Walking with Demons

YGO - pride
( A Tall Occurrence )

( Temptingly Tripping )

( The Squid Prince )




Originals
( The Young Stranger )

( The Explosive Terror of the Snow )

( A Sand in Time )

So....I'm looking for favorite songs. Not songs that I'll like necessarily (though I do generally like just about everything), but whatever peoples' favorite songs happen to be.
Because I'm curious like that.
So...what be your fave song?
(Title, artist, whatnot.)

Considering the fact that I took the pictures with a cell phone...I think they came out pretty good. Nice pen. ^^
Maybe not worth a three week wait....butcha know~
S'all good.





<( Pen Pron )

In the early morning hours, is anything truly painful?
I've woken up with red stains on the sheets, and not known quite how they got there, though I was bleeding from a hundred shallow paper cuts, crisscrossing my forearms. They don't hurt that early in the morning. Everything's....numb.
Blissfully numb.
By daylight it'll begin to burn again...but that's just the circle of life.

Darkness

Been spending so much time underground I guess my eyes adjusted to the lack of light. I got covered in darkness, covered in darkness.
Hibernating always waiting for something new happiness always ending in the blink of an eye. There was no one attending, no one attending

It doesn't really matter where it all began. All I know - I got covered in darkness, covered in darkness. Ever wonder why I never really truly connect? Although my eyes are open I can hold your gaze but I am never connected, never connected

I am famous for my generosity. They say I am the kindest. It is easier to give than receive love, give than receive love

It doesn't really matter where it all began. All I know - I was covered in darkness, covered in darkness

Turning pages over run away to nowhere and it's hard to take contro. When your enemy's old and afraid of you, you'll discover that the monster you were running from is the monster in you

Better to hold on to love. Better to hold on to love. Change will come

It doesn't really matter where it all began. All I know - I was covered in darkness, covered in darkness

It doesn't really matter where it all began, cuz all I know... I was lost. I was lost. No, no

It doesn't really matter where it all began, no, no. All I know - I was lost, I feel lost. Lost, no...

It's times like these, when the world is mostly asleep, except for those few who cannot dream of anything beyond midnight hours and past, when three-am smacks of nothing but chills, pained stomachs and a few cold sips of ramen that was made four hours past. These are the times when the world seems most clear to me. I can look out from my perch, right beside a closed window, where seeds of the present rest in a plastic baggie, soaked with a paper towel that has been there for three days.

Have you heard the muffin man, who sings on Dreary Lane? The song, the song, the little song, of the men he's set in pain? The muffin man, the muffin man, who sits under the trees, and screams to god and godless men of truth and lies and these:
Have you heard the muffin man, who cries on Dreary Lane? His sobs, they ring, as church bells sing, though out the thrice damned land. The muffin man, the muffin man, who swings from the lowest bough, has spent his years, and cried his tears and hast taken his last bow.

Immortal? Yes I am not. Try to understand. I'm here, and you are there, and you're listening to me, because you can't hear what I'm thinking. The moon is purple, and the skies are a beautiful, smoggy grey. They threaten rain, and it's been nearly too long since I last drowned in the air.
Two unfortunate souls wander by, and I watch, from the window that is red, this room that blends from the red of veins to the orange of a pumpkin patch in full bloom. The tools of creation rest across the way, dripping still from the days that have gone by, and to the right, rests my lifeblood, the creations that haven't been born quite yet, held in jars, sparkling in hues. They already know what words they will become, but I haven't even seen them quite yet.
The brown that sparkles with a will, shimmering, the soft color of dried blood, that perfect medium to write with upon a canvas of skin. Oh yes, I've gone quite insane.
But don't worry.
I can still hear you.
Calling.
Drifting.
Can you hear the muffin man, the muffin man who died on Dreary Lane?

There are only a few words that come to mind when 'Writer's Con' is mentioned. First and foremost: OMG. I went to one! Second...fuck...I so wish I was back there.

Instead, I'm here at home, helping sis with essays on the lake, and conducting experiments that take hours and yield few results, none of which are interesting. (A sci-history research paper? Really? You've gotta be kidding. She's not even a freshman yet.) At least it's something to do while I wait to find out if I have the one month 6 AM shift of lifeguarding again. Just...y'know...fun stuff.

