The Dark Moon Bleeds Its Tears Only For Me

Love is another language.

2010-01-21T15:36:00.001-08:00

Typical. The only messages on here weren't ones asking if I was ok or where I've been, just messages in Japanese. I don't know whether they were saying that they loved me and they hoped I am doing well, but I'm going to assume they weren't.

I'm not, by the way, well, not that anyone cares.

This Accursed Internet

2008-03-26T04:33:00.000-07:00

WHY does the Internet refuse me at every turn? I try to watch a Linkin Park music video on youtube, which is hard enough because those money grabbing RIAA fuckers keep taking them down, and when I do get it, it plays for about ten seconds before telling me that it is finished. Done. End of story. Goodbye cruel world.

Thus I cannot have the musical release my soul requires. Goodbye old friend. I'll never see your face again.

The Sky Is Falling

2008-03-26T03:57:00.001-07:00

Stars drift past me on the wind. It is as though the sky has fallen.

I Cried.

2008-03-23T12:16:00.000-07:00

I was walking through the cold streets this morning amid the bitter flurries of snow, the wind biting at my skin and the snow gleaming its transience on the black of my clothes for a moment before the engine of my blood melted its beauty to tears.

On the step outside Waterstones, where I went on hunger strike last year until they agreed to buy a ramp for wheelchair access to this so spastics wouldn't have to use the goods entrance and get to see cool areas I'm not allowed to see, I found a terrible thing. Among the snow and the detritus of every town centre Sunday morning - needles, condoms and empty cans of Nurishment, there lay the headless corpse of a grey pigeon.

I wept to see such violent death in an unexpected place. Its head had been cut off with a blade. I can only assume some sick fuck killed it for a ritual or something. Animal sacrifice is so fucked up. I wish I knew who did it so I could hunt them down. Hunt them down and beg to know why they decapitated the pigeon when I could have died. Why should a pigeon gain the sweet release I crave but can't buy enough paracetamol to find?

I wandered the streets, looking for clues. I got stopped for shoplifting in BHS when I checked a dodgy looking woman's bag while she was in the changing rooms, but they let me go when I cried. Mum's going to kill me for not buying her the phrase book she wanted me to pick up for our skiing holiday next week.

I hope I break my spine and don't know how to cry for help in French, then no-one will rescue me, just like in the rest of my life, and I will die, sinking into the embrace of the beautiful sky-flakes.

I am ill.

2008-03-10T01:51:00.000-07:00

I am deathly ill. I am swimming in a sea of vortices of my own creation. I wish I would drown. Drown, sink, tumble into a never-ending dream. There's chemicals in my blood my body clings to even as it begs to reject them. An evening's relief from the darkness feels like lighting a match in a pitch black cavern. A few seconds where you glimpse how tiny you are compared to the cavern around you. Then discomfort, a burned finger and the darkness returns, its breath tinged with sulphur and the burn in your eyes making the dark darker than it felt before.

The cycle turns, a tiny wheel in a giant machine.

I need to stop pulling randoms.

2008-03-09T09:20:00.000-07:00

I was at a club last night and I ended up with this guy who was a lot uglier than I thought he was. That's sobriety for you. I probably wouldn't have followed him home if I'd been sober either. Following, making sure he couldn't see me, hiding on corners.

I'm seeing him again next week.

~Love is Shivering~

2008-03-07T02:27:00.000-08:00

I feel like a trembling egg. I am a chick, trapped in the egg. If I cannot break the shell, I cannot change my world. I will die, still trapped in my egg. I must revolutionise my world.

Though I know in my heart what awaits the bird that breaks free from its egg. The birdcage. A new small world to be trapped in. How does one escape this baroque matroshka of captivity? Never truly finding free will?

I went back to work yesterday. It was like being stabbed through the soul with a dagger made of frozen shit. I never want to work again.

I...

2008-03-07T02:25:00.001-08:00

...am sadder than a grape.

I am a sigh.

2007-07-16T03:13:00.000-07:00

A whisper in a dark place. Mondays are never happy. At least the sky's tears offer me their wet sympathy.

Pointless

2007-06-02T05:34:00.000-07:00

Has no man here's sword got a point for me?

My so-called mother took me to Brighton this week. It was horrible, demeaning and demeaning.

Madeleine.

