Dust

And so, after the final wind of a life time blew and stole my final sensible breath, I pulled the thick, coarse rope, feeling the rough material rub my hard, calloused hands. Hands that had gripped this rope so many times. Pulling it the same way for years.

But this time every fiber of my body knew it was different. Every nerve knew this was unlike any other time. Every neuron knew this was the last.

I pulled the rope again, the bell clanged loud and hard above me. I could feel the air waves vibrating down on me. Gravity forcing them to rain down on my shoulders and slump my posture even more. The blow of the bell startled the birds in the top of bellfry and they flew off, into the brightening dawn. Dust, dirt and bits of twigs fell down on me and invaded my nostrils as I inhaled deeply. I fought a sneeze and pinched my nose between my fingers, paralyzing myself for a moment and squeezing my eyes shut tight. Pain appeared behing my eyes and small white shars began dancing in my lack of vision, fluttering around freely. I enjoyed them for a moment, closing my eyes tighter to increase the pain.

There would be no pain after this, after this morning. I opened my eyes again, sneeze having passed, and I found myself cursed and blessed with tunnle vision for a moment. I looked up, watching the bell come to a slow swinging stop.

The birds gone, the bell still and the wind nonexistant, I felt alone. Pleasantly alone for the first time. Perfectly alone. I rubbed my rough hands on my jeans quickly then stepped over to the Western cut out in the wall of the bell tower. The ledge stood waist high and I leaned over it, peering down about 20 yards to the ground. Nothing moved down below. Maybe in the houses, men readying for work, women preparing breakfast for the family and children begging for another 5 minutes of sleep.

And there I stood, in the pale dark, hanging out of a bellfry. My home, my friend, my life. I swung a leg over the side and pulled myself up. The other leg followed and I sat on the ledge.

My heart beat roughly for a moment but I closed my eyes and steadied it as I steadied myself. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. The sun had just begun creasing over the horizon. I could already feel it's natural warmth loosening the cold blood in my veins.

As the atmosphere slowly lightened I raised my hand n front of my face and studied them. Calouses on the palms, dirt in the creases, short and broken nails. They were rough and worn, having never enjoyed the simple pleasures or the Utopian lifestyle below.

I looked down between my knees to the ground. Brown, dirty, far away. The yellow eye was a semicircle on the horizon now and I transfered my focus to my old shoes. Torn and mud-ridden. Barely covered by unwashed, tattered jeans. My attention was stolen then by a few mother bird returning to their offspring with food. I leaned back and listened to the baby birds chirp hungrily.

The sun was now three quarters of the way over the horizon. I smiled a little, for just a moment, then gripped the wall beside me. I hoisted myself to a standing position and hugged the wall for balance. I teetered a little but chuckled as I caught myself.

I now stared directly at the sun, watching it rise slowly. Nothing went through my mind, for there was nothing worth thinking about. The sun crept upward, like a child far away had lost it's giant yellow balloon.

The very bottom of it's circumfrence ter of the ledge. I stared into the incredthe center of the ledge. I stared into the incredible glow for a moment, nearly blinding myself, the grinned from ear to ear. The most genuine smile I had evr managed.

One more deep breath, one more moment. Then I stepped from the ledge and flew. For one glorious moment, I flew.
---------------
Excuse typos, I don't normally read what I write.

Funny Deaths

I have to admit that sometimes I feel bad about laughing at death. It IS a horrible thing but sometimes, when people die, or get hurt...it's just funny. It's not the death itself that's funny but the circumstances surrounding it. And no one can seriously say that they didn't think someone deserved what they got at one point or another. Child molesters, rapists, mass murders? There must be SOMEONE you thought deserved to die. Even if only for a moment.

Well I was watching telly yesterday, some show about this horrible gang that's sweeping the nation. THAT is horrible. They're murdering like mad and that is horrible too..but, in the middle of these clips of dead bodied being cleaned off the streets there was a shot of a man with a meat thermometer in his stomach/chest. The fact that he had been killed, and the fact that he had been stabbed is awful. Far from funny. The fact that he had been stabbed with a thermometer...kinda funny...The fact that it was a meat thermometer, the kind you use on the grill when you wanna know if your burgers are done...that to me is hailrious!

I burst out laughing instantly. I had to get inside the murder's mind.
Had he found it in an alley and tucked it away in his pocket just incase he needed it later?

Had he stolen it from his mom's house because he was jealous of it and just happened to kill this man with it?

Was he a cannibal who didn't get to finish what he satrted?

Was he conducting a science experiment, trying to figure out how hot the sun in L.A. would make a dead body? That leads me to asking...was there another body with another thermometer in it hidden in the shade somewhere?

