One big happy family:)

Woohoo!

Spot the differences

Do(a)na(e) Lucinda :)

Η ιστορία που έγραψε η φίλη μου η (έτερη) Δανάη, και για κάποιον παράξενο λόγο, με ταύτισε εκ των υστέρων με την ηρωίδα Ö :)


H Δόνια Λουσίντα κι ο χαρτοπόλεμος

Ήταν ένα ηλιόλουστο μαγιάτικο πρωινό όταν η Δόνια Λουσίντα ξύπνησε κι αποφάσισε ότι δεν μπορεί να ζει άλλο έτσι.


“Ξυπνήστε, ξυπνήστε τεμπέλικα!” φώναξε γελαστή, σκίζοντας με ένα κουζινομάχαιρο τις λουλουδάτες κουρτίνες.
“Τι κάνεις εκεί, μαμά;” ρώτησε απορημένος ο Αλβάρο, με τα ξανθά του μαλλάκια να κρύβουν ακόμη τα μάτια του.
“Αφήνω το φως να μπει μέσα, αγάπη μου!” του απάντησε εκείνη, πιο λαμπερή κι από τον πρωινό ήλιο.
“Να σε βοηθήσω, μαμά;” ρώτησε κι η Καταρίνα, ετών πέντε, καθώς πεταγόταν από το κρεβατάκι της γρήγορη σαν ελαφάκι.

Η Δόνια Λουσίντα έγνεψε “ναι” ενθουσιασμένη, και πέταξε ένα ακόμη μαχαίρι στα πόδια του κρεβατιού.

Αφού τελείωσαν με την παιδική κρεβατοκάμαρα, όρμησαν στριφογυρίζοντας στο σαλόνι. Τα μαχαίρια τώρα είχαν γίνει τρία, σε ισάριθμα χέρια, καθώς ο οκτάχρονος Αλβάρο είχε αποφασίσει ότι δεν ήταν πρέπον να μην συμμετάσχει και ο άντρας του σπιτιού.

“Τα κάδρα, τα κάδρα!” έδειξε στα παιδιά η Δόνια Λουσίντα.
Οι δυο μικροί πολεμιστές επιτέθηκαν στους πίνακες με ξεχωριστό ζήλο, μπήγοντας, σκίζοντας, τραβώντας σκηνές κυνηγιού και όμορφα, συμμετρικά πρόσωπα.

“Μαμά, τι είναι αυτές οι ζωγραφιές πίσω από τους πίνακες;”
“Σφραγίδες, Καταρίνα. Μαγικές. Τις είχε φτιάξει ο πατέρας σας για προστασία.”
“Πού είναι ο πατέρας τώρα, μαμά;” ρώτησε ο Αλβάρο, για άλλη μια φορά.
“Όχι εδώ!” του απάντησε η Δόνια Λουσίντα, ενώ έβγαζε προσεκτικά με το μαχαίρι της το κόκκινο χαρτόνι με τη σφραγίδα από πάνω.

Λίγο αργότερα, όλοι κρατούσαν στα χέρια τους από δύο χαρτόνια με τις σφραγίδες του Δον Γκαλάν. “Μην αφήσεις να τις δει κανείς, μην τις βγάλεις ποτέ”, της είχε πει, πριν φύγει για πάντα.
Χαρτόνια πράσινα, κόκκινα, γαλάζια και χρυσαφί. Κι ένα μαύρο.
“Θέλετε να φτιάξουμε χαρτοπόλεμο;” ρώτησε η Δόνια Λουσίντα.

Κι έφτιαξαν χαρτοπόλεμο. Έκοψαν, έσκισαν, κομμάτιασαν, γελώντας, στριφογύρισαν, γελώντας, πέταξαν τα κομμάτια ψηλά, γελώντας, και τότε άρχισαν να πετάνε και οι ίδιοι.

“Κοίτα μαμά, πετάω!” τσίριξε η Καταρίνα, τρελή από χαρά.
“Τι ωραία που είναι να ξαπλώνεις στο ταβάνι, μαμά!” φώναξε ο πάντα λίγο τεμπέλης Αλβάρο.

Τότε άρχισαν να σκοτεινιάζουν όλα.

