#i cant make those last two images post side by side even though they appear that way in the composer

[inalandofllamas]

☀️🛹 JOE SK8's tattoo

this has been really fun to learn to make, it's position meant it went over three different parts of the sim texture and i really enjoyed that challenge more than i expected to. she's not perfect, but i'm pretty proud of and am happy with the outcome. i hope all the sk8 fans will enjoy using this 💚

notes:

there are two swatches offering differing opacities

disabled for random

custom CAS thumbnail for easy finding

PLEASE show me your joes if you use this tattoo!!

☀️🛹 DOWNLOAD 🛹☀️ [simsfileshare]

#sk8 the infinity #kojiro nanjo #joe sk8 #ts4cc #the sims 4 #maxismatchccworld #the sims 4 cc maxis match #ts4cc tattoo #i cant make those last two images post side by side even though they appear that way in the composer #i hate this tumblr what are you doing #inalandofllamas cc

[ask-the-crimson-king]

Tales from D&D: The Campfire Song Song

[It is I, your friendly neighborhood Hermit back with another tale from D&D. And this one is... Certainly a saga. LONG POST AHOY.

IT IS ONCE AGAIN FROM MY CURSE OF STRAHD CAMPAIGN! The characters, in brief, are:

AETERNUS -- Goliath wild soul barbarian, played more like a golem than a goliath. Stoic, remembers almost nothing of his past. ARAZEL -- Blood angel (aasimar x tiefling hybrid) bard, has a patron because he used to be a Warlock and the player wanted to keep the patron. Very much a Bard. Has tamed a fucking dire wolf who is now named Boris. He is a good boy. LEON -- Human time domain cleric, worships a god of time called Tempus. Old retired soldier sent out into the world because his god has plans for him. CALEB -- Vampire desperado gunslinger, a vampire hunter who wants revenge against the creatures who turned him and killed his family. 

In the last session, the players had made it to the Old Bonegrinder and met the three hags living there. Thanks to a Fifth Nat 1, the hags became hostile because Arazel mentioned how he had a pet dire wolf and the hags thought he was sent by Strahd. 

I told them at the beginning of this one,  “If you can talk your way out of this encounter, I’ll let you level up right now instead of waiting for Friday.”

What the fuck happens right after I say that?

Arazel fucking crits on persuasion and the party is now LEVEL FOUR! HURRAY!

Caleb is dealing with the two sisters upstairs, his gun is mentioned, and then Arazel’s player says, and I quote,

Arazel had also purchased a pastry, and Aeternus ends up charging upstairs and Arazel turns to him and says, "Hey Pebbles, eat this okay?" Aeternus made the con save, so instead of having weird dream visions, he instead felt this weird sense of nostalgia that he cant place his finger on. Seeing the cakes were safe, the rest of the party all pay for a cake themselves and they all. fail. the save.

So they get to fall into a pleasant, dreamlike state, for 1d4+4 hours... and OF COURSE I roll a 4. So eight hours of them being in this trance. Arazel, Leon, and Caleb, all conked the hell out. Which meant Aeternus was alone with this Night Hag who was now cackling. 

And so he asked the witch what was in the cakes, and she simply said “some very rare and exotic ingredients. it is an acquired taste.” aeternus then took many hints, scooped everyone up, and left with Ismark (Kolyana and Ireena were waiting outside in a cart, not trusting that place one bit, but Ismark went in to help guard the party and keep an eye on Caleb.) 

They run back to the cart and Kolyana is asking what happened. Aeternus explains the situation with the cakes, and Kolyana then facepalms. He says,

"You didn't eat any, did you?" "I did, why?" "Those are dream cakes. they're popular in Vallaki -- you'll see why." "I do not dream." "Everyone dreams, my boy. daydreams, plans for the future, or-" "I have nothing to dream about."  The cart goes quiet before Ismark speaks up. "What do you mean?" Aeternus then says, "I remember nothing but war from my past." "A miserable existence, then." "Heh, makes you sound like a barovian," Kolyana says with a snicker. "We're all miserable bastards." 

More silence. 

"You really don't remember anything?" Ismark then asks. "Nothing but war." Aeternus shakes his head. "How old are you?" "... I do not know. I have been wandering for some time, but I know I am quite old." "I don’t remember any wars in our recent history. You don’t seem to be old enough for any of those." "Definitely not," Kolyana agrees. The cart is silent, and Aeternus goes quiet.

Hours pass, and the cart is pulled off to the side of the road. Ireena and Valerie, a Vistana woman they had met, (who owned the cart), go off to build a fire, while the rest stay back in order to wait for the others to come out of their trances. 

When they do awaken, the world is darker. More grim, more miserable. The mists seem to cling to them, and they long to be back in their dreams.

Arazel awakes with a start, drawing out his magic string and wrapping it around Leon's neck while a thin knife hovers at Caleb's throat. Kolyana, Ismark, and Aeternus all stand to try and apprehend him as he asks, "What the HELL happened to me?" "You were dreaming," Aeternus tells him. "We didn’t do anything to you." "Put the weapons away, you're around friends here," Ismark says, his sword half out of its sheath. Slowly, Arazel backs down, checking his wings to see if any feathers are out of place. Boris looks up at him expectantly, and Arazel takes him to the fire as the rest of the party files out of the cart.

They all go and head down to the fireplace, and enjoy a nice thick stew. Some of the vegetables are freshly picked from the lands around them, although they are thick mountain-dwelling plants. They are a bit higher up in elevation, though more surrounded by foothills instead of mountains. 

They enjoy their dinner and Kolyana asks them what they saw in their visions. Leon goes first, recalling his home. recalling the people he loved, the community fostered, everything. It felt warm. It felt safe. But that wasn't here anymore. Kolyana gave him a small reassuring pat on the shoulder before Arazel spoke up.

"I saw my mother." "Your mother?" Aeternus asks. "Okay, well, here's the thing. My mother was this holy angel, and my father was a damned and hated tiefling. And my father kinda dipped on me when i was younger. My mother served a very holy god who didn't want to be sullied with such a sinful abomination," he then gestures to himself, "and so my mum had to leave me." "Wait, wait, your mom left you because her god said so?" Caleb asks. "Well yeah but I mean I get it. if she didn't then she would've lost her powers, and-" "That’s pretty selfish of her." Caleb shrugs. "sorry, man." "Not really. I’m sure any parent would do that." "I can tell you, as a father myself, I would never do that to my children. No matter who the god was. I'm sorry you had to go through that," Kolyana tells him, giving Arazel a meaningful look.

“And what about you, vampire?” the old man asks. “What did you see?”

"I saw my home. I saw the old homestead. I saw my parents, and my siblings. It was nice." Before Kolyana responds, a conspiracy of ravens descends from the sky. one lands on each of Aeternus' shoulders, cawing.  The three Barovians all gasp. 

"What fantastic luck," Kolyana mutters. Arazel is tempted to have Boris pounce on them, but Kolyana quickly says "DO NOT ATTACK THEM! That would bring nothing but doom and misfortune. Ravens are symbols of good luck, not evil. At least not here." 

Arazel shrugs, and tosses a piece of his stew at them. They caw and hop off the giant's shoulders, peck at the food, then flutter off into the night. The party all decides to settle in for the night, and this comes my FAVORITE fucking part of the session;

Dream Chats with Strahd!

(Yes I’m bending the lore a bit but it’s for the rule of cool okay)

I bring each of the players into the Special Corner (Discord call, we have a D&D voice chat and then Special Corner for 1-on-1 with the DM) one by one.

First in was Arazel.

Arazel feels the presence of his patron. He feels a warm, golden glow about him, even if he cannot visualize Sanguinius himself. He soon finds himself within a hall. It seems to be that of a cathedral. Polished stone, nearly gleaming, is under his feet. But everything feels... a bit fuzzed out. Just barely out of focus. He sees a lectern at the end of this great hall, with, what 40k fans would recognize, as the BA symbol, inscribed into it.

And then he hears a very familiar voice, and sees a very familiar figure walk out from behind a pillar.

Familiar dark clothing, familiar face, familiar dark eyes. 

It is Strahd von Zarovich, and he has come for a chat. 

And he doesnt greet arazel with hostility. He says that he is impressed with this place of worship, and that he knows very little about Arazel’s patron. But he would love to learn more about him, and about Arazel himself. Arazel asks “why are you here?”

Strahd takes a sip from his glass before he says, “You and your compatriots all fascinate me. So I want to learn just a little more about you. How you think, what your morality is." He shrugs, and then explains that he does not have too much time to speak. An invitation will be given -- soon, though he does not know when -- and tells him it is within Arazel’s best interests to accept it. He wants to be able to have an open, honest chat with him and his friends.

He also asks that he does not discuss this meeting with anyone. A measure of trust. Arazel agrees, and Strahd disappears.

Next up, Caleb.

Caleb is dreaming of his homestead. He feels grass beneath his feet, but none of his family is here. Everything around him feels fuzzy, blurry. The only crisp image is of the homestead itself. Strahd appears to him as well, coming out of the homestead, and says similar things to what he told Arazel, namely the reason for his arrival and his interest in him and his friends. However, he also remarks on how similar the two of them are, referring to their shared vampiric nature. Caleb says,

"Actually we're probably very different. I think we became who we are through very different ways." 

Strahd agrees, but he offers a solution to Caleb's little bloodthirst-issue, (which luckily has been able to be curbed thanks to Leon being generous), and potentially knowledge about his abilities. Caleb recently gained the ability to be able to shift into bat form, and he thinks he may have other skills locked away.

An invitation is mentioned, along with the same condition. He cannot tell anyone of this meeting.

Caleb, begrudgingly, agrees. Strahd vanishes once more. Interestingly, Strahd does not mention how one of Caleb’s current goals is to go into van Richten’s tower to find the old hunter in order to find a way to kill Strahd. 

But we’ll get to that.

Then we go to Leon.

Leon appears within an old library. The books around him are nothing more than vague shapes, and there is a musty smell from the bookshelves. Ahead of him is a strange device, a piece of machinery made of many different concentric rings, which he realizes must represent the different planes of reality. It slowly moves, casting around shadows as an unknown light source dances around the room. This is a representation of how Tempus views reality and its many potential timelines, he realizes. Just a very, very simple model, but it resembles the one from his own church. 

Enter Strahd, a warm smile on his face.

“I’ve been waiting to speak with you for some time. You and I have much to discuss.”

