bexxta

user since
Sat Sep 8 2001 at 01:26:26 (7.2 years ago )
last seen
Sun Nov 2 2008 at 21:28:05 (2.2 weeks ago )
number of write-ups
96 - View bexxta's writeups (feed)
level / experience
6 (Artificer) / 5252
C!s spent
207
mission drive within everything
to shine
specialties
babbling and bits and bobs
school/company
I'm nobody, Who are you? Are you -- Nobody, -- too? ...
motto
I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.
most recent writeup
The Fumes

Dear Secret Santa and whoever else choses to read this,
So I was reading an article earlier this week by one Mia Timpano. In said article she states, and I quote 'A burnt CD is not a gift. It is literally crap.' I disagree with this statement on many levels. Details of my musical taste can be found on MySpace, but why not take this opportunity to bring new sounds to my ears? Make me something pretty. Gift me something to hang on my walls. Life begins an empty canvas, I like nothing more than to fill mine with dreamy things. Random op-shop finds make my eyes sparkle. Good music makes me warm in the belly, and gives me tingles from the top of my scalp to the tips of my toes. I am looking into learning constellations so I can lie on the beach this summer, and draw in the sky. I will be attending my first ever Falls Festival this year - nifty camping supplies would be lovely. DVD's of The Green Wing in a format compatible with my Australian locale would never be refused... Neither would alcohol, tea, or tea related paraphernalia. I want to read Ann Of Green Gables again. Or why not introduce me to your favourite author or poet? MySpace stalking really doesn't seem out of the question... Get to know little old me the sneaky way. xx R

I have a MySpace, it is rabbitfox. I have an email account also, it is rebeccaclarepage@hotmail.com.

'So there was this woman and she was on an airplane, and she was flying to meet her fiancé seaming high above the largest ocean on planet earth. And she was seated next to this man she had tried to start a conversation with, and the only thing she had really heard him say was to order his Bloody Mary. And she was sitting there and she was reading this really arduous magazine article about a third world country that she couldn't even pronounce the name of. And she was feeling very bored and very despondent. And then suddenly there was this huge mechanical failure and one of the engines gave out, and they started just falling thirty-thousand feet, and the pilots on the microphone and he's saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh my god" and apologizing. And she looks at the man and she says "Where are we going?" and he looks at her and he says "We're going to a party. It's a birthday party. It's your birthday party. Happy birthday darlin'. We love you very, very, very, very, very, very, very much."
And then he starts humming this little tune, it kinda goes like this: 1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4'

'Living never wore one out so much as the effort not to live.'

Show me your art and I will consume even the smallest part of you, he said.

brandy lips
you are a hot dancer
bare foot on floorboards
warped with the age
I felt at 25

I am a happy little vegemite...

♥ Play me like a piano, and if the resulting melody is beautiful I may not turn around and kick you in the balls ♥

♥ I may at times beg you not to feed me violins, but even the resulting symphonies are beautiful ♥

whisper me a lullaby