jolly roger

black shuck

so there’s this cemetery my friend likes to drive through/park in (she’s a scorpio). we were hanging out yesterday and she decided to park there for a little while. i’ve been there a few times with her and she always muses aloud about these strange little wooden silhouettes of ‘coyotes.’ ‘what are they doing here? that’d be cute in, like, Arizona or something…’ so i said to her, ‘how do you know they’re coyotes?’ she said she didn’t, they just looked like it. i had never really paid attention to them before, but suddenly it dawned on me what they must be. i asked her if she’d ever heard about Black Shuck, the ghostly dogs that are sometimes seen in graveyards. she said she hadn’t. so i told her about them. they have many names (grim, shag, padfoot, gwyllgi, hellhound, gytrash, etc), and many superstitions surround them. they are almost universally described as large, shaggy black dogs with glowing red eyes and a piercing stare. my friend was doing something on her smartphone while she listened to me, but when i mentioned that last part, her head whipped around and she stared at me with wide eyes as i told her the rest. they are considered guardians of the churchyard, punishers of the wicked, or omens of death, and are variably evil, benevolent, or neutral. they appear out of nowhere and occasionally give chase before disappearing just as suddenly. she asked me if they were only seen in graveyards. i told her no. usually but not always. she then explained to me that the mention of glowing red eyes brought back a memory of a large black dog that she would see standing by her grandparents’ bed when she visited overnight. it would just stand there staring, and she felt so intimidated by it that she wouldn’t even get up to use the bathroom until morning. a google map search revealed that her grandparents’ house was 5 miles away from a cemetery. i asked her if there were any deaths in the family around that time. she said no. but she did mention that her grandfather passed away about a decade later after a long sickness. i asked her if she stopped seeing it eventually. she said yes, it went away after her grandfather got sick.
jolly roger

hey all.

i've been blatantly ignoring my LJ in favor of tumblr... but i don't want this to become another internet corpse. i like my LJ. and i have things to say that feel like they belong here.
like how i haven't known what to do with myself lately. i haven't gotten any real work done, my sewing machine is just sitting there, staring at me. idk. i suck. i have ideas, but not ones i can make happen right now... and i'm just feeling really stuck. i need to take a hard look at myself and figure out wtf is wrong with me.
the leaves are gone from the trees. it's looking disturbingly like winter again. i'm not ready.
but that's life, isn't it?
  • Current Mood
    blah blah

Hello World,

i’m fat. i wear size 18/20 jeans. i’m squishy. i wear a 40D bra. my thighs touch.
i have taken abuse for being fat, just like every other fat person in the USA. for years i was insecure about it. but in recent years i’ve been taking my body back. i do not consider myself to be pretty, but i am not under the illusion that being thinner would make me pretty.
also, i am not unhealthy. i do not eat a steady diet of nothing but cheeseburgers and junk food. being fat does not equal being unhealthy like everyone wants us to believe. people want to believe that being fat automatically makes one unhealthy so that they can feel justified in the persecution of fat people. fat hate is a form of prejudice that goes almost completely unchallenged and is in fact supported by society and the media.
being fat is a part of who i am, but it does not define my existence. i am a fat chick, but that is not all i am. i’m a complete human being, with plenty of quirks and qualities that are completely unrelated to my squishiness.
then again, many of my quirks and qualites ARE related to living a life of squishiness- for example:
-a general immunity to being called ugly, and other petty insults
-a certain degree of empathy towards anyone who has been treated unfairly
-a personal code that involves a refusal to bully people and/or act like a superior bitch and/or walk around acting like my shit doesn’t stink
-et cetera.

i won’t lie and say i still don’t have issues accepting my body the way it is.
but i’ve never had a problem accepting anyone else’s body the way it is.

i don’t look at anyone else’s body and instantly form an opinion on how they should or shouldn’t change it. i know i have no right to impose my own standards/insecurities/hangups on them. i know i have no right to tell a person what to do with their body. and i don’t want those rights either.

