Here's a good article. Read before you read farther:
http://www.sfn.org/content/Publications/BrainBriefings/pheromones.html
**************************
Okay, Now we can get started.
The other night I hung out with Monica and was catching her up on all my latest exploits, what with the SXSW Film and music festival. Which included (but was not limited to) the oft-bawdy stories of the "Single SXSW'er." And this year, BOY, did I have a lot to tell her!
Basically it boiled down to me spilling out my general befuddlement regarding an increase in male attention that I have been getting recently. It's not necessarily a good or a bad thing...it just feels odd. Not that it matters or affects my personal life...every night when I go home, it's to my own two kitty-girls, by my choice. But I'm just frickin' perplexed.
I mean, I'm still the same person I was, so why? Is it just because I've decided to genuinely stay single? Or is the mystery of a more physical nature?
Monica seemed to think it's due to a combination of a rise in self-confidence, and my emission of personal pheromones. This theory compounded into a long and involved discussion of every possible factor of my sexuality and current emotional status. The question I never thought I'd have to ask: Am I in heat?
A smidge of disconcertion is beginning to settle upon me. I've met many people over the past couple of weeks. What's been happening is that I meet someone and they act as if they are drawn, SO drawn to me, that it doesn't feel real. It's like I slipped 'em a Mickey. And we're talking about people I know as well as those I don't. Am I projecting this or inviting this in some manner?
For instance, at Beerland last Sunday while I was talking to a certain person who happens to be male (and an interest of mine), ANOTHER guy I know (a very casual acquaintance) came up to me and gave me a hug...and then he looked at me with this funny little "noticing" look in his eye and started in on how I smelled of sunshine and green apples. What??? I mean, COME ON! Haha.
Of course I'd been go-go dancing all night so I was pretty sensitive that I was a bit on the odiferous side...but perhaps that was the attractor? I just don't know. Basically at that moment, it was a combination of girly sweat and hastily sprayed Mary Kay perfume. Huh.
Anyhow, the look in his eyes caught me off guard. I did a double take on his stare, even. He hovered there uncertianly, as if waiting for me to do something more, like maybe chat him up? I might have, I suppose, had I not been in mid chat-up with someone else.
That's just one example, but it really has been like that for the past month or two. Why? I can't figure it out. I mean, I'm the same person as I always was. I've put on a little more weight lately and frankly, haven't felt all that attractive the past few weeks due to said weight gain and overindulgence in blatantly supine activities. But that's just me, apparently.
Last night, I met what appears to be a stellar young man (who I actually DO hope to get to know better), but again I was faced with the pheromones dilemma. It was actually pretty humorous.
I'm sitting on the couch with him, pretending to read a newspaper but actually quite distracted by his presence, and he says all close in my ear, "You have an intriguing smell." Now, don't get me wrong, I think this young man is really unique and I don't think that what he said was pithy or inappropriate. But, given my 45-minute conversation with Monica on Friday night concerning my overactive pheromones, it was all I could do to keep a few chortles from bubbling out.
Not wanting to put him off or discount his statement, I lowered the paper and asked the air in front of me, "Would you say it's my pheromones?" An eager assent.
I nodded my head, knowingly.
*must not laugh out loud.* *must not laugh out loud.* *must not laugh out loud.* *must not laugh out loud.*
Perhaps I need to bottle up my secretions and send them to one of the numerous websites for one of those 'human pheromones' perfumes?
Ewwwwww. Never mind.
*********
By the way, what is WITH the pheromone-perfume thing? It's utterly laughable. To me it smacks of falseness akin to 'natural' breast enhancement, toupees, and water-bras. What happens when you run out of perfume? Do your minions hit the road? Are you forever enslaved to the pheromone perfume-maker? Immortal words, those: "It's not nice to fool with Mother Nature."
Pfffft. Spreading a liquid containing "human pheromones" on your upper lip. Like drops of acid for the lonely, desperate, and probably now-broke.
Indeed.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
A moment in your life...and mine.
There's a question I thought of a few months back and I just remembered it again. Not that it could be answered in a larger sense, but still...many people, if they have had this experience, remember the moment with perfect clarity.
When was the exact moment you lost your innocence?
By this I mean a moment of clarity, a real comprehension of the harshness of life, followed by the inevitable depressing feeling that there is NOTHING you can do about it. Life will never be exactly what you want it to be.
