I WAITED ALL NIGHT.
i am still waiting.
i will always be waiting.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
those nights you never call
three variants of the exact same song came on repeat in a row on a playlist of about two hundred songs
wondering if this is march's work
it's distressfulcomfortingexactly how i feel
wondering if this is march's work
it's distressfulcomfortingexactly how i feel
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
long long ago
We were walking along the beach, and you started to lag behind. Rain fell about us, transforming the world into one secluded existence. I turned to speak to you, but by then you were gone, lost, out of sight. Calling out, I backtracked. It seemed hours--or too long, in the least--before your voice came from the sea. There you were, knee-deep in Atlantic waters, hair tousled and salty.
It was in the room with the old piano that we would sit and dry our sodden selves. You would lay on the soft pillows and look out at the churning waves, one hand so lightly upon the pane and lips barely parted.
I would watch you for hours, but you had eyes only for the sea.
It was in the room with the old piano that we would sit and dry our sodden selves. You would lay on the soft pillows and look out at the churning waves, one hand so lightly upon the pane and lips barely parted.
I would watch you for hours, but you had eyes only for the sea.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Isaac, Isaiah, which are you???
he says to call him Isaac, with that pretty little smile and a flash of wolfish teeth, and so they trust him
Until you lead them to the seclusion of Night-- all those pretty little girls in their pretty red skirts, twirling their dainty handbags 'round and 'round, it just drives you mad, doesn't it?
Isaac oh Isaiah, you show your face far too much, and those who know you expect much and more than a sulky little frown
he says to call him Isaac, with that pretty little smile and a flash of wolfish teeth, and so they trust him
Until you lead them to the seclusion of Night-- all those pretty little girls in their pretty red skirts, twirling their dainty handbags 'round and 'round, it just drives you mad, doesn't it?
Isaac oh Isaiah, you show your face far too much, and those who know you expect much and more than a sulky little frown
Monday, November 23, 2009
my reflection on today
Promise not to bother when in reality it's all you do.
How droll! How simply exquisite that this is conceivably a "novel" concept, when you knew you'd break it. You always do.
Ahaha we knew you were pathetic before you ever thought it up.
People lose themselves when drawn here, and only those we know retain their names. Inhabitants of that house, all.
It's still with me, though I've run miles to escape it.
How droll! How simply exquisite that this is conceivably a "novel" concept, when you knew you'd break it. You always do.
Ahaha we knew you were pathetic before you ever thought it up.
People lose themselves when drawn here, and only those we know retain their names. Inhabitants of that house, all.
It's still with me, though I've run miles to escape it.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
dreams
"I wanna laugh but I just don't have the energy or the motivation. That dream hit me hard like a semi-truck, and a man like me ain't no better than a deer in the headlights when its ilk come 'round. I don't dream about her often, but when I do it's so profound it leaves me in a haze for days."
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
epistulae
but every time I write the letter
I just end up throwing it away
I don't know why I still try
I guess I just miss you.
I just end up throwing it away
I don't know why I still try
I guess I just miss you.
Friday, October 23, 2009
The Akara
I've been standing at this precipice for years. Time and again, I take one step closer to that threshold, the lights beaming up to my rooftop from the bustle of the congregation below. Soon I am standing with one foot off of the edge, but there is always something that takes it back, until here I am, one, two, three strides and off I would fall, down into the noise and glamour.
I can't wait anymore. If I am to jump, leap, fall, or simply step off of that cement lip, I had best do it now. The wind whips my hair about my face. So long to these kite strings! There was never any more point in this all if I could never tell it to you, and then you were gone, forever out of my reach. I saw it in dreams and in waking, yet did nothing to tell you just what it is I meant. Did I even mean anything after all?
The toes of my shoes jut out into empty space, casting shadows in the spotlight, though the light still catches my face, now featureless. So long to fate! O, how long I have toted your image with me, and now I release it into the winds and night sky. There is only endless space, space, space until I will hit the crowd. They have been waiting for so long, heads upturned in eager anticipation, and one thousand throbbing hearts beat in unison as they whisper for the final act to commence.
In another lifetime, I jumped.
I can't wait anymore. If I am to jump, leap, fall, or simply step off of that cement lip, I had best do it now. The wind whips my hair about my face. So long to these kite strings! There was never any more point in this all if I could never tell it to you, and then you were gone, forever out of my reach. I saw it in dreams and in waking, yet did nothing to tell you just what it is I meant. Did I even mean anything after all?
The toes of my shoes jut out into empty space, casting shadows in the spotlight, though the light still catches my face, now featureless. So long to fate! O, how long I have toted your image with me, and now I release it into the winds and night sky. There is only endless space, space, space until I will hit the crowd. They have been waiting for so long, heads upturned in eager anticipation, and one thousand throbbing hearts beat in unison as they whisper for the final act to commence.
In another lifetime, I jumped.
well fuck me what did I want to talk about? no one cares. or at least, I don't, not really not truly and this is all a singsongsong lilted speech of the sparrows long since fled.
I have the attic room the attic room brings out the worst in me. So too do the dreams.
No no not to mind never mind this is a song song sing song fiction.
I have the attic room the attic room brings out the worst in me. So too do the dreams.
No no not to mind never mind this is a song song sing song fiction.
Monday, October 19, 2009
insomnia
There will be no sleep tonight, no solace for the wicked, and such a vile heart indeed!
---
I really don't remember writing this at all!
---
I really don't remember writing this at all!
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
sabuoh
A sudden memory came to me today.
The moors were draped in sheets of gentle rain. As I looked around myself, I could see all across the crisscrossed landscape, up to my knees in cold mud, a horseshoe crab in my right hand. The sweet scent of rain, mud, and the subtlest smell of salt stinging my nostrils. The sea, the sea... Brackish water swirling around my legs, and rain dripping down my face. Dreary landscape for a dreary child, but this was true contentment. This was to exist, with no one for miles, and the sea--
So vivid, it seemed for a moment that was where I was. Sometimes I forget. Did this ever even happen?
The moors were draped in sheets of gentle rain. As I looked around myself, I could see all across the crisscrossed landscape, up to my knees in cold mud, a horseshoe crab in my right hand. The sweet scent of rain, mud, and the subtlest smell of salt stinging my nostrils. The sea, the sea... Brackish water swirling around my legs, and rain dripping down my face. Dreary landscape for a dreary child, but this was true contentment. This was to exist, with no one for miles, and the sea--
So vivid, it seemed for a moment that was where I was. Sometimes I forget. Did this ever even happen?
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
sibiu in winter is nothing like you've seen
[cryptic so you don't have to be!]
---
when i was a young man
i loved a maiden fair
with eyes blue as the sky
and lilacs in her hair
---
Shining shoes in the evening was never a good idea.
We were expected to rise late, long past noon, and ride into our sweatshops on the backs of intolerable peccaries, draped all in roses long since rotted. As the sun casts its dying red light like the sinewy tendons of some great beast, we drag ourselves along the cement until our nails break off and our bellies are bloodied, all for the sake of some two-bit aristocrat whose only desire is to return home at night in the hopes that their wives might be waiting. It is only the catamites for these pederasts.
Once our tongues cracked dry, we slid that burning iron down our throats, taking our time so that we might delight in our trial. That was all it was about anymore; the trials. There was no longer a sense of dignity, of refinement, in our art. Where once we had brought out the brilliance in the most decrepit of footwear, now we were simply toiling.
All for nothing but the chance to crawl back home
back home
back to the hearth.
Sunday's crimes are the dreams of August.
---
The only thing on my mind is that night beneath the stars, when the constellations panned before us, and we laughed.
and we laughed
Has it been so long?
---
when i was a young man
i loved a maiden fair
with eyes blue as the sky
and lilacs in her hair
---
Shining shoes in the evening was never a good idea.
We were expected to rise late, long past noon, and ride into our sweatshops on the backs of intolerable peccaries, draped all in roses long since rotted. As the sun casts its dying red light like the sinewy tendons of some great beast, we drag ourselves along the cement until our nails break off and our bellies are bloodied, all for the sake of some two-bit aristocrat whose only desire is to return home at night in the hopes that their wives might be waiting. It is only the catamites for these pederasts.
Once our tongues cracked dry, we slid that burning iron down our throats, taking our time so that we might delight in our trial. That was all it was about anymore; the trials. There was no longer a sense of dignity, of refinement, in our art. Where once we had brought out the brilliance in the most decrepit of footwear, now we were simply toiling.
