Seeking the Dark Tower

On the path that eventually leads to the clearing in the woods, the Charyou Tree. Fraught with danger, fear and loss, and yet, fulfillment. Welcome.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

NOT A CHANCE, CHUM: Ellen Muth

In today's episode of NOT A CHANCE CHUM, we look at ELLEN MUTH, or better known for her dead-girl-reaper character Georgia 'George' L. Lass in 'Dead like me'!



Aint she a beaut? That intense stare melts plastisteel like so much butter, while those pouty lips are just so _____able. Defiance is all in her! Look at the cocked shoes with the simple floral design. All grrrrrrrrrrll and more sass! Her low (slightly) nasal tone can only add more to her saucy effect. Words are inadequte for her uncommon beauty. That steely gaze bears intelligence too, she being a Mensa member (hey hey so am i! wowie! chalk one similarity!). She collects burmese cats! actually i love burmese cats too. I really do! i love their er pelts - really lovely. Really. Anyway, she drives and races an SS, well, i drove and raced a jeep (well... illegally). Shes a Pisces just like me, and im just 2 years shy of her age. But since when does age matter? She looks a sweet 19! Starting since young, her acting careers is admirable, having played selena in 'Dolores Claiborne', and winning an award for that. She clinched another award in 1999 for 'The girl and the hurricane', an indie film where she plays a rebellious teen. Rebel ahead, Miss Muth!

In DLM character, she plays a 18 year old girl who dies on her 1st day of work - killed by falling space debris from the decaying Mir space station. A Zero-Gee Toilet bowl, to be exact. After she getting blowed up, she's recruited as a reaper.

Newest (and cutest) reaper on the block - stunned from an obviously unglamorous death.

Reapers take the souls of those who are about to die, and help ease the transition for the dead to their 'further destinations'. That she's dead dont mean her body's dead - she's still full of young fire, and gets into a hitch quite a few times in the series. In 'Send in the clowns', after having her finger ripped off by the paper shredder, she feigns faintness so that her dumb-as-a-doornail but 'hot' (he dont look that hot to me... nyeh) co-worker 'rescues' her, all for a little office politiking. What would i give for just that cameo role. Heck - ill even play a cameo for free as one of her reaps.

Look at her sweet innocence blowing bubbles. ooh. perfection. I give her a 9.99/10. These pictures are not so much for you as it is for me to look dreamily each time i visit my own space. I would die to talk and talk and dive into those eyes and get lost in those lips and...

you get the picture.

If you havent watched Dead Like Me, hustle down to your nearest video stall and rent it out now (better yet buy it). Its not just eye candy - the series is hilarious and thoughtful enough to have you asking for seconds. But of course if you do manage to get me a George poster pinup i will be eternally grateful and be your bitch for a day.

I know i will die one day, and all i wish for is to have George as my reaper. But of course, its NOT A CHANCE, CHUM.

Right folks - here's where you poll. Now you've seen how astoundingly wonderful Ellem Muth is, vote how well YC will do in getting a date with her - the poll's on your right! Vote now, and leave all your encouragements and congratulations on how superb YC would pull it off in the comments section.

Thus concludes the 1st episode of the not a chance series. Stay tuned.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Oh yeah...

By the way, dont you love brits?
I absolutely adore them. Here's one.


The reaper Mason from 'dead like me'. Absoutely british, in fact VINTAGE brit rock of the 60s. that means lots of hair, bad hygiene, worse breath, and absolutely British manners. Which means horrible, disgusting.

- yc out

Saturday, May 06, 2006

trained flies

I realise that its too soon to complain about my state of listlessness, my holidays are now suddenly packed full with the impending ISMS, PLURAL. And no rest. I do realise its fatigue eating away at my bones, but what can i do?
A simple wish of curling up for a few days at home or on a beach with NO homo sapiens around might be too much to ask for. To do something non-work related, to squander away time legally, and happily, and not with the constant axe above your neck.

At least im going to be doing what i like. The happiness was palpable when the boss finally answered that nagging question - is this material paper-worthy? YES. I have a goal now.
And Doc Don, ever the nicest prof ever, has been so accomodating to my requests and sent me home with a few readings to help me along the biosemiotic way - id been looking for Temple Gradin's Animals in Translation for so long and now its dumped right on my lap. Gradin, being a rahter severe autistic woman, is able to see what the animals percieve better than the general homo populace. In short, she provides a very objective view on the subjectivities that science so much shuns. A new perspective here on ethology and behaviour would do nicely right now. Grin. One more book to devour.

And speaking of beahviour, lookit this:



Eyebrow twitchy isnt it? My take? the flies are drugged. If you'll notice, all the flies have their probisci fully extended - very unnatural - i only see this when they get doused in alcohol. They look rather sluggish too. All flies move darn fast, and especially for this fly, a tabanus, or horse fly, is a blood sucker on (you guessed it) horses. Since horse tail makes a mighty good fly swatter so you'll bet their reflexes are lightning. Only now in this clip, you see them behaving like ineberated men.

Oh i do hate that silly jap guy eyes a-bulging going OOOO OOOO OOOO like it was some midget giving birth to elephant kind of scene. Damn japs.

Anyway, i'd say the turn-around was probly caused by either some physical trick (pulled by strings or blown down - im betting on that), or that the flies in their drugged state react to the finger and the shadows cast by the finger. From here on it gets easy - the playing with the balls is just the fly's motor-reflex to walk, hence rolling the ball around like any good circus bear.

So in the end, id bet the fly is in alot of discomfort and probably pain if it could feel it - extension of the probisci say as much. As ive always said, japs are wierd. Sick ol lady. We'll see what beachball you'll be rolling around, with your tongue permanently sticking out of your lockjaw, after we drug you wont we?

nyeh.
yc out

Friday, May 05, 2006

want to be a rancher?

back then you had deadlines to drive you on, now its just up to your internal reserves of self determination - i do hate that. sigh. things that ought to be done, in the immediate future:

....

now im at a loss

himalayas prep, talk to fayeth on regarding supplies
finalise chalet stuff
ism with doc don
ism with prof (which is a bitch)
grant from usp for fukuoka
plan itinerary for bintan trip

and half a million other things that will nip me in the butt in no time.

muse: dont kid yourself dont fool yourself this life was too good to last.
Im coughing alot less but nonetheless i feel like my lungs are in rot or something - its refusing to go away. I might get lucky and die, i guess. Of course, i wouldnt want that till ive expereinced all the wonders of the seven seas and beyond, so i guess im still stuck with the choice of life. Its beginning to become a real drag. Asked a friend last night if she'd want to live in the rustic country, complete with grit and all. Rancher style. Like those in Montana. Beautiful sunrises, stunnign sunsets. Snow in the winter, flowers in the summer. Milking cows and collecting eggs each morning. Bringing the cattle out to graze. Shooting the cayotes. Shearing each year. Driving down to rodeo each year. Repeat. The same, the same. She said id be good for a while but the monotony would eventually kill. Hell is a special kind of stagnation and languishing. I was left pondering with that the entire night - its more been a case of me driving myself onwards all the time since the more recent part of my life. Just following the signs, maam. If it really came down to the beautiful monotony and simplicity, i doubt id have a problem with that in the end. Id just sink back in. And that souless stare. Lord knows ive been there before, for a long long time. I dont know if i want to go back. And maybe i do. And not.

I've got so much to do, but id infinitely rather sit down and rot in my room reading a book maybe a whole series, food can wait, sleep can come, id be prefering to rot and not do anything but hating no loathing it immensly all at the same time. So many feelings, wow. Gah.

yc out.