2007-05-27T03:14:00.000-07:00

Did you know that over four hundred and fifty children have gone missing in the United Kingdom alone, since the disappearance of Madeleine McCann?

I can only wish that I was one of them. One of the faceless mass that disappear unnoticed by media attention. Slipping off into the night. Yes, I wish I could die like that.

I'm going to take a picture of myself in a football shirt and send it to The Sun and The Daily Mail. That'll sign my death warrant. It always does.

I could have been dead.

2007-05-23T11:53:00.000-07:00

I didn't post for a week and no-one cares.

Another Weekend

2007-05-14T04:07:00.000-07:00

Another disappointment.

After last year, where it was as though someone found my letters and read each one out loud, this year's Eurovision Song Contest was won by a bulldyke whose prior claim to fame was that she bit through the hull of a ship in the Cold War. My mother kept saying that I'd only be happy when they do an Emovision Song Contest, but she's mean. I'm not emo, it's not true. I hate how commercialised music has become associated with the pain that people feel and therefore it becomes all to easy for obese people like my mother to dismiss the suffering, the genuine suffering of people.

I walked out, telling her I wanted to move to Helsinki because the people there looked more like my kind of people. They wear black and hide their faces with their fringes. Well, it looks like half of them do, the others chat on Nokia phones and dress like Santa Claus.

I put on my iPod that I've coloured black with a marker pen because I don't want to look like I like Bono, then I walked out and kept on walking, disgusted that a punch-faced dyke won over any of the songs about sadness and strife.

It got cold so I went into Chariots. Just because it was cold and I didn't want to go home unless home was Helsinki. So I sank into hell. I sat in the dark room, on the floor, but it was too dark and some guy came in my ear while I was trying to cut my arm with the key for the locker, so I went and sat in the main room and tried to cut myself while people were watching porn. I ended up trying to use a ring-pull tag thing from a can of coke I'd found lying around.

A guy came up to me and asked me what I was doing. I ignored him but eventually he wouldn't go and the ring pull wouldn't cut. I told him I was sad because Eurovision had been won by a pinch-faced bitch rather than someone who sang about pain. Turns out the guy is Serbian, so he was pretty pleased that the pudgy pug had won. He took a look at my arms - turns out he is a vet, too, he said. He said I wouldn't die from the scratches on my arm and gave me some advice about how to tidy up cuts after I'd made them and said that I shouldn't feel sad that mum wouldn't let me get a hampster because they're rubbish.

I also complained to him about my cow and he seemed so genuinely worried I felt I couldn't tell him that it was a cow in Animal Crossing, not a real cow. The guy left after an hour of me crying and pulling on his arm when he'd said he had to go home with his boyfriend.

It's so fucking unfair. I never trust men. Especially not vets in saunas.

ARGH!!!

2007-05-11T02:26:00.000-07:00

I am boycotting the new transformers movie. Like, I cried when I saw the new designs. WTF?
Holywood cares not if it rapes all that is hallowed. I will never get the autobot insignia tattooed now, and it would have been so cool. Everything ruined and wrong, even the comforts get all chewed up and shit out again in the end.

I must have like the minatour touch or something, only everything I touch turns to shit.
Is everything I love destined to be turned against me, dark barbs tearing at my soul? If I had a soul.

I shattered my DVD of Armageddon and hid the shards under my mattress. The OC is on now.

Even death would be preferable to this.

2007-05-08T07:28:00.000-07:00

I sit and lie
To myself, I.
I sometimes cry.

A bruise appears, blooms like a rose
How I got it, god only knows.
Yes only he could know my woes.

Pity then that he's dead
Saw our broken world and smashed his head
Like an egg dashed into a wall
And now our dark world will slowly fall.

No grace, no grace, no grace at all.
Our fleeting lights to darkness fall.

Fuck

2007-05-05T11:36:00.000-07:00

You all hate me, don't you?

Hit Counter

2007-05-05T11:30:00.000-07:00

Hit counter is right. You sit there and hit me in the gut every time you tick over.

355 have looked at my blog have they? Do any of them KNOW me? UNDERSTAND me? WANT me? If there was a hit counter for the number of people that existed in those categories it would be covered in the rust and decay of a thousand ages past.