Leon asks why he is here, and Strahd explains what he had told Caleb and Arazel -- though he also adds he wants to learn a little more about him, here and now. He wants to also extend the offer for Leon to learn more about Strahd himself in a sort of private talk, and expresses interest in learning more about Tempus and Leon's nature and relationship. He asks Leon to tell him a few things, and Leon agrees to tell him a bit about his past -- his life as a soldier, the village he had settled within, how he found Tempus, that sort of stuff. 

Then Leon cuts right to the point, saying, "Why are you really asking me this? I don’t like to associate with bad people."

"Well I wouldn’t call myself bad. I have made my mistakes, and I am no saint, but I’m not a horrible person." Strahd shrugs. "I ask because I’m fascinated by you. By all of you, honestly. You're quite the interesting little crew."

He mentions the invitation, but also gives a different message.

"I know Caleb is going to be going to van Richten's tower. I want you to stay behind in Vallaki when he does. I will send my invitation then. Our conversation will be a little more... private, for lack of a better term, then the one I shall have with all of you."

He gives the same terms -- that Leon cannot tell anyone of this meeting -- which Leon agrees to, and Strahd disappears once more.

Last but not least...

Aeternus.

Aeternus doesn't dream, but his mind does come to a daydreaming-state. He comes to one of the few scenes he remembers. A field, with the rubble of a broken house nearby. Nothing else is clear, or even blurred. It feels like he’s standing on the edge of a vast void.

Strahd appears once more, commenting on how grim this place was. Aeternus is on edge at the appearance of the vampire, but simply replies, "this is all I can remember."

"Oh, I know. All you remember is warfare. But even then, of no clear battle. Just fragments of death and misery. A shame, really." Strahd sighs. "I know of a way for you to begin remembering all you had lost. My libraries may hold some of the answers you seek, as do I."

Aeternus is quiet. Before he speaks, strahd smiles. 

"Petting that wolf made you remember something, didn't it? And the cake you ate? You remember something about a raven, too."

Aeternus is caught way off guard. Strahd has, somehow (rule of cool and plot reasons) gotten into his head. He goes on guard, but Strahd puts his hands up. 

"I can offer answers. I will be sending an invitation, soon. I do not know when. But I need to be able to trust you. Tell no one of this encounter." 

"How can i be able to trust you?" Aeternus responds with a grunt. One hand is on his axe. Strahd chuckles. "Caleb wants to go to van Richten's tower. Go with him. There is something waiting for you there." 

And then he disappears, and that is where the session ended.

#very long post #sorry about that #D&D stories #tales from D&D #moonclaws dm bullshit #i need to come up with a D&D tag #D&D

[benexolence]

Tense (M) pt.1

CEO!Park Jimin x Reader

Word count: 5.4k

Rating = M, F (it was hard not to put fluff in, i’m too soft for chimmy)

SUMMARY: You’ve been subtly teasing your stressed-out boyfriend over the past couple of weeks, and you push him a bit too far at a company dinner, making him want to show you what it’s like to be frustrated.

Warnings: dom!jimin, daddy kink, dirty talk, exhibitionism, degradation, slight-ish possessiveness (bruh IDK), fingering

A/N: There are two parts to this fic! This was originally gonna be a oneshot but it would’ve been MONSTER to post LMFAO but I’ll post pt.2 within the next 2 weeks! Stay tuned :-) ****PART 2 IS OFFICIALLY POSTED! LINK TO PART 2 IS IN MY MASTERLIST!

Jimin had been very tense for the past couple of weeks. Being the CEO of BigHit, there was already a lot riding on him. Recently, his company bought out another company, BT21 and although this transaction would be beneficial for the future of his company, it didn’t necessarily mean that his transition would be smooth. If anything, it was putting a lot of weight on his shoulders, trying to figure out which workers to lay off or what sectors to change entirely, through the means of endless meetings, soon became excruciating. There were so many things to be done, and there wasn’t enough time in the day to complete everything. The tight pressure started to build in his shoulders and his mind as the lack of sleep from early mornings and late nights as the weeks went on. Jimin swore that he began to feel his brain melting.

It didn’t help that he start to see his love less and less. The quality free-time he’d usually spend with you decreased dramatically, turning the salacious sleepovers nearly every weekend into occasional Facetime pillow-talks that would end quickly since he’d almost immediately shut his exhausted eyes once his head hit the soft pillow. He just missed you, so much. Not being able to see you was like trying to substitute ranch for chocolate in a cake and it just didn’t work with him.

At night. Jimin is a needy boy, so destitute that the dreamland that he briefly arrived in every night was scent and taste of the juices that would fall between your thighs as you scream for him to give you more. His mind was clouded with clips of your writhing body, all nice and sweet, just for him. Jimin swore that he’d wake up to your whimpers echoing throughout his bedroom, only to find that you’re not there but his hard-on was painfully present. You couldn’t leave his mind. His lust was overflowing, and he even tried jerking off with his non-dominant hand, nothing worked.

For you, on the other hand, things were going pretty decently. You didn’t have much to complain about; you just got a raise at work, all your old friends were back in town, things were going pretty well for you. So, it was a bit amusing for you to hear all of this happening. You missed him greatly, and you longed to see him, but you were thankfully distracted by the better things happening in your life. You were worried about your boyfriend, but it’s uncommon to hear him whine for you and you felt a bit a pride when he’d tell you about how much he and his dick missed you. So to add to your amusement, you’d send some inappropriate pictures along with detailed texts of how much you desired him. When you went out with your friends, you would take a picture of yourself in a scandalous dress to rile him up a bit for the night, only to take that dress off after the image was sent, then change into something that you were a bit more comfortable in, (without him knowing of course). When Jimin was provoked in such a way, it always ended in ground-breaking sex. You still loved the fact that Jimin was a compassionate lover, it’s just that you didn’t see that dominant side of him very often and sometimes, you needed him to be a little bit rough.

Tonight was the first night that you would see Jimin after such a long time. There was a company dinner to celebrate the end of this chaos, and it was a perfect time to see you. Jimin liked to think of your presence as a gift to himself, for working himself to the bone. Both of you and him were giggling like children all day because it’s been so long and the two of you would finally fill the gnawing hole that’s been heavy on the two hearts. You wanted this night to be perfect, so you spent hours just picking and choosing the color scheme for your outfit deciding to go with a simple and sophisticated approach. Although you wanted Jimin to be the happiest tonight, you felt a throbbing need for something rough as the little devil on your shoulders convinced you to egg him on a bit. You decided to keep the egging to a slight minimum, and you went for the little black dress with a simple set of jewelry and light makeup that gave you a natural look. The dress did wonders to accentuate your curves, and you had an inkling that Jimin might go mad when he sees your outfit. It was perfect for setting off his mood, in the direction you prefer.

Jimin felt that it was crucial that he’d pick you up tonight. It was vital for him to have at least five minutes of alone time with you in the car before you two spent the next few hours with a garden of people he didn’t really care for; he’d probably only be focusing on you anyway. He was also hoping to convince you to let him sleep over for the night, already packing his things for the night because the answer will always be some form of “yes.” Jimin felt that spending these hours with you would melt away all the weight that’s been straining his body. He didn’t care if he was between your thighs or laying by your side, he just wanted to spend some time with you.

Jimin threw his overnight-bag in the backseat of his car and texted you a quick “on my way sweetheart” before rushing himself over to your apartment, almost running a few red-lights because he couldn’t wait any longer. He couldn’t stop smiling; he was excited to see his girl after so many weeks.

It was the same way with you after you got his text, you practically had a face tattoo of a smile. You rushed to the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror to make sure that you looked perfect. As you fixed yourself up in the few minutes you had left, memories of the times where Jimin left you breathless made you excited. Your cheeks became flushed with such crude thoughts led you to think of possible ideas to ensure your demise tonight.

You were pulled back to reality as you heard a knocking at your door. The excitement came back in seconds as you ran to the door and swung it open, to find Jimin looking at you with nothing but pure love. You were in awe by his choices for his appearance tonight. Jimin wore an all-black suit, without a tie, giving a bit of a casual feel. He wore a gold necklace, and he parted his hair so a bit of the center of his forehead being shown.

Both of you took a few seconds to accept the fact that both of you are together again before he quickly grabbed your arm so you’d fall into his arms. Jimin hugged you tightly, almost like he was afraid that if he let go, you would never come back. He buried his face into your neck, and you could feel him smiling.

“I’ve missed you so much” Jimin whispered softly into your neck, leading you to giggle as his breath tickled your skin.

“But I talked to you yesterday” You chuckled softly, thinking about the Facetime call that only lasted three minutes before Jimin started snoring.

“I fell asleep! How in the world does that count?” Jimin started to swing around, with you in his arms, “Did you not miss me? Not only a little bit?”

“Maybe, maybe not. It doesn’t matter because you’re always asleep when I try to talk to you anyway.” You say with a sassy tone before escaping his grasp to turn around and walk further into your apartment, looking to grab your purse.

“Y/N, baby please” Jimin whined as he followed behind you. You could already tell that there was a pout on his face by the tone of his voice. You found your purse, and you started to look through the bag, making sure that you had everything you needed. Before you realize it, Jimin was standing right in front of you, slightly stomping his feet. “Baby, I’m sorry for falling asleep all the time, but that doesn’t mean you get to ignore me.”

Looking at his upset face, you realize that you definitely can’t be bratty right now. He’s too damn cute, and you couldn’t resist it, not after such a long time. You smile at him, “You’re lucky that I have the biggest soft spot for you. I’ll forgive you this time.” But your last few words are meaningless because you’ll always forgive him for anything, leading you to let out a chuckle.

Your laugh was cut short when Jimin suddenly cups the apples of your cheeks, looking at you with appreciation. “Seriously though, I am sorry. You don’t understand how hard it’s been for me, not being able to talk to you. I’ve missed you more than anything.”

Jimin never failed to make you feel loved. There was never a time where you felt unappreciated and unwanted by him because he always did everything in his power to make sure that those thoughts would never cross your mind. Although there has been a lack of presence in the past few weeks, there were no worries that arrived in your mind because he still tried to talk to you, even if his sleepiness won most of the time.

“It’s okay, Jimin. I know that you’ve been busy, so it’s alright. I’ve missed you too.” You spoke softly.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Jimin whispered before pulling you forward to kiss your forehead. He let go of your cheeks, only to slide his hands into yours. He pulled you towards the door, “Now, l wanna get there early so I can sit in the car and shit on the idiots that we’re gonna be near tonight.”

You laughed as the both of you left your apartment and set route to the restaurant.

