Special offer: buy my conscience (while stocks last!)

Three different people have asked what to get me for my birthday, which was on the 4th. I do have a public wishlist in the links section of this blog, but since they can't seem to locate it, there you go:

Amazon Wishlist

Once there, go to 'filter and sort' (right hand side, next to the social media buttons) , and choose 'priority: high to low'. You can choose any item with the 'highest', or 'high' priority indication. Yes, the list is current, and yes, I am bribable. No idea what kind of services I can offer you in exchange, but do ask, it will be fun to hear your bizarre requests. :P And no, you don't have to buy the items off Amazon; that's just where the wishlist is located. Needless to say, if I receive a crazy cat lady starter kit I will be very pissed off. :D I already have one cat in each flavour, so don't you dare.

Other than that, if you have an approaching birthday for a person who loves vampires and darker stories, why not buy my friend's Lizbeth Gabriel's collection of short stories? She's really good, dark and unconventional. Just be warned: she does NOT belong to the Young Adult genre, where everything has a happy end, vampires are fluffy and killers are in reality misunderstood chaps who need someone to love them. She is genuinely dark, and loves to probe those uncomfortable corners of the human psyche that most writers avoid. She also has kick-ass female characters, powerful and unapologetic, and a good sense of humour. If that sounds up your alley, give her a try. 

My full review for her book: 

http://mostlyamused.blogspot.gr/2016/04/promised-review-theater-of-dusk.html

You can buy her book here:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HV4584Q

Come on people, let's give a new (and authentic) voice a chance. Very soon she'll publish her second book, and she needs all the reviews and sales she can get. Here, have a kiss for your efforts:

(Psst. Lizbeth darling, hur hur hur, cackle chuckle titter giggle, you are welcome to bribe me. I know you can't send ice-cream in the post, but chocolate is most welcome. Get me the Ritter Sport Jamaica Rum that I can't find here and we're even. ;) ) 
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Some thoughts on this blog.

1. In a few months from now (October), it will be 10 years since I created it. Imagine that. Ten whole years of me banging the keyboard like a manic orangutan.
2. I changed the font size of the entire blog, including past posts, to make it easier to read. I hope this is indeed the case.
3. I love this blog. It is surreal and profane and sad, just like its creator. It is also honest, and not mundane to the degree I could help it. I am responsible for it and it has grown into something important.
4. I don't advertise it and yet it seems that it has its own bizarre readership, at least judging from the number of page views and flags. Which is great, I am not complaining. But weird. I wonder who those people are and what they are trying to achieve by reading my inane musings and my rants. Oh well, pointless to wonder. Thank you for reading it anyway.
5. I am thinking about organising a small 'thank you' giveaway of some kind on the anniversary of its creation. Then again, I may by that time be in Australia, or dead. Or both.

It's very late. I should be sleeping, especially considering how late I slept yesterday. I just 'love' my insomnia bouts; nothing better than lying in bed jumping out of your skin at every single noise. Presently I am eating strawberries and seriously considering writing an article for a newspaper. I have no idea if they will accept it or not, but if this happens, I will let you know.

It's my birthday~!

And belly dancing makes me happy, so here is a very nice video. :)

Enjoy!

Birth-day

Νίκος Γκάτσος:

Περίλυπος εστίν η ψυχή μου έως θανάτου

Γιατί σ'αυτό το αρχαίο αγγείο αγαπιούνται τόσο όμορφα δύο σώματα

περίλυπος εστίν η ψυχή μου έως θανάτου

Γιατί σε τούτο το μοτέλ ένα ταξί δαγκώνει αυτό το φέρετρο σα να'ναι πούρο 

περίλυπος εστίν η ψυχή μου έως θανάτου

Γιατί τα σκαλοπάτια ετούτα κατεβαίνουν μέσα στον καθρέφτη φτάνοντας εκεί που'ναι θαμμένο το προφίλ του φεγγαριού

περίλυπος εστίν η ψυχή μου έως θανάτου

Γιατί στον κόσμο τούτο όλοι έχουνε το σπίτι τους κι εγώ είμαι ο ξένος που 'χει χάσει τη φυλή του και το δρόμο του

περίλυπος εστίν η ψυχή μου έως θανάτου

Γιατί περιπλανιέμαι έξω από τη μήτρα σου κι έξω απ'τον τάφο μου

περίλυπος εστίν η ψυχή μου έως θανάτου

περίλυπος εστίν η ψυχή μου έως θανάτου.

Nikos Gatsos:

My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.

Why on this ancient vase two bodies make love to each other so gracefully

 my soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death

 Why at this motel a taxi bites this coffin as if it was a cigar

 my soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death

Why do these steps descend inside the mirror, reaching the place the profile of the moon is buried

 my soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death

Why in this world that everyone has a home, I am the stranger who has lost his people and his way

my soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death

Why do I wander outside your womb and outside my grave

my soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death

my soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. 

(The translation is mine, and a bit awkward. But it conveys the meaning.) 

Sometimes I know for certain something you perhaps don't know, or don't want to see.

I am more like your father than I am like you.

Eat proper food, exersize, don't smoke, don't drink, don't fuck. Die healthy.

I think I want to organize an orgy.

Fat chance of that. I can barely organize my thoughts lately. I read everything wrong. I am either arbitrary relating it to sex or my misreading gives everything a new, more interesting meaning.

Jewelery makers become undertakers.

Travel agencies suddenly specialize in crepes.

Bet newspapers turn to sex marathon reports. And so on.

It could be funny. It is funny. But my energy has become lopsided, my grounding ability has gone to hell, I drop things, feel tipsy all the time and still have to think, work, walk... My attempts at walking are often misunderstood as tango between a drunken person and an invisible three legged bull on high heels. Fun, fun, fun. All my cds seem to be playing gibberish, like I've had my entire music collection stolen and replaced by the Martian top 40. And I am eating non-stop. My jaws are working overtime, gobbling down prodigious amounts of chocolaty, delicious, sugary, non healthy CRAP. Arghhhh...

I want to fondle tits, or have mine fondled. I want to be an Emperor, or run a ninja organization. I want a massage. I want to kiss the delicate fingers of Shinya, the drummer of Dir en Grey, and smack the Pope of Rome for his comment on gay people. I want all my farts to be silent and non smelly and my legs and magic carpet always waxed. I want to my tom cat to turn into a 1,90m tall black were-panther, who's well hung, polite and loves to lick me. I demand vacation, evacuation and non-smelly perspiration. Free chocolate and ice cream delivered to me till my last days by handsome ninjas in leopard thongs. Massage by the pretty Asian boys I ogle, all of them dressed exclusively in badass leather or period dresses for ladies, both versions with full make-up. Someone to take care of an indecent winged fellow that refuses to die in spite of my best efforts, and I am not referring to a mosquito. I want pillows stuffed with hamsters that smell like an almond tree in full bloom, a Japanese tattoo on my entire back, Sephiroth as my lover and Vampire Hunter D as my husband. And to cheat on them both with Totchi, the bassist of Dir en Grey dressed as a goth slut (see picture). And to give my period to someone else when I have it. And not get any zits or colds ever. And always have enough money regardless of anything else. And very very long hair.

I DON'T WANT TO TURN 33! WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!