I'm so alone, so small and empty. I want my hit counter to flick over by one and finally land on the magic combination that will open up my vault of a soul so that everyone can see what a beautiful and considerate man I am inside. Why is there no-one to pry me open and see the glory that's inside??

Maybe that's why I cut myself - to try and let people see the wonder and light inside me.

Animal Crossing

2007-05-04T06:26:00.000-07:00

Down, not across. Wherever did my cow go? Everyone and everything I dare to love eventually leaves me. Thus sit I here, bereft of love, drowning in lies and hurt. I'd explain more, but it's the same old story that happens to me - that I dare to believe I have found someone nice, who might possibly respect me and treat me well, then it all comes crashing down around me. I think I might become a monk, only I don't believe in anything enough - especially not men. Maybe I should give up on any hope I had of finding love, that it's all a fucking lie propogated by profligate liars. I dared to dream. Alas; those dreams were more real than you turned out to be. Perhaps it is only in dreams that I exist truly, in the fevered imaginings and the visions that haunt my lonely nights.

Men, eh? Vile, loathesome creatures. I curse God every day that I was born an androphile. Cruel, harsh irony.

fuxck

2007-05-04T01:39:00.000-07:00

im soooooooo drubnk

life igs SO FUCKIN SHIYT

i juist fuxckn HATE MEN

nobody loves me

My Heart Is Broken, England

2007-05-03T23:18:00.000-07:00

I read this website today which was talking about how to become a Muslim terrorist and I saw the photos of all the men with their faces covered with teatowels who were operating in little cells - like bees, only with different reasons for randomly dying - and it made me wish I had friends like that. Muslims wouldn't like me because I'm gay and I don't like the idea of killing people unless they're mean, but I yearn for that sense of camaraderie and shared purpose that they have. It must make you feel so good to have the sense that you are in control of your destiny - that you even have a destiny - like they do. To know your life is hurtling like a meteor towards that explosion of glory. To explode worse than that time when mum (fat, awful troll whose acidic womb belched me into this world of pain) shook the ketchup bottle so hard it flew out of her hand and exploded against the living room wall. That's the kind of death I could warm to.

The thing is, though - for that kind of death to have any meaning, I'd need to have something to die for. I don't. I don't have anything to live for either, so all I'm doing is treading water, waiting for the shadow of death to fall on me.

2007-05-02T15:41:00.000-07:00

Boyfriend in a coma,
I hate the aroma,
I am a loner.

Alone- ah.

gutted.

SIGH

2007-04-30T03:28:00.000-07:00

That is all. I've had enough of this. I want to end everything. This blog, this life, this stupid, gnawing sense of nihilistic pain and grief and sadness. It's not even though I have anything to be bereaved for - no lost love, no lost love. I never had any. I want to die; the pain is just unbearable now. I don't even have AIDS, it was a cold. I'll have to do it all myself now. It's all down to me. I've got a stack of valium and some White Lightning. It will be a beautiful end. Mum's making pie.

Deptford Burns

2007-04-26T04:08:00.000-07:00

I read the news today and it's as full as it always is with deplorable tragedy and suffering around the world. Millions of people are dying even as I type this. Wars fought over resources have a horrific body count just to make rich politicians richer.

Finally a voice is heard in the darkness speaking truth.

Apparently trains aren't working today because there's a major fire in Deptford. If only I lived in Deptford, I could have burned to death, along with all of my dreams.

Flesh is weak as sin.

2007-04-26T02:07:00.001-07:00

The body is but a vessel for the soul,
A puppet which bends to the soul’s tyranny.
And lo, the body is not eternal,
For it must feed on the flesh of others,
Lest it return to the dust whence it came.
Therefore must the soul
Deceive, despise, and murder men.
-- A. J. Durai

Pain.

2007-04-24T09:21:00.000-07:00

Give me a pain as pleasing as your sigh
So I can feel you all the day and night

I feel a failure at life, at times like this. Times when nothing changes. Times when angels dance. Times when lights are cast. Times when I realise that I am still the child I always was. A child inside of me, screaming and bawling at the vast uncaring universe.

I am so empty, and yet so very full, of sadness.

I'm still thinking of that boy from all those years ago. I failed then, but not as hard as I have failed now. So very much failed.

Death would seem like an escape, but alas even that is denied me.