The car ride was filled with nothing but laughter and joy as you both exchange memories that occurred over the past few weeks. Both you and Jimin felt absolute elation; nothing was better than being in the company of someone you love. Soon, both of you were parked outside of the restaurant, shit-talking about the coworkers that made his life an absolute nightmare over the past couple of weeks. Irritation started to seep into Jimin’s bones as the anger over their actions came to mind. You notice Jimin’s change of tone, and you felt the need to calm the fire that was growing in his mind. You moved your hand to give a calming rub on his bicep, “You don’t have to worry about it now. The past is the past, and now you can focus on the success that’s gonna be rolling your way.”

Jimin looked to your smiling face, but his eyes slowly followed the length of your dress, his pupils dilating in mixed emotions over how noticeable your legs were in the dress. Suddenly, his mind went through to all the frustration he felt with you during your absence; seeing you in such revealing attire, hearing about how much you need him, all the subtle teasing that you’ve been pulling over the past few weeks that would always leave him with an erection. All emotions came racing back to his mind and his cock, making him feel nothing but tense again. The current state of your naked legs started to tease him a bit, Why is she wearing that dress right now? To fucking spite me? God, in the very moment, he just wanted to fucking explode.

His ring-covered hand went straight for your thigh, squeezing the soft skin in a vice-grip. Your eyes went straight to his hand as you gasped at the cold feeling of his rings. You look up to Jimin’s face, only to find the irises of his eyes slowly disappearing to black, mixed with lust and vexation.

His voice comes out low when he initially speaks, “Y/N, that dress--” Jimin takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves from thinking illogically. It’s just a dress. There’s nothing to it. She isn’t trying to pull anything with me. “It looks stunning on you” Jimin plants a smile on his face as he squeezes his grip on your thigh a bit harder, leaving an imprint of his rings. Momentarily, he decided that your teasing would be a topic of discussion for later that evening, it would be such bad timing to discuss something like that right now.

Although you were taken back by the quick change in emotions that you just witnessed, it still didn’t stop your stomach from doing flips from his compliment, knowing that it’s genuine. But what lingered in your mind was the reason for the sudden emotional changes, reasons that you already knew. You could see the tension in his jaw as a vein comes to the surface of his neck, which just sent electricity straight downward. You spoke, “Thank you, Jimin.” It seems as if your plan is working, you had a reassuring thought about how the subtle hints work the best. All you wanted was for him to take you in the car at that moment, you didn’t necessarily want to wait any longer.

There were a few moments of silence before Jimin’s phone buzzed. He pulled his phone out to see one of his favorite colleagues texting him.

[6:03 pm] Kim Taehyung: I know you don’t want to be here, but that doesn’t mean you and Y/N can avoid the dinner by sitting in the car until it’s over.

Confused by Taehyung’s knowledge of his location, Jimin looked up from his phone and searched from outside the window, only to find that his colleague leaning against the car parked right next to him. Jimin got out of the car to greet him, “Thank god that you and Y/N at least here with me to get through this.”

Taehyung chuckled and gave Jimin a quick side hug, “I honestly don’t know how you and I got through this past quarter. I can’t wait to sit with you and see what you do as a consequence for everyone.”

Taehyung was the CFO of the company, but also a life-saver for Jimin for the past few years. Jimin and Taehyung had been very close friends since college, and it’s been an absolute relief for Jimin to have him in the company. Taehyung took more of an emphasis on finance rather than sales, unlike Jimin; which was helpful since there was no competition in success or jealousy in career advances between them. Either way, Taehyung, and Jimin climbing up the career ladder together, eventually landing executive positions in the same corporation.

You got out of the car as well and walk over to the two boys with a smile on your face. You were happy to see Taehyung. “Taehyung! How have you been? It’s been so long!” You gave him a quick hug, and as you let go, you notice Taehyung’s lingering gaze on your legs as he takes hold on both of your hands.

“I’ve been good, Y/N! I don’t think I need to ask you how you’ve been doing since you look lovely tonight.” Taehyung smiles with a toothy grin before letting go of your hands and looking at Jimin, “You gotta be careful Jimin. You might have to keep an eye on Y/N because you don’t wanna lose a girl like her so easily.” Taehyung was always a flirty guy, but he never meant any harm, of course, he just liked to tease Jimin a bit.

Usually, Jimin would joke around about how Taehyung would never end up with anyone but his assistant, Jungkook, but right now, it was not the time for Taehyung to even glance at his girlfriend’s figure for any more seconds. Jimin needed to keep himself control, he needed to stay calm. Jimin joked with a little strain in his voice as you and him starting walking towards the restaurant, “I don’t need to keep an eye on her when you have googly eyes for your assistant. Which by the way, I know you’ve been fucking, I saw the way he looks at your ass.”

“Jungkook looks at everyone’s butt! I saw him looking at your butt the other day! Either way, he’s a man-child, and I’m nurturing him for the real world.” Taehyung raised his voice while running behind the both of you, trying to deny the truth that he’s been trying to hide from everyone.

“Yeah yeah yeah, whatever you say Tae,” You turn towards Taehyung and continued. “We’ll always love you. You don’t have to hide your love for him forever.” You chuckled as you watched Taehyung start yelling nonsense as to how he’s definitely not with Jungkook and how he definitely hasn’t seen him every night for the past three weeks.

Jimin felt a bit of relief when he heard Taehyung’s babbling and your various sayings of “it’s okay, don’t worry.” I’ll be okay. Things will be fine. He reassured himself before all the three of you entered the restaurant and started to greet coworkers.

Dinner was not fine, and things were not okay. For some fucking reason, all male eyes of Jimin’s coworkers were staring at your chest throughout the evening. Jimin swore that he saw his coworker wipe the drool off his chin from staring too long. Not only that, some damn waiter named Hoseok even started fucking flirting with you, right in front of Jimin. It seemed like every male-body who was in your presence eye-fucked you, even with Jimin’s eyes sending fire to anyone who looked lustfully towards your body. Jimin wanted to spank your ass and fuck you on the goddamn dinner table every passing moment, to show everything that you belong to him and only him.

For you, on the other hand, your plan was going smoothly. You noticed the slow transition of Jimin’s mind from neutral to sour. You saw him sending fiery stares straight ahead, losing himself in the flames of his imagination, and you couldn’t help but cheer happily in your mind. But obviously, you couldn’t display your joy to the world. You saw that he barely took a bite of his entree and you decided to act the part as the caring girlfriend for the time being. “Hey honey, is everything okay? You haven’t touched your food.”

Jimin took a deep breath before turning to you, wanting to answer your question with kindness, “Um, yeah baby. It’s alright. I’m just not that hungry right now.” He pulled a quick smile for you before moving his fiery eyes to his plate, slowing moving to eat his food on his plate.

You knew he needed a push, a slight nudge towards the fall that you so desperately needed to feel all over your body. So you decided to start a conversation with Taehyung. It seemed that the boy had a bit too much to drink and you knew that Taehyung is a lot more flirty when he’s tipsy. You spoke with a bit of prep in your voice to the buzzed man across from you, “How are you feeling tonight, Tae? It looks like you’re having a good time.”

Taehyung turned to you with a grin on his face and started to laugh, “Y/N, I always have a good time with you around.” He leaned in and continued to spoke, “Did I tell you that you look lovely tonight?”

You giggle before answering his question, “Yes you did, Tae. You don’t remember?” You reciprocated his actions and moved towards him, so it looks like you’re only focused on him.

“Well, scratch that, because you look fucking ravishing right now.” Taehyung’s baritone voice seemingly got lower than you expected.

“Taehyung!” You started to giggle, even more, exaggerating your actions, “You don’t mean that”

Taehyung leaned in even closer, “Oh darling,” His eyes looking at your body, leaving his eyes to stalk your chest. “I mean every word I’ll ever say to you.” His voice was husky, and it just leaks with danger. This is precisely what you needed. This is the push that Jimin needed.

And you were right because Jimin was fucking boiling with sheer anger. Taehyung called you “ravishing,” he fucking leaned into you, like you didn’t belong to him. And you were just sitting there, taking it. Not even acknowledging the fact that your boyfriend was sitting right next to you, watching the entire thing. Maybe you were doing this on purpose. Perhaps you actually have been fucking with him for the past few weeks. Either way, the only thing that mattered to Jimin is to show that you fucking belong to him.

Once again, you jumped in your seat as the coolness of Jimin’s rings touch gripped your thigh. You felt him squeeze your skin before his thumb starts rubbing gentle circles. You turned to him, and his eyes were trained entirely ahead, engaging a conversation with one of his coworkers. You leaned back into your seat, heavily distracted by the distance between his hand and your clothed core. You took a deep breath to relax before continuing your conversation with Taehyung, but how can you focus when his hand is subtly teasing you under the table?

“Tae, I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink.” You spoke as your mind tried to force on the man ahead of you. But unfortunately for you, Jimin knew what you were doing so his hand decided to follow the direction of your body, sliding underneath your dress. He squeezed again, leading you to squirm slightly in your seat. You tried so hard to listen to Taehyung ramble on about how sober he is, but it felt like there was barely any oxygen in the room at the moment. You started to lean forward again, to look like you’re interested in what he has to say but as soon as you began to move, Jimin’s hand moved to your core, lightly rubbing you through your panties. You yelped in surprise, causing all eyes to move towards you.

“Baby, are you okay?” Jimin sounded so sincere, but he already knew your answer. He started rubbing you a bit harder, causing you to squirm even more in your seat. Your breaths started to shake as you realized how mortifying this situation was; everyone was staring while your boyfriend rubbed your clit in a public restaurant. But somehow, you felt exhilarated at such a display, leading to the coil to tighten in your stomach.

“Yeah, I’m f-fine.” You needed to keep your responses to a minimum. You couldn’t let anyone know the truth behind your dishonest words. You’re not fine. You’re fucking fantastic because Jimin has finally touched you, something you’ve been waiting for a long time.

“Are you sure? You sound a bit anxious.”  Jimin’s fingers moved your panties to the side. His middle finger slipped inside your folds, teasing your hole.

You knew if you opened your mouth, you would start whimpering, so you nodded your head towards Jimin and threw a weary smile on your face. You looked around to find that the eyes of his coworkers were off of you now. Jimin leaned in closer to your ear and spoke, “Baby, you better fucking speak up right now, or I wouldn’t touch you for another month.”

All you wanted to do is whine and let Jimin do sinful acts to your body, but you knew that this side of Jimin wouldn’t be tame unless you listen to his words. “Yes, I’m okay Jimin.” You whispered softly.