All for nothing but the chance to crawl back home
back home
back to the hearth.
Sunday's crimes are the dreams of August.
---
The only thing on my mind is that night beneath the stars, when the constellations panned before us, and we laughed.
and we laughed
Has it been so long?
Thursday, September 17, 2009
what does that even make sense no
you know, sometimes i think i need someone to talk to who isn't
i dunno
the person in question
i dunno
the person in question
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
the Dream Eater
There has been a dream eater at the foot of my bed ever since I got back. I thought he would have left after we moved, but he's still here; I can't see his face, but I feel his eyes on me, watching, always watching. He's well fed, and when I get up he slinks into the closet, but someone tells me he's getting too large for it. I don't even know who; he's eating away at sleep and mind, and thought comes sluggishly, reluctantly. Nothing is to be sensible when he feeds, and he is feeding.
He is always feeding. I don't know the last time I got more than an hour of sleep. Before I returned. Before this. Before, before, before.
He is always feeding. I don't know the last time I got more than an hour of sleep. Before I returned. Before this. Before, before, before.
Friday, August 21, 2009
a game of thrones casting
So, announcements for the HBO cast...
The person for Theon is god fucking hideous. I imagined Theon being quite comely... but... cripes.
HEY EMMA read that book already goddamn!
The person for Theon is god fucking hideous. I imagined Theon being quite comely... but... cripes.
HEY EMMA read that book already goddamn!
Monday, July 13, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
What have I been doing?
Well I've been writing a tonne, story stuff you know. Hm, and.. that's the main thing, really! Are and myself may be going to ~*~France~*~ or ~*~Germany~*~ or something for a week. Depends how much money we have. Hmmm. Yeah, also splurging money on military shit in Camden.
But really, I'm spending a lot of time writing for our story. Nothing great, but a lot more than I was before (~6 pages in three months? And now I have, what, ~25? In one?).
HM HM WHEN WILL A DANCE WITH DRAGONS COME OUT? NEVER? A...awww. Though if he chooses Melisandre's P.O.V. over Loras', I WON'T CARE I hate her.
But really, I'm spending a lot of time writing for our story. Nothing great, but a lot more than I was before (~6 pages in three months? And now I have, what, ~25? In one?).
HM HM WHEN WILL A DANCE WITH DRAGONS COME OUT? NEVER? A...awww. Though if he chooses Melisandre's P.O.V. over Loras', I WON'T CARE I hate her.
Monday, June 1, 2009
our nightmares us do not make in time a thought which of syntax persists not
titular subjects in dreary evenings on a quiet moor.
What does the gillyflower signify to the small lark upon the fence which divides our fields? Does it mean anything when night falls? Or does it whither and die as the crickets come to life? How melancholic!
We are prone to such thoughts in the cold of a cave filled with echoes. How long do you insist on continuing this?
Questions
Questions
questions?
Prerogative of my inner thoughts. What does it--
No more questions. We are through for now, or at least until it is deemed appropriate. For now it is word and law which conquers the night. Of all the gloomy things, night seems to persist in its standard of eerie, however I find it calming and sensible. Italics in unnecessary places bring forth emphasis where none is needed.
CANTABILE
0000919 0621
Cantabile will recede until a proper thought occurs to iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiihim.
sssssssssllllllliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide you can't believe if it's been a while been a long time but hey doc, what do you know now? we know there's no more time left whehehehen it's been a long been a long been a long long whiiiiiiiiiiiiile
When we speak of summer it is in hushed tones.
Don't let them hear you, they whispered through the walls.
No one ever listens to the voices in the walls, for they mislead just as they guide. It is best to hear but not follow when they speak, yet the house could just as easily kill you if you disregard them completely.
"Sometimes our arms bend back," struck us because the Evermore once whispered the very same.
What does the gillyflower signify to the small lark upon the fence which divides our fields? Does it mean anything when night falls? Or does it whither and die as the crickets come to life? How melancholic!
We are prone to such thoughts in the cold of a cave filled with echoes. How long do you insist on continuing this?
Questions
Questions
questions?
Prerogative of my inner thoughts. What does it--
No more questions. We are through for now, or at least until it is deemed appropriate. For now it is word and law which conquers the night. Of all the gloomy things, night seems to persist in its standard of eerie, however I find it calming and sensible. Italics in unnecessary places bring forth emphasis where none is needed.
CANTABILE
0000919 0621
Cantabile will recede until a proper thought occurs to iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiihim.
sssssssssllllllliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide you can't believe if it's been a while been a long time but hey doc, what do you know now? we know there's no more time left whehehehen it's been a long been a long been a long long whiiiiiiiiiiiiile
When we speak of summer it is in hushed tones.
Don't let them hear you, they whispered through the walls.
No one ever listens to the voices in the walls, for they mislead just as they guide. It is best to hear but not follow when they speak, yet the house could just as easily kill you if you disregard them completely.
"Sometimes our arms bend back," struck us because the Evermore once whispered the very same.
ahhh that really helped me unwind, thanks Emma. :[
Also, poetry.. poetry.. vignettes...
"o hay look at me i'm a feminine dylan cintOH FUCK MY PHONE IT'S IN THE ROAD AND THERE'S A BUS COMING OMIGAWDOMIGAWD!"
"DON'T WORRY, I'LL SACRIFICE MY FOOT FOR YOUR PHONE MAN."
okay no, I'll work on something later. This is just so I don't forget/
Also, poetry.. poetry.. vignettes...
"o hay look at me i'm a feminine dylan cintOH FUCK MY PHONE IT'S IN THE ROAD AND THERE'S A BUS COMING OMIGAWDOMIGAWD!"
"DON'T WORRY, I'LL SACRIFICE MY FOOT FOR YOUR PHONE MAN."
okay no, I'll work on something later. This is just so I don't forget/
Friday, May 29, 2009
style rippan gaems
man Berlioz looks like he always does, BUT TOULOUSE
THIS STYLE IS PERFECT FOR YOU PRINCEY DEAR.
oh my god this layout sucks seriously >=[ just click it
And now-
http://i459.photobucket.com/albums/qq311/tervuren/solomonimeanreallycomeoncopy.jpg
Sunday, May 24, 2009
aaaaaaaaaaaaaa
you know it's like a garden (forest) of clocks
it was 2:22 and paul made a wish but it was too late
chocolate faced white monkey babies
normally i hate monkeys but you guys
goddamnit monkey babies get the fuck out of here frsddsdf
i like women's asses better than i like your faces
me and maryyy
me and marryyyy
all the clocks in my room are off in hours but not in minutes
see i remembered haha
but everything's greeeaaattt and i mean i can't wait to see are so much
ribena is in my head for some reason???
suddenly so far around the bend sounds nothing like it used to and actually sounds just malicious
what
just wanted to say
it was 2:22 and paul made a wish but it was too late
chocolate faced white monkey babies
normally i hate monkeys but you guys
goddamnit monkey babies get the fuck out of here frsddsdf
i like women's asses better than i like your faces
me and maryyy
me and marryyyy
all the clocks in my room are off in hours but not in minutes
see i remembered haha
but everything's greeeaaattt and i mean i can't wait to see are so much
ribena is in my head for some reason???
suddenly so far around the bend sounds nothing like it used to and actually sounds just malicious
what
just wanted to say
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
australia
Oh so I love this song and all, but I heard "he's holding you down by the tips of his fingers" as "he's holding you down by the tits of his fingers" and now I cannot unhear it. :c
Monday, May 18, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
halp . . . - - - . . .
We have no key cookan ingredients.
I'm the only one home.
HALP I'M GONNA STARVE I HAVEN'T EATEN YET TODAY UGHHH.
I'm the only one home.
HALP I'M GONNA STARVE I HAVEN'T EATEN YET TODAY UGHHH.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Will The Summer Make Good For All Our Sins?