furthermore, i don’t think fat is ugly.
i am fat.
i am not ugly because of it.

my boyfriend is fat.
my best friend is fat.
my sister is fat.
my mom is fat.
none of them are ugly.
all of them are beautiful.

you might want to rebut my statement by saying my views of their physical beauty is contaminated by my feelings for them. while it may be true that, because i love them all so dearly, i could never see any of them as ugly, i did think my boyfriend and best friend were beautiful before i knew them.
that’s number one.
number two, there are plenty of fat, beautiful strangers out there. you yourself may be one of them.

then again, you may be one of the people who will look at one of the many beautiful fat people i know and call them disgusting, and make jugdgements about not only their eating/excersizing habits, but their personalities and general worth. while that, understandably, pisses me off to a horrific degree, i am willing to keep my shit together and not bitch anyone out unless something nasty is said or done. sound fair? good.

i am not willing, however, to keep my mouth shut about this issue- because whenever i see fat hate, i see red. when you talk shit about fat people, you are talking shit about:
*my boyfriend
*my best friend
*my sister
*my mom
*plenty of other awesome people
and that is not fucking okay.

let’s say, for example, your sister has a fake tan.
i find them unattractive.
i say something like, “eew i saw some fake’n’bake bitch at the mall today, what a skank, doesn’t she know that shit will give her skin cancer? dirty cunt. i bet she has herpes. ugly orange oompa loompa. she needs to go kill herself.”
how does that make you feel?
does that make you want to punch my teeth down my throat?
now, i would never say anything like that.
and i wouldn’t be thinking it, either.
that was just something i dreamed up, based on the kind of nasty shit i’ve heard and/or read that assholes say about fat people.

kindly think about that the next time you open your mouth to spew shit about fatness.


ps: don’t call me “obese,” i’m chunky not diseased. i’m officially taking back the word “fat.” it’s an adjective, not an insult in and of itself.


poem: one more time

one more time
seven years later, my eyes blur with tears and i have to put the needle down. i've already stabbed myself with it once.  i push the sewing aside and let myself cry.

i can still see it so clearly in my mind, the big arched doorway, #2504. i haven't been to Queens in years, but i can feel the marble steps beneath my feet, i can hear the echo as i run upstairs. i can see the no smoking sign, and i can smell the cigarettes leaking out into the hallway. i can see your doorway, Nanny, and i'll never walk through it again. instead, i walk through the memory- still so alive. i touch the molding, i see the spots where paint dripped down and dried that way, i run my fingers over it. i walk into your kitchen, i see the butcher block table and the green 'fridge i know aren't there anymore. i see you sitting with your back to the stove. i see a pack of winstons.

i just want to hug you one more time. i can smell your clothes, i can feel your arms around me, i can hear your voice, calling me pet names i haven't heard for seven years.


what i wouldn't give just to be there one more time...

here is another poem- one i wrote seven years ago:

Mom always told us not to run on the marble steps; sometimes we just couldn't help ourselves.

(written today. also posted on, will go up on soon.)



Vanessa's bday party was awesome. much fun! =) i got drunk for the first time in... a while. in fact, the last time i was that drunk (which doesn't even qualify as 'smashed,' i don't drink much) was at one of Vanessa's previous birthday parties. the one where we sat around telling dead baby jokes... aaaaaaaaahahaha XD awful but hilarious.

we also brought Jenny & Laura, and i insisted on buying Jenny a drink... in fact i badgered her into letting me buy her a magic hat. then Brian bought her another one later on. he's a sweetheart. but yanno, it was Vanessa's bday, she had to have at least one on Nessa's bday. it was so much fun... we talked, sang with the jukebox, laughed... i even played darts with the birthday girl herself. i did pretty good for being drunk and uncoordinated. the first time i didn't even make the dart board... but after that i was actually doing well. i even got bullseye once.

