The Dark Side Of Pony Land (not for kids)

Have you noticed that you are sitting here basically talking to yourself, EskarinaSmith? Kind of makes me wonder if you have any friends or if you are one of the 350 lb loser chicks that sit on the computer all day and type to watch yourself type, yanno?

"The Hammer Has Fallen, A Thorn In Your Side"-HammerFall

So after that little rant I suppose I ought to write something about My Little Ponies. I got a new one this christmas. A blue pegasus pony "Blueberry Baskets". Aside: I am enjoying a blueberry muffin at the mo, it is 2 in the morning but I realised after being questioned about my weight that actually I could care less and can stuff my face with whatever I choose - I did used to have a few extra pounds but I ignored them for long enough that they decided to leave of their own accord - it is great when no effort is involved and I can enjoy the finer things in life.

I do hate the fact that personality is rarely in question but physical appearance. The most interesting people I know carry a little excess baggage. Those that don't tend to be shallow and vain. Not that I would generalise.

Just take the little ponies. Avereage ponies although not perfect examples of how to behave are on the whole those that are more likeable, the flutter ponies, skinny little waifs, were rude and hermitic. There are always exceptions but I think there is something in it.

I spent much time over the past few months trying to keep my head in a slightly more stable place but have failed. I began wondering why I want to surround myself with ephemeral things such as little plastic horse toys. Although cute, are not universally accepted as objects of either great worth or beauty. They are far from individual and their morals are questionable. I have yet to answer myself but have been exploring different possible reasons.

I formed an attachement at a young age and they represent a familiar time of my life. I had what could be described as a moderatly traumatic childhood and I wish to recreate and re live a time that was stolen from me. I am also trying to maintain a hold of my youth because at 25 I still feel young but find that the world is slipping through my fingers. I enjoy all the pretty colours. I have to keep spending money and a few quid on a toy is much less that expensive clothes - and being a fashion designer I have little need in this area. My boyfriend still has his transformers and I got him a megatron with mini tape deck style robots inside so I don't feel alone.

There are no valid excuses for someone like me but truth is they make me happy, and in a world where people are killing eachother for no reason I need something to help me smile. I think that pink acts as a replacement for chocolate and helps to release endorphins in the brain. It is why the little ponies are so happy. The drugs just add to the experience of living in a world where you can have pink houses.

Having said that my Grandparents lived in Essex (A county in East Anglia if you are from somewhere that has never heard of places in England - Its that little island just before you get to Europe - you know where they invented the language that you all speak) Sorry little gripe but really stop saying London, England or we might have to start saying New York, New York, America and that just takes far to long to say and by now we'd hope that you would know.

Back to Essex, and for those of you who do know where it is pretend it is a very interesting place and try to neglect mentioning what residents of that reigon of the world are of a certain, well, 'class'. Anyway, there are a surfeit of homes in this charming little county that are painted a rather interesting shade of pink, very traditional but does look a little chavvy. (If you dont understand you weren't meant to) I think the pink is just the wrong tonal range to release the endorphins but instead release and overblown sense of self and inabitlity to dress well, or dress. That was harsh but based on numerous encounters so the guilt was fleeting.

Perhaps it was those memories I was trying to recreate? Or re write. Till next time I have a hole in my social calendar x x Esk x x

THE DARKEST HOUR IS JUST BEFORE DAWN

Ok so the pressure is on . . . the next cigarette is lit, and I really will think about living a healthier lifestyle once I have 'gotten' over the tremendous surge of pride? no I think perhaps the word I seek is excitement. I am read. No not red. By other people. Hmm. Sorry I should really put a health warning on this thread. I do not really condone the use of drugs, but I think that I should. The greatest musicians and thinkers of all time had some form of habit or other. Imagine - well exactly, John Lennon! If there were no drugs - alcohol or other vices would this world not be as interesting, or as progressive and there would be no good music. Even Mozart had a serious problem with drugs and alcohol.

So here goes. Natural remidies. Cotton Candy, one of the more underrated little ponies, has a rather naughty habit which we will get to presently. She should be credited as one of the founding members of the MLP society, as one of the first ponies ever to exist. Her habit is chewing blue grass. I don't think this refers to her red-neck country roots, but to a mind expanding herbal substance.