This song just came on shuffle, and I'd no idea I had it even though I love the band it's by (I had to search it up on Google, since it only gave song info in the file)
Holy tits, I think I pooed a little. This song is creepy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G3tuxHYpL0A
please don't cry for hammer in your teeth
we'll spoil the pretty snow that lies beneath
who go cry for hammer in her teeth
we'll spoil her pretty face at least she feels real
no-go cry for hammer in your teeth
we'll spoil the pretty snow that never feels real
breathe, you breathe
believe you me tonight
breath in, breath out
make good, make float
bleed you me
_u nott
please don't cry for hammer in your teeth
we'll spoil the pretty snow that lies beneath
and summer will make good for all of our sins
if we only wish it hard enough
breathe in, breathe out
who go who cry
believe you me
to night/mum night
breathe in, breathe out
make good, make float
bleed you me
_u nott
she cry, who closes eyes and hopes not to come back
Holy tits, I think I pooed a little. This song is creepy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G3tuxHYpL0A
please don't cry for hammer in your teeth
we'll spoil the pretty snow that lies beneath
who go cry for hammer in her teeth
we'll spoil her pretty face at least she feels real
no-go cry for hammer in your teeth
we'll spoil the pretty snow that never feels real
breathe, you breathe
believe you me tonight
breath in, breath out
make good, make float
bleed you me
_u nott
please don't cry for hammer in your teeth
we'll spoil the pretty snow that lies beneath
and summer will make good for all of our sins
if we only wish it hard enough
breathe in, breathe out
who go who cry
believe you me
to night/mum night
breathe in, breathe out
make good, make float
bleed you me
_u nott
she cry, who closes eyes and hopes not to come back
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
KLEID aus ROSEN
"Meister, Meister gib mir Rosen,
Rosen auf mein weißes Kleid,
stech die Blumen in den bloßen
unberührten Mädchenleib."
Ein gutes Mädchen lief einst fort,
verließ der Kindheit schönen Ort;
verließ die Eltern und sogar
den Mann, dem sie versprochen war.
Vor einem Haus da blieb sie stehn,
darinnen war ein Mann zu sehn
der Bilder stach in nackte Haut,
da rief das gute Mädchen laut:
"Meister, Meister gib mir Rosen,
Rosen auf mein weißes Kleid,
stech die Blumen in den bloßen
unberührten Mädchenleib."
'Diese Rosen kosten Blut',
sprach der Meister sanft und gut,
'enden früh dein junges Leben,
will dir lieber keine geben.'
Doch das Mädchen war vernarrt,
hat auf Knien ausgeharrt
bis er nicht mehr widerstand
und die Nadeln nahm zur Hand.
"Meister, Meister gib mir Rosen,
Rosen auf mein weißes Kleid,
stech die Blumen in den bloßen
unberührten Mädchenleib."
Und aus seinen tiefen Stichen
wuchsen Blätter, wuchsen Blüten,
wuchsen unbekannte Schmerzen
in dem jungen Mädchenherzen.
Später hat man sie gesehn,
einsam an den Wassern stehn.
Niemals hat man je erfahr´n,
welchen Preis der Meister nahm.
"Meister, Meister gib mir Rosen,
Rosen auf mein weißes Kleid,
stech die Blumen in den bloßen
unberührten Mädchenleib..."
---
This song won't get out of my head, nor will the imagery it brings. Hm.
Rosen auf mein weißes Kleid,
stech die Blumen in den bloßen
unberührten Mädchenleib."
Ein gutes Mädchen lief einst fort,
verließ der Kindheit schönen Ort;
verließ die Eltern und sogar
den Mann, dem sie versprochen war.
Vor einem Haus da blieb sie stehn,
darinnen war ein Mann zu sehn
der Bilder stach in nackte Haut,
da rief das gute Mädchen laut:
"Meister, Meister gib mir Rosen,
Rosen auf mein weißes Kleid,
stech die Blumen in den bloßen
unberührten Mädchenleib."
'Diese Rosen kosten Blut',
sprach der Meister sanft und gut,
'enden früh dein junges Leben,
will dir lieber keine geben.'
Doch das Mädchen war vernarrt,
hat auf Knien ausgeharrt
bis er nicht mehr widerstand
und die Nadeln nahm zur Hand.
"Meister, Meister gib mir Rosen,
Rosen auf mein weißes Kleid,
stech die Blumen in den bloßen
unberührten Mädchenleib."
Und aus seinen tiefen Stichen
wuchsen Blätter, wuchsen Blüten,
wuchsen unbekannte Schmerzen
in dem jungen Mädchenherzen.
Später hat man sie gesehn,
einsam an den Wassern stehn.
Niemals hat man je erfahr´n,
welchen Preis der Meister nahm.
"Meister, Meister gib mir Rosen,
Rosen auf mein weißes Kleid,
stech die Blumen in den bloßen
unberührten Mädchenleib..."
---
This song won't get out of my head, nor will the imagery it brings. Hm.
passer
So, watching Rome...
Octavian just recited Catullus 2. I feel like such a nerd that I recognized it.
Octavian just recited Catullus 2. I feel like such a nerd that I recognized it.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
on Sulla's terms
There shall be no congregations of more than three persons.
Caesar.
I don't know, I'm bored.
Caesar.
I don't know, I'm bored.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
this is false
Before they knew how to interpret what happened, it was poorly described and highly inaccurate. The following is an example of such. It never happened.
---
She lies, lazily, on her back, eyes glazed over.
“Bring it bring it bring it bring it back.”
Silky orbs dart to the corner of the room. Almost like home.
“I… you see… it just won’t work.”
“Bring it bring it bring it BACK,” repeats the voice from the dark corner.
“Everything, you see, everything is lacking, and then only the Room is left, and reigning, the rain comes, and the Leech King is smiling in your face.”
She twists and curls up.
“Cantabile, why…?”
“Dead poet you can’t be real you can’t come forth shut up shut up shut UP, come back bring it on.”
“I’m only akin to hear it coming forth from a prince, and the birthright of the King is yours and yours alone.”
Lurching from the shadows, the mechanical drone dragging itself from her throat, a marionette, a cheshire, a continuing adjective, Saline, claws at Cantabile’s face.
“This isn’t right. This is wrong. Why can’t I speak?” screams the girl on the bed to a silent window pane.
“If you will it, do it.”
Cantabile’s poetic voice is quiet and dark as he utters the words. Saline is a blur of limbs and hissing false fur.
“No, no, no, stop… please… I can’t stand it… Why?”
The rain raps against the glass, a chill wind whistles through the cracks in the wall.
“This ain’t no gotdamn nothin’ no child’s play just child prey. You can’t refuse this youyouyou can’t stop you gotta keep goin’ gotta keep doin’ gotta STOP.”
Sobbing, the girl falls off the bed, covered in covers and freezing from the cold of love. The house goes quiet, Cantabile’s eye peering at Saline as she dissipates into the shadows.
“And my Prince do come forth I am here only for You and every other.”
The girl keeps silent.
“From now on You can only be the one to success the person We fear and They abhor, while You are the brutal child of Love.”
She turned her head away.
“Cantabile… I...”
“12% is a name fitting for you, for that you are and that you shall be. Praise!”
Her eyes widen in horror as he utters these words, and she starts crying again. Of course, this was the only way things could work in the farmhouse, nothing to be surprised about. It was her fault for ever having come here. August used to always say how selfish she was because of it. Looking back on it, this seemed awfully true.
She thrust her face up to look Cantabile in the eye, feeling bile rise in her throat.
“Where is Atti?”
---
She lies, lazily, on her back, eyes glazed over.
“Bring it bring it bring it bring it back.”
Silky orbs dart to the corner of the room. Almost like home.
“I… you see… it just won’t work.”
“Bring it bring it bring it BACK,” repeats the voice from the dark corner.
“Everything, you see, everything is lacking, and then only the Room is left, and reigning, the rain comes, and the Leech King is smiling in your face.”
She twists and curls up.
“Cantabile, why…?”
“Dead poet you can’t be real you can’t come forth shut up shut up shut UP, come back bring it on.”
“I’m only akin to hear it coming forth from a prince, and the birthright of the King is yours and yours alone.”
Lurching from the shadows, the mechanical drone dragging itself from her throat, a marionette, a cheshire, a continuing adjective, Saline, claws at Cantabile’s face.
“This isn’t right. This is wrong. Why can’t I speak?” screams the girl on the bed to a silent window pane.
“If you will it, do it.”
Cantabile’s poetic voice is quiet and dark as he utters the words. Saline is a blur of limbs and hissing false fur.
“No, no, no, stop… please… I can’t stand it… Why?”
The rain raps against the glass, a chill wind whistles through the cracks in the wall.
“This ain’t no gotdamn nothin’ no child’s play just child prey. You can’t refuse this youyouyou can’t stop you gotta keep goin’ gotta keep doin’ gotta STOP.”
Sobbing, the girl falls off the bed, covered in covers and freezing from the cold of love. The house goes quiet, Cantabile’s eye peering at Saline as she dissipates into the shadows.
“And my Prince do come forth I am here only for You and every other.”
The girl keeps silent.
