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© Mercy Desdemona 2013

© Mercy Desdemona 2013

© Mercy Desdemona 2013

© Mercy Desdemona 2013

    My Love <3 © Mercy Desdemona 2013

My Love ❤
© Mercy Desdemona 2013

© Mercy Desdemona 2013

© Mercy Desdemona 2013

© Mercy Desdemona 2013

© Mercy Desdemona 2013

Artemia – Episode 1 – Late Posting!

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Attention Devils and Ghouls,

I apologize for posting this late. My weekend was full of events I was unaware of and I do hope you forgive me and enjoy the passage below.

– Mercy Desdemona

 

 

Artemia: Ep.1

         I am an old soul trapped within a young body. I remember every detail, scent, name, etc. All of my lives. From beginning to end. I sit here smoking a cigarette, watching the smoke curl. A century ago, I was Bernadatte. A wealthy woman with a lot of political influence. My soul was born in 5 A.D. No I am not a vampire or a creature of the night. I am just a mere soul that refuses to rest in peace. No matter how hard I try. So here we are in 2013. I’m a young woman of twenty-three and I work as a receptionist at a tattoo parlor. I have to say, I have been lucky with my soul finding attractive people to call home. In the 1920s, I was Annabel Lee the Flapper. In the 1950s, I was a pin-up working a long side Betty Page. And in 2013, I’m a lovely and eccentric young woman.

        My name is Artemia. As I’ve stated before. I’m twenty-three. I live in a cabin near Dark Pond. Secluded by trees and away from town. Just how I like it. I hate when people say they wish they could live forever. You don’t realize how stressful it is. I know you hear this tons of times from vampire tales and all that jazz, but it really is a painful journey. No amount of anger management courses can help me with this pure anger and stress I feel at times. So I deal with it in my own manner. I’m working tonight, the late shift. Avery’s Tattoo parlor is in between two bars and is right in the down town area near the pizza shop. So tonight will be nothing more than a drunk tattoo spree. I couldn’t tell you how many people coming in here claiming to be oh so in love and get names tattooed on them…but it turns out to be either spelled wrong or the wrong woman/man’s name. Don’t get names tattooed Ladies and Gents. Because I guarantee within the next three weeks, you’ll be back in the tattoo chair getting a cover up.

         I’m sitting here watching the news. When will people learn the world is not just black and white. The human brain cannot comprehend what is all out there. We aren’t meant to know everything. Stop bitching about religion and politics and smell the flowers asshole. It’s times like this where I remember Morty. Morty Ives, my lover in 1925. Asshole made me swim with the fishes after our child was born. All because it wasn’t a son. It was a calm night in 1925. I was coming home with Betsy Murr from the new picture. Morty was waiting for me at the usual corner. He didn’t like to show his face. Pigs would be all over him. Our daughter, Linda Mae, was in his arms. She looked like she was sleeping. AS if she was just rocked into a slumber. Morty smiled at me and took me out to Denver’s Pond just a little bit out of town. At first, I objected. The cool night air could be too cold for Linda Mae. Morty insisted. When we arrived, his smile faded. An evil came over his straight face. Two male figures approached us out of the dark. Morty looked at me. “Annabel Lee… I believe you promised me a son as our first born. And since you’ve broken a promise…” He dropped Linda Mae on the ground. She was stone cold dead. I let out a cry and then a scream. “Morty! How could you do this?! To our child!” He smacked me across the face and snickered. “Devil Woman!” He proclaimed before having his two goons tie me up and gag me. “Devil woman! Gave me a devil child!” He sent me to drown… my demise… all the while screaming that I was a devil woman with a devil child. His chant were the final words I heard.

      Once Annabel died, my soul found a new host. A woman who found Annabel’s body. Yep. I found my own dead corpse. And I was allowed to do my duty as a responsible citizen to get Morty Ives and the Goons locked up until their dying day. Mother flippin’ Justice! How about them apples? Morty, I hope you never rest in peace. More like resting in pieces.

                    I made it to Avery’s Tattoo Parlor on time. Some rather large woman was pulling down her pants to get a tramp stamp of a butterfly. Poor Avery. I sat down at the front desk to help some customers. Tonight shall be interesting.

– End Part One-

&copy; Mercy Desdemona 2013

“Tune In” next Friday at 11:00PM for the Next “Episode”.

Comment below with your feedback and get a chance to have your blog mentioned at the end of one of our videos!

= Mercy Desdemona =

Back to Vocals!

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Dear Creeps,

As you may have read in previous self journey blog posts of mine, I was a singer when I was younger. From the age I could talk to about my senior year in high school I sang so much. I ranked 4th in singing competition for my area, sang with the college choir and more. After high school ended, I neglected my vocals due to the tiring ways of college that was bestowed upon me. I honestly, had no idea what a depressive mess I had become without singing as much as I used to. It was my stress relief. My confidant. My friend.

After three years of neglecting my friend, it’s time to get back to vocals! I have to find my range all over again and start from square one. My boyfriend and I are working hard to get a band together and work on some covers of which I’m sure will be posted on the web once perfected. I have to thank my boyfriend for inspiring me to be myself again. The fire inside me was starting to grow dim until I met someone that had the same music dream as I. We work well together and I look forward to getting back into practice and being where I belong.

I also would like to take bass up again. But, that will come after I re-gain my confidence for singing. A part of me died in 2005, when my grandfather passed away. I was really close with the man, and I sang to him three weeks before he died. That was the first time I saw tears in my grandfathers eyes. (He was a stubborn, German man that didn’t show emotion other than wise ass in front of people.) After he had passed, I was saddened by his loss and only sang when it came to specific events for school.

Today, I have been finding my old vocal warm ups and exercises. I have the biggest fear of destroying my voice! That would be the worst thing to ever happen to me. But it’s best to exercise the muscle and get it to where I’d like it and be respectful to my body. Singing will open the world to me again. I feel the fire burning inside me again. I have a confidence yet shyness mixed within. Deep inside, this is the place I want to be. In front of the mic, telling my story for people. Hopefully, touching the emotions within people that listen to me.

I will admit, I have a low confidence because I’m in desperate need of braces. I’m also worried with the jaw problems I’m suffering caused by my uneven teeth will cause singing issues. That is something I do not want. But, I am not going to let this put me down. For three long years I hung up my music creation and became a “desk person”. I am not a desk person. My ambition for life is too powerful to be behind a desk.

This is my quest. To re-gain what I had and to pursue my happy place.

– Mercy Desdemona

Creep Question: Have you ever stopped doing something dear to your heart? Why? Have you ever gone back? If you want to share, feel free to comment below.