Au cours de la semaine qu’on a passée dans le briançonnais, en été 2002, pour parcourir les via ferrata du coin, on s’est offert une matinée de break pour faire du raft. Comme c’était la première fois pour tout le monde, et qu’on avait 3 petits marcassins dans l’équipe, la dame du bureau elle a pas voulu qu’on aille sur une rivière qui bastonne d’entrée. Alors on a embarqué sur la Durance, une rivière tranquillou au milieu d’autres bidochons comme nous…

Au début, le monsieur qui barre notre bateau, il nous explique bien tout qu’est-ce qui faut faire, puis en route pour la descente, à la suite d’un paquet d’autres embarcations. Mais on a peur que ça ressemble un peu trop à du promène-couillons, alors on envisage de pimenter l’affaire… Devant nous, deux rafts commencent à s’agaçer, à coup d’éclaboussures de rames, “pouh t’es mouillé ! “, et de pistolet à eau.   

Nous on était déjà tous trempés parce qu’on venait de faire à notre guide le coup de “Géronimo” :  Géronimo, c’est un code secret qu’on s’était donné entre nous avant le départ, et lorsqu’on a lancé ce cri de guerre au bout de 5 minutes de raft, on s’est tous jetés dans la rivière, laissant notre barreur descendre tout seul le courant, tout le monde flottant éparpillé à sa poursuite.

Bon, on remonte, et on lui demande si on peut balancer son collègue dans le raft devant, qui joue à éclabousser tout le monde. Il nous met au défi d’y arriver, alors nous on intéresse la partie en négociant la gratuité de la descente si on y parvient. Il trouve ça pas raisonnable, et préfère parier un pot en bas. La suite se passe très vite, on approche de l’autre raft, en hurlant debout sur les boudins, on plonge au milieu du tas, on attrape le guide qui se débat comme un beau diable, et on le balance à l’eau sous l’oeil médusé de ses clients qui sont livrés à eux-même dans un bateau fou.  Comme on est beau joueur, et qu’on lui a un peu tordu ses magnifiques lunettes de soleil, on l’aide à reprendre le contrôle et à remonter dans son embarcation.  

On se prend vite au jeu, et on se met à souquer comme des malades en direction d’autres cibles. Bientôt un deuxième guide part à la baille, puis un troisième qu’on hésite a épargner parce qu’il a une angine, mais bon ! dans l’euphorie, il y va quand même… On commence à faire des émules : d’autres touristes foncent en direction de notre raft qu’on avait laissé sous la garde des mamans et des marcassins, pendant qu’on abordait une quatrième embarcation. Il faut revenir d’urgence pour protéger notre guide, car il est hors de question, s’il doit aller à un moment à l’eau, que ça ne soit pas nous qui l’y mettions !

Plus bas, des cris attirent notre attention. A un endroit, les guides précipitent volontairement les embarcations contre la paroi qui borde la rivière, les clients hurlant avant l’impact. Notre tour arrive, et notre guide découvre l’esprit “flying” lorsqu’il nous voit pagayer comme des malades de façon de plus en plus frénétique, pour donner le maximum de vitesse à notre raft avant l’impact… qui se révéle à la hauteur de nos espérances.

Passage de la “vague du Rabiou”, puis de zones plus ludiques. On balance des barreurs à l’eau, de-ci de-là. Le drapeau noir flotte sur notre raft. Notre guide commence à se lâcher, et il donne des coups de barre impromptus dans les remous, pour essayer de nous débarquer, mais on tient bon dans ce rodéo, et tout le monde est à son poste quand se profile à l’horizon l’arrivée à Embrun.

Mais l’aventure s’arrête brusquement, quand l’un d’entre nous a l’idée stupide de graver, dans les boudins de notre raft, une croix au couteau pour chaque bateau arraisonné…

A brand new feature!  Just when you thought it could not get any better than this!  Inspired partly by tonight’s Colbert Report, partly by own love of poetry, and partly by a certain v. literary friend, I have decided to share different, beloved poems w/ you, my lucky readers.

But wait!  It gets better!  HOW CAN THIS BE?  Well, afterwards I will include my commentary and annotations free of charge.  