“Οι Σκιές!” αναφώνησε η Δόνια Λουσίντα, και, σφίγγοντας το κουζινομάχαιρο στο δεξί της χέρι, είπε ψύχραιμα:
“Τώρα θα χορέψουμε.”

Κι άρχισαν να στριφογυρίζουν κι άλλο, πάντα στον αέρα, και δε φοβόντουσαν τις Σκιές. Η Δόνια Λουσίντα χτυπούσε με χάρη και περισσή ευλυγισία, γιατί παλιά, πριν γνωρίσει τον Δον Γκαλάν, ήταν χορεύτρια του Βασιλικού Θεάτρου. Ο Αλβάρο ήταν πιο βραδυκίνητος, αλλά είχε τρομακτική δύναμη και γενναιότητα στις κινήσεις του. Η δε Καταρίνα, μικρόσωμη σαν μαϊμουδάκι, ήταν η πιο γρήγορη από όλους και δεν έχανε στόχο.

Και χόρευαν και πετούσαν και πολεμούσαν.
Kι ο χαρτοπόλεμος ακόμη έπεφτε, σαν να μην τελείωνε ποτέ, πράσινος, κόκκινος, γαλάζιος και χρυσαφί. Και μαύρος.



Για πολύ καιρό μετά, ο επιθεωρητής της αστυνομίας Χόρχε Ντε Βίγια έσπαγε το κεφάλι του να καταλάβει τι έγινε στο σπίτι της Δόνια Λουσίντα και τα μέλη της μικρής οικογένειας σφαγιάστηκαν μεταξύ τους.
Ούτε η απάντηση της μικρής Καταρίνα, που ανέπνεε ακόμα όταν τους βρήκαν και την ρώτησαν τι έκαναν, υπήρξε διαφωτιστική:
“Χαρτοπόλεμο.”

(c) ~ThePookaWay

Mayakovsky's lament

You have been warned.

Suomen Sisu :)

Because Finns do it better. Puhutaan kaikki Suomea!

Sheer Naked Aggression!

One of the most *cult* industrial band of the 80s. The meaning of the SPK abbreviation is deliberately unclear; the album covers suggest several different alternatives. The most well known is Sozialistisches PatientenKollektiv, but there are also others, such as Surgical Penis Klinik, System Planning Korporation, SePuKku, Selective Pornography Kontrol, Special Programming Korps and SoliPsiK.

The band members met when they were both working at a Psychiatric Hospital. Where else!

And now, for something completely different

:)

Γαλής εγκώμιον

"Aν εξαιρέσωμεν τους νεοπλατωνικούς φιλοσόφους, δεν πιστεύω να υπάρχωσιν άλλα επί γης πλάσματα όσον οι γάτοι συκοφαντηθέντα.

Ως κατά πρόληψιν και κατά παράδοσιν κηρύττονται δεισιδαίμονες, οπτασιασταί, μυθολόγοι και ονειροπλέκται ο Πορφύριος, ο Ιάμβλιχος, ο Πρόκλος και ο Πλωτίνος, ούτω κακίζεται και πας γάτος ως δόλιος, άπιστος, αχάριστος και ανίκανος άλλο τι παρά τον εαυτόν του ν’ αγαπήση.

Και ως εις τα λεγόμενα ονείρατα των νεοπλατωνικών αντιτάσσεται η ασφαλής επιστήμη του Αριστοτέλους, ούτω και εις του γάτου την κακίαν αι παντοίαι του σκύλου αρεταί.

Καθ' όμοιον τρόπον κατηγορείται και ο γάτος, ότι δεν γλείφει τας χείρας του κυρίου του όταν αυτός τον δέρει, ότι δεν τρέχει άμα τον καλέση, ουδέ στέργει να φανή χρήσιμος κυνηγών δια λογαριασμόν του, φυλάσσων τα πρόβατα του, στρέφων επί της πυ­ράς τον οβελόν καί προπορευόμενος με φανάριον εις το στόμα, ή καν να τον διασκέδαση υπερπηδών ράβδους ή ορθούμενος εκ των οπισθίων ποδών.

Ταύτα είναι ακρι­βέστατα.

Ουδείς ποτέ ούτε δι’ αμοιβής ούτε δια ραβδισμών κατώρθωσε να επιβάλη εις γάτον να πράξη όσα πράττουσιν οι σκύλοι, οι δούλοι και οι γελωτοποιοί. "

Εμμανουήλ Ροΐδης: Ιστορία μίας γάτας

Dywedwch hynny unwaith eto, os gwelwch yn dda!!!