You heard Jimin sigh, and it sounded like he was frustrated with your answer. He impulsively pushed his middle finger inside, pumping it at a slow pace. Jimin moved again to your ear, “That’s not my name tonight. Tell me, baby, what’s my name?”

His fingers were going agonizingly slow, but since your body has been so unsatisfied for the past few weeks, the pressure seemed to double. You could barely answer his question without focusing on the sharp sparks that coursing throughout your body. You don’t call Jimin anything else besides loving pet names and his actual name. What could he possibly be asking for?

Before you could think about it any further, Jimin added another finger inside you. A small mewl crawled from your mouth as you leaned towards Jimin, hiding your face in his shoulder. “I-I don’t know.” The build of your impending orgasm was growing faster, leaving your body to be shaking by his side. You were trying so hard, but it’s just so hard when everything is turning you on.

Jimin curled his two fingers to your g-spot, leading you to whine into his dress shirt. Jimin chuckled, happy to see you withering for him so quickly. His voice was stern when he started whispering again, “It seems like you’ve been missing Daddy’s fingers, huh?”

Daddy? He’s never called himself that before. Jimin has never brought that kink up but how does it matter now when he sounds so fucking hot talking to you like that? His fingers start moving faster, and your legs start shaking. He’s curling his fingers with each thrust, and the burning-pleasure is leaving your mind blank. You gotta warn him of how your end is almost near, “D-Daddy, I’m close.”

“Awh baby, you’re close? You like it when Daddy finger-fucks you under the dinner table, with everyone around us?” His words are only bringing you closer to your end, and you were struggling to keep your composure.

“Y-Yes, Daddy” Your voice was shaking, and you look up to Jimin, only to see his eyes filled with nothing but black lust.

“Of course you do. How can you not? A slut like you love everything that’s done to them. Do you even know how dirty you are?” Such a name should irritate you but god, it was sending arousal to your core, and you find yourself whining for him.

My eyes immediately shut in pure paradise, and you started to squirm again when Jimin’s thumb landed back on your naked clit. Jimin’s lips glaze your ear, “Cum for me, right now.”

His tone of voice was deep and stern, which led you to lose control. Your hands quickly covered your face in order to conceal the moans that escaped your mouth as your orgasm sweeps through your body. Jimin continues to rub your swollen nub as you ride it out. You were trying to catch your breath as your face turned away from your hands to Jimin, only to find him smirking.

Suddenly, Jimin grabbed your hands and stood up from his seat, bring you up with him. “I apologize everyone, but it seems that Y/N isn’t feeling too well right now, so I think it’s time for us to take our leave. Y/N wants to stay, but I wouldn’t feel good if we did stay. I’ll see you all at work on Monday.” Jimin waved goodbye to his coworkers while you kept your head down, playing up the “sick” act correctly. You waved to everyone as well as both of you started walking towards the car.  As soon as both of you were outside of the restaurant, Jimin wrapped his arm around your waist, squeezed your ass, and let his hand rest at your hip. As you both walked to the car, you looked up to him. You could see that he was relieved to be done with that dinner and happy to go home with you. Both of you got to the car, and before Jimin could unlock the car, he interrupted by the sight of Taehyung running towards you.

“Y/N!” Taehyung stopped right in front of you and grabbed your hand, whipping you out of Jimin’s hands and in his direction. “Why didn’t you tell me that you weren’t feeling well?” Taehyung murmured as he looked at your small hand in his large one.

“Oh, I didn’t want to worry you, or anyone.” You took your hand out of his and waved it in front of him for reassurance. “Don’t worry about it! I just need some sleep.” You smiled at him, and he leaned in closer to you, like at the dining table.

Taehyung grabbed your hand again, rubbing circles on the back of it before looking up to you. “Call me when you get home, alright? I wanna know that you’re okay.”

You were happy to have a friend like him in your friend, and your smile got brighter at that thought. “Of course! I’ll see you soon.”

The flirty side of him came back as he kissed the back of your hand before letting it go. “I’ll see you soon darling.” Taehyung had a goofy grin again and looked to Jimin, “I’ll see you on Monday man, don’t let your girl get sick or I’ll help her out instead.” He winked at you, and he started to laugh as he began to walk away.

Although you thought this was funny, Jimin did not at all. You only realize this when you saw the several veins in his neck pushing up to his skin. “I’ll see ya later.” He spoke through gritted teeth. You saw his fists tighten so hard that you felt he might actually break his bones. In the years that you’ve been dating Jimin, you’ve never seen him so angry. He unlocked the car and walked over to the passenger side, opening the door for you. He realized that you were frozen in place, so he started to speak in the sweetest tone he can muster up with the anger running through his veins, “Y/N, get in the fucking car right now, or things will get worse.”

You practically bolted to the car seat, and you felt the car shake as Jimin slammed your door shut. He walked over to the driver’s side and sat in the car. He repeated his actions, and he harshly closes his door before putting his hands on the wheel. He exhaled deeply and turned to you, “Tonight, you’re gonna listen to every word I say. Do you understand, sweetheart?” You nodded your head to him, analyzing the strain in his voice. He was frustrated, and you honestly did not expect this level of dominance. “Good girl.” He responded before turning on the car.

You look down to your hands, thinking about what could happen tonight and all the things Jimin might do to you. “Are we going home?” You asked politely, wanting to alleviate his irritation.

Your question had the opposite effect, causing his veins to strain more. His jaw clenched, and he slowly turned to you at a menacing pace, “Baby, did I say that you could talk?” You were about to open your mouth, but Jimin continued, “I don’t wanna hear another word out of your mouth. Got it?” You nodded your head and returned to the position that you were in previously. Jimin’s hand lingered on your thigh and squeezed it to get your attention. “Tell me a safeword.”

A safeword? There were a few moments of silence before you thought of a sinister idea. You thought to yourself, He was already angry, why not triggering him more? You had a sense of where this night will lead to, and you were happy with the results. But a part of you wanted to tease him a bit more.

Jimin spoke once more, “Have you thought of it yet? Tell me.”

You muster up all the confidence you had, and you began, “Yes I did. The safeword is Taehyung.”

You thought that Jimin was angry before, but you were fucked now. You could feel the tension in the air.

His nails dig into your thighs, close to breaking the skin. You could see the stream coming out nostrils as he looked at you with nothing but depravity. You swore that he growled when he spoke, “Okay.”

You were screwed for tonight, but in every perfect way, right?

#benexolence #bts #bts smut #park jimin #jimin smut #bts scenarios #bts park jimin #jimin #jimin imagines #bts jimin smut #park jimin smut #smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jimin x reader #bts imagines #bangtan smut #kim taehyung #bts taehyung #bts v #v #bts ceo au #taehyung

[japanessie]

Hi Shelly! I'm sorry you're feeling blue! I was going to ask that about Taka and Hiro, too, but was worried I'd get too upset but since someone else asked anyway...It just kind of made me wince with hurt for Hiro when a few years ago Taka ranted on instagram about privacy (for his own life, not about his family). Like, where was your voice when your own fans were BULLYING your baby brother or when they posted on a forum after the ONE time Tomohiro finally showed his face, they asked if he was...

[2/3] Adopted! He already had issues being on camera (hasnt been on since, cant blame him). So, Hiroki looks too much like Taka but Tomo doesn’t look enough? They’re his little brothers, I think bullying BOTH Little brothers is when the time to speak up is. I’m not saying the bros cant handle themselves but I just feel Hiro, aside from mfs, has been on his own. It would be nice if his eldest brother took responsibility for his so called “fans” who attack his family and stood up… 

[3/3] Sorry it just hits close to home. I know what it’s like 2 not have your older bro there when u need him most. When he leaves u in a house burning with hatred (i got to hear my parents accuse each other of cheating while my bro was out smoking & drinking. It makes me wonder what Hiroki heard when no one thought he was listening). I dont mean to take it personally or anything, I just feel like Hiroki & I are very similar. It’s why I like mfs. I’m sorry, I just have no one else to talk about it to.

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Hi 😊. I combined your messages together into one for easier reading

First of all I’m sorry for the pain that you personally had to go through. I hope you’re doing okay 🤗. At the same time though, I see uniqueness besides similarities in everybody’s situation. 

1. Someone who is broken can’t be a crutch for someone else

In a traditional family setup in many cultures, even more prominent in Asian cultures, the eldest child is always the one assumed to carry responsibilities of looking after the younger ones. In a family crisis situation, while the younger ones theoretically have the one they can turn to, the eldest child has nobody and is usually left to fend for himself and everybody else. 

Some elder kids have the inner strength and maturity to carry it at young age but some really struggle with it and only develop at a later age. Your brother and Taka seem to be in the latter category. Like Taka, your brother walked out because he was hurting and that was the shortcut way he knew how to surpress it and to stay away from what was troubling him at home. He couldn’t be your pillar when he was broken himself. Just like Taka who took the quick way out and his story had been well documented. 

Also, a lot of times, someone who feels worthless doesn’t understand why anyone would feel hurt to see him walk away. I’m sure Taka himself only fully began to understand NOW, as an adult, the hurt he caused Hiro when he walked away back then. In his mind, he was a loser. Not doing well in school, stressed out over the parents’ marriage breaking up, not getting along with their father, very unhappy and not knowing where his future was heading. Certainly not someone for little Hiro to look up to. How would he look after Hiro when he could barely take care of himself?

* The Moriuchi brothers in those days when they used to be around each other a lot, before OOR moved out of Japan 😊

2. Some people need to pull themselves together first before they can love others

That dark period in Taka’s life was not something he’s proud of. He acknowledges it in interviews and his lyrics. Even OOR members admitted that Taka wasn’t exactly a pleasant person to deal with when they first found him. But once he got his life on track, things fell into places. He made amend with his father and got back the Moriuchi name. While Taka couldn’t give back the years with him that Hiro lost, he let Hiro hang around his friends and be a part of his life back in that way. 

Even Hiro never denied the perks of being Taka’s brother. The most significant was when one of Taka’s close friends K from Pay Money To My Pain befriended Hiro and how that friendship led to the formation of MY FIRST STORY. 

Think again, would Kei Goto a.k.a the late K simply befriend a random underaged high school kid just like that? I highly doubt it 🤔. Hiroki Moriuchi was NOT some random high school kid. K and Taka were buddies and Hiro the high school kid was Taka’s little brother. I doubt Taka would let his little brother hang around someone he didn’t trust. He knew Hiro was in good hands. All these happened only after Taka got his life back on track and was able to be the big brother figure he was meant to be for Hiro.

