Friday, July 4, 2014

Cheers to Your Independent Living PlaySpaces


Howdy doo, Freedom-Lovers? 

Happy Fourth of July to one and all!!!

With so much happening in the weird, wide world, I thought it might be nice to share some weird and wild stories of happenstance around the globe to remember who we are as free, independent lively folk.

For example, if you thought your town was weird, perhaps you have never heard of these wild lands.


 But, then again, them there hills and hamlets that be have nothing on uncanny valleys!!!

Shall we name them? Anything shorter than 63 words is probably permissible for most purposes.

With luck, the independence and unique qualities of ancestral and/or original nomenclature will be recognized.


Follow The Grind

Friday, June 27, 2014

I See Rio, I See France, I Heart Sexy Underpants



 or, "FIVE REASONS WHY I LOVE BRAZIL"


1) ADRIANA LIMA



2)MAICON (FIFA BRAZIL WORLD CUP 2014)




3) CAPOEIRA, per lateef crowder =)





4) CARNAVAL





5) forro dance






and....."FIVE REASONS WHY I LOVE FRANCE"


1) MELISSA THEURIAU






2) PIERRE-ALEXANDRE BUSSON aka "DJ yuksek"




3)  DELACROIX

"LA LIBERTE GUIDANT LE PEUPLE" de EUGENE DELACROIX


4)  ANDRE BRETON & THE SURREALISM MOVEMENT

THE TREACHERY OF IMAGES by rene magritte


5) PARIS & THE GARDEN OF FRANCE




Sandra london, day-dreaming & reminiscing about paris =)



AUX JARDINS DE LA VALLEE DE LA LOIRE- ANGERS, FRANCE


Follow The Grind

Thursday, June 12, 2014

***NEW Sandra LONDON Erotica: NO DISPATCH***

 
NO DISPATCH

At 04h17, on 18 APR 1911, I had about come undone. Finito. Cooked. Over.

I know this now.

You won't.

It is what is in the writing that counts, above all things.


DECEASED: Jane or John Doe.
TIME OF DEATH: 01H20


There are three whole hours in there, or, just about. And one or more others, or thereabout.


I remember.

My hair. Down to there. Everywhere.

My tongue. My tears.

My tits. My pussy. Pretty skull.


The cold. Darkness.


The Order:

Lean back, look up, eyes closed.
Wrap your lips 'round. 

Sealed. Skintight.

The light. Ugh. Lights.

Harsh, gross. 

So profane. So brilliant. My DDs:


"Mais, moi, je ne pose pas, messieurs …I shield my brights in polite society, merci bien!"

 Sacre bleu.

The smoke. The probe.

A rescue. A seizure.

Your hands. My waist.

A pleasant plop. Aplomb.

Eternal warmth---then abandon.


A Hoverer. A tunnel.

Alien and alone, all at the same time.

Color blind. Colorless.


A heady omnipresence of grey, gray, ghey.

A cockfest catastrophe--- with no end. 

No sight.



Some savior. Some witness.

A messenger. A call for agency.

Familiarity.

Long pause....

Vile accusations. Pressure.

A lift.


Long pause....

Restraint.

A face-plant.

Long pause...


I wail. I plead. 

Mercy?


Release...an ear?


An end?

Long pause.....

I dread the blur; the wait. Fluid time.


I seek connaissance:

"I could be more than me! Possibly! 1 and 1/9th ? 1 and 2/9th ? Maybe less? Maybe more? Let's see..."


A producer, if you will. 

Produce, if you must. 

Or insist. 

But never. Not ever---- A director.


A dwelling, per se. Per chance. (Curtilage included.)


A box within a box.

Packaging: Born at sea. 

Submission: Born in the air.


This box squared. 
On Ready-made display.


THIS Play.

Window-lady. 

Window-girl.

Wonder, woman.


"LMP? NOK?"


Look at. Talk at. 

Written around. Written without. 

Stamped within. Shrouded in code.

Valued at: 1/9th , maybe 2/9th but never as 1.


Time of Birth: 04h17.

Time of Death: 01h20.


Rewind.
A Still Life.



 *************
THE END

Your Last Breath,
Sandra LONDON 


 ***Pictures coming soon


Follow The Grind