Dark manly beauty

Sometimes you come across men who are handsome, polite, sweet and generous. It is rare, but it happens. Here is one such. Enjoy.

Asdrall alternative model

Contact details:  
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Asdrall alternative model

Contact details: 
Facebook    Instagram   Website  email: asdrall@hotmail.it    

Insomnia conspirators

Things that can and will keep me awake at night, usually occurring in a row, and just as I am about to fall asleep.

Outside factors:

• Crying baby
• Mosquito(es)
• Cat fight
• Dog barking
• Car alarm
• Passing drunks screaming their heads off/ singing
• Motorbikes screeching
• Loud noises due to wind
• A gig at the square close to my house
• My cats throwing down a mountain of metallic objects like pots and pans
•  Idiotic companies calling early in the morning/ SMSing in the middle of the night 
• Cat in the room scratching on the door to be let out
• Sheet wrinkle at exactly the wrong place (strategically placed for maximum discomfort)
• An exceptional book (but that kind of wakefulness is voluntary)

Factors related to me

• Coughing because of my dust allergy 
• Needing to pee (usually five times in a row)
• Foot twitching violently (for some reason I don't understand, my foot has dance aspirations, especially in the a.m.)
• Being horny
• Sudden stomachache
• Stress over having to wake up early/ run errands
• Just because 

Possible solutions that take care of all the factors, except for book reading: BOMB THE PLANET AND SLEEP FOREVER AND EVER IN PERFECT PEACE...
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Sleep is overrated

My insomnia symptoms have spiked again in the past few days. I can't sleep before ten in the morning. For the time being, it is fine, because I am on holiday. But soon I begin working again, and not getting any sleep at night is not going to help me.

Twice this week I could not sleep. Twice I chose to get out of bed and run some errands, hoping I would fall asleep once I was back home. It usually works.

It's interesting walking the streets very early in the morning. There are just a few people out. The sky is blue and the temperature isn't unbearable yet. Passers-by think I woke up early, while I haven't slept at all and feel like an imposter among the early birds. I'm usually giddy with self-sarcastic, surreal humour, mocking myself and the situation and having conversations with myself out loud. What can I do? I can't sleep. It has to do with who I am, how I react to energy and what I've been through. I'm usually the first to know when something is awry energy-wise. I didn't ask to be made this way and I can't undo the way I am. I'll never be 'normal'. I don't think normal really exists. So I try to squeeze some laughs in it. Nagging is useless. It will pass.

All is well in the kingdom of Nomasland. 

Over and out.
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Decision time (with lots of f*cks)

I have a brain like an artichoke right now, so maybe writing a blog post is not a good idea. But to hell with it. I have made up my mind about stuff. Here are my decisions.

One, I won't spend any more time thinking  about the fuckwads who have been nasty or mean to me. It's pointless and it makes me angry. Anger is something I have so much of I can open an export company, or give my surplus to those in need. So, no more thinking about those that used to be friends, lovers, penpals, whatever the fuckity fuck ever. It's over. It's dead. It belongs to the past. *middle finger raised in solemn salutation* Good riddance to bad luck.

Two, I won't spend any more time thinking about where I am supposed to be versus to where I am now. It makes me depressed and I honestly can't deal with it. Plus it is as pointless as #1. I can't do anything about it. Maybe I don't care enough, maybe I am not trying enough, maybe this reality is a rigged simulation run by a type IV Kardashev scale civilisation and no matter how much I try, it doesn't and won't respond to my efforts. In any case, no can do, and that's that.

It is indeed. But I don't have the cure for others. I can only help myself.

Three, I can't spend a second more worrying about the fate of humanity, the situation of the world, the pollution, poverty, human trafficking, war, violence against women and so on. I refuse to give more time and energy to that gigantic clusterfuck of monstrosities. I didn't create those situations and consequently I can't solve them and refuse to dwell on them. The injustice of the situation makes me sick with rage. It makes me yell at the heavens at unorthodox hours when everyone is sleeping, and takes away the joy of living. So I will put my efforts in what I can do, however pitifully small that may be, and sign petitions, and feed my stray cats and take care of my friends. The rest, no way Jose. I can't, and it is not my responsibility. 

