Certainly has been a while, bloggy blog. Did you miss me? Good blog. you better have missed me.
you better have...
I'm writing this on possibly one of the rainiest days of the year, considering its the end of the year that statement isn't so far-fetched. the birds are having trouble flying in this gale and torrent. Quite miserable. My sister has left for san antonio, and I am here taking care of the house. Lucky me. Thank fully, i have DND to occupy me, so I won't be too terribly bored. Yay.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Just a touch is not enough.
I type this from the seat of power in the fallen land of America. Lies and slander! I can't write a story tonight. instead, i will write about what has been happening in my life. Because that's so much more interesting.
I'm actually typing this on my netbook because my main rig (aka archforb_ is broken. I fucked up the boot manager and now she's pissed at me with a capital PISS.
I'm actually typing this on my netbook because my main rig (aka archforb_ is broken. I fucked up the boot manager and now she's pissed at me with a capital PISS.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Where is my Mind?
As I sit in this dismal library pondering the universe, my leg bounces uncontrollably, unceasingly, careless to those around who might be bothered by such jaunting. I have yet to figure out half of the things i can do on this laptop, I realize as I ponder the universe, and my webcam is probably the biggest one. I still, to this day, have no idea how to turn this little fucker on.
Edit: I found out how to turn it on. there's a button right above my f4 key. Has a little picture of a man on it. Go figure.
Anyway, what's new.
Nothing except getting ALL A'S IN SCHOOL BITCH MOTHA FUCKAS!
Edit: I found out how to turn it on. there's a button right above my f4 key. Has a little picture of a man on it. Go figure.
Anyway, what's new.
Nothing except getting ALL A'S IN SCHOOL BITCH MOTHA FUCKAS!
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Surely I could leave here on my own
But with these hands I've sewn
My way into a corner.
This isn't going to be easy
But resistance is necessary
Hacked this far into a corner.
dearly beloved,
we are gathered here today to witness the death of art, the destruction of mayhem, and the crescendo of a night worth living.
We were raised in the era of power rangers and barney, when marijuana killed and crack was breaking your mother's back. They spoonfed us gerber life insurance, and we happily ate our happy meals, all for the prize inside. We lost our virginity to tv, and lost tv to the internet. And while all the jacks were jumping in PE, we stood on the sidelines,or went running laps and taking our sweet time.
While you were in study hall, doing the obvious, we were
whistling here, whistling there, standing around the backside of the school, waiting for the buses to leave.
But with these hands I've sewn
My way into a corner.
This isn't going to be easy
But resistance is necessary
Hacked this far into a corner.
dearly beloved,
we are gathered here today to witness the death of art, the destruction of mayhem, and the crescendo of a night worth living.
We were raised in the era of power rangers and barney, when marijuana killed and crack was breaking your mother's back. They spoonfed us gerber life insurance, and we happily ate our happy meals, all for the prize inside. We lost our virginity to tv, and lost tv to the internet. And while all the jacks were jumping in PE, we stood on the sidelines,or went running laps and taking our sweet time.
While you were in study hall, doing the obvious, we were
whistling here, whistling there, standing around the backside of the school, waiting for the buses to leave.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
favorable quotes:
"I, the miserable and the abandoned, am an abortion, to be spurned at, and kicked, and trampled on."-----Frankenstein
"The talk of the ignorant is like the rumblings which issue from the belly."-----Demetrius the Cynic
"I have long believed that the damaged and the crazy are the ones best equiped to make a difference."-----Toy Soldier Roman
"LOVE AND PEACE!"---Vash the Stampede
"Don't pray in my school and I won't think in your church"---anonymous
"Life is a long hallway that ends in a door, and suicide is a hole in the wall."--Me
"You fucking cunt..."---me on several occasions.
"I'm a lvl 25 neutral Drow Ranger/Monk with intelligent guns of opposite alignment and the soul of a kluricher and 3 liches in the pocket of my +10 gold dragonscale armor. Bite Me."----me
"I get an idea, and when it doesn't explain everything in the first minute, I panic. I must be going crazy."--- I am Legend.