Mine was sitting on my bed at age 11, staring my wall. It was marred with dirty fingerprints from many lonely patty-cake games, and the bottom half was scuffed with the marks from my stomping, frustrated feet. My mother had locked me in my room to pray. I remember feeling overwhelming despair, both at the situation and the realization that I had been fighting this very epiphany for almost three years.
When was the exact moment you lost your innocence?
By this I mean a moment of clarity, a real comprehension of the harshness of life, followed by the inevitable depressing feeling that there is NOTHING you can do about it. Life will never be exactly what you want it to be.
Mine was sitting on my bed at age 11, staring my wall. It was marred with dirty fingerprints from many lonely patty-cake games, and the bottom half was scuffed with the marks from my stomping, frustrated feet. My mother had locked me in my room to pray. I remember feeling overwhelming despair, both at the situation and the realization that I had been fighting this very epiphany for almost three years.
Planning an adventure can really work! Part Two
Veering, screeching, careening, lurching, cursing, and leching brought me to the Alamo Drafthouse South at 1:45pm. I was in a hurry because I sure as hell wasn't about to pay for a SXSW filmpass and I wanted to make sure I could catch Rusty's short doc on the Ramones...and the Bob Wills one, too!
When I arrived, my poor car was begging for mercy and I was all business as I stepped out into the sunshine. Turns out the attendance was light and I saw hide nor hair of Rusty or Jason. Why weren't they there? It was Rusty's show, damn it! I went in and asked, and gave them his description should he walk in under my radar. I went into the new theater which still smelled like paint. I didn't know what to make of the comfortable seats and new method of ordering food (you stuck your order into a magnetic strip instead of on the little pole thingie).
I waited anxiously for their arrival and then finally realized, what the hell do I care if they're there or not? I was planning to come alone all that time anyway, so why was I being so anxious to find Rusty and Jason?
I sat back and watched the show. Rusty's film was the first. Was he there to see it? I couldn't waste my time looking around to find out. I watched as images of a teenage Rusty filled the screen, especially a particularly poignant moment where his buddy sniffs his armpit. I enjoyed Rusty's voiceover monologue a lot. The whole concept was so simple: I LOVE THE RAMONES.
With such a simple concept, one might surmise that the creator himself was simple as well. But I found the movie a lot like the person, from what I had observed in the past 24 hours. No frills, no pretentions. Purveyor of a simple idea with a sardonic, idiosyncratic quality and boyish intensity. Underneath, less obvious but equally important layers of softness and sentiment. Without those, the movie would have been total bullshit. Bravo, old chap! Bravo!
Following that was a tribute to Blue Rodeo, which was a well illustrated (literally) depiction of one fan's love for this band. Nicely done...but in the end, the band he spoke of was SO god-awful!!! It honestly ruined the entire short for me. For crying out loud, get some taste, man!
A short doc on jam sessions occurred after that which was interesting in theory, but way too scattered...followed by a documentary on a piano factory. I was interested in this at first as it was extremely well done...but soon I drifted off into a nap, and when I came to some guy was talking about piano auras and other existential theories which in my cranky waking state ruined the whole thing for me. I went back to sleep.
But then as the opening notes of "Faded Love" hit my ears, I sat up straight with eyes and ears wide open. The documentary on Bob Wills contained TONS of footage I had never seen, including the McKinney Sisters! I sat transfixed and teary-eyed throughout. It was wonderful.
After the lights came on they did a Q&A session and lo and behold! Rusty & Jason had made it in without my noticing. Rusty did a great Q&A job complete with an embarrassing moment for me, when he pointed to me and told people to go check out my band. Ay-yi-yi. Floor, swallow me now.
Having an adventurous mindset with no real objectives, I spent the rest of the day with those guys. We went to grab a bite at Casino and then Rusty did what I now know is "his thing" which is to sneak me into a party to which I am not invited. All of a sudden I am in a Directors' Guild of America party with a whiskey and coke in my hand and having an intense conversation with some cute producer fellow from Tucson. I told him the story of the human ear and we worked out a basic outline for the most effective telling.
On the whole, I found the hair in the affair to be a little too carefully feathered and tousled. I saw a few too many drunk skinny chicks hanging on the arms of guys wearing cool t-shirts under blazers, with jeans. What a larf. Oh, did I say "larf?" I meant "lark."