I will begin w/ Anne Sexton, b/c imo she is too-oft overlooked by the general population, especially among her fellow country(wo)men.  She is somewhat overshadowed by the legendary Sylvia Plath, and discounted as “the other one who, you know, committed suicide.”  Despite this, you may have a passing familiarity w/ pieces like “Cinderella,” “Courage,” and “Her Kind.”  Anne Sexton was a v. gifted poet in her own right, and many of her words and images are truly arresting.  Her poems are irreverent and raw; her struggle is real; her morals ambiguous.  Whether she is writing about love, motherhood, religion, or death, her poems are tinged with a poignant melancholy, which complement her wry observations about the absurd injustices of life. 

 LETTER WRITTEN ON A FERRY WHILE CROSSING LONG ISLAND SOUND

I am surprised to see
that the ocean is still going on.
Now I am going back
and I have ripped my hand
from your hand as I said I would
and I have made it this far
as I said I would
and I am on the top deck now
holding my wallet, my cigarettes
and my car keys
at 2 o’clock on a Tuesday
in August of 1960.

Dearest,
although everything has happened,
nothing has happened.
The sea is very old.
The sea is the face of Mary,
without miracles or rage
or unusual hope,
grown rough and wrinkled
with incurable age.

Still,
I have eyes.
These are my eyes:
the orange letters that spell
ORIENT on the life preserver
that hangs by my knees;
the cement lifeboat that wears
its dirty canvas coat;
the faded sign that sits on its shelf
saying KEEP OFF.
Oh, all right, I say,
I’ll save myself.

Over my right shoulder
I see four nuns
who sit like a bridge club,
their faces poked out
from under their habits,
as good as good babies who
have sunk into their carriages.
Without discrimination
the wind pulls the skirts
of their arms.
Almost undressed,
I see what remains:
that holy wrist,
that ankle,
that chain.

Oh God,
although I am very sad,
could you please
let these four nuns
loosen from their leather boots
and their wooden chairs
to rise out
over this greasy deck,
out over this iron rail,
nodding their pink heads to one side,
flying four abreast,
the the old-fashioned side stroke;
each mouth open and round,
breathing together
as fish do,
singing without sound.

Dearest,
see how my dark girls sally forth,
over the passing lighthouse of Plum Gut,
its shell as rusty
as a camp dish,
as fragile as a pagoda
on a stone;
out over the little lighthouse
that warns me of drowning winds
that rub over its blind bottom
and its blue cover;
winds that will take the toes
and the ears of the rider
or the lover.

There go my dark girls,
their dresses puff
in the leeward air.
Oh, they are lighter than flying dogs
or the breath of dolphins;
each mouth opens gratefully,
wider than a milk cup.
My girls sing for this.
They are going up.
See them rise
on black wings, drinking
the sky, without smiles
or hands
or shoes.
They call back to us
from the gauzy edge of paradise,
good news, good news.

This is a strange and wonderful poem, more straightforwardly outlandish than some of Sexton’s other work.  We begin in August of 1960–which I know v. little about, since I would not be called into existence for decades to come–and yet I am drawn into the scene.  I can v. easily imagine myself as the woman on this deck, my hair blowing in the salt air, cool despite the August heat, scribbling this letter as I watch the surf etch its own calligraphy onto the dark parchment of the sea.  I can imagine the floorboards on which I stand, slick w/ spray, and see the forlorn lifeboat, with its hostile sign.  I love that litany “as I said I would;” so much of our sadness stems from resentment and regret geared towards the ones we love.  And b/c we love them, we often feel guilty for being angry. 

As the seagulls wheel above, it’s easy to imagine the group of nuns, sitting on fold-out chairs.  Nuns–the eternal virgins–are traditionally symbols of purity.  They would have none of the worldly accoutrements the narrator describes herself as owning: money, a car, cigarettes.  They are utterly passive, as sheltered as children, but unlike children, seemingly uncurious. 

And though the narrator is sad, she is able to amuse herself by imagining these staid women lifted up by some great gust of wind, floating like funereal balloons over the vast blue of the sea, buffeted but unharmed by the chilling winds.  Notice how once they are free of their earthly links, the leather and wood and iron that bind them, they cease to be nuns.  They are just “girls,” so carefree they are literally floating.  They drift all the way to paradise, offering one last message before they disappear utterly. 