“From now on You can only be the one to success the person We fear and They abhor, while You are the brutal child of Love.”
She turned her head away.
“Cantabile… I...”
“12% is a name fitting for you, for that you are and that you shall be. Praise!”
Her eyes widen in horror as he utters these words, and she starts crying again. Of course, this was the only way things could work in the farmhouse, nothing to be surprised about. It was her fault for ever having come here. August used to always say how selfish she was because of it. Looking back on it, this seemed awfully true.
She thrust her face up to look Cantabile in the eye, feeling bile rise in her throat.
“Where is Atti?”
In April the output was high and constant. In May it is all records of musty old accounts.
Cantabile reminds me of the affair of the cupboard, which was not the first nor the last of its kind. It was an infestation of woodlice, their mouths gnawing at the bones of some forgotten inhabitant (the Evermore, so old that we had to pine over old clippings just to find it). Their mandibles mocked those who lived in the house.
(click click click)
Even after they'd left, the noise they left behind was deafening.
(click click click)
---
However, it is the Evermore that should be explained, not the bugs.
---
The Evermore rests in a watery grave surrounded by lilies almost as dead as itself. The fey lights which hover around it are immaterial, nonexistant, and should not be bothered with.
---
Cantabile will not co-operate with Saline prowling hungry.
stutter stutter
stutter
continue later(???)
Cantabile reminds me of the affair of the cupboard, which was not the first nor the last of its kind. It was an infestation of woodlice, their mouths gnawing at the bones of some forgotten inhabitant (the Evermore, so old that we had to pine over old clippings just to find it). Their mandibles mocked those who lived in the house.
(click click click)
Even after they'd left, the noise they left behind was deafening.
(click click click)
---
However, it is the Evermore that should be explained, not the bugs.
---
The Evermore rests in a watery grave surrounded by lilies almost as dead as itself. The fey lights which hover around it are immaterial, nonexistant, and should not be bothered with.
---
Cantabile will not co-operate with Saline prowling hungry.
stutter stutter
stutter
continue later(???)
the Attic
Nothing exists in the realm of the Attic but some old memories and shadows so ancient they do not remember their own origins. Things like this happen all too often, but the Attic is where they go to rest. They hate the living, because they are envious, if it can be called that, since their emotions (if you can if you can if you can call it that) are on a wholly different level than the inhabitants'.
You must never worship them.
You must never forget them.
You must never revere them.
You must respect them.
But you must never, ever
worship them.
[with regards to Cantabile, for allowing me the scriptures]
You must never worship them.
You must never forget them.
You must never revere them.
You must respect them.
But you must never, ever
worship them.
[with regards to Cantabile, for allowing me the scriptures]
the staircase
"It rose from the black sea, a twisting stairway that stretched to the heavens (commonly referred to as the ceiling, but no one is asking) and beyond, into the outer reaches of deep space (which may also be called the Attic). Its double helix wound in on itself, a tight curvature of flawless architecture. No one knew from where it sprung, but as it is not in their nature to be doubting of the intricacies of the house, no one said a word. They did venture to climb its length, though for some reason none of them could get anywhere, no matter how high they rose they always ended in the same spot.
After years, the staircase disappeared from the spot.
Or maybe it never existed in the first place."
CANTABILE
99136 78422 00b65
After years, the staircase disappeared from the spot.
Or maybe it never existed in the first place."
CANTABILE
99136 78422 00b65
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
self (cont.)
I've been putting too much of 'me' into Reese lately. I'm sure she doesn't know. I'd like to keep it that way, but she'll find out eventually. I'm so ashamed.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
PARADE!
Been listening to the parade song from Paprika on loop all weekend, and I don't plan on stopping any time soon.
Oh god.
Finished SCIENCE!!! work, now to.. get to disc 2 of Symphonia... oh I'm so close...
And I need to talk to Jason about LATIN!!! work, and Marion about ALTERNATE PERSPECTIVES IN UNITED STATES HISTORY!!! work. Hm hmm!
Oh god.
Finished SCIENCE!!! work, now to.. get to disc 2 of Symphonia... oh I'm so close...
And I need to talk to Jason about LATIN!!! work, and Marion about ALTERNATE PERSPECTIVES IN UNITED STATES HISTORY!!! work. Hm hmm!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
SKREEE
I AM SO EXCITED FOR TOMORROW AND THIS WEEKEND!
YOU HAVE NO IDEA.
Oh my god I can't wait asdskgfg.
There was an old man named Bobimbo (dun dun)
He was an angry yojimbo (dun dun)
But ask all around
His elegant sound
Is definitely his rapturous limbo (dun dun)
(I don't know, either!)
YOU HAVE NO IDEA.
Oh my god I can't wait asdskgfg.
There was an old man named Bobimbo (dun dun)
He was an angry yojimbo (dun dun)
But ask all around
His elegant sound
Is definitely his rapturous limbo (dun dun)
(I don't know, either!)
sszzt
when will I be out of this slump I thought it was a weeklong thing but it's seemed to have decided it wants to stay for a month or more
evermore
evermore
evermore
evermore
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
wherein the Augustine principle is discussed but never defined
To bring back the past is an unnecessary path in life, which we will see in our experiments. The child did not know this, of course, and looked to any means of reliving those long nights outside, alone beneath the stars- and there were plenty of stars back then- with only a wistful look and the dog- the true mother. It was here that Saline first met the child, chattering from upon a branch arching high above, her maw dripping (splat splat splat) and the dog took no notice, but she did curl about the child in the snow, as if to protect it from this thing that did not, as far as she was concerned, exist. The Word's true form is never remembered, and subsequently miscarried over time, but we can be sure that It was poisonous none-the-less, and detrimental to all that the child would experience from then on.
"got a lon-lon-long way to go, huh-huh-huh?? WIPE THAT SMIRK OFF YOUR face you know you wanna know you wanna know where to go but it ain't gonna be an E-A-S-Y thing, hahhhhh???"
The thing was never perfect, and her drone has only deteriorated through the years, her speech growing harsher, but one thing it lacks now that it had then was constant Pitch, and so the child knew it was not a thing to be feared, for it was honest and true like none other.
This is when we see the first discrepancies. The thing would perch up there all winter and well into summer, but come August it would fade, as that month was the month of its namesake, and She took it to reform the Cheshire. Saline's screams could be heard from within the walls, and though the child could hear them, it did nothing- it feared August, as did all inhabitants of the house. So Saline grew to despise the child, more than she did already, for that was simply her nature. She would come when the child lay awake and gnaw at its fingers and toes, clawing its arms and leaving slightly mysterious bruises and scars which the child never had to explain, for no one cared in the least. March would sit with the child as she was accustomed, but she could do nothing to keep the Cheshire away, for she was beneath and had already known August's wrath.
The relationship between August and Saline is unpredictable at best. It is violent and lustful, as is the Saint's relationship with most members of the house (if not, indeed, all) yet She rebuilds Saline in an imperfect manner, with the mechanics never quite falling to Her usual sense. Saline hates the Saint, which is unusual in the house (even 12% could never hate August- it simply isn't possible), and August has neglected any attempt to fix this. She is excited by the cruel Cheshire, intrigued by her rabid screaming and flailing fistsclawsteethmouth. There are no rooms in the house Saline is forbidden from except for the Inner Sanction, which has never been confirmed as existing, so we may ignore that factor.
CANTABILE
99136 78422 00166
"got a lon-lon-long way to go, huh-huh-huh?? WIPE THAT SMIRK OFF YOUR face you know you wanna know you wanna know where to go but it ain't gonna be an E-A-S-Y thing, hahhhhh???"
The thing was never perfect, and her drone has only deteriorated through the years, her speech growing harsher, but one thing it lacks now that it had then was constant Pitch, and so the child knew it was not a thing to be feared, for it was honest and true like none other.
This is when we see the first discrepancies. The thing would perch up there all winter and well into summer, but come August it would fade, as that month was the month of its namesake, and She took it to reform the Cheshire. Saline's screams could be heard from within the walls, and though the child could hear them, it did nothing- it feared August, as did all inhabitants of the house. So Saline grew to despise the child, more than she did already, for that was simply her nature. She would come when the child lay awake and gnaw at its fingers and toes, clawing its arms and leaving slightly mysterious bruises and scars which the child never had to explain, for no one cared in the least. March would sit with the child as she was accustomed, but she could do nothing to keep the Cheshire away, for she was beneath and had already known August's wrath.