For those of us, me, who had to study the topic of colour every year of my scholastic life you will most likely be aware that blue and purple are very close in the spectrum. And for those of us who may have sampled the delights of a colourful range of inhailable substances, we will also be aware that the darker the 'herb', the stronger it seems to be. Purple Haze?

I suppose where this is all really going is what ever happened to those original little ponies. They were, if you know what the toys looked like, very stoned looking, doped up to the eyeballs in fact. Is there a rehab centre in pony land? What happens to those little ponies that have eaten more mushrooms than they should?

Thinking about it, what are their hallucinations like? Perhaps those ponies that are tripping instead of seeing the world in pinkish pastel perfection they see everything in the light of the cold dingy winter world I am in at the moment.

I would suggest that they all have moved to live with lemon drop in the show stable.

Thats enough of the equine chat for now. I got my new guitar last weekend. Electro acoustic so I can practice being a raucous hippy! I can't play very well but as I have no intention of playing in public, this fails to deter me. I did notice that in one of the little pony episodes called bright lights there is this Zebra, sort of punk or new romantic looking, but musically fairly inept. It does beg the question how in pony land does he manage to pick the sodding thing up, let alone strum it? I thought aposable thumbs were a pre requisite. And even then I never saw an orangutan play guitar and they even have aposable toes.

That episode did verge on obscene actually. I remember it only vaguely but I believe it had peadophilic overtones, not to mention the cross species attraction. These baby ponies were enamoured of the Zebra (like humans fancying a lemur (I was thinking of the monochromatic stripes)- they are darn cute though.0 They are definatly under age and he is probably twice as old as they are judging by the apparent age of his mother - she has wrinkles. That actually disturbed me. All these wrinkly mishapen horses that suddenly found themselves surrounded by exotic multi coloured filly's. How depressing.

I did work in a fashion house for a while and had to help back stage at a catwalk (runway) show. One of the models was Liberty Ross. She is one of those beautiful people who you can't hate because she is actually nice too. I felt like a grundle.

Back to Cotton Candy, and the issue with thumbs. She has to chew. If she was able I am sure she would roll it in some paper but stoned as she is it would take too much effort.

THE DARKEST HOUR IS JUST BEFORE DAWN

Ok, so today I actually have a fair bit of time on my hands. My fingers are red raw from my steel stringed six-string ( I adore alliteration), so I am happy to have the gentle warmth of the keys gently clicking beneath my fingers. I did formerly think that the satisfaction of the heavy clunk of the keyboard on my 386 Packard Bell would never be replaced, and prior to that the almost forgotten typewriter I inherited from my Step-Grandmother (aside: My Grandad married again at the age of 89 and spent the last few years of his life in a second blisfully happy marriage - life does reward the wonderful people) - however there is a silky soft set () of keys beneth my fingers now attached to the sexiest laptop of all time and I have trouble stopping touching them once I have started. You might think this affection for an inanimate object is troublesome, but we will pretend that it is ok.

So as personal appearance is currently on my mind and this is a place where we choose to maintain our anonimity by concealing our physical nature, this will be my topic of the day. Being without image has both its benefits and drawbacks. It is quite a shock to find out the way we are viewed by others. As a previous intruder thought that I was terminally heavy I was bemused enough to begin revealing a little about what I look like, but this could all be lies - would it make a difference. I doubt it as peoples imaginations can only form images they wish to see (we are of course here not including any occasions when our imaginations might be tampered with by external forces (or internally imbibed substances). I suppose what I am driving at is that what is seen in the minds eye is created from an emotional response to what is read. I have now a dilema. I wish for my 'personality' to speak for itself and escape from the shallow fashion driven world where the image of self is purely an external one. Think of dear David de Beckham. He is a stunningly attractive man - he photographs so well he looks divine but then he opens his mouth and the myth is dispelled and he has become a parody of himself. My quandry is that even in the world where no one sees your face and your appearance is purely of your own creation I appeared to one individual as a heffer (an english term for a large woman - a female milk giving cow)