"Sex was fast losing its meaning without the endless prodding of mass hypnosis"--- I am Legend
"In your world you can take a pen and write on a piece of paper and destroy 200,000 people or more and its ok because you don't have to see it..."---Charles Manson
"Like Gulliver returning from the logical horses, I find the human smell offensive"--- I am Legend
"The darkest souls are not those which choose to exist within the hell of the abyss, but those which choose to break free from the abyss and move silently among us"---Dr. Samuel Loomis
"Make yourself the most terrifying, horrific thing in the entire world. Then you will have nothing to fear but yourself."---Myself
"He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man."---Dr. Johnson
"I am the darkness that perceives the Night,"---Saul Williams, Children of Night
"I don't have a problem with religion. What I have a problem with is religion posing as science. If there is a god and he's intelligent, then I would guess he has a sense of humor."---Bobby Henderson
"The puddle is certain that the hole in the ground it occupies must have been designed specifically for it because it fits him so well. The puddle exists under the sun until it has entirely evaporated."---Douglas Adams
"Truth is here"; this phrase means, wherever it is uttered: the priest lies."----Nietzsche
"With all the debates about whether or not God is dead, if he isn't he had better have medicare!"----Anton Szandor LaVey
"So let me get this straight. I accidentally killed a kluricher, aka Satan's worst nightmare, and you're sending me to an eternal empty gray waste dimension... do i still get the exp?"----Me playing Dungeons and Dragons.
"that is the most badass thing since ass got bad!"----me, commenting on one of j.m.'s drawings
"Everything is awesome. Fundamentally"----Shmeckler
"I, the miserable and the abandoned, am an abortion, to be spurned at, and kicked, and trampled on."-----Frankenstein
"The talk of the ignorant is like the rumblings which issue from the belly."-----Demetrius the Cynic
"I have long believed that the damaged and the crazy are the ones best equiped to make a difference."-----Toy Soldier Roman
"LOVE AND PEACE!"---Vash the Stampede
"Don't pray in my school and I won't think in your church"---anonymous
"Life is a long hallway that ends in a door, and suicide is a hole in the wall."--Me
"You fucking cunt..."---me on several occasions.
"I'm a lvl 25 neutral Drow Ranger/Monk with intelligent guns of opposite alignment and the soul of a kluricher and 3 liches in the pocket of my +10 gold dragonscale armor. Bite Me."----me
"I get an idea, and when it doesn't explain everything in the first minute, I panic. I must be going crazy."--- I am Legend.
"Sex was fast losing its meaning without the endless prodding of mass hypnosis"--- I am Legend
"In your world you can take a pen and write on a piece of paper and destroy 200,000 people or more and its ok because you don't have to see it..."---Charles Manson
"Like Gulliver returning from the logical horses, I find the human smell offensive"--- I am Legend
"The darkest souls are not those which choose to exist within the hell of the abyss, but those which choose to break free from the abyss and move silently among us"---Dr. Samuel Loomis
"Make yourself the most terrifying, horrific thing in the entire world. Then you will have nothing to fear but yourself."---Myself
"He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man."---Dr. Johnson
"I am the darkness that perceives the Night,"---Saul Williams, Children of Night
"I don't have a problem with religion. What I have a problem with is religion posing as science. If there is a god and he's intelligent, then I would guess he has a sense of humor."---Bobby Henderson
"The puddle is certain that the hole in the ground it occupies must have been designed specifically for it because it fits him so well. The puddle exists under the sun until it has entirely evaporated."---Douglas Adams
"Truth is here"; this phrase means, wherever it is uttered: the priest lies."----Nietzsche
"With all the debates about whether or not God is dead, if he isn't he had better have medicare!"----Anton Szandor LaVey
"So let me get this straight. I accidentally killed a kluricher, aka Satan's worst nightmare, and you're sending me to an eternal empty gray waste dimension... do i still get the exp?"----Me playing Dungeons and Dragons.
"that is the most badass thing since ass got bad!"----me, commenting on one of j.m.'s drawings
"Everything is awesome. Fundamentally"----Shmeckler
Friday, May 21, 2010
I Am
Searching the room with my eyes, resting upon the familiar sights I've come to base my reality upon: my shoes, my pants, my lighter, my headphones. All of these material things are my perspective, just like my memories build the virtual reality inside my head; this neuroscopic landscape just beneath my skull, with beautiful shards of stained glass clinging to the bare ribs of an old citadel window frame, completes the ideal vision of the inside of my head; although, I imagine there would be more blood as well.
And as I close my eyes, geometric patterns fill the void of my light-deprived orbs, and I see around me fractal elves dancing their silly little dances, beckoning me towards them with gifts of wisdom and enlightenment. Should I follow? Or should I stay behind, to play in the weight of the world. Would I miss my sister? my mother? my friends?