Today I started thinking up comedy...and the best I could come up with was cruelty to grapes resulting in the creation of tofu grape juice. I think I fail at life.

Okay, I hereby challenge any and all writers who read this post to complete my challenge/dare/whatnot.

Rules:

1 - You must use (at least) ONE of the lines below to write a story.
2 - (directed at Kami should she read this) The story MAY NOT be above 5000 words.
3 - Your main character for the story must be from your favorite fandom, and someone from your first fandom must make at least a passing appearance.  (If you're doing Original Characters, then fave character and first character.)
4 - Um....have fun?

(I'm going to try this btw.)


LINES:

Harder! Harder! Sin harder!

If you ever hold a knife like that to me again, I´ll kill you. No matter how much I love you.

You never know who's gonna be in him next.

Close the window, will you? They're shooting people down at the church again.

With a name like that, the only way he's surviving high school is if he gets there and beats the shit out of everyone his first day.

Dammit, even here my cell phone goes off at the worst moment. Just a second. Hello, disembodied spirit here, what can I do for you?

And then she kicked me in the shin, so I had shin cancer too.

( Read more... )

While critiquing a poem, I learned a new word. So here it is:





Now that I look at it, I think I've heard it before....eh. At least I know I know it now. 8D

I am blatantly ignoring the fact that I have three major exams (and a slew of little ones) coming up in the next two weeks, and am attending a poetry reading! Go me. Wow....I'm not being very smart about this am I? >>

It appears coach has had the baby. Yay. ^^

Has anyone ever told you that you're not made out for something? Hey, you can't play soccer - you can't even kick the damn ball. You can't do math - idiot, two and two make four! You can't wear those pants - you're too damn ugly for them.
Well...I guess trying to get away with wearing frilly pink things should have tipped me off to the last. Mostly though, the rant of today is centered on blood, and why I can't give it.
Today was supposed to be a nice, relaxed, let's-get-together-and-go-lose-a-pint-of-blood-so-someone-else-can-live type day. General enough, no? So I went with friends, and we sat around, chatting, filling out paperwork and oogling the huge cookies that served as 'prizes' for donating a bit of bodily fluid. (To be fair, they were chocolate chip, and chocolate is akin to really, really good sex in my world.) A few went before me, a few behind me, waiting in line. I did the whole prick-finger-to-determine-hemoglobin-levels thing. That was fine. I answered questions about where I'd been, whether I'd been sexually active, if it was with a guy...the whole two bits. (I was quite tempted to mark YES on the box inquiring Are you pregnant?)
Line up, watching friends sit in pretty blue chairs, and see the blood get dragged out of them. So far, so good.
Then it was my turn. I've always been a huge fan of needles. I love the damn things. Seriously. I look forward to doctor's appointments when I am given shots; don't ask why - I don't think I could explain it if I tried. I sat down, chatting cheerily with a friend who went anorexic over the summer. (Actually, I'm surprised they allowed her to give blood. Isn't there a minimum weight clause that says if ribs are showing, don't donate?)
Nurse and needle wandered over. I like the left side of my body. It's been through the most crap, and bad things always seem to wind up injuring me more substantially on the left, but I thank it for taking the burden off my right side. If I were left handed or ambixedtrious, perhaps I wouldn't care quite as much, but I'm right handed, right legged, and very thankful of my left's injury magnetism. The needle went in my left arm.
Kay and I were sitting side by side, discussing practices, food, school....
And then the room was gone.
Second-hand, the knowledge I have says: I passed out. My blood pressure dropped. I stopped breathing. What I've also heard is that I was still discussing school work around the time they have a record of my heart stopping. What. The. Fuck.
Anyway, I have been declared unsuitable to give blood, because apparently, my body is very possessive of the material inside it. Blood comes out, I go down. At least I got a cookie...
Because as everyone knows, the cookie is really the important part.