To top it all off I am talking with the fellow from Tucson when my Phoenix-based costume designer of a brother calls me to tell me he's passing through town. I give him directions to the party and he pulls up and for five minutes, he hobnobs with the Tucson producer. I give him a hug, and off he went. I probably won't see him again for yet another year.
By this point, my adventures had reached the pinnacle of surreal and things began to wind down. I had come to terms with my M.O. for the day, which was to adopt an uncharacteristic "lamb-who-follows-unquestioningly" approach to my night with the Film Dudes (which is the name I gave them in my cell phone).
This brought me to the Paramount theater and the premier of "Drop Dead Sexy" starring Jason Lee and Crispin Glover (reference a few blogs back for other projects of Crispie's). Unfortunately I couldn't hang when the guys tried to sneak me in, so I left...but then I realized I could *gasp!* PAY for a ticket to see the movie. I did, and I laughed and laughed all the way through....a guilty laugh, for what I heard in the murmers surrounding me, those in the film industry apparently thought it was "obvious." That's cool...they're about their films like I'm about roots music. I'll gladly make fun of any band with a big orange Gretsch as being "too obvious" any day.
Afterward we traipsed down to the Dicks reunion part 2, where I gradually realized my adventures had gotten the best of me. I took my leave of everybody, went home and passed out. Adventures complete!
ADVENTURES OF A DIFFERENT ILK
When I woke up yesterday I found out poor Emily's car had gotten broken into, wrecked and her stereo stolen. Our plumbing has a leak that has slowly but THOROUGHLY mildewed both of our closets, and I learned that we have an untameable hornet/mosquito/wasp issue, and that our bathroom window fell out out of the frame.
Nonplussed, I took the dog and escaped to Town Lake. It was an amazing day outside; warm and sunny with a strong, cool breeze. We happened upon a kite festival and so I lay down, staring in silence at all the kites in the sky above me. Roxy sat quietly next to me, nose pointed upward, doing the same. I got pegged in the side with a kite, too. Awesome. :)
What a fantastic weekend.
When I arrived, my poor car was begging for mercy and I was all business as I stepped out into the sunshine. Turns out the attendance was light and I saw hide nor hair of Rusty or Jason. Why weren't they there? It was Rusty's show, damn it! I went in and asked, and gave them his description should he walk in under my radar. I went into the new theater which still smelled like paint. I didn't know what to make of the comfortable seats and new method of ordering food (you stuck your order into a magnetic strip instead of on the little pole thingie).
I waited anxiously for their arrival and then finally realized, what the hell do I care if they're there or not? I was planning to come alone all that time anyway, so why was I being so anxious to find Rusty and Jason?
I sat back and watched the show. Rusty's film was the first. Was he there to see it? I couldn't waste my time looking around to find out. I watched as images of a teenage Rusty filled the screen, especially a particularly poignant moment where his buddy sniffs his armpit. I enjoyed Rusty's voiceover monologue a lot. The whole concept was so simple: I LOVE THE RAMONES.
With such a simple concept, one might surmise that the creator himself was simple as well. But I found the movie a lot like the person, from what I had observed in the past 24 hours. No frills, no pretentions. Purveyor of a simple idea with a sardonic, idiosyncratic quality and boyish intensity. Underneath, less obvious but equally important layers of softness and sentiment. Without those, the movie would have been total bullshit. Bravo, old chap! Bravo!
Following that was a tribute to Blue Rodeo, which was a well illustrated (literally) depiction of one fan's love for this band. Nicely done...but in the end, the band he spoke of was SO god-awful!!! It honestly ruined the entire short for me. For crying out loud, get some taste, man!
A short doc on jam sessions occurred after that which was interesting in theory, but way too scattered...followed by a documentary on a piano factory. I was interested in this at first as it was extremely well done...but soon I drifted off into a nap, and when I came to some guy was talking about piano auras and other existential theories which in my cranky waking state ruined the whole thing for me. I went back to sleep.
But then as the opening notes of "Faded Love" hit my ears, I sat up straight with eyes and ears wide open. The documentary on Bob Wills contained TONS of footage I had never seen, including the McKinney Sisters! I sat transfixed and teary-eyed throughout. It was wonderful.
After the lights came on they did a Q&A session and lo and behold! Rusty & Jason had made it in without my noticing. Rusty did a great Q&A job complete with an embarrassing moment for me, when he pointed to me and told people to go check out my band. Ay-yi-yi. Floor, swallow me now.