Omg, LOL!!!

Your end is our triumph, and the day will come:)

We are the final resistaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaance!!!!! :D

It's the end of the world, and the circle is closed:)

Second "artistic" attempt to create a video from scratch...again, mistakes, mistakes...but, oh well.

Audio: When We Murdered The World On The Fourteenth Of May, by Ordo Rosarius Equilibrio.

For those who need a light for the night

A clean, well lighted place, by Ernest Hemingway

"It is not only a question of youth and confidence although those things are very beautiful. Each night I am reluctant to close up because there may be some one who needs the cafe."

"Hombre, there are bodegas open all night long."

"You do not understand. This is a clean and pleasant cafe. It is well lighted. The light is very good and also, now, there are shadows of the leaves."

"Good night," said the younger waiter.

"Good night," the other said.

Turning off the electric light he continued the conversation with himself...

It was the light of course, but it is necessary that the place be clean and pleasant.

You do not want music. Certainly you do not want music.

Nor can you stand before a bar with dignity although that is all that isprovided for these hours.

What did he fear?

It was not a fear or dread, it was a nothing that he knew too well.

It was all anothing and a man was a nothing too.

It was only that, and light was all it needed and a certain cleanness and order.

Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it all was nada y pues nada y naday pues nada.

Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name thy kingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give us this nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada.

Hail nothing full of nothing, nothing is with thee.

He smiled and stood before a bar with a shining steam pressure coffee machine.

(...)

Now, without thinking further, he would go home to his room. He would lie in the bed and finally, with daylight, he would go to sleep. After all, he said to himself, it's probably only insomnia.

Many must have it.

Squeeze me till the sound comes out of me!

My first attempt to create a video out of thin air:)

Random photos, some mistakes, but, oh well...

Audio: "Evangelista I" by Carla Bozulich.

Blasphemy has never been funnier!

It's fun to stay at the YMCA!!

@ Avaton

A million thanks for the tech help :)

The sex in your soul will damn you to Hell :)

Life is a grave, and I DIG it! :)

Finnish paganism

1. "Like other pagan religions, Finnish paganism in its historical form was not a separate part of life like universal religions such as Christianity, but a whole way of living. Paganism was a collection of customs and beliefs concerning both supernatural and everyday things.

   Ancient Finnish pagan world view recognized many gods, guardian spirits (elves) and other spiritual entities. Different deities were recognized and worshipped in different locations and communities. Also, as time went on, the recognition gained by some gods grow, while the importance of others diminished. For this simple reason, it would be absurd to try to create Christian-like dogma for Finnish paganism. There is no doubt that even the pre-Christian pagans themselves would find it extremely illogical."

An excellent article on the indigenous spirituality of the Finns. Click here for the link. :)

The concept of time in Hinduism

"Now you are burning inside of me"

Eivør Pálsdóttir singing in one of the coolest languages of the whole world. An angel from the Faroe Islands:)

Kinky sex... :)

...it is all about being imaginative :)

Εκεί που τελειώνει η μοναξιά, αρχίζει η αγορά...

II. THE FLIES IN THE MARKET-PLACE.
Flee, my friend, into thy solitude! I see thee deafened with the noise of the great men, and stung all over with the stings of the little ones.

Admirably do forest and rock know how to be silent with thee. Resemble again the tree which thou lovest, the broad-branched one--silently and attentively it o'erhangeth the sea.

Where solitude endeth, there beginneth the market-place; and where the market-place beginneth, there beginneth also the noise of the great actors, and the buzzing of the poison-flies.

In the world even the best things are worthless without those who represent them: those representers, the people call great men.

Little do the people understand what is great--that is to say, the creating agency. But they have a taste for all representers and actors of great things.

Around the devisers of new values revolveth the world:--invisibly it revolveth. But around the actors revolve the people and the glory: such is the course of things.

Spirit, hath the actor, but little conscience of the spirit. He believeth always in that wherewith he maketh believe most strongly--in HIMSELF!

Tomorrow he hath a new belief, and the day after, one still newer. Sharp perceptions hath he, like the people, and changeable humours.