Had he went out and bought this thermometer for the sheer purpose of stabbing this man? Would a gangster really even BUY his weapon of choice? Wouldn't he just steal it?

I can picture it now, he walks calmly into a grovery store, face hidden, gun hidden. He finds the isle with the meat thermometers and he picks out the most impressive one, he's not going to waste time stealing crap. On his way to the door he pauses...the thermometer is still in it's package...the alarm will go off.

So he turns and walks down the snack aisle, slowly and quietly stripping the packaging away, then he hides it behind a box of Cheez-its and shoves the thermometer down his pants. The worng way. He fights a yelp of pain and readjusts it. When he looks to his left a little old woman is staring at him...she thinks he was fixing his junk. So she walks up to him and beats him with her purse, calling him a pervert. He grabs his gun but can't shoot her. She might be someone's grandma. He has a grandma. Whatatya know? A gangster with a heart.

So he apologizes to the woman and shuffles away from her, back toward the door. Passing a box of Twinkies, he can't resist. He checks behind him to see the old lady has now moved on. So he opens the box quietly and shoves some Twinkies down his pants. Now the alarm won't go off but he must be careful because it looks like he has a massive erection and he doesn't want to be arrested for that.

Finally he slips out of the store, undetected. Now to find dinner.

Insanely Amazing and Hypnotic Game Of The Week 15/4/2010

http://intihuatani.usc.edu/cloud/flowing/core.html
Between the beautiful graphics and hypnotic sound I just couldn't get enough of this. I love it.

Hoverers

One type of person that drives me absolutely mad is hoverers. You know the type. The people who appear out of no where as thought the morphed through the wall and slide up behind you then lean over your shoulder to see what you're doing. I hate that.

And it doesn't matter what I'm doing when they begin to hover, as long as they're there I feel as though I'm doing something wrong. Even if I'm reading a book, I end up feeling as though I'm reading wrong. Or as though I'm reading a smutty book. It could be the Bible, but if someone is hovering I suddenly feel guilty.

I get especially annoyed by the head-hoverers. I can deal with the shoudler-hoverers for a while but when someone comes up behind me and leans over my head I lose it. Have they never heard of my bubble? Do not invade my bubble without invitation or permission.

This gives me an amazing idea. You know those invisible fences people put around their yards to keep their dogs in the perimeter? I want one of those that's sensitive to people's DNA. I was to wear a little sensor on my hip and program in people's DNA that ARE allowed near me and when anyone else tries to get close it will send them a little shock and knock them back a bit. And maybe if I really don't like the person I'll throw one of those shoking dog collars at them just before they get close enough to me so that they get another shock when they yelp from surprise from the first one.

Genius, right?

I think I would call it the GAIDLY (Go Away I Don't Like You). It'd sell billions. I'd be rich! I could use the GAIDLY right now, as I'm typing this. The person across from me is taking up most of my foot space. That's not ok.

Of The Week 9/4/10

I'ma start doing _____ of the week to be sure I continusously update my blog. Even if it is something simple. It could be a video, picture, comic strip, quote, story, website, song, musical artist, drawing, thought, word. ANYTHING really. As long as it's made some sort of impact on me.

I think I'll start with the Surprisingly Good Performance Video Of The Week:



I was wonderfully surprised by this. I wasn't expecting anything goo to come from him. But he altered the arrangetment just enough and felt the song so much that i was blown away.
Good job sir.

Ink Lovers

Touching me with written words.
A feeling like never before.
Unapologetic sex,
Love,
Thought,
Us.
Wrapping my expansive arms
Around her forever nonexistance.
So close to my fingers,
To my needy fingers.
Ready to steal her,
Sin her,
Own her.
She leaves cherished cuts,
Protected bruises.
Saves my tears in the material
Of the pillow-soft cotton she
Covers herself with.
Under which she hides.
Of which I cannot touch,
But want to strip away.
Expose her,
Touch her,
Explore her,
Understand her,
Believe her.


I dunno if it's quite finished. I'm not sure. I feel as though it needs something more. I'm rather proud of what I have tho. Maybe all it needs is a title?

EDIT: It's titled now. Still dunno if it's finished but I'm much happier XD

Exquisite Corpse

Ok, so I started this game with two people. It's calles 'Exquisite Corpse' and what you do is pretty simple, one person draws/paints/sketches/etc. something and sends it to the other person who then adds something to it and sends it back, then you add something and on and on until you're done. Whenever that is.

I got the idea from a couple great people. One of my favourite singers: Mika, and one of my favouite artists: Sophie Blackall, played this a while ago and I really liked their outcome.

I started it tonight. I just finished painting two very simple pictures. They're both the same thing because I thought it would be fun to see how the two, which start almost identical, become so different through different influences and personalities.