I HAVE HIV!!!!1 :-(

2007-04-24T04:51:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning and the sheets were all wet. Luckily I got to put them in the washing machine before that fat bitch called the aneuresis nurse on me again. My body has always betrayed me. This time, though, it was sweat - I have a fever and a cough and there's this itchy patch on my arms that can't be because of the potato peeler self-harm thing because that was last week.

Mum says I have the flu, but I know I am SERACONVERTING. I guess it was only a matter of time before the dark gift would find me and take me into its embrace of oblivion. I looked it up on the internet. There was this survey I saw on this guy's MySpace page - and I answered yes to like three of the ten questions, so I must have it. I've injected drugs - there was that time when I had my teeth out. I've had sex without a condom - that old guy who looked like Gandalf wanked me off in Trash Palace last weekend and we didn't use a condom.

I am going to die. Can anyone help me?

Honey lemon and ginger is nice, so's having toast brought to me, but teh AIDS is FOREVER.

Sunshine would just dissolve me into light.

2007-04-24T02:41:00.000-07:00

After the events of last night, this blog will be on hold for the foreseeable future.

Lies and Statistics

2007-04-22T00:15:00.000-07:00

I'd read on the internet that loads of people read blogs, so when I set this up so you would all know the TRUTH about pain and understand that you all need to change and stop lying and being horrible to me. A single voice of eloquent words speaking out against the horrors of an unfair world, like a glimmering teardrop among the distant stars.

So I put up a web counter, which goes on the right. I don't understand what it means, though. One of them says I've had 84 hits, the other says I've had 2 unique visitors. I keep checking the page from here and from work to see if anyone's commented, but 84 hits is a lot, yes? It means people are reading! Eighty-four lost souls stumbled across my words of anguish, but only two of which are unique.

I'll keep checking from here and from work, but you 2 unique visitors, I love you. The 84 hits can fuck off, you nasty, perverted voyeurs. I bet you're here hoping for porn.

There's no porn here. I tried to take naked photos of myself so you could see my tattoo (which I have updated from saying WOO to saying WOØ which is sort of what I wanted, by using a marker pen) but I couldn't get the timer right and kept taking photos of my wall. I think it's a better portrait of me that way, though, one empty wall in darkness, assaulted by a snap of light.

I am a Sad Alpaca

2007-04-20T09:16:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned before, I have a keen interest in the spirituality of other peoples, particularly Native American religions and paganism because they're so much more true than Christian lies. Christianity is just an illusion to control us and keep us from being in touch with our souls. Why would I worship some skinny dead dude nailed to a cross (although skinny boys with cuts are hot, but I don't like beards much and he never does his hair right) when there's Mountain Ghosts and Tree Spirits I could connect with much more readily? Trees don't lie. They REMEMBER.

So I found this quiz online. I'd put a link to it but I don't know how - my IT teacher hated me, fascist! It said I am an alpaca. It's like an Elan, which the sign at Windsor Park said were shy and elusive. I love animals; they don't lie. They bite you when they hate you and they walk away. People are full of shit. I was talking on thingbox to this guy and I really liked him and gave him my number and he didn't call me or reply or anything. His profile said he was looking for a relationship, so I offered him one and said the cool things we could do together and gave him my number. I checked on Sent Messages and he read it, but he didn't reply or call me or anything.

I don't know why I bother. I'd give up on men and sex if I could. But I need to have some to prove I'm giving it up rather than because no-one wants me. If that guy had replied and said he wanted that relationship with me, I'd have said no. I wouldn't want to go with a loser like that.

The heart is a lonely Alpaca.

Mon coeur est un alpaga isolé!

My nemesis.

2007-04-20T02:26:00.000-07:00

Dido spews across the hall. The sounds of a bland balloon slowly deflating to music. Her songs are depressing to the extreme, but in all of the wrong ways. She does not understand me.

Mother finished my crunchy nut cornflakes again. She always eats my food, even though I buy it with MY OWN POCKET MONEY. No wonder she is so fat. A fat, thieving, lying, child-abusing whore. I can never believe she spawned me. Never. Perhaps it was like when Jesus was born. Something more beautiful, more brilliant, passed through a human body and out into the world.

Pity then that Jesus is a lie.

I only wish for the mellifluous sounds of silence to echo sonorously through these halls. Noise is terrible aggravating to persons of sensitivity such as myself.