This poem is about imprisonment and freedom.  The world is a patient, unfeeling thing, insulated from the fleeting suffering of its inhabitants.  The narrator realizes this.  Everything has happened, but nothing has really happened, and it will all happen again in any case.  She is aboard a large, sturdy ship, but she carefully eyes the safety implements around her, before dismissing them as inadequate; she’ll have to save herself.  But this is perhaps too much to contemplate, so she projects her wishes onto a group of nearby nuns, praying that some god will grant them flight, so that they can waft away, escaping the pull of earth and sea, and disappear into heaven.  Paradise has a weightless quality.  The nuns are unburdened; they don’t even take their shoes w/ them.  The narrator must feel trapped on this vessel, where she cannot board the lifeboat, and where material possessions and emotional ties weigh her down.  Why else would she feel a need to enumerate upon her possessions, if they weren’t signicant symbols of the main components of her life.  And she is not addressing just anyone, but someone close to her, a dear friend, perhaps, or a lover.  The imagery is comical–you can just see the nuns, bobbing along like pink-headed parade balloons, mouths agape w/ surprise–which also serves to emphasize the impossibility of liberation.  Can one be free?  Sure…when dogs fly.  Reality is bleak.  The nuns will remain nodding in their chairs; the narrator will return to the place she fled; the tide will continue its rise and fall.  As if nothing ever happened.  As if it had all already happened.

I’ve read quite a bit of Sexton’s work, and while I don’t think she was a feminist per se, I think she recognized the plight of many women.  She herself was deeply unhappy.  She never drew any connection, though, btwn that unhappiness and the restrictions placed upon her by the patriarchal culture.

Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed this premier installment of POETRY HOUR W/ DRAGON.  Be sure to tune in next time for more unresearched rambling by someone who does not have any kind of literary degree!

It’s no secret that I feel strongly that Smallville is single-handedly the best show on television, and possibly one of the greatest shows ever to air. This makes my opinion quite biased in arguments related to it. But this also makes me incredibly excited for all matter of news related to it as well. Such as this brand new DVD box art for season 8 of the hit show.

I definitely think that the Smallville DVD box art is becoming awesome. This is by far my favorite and I can’t wait to see what’s in store for season 9 of the show. Smallville airs Thursday nights at 8pm on The CW Network.

Hit the jump to view the full DVD box art, in normal and high resolution.

CLICK FOR HIGH RESOLUTION //

Dear Sexy Urban Male,

We’d like to introduce you to someone new. Tart. She’s a sexy, smart shop with a playful attitude and piquant confidence. Tart is full of luxurious delights for both men and women including a collection of irresistibly masculine fragrances.

"L'ome" by Durance

Like L’ome (Durance) and Panama (Borsalino): two well-rounded scents for men. L’ome is a refined blend of citrus, floral and spice as tasteful as the wood-paneled library in a country home. Borsalino’s Panama reminds us of a good bottle of oaked chardonnay with its light start and warm finishing notes of cashmere, wood, and amber.

"Panama" by Borsalino

 Tart also has three elegant scents from the Pal Zileri line. Pal Zileri Concept has the well-tailored feel of an Italian linen suit, starting with crisp notes of grapefruit and green apple and aging into oakmoss, sandalwood and vetiver. Pal Zileri Lab is like the cool fragrant air of an Italian summer evening. This scent appeals to the young, self-assured entrepreneur who is no stranger to attention. Pal Zileri #18 is for the young outdoorsman of the “round of golf anyone?” type. This scent confidently blends notes of citrus, vetiver and oakmoss into a perfume with assurance and poise.

Men's Scents at Tart

And we think you’ll love the versatile Police Uomo. With its peppery spice and woody finish it suits all ages. Its refined green freshness makes it an easy scent to wear.

We think you should get to know Tart. We know you’ll get along beautifully.

See you soon,
The Smart Lasses at Tart

Erica Durance (Lois Lane) desnuda!