To upset--that meaneth with him to prove. To drive mad--that meaneth with him to convince. And blood is counted by him as the best of all arguments.

A truth which only glideth into fine ears, he calleth falsehood and trumpery. Verily, he believeth only in Gods that make a great noise in the world!

Full of clattering buffoons is the market-place,--and the people glory in their great men! These are for them the masters of the hour.

But the hour presseth them; so they press thee. And also from thee they want Yea or Nay. Alas! thou wouldst set thy chair betwixt For and Against?

On account of those absolute and impatient ones, be not jealous, thou lover of truth! Never yet did truth cling to the arm of an absolute one.

On account of those abrupt ones, return into thy security: only in the market-place is one assailed by Yea? or Nay?

Slow is the experience of all deep fountains: long have they to wait until they know WHAT hath fallen into their depths.

Away from the market-place and from fame taketh place all that is great: away from the market-Place and from fame have ever dwelt the devisers of new values.

Flee, my friend, into thy solitude: I see thee stung all over by the poisonous flies. Flee thither, where a rough, strong breeze bloweth!

Flee into thy solitude! Thou hast lived too closely to the small and the pitiable. Flee from their invisible vengeance! Towards thee they have nothing but vengeance.

Raise no longer an arm against them! Innumerable are they, and it is not thy lot to be a fly-flap.

Innumerable are the small and pitiable ones; and of many a proud structure, rain-drops and weeds have been the ruin.

Thou art not stone; but already hast thou become hollow by the numerous drops. Thou wilt yet break and burst by the numerous drops.

Exhausted I see thee, by poisonous flies; bleeding I see thee, and torn at a hundred spots; and thy pride will not even upbraid.

Blood they would have from thee in all innocence; blood their bloodless souls crave for--and they sting, therefore, in all innocence.

But thou, profound one, thou sufferest too profoundly even from small wounds; and ere thou hadst recovered, the same poison-worm crawled over thy hand.

Too proud art thou to kill these sweet-tooths. But take care lest it be thy fate to suffer all their poisonous injustice!

They buzz around thee also with their praise: obtrusiveness, is their praise. They want to be close to thy skin and thy blood.

They flatter thee, as one flattereth a God or devil; they whimper before thee, as before a God or devil. What doth it come to! Flatterers are they, and whimperers, and nothing more.

Often, also, do they show themselves to thee as amiable ones. But that hath ever been the prudence of the cowardly. Yea! the cowardly are wise!

They think much about thee with their circumscribed souls--thou art always suspected by them! Whatever is much thought about is at last thought suspicious.

They punish thee for all thy virtues. They pardon thee in their inmost hearts only--for thine errors.

Because thou art gentle and of upright character, thou sayest: "Blameless are they for their small existence." But their circumscribed souls think: "Blamable is all great existence."

Even when thou art gentle towards them, they still feel themselves despised by thee; and they repay thy beneficence with secret maleficence.

Thy silent pride is always counter to their taste; they rejoice if once thou be humble enough to be frivolous.

What we recognise in a man, we also irritate in him. Therefore be on your guard against the small ones!

In thy presence they feel themselves small, and their baseness gleameth and gloweth against thee in invisible vengeance.

Sawest thou not how often they became dumb when thou approachedst them, and how their energy left them like the smoke of an extinguishing fire?

Yea, my friend, the bad conscience art thou of thy neighbours; for they are unworthy of thee. Therefore they hate thee, and would fain suck thy blood.

Thy neighbours will always be poisonous flies; what is great in thee--that itself must make them more poisonous, and always more fly-like.

Flee, my friend, into thy solitude--and thither, where a rough strong breeze bloweth. It is not thy lot to be a fly-flap!

Thus spake Zarathustra.

***My favorite passage from Zarathustra, ever.
Actually, I don't know how I could have made it through hard times without it.*

Two kids playing hide & seek? Or a zombie out to get her? :)

The more humans I meet, the more I love dogs :)

Especially if they keep me company on a sunny Sunday morning after a delightful hangover :)

Verloren, ach v e r l o r e n !!!!

Jiva Mukta

One of the most interesting concepts of the Advaita Vedānta philosophical school, is the notion of liberation from the cycle of reincarnation while still living in a human body. This, called Jiva Mukta, is the process whereby one can achieve a state of mokṣa (I am pretty sure this is the equivalent of Nirvana for the Buddhists) by gradually clearing the soul from Māyā, i.e. deception, or the complex illusory power of God, the Supreme Cosmic Spirit, or Brahman, which causes the Brahman to be seen as the material world of separate forms.

