April 30, 2008
 The first thing I want to tell you about is a great journal post from my friend “annieli," to correspond with the day set aside to commemorate victims of the Holocaust. Entitled “Yom Hashoah,” Anne describes the German concentration camp at Dachau, and includes photos from her visit there. Anne’s journal entry also includes interviews she conducted with Holocaust survivors. The article is at once heartbreaking and informative. please click here to check it out 
I also wanted to recommend a movie I saw recently called, “Black Book.” (Zwartboek) Toward the end of the second World War, a young Jewish woman joins the Resistance in the Netherlands. She gets a job at the official German headquarters in order to spy on the activities of the SS. Here’s the catch (one of them, anyway): she falls in love with a German officer. The movie is suspenseful, tragic and romantic. The cast is wonderful. (stars nobody we ever heard of.) The film is directed by Paul Verhoeven, a Dutch director. After making a name for himself in the Netherlands, Verhoeven was snapped up by Hollywood and made his American directorial debut with the smash hit “Robocop.” (1987) He went on to direct some pretty crappy movies (in my opinion), including “Hollow Man,” “Starship Troopers,” and even a certifiable so-bad-it’s-good stinker, “Showgirls.” He seems to have returned to his roots and redeemed himself with “Black Book.” Highly recommended. Available on DVD. In German, English, and Dutch. That should probably be it for World War II from me for a while-LOL!!
Posted on 04/30/2008 6:03 PM Comments (3)
April 28, 2008
Dedication: to annadee, who wouldn't touch a javey with a 10-foot pole. �
illustration by ghettodaveyhavok
(i think her real name is crystal)
Thanks, my friend.
She began their dance. They had been together just over four months, and the dance hadn�t yet become boring. And if Isabella had her way, it never would.
Isabella was a writer for Interview magazine. She had been assigned to write an article about Davey Havok. On a cool, foggy October morning she had arrived at Davey�s house for their first chat. Davey answered the door and welcomed her graciously. �I�m impressed you found your way without any trouble. It�s not easy, even without the fog!�
�I have a great sense of direction. And eyes like a cat,� she quipped.
�Well, come on in the kitchen and I�ll get you something warm to drink.�
And so, the interview had begun. Davey talked about AFI�s new cd; how he felt about his first tour with Blaqk Audio; and the continuing evolution of AFI�s music. Isabella had a feeling that answering these same questions over and over might become tedious for Davey, so she threw in a few off-the-wall ones, too, such as, �Who do you think you might have been in a past life?� and �If you had to eat the same three foods for the rest of your life, which three would you choose?�
Isabella didn�t know how she had done it, but several times she had made Davey giggle, and the corners of his eyes crinkled disarmingly. The interview was going so well, and Davey was so friendly that Isabella had begun to think....but no. It couldn�t be that she was making any kind of impression on Davey. No doubt he used his natural charm on everyone he met.
But Isabella had been wrong. She had made an impression on Davey. As the lengthy interview drew to a close, Davey had asked her if she would like to have dinner with him one night soon.
Here they were, four months, and many dinners, movies, talks, and walks, not to mention one miniature golf game, later, sitting on his couch, watching the classic film Notorious. Isabella�s head was resting in Davey�s lap. The movie�s dialogue gradually faded into the background until all Isabella could hear was the beating of Davey�s heart.
Isabella moved onto his lap and began to slowly unbutton his shirt. While she concentrated on the buttons, Davey looked at her face. He admired her thick lashes clustered on her cheek. He admired her smooth skin and pretty nose. He left off admiring the details and took in the whole lovely vision.
Now she had all the buttons unbuttoned. She leaned in and kissed Davey�s chest over and over, slowly and lovingly. She slid off his lap and looked up at him. He dipped his head down and captured her lips. They kissed, loving the taste of each other, loving the feeling.
He laid her down on the couch and covered her with his body. He kissed her lips, then her neck, all the while letting his fingers explore the soft skin beneath her blouse. In between kisses, they helped each other undress. They didn�t trouble themselves with getting up and moving to the bed. The moment was upon them. Like two dancers in perfect sync, they made love on the wide, soft sofa.