3. Taka publicly standing up for Hiro would be bad for Hiro’s image

Yes, it would be counter-productive for Taka to do so. You see, the ROOT of the hate and cyber-bullying towards Hiro stemmed from how easy things happened for him because of his family connection. If Taka had spoken out, it would make Hiro appear weak and ultra-dependant on his big brother. 

“Duh! Not only he got a band because he’s Taka brother. Now, he needs to be protected like a baby!” 

Hmm … does that sound good to you? We also need to see things from the haters’ perspective too, you know. Oh, with Papa being a multi-millionaire? Trust me. Hiro would get even less respect if any of his family members had spoken out for him. The bullying might get even worse. 

As for Tomo, anything his family members say would bring unnecessary attention to him. He appeared on TV that one time because of his job at the station. Otherwise, he’s very private. It’s unfair on him if his famous family gives more reasons for the public to scrutinize his life when that’s the last thing he wants. 

4. Being seen publicly as a brave independent fighter would be far more beneficial for Hiro

It worked well for Taka. He only started displaying his bonds with his parents AFTER he had firmly made a name for himself even though they had been on good terms since the early days of OOR. Likewise, Hiro would be less relatable to many fans if he is constantly being taken care of by his more famous and successful family members. Isn’t that the public perception Hiro is still trying hard to break away from? 

Not just the Moriuchi, I have never seen being publicly defended by family members work well for ANY celebrity in the world. It may work for ordinary folks but things work differently for famous people. 

I do support Hiro but I think even his most ardent supporters would agree that he somewhat gives off these “baby” vibes. MFS members themselves seem protective towards him. They let him be mischievious, loud and boisterous with them but they’re always there to hug him when he cries. Therefore, independence from his family would balance that out nicely.

5. Taka made a conscious choice to speak only for himself because he knew any reaction to it would be directed to him and ONLY him

As opposed to Taka speaking out for any of his family members, whom the public might hurl the hate and negative reaction to instead. 

Things just work differently for celebrities. In a way, to minimize the bullying towards their loved ones, staying out of their public battle a lot of times is the better way to go. By not bringing more attention to it. 

Likewise, none of Taka’s family members said anything when Taka had to face a barrage of criticism and angry reactions at the time. The ones who publicly defended him were his friends and peers. Guys like Mah (SiM) and Masato (Coldrain) among some. For celebrities, somehow testimonies from people they have worked with or even strangers they have encountered hold much higher values than family members. 

With their chosen careers, backlash and criticism come with the territory. That’s what their parents want to instill in the two brothers. “You have chosen this path. Learn to deal with it.“

6. Rude fans are rude fans nonetheless

Rude people don’t suddenly become angels just because their idols ask them to. Just look at the backlash against Taka. It was quite brutal. Just like how Hiro got pictures of a woman pooping by his haters, I saw a photo of a “hairy ding dong” for Taka among some, along with truckloads of really scathing words. By his own fans (or should I say “ex-fans"?). If this kind of fans are willing to treat Taka like that just from ONE social media post, then nothing good can come out of it if Taka had said or done anything about Hiro’s haters. The ones who would cheer him would still be the same ones who already support MFS anyway. 

Remember when fans were speculating that OOR’s song Right By Your Side as being dedicated to Hiro? Those who like MFS thought it was a sweet gesture but those who don’t like MFS used it as an excuse to say, “Look! Taka wrote a song for Hiro. Yet he still wants to call Taka his rival. What a low life!”. Yes, I’ve personally seen comments like that. So, see? Whatever Taka does regarding Hiro, mean-spirited people will still find a way to set fire to it.

7. There must be more than meets the eye

Fans went nuts when the brothers wore this pair of pants. I doubt it’s a coincidence that Hiro suddenly is comfortable wearing Taka’s look when he used to be sensitive about being called Taka’s copy before.

But that’s not even something new. in January 2018, Taka posted a photo of himself wearing this Monster’s Inc hoodie at Disneyland. That same month, Hiro was wearing that same Disney hoodie at his 24th birthday party.

Heaven knows what Taka had said to Hiro in private especially after MFS Budokan show 🤔. At the end of the day, they are family and though I also know many families who cut ties from each other, Taka and Hiro clearly are the ones who keep theirs 😉.

2 more cents

I feel that Taka is doing the right thing by staying away from Hiro publicly. Not responding to the negativity surrounding Hiro but still letting fans know that his little brother has his full support.

#reply #my first story #maifasu #マイファス #hiroki moriuchi #takahiro moriuchi #one ok rock

[luxexhomines]

S

Ahhh, thank you guys so much for asking!! I just compiled them all into one post so I don’t clog up your dash with several posts. Here we go! I’m going to tag this as discourse and put a cut because my answers to the letters might not please everyone, aha. It’s long, too. Major spoilers for NDRV3.

S: Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?

Honestly, I’m not super sure at this point. Surprise, surprise, I only just recently finished watching the rest of NDRV3 and started writing for it. And I haven’t thought about tropes that much, though I’m sure I’ve written plenty of them into my writing at some point, even if not posted on here. 

If we’re going to go Danganronpa-centric, as this is my side blog for Danganronpa writing, I’d say that I fall in love with characters that are contradictory and with seemingly bipolar or gray morals despite probably having morals as straight as an arrow myself, i.e. Nagito or Kokichi. The characters playing “straight man” and relating to the reader’s perspective are also my favorite; in a wacky situation, they offer reason and normal reactions, which I would peg Hajime as (maybe Kazuichi, too, although he’s more of a crybaby). In fanfiction, I just love hurt & comfort fics, especially involving–you guessed it–Kokichi. I am particularly partial to the Oumota chapter 5 and chapter 5 trial rewrites, which, lucky for me, both of which are quite often rewritten by spectacular writers.

If we’re going in general, I always end up reading manga with an independent, strong and decisive character that crosses worlds and/or bodies by accident or death and becomes incredibly powerful/influential in the world and dominates over other characters with skills ranging from cooking to fighting. I guess I read a lot of manhua with martial arts or other manga with game aspects to it.Writing-wise, I love reading slow burn fics, even if I haven’t read one in quite some time. 

T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

I have a feeling this is going to go into highly controversial areas, so if you ultra ship Kaito x Maki, please turn away now...

I just hate that “man saves woman” from herself or traumatic past trope. Don’t get me wrong, I love hurt/comfort like I mentioned, but to specify, what I mean is when a strong and independent woman needs saving by a man. I realize Maki has a lot of issues from her past as an assassin and that Kaito is a viable, good option for helping her out and facing those issues, but the fact of him being a man and the way he just swoops in and fixes things forcefully by pulling her along for training just irks me. And before you ask, yes, if Kaede did it instead as a woman I would have less of a problem with it, even if I don’t like that somehow after a couple days of training together Maki somehow is better able to get along with others and most notably Shuichi despite having spent the previous entire time cooped up in her Ultimate room alone, is willing to use her experience as an assassin to help out with the investigation when she just walked out in the past, etc. Problems from a past like that would never be so easily faced in reality; people and their minds are much more stubborn than we’d like to think, too. 

In general, I am also highly averse to the Women in Refrigerators trope. To some extent, I feel that Kaede fits this trope, as a.) she is an important, pivotal, incredibly fleshed out female character and even the initial protagonist of ndrv3, b.) she dies arbitrarily for a murder she did not commit, c.) a big part of her death is written into Shuichi’s character development for making him grow as the protagonist (he sheds the cap, faces the truth, and the memory of Kaede’s last wishes serves as his support to reveal the truth several times in trial), and of course, d.) her death in the execution is grotesque as befitting of a Danganronpa execution. Kaede deserved so. much. more.

There are probably more out there, but I won’t mention them for the sake of length & time. 

U: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

Okay! So don’t hate me for this, but I haven’t been really keeping up a bunch with fanfiction writers or specific ones that much. It just hasn’t ever been a habit of mine in the past to follow one writer–ironic, I know. There’s one that immediately comes to mind, but she’s not part of the Danganronpa fandom, so unless someone asks, I’ll leave her out of it. However, there are a couple of writers that I recently discovered through the Oumota weekend event and which I follow on my main blog, and I thoroughly enjoy reading their work. Their work also contains mentions of NDRV3 spoilers!

1. @kirastrations

I recently reblogged her work on this blog because I have so much love for the Oumota fic she wrote (which deserves more love!). It’s called One by One, One After Another, and I simply adore the way she writes Kaito’s character and experiences with the other characters throughout the game and the overarching feeling that comes across as a result of the situation and what ensues. The diction choices she makes is absolute art; I see the imagery so clearly in my head, and not a single word of hers is wasted. It’s concise while being aptly and most beautifully descriptive. Even though I’m not a huge fan of Kaito, the way she writes him and his actions make me love him. I would describe the work as a futile yet desperate and exquisite struggling, an embodiment of angst that is so beautifully painful that it appears to be an illusion. I haven’t had a chance to check out other works from her just yet, but that’s on my to-do list!

2. @golden-redhead

I love, love, love their work too. They recently posted Lavender, a Kirumi x Kaede (Tojomatsu? Kaerumi? Kirumatsu?) work for femslash Feb, and it is a post-reality Virtual AU short fic. The way they write the interaction between Kirumi and Kaede offers such a delicate, carefully constructed image and story while creating some tension between the two. They also format the story with Kirumi’s thoughts in a simple and straightforward way that is just so delicious to read. Aspects of Kirumi explored are small things that unravel into a bigger statement about her character and the nature of the killing game and the impact it has left on her. It reminds me of the way a player might gently stack up a house of cards–attentively, with a sharp eye and feel. 

3. @starlightwritesalie

They wrote these two Oumota fics for the weekend that I fell in love with, especially the one for Day 1: Heroes/Villains. Sometimes when living in the world of Danganronpa, you forget that these tragic situations and the killing game are experienced, in essence, by children. You can argue that they’re older than high schoolers for the first two games, but mentally they are still high schoolers, and let’s face it–a couple years above the legal age of being an adult in America, 18, can hardly be counted as an adult, either. They reminded me of that sickening fact so poetically yet bluntly, and the story they write only serves as a further reminder of that fact. They write statements about the situation and how the pair act in the situation that are so agonizing yet irrefutable–as is the situation that they’re both trapped in. The ending is so unbearably cruel, packed with pain, but the way they create it is so decisively soft and snatches away my breath with the truth at the heart of the game, the situation. 