If one can break free from Māyā, which manifests itself through the senses, then one, by realizing one's oneness with the Brahman, becomes one with the Brahman and liberates oneself from the cycle of reincarnation while still in life.
To make a long story short, if you "die" before you die, you won't "die" when you die :)

The notion appears also in Shaiva Tantra in which the soul is seen as a mirror or a window that is dirty with mālas (impurities, dirt, or fine dust) which do not allow the light of Shiva, or the ultimate truth, to shine through.

Mālas manifest themselves in three basic forms:
ānavamala, the sense of self; the notion of being separate and distinct from God and the universe (pretty much the same term as maya-avidya in Vedantic philosophy).
maya mala, (or mayiya mala), the sense of duality, the material cause of the universe; the soul-body experience and limited spiritual knowledge in this world.
karma mala, the impurity of karma.

To liberate one's soul is to gradually, and through the process of various techniques, "clean" the mirror from impurities and let the light of Shiva shine through. It is a self-enlightment process that leads to the ultimate realization that is Shivoham, I am Shiva!

Mano budhyahankara chithaa ninaham,

Na cha srothra jihwe na cha graana nethrer,

Na cha vyoma bhoomir na thejo na vayu,

Chidananada Roopa Shivoham, Shivoham.

Neither am I mind, nor intelligence , Nor ego, nor thought, Nor am I ears or the tongue or the nose or the eyes, Nor am I earth or sky or air or the light, I am Shiva, I am Shiva, of nature knowledge and bliss!

Aham nirvi kalpo nirakara roopo,
Vibhuthwascha sarvathra sarvendriyanaam,
Na chaa sangatham naiva mukthir na meyah
Chidananada Roopa Shivoham, Shivoham.

I am one without doubts , I am without form, Due to knowledge I do not have any relation with my organs, And I am always redeemed, I am Shiva, I am Shiva, of nature knowledge and bliss!!

Proof of the cultural connection between Greeks and Finns :)

.......The City of Dreadful Night........

O melancholy Brothers, dark, dark, dark!
O battling in black floods without an ark!
O spectral wanderers of unholy Night!
My soul hath bled for you these sunless years,
With bitter blood-drops running down like tears:
Oh dark, dark, dark, withdrawn from joy and light!

My heart is sick with anguish for your bale;
Your woe hath been my anguish; yea, I quail
And perish in your perishing unblest.
And I have searched the highths and depths, the scope
Of all our universe, with desperate hope
To find some solace for your wild unrest.

And now at last authentic word I bring,
Witnessed by every dead and living thing;
Good tidings of great joy for you, for all:
There is no God; no Fiend with names divine
Made us and tortures us; if we must pine,
It is to satiate no Being's gall.

It was the dark delusion of a dream,
That living Person conscious and supreme,
Whom we must curse for cursing us with life;
Whom we must curse because the life he gave
Could not be buried in the quiet grave,
Could not be killed by poison or the knife.

Artwork by yours truly. Click here for the full poem by James Thomson.

Diapsalmata

My grief is my castle, which lies like an eagle’s nest high up on the mountain peaks among the clouds; nothing can storm it down.

From it I fly down into reality to seize my prey; but I do not stay there, I bring it back home, and is an image of this prey that I weave into the tapestries of my palace.

There, I live as one already dead.

I immerse everything I have experienced in a baptism of forgetfulness unto an eternal remembrance. Everything finite and accidental is forgotten and erased.
Then I sit like an old man, grey-haired and thoughtful, and explain the pictures in a voice as soft as a whisper; and at my side a child sits and listens, although he remembers everything before I tell it.

Søren Kierkegaard

Fire...

Yes, I know from where I come!
Insatiable like the fire Do I glow, consume myself.
Light is everything that I seize,
Ashes everything that I leave:
Fire am I without fail.

F. Nietzsche

(artwork by Belborn -R.I.P.)

