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
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!
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