So there you have it! Sorry that my answers are so long... I have too much to say, and especially about the people whom I adore. Since it said to pick 3, I didn’t get to include these two, but I also love aroseandapen and mystic-mints dearly. If you ask, I’ll write a whole paragraph on why I love them, too, although I suspect by this time you all are getting rather tired of all my talking, haha. I also didn’t include imagines blogs, but if you’re curious, feel free to ask about that since I am still kind of a imagines blog! I guess at this point I’m kind of a fusion of an imagines blog and normal fanfiction writing blog.

Thanks for asking, and if you have any more questions, feel free to shoot an ask!

#ask #anon #ask game #writing ask game #lux answers #lux speaks #discourse #not imagines #not writing #ndrv3 spoilers #drv3 spoilers #v3 spoilers #danganronpa spoilers #controversial #ask away if you have any more questions! I will always answer! #luxexhomines #astrogirl2003

[v-le]

Kmusic: My artists in 4 months

Foreword: PHEW this one took a while.... but I have really had so much on my mind lately that i knew i just HAD to churn this one out asap... I also would’ve tried to include videos rather than images but it’s a pain in the butt... I guess my vids will be top secret for now hehe. But really. a true blessing, these 4 months. Ah, I still really cant believe it..

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If you were to ask me how I felt about my first semester at Yonsei and simply the past 4 months in Korea, from August 21st to December 23rd, I would probably just emphasize how grateful I am. But to narrow down this deep affection for all the happenings, I would have to do so in a music context. It is such a fascinating and seemingly mundane thing to go on about: Why does my music mean what it means to me to this day? How have those values shaped my experiences in Korea so far? What does it mean for me going forward? These are questions I want to ask myself, reflect upon, and continue to explore as I await to begin another journey in Korea once again.

If I rewind to when I first started listening to Korean music, it would be when I was… I don’t even know. I was exposed to it since I was about 7 or 8 years old, when my sister was sucked into the very beginnings of OG K-pop: Wonder Girls, Big Bang, 2NE1, Super Junior, SNSD, SHINee, you name ‘em all. I’ve talked about this a lot, but during those days I was never particularly interested in that side of music. It didn’t make much sense to me and it just sounded mreh. But after several years of this exposure, I fell into my own K-pop obsession-hole starting with LEDApple, a very unassuming, catchy-music-making band. I was in it for the music. At first.

Okay, now fast forward past my kpop era: you can read all about it in my very extensive post from about a year ago here. But yes, lets leave that chunk of my life behind and think about where I stand from a “music maturation” perspective. Right here. Right now.

I cannot pinpoint the exact moment or day or time in which I fell into the “deeper” side of Korean music. I am pretty certain that it simply occurred naturally, gradually. What I know for a fact is that I owe so much of myself to my music. At any given point in my life thus far, my music has defined a large portion of my identity: it really does mean a lot to me. I am constantly listening to music. To narrow this down into my current self’s context, my music mostly consists of Roy Kim, Sam Kim, DAY6, Kim Feel, Fromm, Jung Sewoon, Eddy Kim, Kwon Jin Ah, and many many many others.

These artists, the music that they make, is not K-pop. It never will be. I don’t care what those stupid Spotify playlists call some of the songs from these musicians, but they are not and never will be K-pop. (At most DAY6 could come closest to fitting). My discovery of each and every one of these artists varies from person to person of course, but most of my sentiments remain the same all throughout. I would give my everything for these people. But I want to make it very very very clear: it is not necessarily these PEOPLE, these faces, these appearances, these artists themselves that I am oh-so enthusiastic about. It is their voice & music. That is honestly all it really comes down to at the end of day. It is and has always been about the music.

I owe my deep appreciation for my music to several various factors ranging from emotionally & mentally detached parents & family, my somewhat introverted personality, and my incessantly over-analytical mindset. However, what exactly constitutes this deep appreciation is what I want to explore. A certain fact is that I hated high school. As I grew up through the ages of 13 to 17, I completely despised the American public education system that was high school. Without getting into the complex details about my community that was the heart of Silicon Valley and the various cultural pushes, I just have to say that high school felt like a sort of mental torture for me.

And during all those times, when I needed it the most, when I felt so completely lost, when I felt like no one would listen to me, nothing could console my distressed heart and mind, I always fell back to many of those artists listed above. Particularly to Roy and Sam. I owe them SO MUCH. They literally changed my life.

Home. 영원한 ��� 없지만. Your Song. These three songs, my life songs. Their lyrics literally saved my life. They mean everything to me. Without these songs from Roy & Sam, I would not be where I am today.

All my artists that I mentioned make their own music. They write, compose, produce, everything. They are the true masters of their voices (see, not K-pop). And so, when I listen to them, when I absorb their voices & melodies, I can sometimes really feel their sincerity, their yearning. I am so thankful for what they have produced for this world and for my ears to hear. However, within the past 4 months, I got to see, know, understand, and FEEL these artists on a whole new level.

In chronological order, here is a list of the artists I saw live &/or in person during my time in Korea thus far:

08/31 Roy Kim & Son Seungyeon @ Picnic Concert

09/01 Monogram, Baek Yerin, Kwak Jineon, Paul Kim, Bol4, Crush, Urban Zakapa @ Someday Festival (Day 1)

09/02 Fromm, Jo Hyunah, Jung Sewoon, Roy Kim, Yong Junhyung & Yang Yoseob, K. Will @ Someday Festival (Day 2)

09/08 DAY6 @ You Made My Day Fanmeeting

09/20 Roy Kim @ SNU Fall Festival

11/02 Roy Kim & Kim Haon @ Daellim Univ. Halloween Festival

11/04 Nam Woohyun (& Jang Dongwoo, Kim Sunggyu, Lee Sungyeol) @ 식목일 (Day 3)

11/10 Fromm @ Seoul Music Forum Mini Concert & Free Fansigning

11/11 Eddy Kim @ Miles Apart Album Fansigning

11/22 Sam Kim @ "Sun And Moon" 1st Album Release Showcase

12/01 Sam Kim @ "Sun And Moon" 1st Album Fansigning

12/09 Fromm @ "Midnight Candy" Mini Album Release Concert

12/16 Roy Kim @ ROchestra Live Tour 2018 (Seoul Day 2)

12/21 Sam Kim @ Lotte Tower World Park Christmas Busking

12/22 DAY6 @ "The Present" Christmas Special Concert (Day 1)

Breakdown:

Free: 5 events

Paid Tix: 6 events

Album Purchase & Application: 4 events

🌹 Roy Kim: 5 times

🌚 Sam Kim: 3 times

🌓 Fromm: 3 times

🎸 DAY6: 2 times

As an avid fan of many of these artists for YEARS, like Infinite for 8 years, Roy for 5, Sam since his debut in Apr. 2016, DAY6 since their debut in Sept. 2015, Fromm for over 4 years, Eddy for over 5 years, etc etc. I NEVER thought I would actually get to see or hear these people live. Okay, granted I saw DAY6 live back in Oct. 2017 as well as Sam & the entire Antenna fam in Sept. 2017, both in LA. But doing 3 fansignings????? Meeting and talking with Fromm, Eddy Kim, AND Sam Kim???? Seeing Roy FIVE TIMES??????????? Three times for FREE, once at a festival, and then even being able to go his end-of-the-year solo concert???????? Y’all…. It was literally a dream come true. A stroke of luck tenfold. Twelvefold. I saw at least one treasured artist a total of fifteen times. Whether it was at a college busking event, the Someday music festival, a fansigning, a fanmeeting, or even a solo concert. I was somehow there.

Seeing Roy live was something I thought I would never ever ever in my lifetime get to do. As I explained in my 1st semester wrap-up post found here, Roy’s situation with school made my hopes seem very bleak from the get-go. But still, my luck persisted 5 times throughout. I almost, nearly, COMPLETELY failed to acquire a ticket for his ROchestra solo concert, Seoul Day 2 show. It was probably the most energy-draining, stressful, painful and TERRIBLE ticketing experience I have ever experienced. And trust me, I’ve done lots of ticketing before (unfortunately). But after 1 hour of staying glued to that PC bang computer screen, I managed. And I went. And maybe I’ll have to do a separate post for it, but Roy Kim’s concert on December 16th, 2018, was the best concert I have ever been to in my life. Easily. It was so breath-taking.

But yes, enough with Roy. Fromm is my ultimate indie goddess and she has a charm that is so indescribably perfect. She decided to release a mini album over a year since her last one, in the middle of November while I was there and I wanted to DIE. It was suchhhhh a solid release, and I even got to attend a free fansigning with her as well for her solo concert for the album release. I LOVE her cheeky personality so much. And she really is just sooooo kind. I couldn’t have much of a conversation with her due to the time constraint, but I at least got to snap a quick selfie heh (which i wont exposed bc privacy ya feel??). Her solo concert was gorgeous in every single way; I honestly would be willing to pay any price to go to it again in a heartbeat. Even though it was for her “Midnight Candy” album release, it was basically a Fromm discography concert because she sang EVERYTHING and I was THIS close to wanting to cry because I just felt so grateful & happy in those moments. I love her I really do. Ah, also, 2 out of the 3 times I saw her, I wrote to her & posted on Instagram and she liked both posts for me :”).

Sam…. My luck with Sam was out of this world honestly…. I still get goosebumps thinking about how blessed I was to see Sam 3 times, 2 times in very special instances. First off. He announced the release of his FIRST FULL album after a TWO YEAR & A HALF HIATUS. Y’all. This boy hadn’t released anything for 2.5 entire years since his debut and then suddenly WHAM he does it. Somehow right when I was in Korea. AH… I still….. I’m still screaming inside. I screamed aloud in my room for a good 5 minutes straight when I first saw the news, and yes, to this day I am still screaming. His three pre-release tracks were GORGEOUS & Sun And Moon, track 1, literally brought me to tears without even trying. I had been missing his voice and presence for so long…

And then, for the full album release, Antenna announced a post in which if you pre-order his album when it comes out & email the Antenna staff with the receipt showing proof, you will be put in a drawing to attend his live showcase on the night of its release. OHMYGOSH. I knew I had to do it. I struggled a little bit & even felt like I was doing everything so untimely, but I am SO blessed that I really was able to order & pay for it, shoot Antenna an email real quick, and then nervously await my results for like a week. That one Friday the results were to be emailed out, I remembering feeling extremely anxious all throughout the day. I desperately wanted to go…. And at 6:00PM…. I got the email!!!!! I was literally shaking, hands & knees trembling and everything. I actually got invited to the ‘Sun And Moon’ 1st Album Showcase!!! Y’all!!! It was so amazing. It was the night before I had to leave to Taiwan early in the morning so it was quite stressful, but still!!!!! I felt so honored to be there that night: the venue was extremely intimate and Sam was soooososoooo gooooddd and the tracks he sang were sooo beautiful and just… everything about it was like a dream. I was truly blessed.