So, I made the mistake of picking up a book series I haven't read in ages. Anyone who likes really long series of things would appreciate this one: The Legend of Drizzt, written by RA Salvatore. (Yes, dammit, I'm trying to convert people.) Basic premise is this emo elf who doesn't fit in underground decides to try his luck above ground, and lo and behold! He becomes a hero. Basically. (Of course it's more complex than that - there's something like thirty books!)
In order to make everyone who is anyone read it, I am fanficcing it. >>
Right now, it feels more like original fiction, mostly because I am merely borrowing the 'verse, not the characters, but meh. Eventually I'll get everything straightened out, and maybe feel like I'm writing for a purpose again. I hate sitting down to write when I have no idea why I'm doing it. Reviews are great, but they aren't enough motivation any more (and I never thought I would say that.)
Several summaries are bouncing around in my head at the moment. I've been playing with a few of them, and some seem much better than others. I'll probably end up putting it to a vote eventually (since I do suck at summaries), and winner takes all. I guess.
I'm also toying with titles...dear god, I'm playing around with so much stuff for this fic, I'm surprise I have plans of posting it at all. ><

For those of you who have read Loveless, this is an entirely different note. For my French class, each student is teaching part of a lesson. If we get a higher quiz average on the lessons by the end of this thingy-ma-jigger, we all ace this semester. (I am quite eager for this.) Anyhow, I'm making a powerpoint, and the 'guide' to my lesson is none other than Soubi, from Loveless. (I picked out panels of him from when he was young and mostly innocent looking.) Changing his words in the speech bubbles has probably been my favorite thing to do in photoshop for the past few days. Yes, I need a bit of a life. Do they sell them on ebay?


Hmn....I intended to write this above, but stream of consciousness doesn't equal Sal keeping things in order. In order to entice you YGO fans into possibly reading The Legend of Drizzt, I was going to point out how much like Yami Drizzt is, and how much like Seto our assassin friend, Entreri is. (Entreri is obsessed with Drizzt; he wants to beat him. Sound familiar?) I could probably go through and make comparisons for all of them, but I won't. Just....read them. ^^
And if you're only going to read one, go for the best - Homeland, Exile and Soujourn make up the first chronological trilogy. (Granted, there's no Entreri in them because he doesn't show up until the Icewind Dale trilogy, but meh. Writing-wise, the early years pwn.)
 

S'all right everybuggy. I'm finally back from the Euorpean continent...and I have BOOTS. Yes. Fear the boots. Black with buckles. mmmmm....Yay. ^^

Nothing fun going on now though. Blah. ><

I'm doing some writing (surprise, surprise, huh?) but.... I seem to have abandoned the YGO fandom. >> Please don't shoot me, bahen. I beg of you. I like my fingers.

Oh...and Kami, I bought a PEN whilst I was away in Europe! ^^ I ish very happsie indeed. Yus. Happsie ish I.

End thoughts.

Yes, that's right. OMG. I wrote a new story. No. Really. A NEW story.
This one is a bit different than anything else I've done. For one thing, the characters (all seven of them) are lacking names thus far....and it's been 12 076 words. (Now, Kami said she made it to 80000 without once naming her charas, but I'm not quite so gifted as all that. Besides MY charas are supposed to have names by now; 5 000 was when everything was supposed to happen.)
So, now that Child and two thirds of Blue are off to see the wizard (the wonderful wizard of Oz~), they finally get the names that have been denied them.

I'm looking forward to my wonderful stay in Europe, but unfortunately the comp is staying at home so I'll be Net-deprived when I return. Word deprived too. >>
(The journal IS coming with though, so never fear. I shall still be writing, even if I can't update daily.)

That's it really....
Oh, and the link:

Rumor Hasn't

Yes, it's on AFFnet...no, it's not sexually inclined or violent (yet) or depressing. It's just something new. And (GASP!) I might not kill anyone this time around either.

I feel amazing. So, "Savage Divinity" is my novel title. I have typed 3,010 words in a little under 70 minutes. TAKE THAT MIKO!
Anyway....off to a strong start. ^^

When I hang out on PP at night, sometimes I get an idea or six to try, and sometimes odd little things like this pop up. At any rate, the thing to do today it seems is to post the first lines of the 20 most recent fics you've written. Since I havne't written 20 fics... I'm just listing all meh first lines in relative order. ((This is ignoring drabbles and Compys' contest ficlets, 'cause I can't remember when those were posted.))

