Life is a sexually transmitted disease.
Anonymous
posted by melody at 3/31/2004 07:47:00 p.m.

The story of Elizabeth Bathory
-taken from her friendster account information.
(a fake account of course, unless she's really a vampire)

Born in 1560, Elizabeth Bathory became the most notorious member of a family which produced kings and generals. At the tender age of eleven, she was betrothed to Count Ferencz Nadasdy as part of a political strategy. At age fourteen, she gave birth to an illegitimate child that was given away. At fifteen she married the Count and began her life as a warrior??s wife, often being home alone at her chateau for months at a time with only servants and friends to keep her amused.
Many believe her love affair with torture came about as she watched her family deal with political enemies and later history realizes that the Iron Maiden should perhaps have been named the Iron Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was a lesbian and made little secret of her inclinations. She consorted with local witches and while visiting her aunt, the Countess Karla Bathory, she became obsessed with young girls with large breasts. Thorko, a servant in her employ, taught her the ways of the black arts and pushed her to the limits of sadistic desire. She commanded her servants procure young women from neighboring villages, taking them down into her specially-devised torture chamber.

Her passions ranged from razors and the Iron Maiden, to biting deeply into the flesh of the young women, tasting their blood. She went beyond the extremes in her sexual and sadistic pleasures with the victims of her obsession. Stories of vampires riddled the land as more and more bloodless cut-up corpses were found.

As her youthful beauty waned, Elizabeth began fervently seeking cures to the lines and wrinkles settling on her face and throat. She went to extremes to find some way to stem the flow of age.

One evening, so the story goes, her young maid began dressing Elizabeth??s hair for dinner. The girl tangled the hair, pulling it. Elizabeth flew into a rage, striking the maid so hard her lip split. The blood from the girl??s wound splashed across Elizabeth??s face. In her twisted view, Elizabeth swore that after removing the blood, her skin had regained its youthful suppleness. And so began a new and invigorated reign of terror across Transylvania. The number of corpses mounted, both across the countryside and in Elizabeth??s torture chamber. Young and beautiful virgins were collected, drained of their blood a bath filled. Elizabeth bathed in its scarlet depths.

The body count grew. History believes well over 600 young maidens from the area and beyond were brought to Elizabeth during the years of her sadism and search for the fountain of youth. Blood ran thick from the fountain.

One of her teachers of the black arts told her that to further regain her young appearance, she must use the blood of nobility. This may have been where the end began. Elizabeth approached the local priest and commanded he bury a number of bloodless corpses in unmarked graves. The priest kept notes of the meeting and after his death, the notes were found by his successor.

Elizabeth was tried without being at her trial. Her teachers, the servants involved and her hirelings were beheaded for crimes of witchcraft, torture and murder. She, however remained under guard until the courts found her guilty. Her noble lineage prevented her being tried for certain of her crimes.

The court ordered her walled into a tiny room in the Castle Csejthe. Her guards passed food through a tiny hole in the wall. She was fifty years old. Four years later, in 1614, Elizabeth Bathory, scourge of Transylvania was dead.
posted by melody at 3/30/2004 04:49:00 p.m.

lately i find myself at a loss for words to express my thoughts,
if indeed i'm still having any at all.
i have been reading a lot of what other ppl have to say instead.
therefore i am introducing quotes of the day.
or interesting last words, or interesting stories...
prepare to be entertained. or grossed out...
-as jenny pointed out, i like nasty stories

thanks to blogger's "change time & date" function,
i think i will be able to post one every day. :p
posted by melody at 3/30/2004 04:47:00 p.m.

還需要 1000字, 什麼都寫不出來

我想放棄 放棄 放棄

i stand with so much to gain
yet so much to lose

再過幾天就好了

哪幾天之後呢? -->沒有方向

i'm an addict
of nicotine, of caffiene, of coke (cola kind), of pain...?

如果說一切都是選擇
did i choose to be unhappy?

yes ● no

............

你在幹嘛?

喂。

把刀拔出來好嗎, 你刺的我很痛。
posted by melody at 3/29/2004 06:45:00 p.m.

突然很想吃虱目魚肚。 極度渴望。
posted by melody at 3/29/2004 06:24:00 p.m.