Having an adventurous mindset with no real objectives, I spent the rest of the day with those guys. We went to grab a bite at Casino and then Rusty did what I now know is "his thing" which is to sneak me into a party to which I am not invited. All of a sudden I am in a Directors' Guild of America party with a whiskey and coke in my hand and having an intense conversation with some cute producer fellow from Tucson. I told him the story of the human ear and we worked out a basic outline for the most effective telling.
On the whole, I found the hair in the affair to be a little too carefully feathered and tousled. I saw a few too many drunk skinny chicks hanging on the arms of guys wearing cool t-shirts under blazers, with jeans. What a larf. Oh, did I say "larf?" I meant "lark."
To top it all off I am talking with the fellow from Tucson when my Phoenix-based costume designer of a brother calls me to tell me he's passing through town. I give him directions to the party and he pulls up and for five minutes, he hobnobs with the Tucson producer. I give him a hug, and off he went. I probably won't see him again for yet another year.
By this point, my adventures had reached the pinnacle of surreal and things began to wind down. I had come to terms with my M.O. for the day, which was to adopt an uncharacteristic "lamb-who-follows-unquestioningly" approach to my night with the Film Dudes (which is the name I gave them in my cell phone).
This brought me to the Paramount theater and the premier of "Drop Dead Sexy" starring Jason Lee and Crispin Glover (reference a few blogs back for other projects of Crispie's). Unfortunately I couldn't hang when the guys tried to sneak me in, so I left...but then I realized I could *gasp!* PAY for a ticket to see the movie. I did, and I laughed and laughed all the way through....a guilty laugh, for what I heard in the murmers surrounding me, those in the film industry apparently thought it was "obvious." That's cool...they're about their films like I'm about roots music. I'll gladly make fun of any band with a big orange Gretsch as being "too obvious" any day.
Afterward we traipsed down to the Dicks reunion part 2, where I gradually realized my adventures had gotten the best of me. I took my leave of everybody, went home and passed out. Adventures complete!
ADVENTURES OF A DIFFERENT ILK
When I woke up yesterday I found out poor Emily's car had gotten broken into, wrecked and her stereo stolen. Our plumbing has a leak that has slowly but THOROUGHLY mildewed both of our closets, and I learned that we have an untameable hornet/mosquito/wasp issue, and that our bathroom window fell out out of the frame.
Nonplussed, I took the dog and escaped to Town Lake. It was an amazing day outside; warm and sunny with a strong, cool breeze. We happened upon a kite festival and so I lay down, staring in silence at all the kites in the sky above me. Roxy sat quietly next to me, nose pointed upward, doing the same. I got pegged in the side with a kite, too. Awesome. :)
What a fantastic weekend.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Planning an adventure can sometimes really work! Part One
I got off work on Friday evening with no plans in sight, and I felt strangely comfortable with this. Unfortunately this means I started off my weekend with a comfy nap, so I didn't make my braised artichoke stuffed with sun-dried tomato and ricotta as I had planned....BUT I WILL! Never fear.
Around 8:30 I hit Noel Waggener's art opening at Little City. He's a really amazing poster artist, in my opinion. It's a highbrow approach to lowbrow culture, and cool as all hell. I met some good people, too; a girl named Erin, and a few visiting from out of town who were very pleasant young men indeed.
Around 11 after a couple of plastic cups of wine and as yet no food, I made my exit and drove on down the road in search of something yet to be discovered. Somehow I ended up at the Dicks reunion show which I hadn't previously considered , because it cost too danged much.
But, my mood was propelling me and so I paid twelve bucks to get in....and promptly left, in search of I know not what (except maybe my freebie drink from my favorite Casino bartendress). On the way to Casino I unexpectedly ran into the wee clairvoyant yellow-ascot-wearing Austrian filmmaker (reference blog from early last week, and hereby to be referred to as the WCYAWAF). He was sitting with another fairly lost-looking filmmaker guy...but they were sitting all close and intimate which made me feel odd, so what do I do? I insensitively drag them both to Casino with me to sit at the bar while they drink water and watch me watch my ex-boyfriend and down whiskey and cokes...until at some point I realized that THIS was no adventure whatsoever. It was just pathetic.
