1. designed for, and understood by, the specially initiated alone; not communicated, or not intelligible, to the general public: "The esoteric religious references make the novel a difficult read." 2. private; interior; confidential; 'an esoteric purpose' adverb form: esoterically

Origin:Approximately 1660; borrowed from Greek, 'esoterikos': belonging to an inner circle, from 'esotero': inner, comparative adverb of 'eso': within.

In action: "erica may be a tad esoteric, but it is a more basic concept that she is vague."

posted by erica griffin  # 4:45 am 0 comments

apparently (or should i say according to my alternative new sources) our dear prez is suffering from some health problems.

his nutritionist has recommended drastically cutting down his dairy and meat intake, and drastically increasing his veggies. and this is something they don't want the public to know. why?

the u.s. dairy and meat people spend over 100 million smackers in advertizing a year. the veggie industry spends less that 1 million. (for actual figures, ask Levi, our expiramenting vegetarian) that is a huge difference in numbers there, folks.

things that are hard to swallow (ie drinking another mammals lactations and needing meat three times a day) are beat over our head more frequently, to increase swallowability.

and this brings me to my point. why do we have to rehash the story of jesus not only every freakin christmas but every sunday from the time we're spanked into this world til the time we're suffocated out of it? it doesn't go down very easily!

and why don't we hear about newton and einstein's miracles more often?

maybe one day i'll swallow bible mythology with a big cold glass of moo juice. until then i feel pretty healthy on my religious diet, thank you very much.

and Bush, well, he can just keep eating those massaged kobe beef steaks for all i care.

the site was a condemned hotel on the old highway coming into vegas. there's a bus in back, broken down as people's dreams. no more passengers, no driver, no destination. except to rust and eventually crumble.

i shed my wedding dress in the deserted honeymoon suite, thinking of all the ghost relations that had come and gone. they never saw crackling walls, broken windows, gobs of spiderwebs. they couldn't possibly imagine what was coming.

and the lounge. the lounge was no more than an empty record of life leaving you behind. the good times coming to an end like a slow, rotting death.

abandon yourself to the future.

you know what day it is. was it raining this morning? i think so.
god i love a good joke!

didn't even light a sparkler.

but last night, i had a crunchie bar before bed, made me dream of england.
when i think of me mum representing there at the funeral,
i wonder if it's bad manners
to hope she brings home some crunchie bars.

and this rather reminds me of annette. because HER mum brought down five tons of wine gums when she came to see us in ballyhoo.

i think i'll always equate motherly love with candy.