and i got to give Vanessa her bag finally, the one i made from her jeans and t-shirts. she really liked it, which made me happy. a lot of people were impressed with it, which aside from making me a little self-conscious (i don't really know how to deal with compliments) was a huge relief, 'cause i worry about shit.

working on a new crop of reconstructed denim purses and messenger bags. coming along well; finishing on average one every couple days. some of them i'm really proud of. well, i try not to make shitty ones... only time will tell i guess. i am still debating what to do with that spiderman flannel i scored in the remnant bin- i'm thinkin' i might use that one for myself. i have some grey corduroy that used to be a pair of my pants; and i really miss my tiny brown corduroy purse. i wonder what happened to that thing? i might make a new one to replace it... not sure. but it's no rush; i got time.

in other news, Jenny started me on a huge Metalocalypse kick. and when i say huge, i mean hulking, gigantimungous, fuckin' gargantuan.

i Murderface so much... 

oh, Willie. XD

& ,

On George's Birthday

So George's birthday is officially coming to an end... in just a couple hours it will be over... and before it is, i just feel compelled to share how i feel about his music. of course i love it; i've been madly in love with the Beatles since i was a wee little tyke... Sgt. Pepper was the lone Beatles record my parents had, and i had them play the hell out of it for me, until i was old enough to play the hell out of it myself. i never looked back... to this day, Within You Without You is my favorite Beatlesong of them all. hearing it is like coming home. i've always been partial to his compositions... listening to them, i can feel my heart opening like the petals of a flower. life is a little more beautiful with his music playing. i love his lyrics dearly, they mean so much to me... and the music? well that goes without saying. so thank you, George Harrison, for being the great artist that you were, and undoubtedly still are, wherever your soul is now. ♥♥♥ forever.

jolly roger

Ramble #2165654785-F

sooo. i went to sleep with a weird feeling last night. woke up with it still. idunno what it is. it could be a combination of things... missing Jenny (who is on vacation- good for her though, she deserves it), missing my sister (i know it's been a long time since she moved but i'm never not gonna miss her), crazy people skulking around (okay only one... she's like Gollum trailing after Frodo and Sam in the darkness, except she never helped anybody), the packages i bundled up for my sister that NO ONE HAS MAILED and she'll be lucky to get the birthday gift i labored at before her NEXT birthday...

i've been working, but i haven't been selling anything, and i still don't have any money. i mean, i haven't been trying to sell stuff, i've been trying to pile up merchandise. my brother has my last 'crop' of reconstructed bags in his store, i'm not sure how they're selling. the last time i saw him was on his birthday at his new band's show, and it didn't come up. he has spoken to me about some big flea market that he wants to get a booth at (for my stuff). so i'm piling up the merch. i really don't know what i'm doing but if i can pile up enough stuff maybe i can make something happen soon. i feel like the ball will start rolling eventually.

i've been writing more poetry lately. some lyric stuff, which is unusual for me. i usually write freeform. not complaining though. i enjoy reading lyric poetry; why shouldn't i write some? the latest i've been working on is a silly, whimsical thing that i started after reading a lot of Edward Lear one night. i wish i could write such lovely nonsense. nonsense is sorely underappreciated, i think. it's such fun. i feel like so many people don't "get" that Alice In Wonderland And Through The Looking Glass is nonsense literature. it HAS no plot. it's a work of genius; how many people that you know can write a book of pretty nonsense, like a long dream, and have it be one of the best known chidren's books ever? no, i'm wrong, certainly it is THE best known, along with being the first; and it's been reinterpreted and reinvented a million times over. it's THOSE things that have plots- like the new movie and that miniseries that was on Syfy (ugh, i hate calling that channel 'syfy.' it's goddam scifi, it used to be cool when it was still scifi. :minirant:). i've loved that book all my life, and the sheer VOLUME of people who whinged about the Johnny Depp movie "not following the plot of the book" made me want to pound my head on a stucco wall until i went into a coma. for fuck's sake, did you even READ the book?? No. you wanted a goddamn live-action version of the Disney CARTOON movie... :sigh:

but i'm going off-topic.

