tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39971612194602705942011-07-30T22:07:07.771-07:00Kirsten Kearsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15816499514717239586noreply@blogger.comBlogger41100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3997161219460270594.post-71667153145754528992010-01-22T18:58:00.000-08:002010-01-22T19:02:10.086-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NIt3loKeDE8/S1pmNEMU91I/AAAAAAAAABA/5xrPIbn7Hgs/s1600-h/photo%282%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NIt3loKeDE8/S1pmNEMU91I/AAAAAAAAABA/5xrPIbn7Hgs/s320/photo%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429764675398334290" border="0" /></a>Followed the map. Now I'm tired.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3997161219460270594-7166715314575452899?l=horsefingers.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Kirsten Kearsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15816499514717239586noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3997161219460270594.post-9697780227577255622010-01-22T11:41:00.000-08:002010-01-22T11:53:27.298-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NIt3loKeDE8/S1n_yYHKjlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/_2CwZ3786Xc/s1600-h/photo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NIt3loKeDE8/S1n_yYHKjlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/_2CwZ3786Xc/s320/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429652066702888530" border="0" /></a><br />LOOK WHO I FOUND!<br />Had to trade (lose) my favorite scarf to regain the Bunny. I accept. Going to "dress." New dilemma. I don't think Horsefingers has developed a language. I'm positive she doesn't speak English. I've been rattling this around in my head for a few days. Maybe I'll think of myself as Emma (played by Maria Thayer) in "Horsefingers 3: Starfucker" when she was dressed up as the original Mythological Horsefingers. Emma could speak because she was a human dressed as Horsefingers. But I played the Mythological Horsefingers and Emma was actually dressed like me, but me is also the director of the film doing a cheap promo stunt. It's confusing. And it's actually what HF3 is about. Layers of identity.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3997161219460270594-969778022757725562?l=horsefingers.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Kirsten Kearsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15816499514717239586noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3997161219460270594.post-17462203959138410472010-01-22T07:22:00.000-08:002010-01-23T07:34:38.253-08:00Phoenix. Park City. In common, the letter "P." Also beginning with "P" , Playboy Bunny. He's run off with my Horsefingers. Hopefully, they are honeymooning in Salt Lake City and I'll catch them red-handed, dancing together around the luggage carousel. Although they have abandoned me, I will greet them with forgiveness. Do not fear our reunion, my dears. Run from me no longer. Mommy loves you.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3997161219460270594-1746220395913841047?l=horsefingers.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Kirsten Kearsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15816499514717239586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3997161219460270594.post-85673203890319483232010-01-20T15:16:00.000-08:002010-01-20T15:42:03.479-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NIt3loKeDE8/S1eTGZMSZoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/tasaq5zVOEY/s1600-h/hfsuitcase.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NIt3loKeDE8/S1eTGZMSZoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/tasaq5zVOEY/s320/hfsuitcase.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428969613869344386" border="0" /></a><br />Slamdance. The year, TwoThousandTen. What follows here: my accounts. Leaving tomorrow so I don't have that much to report yet other than I have not bought fresh six-pack of underoos, false eyelashes or gone to the bank. That was today's 'to do.' Above, witness my accomplishments. A Playboy Bunny suitcase borrowed from my Manfriend who borrowed it from his friend's Manfriend packed with an outfit certain to humiliate it's wearer. Oh desperate, desperate Horsefingers.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3997161219460270594-8567320389031948323?l=horsefingers.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Kirsten Kearsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15816499514717239586noreply@blogger.com0