The relationship between August and Saline is unpredictable at best. It is violent and lustful, as is the Saint's relationship with most members of the house (if not, indeed, all) yet She rebuilds Saline in an imperfect manner, with the mechanics never quite falling to Her usual sense. Saline hates the Saint, which is unusual in the house (even 12% could never hate August- it simply isn't possible), and August has neglected any attempt to fix this. She is excited by the cruel Cheshire, intrigued by her rabid screaming and flailing fistsclawsteethmouth. There are no rooms in the house Saline is forbidden from except for the Inner Sanction, which has never been confirmed as existing, so we may ignore that factor.
CANTABILE
99136 78422 00166
Monday, April 27, 2009
hurggghghh
blipblipblip
I need somewhere to crash in like.. a week, for an indeterminate amount of time, with internet. How pathetic is it that I feel I cannot go for a month without (arguably) reliable internet? Oh.. dear...
I wish I knew what to do.
I need somewhere to crash in like.. a week, for an indeterminate amount of time, with internet. How pathetic is it that I feel I cannot go for a month without (arguably) reliable internet? Oh.. dear...
I wish I knew what to do.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
RAGE
OH MY GOD I NEED A NEW LAPTOP THIS IS JUST BULLSHIT
FFF
FFFFFFFFF
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
No, really.
FFF
FFFFFFFFF
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
No, really.
Monday, April 20, 2009
somewhere in between
Without blindness, there is no sight
You'd see further if you'd only close your eyes
In unconsciousness, I can find peace
Inside prison walls, I can find release
There is a place that I have seen
Somewhere between waking and sleeping
Down at the water's edge
Somebody waits for me
Is it to late for me?
It's never too late he says
(Without blindness (Without blindness))
(There is no sight (There is failure))
(You'd see further (People gather))
(If you'd (By the river))
(Close your eyes (They were talking))
(About the failure)
There is a place that I have seen
Somewhere between waking and sleeping
Leaning over the side
Trailing my fingertips
Feeling the water slip
Into the quiet night
Viewed from the wrong end of a telescope
I see myself, so far below
Still and silent, rest in peace
A thread unravels a merciful release
There is a place that I have seen
Somewhere between waking and sleeping
Now I can almost see
Figures upon the shore
He's gathering in the oars
Where are you taking me
- Air, Somewhere Between Waking and Sleeping
Interesting.
Oh my god I never knew Neil Hannon sung this! I love him so much... he sings Geronimo, Life on Mars, and Le Jours tristes, pretty sure I put at least one of those on your mix CD. Mmmmm.
You'd see further if you'd only close your eyes
In unconsciousness, I can find peace
Inside prison walls, I can find release
There is a place that I have seen
Somewhere between waking and sleeping
Down at the water's edge
Somebody waits for me
Is it to late for me?
It's never too late he says
(Without blindness (Without blindness))
(There is no sight (There is failure))
(You'd see further (People gather))
(If you'd (By the river))
(Close your eyes (They were talking))
(About the failure)
There is a place that I have seen
Somewhere between waking and sleeping
Leaning over the side
Trailing my fingertips
Feeling the water slip
Into the quiet night
Viewed from the wrong end of a telescope
I see myself, so far below
Still and silent, rest in peace
A thread unravels a merciful release
There is a place that I have seen
Somewhere between waking and sleeping
Now I can almost see
Figures upon the shore
He's gathering in the oars
Where are you taking me
- Air, Somewhere Between Waking and Sleeping
Interesting.
Oh my god I never knew Neil Hannon sung this! I love him so much... he sings Geronimo, Life on Mars, and Le Jours tristes, pretty sure I put at least one of those on your mix CD. Mmmmm.
ye olde childrene's storie
One day a young boy went for a walk to the local pond. Noticing a small tadpole in the pond, he cried out, for it shimmered and sparkled like none he had ever before seen. "Oh tadpole!" he exclaimed in his excitement, "However did you become so magnificent, even in your small form?" The tadpole wriggled, thinking a moment. "Good sir," it replied, "I do not know how I am this form, but it surely is not a blessing, for throughout the day I am pursued relentlessly by the heron and the large fish. It is truly a difficult life. Woe is me!" The boy listened to the tadpole's lament, and, feeling sorry for the creature, ran home quickly to pick up a small bowl. Upon returning to the pond, he immediately spotted the odd tadpole. "Quick, little tadpole, you must jump in here, and I shall bring you home and keep you safe from harm." So the tadpole leaped rather hurriedly into the bowl, which the boy had filled with water from the pond. "I am eternally indebted, good sir," it said with great relief. Together they went home, and became fast friends. However, the boy noticed that the tadpole was growing quite large, and he was concerned. "Dear tadpole, what if you outgrow your bowl?" he asked. "I suppose I shall need a larger one, then," the tadpole replied thoughtfully. The boy looked all over the house, high and low, until he found a large wash basin. "Quick, little tadpole, you must jump in here, or else you could become constricted in your small bowl!" So the tadpole leaped into the wash basin rather clumsily. As it did so, the boy noticed for the first time that it had become less iridescent, and he lamented. "Dear tadpole, are you ill? You do not shine as you once did, and you move so slowly." The tadpole swam about, pondering what the boy had said. "No, I do not believe I am ill," it said at length, "for I have my good friend to take care of me. Do not fret." So the boy did not say any more on the subject, though as the weeks went on he became more and more worried by the lethargy of his friend. One day, he found his poor little tadpole floating at the top of the washbasin, breathing very shallowly. "Oh my dear friend!" he cried out, "I have been taking the worst of care of you, and now you are dying!" He began to cry, but the tadpole wiggled feebly. "No, my best of friends," it said quietly, "You have given me life, but there are times when even the greatest care proves fruitless. I was doomed from the start, with this peculiar body." The boy cried at the fatalistic comment from the tadpole, and when his tears fell into the water a miraculous thing happened. The tadpole grew limbs, not of a frog but of a boy, and sprouted hair upon his head. Before long, the boy was looking at another boy, one he had never met yet knew quite well. "Dear tadpole!" he exclaimed, "You are all right!" The tadpole- now a boy- nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shining as his body once had. "You have done a marvelous thing!" he said with fervor, "And now I have been reborn! Together we may live life, from our first loves to our old age. It is all because of your kindness!" And so the two friends lived a long life, each always helping the other in his time of need, and when finally they passed away they were truly happy.
THE END
oh my god that was so horrible
YE OLDE FOLKTALE
Once there was a man who lived with his family in a small mountain town. One day, while sitting by a small brook in the forest, he came upon an injured wolf. It was larger than any he had ever before seen, and it spoke to him in a weary tone. “O good sir,” it said, “I have been stricken by the arrows of men, and I have none to help me. If you find it in your heart the kindness to set me well, I shall repay you one hundredfold.” The man listened to the beast in silence. It was large enough to feed and cloth his entire family for nigh on a year, and the claws of a wolf would fetch a high price in the market he thought greedily. “I am sorry, wolf,” he said at last, “but you see I have a family of my own, and besides, how should I know that you would not murder us in our sleep?” So speaking, he butchered the animal, and called his family to help him carry the remnants of the animal home. That night, as he lay in the warmth of the beast’s fur, his stomach full, he heard a peculiar noise from outside. Taking his lantern, he went to investigate, and to his horror was met by the hulking skeleton of the wolf, its bones glistening in the moonlight. “O good sir,” it rasped, “I did meet you in ill health, and you took my life without so much as a thought. For your greed, I condemn you to the life of a monster, and your family will be the ones who hunt you.” With that, the cadaver vanished. The man laughed, thinking it only a dream, and returned to his hut. As he lay his head down, he felt a strange stirring in his hands, and looked with astonishment at his hands, which had grown long claws and shaggy fur. He cried out in terror, but the noise which came from his mouth was that of a savage animal, and he felt sharp teeth replace his own. The noise he made had woken his oldest son, who grabbed a pole and stabbed at the animal. Fleeing the house, the man found he was no longer a man at all, but entirely creature. With one last mournful look at his home, he ran far away, deep into the forests, to live amongst his kin and be hunted like all beasts.