So, I bid the WCYAWAF and his ambiguous buddy farewell, and tottered off back to Room 710 to get my goddamned money's worth. On the way I ate an al pastor taco. As I munched I idly wondered why I paid 12 bucks to get into the Dicks not even knowing if I would stay, but by then I had already paid and already left and come back to 710, so too little thought too late. Shrug.
I went in and Frankie's band was playing furiously and he looked adorable. That guy is the compendium of adorable anyway. He really is one of the gentlest and sweetest souls I know in this town.
I love his stage presence. He got all bloody and so I got all mama on him and warshed his wounds and chided him even though I know when I play and get blood all over my guitar I never EVER give a shit. I watched the Dicks reunion and all the people watching the Dicks reunion and it was a pretty damned good show.
Afterwards I whisked Frankie off to my house to make him sandwiches because as I said, I got all mama on his ass. I grilled up a feta-mozzerella-red-pepper-spinach-sundried tomato sandwich just for him and we sat in the living room hanging out with Cary and Emily for a while.
Then I took him back to his house and found out two fabulous things: 1) Frankie now lives in a house on the street behind me; and 2) his great roommate had a fellow staying with her that I had kind of wanted to meet even a couple of weeks ago, when I first heard about the 'Ramones and I" short documentary which was to be aired this week at the SXSW filmfest. So I went over to Frankie's and met Rusty Nails and his friend 'Tall Guy' Jason (who has obviously never met Westen, who is 7 foot 2). I really loved meeting them both; they were interested and interesting, friendly, dynamic people.
I talked with them for a while, getting all geeky and playing them the Casey Sisters and talking about loads of music and movies. I drove home (I don't know why I was driving, my house was a three-minute walk from there) and slept well with my girls by my side.
I slept well in part because I had NO idea what I was going to do today (Saturday). I figured that my evening's solo adventures could be considered a rousing success and more fun than I would have thought imaginable for planning jack-shit...so as I drifted off to sleep I resolved that the next day I would have yet MORE adventures.
And what do you know? I awoke this morning and DID have more adventures! I'll tell you about them in the morning. I've got to get some rest because tomorrow is going to be another adventure-filled day. I'm learning this because 1) I have no set plans, and 2) even if I just end up cleaning my room, I am quickly re-learning that "adventure" is merely a state of mind.
But then again, so's "drunk."
*hic*
Around 8:30 I hit Noel Waggener's art opening at Little City. He's a really amazing poster artist, in my opinion. It's a highbrow approach to lowbrow culture, and cool as all hell. I met some good people, too; a girl named Erin, and a few visiting from out of town who were very pleasant young men indeed.
Around 11 after a couple of plastic cups of wine and as yet no food, I made my exit and drove on down the road in search of something yet to be discovered. Somehow I ended up at the Dicks reunion show which I hadn't previously considered , because it cost too danged much.
But, my mood was propelling me and so I paid twelve bucks to get in....and promptly left, in search of I know not what (except maybe my freebie drink from my favorite Casino bartendress). On the way to Casino I unexpectedly ran into the wee clairvoyant yellow-ascot-wearing Austrian filmmaker (reference blog from early last week, and hereby to be referred to as the WCYAWAF). He was sitting with another fairly lost-looking filmmaker guy...but they were sitting all close and intimate which made me feel odd, so what do I do? I insensitively drag them both to Casino with me to sit at the bar while they drink water and watch me watch my ex-boyfriend and down whiskey and cokes...until at some point I realized that THIS was no adventure whatsoever. It was just pathetic.
So, I bid the WCYAWAF and his ambiguous buddy farewell, and tottered off back to Room 710 to get my goddamned money's worth. On the way I ate an al pastor taco. As I munched I idly wondered why I paid 12 bucks to get into the Dicks not even knowing if I would stay, but by then I had already paid and already left and come back to 710, so too little thought too late. Shrug.
I went in and Frankie's band was playing furiously and he looked adorable. That guy is the compendium of adorable anyway. He really is one of the gentlest and sweetest souls I know in this town.
I love his stage presence. He got all bloody and so I got all mama on him and warshed his wounds and chided him even though I know when I play and get blood all over my guitar I never EVER give a shit. I watched the Dicks reunion and all the people watching the Dicks reunion and it was a pretty damned good show.
Afterwards I whisked Frankie off to my house to make him sandwiches because as I said, I got all mama on his ass. I grilled up a feta-mozzerella-red-pepper-spinach-sundried tomato sandwich just for him and we sat in the living room hanging out with Cary and Emily for a while.