A week later…. Antenna announced Sam’s first FANSIGNING & once again I was overwhelmed with this “OMG I WANT TO GO, but how, should I really, but what about….??”. It was a physical album-purchase-based application process which means I had to go to this specific bookstore in Gangnam, buy x-amount of albums, and based on that amount, my name will be put into a drawing that many times. Very basic fansigning grounds. I already pre-ordered his album for the showcase, so I honestly didn’t really need another one… but I decided to test my luck & just purchase 1 measly album & see if that ONE album will help me get chosen. And o boy. I GOT IN :”)). When I saw my name on that list in the official fancafe post, I couldn’t believe it….

On the day of the fansigning which was happening inside a mall, starting at a certain time I was able to walk in and choose a random number from 1-100 and since I arrived early, I got to choose pretty early as well. When I saw my number I literally gasped aloud: #7. I know it’s a corny & cliché favorite number but only bc infinite ok. Being #7 meant that I literally say FRONT & CENTER of the stage…not even stage. There wasn’t a stage... it was just an open area. My turn came around very quickly because I was early and let’s just say I was a fking mess, repeating thank you over and over & literally, incessantly telling him how thankful I am for his music and how grateful that after all that time he took to came back, he came right when I was in Korea and how I was at Antenna in LA & his showcase too and thank you thank you, yadda yadda. Yeah…..I suck at these things I really do. Then, at the end of it all, he took a picture with the crowd of fans and ended up sitting RIGHT NEXT TO ME LMAOOOOOOO. Okay here is a picture of maybe my biggest life accomplishment??? jk but no rly LOL.

look ma, i made it :”)

But really, the fact that I actually got to talk to Sam & just try to relay all my thanks that I have been owing to him for many years… wow… I’m still in shock and I am just so eternally thankful. I used to think to myself “damn, I wish I could talk to Sam one day” and damn…. I really did do it…

Eddy Kim was also another meeting that I could have only dreamed of before coming to Korea… His last release was 4 goddamn years ago oh my gosh… This fansign application was not a random drawing like Sam’s but just a “buy his album at this bookstore & u get in” sort of thing. To be honest I could blatantly tell that Eddy’s popularity is definitely not as comparable to the other artists that I cherish & I was quite shocked by this revelation. I knew for sure in America, who the hell would ever know him. But even in Korea, he seemed… just really not that well-known, especially from a music perspective. It was interesting and even a little disheartening to see. He was very kind & cutely impressed with my Korean skills and we literally just talked in a bunch of Konglish & once again I just kept repeating how thankful I was for his music in my life. How I waited for so long and his release literally matched up with my time there as well. Even though I never got to hear Eddy sing live, I am more than happy with the fact that I simply got to chat with him & relay my heart as best as possible.

After doing 3 full fansignings I have fully realized that as grateful for the opportunities I am, they are so difficult and stressful… To be given such a short amount of time to spill out my heart is essentially impossible for me LOL. I’d rather much LOVE to just to sit down with these artists not to fangirl or cry, but to have a real, genuine conversation about their music and why it holds so much sentiment for me. I would love to ask questions about their music and I would love to share with them how much it means me & why I am so thankful at the end of the day. That’s what I really wish I could do. Because even as I hurriedly expressed my countless thanks and probably sounded like a hot mess, I feel like I still just came off as a surface-level fan saying their thanks. But noo! In reality, I just wanted to relay how much their music means to me (I literally just typed this wow repetition is gr8). Which I feel like I really couldn’t do properly… I couldn’t get my heart across all the way ☹ but it’s okay because as I’ve been repeating, I am infinitely thankful nonetheless.

My first DAY6 event, their 3rd year anniversary 1st fanmeeting, was a bit of a flop for me simply because they talked wayyyyy to much & played stupid games & everything… and it was cute, but not what I was there for. I kinda wished I heard more of them singing, but it’s okay. In no way am I undermining this monumental day because I know it meant a lot to the boys & fans collectively. Jae could not participate due to health reasons & it definitely put a huge damper on the entire atmosphere, but the members tried their best and the entire audience even consistently sang aloud all of Jae’s parts during the songs when his voice was not there. They also sang a never-before-released track with Jae and they all just cried a bunch and me, sitting there, watching those light-wrist-band-thingies glow & beam & shine in-sync with the music, all sorts of colors, in a massive wave of lights & fanchants & music sewn together… wow it was honestly stunning & one of the most awesome spectacles I’ve ever experienced. Korean fans are really something else….

Speaking of which, attending 15 events during my 4 months there taught me many things about Korean concerts & fans that I find so extremely fascinating.

For most concerts, whether they are super hype-y & K-pop-y or a ballad one with minimal need for movement, when there are seats, fans with stay seated for the most part. In America, I feel like all fans tend to automatically stand (for basically all K-pop acts) regardless of the seating. But in Korea, at my experiences with DAY6 in particular (I also have heard that BTS in Seoul was the same), fans stayed sitting basically all throughout. The most like bodily movements they require would be the waving of their lightsticks. It was honestly pretty refreshing to see a generally calm & collected audience, at least where there was seating.

The fanchants are out of this world !!!!! Especially for the 2 times I saw DAY6, the fans were so on point with their fanchants: they were loud and clear and crisp AND THEY MATCHED WITH THE LIGHTS ON THEIR WRISTBANDS AND EVERYTHING wow was that so cool to see… The fans are super in unison & it honestly adds such a new level of energy to the experience.

SINGING !! Of course, since all these fans are Korean, they can actually sing all of these songs at concerts, unparalleled to international fans lol. One really cool moment at DAY6 that I will probably remember forever simply because this song is gorgeous & means a lot to me… but at day 1 of DAY6’s ‘The Present’ xmas concert series, Wonpil said “We’ve been on world tour for a while now and I’ve been wanting to try this out… if I play this song, can you sing for me?” and of course we all unconditionally said yes. And he started to play 그렇더라고요 on the keyboard & the ENTIRE AUDIENCE caught on immediately & we all sang the entire intro & first verse together in unison, as loud as we could, as the members joined in one by one w/ their own instruments, just watching us as we SANG FOR THEM. It was so cute & we even did it again with 장난 아닌데. This sort of stuff…. Wow…. Can only really happen at a domestic concert, which was honestly so so so beautiful. I LOVED IT!!!

No crazy, constant screaming during every part of the performance. Fans in Korea honestly only scream when necessary… ya feel? Sometimes at concerts, I feel like fans are just screaming at the top of the lungs the entire time, during every second of a song. But Korean fans chant when there is a chant, and cheer & scream when it really fits the situation. I really liked this more toned-down atmosphere from the Korean audiences.

I think that’s all I can really narrow down from my various experiences at Korean concerts compared to the ones in America… It really is quite different though, and I feel so honored to have witnessed this comparison countless times. I am really just honored to be there at those moments in general.

Which brings back around to this… upgraded level of connection towards my artists. After seeing so many of them in person and more than once for that matter, when listening to their music now… something definitely sounds different. When I listened to these artists before I saw them right in front of my eyes, their real, authentic voices blasting into my ears, I still felt moved, I still felt goosebumps, choked up, a bulging affection sometimes. And not that I have lost those feelings, no, definitely not. Now… now, when I listen to these artists through my earbuds or through my laptop… I can literally hear them in my ear. Does that even make sense? Well, duh… of course I can hear them. But like… it’s like… I can hear them on a much more intimate level than ever before. Now, I can really imagine & sense these voices in my head. I can pick up the sound of their breaths, picture their expressions, and really just HEAR their voices as if they were physically singing into my ear right there in that moment, in person. It’s such a peculiar and special and unique feeling that is honestly so hard to describe with just words…

But to be honest like… to this day I still cannot wrap my head around everything. I can barely count and keep track of all the artists I saw and when I saw them and what they sang. I feel like SO MUCH happened that my mind can barely grasp it all, as much as it wants to do so so badly… I still can barely comprehend it… years ago I would cry to Sam Kim, ponder how amazing he would be live… and then literally somehow, he sang two songs like 7 feet in front of me, and even sat right next to me. I thought Fromm was a goddess from another world: but I somehow got to talk to her & even take a selfie?? What?? I thought the world would never let me see Roy who always has his school life to manage as well…. But I got to see him live 5 times?? And even go to his solo concert?? WHAT??????? HOW????????? YOU GUYS, I could honestly go on and on and on because it still all feels like a dream…

In particular with Roy Kim… I say this to myself all the time, the irony is just… wow. Who would’ve known that after years of watching countless fancams, effortlessly memorizing his scarce yet existent fanchants, also memorizing set-lists without even trying, becoming all-too-familiar with things like the way he talks, addresses the crowd, sings specific songs, even all the way down to the way he does adlibs for certain songs… I unknowingly picked up & knew these performance aspects SO WELL through pure admiration, enthusiasm and just LOVE for every song he sings. And who would’ve known, that years later, I would have my very own fancams to cry over. After years of literally watching almost EVERY fancam of him on youtube, at all the various events he performed at, some years more frequently than others, today I can proudly say that I have my very own fancams of him, too. Ohmygosh, it’s still so hard for me to believe…

It really just….. *breathes deeply & tries to recollect self for the 24980164th time*…. It just goes to show… No, okay I don’t really know what it goes to show… But one thing is a fact: loving, cherishing, being thankful for, dedicating so much of my emotional & mental strength towards these seemingly-no-one artists has paid off tenfold. No, billionfold. I don’t even know. I just…. I just never thought I could do and see and hear and experience the things that I did. Never. These people…. These people have given me so much, and although I tucked them deep into the folds of my heart for years, I never thought I could truly open up these treasured feelings one day & TRULY support them with my very own eyes & ears & heart. IN person. I am just so so so blessed. So thankful. Really. Always.