THE END
oh my god that was so horrible
YE OLDE FOLKTALE
Once there was a man who lived with his family in a small mountain town. One day, while sitting by a small brook in the forest, he came upon an injured wolf. It was larger than any he had ever before seen, and it spoke to him in a weary tone. “O good sir,” it said, “I have been stricken by the arrows of men, and I have none to help me. If you find it in your heart the kindness to set me well, I shall repay you one hundredfold.” The man listened to the beast in silence. It was large enough to feed and cloth his entire family for nigh on a year, and the claws of a wolf would fetch a high price in the market he thought greedily. “I am sorry, wolf,” he said at last, “but you see I have a family of my own, and besides, how should I know that you would not murder us in our sleep?” So speaking, he butchered the animal, and called his family to help him carry the remnants of the animal home. That night, as he lay in the warmth of the beast’s fur, his stomach full, he heard a peculiar noise from outside. Taking his lantern, he went to investigate, and to his horror was met by the hulking skeleton of the wolf, its bones glistening in the moonlight. “O good sir,” it rasped, “I did meet you in ill health, and you took my life without so much as a thought. For your greed, I condemn you to the life of a monster, and your family will be the ones who hunt you.” With that, the cadaver vanished. The man laughed, thinking it only a dream, and returned to his hut. As he lay his head down, he felt a strange stirring in his hands, and looked with astonishment at his hands, which had grown long claws and shaggy fur. He cried out in terror, but the noise which came from his mouth was that of a savage animal, and he felt sharp teeth replace his own. The noise he made had woken his oldest son, who grabbed a pole and stabbed at the animal. Fleeing the house, the man found he was no longer a man at all, but entirely creature. With one last mournful look at his home, he ran far away, deep into the forests, to live amongst his kin and be hunted like all beasts.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
musings
Yet I will be the one who ends up alone, in the end, because I only push people away. I don't want the attention of another.
hm hm hm
I think that's true.
This happens sometimes. I don't want to sleep, I don't want to dream. Whatever.
I guess I dream about things that've happened and what may happen and what will never happen, the usual stuff, but never enjoyable in waking.
hm hm hm
I think that's true.
This happens sometimes. I don't want to sleep, I don't want to dream. Whatever.
I guess I dream about things that've happened and what may happen and what will never happen, the usual stuff, but never enjoyable in waking.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
wat iz dis
Sometimes when I finally learn something on piano it makes me feel so goddamn good. I can't play anything particularly well, but finishing something I've been working on makes me-- dare I say!-- vaguely proud. Not in the sense of OH MAN GUYS LISTEN TO ME I'M THE NEXT CHOPIN ^___^, since I know I can't play it well at all... but eh >_> It's fun when no one else is there AHAHA self conscious ffff
Sometimes when I finally learn something on piano it makes me feel so goddamn good. I can't play anything particularly well, but finishing something I've been working on makes me-- dare I say!-- vaguely proud. Not in the sense of OH MAN GUYS LISTEN TO ME I'M THE NEXT CHOPIN ^___^, since I know I can't play it well at all... but eh >_> It's fun when no one else is there AHAHA self conscious ffff
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
WHY
WHY WON'T ANYONE HANG OUT WITH ME
I'M NOT THAT UNLIKEABLE
... AM I???
capslock cruise control cool etc
... You know, I say this now, but once I actually hang out with someone I'm going to get bored/irritated instantly. orz
I'M NOT THAT UNLIKEABLE
... AM I???
capslock cruise control cool etc
... You know, I say this now, but once I actually hang out with someone I'm going to get bored/irritated instantly. orz
Monday, April 13, 2009
BORED BORED BOARD
AHHHH
THERE IS NOTHING TO DO I AM GOING TO END UP WASTING MY SPRING BREAK DOING FUCK ALL
AHHHH!!
Well, I'm writing, but that's going slowly. Sloowwwlllyy.
At least maybe I'll buy my plane ticket soon, after selling a few organs and whoring myself out. Awesome.
Oh hell, if it rains tomorrow I'm going up to Hill cemetary. (so I don't actually know what it's called, but you know--) Hurr hurr. I really wish I could go to some old church or cathedral, but alas, we.. don't have those in AMERICA. I would literally murder someone to go see the cathedral in Nantes. >_>
THERE IS NOTHING TO DO I AM GOING TO END UP WASTING MY SPRING BREAK DOING FUCK ALL
AHHHH!!
Well, I'm writing, but that's going slowly. Sloowwwlllyy.
At least maybe I'll buy my plane ticket soon, after selling a few organs and whoring myself out. Awesome.
Oh hell, if it rains tomorrow I'm going up to Hill cemetary. (so I don't actually know what it's called, but you know--) Hurr hurr. I really wish I could go to some old church or cathedral, but alas, we.. don't have those in AMERICA. I would literally murder someone to go see the cathedral in Nantes. >_>
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
good mood?!
WAT
WAAAT
I'm in a relatively good mood! I felt like shit all day until I got home, and now I feel pretty good. Shocking, I know.
I haven't slept all weekend, and I've felt like a total dolt, but it's okay because hopefully by tomorrow I'll be less stupid and able to use English properly! Goddamn I suck.
BUT, YOU KNOW
YOU KNOWWWW
I can't stop saying that, dear gawd.
askfds I want to go to England and have a picnic with Are right now. :[ So bad... Of course, by picnic I'd probably mean sitting in a room eating baguette and taramosalata because it's like 9 and there's no way we'd bike all the way to the park--
Well, we might.
WAAAT
I'm in a relatively good mood! I felt like shit all day until I got home, and now I feel pretty good. Shocking, I know.
I haven't slept all weekend, and I've felt like a total dolt, but it's okay because hopefully by tomorrow I'll be less stupid and able to use English properly! Goddamn I suck.
BUT, YOU KNOW
YOU KNOWWWW
I can't stop saying that, dear gawd.
askfds I want to go to England and have a picnic with Are right now. :[ So bad... Of course, by picnic I'd probably mean sitting in a room eating baguette and taramosalata because it's like 9 and there's no way we'd bike all the way to the park--
Well, we might.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Told my dad I hate him and Claire. A lot. .. Because they were having some huge shit fest.
And he just goes off on how I'm just huffy and in a bad mood blah blah blah YOU KNOW IT ISN'T TRUE YOU STILL LOVE US
yeeeeah
no.
I've hated both of you for a long, long time.
Between him and my mother I've pretty much lost any love towards them. Sure, my mom can pull fucking psychological bullshit, but I've just.. hated my dad for as long as I can remember. He left me, and while I'm sure he thinks he's a great father, I dream of hurting him in the worst ways possible.
Hey! But look at me now! I'm your huge disappointment, and I'll just keep disappointing you. I don't give a fuck! HAHA!
Really, all that gets me now is how annoying this whole family is.
Oh, and he's known that I have never enjoyed being touched. My whole life I've shied away from any physical contact, he knows I hate it and that I cringe (hell, it's partially his fault in the first place) but he always tries to hug me/pat me on the shoulder (and by pat I mean grip my shoulder and slap my back, fucking hurts) and so I shoved him off. "Don't touch me, you know I hate it" and then he says I'm just being rude for no reason. No, no dad there is reason and it's not rude when you're the one violating mywishes.
fucking shit saline wants it to g-g-g-go d-d-dooownnnn
And he just goes off on how I'm just huffy and in a bad mood blah blah blah YOU KNOW IT ISN'T TRUE YOU STILL LOVE US
yeeeeah
no.
I've hated both of you for a long, long time.
Between him and my mother I've pretty much lost any love towards them. Sure, my mom can pull fucking psychological bullshit, but I've just.. hated my dad for as long as I can remember. He left me, and while I'm sure he thinks he's a great father, I dream of hurting him in the worst ways possible.
Hey! But look at me now! I'm your huge disappointment, and I'll just keep disappointing you. I don't give a fuck! HAHA!
Really, all that gets me now is how annoying this whole family is.
Oh, and he's known that I have never enjoyed being touched. My whole life I've shied away from any physical contact, he knows I hate it and that I cringe (hell, it's partially his fault in the first place) but he always tries to hug me/pat me on the shoulder (and by pat I mean grip my shoulder and slap my back, fucking hurts) and so I shoved him off. "Don't touch me, you know I hate it" and then he says I'm just being rude for no reason. No, no dad there is reason and it's not rude when you're the one violating mywishes.
fucking shit saline wants it to g-g-g-go d-d-dooownnnn
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Mavri Thalassa kom ne vellier-- surul skulla
Auss Apollnia inter Targul Strata
Auf nenvugen niel danke
[gibberish]
Skribble ibid am svenal
Apollonia[error in die uber] kossael
Meselph in kontemporarie kallas
Liem die Lemnos kuare inter Auschwitz
Auph auf nasser geboetten das das
Kontemporarie Berlin in meine spiegel
Der spiegel oph mieer kosenchinknoedel
March und August und Atti und Saline und--
---
This is horrible when Anglicized. Um um, made-up gibberish, some Greek, Latin and German in there, but really just shit I made up. It.. has meaning, just moreso with my made up alphabet. Yeahh. What.