Then I took him back to his house and found out two fabulous things: 1) Frankie now lives in a house on the street behind me; and 2) his great roommate had a fellow staying with her that I had kind of wanted to meet even a couple of weeks ago, when I first heard about the 'Ramones and I" short documentary which was to be aired this week at the SXSW filmfest. So I went over to Frankie's and met Rusty Nails and his friend 'Tall Guy' Jason (who has obviously never met Westen, who is 7 foot 2). I really loved meeting them both; they were interested and interesting, friendly, dynamic people.
I talked with them for a while, getting all geeky and playing them the Casey Sisters and talking about loads of music and movies. I drove home (I don't know why I was driving, my house was a three-minute walk from there) and slept well with my girls by my side.
I slept well in part because I had NO idea what I was going to do today (Saturday). I figured that my evening's solo adventures could be considered a rousing success and more fun than I would have thought imaginable for planning jack-shit...so as I drifted off to sleep I resolved that the next day I would have yet MORE adventures.
And what do you know? I awoke this morning and DID have more adventures! I'll tell you about them in the morning. I've got to get some rest because tomorrow is going to be another adventure-filled day. I'm learning this because 1) I have no set plans, and 2) even if I just end up cleaning my room, I am quickly re-learning that "adventure" is merely a state of mind.
But then again, so's "drunk."
*hic*
Tuesday, March 8, 2005
The WCYAWAF.
So I met a wee, clarivoyant Austrian man over the weekend.
He was hip and droll....but mainly just wee. He stills sticks in my mind today because he was such a character. He wore a yellow scarf as an ascot and talked about reflexology and other odd, mystic beliefs. He's a filmmaker who moved from Vienna to Austin only 3 weeks ago. He was charming, but DEFINITELY a weirdie. I was strangely drawn to him, the way one can occasionally be to weirdies. It's not "Can I touch you?", but
Can I watch you?"
I even think he said something about having been involved with a cult, too. Maybe he's here to start the Austin chapter of "cult of the yellow-scarf-as-ascot". Not that we don't have enough of those here...they just stay indoors except for the Eeyore festival is all.
It's not every day one meets an ascot-wearing wee clairvoyant Austrian man, so I felt I should make note of it.
He told me the Austrian word for "mullet," too. Wahoo! (Uh, NO. It's not "wahoo.")
Oh, yes! One more thing. True to form, my inbox this morning had yet another apropo "Word of the Day." How do they do it?
**************************************
Word of the Day for Monday March 7, 2005
fey \FAY\, adjective:
1. Possessing or displaying a strange and otherworldly aspect
or quality; magical or fairylike; elfin.
2. Having power to see into the future; visionary;
clairvoyant.
3. Appearing slightly crazy, as if under a spell; touched.
4. (Scots.) Fated to die; doomed.
5. (Scots.) Marked by a sense of approaching death.
He was hip and droll....but mainly just wee. He stills sticks in my mind today because he was such a character. He wore a yellow scarf as an ascot and talked about reflexology and other odd, mystic beliefs. He's a filmmaker who moved from Vienna to Austin only 3 weeks ago. He was charming, but DEFINITELY a weirdie. I was strangely drawn to him, the way one can occasionally be to weirdies. It's not "Can I touch you?", but
Can I watch you?"
I even think he said something about having been involved with a cult, too. Maybe he's here to start the Austin chapter of "cult of the yellow-scarf-as-ascot". Not that we don't have enough of those here...they just stay indoors except for the Eeyore festival is all.
It's not every day one meets an ascot-wearing wee clairvoyant Austrian man, so I felt I should make note of it.
He told me the Austrian word for "mullet," too. Wahoo! (Uh, NO. It's not "wahoo.")
Oh, yes! One more thing. True to form, my inbox this morning had yet another apropo "Word of the Day." How do they do it?
**************************************
Word of the Day for Monday March 7, 2005
fey \FAY\, adjective:
1. Possessing or displaying a strange and otherworldly aspect
or quality; magical or fairylike; elfin.
2. Having power to see into the future; visionary;
clairvoyant.
3. Appearing slightly crazy, as if under a spell; touched.
4. (Scots.) Fated to die; doomed.
5. (Scots.) Marked by a sense of approaching death.
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