Missing: The fluorescent lights of the hospital flickered, dimly illuminating a young man laid out across one of the beds.
I'm Coming: I have ice water for blood.
Closer Than Air: I recieved the phone call during my lunch break.
Most Unoriginal Sin: Atemu was perched atop his desk, a mischievous smile fluttering across his face.
The Claiming Rite: The audience chamber was empty with the exception of two sweating, bare bodies hopelessly entangled on the floor.
Three Days Grace: “That brings the total to $124.96,” the cashier said.
Forgive Me: It hurts, but I'm not bleeding.
Every Truth A Lie: "Nii-sama, I'm home!" he sang out, pushing the front door closed behind him.
The Angels Shall Weep: When Moutu Solomon answered the door, he didn't know what he expected, but a dripping wet fourteen-year-old was not one of them.
Eternal: This is when things stop making sense.
Broken Winged Bird: I go back to visit every once in a while.
Touching Minds: The first touch to a child's mind burns.
I Am Hope: They awoke to a loud crashing noise downstairs.

There are few times I hate LJ. Now is one of them.

http://photobucket.com/albums/y245/AlylaCat/th_1.gif

Best icon ever, and I CANT USE IT.

That's what I'm supposed to be doing right now. Editing. My. Own. Work.
Fuck that. I mean, I love my own work the way everyone does ((when I'm not quite conscious and there ae lots of little praising reviews in my inbox)) but reading it through over and over trying to find where I can add something like plot...just sucks.
Not to mention I've got my iPod on, and the internet's open, so I'm being distracted. I have no idea how I'll deal with this when I really need to keep focused. xD
This morning the team went out into the lake for a swim. It went pretty well. We broke up into two groups - distance and slow people. "Distance" just meant the three coming with me 1) weren't afraid of going fast or 2) were so cold fast was the only think keeping them from hypothermia. The "Slow" group was actually headed by the second fastest swimmer on the team. When she and the other five reached the beach, I thought she was going to die of relief.
I've never been so glad to be a strong open water swimmer. It means I didn't get stuck with the whiny, "OMG it's SEAWEED!" swimmers.
No. It's not SEAweed. We're in a lake. It's LAKEweed. Smoke it. Maybe you'll learn something.

Well, I was poking around in the bookstore a few months ago and came across a book written by a swimmer. Now, of course, being a swimming-bsessee myself, I couldn't hlep but buy it, no matter the dnet it put in food funds.
I only just got around to reading it this past week. It's good.
Off the Deep End by W. Hodding Carter, for any of you willing to check it out. Nearly 200 pages worth of absurdity, heartache and the absolutely insane idea that at 45 some random almost-nobody could qualify for the Olympic Trials.
Well, seeing as how the Trials have come and passed, and no one was hailing this particular 45 year old as the Olympic champion in the 50-meter freestyle, I think it's safe to say he didn't make his goal. But really, that doesn't make much of a difference. Carter's got a splendind book, even if he does appear self-centered for the majority of it.
So....if you're bored, pick it up. Technical details may be a bit of a turn off, but those don't even crop up until the end, so who cares? READ IT.

In other news, coach has been kicking our asses with swim practices. He's one tough character. Thankfully, there's two-a-days. That means, of course, an extra hour of pain; just what the doctor ordered. Add that to the fact school is looming yet again, and...well...
I'm trying to keep up with my stories on aff. I've got two out that are original. I'd Rather Die is something of a suicide cult type story, but I'm not all that brilliant with summarizing my own work, so I'd suggest reading it! What little I have up of it, anyway. It's finished, but the revision process it kicking me harder than a mule.
Second to that is a story I've got a few chapters of finished - Motorbike. Again, not so hot on the summary end, but basic premis is a gay teenager moving into a new town and getting ready to rewrite the rulebooks according to his ideas of how things should be. Why "Motorbike"? Well...you'll just have to read it to find out, won't you?
Finally, there's a little YGO fanfiction that's been on the backburner for a while that's finally been brought back to life. My CPR efforts have actuallly turned out to work a lot better than I thought they would. I was hoping for, at most, maybe a cough or splutter, but it seems Every Truth A Lie ((the only story of mine reviewed by one of the goddesses of writing - Nenya)) has developed a life of its own and found its plot. ((Originally, that's what was missing, and what convinced me to abandon the project...until Nen poked it with the magical wand of reviewing.))

Probably a lot of stuff no one needs to know, but since when has THAT made a difference?
Jaa!