This is the place where you can personalize your profile!
By moving, adding and personalizing widgets.
You can drag and drop to rearrange.
You can edit widgets to customize them.
The bottom has widgets you can add!
Some widgets you can only access when you get a premium membership.
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We've split the page into zones!
Certain widgets can only be added to certain zones.
"Why," you ask? Because we want profile pages to have freedom of customization, but also to have some consistency. This way, when anyone visits a deviant, they know they can always find the art in the top left, and personal info in the top right.
Don't forget, restraints can bring out the creativity in you!
Now go forth and astound us all with your devious profiles!
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"Advil right?" I nod. "Don't make that face Mommy is going to bring you CANDAHHHH!" She smiles and I long to go pixie and tickle her and drag her to the floor and laugh; but ... ugh I have no energy and a small fever and I know that I'd just lay my weight upon her and fall asleep. My eyes feel crossed and blurred and my hearing's ocean layers deep even when I tilt my head and perk my eyes to read the lips I adore.
"Okay I'll be back in 20 minutes" and she's out the door, I do manage to hear the dead bolt thrown. She's lectured me all morning about it "WTF do you expect Mandino? You sit with no slippers with your bare feet on the floor, you toss and turn and kick the covers off you; you are like ice in the mornings." I've tried to explain that as much as I long to believe that that is what occurs to cause coughs and colds that it's just another plague virus unleashed from a box she opened in our long agos.
She's making me soup, that Zen like fine preparation that our Yiddish and Hasidim ancestors, that Ruth herself served to the congested ancestors we share. I know of course the cause of my head and chest failures, of the fever and coughs and my sleep desires; it's the stress of new and the challenges have taken their toll. The uncertainties and worry of this her own world have gate checked my passport and found me lacking some particular stamp of permission to enter. '... sorry Mademoiselle you will need to verify once more...' I cough again and listen to the rails shiver my ribs and run my now off kilter machine mind through differential diagnoses.
I've cut the smokes down well below my addiction's stabbing desires; I avoided that third glass of wine that was offered at the chilled street bistro, I've slept at every possible opportunity and god knows I've neglected all the research and histories to complete even a part of the list of writings I've accumulated. I still wake at odd hours of this new to me houred night, a far different portion of the orb we sit on and rotate. I quit trying to be clever because my wits are cotton bundled and gap toothed at this time. I'm fucking sick and I knew it would happen, I know my own patterns and probably should have prepared and cared for myself better.
My head, always a mess has gone on Labor Action Italian and is somewhere else than I am at this moment. It is shouting and marching and dancing on some sunny street, it is youthful and proud and brave while I am reduced and lazy and ugly infirm. What IS it about head colds that make me want to pass my contagion on in the most intimate ways that I know? Ugh … just cut my head off and I'll be okay.
I became a loom ... a work of wood and oils and flesh and pain ... I became words, woven together to impart myself, an offering of memory and love ... I became a crowd of voices longing for that final color that might complete ... I found her, a sorceress who located my heart ... I am Amanda here to open, here to pound loud and set you upon a journey ...
Favorite visual artistNatalie Shau. (long list of DA photographers and manipulation freaks)(Leana*kiss)Favorite moviesHigh Art, La Femme NikitaFavorite TV showsCarnivale, Walking Dead, Two Broke Girls, NOVA, Discovery Channel (anything)Favorite bands / musical artistsCollide, Apocalyptica, Blonde Redhead, DIE ANTWOORD!Favorite booksKissing Dead Girls, Look at Me, The Keep, Ghost WalkFavorite writersJennifer Eagen, Daphne Gottlieb, Marina Tsvetqeva, Sofia Parnok, S.PlathFavorite gamesspin the bottle, whack a trollFavorite gaming platformpool table, bar topTools of the TradeMac Book Air, Windoze 7 crate of crap, Nikon D200, Epson Perfection V750 ProOther Interestsphotography, modeling, kleptomania, screaming at strangers and then stun gunning them
For the ensconced demented deviants among us!
Yes, I AM a gay American woman; and damn proud of that. I flirt shamelessly with females, males, and photos of kittens. Anyone who let’s that go to their heads (eyes.the.homophobic.female.artist) is not only stupid but arrogant.