It has compelled me to at least steer the imagination in the right direction as a base around which one might build a form. I could be described as somewhat diminutive, I have height related issues, but I do not feel uncomfrtable next to my 6 foot tall BF. My hair is long, perhaps to the point of being too long and requires much brushing. I neglect to do this as often as necessary so I tend to look dishevled (I spell very poorly, but love vocabulary so bluster through in the hopes that I make myself understood). Although I studied fashion I tend to only wear one pair of rather faded jeans in a greyish shade, that are wearing thin in some places and are at least 8 inches too long. When not in these I wear black. I had slightly leaned towards the Craft in my youth but have decided having a belief in anything is too much for someone as self centred as myself so I waver on the boarders between athiesm and agnosticism. I know this has little to do with how I look but it is the essence of my soul and you can see that apathy in my eyes so I thought I had better mention it. They are hazel brown as is my hair.

I am not especially interesting to look at, plain or normal at best at worst - well as you may have gleaned from certain insights into my ahem 'former' lifestyle it does get fairly bad - red circles around my eyes etc - bedraggled is my most usual state. I avoid makeup unless trying to prove a point that I can look pretty, the man in my life looks like a stauesque god from ancient greece so I must pull it off sometimes. (No kidding, he is a sort of Jim Morrison, Aragorn mix with the wit and wisdom of Chaucer or Shakespeare.) I love men who forget to shave for a week. Something raw and tempting about a man with hair on his face. Like he's enticing you to delve under the surface to see what he is like inside.

I always aim to include some ferfernce to MLP's here so that I dont get removed! Anyone who goes as far as reading this will have some understanding of my love of ponies. I have recently become aware of a whole new level of pony adicts. There are people who are creative and funny who have taken to customising the newer G3 (generation 3) pony toys and giving them new hair, symbols and sometimes go as far as re modelling completely. I have seen a Gandalf pony with beard, a Harry Potter "Buckbeak" eagle headed pony and all manor of dinosaurs and mythical creature ponies.

I realised that though I may be a little odd, I am not alone. Long may the culture of the strange and bizarre continue.

AS LONG AS YESTERDAY COMES BEFORE TOMORROW WE WILL BE FINE

Smiles.

Twas brillig and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wabe, all mimsy were the borogoves and the mome raths outgrabe.

A little ditty that appeals to me at times of speechlessness. And speaking of cats and mushrooms . . . I have green mushrooms in my garden. They are not edible in any circumstances but I sometimes lay down on the grass and look at them closely incase one of them begins to sing and give me a rainbow locket.

I often wonder, well only the once but I thought it was a point worth debate, what would I do with a rainbow of light (the). I think although I would love to solve world hunger and instigate world peace, I dont think rainbows no matter how magical would have those powers. I think, being far more inclined to indulge myself, I would actually just put it up in my garden. I would go over it, as every little girl would, but as it would already be in my back yard I might actually get something more than stupid advice from a crackpot old man with a green castle.

Hmm, I think I got a little lost for a while.

I am often very thankful that I live in a world where I can have an interest in childrens toys and films. I think I have over 100 little ponies. I am slightly neurotic so am in the process of taking photo's of all of them and putting them in boxes, then listing them all on the computer. I am moving house soon so I do need to pack but I have problems so I have in fact begun to list everything I own. I think I have 2000 books. Not all of them are interesting. Nor have I read them all. But I love books. If I could I would live in a library. It is not solely for my love of literature, but the smell is hypnotic. It takes me back in time when I open an old book. I do wish that the information would without effort transfer to my mind through some sort of osmosis - I guess that's why I like audio books. I have just been the delighted recipient of many Terry Pratchett audio books. When I was very young I had a pony one I may have previously mentioned, fergus the shepheard boy. There is this bit at the end where Majesty and the other little ponies help the shepheard pretend to be a prince by making him a palace by magic. It was so perfect. There were these bushes in the garden that behaved like fireworks (pinwheels) but when they were finished spinning they became some form of candy that you could eat. How trippy is that?

I lose concentration when it gets this late. I love to sleep. Not that I actually do, but the idea of that perfect state of restfulness that eludes me. I wish I had a bed made of those clouds that you so often see in childrens cartoons. The kind that you can bounce on and sink into. The ones that carebears have.

