a photo op many would line up for – Jessica hold the whip a little higher.


Life of An Unknown Poet

I was handing my credit card

to the Winners clerk

when my camera crew got into shoving match

with her camera crew


I didn’t see how out of hand things were

till I watched a podcast of

The Making of The Life of An Unknown Poet

by the crew following my camera crew


my head camera man was asked

how did the poet feel

when he was accosted

he pointed his camera at me

as I walked out of the store

I looked back

glad I was still the one on camera


I was tempted to go back

but didn’t want to interrupt

the entertainment food chain

I had my own life to lead

and what he thought I thought

about the shoving match

wasn’t all that vital to me

the world knew how shallow I was

for a poet


except for this show

I remained unknown

even after six seasons

my books sales hadn’t increased

I wasn’t getting reviews

and this pissed me off

in fact my viewers

would like to see me pissing too

but I had to draw the line somewhere

they could watch me flush

but couldn’t see me take a leak

I have some pride


later there was a news report

of the shoving match

someone was injured

not one of my crew or my crew’s crew

it struck me how futile it was

that no matter what one did

someone was bound to suffer

that even allowing my personal angst

to be the fodder of millions

it didn’t stop the circle of suffering

my camera crew applauded me

as I wrote those lines about suffering

which made it all worth while once again

I can go living giving all to my life

even if there is no bump in book sales

or any chance of sex


unless that camera man

from the clerk’s camera crew is available

he looked kind of hot

in the podcast of the shoving match

he needs a shave

but his bloody nose gave this unknown poet

a spark of known reality



November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo

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