 General Info
| I Am Here For: |
For a New Experience, To Explore My Sexuality, To Meet People |
| Marital Status: |
Single |
| Children: |
Eventually |
| Education: |
In College |
| Religion: |
N/A |
| Smoke: |
No |
| Drink: |
Yes |
| Occupation: |
college |
| Body Type: |
Slim / Slender |
| Height: |
5' 1" |
| Ethnicity: |
White / Caucasian |
| Languages: |
English |
My Web Gifts
A gift from uname
Note:
Content:
Sent
12/12/2012
|
Pookie's Scoop
About me:
I wrestled with reality for years, and I'm happy to state I finally won out over it.
The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes awwww...
Dum Vivimus Vivamus
Wild, mischievous, fey and kooky. I'm a Pooka from old Celtic mythology - a fairy spirit in human form - always very cute. The Pooka appears here and there - now and then - to this one and that one - a benign but mischievous fun loving creature - very fond of rumpots, crackpots, fleshpots and honeypots.
Sweet and fickle...quick and lazy. Big trouble and a royal pain. Damn if the Pooka don't drive me crazy. Damn if the Pooka don't keep me sane. I am fast but she is faster. Wonder how she managed that?. She just laughed when I asked her. All you need is a hob-stitched hat.
My best friend Harvey (yes he's a pooka too) and I sit in the bars... have a drink or two... play the juke box. And soon the faces of all the other people they turn toward mine and they smile. And they're saying, "We don't know your name, miss, but you're a very nice girl." Harvey and I warm ourselves in all these golden moments. We've entered as strangers - soon we have friends. And they come over... and they sit with us... and they drink with us... and they talk to us. They tell about the big terrible things they've done and the big wonderful things they'll do. Their hopes, and their regrets, and their loves, and their hates. All very large, because nobody ever brings anything small into a bar.
Bide the Wiccan Law ye must,
In perfect Love and perfect trust.
Eight words the Wiccan Rede fulfils
An' ye harm none, do what ye will.
What ye send forth comes back to thee.
So ever mind the rule of three.
Follow this with mind and heart,
Merry ye meet, and merry ye part.
Who I'd like to meet:
Young and mature people. Odd balls, multi-faceted dice and square pegs in round holes. Wild, mischievous, fey, kooky, black naughty ravens called Mortimer who eats stairs and little green Wombolian frogs called Bulgy who have amazing adventures.
Monologist Bransby Williams
Wilson, Keppel, and Betty
George Formby
Alexandre Luigini ( Ballet Egyptien)
|
More About Pookie
My Other Profile/Website Links:
N/A
Interests:
Supernatural, Unexplained phenomena and Carrot Psychology
Founder of the Adopt a Pooka Trust.
Lifetime member of the Spiderpig fan club
Spiderpig...spiderpig...does whatever a spiderpig does. Can he fly?
No he can't...Cos he's just a spiderpig.
Proud owner of the retirement Home for ancient bewildered Galapagos Turtles.
My Favorite Websites:
N/A
Music:
New Age
'I like Bananas because they have no bones' by The Hoosier Hotshots
'Do shrimps make good mothers?' by The Two Gilberts
'On the Road to Mandalay' by Kenneth McKellar
Movies:
Harvey...
Firefly...
Browncoats are the shiniest people in the Verse.
Books:
Fantasy, Mortimer the Raven books, Bulgy the Little Frog and his Adventures in Wombolia with his friends Prince Owlet, William Caterpillar and Cackle the Witch.
Huffity, puffity, Ringstone Round,
If you lose your hat it will never be found,
So pull your britches right up to your chin,
And fasten your cloak with a bright new pin,
And when you are ready, then we can begin,
Huffity, puffity, puff!
There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Kathmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town;
There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the Yellow God forever gazes down.
by J. Milton Hayes
|
|
