About Me
- About Me: On the surface, simplicity; but the darkest pit in me is Pagan poetry.
More About Me
- Nicknames: ani. anita riot.
- Religion: all things literature.
- Interests: comics. feminism. literature. music. pencil & ink. riot grrrl. roller derby. zines.
- Expertise: alphabetizing. laziness. speculation.
- Occupation: bartender. student.
- Industry: education.
- Website: http://www.myspace.com/anitariot
Books
- Favorite Books: Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of Nimh. Notes of a Dirty Old Man. Wuthering Heights.
- Favorite Quotes: Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string. - Ralph Waldo Emerson
Music
- Favorite Artists: tori amos. the beatles. belly. bikini kill. bjork. modest mouse. the pixies. red aunts.
- Favorite Albums: [correlating w/ fav. artists] boys for pele. the white album. king. the first two records on cd. vespertine. lonesome crowded west. doolittle. #1 chicken.
Style
- I like to wear: tattoos. underwear.
- Prized Possessions: secrets.
- Guilty Pleasure: cunnilingus.
Video Games
- Games I Play: katamari damacy!
Contact Info
- AIM: lets walk around
rhododendron
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- Name: anita
- State: Texas
- Birthday: 1/10/1985
- Member Since: 8/9/2003
Connect
Chatboard (39)
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Damn the humidity! -
I'm still all hot and bothered over here. Not that I'm the only one.
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That new picture gets me all hot n' bothered.
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wasn't me! -
Ah! Right when I read that, it came on the radio!
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I s'pose I've listened to it too much. But 'This Is A Long Drive For Someone With Nothing To Think About' has to be my favorite.
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Such has been said. But then self-destruction is my cup of tea.
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Cowboy Dan's a major player in the cowboy league. He goes to the reservation, drinks and gets mean. He goes to the desert, fires a rifle in the sky, and says "God, if I have to die, you will have to die." Can't get that engine turned over Can't do it, not even if sober
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My headache last night escalated to the point where I smashed my head against the wall to see if that would make it go away. Logic...is not one of my strong points.
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The guilty undertaker sighs, the lonesome organ grinder cries the silver saxaphones say how she refused to the cracked bells and washed out horns, blew into my face with scorn
Memories (3)