I have wondered if I was brave enough to have a tatoo would I get a symbol on my ass. No, but I thought about it. I would not go with my alter ego fizzy, bubbles would be funny but vulgar.

Do you ever get to that point when your brain seems to function on a higher (question: would that be an higher?) plane. Where the whole world seems to make perfect sense and the true meaning of life seems obvious and hysterically funny. I often have these intense moments of insightful revelation but when it comes to putiing it all into words they skitter away from me like squirrils up trees. Not London squirrils I might add, they are quite the friendly little buggers who hang around hopefully waiting to be fed. The feeling I am left with is one of utter apathy. It is all a joke. A very funny one, that you never get to hear the punchline of. Perplexed is a fantastic state for the mind. It makes one realise that although there is so much that we do not yet know at least there are those of us who would understand were it ever to be discovered.

The reason for the apathy is that we only ever find out at the end - and I don't want to know yet. I want to brush the hair of the little horses. It tangles so easily and they cannot do it for themselves. I want to pretend that the little green one with a frog on him would make the perfect life partner for the little yellow unicorn with clovers. (Leaper & Lucky Leaf) They are so cute and the colours look so sweet together. I want to put their furniture in their house and make it all look nice - because they waited such a long time to have their home. I know what that feels like. I am still waiting to find the home I want to live in. And I dont have a Muchick to help me - even though I always check.

And I always wanted to know which side makes you larger. Alice was very fortunate. She got to try it all out. Would wonderlad be better than OZ? I think it would suit me better. I think I'd have been a little better at dealing with the flowers, but I guess I would have stayed there - but bunnies do upset me. Especially ones that wear waistcoats. Did he have a name. It cant have been Peter, but they had the same fashion sense.

I had best go to bed before I slip ever further into the memories of stories. I do feel alot safer there, but finding the way back is always difficult - perhaps I never did :-) x x Esk x x

I GIVE MYSELF VERY GOOD ADVICE, BUT I VERY SELDOM FOLLOW IT

My cat talks to me. I must learn his language. He is part siamese so is very loud but has very little grasp of english. I think he understands the word 'mouse', but has trouble with the ones 'dont bring the - inside'

Have you seen the radio active pigs with glowing noses? They will save the lives on many people I'm sure. Not in a super hero kind of way, but for transplants and the like. That would be an interesting idea though - for a cartoon maybe. Sort of Babe meets X-Men I'm thinking? Their super powered noses would radiate healing powers.

I think death by teeth would be a cool name. I have dreams about teeth. Yuck. It instills me with utter fear. Bunnies and teeth even scarier. Rodents all have scary teeth. Athough bunnies and squirrils have cute tails which sets them a little higher in my acceptance list than say rats or mice. I have a thing about bald tails. Eugh. Imagine a bunny with a rat tail. I look after this kid who has 2 bunnies. They are without exaggeration as large as a small dog. Not together either. Each one must weight 3 stone. Their ears are a foot high. If they had rats tails I would never sleep at night.

I think that little ponies must have some radioactivity. They have such a varied and unnatural aray of colours that I can't help wondering if they all suffered from an horrific accident involving a nuclear power plant. Perhaps Homer f u c k * d up again. I'm sure judging by the colour discrepencies that the planet Springfield must also be located somewhere near ponyland - perhaps the same portal leads there.

I'm all for genetic testing. I do have problems with the death penalty - in England we feel quite stongly about not killing people even if they have committed murder. Don't get me wrong most of them deserve to die but I would rather it was slowly and painfully - suffering the mental anguish of facing their sins not giving them a chance to escape them. I therefore put foward testing that would have previously been done to animals be done to those people who commit heinous crimes. Living experiments who would appease their souls by helping to save lives as payment for having taken one - or many.