It's been one of those awful mornings. Coffee tastes like rank piss mixed with shit and nobody on gaydar is interested. I complimented a beautiful man on his spelling and he said to me, he really said "sorry man your not my type". Was he mocking me? Was he? I can't tell.

I feel so alone. Oh! How I wish that man had not replied in such a way and instead wrapped me in his strong arms in an embrace so tight that he might never let me go. But alas, unhuggable.

Dear Diary...

2007-04-19T15:13:00.000-07:00

...nothing to report on today. Just thought I'd write something just in case anyone is listening. Which you're not, I'm sure. LOL. This sucks. Why do I even bother writing? Should I give up?

School Slaughter

2007-04-17T08:30:00.000-07:00

I well wish something like that had happened at my school. Nothing interesting ever happened at my school, other than that kid who had leukemia and died and he was jealous of my fringe. Stupid emo dead kid. 30 kids killed by the grumpy korean kid. Oh.

It was at a university. Still. Nothing interesting happened at my university. Not that I'd know. I never went because they were all très mean to me. Said I wasn't good enough to pass a degree in French, even though I'd go there every summer and everyone there understood me all the time. Well, as much as anyone ever understand me. La tristessa durera.

I wish there had been a massacre at my university. There was, of sorts, as the kids were brainwashed by the staff into giving up their sense of Truth and instead submitting to their lies. Teachers lie. I'd love to have seen them gunned down.

I wouldn't do it myself. I mean, I would, but I'm a pacifist. Except on my DS, where non-violence doesn't get you coins or mushrooms like it sort of does in the real world.

Cho Seung-hui, we fringed ones salute you.

Oh, Cho. Cho, Cho, Cho.
I'd loved to have been your classmate.
Although.
Cho. Cho, Cho, Cho Sueng-hui.
I'd really rather prefer it,
If you had killed me.

A poem, copyrighted to me, 2007 on this sad day. Kill me, Cho.

Je doit mourir.

So Unfair

2007-04-15T14:27:00.000-07:00

So, she - the fat tyrant I live with, right - she forced me to leave the computer today. Again! It's so not fair. There was this cute Japanese kid at the restaurant we were at, but I was hung over and sad 'cause the guy I met at Ghetto last night didn't reply to any of the texts I sent him. I was sending him more under the table in case he had network trouble and hadn't got the others - there were only ten or so - since I went into the restaurant. So this kid, she got her ice cream and managed to get some of it on her face, all cream and raspberry sauce everywhere. Then, she tried to wipe herself clean and missed a bit. It was like she had shed a little tear of blood. Blood and spunk, maybe, but mostly blood.

I felt sad and I didn't finish my mango sorbet. It can't refresh the parts that I need reached.

I got home and my cow on Animal Crossing had left. I hate my mum.

Still no texts from Mr. Last Night. Sigh. Another £15 in credit down the drain in my futile search for love. "Y dont U luv m3?"

So, cowless and loveless,
alas, to bed, alone,
once more must I.

I wrote this for you, whoever you are.

...and for you, Pale Derision With A Crumpled Horn, where'er you are now. Mon vache, mon amour, ma woe.

Unmuggable?

2007-04-15T04:15:00.000-07:00

I walk down the high street every day. Everyone else I know has been mugged.

Am I sending out some kind of signal?

:-(

Sometimes I dream of ancient machines...

2007-04-15T04:11:00.000-07:00

There is a darkness within me that I cannot fully explain. There is a darkness within me that threatens to consume all, like choking smoke, and that would leave me cold, dead, without redemption.

Redemption is what I seek. Sometimes. Sometimes not. Someone once said (I think it was me that said it, actually) that redemption can only be sought and found through others. Which is why I need others in my life, even if they disgust me.

The problem with humans is that they are all liars. Liars and thieves. They'll tell you what you want to hear and run off with another piece of your heart.

Like the guy I was fucking last week. I thought he was really incredibly sexy. But when I called him this morning (five times it took to get an answer), he told me, sorry, no, I can't see you right now I'm at work.

It's this kind of timewasting lying shit that made me hang up on him. I'll never call him again.

I want to be redeemed. I want to find love like that, but when all around me are liars, dishonest people and timewasters, then all seems for naught.

Pets win prizes. But hate me.