Dead, but dreaming... :)

Η σοφία του σκύλου μπροστά στην ηλιθιότητα του ανθρώπου

"Οι περισσότεροι επαΐοντες στις οικονομικές και κοινωνιολογικές επιστήμες θεωρούν πως ένα τέτοιο οργανωτικό κατασκεύασμα, όπως μια πόλη, θα ήταν αδύνατο να υπάρχει, όχι μόνον από οικονομικής σκοπιάς, αλλά και από κοινωνιολογικής και ψυχολογικής.

Κανένα πλάσμα με το υψηλά εξελιγμένο νευρικό σύστημα που είναι αναγκαίο για την ύπαρξη ενός πολιτισμού, επισημαίνουν, δε θα μπορούσε να επιβιώσει μέσα σε τόσο περιοριστικά μέτρα.

Το αποτέλεσμα, αν το επιχειρούσαν, υπογραμμίζουν οι ειδικοί αυτοί, θα οδηγούσε σε μια κατάσταση μαζικής νεύρωσης, που σύντομα θα κατέστρεφε αυτόν τον ίδιο τον πολιτισμό που δημιούργησε την πόλη!"

Σε μια μακρινή εποχή, όπου ο ανθρώπινος πολιτισμός έχει καταρρεύσει κάτω από το ίδιο του το βάρος και το είδος μας έχει εκλείψει, οι σκύλοι - μελετητές προσπαθούν να αναλύσουν την αληθοφάνεια των θρύλων που έχουν διασωθεί σχετικά με την ύπαρξη του ανθρώπινου είδους.
Σύμφωνα με τη λογική, καταλήγουν στο συμπέρασμα πως πρόκειται για μυθοπλασία και πως ο Άνθρωπος δεν υπήρξε ποτέ...για τον απλούστατο λόγο, πως αποκλείεται να ήταν τόσο η λ ί θ ι ο ς !

Από το βιβλίο του Clifford Simak, "Πόλη", εκδόσεις Locus 7.

Elling

It's no secret that Elling and his buddy Kjell Bjarne have stolen my heart. They are adorable characters. Looking at them, I see elements of so many people I know (that must not be a good thing!).

I first saw Elsk meg i morgen at a Scandinavian film festival in Athens. I instantly 'fell' in love with the simplicity and the mundane adorability of the characters. They could be my neighbors next door (literally) and yet, Petter Næss makes them look so deep and multidimensional, that every trivial, ritualistic task of their everyday lives, becomes a new adventure. All those things we take for granted, to them they are like battlefields that need to be conquered.

I cracked up to the point of having tears in my eyes with Elling's reaction in the library, when he was laughing aloud at the statistics of how many Americans suffer from post-traumatic stress because of their belief that they have been abducted by alien UFOs:D

Days later, I laughed hysterically at Elling's reaction when he saw "the view at the mediterrenean" from his hotel room in Spain in the prequel Mors Elling (2003), where we actually also see Elling's mom appearing in the film, with Elling as a comical/satyrical version of Norman Bates in the norwegian "Psycho", taking place in a cheap, second-class mediterranean tourist destination for scandinavian pensioners...Surreal!!

I have seen so many Hollywood comedies that try too hard to make you laugh, and yet nothing comes across as spontaneously hilarious as the reaction of an unsuspecting Scandinavian who stands shocked before the view of the dirty little alley, full of empty beer cans, garbage and cat excrements, in the back of his hotel room, the one that was descrived as "view at the mediterranean" in the tourist brochures.

Click here for the trailer of the third part of the trilogy. Skål til Helvete!!

Between Heaven and Earth

Living in a city full of ancient ruins, one would have thought that it is hard to get impressed by modern art. And yet this statue is literally to die for; located somewhere in Kifisias avenue, the sculpture sits on a small pool of black, murky water. The pillar is divided into seven segments, the seventh segment being underwater. The sculpture depicts two fallen angels landing on an earth-like sphere. There's other really bizarre symbols and engravings on a wall near by, or at least, there used to be. Surely now they will be carefully concealed with garbage and dog shit.

Abandon hope all ye who enter here! (disclaimer:) )

Okay, so I decided to create my very own online psychological spit bucket. Let's see how this goes. The way I see it, this is more like stream-of-consciousness writing, without specific form or purpose. Or merely my memoirs from the frivolous, lovely, godless, lascivious dominion of Sin:) Unless you're my mom, in which case this is a really boring blog where I post pictures of faeries and unicorns and shit.