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Monday, 7 December 2015
91-Year Old Woman Died During Sex
A 91-year-old woman is believed to have suffocated during a sex game with her 49-year-old neighbour.
The woman was found on her bed naked from her waist down next to a sex toy in Aveiro, 50 miles south of Porto, Portugal.
A married dad-of-two living next door has been arrested after DNA analysis of semen recovered from the scene.
He was released on bail after going before a judge who was told autopsy results showed she died from asphyxia thought to have taken place during a sex game that spiraled out of control.
The death is believed to be the result of a tragic accident.
A neighbour described the woman, who lived alone, as being “very active” despite her age and said the neighbour often went round her house to do odd jobs.
Police say there was no sign of a forced entry and nothing had been taken from the house.
Credit: Gistmania.com
Holly Woodlawn Passed Away At 69
So sad. Holly Woodlawn, a transgender actress known for her appearance in Andy Warhol’s work, passed away at 69 years old on Dec. 6 after battling cancer. Find out more about Holly below.
The transgender community lost an icon on Dec. 7. Holly Woodlawn, an actress who was made famous by Andy Warhol and her roles in Paul Morrissey‘s films, died in Los Angeles after losing a fight with cancer at 69 years old. Gone too soon, she will live on through her films and “Walk on the Wild Side,” a Lou Reed song that immortalizes the transgender legend.Holly began her career as a transgender icon after running away from home at just 15 years old and hitchhiking to New York City, according to the Associated Press. After making the bold move, she became one of Andy’s drag queen “superstars,” quickly gaining attention from filmmakers and landing roles in several independent films for which she received critical acclaim. Holly’s story inspired musician Lou Reed to write a song about her called “Walk on the Wild Side.” In the tune, Lou sings, “Holly came from Miami, F.L.A. Hitchhiked her way across the U.S.A. Plucked her eyebrows on the way. Shaved her legs and then he was a she. She says, ‘Hey, babe, take a walk on the wild side.'”
Although she never found mainstream success, Holly made a slight comeback in the 1990s in more independent films such as Twin Falls Idaho and Milwaukee, Minnesota. Before falling ill, Holly made an appearance in two episodes of the Amazon TV show Transparent as a character named Vivian.
Patience Is a Skill.........Why?
Someone once said that anger is like drinking poison and hoping your
enemy will die. Impatience is similarly ridiculous. You're in a rush, a
salesperson is moving in slow motion, and you're ready to kill. The
problem is, the person you're torturing is your own pitiful self: Your
nerves are shredding, stress hormones are streaking through your body,
and your heart's racing with scenarios of the tragedies that will ensue
from being late. And you're not accomplishing a thing. Your frenzy is
useless. You're trying to squirm out of the present into the future:
Good luck with that. You are irrevocably and inescapably stuck in the
moment—your feet are tied to it; you are a spoke in time's wheel. Writhe
and holler as much as you want, you're not going anywhere. You are
here. Immobile behind the customer with the endless questions, on the
street with a tantrum-throwing child, at dinner with your husband who's
telling that story yet again while you almost expire of lethal boredom.
There is an antidote, however, and its very name—patience—makes me ache with boredom. It speaks of self-control, restraint, delayed gratification. What is less fun? Impulsivity, intensity, drama—now we're talking! But after years of twisting and burning in the fires of impatience, I've come to appreciate patience as the supreme medicine. Apply patience, and frustration goes away, outrage cools, peace is yours.
The revelation for me was that patience is a skill, not an inherited trait I happened not to inherit. It leads to relaxation, not self-harnessing. It gives you the freedom to have a pleasant time even when the traffic gods are playing with you. It converts the helpless rage of impatience into a delicious sense of spaciousness. See for yourself:
1. First thing: Just stop. Catch the mind ranting that you shouldn't be in this situation—because you are. Give up the fight. You've lost the battle, but not the war.
2. Settle into the moment. You might feel your body ease down, yielding to gravity (wise move). Your shoulders and belly relax, your jaw too.
3. Go into your body with your mind's eye and find out how you know you're impatient. Are you tight, tense, breathing shallowly, clenching, jiggling? Where exactly? Focus on those sensations as closely as you can. Touch them with your mind.
4. See if you can open any tightness, breathe into any clenching. With a really ornery knot, give up trying to fix it and see if you can welcome it, make room for it.
Once your brain cools down, your powers of reason return. You thank God for cell phones and call to say you'll be late. You figure out how you can make up the minutes or hours lost to traffic. You understand your husband is telling the story again because he's nervous, and that kind of touches you. And really, it's all going to be okay.
When you give up the fight, you get time. Time stretches. You sink into the moment, and it seems infinite. You have all the time in the world.
There is an antidote, however, and its very name—patience—makes me ache with boredom. It speaks of self-control, restraint, delayed gratification. What is less fun? Impulsivity, intensity, drama—now we're talking! But after years of twisting and burning in the fires of impatience, I've come to appreciate patience as the supreme medicine. Apply patience, and frustration goes away, outrage cools, peace is yours.
The revelation for me was that patience is a skill, not an inherited trait I happened not to inherit. It leads to relaxation, not self-harnessing. It gives you the freedom to have a pleasant time even when the traffic gods are playing with you. It converts the helpless rage of impatience into a delicious sense of spaciousness. See for yourself:
1. First thing: Just stop. Catch the mind ranting that you shouldn't be in this situation—because you are. Give up the fight. You've lost the battle, but not the war.
2. Settle into the moment. You might feel your body ease down, yielding to gravity (wise move). Your shoulders and belly relax, your jaw too.
3. Go into your body with your mind's eye and find out how you know you're impatient. Are you tight, tense, breathing shallowly, clenching, jiggling? Where exactly? Focus on those sensations as closely as you can. Touch them with your mind.
4. See if you can open any tightness, breathe into any clenching. With a really ornery knot, give up trying to fix it and see if you can welcome it, make room for it.
Once your brain cools down, your powers of reason return. You thank God for cell phones and call to say you'll be late. You figure out how you can make up the minutes or hours lost to traffic. You understand your husband is telling the story again because he's nervous, and that kind of touches you. And really, it's all going to be okay.
When you give up the fight, you get time. Time stretches. You sink into the moment, and it seems infinite. You have all the time in the world.
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