But before I can decide, I am awoken by the response to my question;
"We're made of science."
"What did I ask, again?"
"Why do we see geometric patterns when blood rushes to our heads."
"Oh, right. Makes sense..." I haphazardly convinced myself.
This sort of thing happens often. I ask a question, a fundamental aspect of life that few will ponder, and it receives a lame duck of a response for an answer.
I open my eyes and the walls are breathing, which prompts me to close my eyes once more. It is now that my eyes are jolted open once more, this time my ears filling with the sounds of electric eels with number pads. It is Mikson Cross, my best friend, and he has this to say;
"I am awake and feelin phresh."
"Swayt," I reply,"head on over."
And he does just that, post-haste. The thing to recognize with Mikson is his tenacity for audacity towards his goals, whatever they might be for the time that he decides to act. The next thing to recognize is his basis of life: terminatorology. This can be boiled down to Human Battery Method on a ten-scaled system. Basically, Mikson is a terminator, built to pwn.
As Mikson arrives, my other best friend, Ciara, ring-a-lings me, letting me know she is also on her way. When the three of us are within five feet of each other, we decide it is couch-talk time(this is the time in the party when we all recount our days and talk about things that annoy us). After couch-talk time, we climb out of our feathery doom of a sofa and manage to walk out the front door towards Mikson's house. Mikson lives over the mountains beyond my Cul de sac, which is about 100 yards away from my front door (the cul de sac, not the mountains; the mountains are much further away). With our sunshine in hand, we walk daintily, as ladies do, along the courtyard path, dodging mosquitoes and toads along the way. For me, it is an easy task to handle in the dark (did I mention it was night?), my eyes having already adjusted. I looked up and saw the most beautiful sky a night could offer. The city lights did all they could to silence the sparkling stars, but alas for the town, the stars shone through strong. And why shouldn't they? Are they not giant gas bulbs in space after all? My thoughts are interrupted by the conversation between the two friends who had walked somewhat ahead of me.
"I can get meth," Mikson mumbles.
"We should start a meth study buddy group," Ciara replies.
I race up to join them, only to find the discussion grossly beyond my interests; the discussion was misheard by yours truly. My friends were trying to find MATH, not METH. But with a little reorganization of my brain, I switch from artist to geek and we begin our now out-dated socratic triangle. As we pile into Mikson's Titan, Ciara pokes my shoulder.
"Myes?" I glance back at her, all the while fumbling with my iFuckYourWallet, trying to find the perfect song, only to realize I have no control over what music plays from my device. I can only turn it on, off, onto shuffle, or onto cycle, which is probably my least favorite, with off coming in at second.
"We should pick up a fairy book from my house. You'd really like it, and I've been meaning to show it to you," she whispers, her voice barely audible behind the torrent of technelectro.
Looking at Mikson as he climbs into the driver's seat, he nods and says, "I have no clue as to where you live. But yes, go we shall."
"You know where Soulistus' father lives?"
"Yes."
"My house is right across the street, more or less."
And so Mikson drives his Titanic Truck out and over the mountains, towards his residence, which incidentally rests upon the tallest of these mountains (by mountains I mean very very very slight and gentle hills. Isosceles hills, if you will). Meanwhile, Mikson and I decide to have a music war, where we each play a song we think the other hasn't heard. My part in this competition is somewhat vexed, as my iFuckYourWallet has no pause, play, next, previous, or buttons of any kind. In actuality, it has one switch with three positions (Off, Cycle, Shuffle), and a lever type clip on the back. I can also imagine there being some sort of spring involved in that lever, as it is quite, well, springy.
As phantoms engulf the sounds my ears can decipher, we arrive at Mikson's hold, where we depart from his truck and walk briskly through the enormous wrought-iron gate, adorned with space invaders and glass art. Keeping an eye on Cooly, Mikson's trusted A.D.D. wolf, we ease our way through the dangers and perils that lead towards shelter: a structure built by Mikson's own hands and blood, literally. Okay, not literally, but figuratively yes. And come to think of it, I'm almost certain Mikson spilt blood somewhere on that foundation, and I am certain that he used his hands to build it. So yes, literally.
We steal through the night, sweeping under the slow-dropping gate and into the salvation of the hold, making haste to shut the gate and door behind us.
May the devil take you in your slumber and rape you asunder!
And as I close my eyes, geometric patterns fill the void of my light-deprived orbs, and I see around me fractal elves dancing their silly little dances, beckoning me towards them with gifts of wisdom and enlightenment. Should I follow? Or should I stay behind, to play in the weight of the world. Would I miss my sister? my mother? my friends?