Auss Apollnia inter Targul Strata
Auf nenvugen niel danke
[gibberish]
Skribble ibid am svenal
Apollonia[error in die uber] kossael
Meselph in kontemporarie kallas
Liem die Lemnos kuare inter Auschwitz
Auph auf nasser geboetten das das
Kontemporarie Berlin in meine spiegel
Der spiegel oph mieer kosenchinknoedel
March und August und Atti und Saline und--
---
This is horrible when Anglicized. Um um, made-up gibberish, some Greek, Latin and German in there, but really just shit I made up. It.. has meaning, just moreso with my made up alphabet. Yeahh. What.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
no one here
just
m
e
.
---
I've been sitting here with this page up because it's nice and dark and I never want to sleep again. Kankubeinze Saline tearing through my gut in her usual rampageoh i thought this was over[it'sneverover] and then we're scrimmaging again and what's more oh March
oh March
your paperdust tears bring no warrant of mention in the times when August rules, nominative genitive declension three and we're all here waiting for her eyes cast up in a systematic approach to entropywhich
in theory
isn't reliable[bubububutalwaysknowyouknowknowknownonono]-ledge to land upon in times as these we're never too alone but all too familiar with it.
I am alone[lypersonbynature].
m
e
.
---
I've been sitting here with this page up because it's nice and dark and I never want to sleep again. Kankubeinze Saline tearing through my gut in her usual rampageoh i thought this was over[it'sneverover] and then we're scrimmaging again and what's more oh March
oh March
your paperdust tears bring no warrant of mention in the times when August rules, nominative genitive declension three and we're all here waiting for her eyes cast up in a systematic approach to entropywhich
in theory
isn't reliable[bubububutalwaysknowyouknowknowknownonono]-ledge to land upon in times as these we're never too alone but all too familiar with it.
I am alone[lypersonbynature].
Saturday, March 28, 2009
romantic views from an apathetic asexual
So, I've decided that listening to Beirut while walking around is very, very deadly to my Self.
But only their good music i.e.: not the recent double EP. While I enjoy a few songs off of it, I just don't get the emotional surge I get from their older albums. Views of the east Carpathians mingling with the feeling of my body floating down the Rhine... we travel years to get this far. Ahh.
THIS THIS THIS http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mu73fNsCeno
The backup vocals, even the slight issue in quality, the sound of screams as they pull St. Apollonia's teeth one by one from her mouth, her eyes wide in the terror yet she accepts her fate with such dignity and grace that her bloodied maw is reminiscent of wine rather than the torn and tattered face of a young girl and I--
was never there for her in the first place, what would I know?
---
Mount Wroclai haunts me in dream and waking. I can feel the dreary tape recorder as it echoes back last night's terrors and in this I know reality from truth, for in the walls we live there is never a True so much as a What-Once-Was, which in turn is not true at all. The mountain we have become infatuated with never existed outside of the mural in our old farmhouse, and without this painting it would never have been at all. Rain rain rain upon the windowpane and I can only sit and listen listen! as they whisper from beneath the floorboards, the ones who I have forgotten as time grows old in the clock's weary face. Tic toc toc toc...
And I know winter will pass by slow
Without my heart what can I do...
In the halls a bell gives way to a larger swell
Without my heart what can I do...
Mount Wroclai
Mount Wroclai
Mount Wroclai
Mount Wroclai
And we grow fat on the charms of our idle dreary days
Seen the shadows grow, See an ominous display
With no alarm, couldn't say we had expected this way
Our desires have died, give incent to play
Mount Wroclai
Mount Wroclai
Mount Wroclai
Mount Wroclai
Mount Wroclai
But only their good music i.e.: not the recent double EP. While I enjoy a few songs off of it, I just don't get the emotional surge I get from their older albums. Views of the east Carpathians mingling with the feeling of my body floating down the Rhine... we travel years to get this far. Ahh.
THIS THIS THIS http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mu73fNsCeno
The backup vocals, even the slight issue in quality, the sound of screams as they pull St. Apollonia's teeth one by one from her mouth, her eyes wide in the terror yet she accepts her fate with such dignity and grace that her bloodied maw is reminiscent of wine rather than the torn and tattered face of a young girl and I--
was never there for her in the first place, what would I know?
---
Mount Wroclai haunts me in dream and waking. I can feel the dreary tape recorder as it echoes back last night's terrors and in this I know reality from truth, for in the walls we live there is never a True so much as a What-Once-Was, which in turn is not true at all. The mountain we have become infatuated with never existed outside of the mural in our old farmhouse, and without this painting it would never have been at all. Rain rain rain upon the windowpane and I can only sit and listen listen! as they whisper from beneath the floorboards, the ones who I have forgotten as time grows old in the clock's weary face. Tic toc toc toc...
And I know winter will pass by slow
Without my heart what can I do...
In the halls a bell gives way to a larger swell
Without my heart what can I do...
Mount Wroclai
Mount Wroclai
Mount Wroclai
Mount Wroclai
And we grow fat on the charms of our idle dreary days
Seen the shadows grow, See an ominous display
With no alarm, couldn't say we had expected this way
Our desires have died, give incent to play
Mount Wroclai
Mount Wroclai
Mount Wroclai
Mount Wroclai
Mount Wroclai
askdf
It's my best friend's birthday, and what did I get her? A huge box of shit that won't arrive until next week, and a drawing I'll never finish.
I AM SUCH A GREAT FRIEND RITE.
RITE????
I AM SUCH A GREAT FRIEND RITE.
RITE????
Friday, March 27, 2009
(not such)deep dark secrets[now with a word from Sufjan]
I have plenty, but what about you?
is what they ask me.
---
Something's suddenly unclear
Someone's suddenly my fear
My eyes demand like broken eaves
The ladle overspills on eaves
If you once knew
How I loved you
And my bruise-colored eyes peal
Every image to your face and heel
And if you're happy, I am too
And if you're sleeping, I'm with you
But you love someone else
But you want to be with someone else
And I can't believe how dumb I sound
And I will put my face over the ground
And love you
is what they ask me.
---
Something's suddenly unclear
Someone's suddenly my fear
My eyes demand like broken eaves
The ladle overspills on eaves
If you once knew
How I loved you
And my bruise-colored eyes peal
Every image to your face and heel
And if you're happy, I am too
And if you're sleeping, I'm with you
But you love someone else
But you want to be with someone else
And I can't believe how dumb I sound
And I will put my face over the ground
And love you
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
the black sea
AUGUST
It was August all along
Oh Saline, Saline, those stitches left a nasty mark, but no one could shut you up, huh huh huh?
Was it Atti? Music girl's temptation leaving you lusty and you know you ca-ca-can't resist and it is of course
why
they stitched your mouth shut. I'm sorry, I've been away so long, but photos of August brought me back, so here I am and here we are
aren't you proud of me?
It was August all along
Oh Saline, Saline, those stitches left a nasty mark, but no one could shut you up, huh huh huh?
Was it Atti? Music girl's temptation leaving you lusty and you know you ca-ca-can't resist and it is of course
why
they stitched your mouth shut. I'm sorry, I've been away so long, but photos of August brought me back, so here I am and here we are
aren't you proud of me?
why's the party always gotta be on-
-s-s-s-sunday
I don't know why, but I always feel like I've let her down.
[ithinkeveryonehatesme(justcuzi-)hatemyself]
I don't know why, but I always feel like I've let her down.
[ithinkeveryonehatesme(justcuzi-)hatemyself]
Friday, March 13, 2009
self deprecation
I just want to be sick stammering uncontrollable and effortlessly ill, and in the time it takes to realize these things you're all gone
Because I'm sick stammering uncontrollable but the effort in my illness is less sweet than I'd have you believe
Because I'm never satiated never happy never never ever please and if I am it's not really something truly believable
Infatuation which drives me mad and drives her to the arms of every man every woman every boy girl boy and when I'm mad it's all over it was really nothing
Nothing at all
Because I'm always the one told to stay to remain as the world goes to pure entropy around me
Because nothing ever matters when you're living on cardboard cutouts handouts selling yourself your selves to live
You can't live on the streets when they've all been decimated
This was all brought on by pictures of someone I knew and no one I was.
I am so fat.