Afterwards, Davey took a throw blanket from where it rested on the back of the sofa and spread it over the two of them . He kissed Isabella on the forehead, then lightly on the lips as she looked at his beautiful face. �Oh, Davey,� she started to say. �I think�� she stopped herself. Isabella had fallen in love with Davey. No, it was even worse than that; he had her wrapped around his little finger. But to dream that Davey felt the same way about her, well, that would be a happy ending, wouldn�t it? And happy endings were reserved for the movies, not real life. Isabella decided she didn�t dare finish the sentence. She lacked the courage to say �those� three words.
Davey, however, was waiting for her to complete her thought. �What do you think?� he asked.
�I think...I think I left my headlights on.�
�Ridiculous. They turn off automatically. Now what did you start to say?�
�Nothing. I changed my mind. I don�t want to say it.�
�Okay.� He buried his face in her hair. Isabella had a mass of curly hair, chestnut brown with natural dark gold streaks in it.
�I love the way you smell,� he said.
��Smell?� I don�t think I like the sound of that,� Isabella said dubiously.
�Why not? It�s a good thing. You smell like raspberries and roses.�
She smiled.
�What do I smell like?� he asked.
�You don�t smell like anything. I mean, you smell...like Davey. With maybe a just a hint of tea in there.�
Davey smiled back. He took one of her long curls between his fingers, stretched it all the way out and let it spring back like a Slinky. �Boing,� he said.
They were quiet then. Davey laced Isabella�s fingers in his own and kissed each one of them. Afterwards, she placed their entwined hands over her heart.
Davey spoke up again. Apparently, he wasn�t going to let the subject drop. �Now. Back to what you started to say before. You began �Oh, Davey, I think...��
�You know what? I need to go to the bathroom,� said Isabella. �Can I borrow your shirt?�
They felt around on the couch underneath them, and Davey finally produced the crumpled shirt from between the couch cushions. �Got it!� he announced.
She sat up and slipped the shirt on, buttoning a few of the buttons. He watched her walk away.
Davey put his hands behind his head and allowed his thoughts to wander. Why did he feel so good when he was with her? Why did he feel like he wanted to spend all his free time with her? She was pretty, of course. But the earth was overrun with pretty faces. So it wasn�t just that. Maybe it was because she gave him his space, and yet when they were together she focused completely on him. Maybe it was because he felt like he had known her forever, yet was always discovering new things about her. Maybe it was because she smiled with her eyes. He couldn�t tell if she looked at other people that way, but the important thing was, that was how she looked at him.
He heard her moving about in the kitchen. Presently she returned, looking very appetizing, Davey thought, dressed only in his half-buttoned shirt. He could see that she was chewing something.
�What are you eating?� he asked.
She sat down on the sofa, pointed to her full mouth and shrugged. He leaned up, and just before his lips touched hers, he knew it was chocolate.
�I thought so,� he said after they kissed. �Go back and get me some.�
She frowned at him.
�Please?� he added. She returned with a largish square of dark chocolate,* and placed it in his mouth. While he ate it, she snuggled back under the blanket with him.
They kissed again, deeply. The chocolate was gone, but the sweet, rich, and slightly bitter taste remained.
Then Davey said, �Now what were we talking about?�
�You were about to tell me about your childhood, Davey.�
�We-e-ell,� he said, drawing the word out, �I was born in Rochester, New York during the Blizzard of �75. Folks �round those parts, well they said it was the worst dern storm since the Blizzard of �42 when Farmer Jenkins froze to death trying to dig himself out of his barn�and you know very well that�s not what we were talking about. Why do you keep changing the subject?�
She couldn�t help grinning. He was maddening, but adorable.
�I wish you would tell me what you started to say a little while ago,� he said.
Isabella gave no reply. She suddenly buried her face in his neck, hiding. Looking into his eyes, those warm cocoa eyes, had almost made her blurt out the sentence she feared saying.
Davey began to feel like a bastard for prolonging this game they were playing. He wanted nothing more right now than to make love with her again. He decided to try one more gambit, and if that didn�t work, he would stop teasing her. He raised the blanket a few inches off their bodies, and said mischievously, �If you don�t say what you started to say to me, this blanket and I are going away and you�ll be left here alone and shivering.�
She looked up at him and reached out with her hand, letting it rest against his cheek. He smiled down at her. She looked into his eyes, searching. The intimacy became too much for her, and she looked away, a tear escaping her eye. �Okay," she said softly, "I�ll say it.� She looked up at him again. �Davey,� she whispered, �I�m so in love with you.�
He kissed her slowly, seriously, and, Isabella sensed, with devotion.