oh shit, i forgot, you have to have a topic before you go off it. i guess i'm still good then. mmm, orange juice. orange juice is scrummy. so is pineapple juice- and it's even better for a cold (just got over one, that's all i drank, day in and day out).

i may look into how etsy works. does anyone use it? know if it's good?

peace & peaseblossoms...
♥- Kathleen.

ps: i wonder if the skulker is reading my LJ? it's linked on my twitter, which i know she's reading. if you are reading this, seriously, get some help. all you're doing is alienating everyone. you've burnt every bridge you have. is it doing you any good? is it making you happy?

pps: working on a messenger bag next! faded denim, flannel liner w/ a gingham check. not sure if i'm gonna go with clips or buttons to close the front though. we'll see how it goes.

ppps: HAHA FOOLED YOU! i wasn't counting the Rambles at all!!!

  • Current Music
    mumford & sons
  • Tags
me again

poem: "You"

Your smile is more enchanting than the moon in waxing crescent,
if your glow was any brighter you'd be bio-luminescent,
your body is a temple, let me worship at your altar-
if Venus died of jealousy I couldn't really fault her.

Your beauty is eternal like an ancient golden statue,
the stars are falling from the sky just so they can gaze up at you-
landing at your feet like roses thrown by horny angels;
when they see you they can't help but melt like rainbow-dripping candles.

The sun is only shining for the chance to touch your face,
the world is only turning so that it can match your pace.
The wind is only blowing to lift up your lovely name,
and carry it aloft to echo everywhere your fame.

No fire burns but it burns for you
No rain falls but it falls for you
No tree grows but to shelter you
You are all, and all is you.

Platinum's just a metal, gold and silver too,
a diamond's just a rock, and purple but a hue,
song is just a noise, and dance is just some moves,
nectar's just a drink, ambrosia's just a food,

tears are just some water, joy is just a mood,
Heaven's just a place, and Shangri-La is too.
Eternity is fleeting, but what is one to do?
In a world made of illusions, you are all that's true.

weirdly, i had no one specific in mind when i thought this up. my goal was to have a poem of love or admiration that anyone could apply to anyone. i guess it'd be more fitting applied to a woman, with the reference to Venus, goddess of beauty and love... but whatever.

anyway. you like? anything weird or not up to par? i hope this one's finished.

also posted on deviantART and

  • Current Mood
    creative creative
  • Tags

silver stitches

last night me and brian got to hang out with Jenny and Vanessa. it is always great to see Vanessa- and i got a chance to show her the progres on her bag in person, and measure the strap on her. she's really excited about it, which makes me happy. i always want to please the customer (although this bag, like the one i made Jenny, is pro-bono... i could never charge my friends). the decorative stitching looks great in the color she chose (silver, which contrasts the dark denim very nicely), and this is the first time i'm going to use the automatic buttonholer on my machine. whoo! i gave it a test run a few days ago, it's pretty frikkin' shazzy.

anyway. i think i'm coming down with something... i woke up at three in the afternoon yesterday. wtf? and i've been feeling a little run-down... coughing just a bit... so i'm drinking a lot of tea and hoping for the best. i'm really pissed that i'm out of emergen-c. shit tastes horrible, but it always makes me feel better. i don't even have any cough drops left. i'm such a hobo. =\ but i'll start making money soon... Brother says my bags are selling in his store. idk how fast, but he has mentioned that a few have been sold. and he bought one for my sister-in-law, one she really liked... i would have given it to her if i had known they were gonna buy it. =P she is family, she deserves the same treatment as anyone else in the circle. but she got the one she wanted, so i guess that's good enough for me.

btw, Jenny's family is awesome. i love them.

love forever,

oh and ps: someone should tell the snow that no one is amused. -____- go away! we're all sick of you!