Because I'm sick stammering uncontrollable but the effort in my illness is less sweet than I'd have you believe
Because I'm never satiated never happy never never ever please and if I am it's not really something truly believable
Infatuation which drives me mad and drives her to the arms of every man every woman every boy girl boy and when I'm mad it's all over it was really nothing
Nothing at all
Because I'm always the one told to stay to remain as the world goes to pure entropy around me
Because nothing ever matters when you're living on cardboard cutouts handouts selling yourself your selves to live
You can't live on the streets when they've all been decimated
This was all brought on by pictures of someone I knew and no one I was.
I am so fat.
Monday, March 9, 2009
so in the few minutes i've been awake my dad has decided to yell at me for the tone of my voice. Wh-... what? I went downstairs and said "so I guess you already went to the store?" because.. yeah, I took a nap and sort of.. expected that he'd wake me up to ask what i'd like for dinner. He almost flips out and starts saying I'm too accusatory, going "you hole yourself up in your room and don't hear me come home, don't expect me to know YOU'RE home!" (I never, ever fucking go out, wat) and... just general bullshit. So I say I was just wondering, since it's, you know, 7, and he usually wakes me up when I nap to yell at me for napping. So he asks if I want a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner, I JUST say "no, thank you" and he fucking throws a FIT. He hits something and goes on about how negative I am and the tone of my voice and just
JESUS
FUCKING
CHRIST
I REALLY DIDN'T DO ANYTHING OTHER THAN WHAT I SAID
JESUS
FUCKING
CHRIST
I REALLY DIDN'T DO ANYTHING OTHER THAN WHAT I SAID
Sunday, March 8, 2009
indulgence
note to self; markers for Emma, tomorrow
Emma, you really need to remind me too
god i am so gone, just mentally out, no I won't have this comic done by tomorrow, yes I will no-no-n-n-n-o I will not. Yes I will. I will do it.
I WANNA I WANNA I WANNA I WANNA I WANNA I WANNA CALL C-C-C-CALL
Y-O-U
no not you
god i should just go get pissed out of my mind because i sure am acting it already just get it done
Emma, you really need to remind me too
god i am so gone, just mentally out, no I won't have this comic done by tomorrow, yes I will no-no-n-n-n-o I will not. Yes I will. I will do it.
I WANNA I WANNA I WANNA I WANNA I WANNA I WANNA CALL C-C-C-CALL
Y-O-U
no not you
god i should just go get pissed out of my mind because i sure am acting it already just get it done
Saturday, March 7, 2009
petulance
There was a storm in the house, but the inhabitants never noticed the walls shaking. All they could do was sit there as torrential rain tore through the plaster, flooding even the upper floors. It was their daily routine to endure the deluge, the tepid waters churning around and within them.
This was never the right time. No concept of time could penetrate the murky depths as slowly, steadily, they plunged into the abyss, never to be seen again.
Sometimes we still hear them from the well.
This was never the right time. No concept of time could penetrate the murky depths as slowly, steadily, they plunged into the abyss, never to be seen again.
Sometimes we still hear them from the well.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Not really emo, but not really happy either. Horribly obvious lack of interest in people which permeates my horrible speech like some horrible bile from my horrible throat. I don't like living in the Bronze Age even though the future promises only cataclysms foreseen by labradors, but going back to the shores from which we springsprungsprang is just as ridiculous. What am I saying, I don't care anymore.
I'm
very
tired.
I keep getting these weird chest pains out of nowhere. Are dared me to eat a whole thing of wasabi the last night she was here, no big deal, I've done it before, but something was wrong with this particular glob and I got some really bad stomach/chest pains, couldn't move very well for about half an hour because of how much it hurt. I don't think this is in any way related to that, but the pains are similar, left half of my chest just red hot hurt. I don't know, maybe I'm just being melodramatic. It's really just annoying, nothing else.
I hate my dad and hope he dies soon. I really, really do. I can move out in a year so wtf,r. Fucking school.
I'm
very
tired.
I keep getting these weird chest pains out of nowhere. Are dared me to eat a whole thing of wasabi the last night she was here, no big deal, I've done it before, but something was wrong with this particular glob and I got some really bad stomach/chest pains, couldn't move very well for about half an hour because of how much it hurt. I don't think this is in any way related to that, but the pains are similar, left half of my chest just red hot hurt. I don't know, maybe I'm just being melodramatic. It's really just annoying, nothing else.
I hate my dad and hope he dies soon. I really, really do. I can move out in a year so wtf,r. Fucking school.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
lebanese time tables
You know, I don't quite get why I feel so lonely. I know it's only about four more months, and I can always talk to her online, but-
-it's still lonely.
-it's still lonely.
Monday, February 23, 2009
contagious
really no meaning
sloppy scraps strewn on the floor
i broke the plate
---
Scrawled on a shred of purple paper with no intentions, not quite haiku and not quite important, but of some significance nonetheless. Reaching across a void sometimes proves fruitful.
In any case, I'm sick. Nose, throat, this is horrible.
sloppy scraps strewn on the floor
i broke the plate
---
Scrawled on a shred of purple paper with no intentions, not quite haiku and not quite important, but of some significance nonetheless. Reaching across a void sometimes proves fruitful.
In any case, I'm sick. Nose, throat, this is horrible.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
clockwork
tic
toc
toc
toc
Intricate vitality. I am a wor[l]dslayer, come for your clocks and your home items, any strainers you previously thought detestable I find delectable. Send two by two by four times none boxes of junk and fishing rods and I'll give you a fist of coins to do your laundry.
Meager wages aren't really something to be taken for granted when living on cardboard.
toc
toc
toc
Intricate vitality. I am a wor[l]dslayer, come for your clocks and your home items, any strainers you previously thought detestable I find delectable. Send two by two by four times none boxes of junk and fishing rods and I'll give you a fist of coins to do your laundry.
Meager wages aren't really something to be taken for granted when living on cardboard.
Monday, February 16, 2009
tic toc toc
toc toc tic
I am procrastinating existentialism for the time being; however I would like to know why my dad insists on keeping cheeses and puddings which have long since expired (the goat cheese is a brick). Might I also add that with the amount he spends "fixing" the house (not to mention heating bills), he may as well buy a new one. I wouldn't mind living in an apartment if it had a working shower.
S.O.S.
... - - - ...
I need a place to crash, yo.
... - - - ...
I want to move away. I don't want Are to leave. I want want want want want don't want want don't want want want want
Pretty sure I said I was procrastinating existentialism. Bye!
I am procrastinating existentialism for the time being; however I would like to know why my dad insists on keeping cheeses and puddings which have long since expired (the goat cheese is a brick). Might I also add that with the amount he spends "fixing" the house (not to mention heating bills), he may as well buy a new one. I wouldn't mind living in an apartment if it had a working shower.
S.O.S.
... - - - ...
I need a place to crash, yo.
... - - - ...
I want to move away. I don't want Are to leave. I want want want want want don't want want don't want want want want
Pretty sure I said I was procrastinating existentialism. Bye!
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Roma Amor
Hmm, better, better, trying to finish some school work, but slacking off and writing incoherently about story shit on my other BLAWG.
Ahyuh, I dunno.
Ahyuh, I dunno.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
stumbling upon intricacies of human nature
I found my dad's diary today. Being a horrible, nosy person, I of course flipped through it. I'm not sure I can really talk about it. It's weird, really. I've known he doesn't really care much for me, but reading through this was awkward. Every page talks about Claire, Natasha, work, his dreams.. I'm mentioned perhaps three times in fifty or so pages. An example? "She seems like such a sourpuss lately; she is mean, rude, surly..." Hah. How true.
I don't really know how to explain how I feel about this.
I don't really know how to explain how I feel about this.
Friday, January 16, 2009
babble babble babble babble
Babble babble babble babbel Babel Babel Babel Bible Bible Bible Biblical Biblical bibliography bibliography xylophone anagram Tutankhamun tintinnabulation obligatory esoteric quadratic Tetragrammaton Ophelia sanction textiles raids disobedience radiant omniscient haemophilia introvert tranquility
I HAD A RANT BUT IT WAS ABOUT ~*~Aquaman~*~ SO NO, NO SIR.
F DAT SHIT RITE
\
My mouth tastes like shit and garlic so I washed it out with toothpaste. MMMMM.
I HAD A RANT BUT IT WAS ABOUT ~*~Aquaman~*~ SO NO, NO SIR.
F DAT SHIT RITE
\
My mouth tastes like shit and garlic so I washed it out with toothpaste. MMMMM.
Friday, January 9, 2009
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