But before I can decide, I am awoken by the response to my question;
"We're made of science."
"What did I ask, again?"
"Why do we see geometric patterns when blood rushes to our heads."
"Oh, right. Makes sense..." I haphazardly convinced myself.
This sort of thing happens often. I ask a question, a fundamental aspect of life that few will ponder, and it receives a lame duck of a response for an answer.
I open my eyes and the walls are breathing, which prompts me to close my eyes once more. It is now that my eyes are jolted open once more, this time my ears filling with the sounds of electric eels with number pads. It is Mikson Cross, my best friend, and he has this to say;
"I am awake and feelin phresh."
"Swayt," I reply,"head on over."
And he does just that, post-haste. The thing to recognize with Mikson is his tenacity for audacity towards his goals, whatever they might be for the time that he decides to act. The next thing to recognize is his basis of life: terminatorology. This can be boiled down to Human Battery Method on a ten-scaled system. Basically, Mikson is a terminator, built to pwn.
As Mikson arrives, my other best friend, Ciara, ring-a-lings me, letting me know she is also on her way. When the three of us are within five feet of each other, we decide it is couch-talk time(this is the time in the party when we all recount our days and talk about things that annoy us). After couch-talk time, we climb out of our feathery doom of a sofa and manage to walk out the front door towards Mikson's house. Mikson lives over the mountains beyond my Cul de sac, which is about 100 yards away from my front door (the cul de sac, not the mountains; the mountains are much further away). With our sunshine in hand, we walk daintily, as ladies do, along the courtyard path, dodging mosquitoes and toads along the way. For me, it is an easy task to handle in the dark (did I mention it was night?), my eyes having already adjusted. I looked up and saw the most beautiful sky a night could offer. The city lights did all they could to silence the sparkling stars, but alas for the town, the stars shone through strong. And why shouldn't they? Are they not giant gas bulbs in space after all? My thoughts are interrupted by the conversation between the two friends who had walked somewhat ahead of me.
"I can get meth," Mikson mumbles.
"We should start a meth study buddy group," Ciara replies.
I race up to join them, only to find the discussion grossly beyond my interests; the discussion was misheard by yours truly. My friends were trying to find MATH, not METH. But with a little reorganization of my brain, I switch from artist to geek and we begin our now out-dated socratic triangle. As we pile into Mikson's Titan, Ciara pokes my shoulder.
"Myes?" I glance back at her, all the while fumbling with my iFuckYourWallet, trying to find the perfect song, only to realize I have no control over what music plays from my device. I can only turn it on, off, onto shuffle, or onto cycle, which is probably my least favorite, with off coming in at second.
"We should pick up a fairy book from my house. You'd really like it, and I've been meaning to show it to you," she whispers, her voice barely audible behind the torrent of technelectro.
Looking at Mikson as he climbs into the driver's seat, he nods and says, "I have no clue as to where you live. But yes, go we shall."
"You know where Soulistus' father lives?"
"Yes."
"My house is right across the street, more or less."
And so Mikson drives his Titanic Truck out and over the mountains, towards his residence, which incidentally rests upon the tallest of these mountains (by mountains I mean very very very slight and gentle hills. Isosceles hills, if you will). Meanwhile, Mikson and I decide to have a music war, where we each play a song we think the other hasn't heard. My part in this competition is somewhat vexed, as my iFuckYourWallet has no pause, play, next, previous, or buttons of any kind. In actuality, it has one switch with three positions (Off, Cycle, Shuffle), and a lever type clip on the back. I can also imagine there being some sort of spring involved in that lever, as it is quite, well, springy.
As phantoms engulf the sounds my ears can decipher, we arrive at Mikson's hold, where we depart from his truck and walk briskly through the enormous wrought-iron gate, adorned with space invaders and glass art. Keeping an eye on Cooly, Mikson's trusted A.D.D. wolf, we ease our way through the dangers and perils that lead towards shelter: a structure built by Mikson's own hands and blood, literally. Okay, not literally, but figuratively yes. And come to think of it, I'm almost certain Mikson spilt blood somewhere on that foundation, and I am certain that he used his hands to build it. So yes, literally.
We steal through the night, sweeping under the slow-dropping gate and into the salvation of the hold, making haste to shut the gate and door behind us.
May the devil take you in your slumber and rape you asunder!
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