JUST ANOTHER DAY IN THE WORLD OF WEIRD

I have my typing fingers back on today. I am pissed (off) and full of venom. The Secret Society Of Strange has been invaded by a misguided and uninspired interloper. I have the need to bite back and am flailing. What more can be said to push the point home - I think therefore I am - she does not think and therefore she is a law abiding citizen who requires the safety of unchanging memories to have a sense of self. So instead of fumbling any further insults I think it is time the battle began. The war will follow. The sirens may make some of us flinch but perhaps that is not so much due to the fear of being caught out doing things which are frowned upon by the sensible inhabitants of this festering earth but because we understand their connotations. The System, The Man, The Establishment call it what you will but that is what those sirens represent. A constant reminder that the most corrupt people in the world are in fact running it, controlling it's people. As I have mentioned above VIETNAM. Why is it? I ask, that it is alright to send children into a War that is wrong with their own private stash of class A drugs to kill innocent women and children but it is wrong for a moderatly well educated peace loving individual to smoke a little pot and debate the darker aspects of childrens stories. Have any of you read nursary rhymes. Ring A Round the roses a pcket full of posies a-tissue a-tissue we all fall down - it is the f u c k i * g plague. One of the most disasterous epidemics in all of history - that is dark. Children play then die. When will people get into their seive like minds that all I repeat ALL stories have underlying messages - I meerly speculate as to what those meanings might be.

If the government who are the writers of law are guilty of the worst sins of man how can anyone who seeks the truth about the corrupt establishment be admonished for using substances to aid mental development. I am no picture of perfection I have more flaws than most people but I am certainly not in the business of dictating what appropriate lifestyles are. But I do not attempt to run a country, speak on behalf of any god or alter the course of history in any monumental way (at least yet but I'm working on it - the tumor of the worst nature is deep seated and requires delecate extraction one piece at a time). I was under the impression that one of aspect of the constitution might have had a little something to do with freedom of speech.

I am grateful for as much opposition as can be passed my way. I am no great philosopher but I would thrive in an environment where my opposition had a little more - well - subtance. So far I've had - you're fat aren't you? and Drugs are bad and Ponies were good.

Has the state (I don't mean an area of land) of the "freeworld" (ps GWBush is not the leader of any freeworld I live in - the answer here is in the point - It is not a particularly free world now is it?) has become so backward that our youngest citizens are pointing the fingers their fathers made for them rather than taking it by the f u c * ing scruff of the neck and seizing it as our own. Too bloody right the meek will inherit the earth. I realise that and quail at the ramifications of it. We may be our fathers children but for the world to progress rather than regress as happened in the middle ages we should begin defining a set of ideals that have not been learned from men much less wize than ouselves and begin to shape the world to suit a society that wishes things to be better than they are. I don't think drugs should be handed out like candy to kids but at least educate them to it's uses and it's dangers rather than making it a temptation. Not one of us has the ability to avoid contact with drugs - asprin paracetemol morphine all are legitimatly administered to patients for pain relief - what is to say that they are not necessary. Who draws the line? And what is it that makes them right.

The trouble with the "freeworld" is that it believes its leaders are morally superior people who have by some divine right got enough knowlege to dictate what is right and what is wrong. Is killing people for their beliefs actually God's will - ask your leader - he thinks it is. I am sick to death of this anemic fattened generation I detest to be a part of. Are you all so blinded by media to not realise the lies the are spinning right before your eyes - or do you really not care? (ps KNOTT & Story Writer, this isn't directed at you)

But hiding in the past is not the answer - we are in ascendence. We are the parent generation now - it is our time get guts fight to the bone for what you believe, I don't really care what that is but do it with style - we are not in the playground anymore, if you don't like what is being said by the immoral amongst us work out a way to change what we think - don't just say things in the words of a child. That is the only way to win in the end. EDUCATE. Or is that something they don't offer everyone anymore. If you have the chance to influence even one person in this world it will be an achievement. I care very little for the outcome of the world (in the whole scheme of things I won't be in it for very long) - I would like the change to move to the direction of intellectual conversations to heal the wounds of our ancestors but if that's not to be at least do it knowing I repeat KNOWING that what you believe is what YOU believe not what has been fed you from birth as true fact. The people who educate you were once children who learned what they think from their elders. Who knows whether they are right or wrong? Have you ever even questioned your faith? Either in religion or in the law. They are all just the words of other people and not all people write/say things that are right.

THE BATTLE BEGINS

NOTE TO SELF:

The sword wealded in anger, although it may cut deep and true, may also take with it your foot

I have much stored bitterness and anger I have no desire to burn all those around me but I have a habit of singeing those people who stand too close with the flames.

THE DARKEST HOUR IS JUST BEFORE DAWN