咦? 又天光啦? 唉~ 去上課吧.

nicotine, caffiene, non-existent sleep,
and intense road rage at any car going slower than 70km/hr
i must be attending classes again! =_____=
posted by melody at 3/26/2004 11:44:00 p.m.

既然懷舊讓我如此感傷 為何還總是犯賤的愛翻往事?

也許因為過去如何悲傷 也比現在好一些
posted by melody at 3/25/2004 07:32:00 p.m.

我也想要去一個一望無際的沙灘
碧藍的天 透明的淺藍海水

可是去到了 難說會不會 變成一種諷刺

The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.
- John Milton, Paradise Lost


聽著一首一首的舊歌 一首比一首苦

我也不想 可是有些事不是你選的
你可以否認 你可以壓抑 可是你不能停止感覺
the superego can never conquer the id.
我們都是低等動物.
posted by melody at 3/25/2004 06:48:00 p.m.

melancholy...

or melodramatic?

what is the difference?

i am melancholy.

but people think i'm just being melodramatic.

it doesn't matter what they think or if they're right.

i know how i feel.
posted by melody at 3/24/2004 08:57:00 p.m.

無聊死了。
posted by melody at 3/24/2004 12:50:00 p.m.

just when u think things can't get worse -- they do.
- a lesson from King Lear.

能麻痺多好
多希望過去這一個禮拜 在昏迷中度過
好多事 好多感覺 好迷惘

唯一缺的 是時間 永遠都是敗在時間
posted by melody at 3/23/2004 07:20:00 p.m.

old memories...

not bad to have short term memory...
if u have a really bad day, whatever, cuz u won't remember it
u just have to make it thru however long ur memory lasts
well actually it won't feel that way... i dunno.

今天我心情有一點怪怪的 可是說不出來為什麼
好像有一點悲傷的感覺 可是病因並不明

算啦 有一點怪怪的而已, 對我來說已是進步了

從新整理了我的mp3 因為之前的playlist每次都不完整
原來我有551首mp3... 很多好像從來都不知道的
該整理一下了 永遠都沒有空

每天的無奈 不是看著必須讀的那一疊書
而是看著那一整個書櫃, 想讀卻沒空讀的書

they were wrong -
life is not about what u have... it's always about what u don't have

以前好強硬 現在...?
我該燒了全部的舊日記 舊回憶
沒的比較 是好的
b/c everything is relative

胡言亂語...

"A few years after my mother's death, during the brief time he lived with Naomi and me, my father seemed to give up sleep entirely. At night we heard him wandering around the house. Finally, I convinced him to see a doctor, who, to my relief, prescribed sleeping pills. But, suddenly able to answer the dilemma of hunger that had plagued him so long, he took them all."
--- Anne Michaels, Fugitive Pieces.

i recommend this book. the words twist and turn and leave u in a trance.
the jewish stories of the second world war and the nazis leave u feeling chilled, yet u cannot help but to relish the impeccable imagery...

anyway it's a good book, the more i read the more i like.
(and yes that implies i didn't like it too much in the first couple pages.)
posted by melody at 3/22/2004 04:49:00 p.m.

一個人坐在陽台發呆 抽完了最後一隻菸
說了是最後一支了 卻失去了戒煙的動力

過了好久 發現我在顫抖
我好想要強烈的感受到什麼
極冷 極熱 甚至是極痛
可是沒有 什麼也沒有

回來躺到床上 我試圖讓自己空白
可是還胸口還是強烈的酸痛著
我企圖哭泣 卻連一滴淚都擠不出來
我試圖嘔吐 空空的肚子卻說什麼也不肯讓步 連幾滴胃酸也不肯賜予我
我試圖讓身體的痛大於心裡的痛 卻什麼也感覺不到

我麻木了 卻確實實的麻木了 卻還是阻止不了心痛
你有沒有感受過 真正的悲傷 真正的心痛
好像運動過度的那種酸痛無力感 強烈的包圍著胸口
怎麼趕也趕不走

我企圖用文字描寫我的感覺 卻無法打敗它
只覺得好難受 好難受 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 帶走我的意識好嗎 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 你想要什麼都好 全部都拿走都行 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 我不想要存在 不想要存在

連一滴淚都不行嗎 為什麼要這樣子 好累好累 好痛好痛 停 停 停

ｐｌｅａｓｅ　ｓｔｏｐ．．．　ｉ　ｃａｎ’ｔ　ｔａｋｅ　ａｎｙｍｏｒｅ．．．

posted by melody at 3/19/2004 05:41:00 a.m.