Para a todos aquellos jariosos que se la chaquetean por la putita mosca muerta novia del homosexuado supergay de Smallville, aqui les van  estas imagenes de cuando la zorra en cuention, llamada Erica Durance, aparecio enseñando sus apetitosas tetas en una de las fallidas peliculas de House Of Dead. La putita en cuestion, ahora idola juvenil el Gringolandia, niega (como siempre) que sea ella, aun cuando las imagenes hablan por si solas. Cuestion aparte es que la pelicula esta legalmente dentro de su filmografia, cuando era una actriz de poca (muy poca) monta y se hacia llamar Erica Parker y a lo mas que parecia llegar era a actriz porno. Pero de repente (de seguro despues de un buen acoston con algun ejecutivo) aparecio en la serie superpoderosa para gays y metrosexuales, con nuevo look y nombre. Ahora es una estrella y se olvido que por lo unico que aparecia en peliculas Lado B era por animarse a enseñar pezones. Un ejemplo mas de como la gente olvida  y niega sus origenes… que tragico… la neta!

by: Lindsay

At Tart, you’ll find a wealth of gorgeous items for gift-giving season.

Here are some ideas:

Beautiful French soaps, lotions and scents by Durance are made from natural ingredients such as lavender, rose, Madonna lily, and vanilla ylang ylang.

Durance soaps, lotions, and scents

At $12, Durance pillow spray is a small price to pay for the luxury of scented linens. In various scents, from classic lavender to “Passionate night”, these make nice stocking stuffers and put a new twist on the hostess gift.

Durance Pillow Spray

Jaguar Miniature Collection

Exotic, richly scented body butters, perfumes, soaps, and long-burning scented soya candles from Pacifica will set the mood for house guests. Try Spanish Amber (Edie’s favorite), Madagascar Spice, or Hawaiian Ruby Guava.

Pacifica Scented Soy Candles

High-end sleepwear and loungewear from the Seattle-based company Zovo will please any woman in your life. In elegant prints and colour palettes of eggplant and blush, silk pajamas and plush robes will pamper your loved one.

Zovo Sleepwear

Superb men’s dress shirts from Bugatchi Uomo are perfect partnered with a classic fedora from Christy’s Crown, or even better, an amazing hat by Anthony Peto. These stylish, elegant shirts are perfect for all those holiday parties.

Bugatchi Uomo Men's Shirts

From Sonia Spencer of the UK, we have unique, whimsical moving-image cufflinks! One pair features a woman dancing with a pink feather boa, another pictures a pole-dancer. Fun for everyone, these will be great conversation-starters.

Sonia Spencer Cuff Links

Spending Christmas alone with your significant other? Reasonably priced gift sets by Kama Sutra add some sparkle to your holiday with scented and flavoured oils, honey dust, massage oils, feather ticklers and pleasure balms. All are pleasing to the eye with their sophisticated packaging.

Kama Sutra Gift Sets

Fun stocking stuffers include panty rolls from the Brazilian company, Scala; Blush organza candy roll panties; Zovo thongs in a purse set or a boxed set including a sampling all their varieties; stockings, thigh highs or sexy knee socks by Leg Avenue; Hue leg warmers, tights, or over the knee socks. Or choose something from our inspiring collection of erotica.

Scala Panty Roll

And of course, we have beautifully packaged Gift Certificates! Sealed with wax and presented in a beautiful envelope that will make an impact when received! Available in any denomination.

Köpte ett nytt tvålfat på Åhlèns för 99 kr. Liknar sten, men det är sementerat. Den härliga tvålen som doftar Lavendel kommer från Durance, samma gör doftljuset bredvid, som doftar kanel/äpple.

Det franska märket Durance har så utroligt härliga produkter med så snygg design, dessa flaskor och förpackningar skall absolut stå framme, till exempel i ditt badrum eller sovrum. Nedan lite produkter som badskum, duschtvål, bodylotion och tvålar. Durance har också ett fint badsalt. Produkterna levereas i olika dofter som lavendel, vanilj, ros, jasmin m.fl.

Står du og mangler det helt rigtige brugskunst i din stue eller køkken, så er Magnolia Living lige en netbutik for dig. Med et stort sortiment inden for blandt andet fransk landstil, country living og sommerhusstilen vil der helt sikkert være noget der passer i din stil.

Du kan også vælge at forkælle dig selv eller dine kære med nogle utrolig lækre produkter fra franske Durance. Du kan blandt andet købe massageolie, badesalt og en skøn showergel.

Dyp storetåen i et varmt badekar fylde med badesalt og skum. Det er ren velvære og noget der er godt for både krop og sjæl. Prøv nogle af de skønne produkter fra franske Durance og oplev en verden af renhed og skønhed.

Smallville é uma merda, mas a Lois… AH, LOIS!

Erica Durance é o nome da moça.