2007-04-15T04:07:00.000-07:00

My fish Morrissey died today. He was the last, the other Smiths had floated up to the top of the tank weeks ago but he was holding on, I thought out of some kind of bitter refusal but it seems he actually had some kind of infection. He exploded while I was feeding him. Maliciously.

Then I got a text msg from an online number "greg. sry 4 dyin. u r 2 D-pressing 2 liv wiv. Luv Fish"

Why oh why did someone send me that and not even find out the fish had a name. WHY!!!!!

I think it was my sister. Her and her "friends" are just cruel enough to do it. Maybe they made him explode too. I'm going to read her diary and maybe masturbate furiously while weeping. Oh and find out about the fish msg. After.

2007-04-15T03:56:00.000-07:00

It's my birthday. Mother flagrantly disregarded my attempts to ignore the crass, sickly procession towards wormdom that is my aging process and decided that in an attempt to be "down with the kids" she would pay for "something gothy" to keep me "happy". I do not know how the world still has any inverted commas left with that woman spouting words she does not know how to use in an order they should never have been attempted. I decided to get a tattoo.

Because I hurt inside already.

But the man in the parlour misspelled Woe. Trust me to have picked a drunk tattoo artist. I have no-one to blame but myself. And my mother for having me.

My shoulder now reads "Woo!"

WILL MERCIFUL DEATH NOT CLAIM ME NOW! WHY DO YOU MOCK ME HECATE!!!

Another Sunny Day

2007-04-15T03:55:00.000-07:00

It burns.

I went to work yesterday, even though it was sunny. I hate it that I have to work. They should just leave me alone. I got home in the evening and when I was doing my hair and ignoring the fat horrible woman downstairs (mum) I realised that half my face is red. I should have a fringe that hides all my face. I'd be like a muslim woman. I'm just as oppressed. But gay. And not muslim. And not a woman.

Sigh. Even the burkha would reject me.

The sun... it burns.
I want to live beneath the moon.

Why Do Films Have Happy Endings?

2007-04-13T14:14:00.000-07:00

Life isn't like that. I watched The Brotherhood of the Wolf this evening. Mum kept making too much noise washing up because she hates me and doesn't want me to keep my French alive. La Francais est la langue de la woe.

The film was all about this monster that someone who pretends to have one arm brought back from Africa to terrorise pre-revolutionary French people. I don't know why he bothered when the revolution was coming. I thought he should have read history instead of hiding his arm. But I hide my arm sometimes. Mum took all the sharp things out of my room and bought me an electric shaver so I had to smuggle a potato peeler into my room to cut myself after the film.

I wanted to show on my skin how I feel within. Like in proper films, where no-one sails away to Africa at the end of it with a box of the ashes of a Native American. I wish I had a Native American blood brother. My mum said I should have looked after mopsy better when I was younger and not left the hutch open. Like it was my fault she died. Like I don't blame myself enough.

If only I had a Native American Blood Brother, he'd have thrown an axe in her fat head for being so mean to me. Mais je seulment me faire du mal a moi-meme. Alors. Le woe infinette. So I don't have a spirit animal because my mother is stupid.

Sigh. It's friday night and no-one's called me and three people defriended me on myspace at once. I wonder if anyone will talk to me at work tomorrow. I will hide my arm. That starch really hurts.

Ma mere est un canard. Elle ne me comprends rien.

:'(

2007-04-13T11:43:00.000-07:00

I got the bus today and was listening to Keane on the iPod mum got me for Valentine's Day when this fat horrible woman sat next to me and tried to talk to me, but I ignored her and looked at the window at my reflection, it was like a ghost on the road outside. I read the woman's paper when she stopped staring at me and asking me to turn my music down. Her newspaper told me that Sol leWitt and Kurt Vonnegut both died today. I cried a little bit, but I think my fringe hid it.

How can the world go on now? I nearly missed my stop with grief but the horrible fat woman got off at the same stop as me.

I hate her. How come she doesn't understand the shame I feel at being seen next to someone who still finds pleasure in eating? It's like she's not rotting from the inside like I am. Then she called me "son" and I nearly died from shame. She was wearing green. I hate when mum makes me help her with the shopping.

She said there was someone else called Kurt, like a million years ago, and she had cried when he died. I think he was probably in Big Fun or something if she liked him. Like you can blame it on the boogie when the world is so empty of joy and brightness?

I hope she makes pie.