I'll post a picture of the starting painting when I know both of them have received it.

Vanilla Twilight Hand

I'm rather proud of this one and I really liked the process for some reason so I thought I'd share it.

Step one...was getting Owl City's cd and finding a pair of headphones.

Step two was looking at my own hand. After taking MULTIPLE pictures, and disliking ALL of them, I decided to stick with mine in real life cause it was closer and I could pick up the details I wanted.

Step three...The outline:


Step four...Shading:


Step five...Words:


And just in case you can't read them it says: "The silence isn't so bad till I look at my hands and feel sad cause the spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly."

Watchya think?

Sophie Blackall

Sophie Blackall is one of the most amazing arists I've ever seen. Here's a look at some of her stuff.













She has her own blog if you wnt to keep up with her and look at her other work. She's quite whitty as well. Always gives me a good chuckle.
http://sophieblackall.blogspot.com/

Harlotry

Ok, I don't often feel the need to explain myself, and maybe I still don't, I just like throwing something as...'odd' and 'shocking' as what runs through my mind out there for people to process. So today's topic kiddies is my whorishness.

I am not a whore, mind you, though I do have sluttish tendencies. I am simply...easily attracted to people and things. I have a great love for art, which to me is beauty and therefore whenever I see/hear someone/something that is beautiful I am quickly attracted. It is usually a mental/physical attraction that really means nothing more than admiration. I do not easily fall in love with people. I love easily, yes, but love and IN love are completely different things.

When I am IN love I am loyal to that one person. I will not run off and fall in love with someone else or have a fling but I will also not stop admiring the people and things I usually admire. I may gush about certain people's appearences quite often BUT I can bet you that I fell for their art before I fell for thier looks.

You want examples? Ok: Mika, I love him as you all know, most everything about him, but my first thought on his appearence was "Who is this freakish man-woman?" David Bowie, his appearence meant nothing to me. David Collins, I thought he looked...plain, and his hair annoyed me. Patrick Wolf, again, plain and boring. Adam Lambert wasn't even attractive to me at first. All of these people can kill me now BUT not necessarily that easily. My attraction to their appearence is still connected to their art. if I haven't watched them perform for a while them their appearence usually bores me though I do note that they are attractive and no longer freakish.

Now I do admit to judging people quickly on appearence. If I see someone attractive then I'm happy to point it out and look at them for long periods of time. But you must understand that it isn't necessarily the person I'm attracted to, it's their beauty and I have no interest in doing anything with them. Even if someone gorgeous who I was hyponotized by came up to me and offered the best sex ever, I would refuse.

Now I must say that I am not only attracted to people. Things, pieces of art, voices, the reflection of a bus in a building's windows, a bird flying across the sky, a word even! I find those things, and things like them, to be very attractive. This may seem weird, but to me it isn't. I am attracted to beauty and art. It's a slightly different attraction than that which pulls me toward people, but not much.

To tell you the thruth I can think of very few people I've been attracted to in 'that way.' *thinks* Yeah...maybe...7. In all my life. And I mean, not counting those little things like walking through the hall at school and being like "That person is sexy!" I'm talking about people I'm actually interested in dating (I don't like that word btw, I dunno why, but I don't). And I think there has been so few because I am such a loyal person. I find one person I like and it takes a hell of a lot to pull me away from them. Even if I don't actually have them, which is usually the case.

And you can see my loyalty in the artists I love. I've been with Mika for 3 years and will defend him to the end. The same goes for Patrick, and David Bowie. And authors like Roadl Dahl, artists like Sophie Blackall and Quentin Blake, actors like Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham-Carter. I've been following these people, some longer than others, but I am loyal to them and what they do. I'm not in love with them, maybe in love with their work, but not the person. And of course I would love to meet them, those that are still living anyway, but that's purely...let's say academic interest. I want to learn about them to see what makes them who they are.

So have I explained anything or have I just rambled on? I feel like I've rambled. But whatever I just did was meant to explain that I am attracted to people and things in two different ways and that one does not effect the other nor does it mean I am a whore, or any variation of the word.

Untitled Poem...needs some work.

Ok, I wrote this yesterday but I don't think I'm quite happy with it yet and there's no title. I'm not quite feeling anything for the title... Hmm...anyway, let me know what you think :]

And so there we stood.
Hands so far apart
and yet they claspedfitted
like perfect puzzle pieces.
There we were
on the cliff
about to jump
as the wind whipped out our hair
and our day and night locks
wrote stories of longing in the air.
Another step closer
and there we stood.
Ready to shove each other over the edge
and watch the crash be fore we joined.
Bodies already mangled by the past,
the jagged rocks could do us no harm.
And yet we feared them.
So there we stood,
watching time pass
the soft ticking of the seconds
keeping us awake at night,
ravaging our thoughts by day.
Tick Tick Tick
I love you
Tick Tick Tick
I love you
Tick Tick Tick
Words so loud
Muffled by fear.
So there we stood,
waiting to leap.