當我需要你的時候 你在哪裡
現在開始 我不會白痴的一次一次撥著你的號碼
需要的話 我會學會按按別的鍵

我最喜歡說的 it's a package deal
沒理由得我一個不自由
posted by melody at 3/17/2004 11:42:00 a.m.

the first spider in this apartment.
it liked to hang out on the ceiling in the living room, which was okay with me since it doesn't hang out on top of the sofa or coffee table.
back in the basement, i once got deranged enough to think that the spiders were my only friends there...
back in my old apartment in taiwan, when i was more or less still a kid, there was a spider also... well there were quite a few, but i remember a particular one that i killed. after i smashed it with my slipper, i burst out crying, b/c i thought it was a spider daddy and all the spider kiddies now have no spider daddy.

the first spider in this apartment.
i killed it also.
it was in the shade thing of my door to the balcony, and when i pulled the shades up, it got trapped and squished to death.
i'm sorry spider...
we might've been good friends.
posted by melody at 3/16/2004 06:49:00 p.m.

又是一個趕作業的星期一凌晨
只有鍵盤跟滑鼠的聲音 好安靜
現在到暑假, 還有好久
大家已經在計畫暑假的事
而我 陷在這裡 無法想到"big picture"

有些事 一早就該想清楚的 我偏偏拖拖拉拉的逃避著
只是貪心的想再多快樂一秒鐘...
posted by melody at 3/15/2004 06:13:00 p.m.

"也許是習慣
對你 我不會問重要的問題
對你 我非常順從
所以對你 我很容易被忘記
沒關係 我從沒有要求你任何承諾"
posted by melody at 3/14/2004 07:28:00 p.m.

i came and sat in front of this computer nearly 2 hours ago,
with the norton anthology of english literature, volume B, opened in my lap
with the pretense of needing to type up a reader response assignment for King Lear.
i proceeded to complete the assignment, and waste the next 110 minutes or so doing i-have-no-idea what.
i managed to scan and send some images to my psyc lab members and talk to my dad a bit, as well as respond to some messages. but other than that, i have just wasted 2 hours of precious study time.
but all in all, i can't say i haven't been productive - b/c any sort of social contact these days is an achievement...

spring is almost here, the sun is out these days... i haven't been going to school. it's unbearably bright out... instead i sulk at home and wait for the day to pass into night. but instead of staying up all night, i crawl into bed early and stay there till late the next morning, even tho i don't sleep for longer than 3 hours at a time. and when i do, it's sleep that is plagued by nonsensical dreams.

studying for abnormal psyc midterm, perhaps the medical student syndrome is at work again.
but i still haven't been able to explain the mysterious cut on my left arm that refuses to heal.
i'd procure some vitamin E oil, but i wonder - does that encourage hair growth?

addicted to mascara - afriad i will purchase mounds of it, much like my obsession with lip gloss. the problem is, mascara is difficult to remove and sleeping with it on, aside from bad hygiene, is entirely uncomfortable.

language eludes me. spelling has become an increasing problem, so has fragmentation and consistency. the marked assignments come back - fields of markings, circles, and comments. i struggle. paragraphs have turned to lines. the world has managed to disintegrate itself into poetry, and thus i can no longer understand it the way conventional people do.

sometimes i get asked whether this or that is an accurate interpretation of the text. i always tell them to follow the general lines of what has been discussed in class. god knows where i'd be if i wrote a truly original thesis for an essay. i pause as i comtemplate the title - "King Lear: Cordelia and the Fool are One". i wonder if it has never occured to anyone before? i stop short of raising the issue with the professor. unorthodox is not good if u cross the line. i have learned that.

the more i try, the less sense i make...
and what if i cease? if i cease to speak... what would i be then?

if a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, i believe it still falls and exists.
if a man lives alone in the woods and does not contact anyone - then i fail to percieve him as existing.
why is that?
i cannot explain my own rationale.

the Portuguese as significant in Broken Ground! the Portuguese;s life and struggle is as perplexing to the residents of Portuguese Creek as is their lives to the rest of Canada. I have a thesis for one of my essays. so this rambling has paid off. but i can't seem to relate that to WWI. *sigh*
posted by melody at 3/11/2004 04:41:00 p.m.