�You�ve made me very happy,� he said. �because, Isabella, I�m in love with you too.�
They began to make love for the second time that night on the wide, soft sofa.
the end
*don�t worry; it�s vegan chocolate.
So that was a happy little fantasy, wasn�t it? If you liked it, please comment and BUZZ.
Thanks so much for reading, and I hope to see you next time!!!
luv...helen...xo
Posted on 04/28/2008 6:51 PM Comments (16)
April 17, 2008
There’s a reason we love the Spring... Is it because at last we are released
from our wood and glass prisons? Is it because the ice finally cracks,
and the river is free to run? Is it because we wonder what the robins talk about
with their petite yellow beaks? Is it because when the daffodils bow their heads,
it almost seems like prayer? Is it because suddenly the music in our headphones
is not nearly as beautiful
as the song of the mockingbird? Is it because if we sit still long enough,
we can almost see the crocuses grow? Yes, it is all of these. They are all a part
of the one word that means Spring: Hope. 
this poem is for jenna: it is all I can give her.
Posted on 04/17/2008 5:45 PM Comments (11)
April 12, 2008
I made friends recently with a lovely person named Ambereen
(aameer713). She was born in America,
and lives in Gilbert, AZ.
Her family is Pakistani, and so she practices the Islamic faith. She
recently wrote a blog explaining some of the Muslim customs she follows. I’ll
freely admit that I, for one, was enlightened by it.
Go check it out, if you’re curious!
click here to read the blog
Posted on 04/12/2008 2:54 PM Comments (3)
April 10, 2008
Helen: ”It must be great to be a drummer. You take out all
your aggressions on the drums. Drummers
must be very peaceful people.”
Shane: “Gandhi must have been a drummer.”
Shane: If I was forced to have a crush on a rock star, it
would be Hayley Williams.
After playing the “Smells Like Teen Spirit” guitar solo: I just played that with my eyes closed which
proves how lame it is.
Shane doesn’t like slow songs. When a slow song came on the
Paramore cd we had on in the car, I automatically hit the skip button.
“That’s my girl!” said Shane.
While playing the guitar, Shane suddenly blurted out, “Now I
know what I was put on this earth for!”
In a Blaqk Audio song, Davey sings some lyrics about being
“gone without a trace,” so I said, “I don’t want Davey to be gone without a
trace.”
Shane said, “All rock stars have to go sometime, Mom.”
NOW LET'S HAVE SOME NON-MUSIC RELATED QUOTES
Shane: At my age, we have crushes on girls, but we don’t
know why.
A commercial for Gillette shavers in which guys were playing
soccer came on tv.
Shane commented, “Shaving doesn’t make you good at soccer.”
Shane: Mom, who makes that rainbow jello?
Helen: Wesley’s grandma, Mrs. Smith.
Shane: Is Mrs. Smith still alive?
Helen: Oh yes.
Shane: Good, because I really like that jello!
Extra Credit Reading
During my search for a photo of a shaver, I stumbled upon
the website of Long or Short LLC (which I guess gives you financial advice). Check
out the “razor-sharp” wit of the writer below. Hmm, Kaiser Edamame. Could that
possibly be a pen-name?
Shaving:
The Future, but Now
by Kaiser Edamame
Hi. I’m here to tell you the history of shaving. It all
began with cavemen, they had long hairy beards and the beards were sweaty and
dusty.
Then, in 1904, a company called Gillette invented the “safety razor“.
The safety razor was a single-blade razor that made shaving cool and fun and
everyone did it.
In 1971, after more than 60 years of research, Gillette
realized they could double their revenues if they sold a razor that had (get
this) TWO blades. That’s right, the dual-blade Gillette
Sensor Excel took the shaving industry by storm and it was another 30 years
before the inventors at Gillette could improve this model. ☺If the corners of your mouth turned up at all, give it a buzz!☺luv...helen
Posted on 04/10/2008 5:42 PM Comments (9)
|
|