What Is Love? Baby, Don't Hurt Me.

This post may get a little...off topic at times because I always have a lot to say about love. But the general ide of this post is "Do we ever love someone fully?"



When we fall in love we tend to believe that the person we are in love with has no flaws, and I'm sure, looking back we can all pick out MANY flaws in those we used to be in love with. What I believe really happens is that we fall in love with the parts we do like and forgive the flaws. So this brings to mind the question "Can we really be in love with people we don't know?"



I, personally, believe we can. By people we don't know I do mean celebrities or people you meet through letters or over the internet. We fall in love ith what we're presented with. With a piece of that person. And though that might not be as much of the person we would know if we met them in real life and spent time with them, it's still the part of them they wish to show. Even when we do meet someone and spend time with them and get to know them there is a layer that no one is allowed into. That person shows you what they want you to see and that's all you can see. So is there really a difference?

What do we lose over the internet and letters? Physical appearence? So? That may be important to some people but I've always fallen in love with personality before appearence. And once I do love the personality I fall in love with appearence. Internet and letters may be better anyway. People are much more themselves when not face to face with someone because the fear of hurt and rejection and judgement are intensely lessened. And we lose the sound of one's voice. Again that doesn't seem to ba a massive factor in falling in love.

So why are those who date over the internet made fun of so much? Maybe because those who have not experienced blind love are ignorant to the bliss of it? Maybe because those who do ridicule people on the internet are alone themselves and therefore are jealous? I don't know the reason, but I don know that falling in love is pretty easy if you find just the right person. And if you trust that person and if that person makes you happy then does it matter where you meet them and how long you know them? Isn't that the basis of love? Of any relationship really?

And, back to the topic, of course we only get a piece of the person on the internet or through letters, but we prolly get more and a truer piece of the person over something that shields us than in real life where people are scared and generally fake.

Personally I don't care where the person is or who the person is as long as said person makes me happy and feels the same. That's what really matters in any relationship. And I love being in love ♥

I Live For Sin

Pride. Pride is a sin, right? Or so the Bible says. One of the seven deadliest ones. But pride, I believe, can also save your life. Pride gives one a reason to continue, does it not? Without pride one would feel rather pointless, yes? Okay, well maybe not everyone but a proper majority of the current worldwide population needs pride to have meaning.

No, I have not read the Bible, no more than the first few pages, and maybe there is a set limit for the amount of pride on is allowed, but I stil do not see the logic. Pride is nothing but good. Pride only becomes bad when the person becomes arrogant and cocky. But that is a different level. that is a personality issue, not a feeling within.

I draw and paint and write and many other things and when I finish something I like I am proud of it. I feel as though I have accomplished something great and ammore than happy to show it off. I have pride in what I do because I do it. I even have pride in the simple things I do. I have pride in the way I walk and talk and what I say. I'm proud of my thoughts and my taste in music and movies. I have pride in the clothing I choose and the way I rationalize. I have pride in me beacuse I, above anyone else, must like what I do otherwise I'm meaningless. If I don't like myself then I will never care about the others who say they like me and who say they are proud of me. I, alone, matter to myself.

Now I realize all of that sounds a little selfish and cocky but it isn't. Cocky would be me telling you that I'm proud of myself for being better than you. But I'm not. We're all at the same level. Some have skills that surpass other's but no one is better than anyone else. I have pride in myself first and then, I believe, I can have pure pride for others and can rightly accept the pride from others.

Without pride in what we do there is no reason to do it.

Intro?

Whenever I start one of these things I feel asthough I owe people an explination of what they will find when they come here. I really don't though. Owe you an explination that is. But I think I shall give you one anyway.

So sometimes my mind is very poetic and I feel the need to write, draw, paint, rant (beautifully of course) or express myself in someother way. I also discover intriguing new things all the time and I like sharing them. And I like to show off some of my old stuff every time I start something like this.

So I'll pretty much post anything and everything here. You can prolly expect a lot of art related things and a good deal of fan-girling over things and people. But not nesessarily in a mushy way. But I often get stuck on something for long periods of time and very strongly.

So this will pretty much end up being me. In blog form. Not that you don't all get enough of me in real life. I'll post poems and drawings and maybe things I'm in the middle of and aren't refined yet because the trip is just as importat as the destination.

OH! And I also can't promise to keep up with this. There prolly won't be a weekly update but more of a monthly surge of stuff. I'll try to keep it pretty updates tho. Just a warning.