Four, I will follow the advice of a dear friend. Stand your ground, stick to your own. I know who "my own" are. They are there for me. They may not have solutions to my problems, but they are happy to discuss books, movies, series and every day life with me. They call, they write, they make me laugh, they listen. This is more than most people have and I don't take it for granted.

Five, I will floss more often. 

There. That's it. Now, here is something pretty with burnt orange eyes. You are welcome.

Michael Tintiuc. Source: https://www.instagram.com/p/BIvlXOChVLp/ 
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Under a bitchy moon

Normally I publish reviews on my other blog, but this book made me suffer, and I need to share my pain.

J.L. McCoy: Blood of the Son. Vampire novel. Or perhaps brain damage. Soooooo...

It’s safe to say this book sums up everything I hate. Skye, the protagonist, is a Mary Sue, or perhaps I should say, a redhead Sookie Stackhouse with a love for rock music. She is gorgeous, but not aware of it. In spite of her Ancient History and Classical Civilization major, she speaks like a Texan cliché with the brain of an ostrich. She’s also petty, insecure, shallow and irritating. She supposedly is feminist but we soon realise she’s just an entitled hypocrite. She has no sense of social boundaries and more mood swings than a pregnant baboon. Her only redeeming quality is her love for her dog. Which leads us to the next question. Who the hell calls their dog Styvi Nix? If you stopped me on the street and asked me what Styvi Nix is, I would have said chest rub ointment.

So, little gothic Mary Sue leads a very exciting life. We’re offered detailed descriptions of all the times she showers, washes her hair, brushes her teeth, pets her dog, the toys she buys for her dog, what she does with them and her dog, what time she goes to bed with her dog, the types and brands of clothes, make-up and perfume she wears, what she eats for breakfast, supper, dinner, the drinks she buys, what she buys when she goes shopping in general… These completely pointless descriptions take about one third to half of the book. I almost felt cheated when we didn’t get any details on her stool production. I mean, I really feel left out. The suspense is a killer. Don’t do this to me. I need to know.

But wait. She is tough, because she takes Krav Maga lessons. Is she really? Almost every time she needs to defend herself, a man steps in and saves her. Maybe I misunderstand her, because she was unlucky in love. Well, judging by her actions, she hardly deserves the higher moral ground. When she gets the chance, she does the same and worse, and has the nerve to act insulted on top. But double standards are fine, because, you know, she is the protagonist and her drama and the unfairness of life makes a single teardrop appear and slowly roll down my cheek. Let’s form a circle and pat each others' backs to feel better.

The male characters of the book. Mmm. They all fall under three categories. Brainless daddy substitutes, ass-grabbing assholes, or generic vampire hunks with stunning abs. Which brings us to Archer. Oh, sweet Archer, you could have been a copycat of Christian Grey minus the BDSM paraphernalia and adding fangs. Bearing in mind I hold Christian Grey in the same high regard as a leper’s steaming turd, I wasn’t a fan. He’s a passive-aggressive, threatening, yelling, patronising ass, and I kept hoping he would be squashed by a titanium safe, or killed in a terrible accident involving a tank, a volcano and accidentally swallowing copious amounts of semtex. If only.

Pretty much nothing happens in this book. Except for the spine-chilling, toe-curling reports of shopping, grooming and eating, fits of jealous rage by almost everyone, some murders far off in the background and generic vampire hunks speaking in Gaelic, I could summarise everything in a paragraph. The only memorable event happens in the last chapter and then you have to buy the next one in the series to see what that is about. Personally, I’d rather stuff my face with poisonous frogs and wear a bramble bra for a week than read more of this series. If, on the other hand, you enjoyed Sookie Stackhouse and Christian Grey novels, you’ll probably find this book riveting. Dunno. Go for it.

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