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...Random Ramblings...  Wow. Maybe Fox News should talk about this. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zy_f1KOU Yup. This is kind of how it works... http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/creepy.png Wilting, I cast a shadow of compassion upon an empty page, scattered hues of shrill lament to splatter lust and merriment. What languid face of stolid hearts do traipse the whining, halting, shuddered starts that vainly stretch to hallowed stars, staring down the sunrise. It fills not the bleak demise of happiness in shepherd’s eyes, that toil days and loathsome night in demon present and song divide, a sanctioned course of joy denied to wanton watchers of warring skies. Traverse the downy, petalled dew and cross the sunken melon hue, to dance the tune of sordid night, that peaks the ear and swallows sight. These are not jests of harmonies hence, to tickle, trickle slowly then the speckled under-bellied youth whose hopes of want find in truth, a starlit gaze of spotted haze glistening in distance come. I cannot tread this sallowed page, for fortnight late the wand’ring sage whose rhyme of spell do deepen black the shallow triumphs it sorely lacks, but what recalls and what renews, the lilting, wishing fading you. As so the moon in sudden flight, does breast the celestial plunging blight, and rings the morning sprung anew, the whistling, thistling, shuddering dew, so rapt the mind’s attention glared that want of solace birthed you there and sprinkled cross your scented brow the musk of sacred life endowed. Succumb thy wretched life eschewed the wondering eyes that follow you, a puff of haze, pondering whence the toil once sought in merriment, forgotten once the mind endured, a dreary pleading wrestling youth. Become my maid of solid white, so bathed in snowy, cloaking night, that once your sweated face does lie in the lingering palms of nature’s eye, you will find peace and songs inside the blistering monotony that dreams deride. Somewhere in a weird uncharted expanse of fields and withering anecdotes, a child plays wistfully as she spins her life around a startling nut bound cage. It's propped precariously above the wanton wayward watchtower that spies her unlikely perch before plunging haphazardly to the wilting waves below. Suddenly her attention peaks a standing bastion on the horizon jumps to focus, wallowing sadly as it waddles down the shore, head ablaze with torment and retarded satisfaction. Why this traveler balks at his task she doesn't know though instantly resolves to find out. She sits, waits, her intent to burst upon him as he passes. What harm can a little shock do? Sitting in the calm embrace of that withered tree she ponders, precluding her inevitable encounter, surprised at her sudden indifference to caution. Regardless, she still waits as that bobbing head plods stumbling on through gently breaking surf, stomping to and far in the wetted sand that is his decay. He clears the bend, the shaggy veins of circumstance that reach vainly, some miles above his head, roots tracing, trapcing through the knarled space that shelters the hollows of his mind, grasping at dreams that pass the lonely mind in the gentle caress of sleep. He does not notice. He is too weary from the sinking imprint of his leather boots to spy the beaconing tendrils. What cares he for the heavens above if the earth below proves so contaminating? Fatigue in sodden shuddering breaths belies the exhaustion of his experience. Undoubtedly, he looks not to the horizon or across the willowing expanse of bark and limbs that shelter the waiting child. Instead, he sees the solid sordid pace of his own misery. She pauses, pondering the stolid encumbered one as he approaches. He does not look up, but towards the hell fire of his end, he does not speak, his voice no longer hastens moisture, he does not linger, for his clouds cannot belch the cooling rain of salvation, he does not sleep, for dreams offer recompense for the demons of his soul. She stands, shrouded in the haze of cracked brown that envelopes the twisted oak and fights a smile that creeps across her face. A perfect prey. He is near now, within the helpless net of her constancy, arms length and malleable, unsuspecting and uncaring. Strike. Years pass as a snapping gun propels its round, deep into the rotting flesh of his teetering soul. The present brews and festers still as nets do break and scrape onward. New faces and places he trundles further, contextually, regretfully, dejectedly, diligently, rewriting the music of his soul. There is no maestro to set his pace, no pleasing scale to tune his thoughts, no harmony to his caucus melody, but still he stumbles on. Trembling, waking, washing, wasting. The reality of his existence remains clouded, though sun can pierce the mired and unforgiving heavens. Lighter he stands, straighter his course, and once again the master of his own destined sunrise, minstrel of his own demise. It's not often that I leave a movie thinking "that was really good," much less thinking "that was fucking awesome." The last movies I can truly remember thinking this was Return of the King and coming close with The Dark Knight. Watchmen is now the most recent. I'd say the best comic book adaptation to date.
So this being single thing is kind of weird, especially when you think that something is going well only to find out that that person knows how to date more than one person at the same time. I have a friend and a dance partner that I thought might/had turn/ed into something more, but for some reason or other has made it clear that she's interested in a number of people at once. This is a concept I have trouble with having been a serial monogomist for the overwhelming majority of my life. I really do wonder how this works. Any dolt with half a brain can see that humankind has gone insane to the point where I don't know if I'll upset the status quo if I throw poison in the water main Listen close to everybody's heart and hear that breaking sound Hopes and dreams are shattering apart and crashing to the ground I cannot believe my eyes how the world's filled with filth and lies But it's plain to see evil inside of me is on the rise Anyone with half a brain can spend their whole life howling in pain The dark is everywhere and Penny doesn't seem to care that the dark in me is all that will remain Listen close to everybody's heart and hear that breaking sound Hopes and dreams are shattering apart and crashing to the ground I can not believe my eyes how the world's filled with filth and lies But it's plain to see evil inside of me Dallas sometimes surprises me. http://www.nbcchicago.com/news/weird/Da Too much has happened today. My mind lies in pieces strewn across the ground. |
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Dear Santa...