Now, it’s time to bring myself to reality & to think about what this means for me going forward. I don’t want to believe in my passion for my music as a phase: Infinite & all things K-pop wasn’t simply a phase for me. It literally was a maturation, a self-realization, a loss of support for the things I never really knew or understood until time started to pass. I don’t think I grew out of K-pop. I think I simply grew with K-pop & got to understand more about it. And with that understanding came a change of heart. Which is literally the title of my post from years ago: “why I fell out of love with K-pop”. It’s not just “Oh, I am older now. So, I don’t want to like this seemingly childish stuff”. No, it was never about K-pop’s image or whatever. I can’t emphasize more, but it always comes down to the music for me.

Infinite has been and is a piece of my life that I will never forget. A piece of my life that has literally brought me to where I am today. I sit here, with my experiences and knowledge and feelings, in part, due to Infinite. I can guarantee anyone that much. And so, no, they really weren’t just a phase. Things change, people grow older, time flows. That’s just how it works. Does my heart ache over old K-pop like every day? Hell yeah it does LOL. But there’s nothing I can do about it. I can only thank old & 2nd-gen K-pop for the amazing memories that it has given me.

And so, with my music and my artists today, is this all a phase? Will I stop being as enthusiastic years later, like I did with Infinite? You see, with Infinite, I was always apprehensive. At the age of 12, I KNEW that time would eventually take its toll & my blatant love would not necessarily transcend the years that will drag on in the future. But that never made my appreciation for them dim: it only grew stronger as the days went by. I think I am always apprehensive. I think I always fear losing the feelings that I feel with great passion & love at this moment in time. Just as Roy says, 영원한 건 없지만. Nothing lasts forever (but...). I literally think about this all the time. It is such an important concept to me, and it is how I motivate myself to be thankful for everything and everyone and to just take things one step at a time. And so, to really answer my question: is this all just a phase?

I really, honestly, hope… No, I just think not. I really do not think so. At the age of say, 24, five years from now, will I still be loving Roy & Sam & DAY6 & Fromm & everyone else? I really honestly hope so. For as long as they can make music, I can keep loving them, right? Just as Infinite has done since I was 11, 8 years ago, up until today, I firmly believe that my artists can continue this long-lasting impression on my life. They instill a sort of magic & sentiment in my life that almost nothing else in this world can do for me. And for that, I will stay grateful for & only hope for the best.

Roy is currently back in school right now, finishing up his last semester before he finally gets to graduate! I am excited and proud and a bit sad all at the same time. But honestly, it really just comes down to the humanness of these people. When I first saw Infinite back in 2013 as a lil 14 year-old, I guess you could say I was starstruck. I was like “that’s them??!?? Those dudes ive spent countless hours watching through the computer screen?????? THEY ARE RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF ME?”. I had similar thoughts at the LA K-pop Festival in Apr. 2014 when I saw many many many of the big, og k-pop groups at that time. It was hard to believe that these people are real. I would say that my experience with the “With Antenna” in LA concert back in Sept. 2017 made me come to this important realization. That was the first concert where I actually spent the entire time sitting down and just listening. Listening to these wonderful musicians playing their instruments & singing gorgeous songs & just absorbing all that godly magic in the air at that place in time.

I really got to feel how human artists are at the end of the day. K-pop is always built up to be this larger-than-life dynamic, but real artists… No, they’re so much more different. They are simply people, like you and me, with a passion for their music & they wish to share that passion with the rest of the world. That’s it. The sincerity & genuineness that goes into my artists’ music can literally be felt from all the way across the world, just through a few audio snippets, fancams, and grainy Instagram videos. And that is seriously so beautiful. They are so amazing at what they do, they truly are.

Roy’s last two songs from 2018 were purely love song ballads, and I am not complaining or anything. As solid and classic as these tracks were, I still miss that acoustic, healing tone from him. Before he left for school again, he mentioned several times that he wants to come back with music that will console listeners. I was honestly so genuinely happy to hear this. He knows, he honestly, really does. He has even said it before, but he knows that his music can literally lift people back up from the dead. He wants to do that for them. For you and me, who struggle in life when the going gets rough, he wants to be of some sort of help, no matter how minuscule. He knows, he really does. And that is just so beautiful. I am so proud of him & I can’t wait to see what he will have in store for us in the coming months (after his grad, that is).

To all my artists that made these 4 months feel like a literal dream: Thank you so much from the bottom of my heart. Sincerely. Thank you. Always.

늘 고마워요.

#korean music #roy kim #rochestra #sam kim #sun and moon #fromm #midnight candy #day6 #infinite #woohyun #eddy kim #am i missing anyone #prolly am #sigh i still cant #im so so so blessed #thank you for everything #ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

[thornsuntitledtrash]

old art of mine, been redoing stuff and stuff. I’ll post some of the old stuff with the new stuff. I have saved drawings all over my room and computer.

Surface life

    Image 1; Red walked into his favorite bar for a much needed drink and finds a new face. Sitting on the bar stole was a woman, drinking shots left and right. She pause for a moment. pulls out a hand full of crushed $20′s and slams them on the bar table.

“6 more, please and thank you.” a little loader then what was intended. Chillby turned his head.

Chillby look at her and sighed, “....As I said before, I cant leave so many drinks on the bar top....but i will take your money. ”Chillby smiled and took the money and began making her drink.

“ugh fine, just easier to line them up and drink it with out waiting for the next one.” She said in a drunk whisper. She lean back a bit and closed her eyes.

Red sat down on his stole. The bar was slow tonight, a few customers here and there. Even a few humans in the far back table. Which is rare, but if they have the cash Chillby will gladly take it. As long as their not starting trouble. This being a monster bar and all. You get the Dumbest humans making the Stupidest  comments. Some raciest some borderline looking for a fight.

Chillby walks by and passes the woman her drink and walks up to Red, giving him his mustered without even asking.

“Hehe Thanks Chillby, been just die-en for a drink.” Red smiles and starts to drink. He hears a small snort from the woman two seats across from him. Her free hand holding her face head turned away, blocking his view of her. Chillby saying nothing walks off to attended to other customers. Clearly not in the mood tonight. Red smiles. He will leave Chillby be for now. He found a new distraction for the night.

He eyed the woman, dirty blond hair. She was a little on the short side. 5′2 or 5′3 maybe, but every human is short compared to him. She had on a gray button top with no sleeves, and a large magenta colored sweater that started at her upper arms going well over her hands and ending along her hips. To him it looked like on of those sweater dresses. Or it could be on XXXL sweater, either way she looked good. Her legs were long and curvy, covered in black knee high socks.  Red whistled to himself. ‘Nice’. He is a leg man, and those are some nice legs. Head still turned away from him but now looking at her drink. He seen a few good looking human woman. Though none would give him the time of day. Which is no skin off his nose. He-he!. But this Chick looked different, body wise.  She gave off the feeling, ‘ I don’t care. Leave me to my drink. Don’t bother me. ’ type of feeling. Not in a real rude way either. Also there was something about her. Something that he couldn’t put his finger on about her. She seem different from the humans across the bar. If anything she seem more similar to Monsters then human.

Come to think about it’s not the first time he had this same feel before with a human. Walking down the street he would past someone and not really paying much attention think it was a Monster but then turn and see a human. He shrugged it off and go about his way. Another time would be when he and Boss was shopping in a isle of can goods there was a spill. Chill Sauce, I think. Boss yelled that there was filth in the Isle. 3 seconds we both felt something, magic in the air. Boss thought it was an attack and was preparing his own attack so was he. We turned to see a human Employee run over and pause she said, “what spill?”. Boss pointed to where the spill was and there was none. The next Isle over someone yell back, ”Sorry!”.... but how did they get to the spill past us to the next Isle over?. We went to the next Isle and saw two humans talking, a Man scolding a child about being more careful when holding glass jars. Boss walked off making a comment on at least these humans have cleaning standers. Red followed thinking nothing of it after that.

Taking a big gulp of is mustered, Red looked at the woman finishing off her 2 out of 3 colorful shots. taping the last 1 with her finger. He decided. he wanted her attention. He didn’t know why. Maybe to see if her face matches the body he was admiring from two seats over. Getting up he walked over and sat down in the stole next to her. She somewhat laugh at the not intended pun earlier. Maybe that will get her attention now.

“Hey, haven’t see ya here before. I would buy you a drink but it looks like ya got it. Looks like 2 down and 4 to go.” Red says finishing the rest of mustered. She turned her head and looked at Red. ”Sorry had to ‘mustered’ up the courage to ask.” Hmm not bad. Not bad at all. Round face, full pink lips, pale skin, and her eyes. Icy blue eyes with a hint of violet. Her eyes looked relaxed could be drunk.

“..... Ha-ha, 6 down and 4 more to go yes. 1 more if your still interested in buying me a drink.” Maybe not drunk. She didn’t seem drunk if anything, just tipsy.

This went on for about 30 minutes. Puns flying and a little flirting here and there. Red had down 4 mustered bottles and she finished off her 4. He got her the drink he promised. Red found he was have a good time. She appeared to be have a good time as well. At some point they were interrupted by the humans at the table. Making rude comments about Monsters and Magic.

“ Hey Monster Stick to your own Kind.” one of human males yell out. His face clearly disgusted at there display. Which to be far was just talking. Nothing more.

Red was getting ready to tell him to shove it but was cut off. “I don’t think he should he has been great company. Plus if u have a issue here’s a tissue.” The woman he had been talking to tossed a balled up tissue there way. The turn back to Red as if nothing happened. “By the way you never introduce yourself.” she said to Red with a laid back smile. She was right I never did. Lets  fix that. he he.

“ Ha!, your right. The name Sans, Sans the Skeleton but you sweetheart can call me Red.” Smiling Wide, Red put out his hand for a handshake. Her hand held his. He noted that her hands were small and warm. Cute.

“ Well Red nice to finally know the name of the person i have been talking to for half an hour. My name is -”

“ Hey what’s your problem you into Monsters or some shit!.” The same human called out. “ Bet she is one of those types. yea? Like’s the danger thrill right!” Getting everyone attention in the bar. though there was only just them, Red and her at the bar and a 2 humans at a both by the door and a Monster bear looking out the window from his seat.Oh and Chillby not looking happy. “ If you looking for fun tonight just come on over. We will give you what your looking for.” He pulled up his shirt. showing off his broad chest. His Buddy's cheered.

“ Your safe will use. We have what you need, Skin for one!.” the male to his right call out show off this arms. The other was cheering his friends on recording with his phone. All 3 looked looked to be in there 20ish. All of them Drunk.

“Pf-ft hah hah haa!, who comes to a monster bar and is racist and ignorant of the people around them.” She turns her head to them looking bored. Her smile gone and eyes narrowed. “ You know what......there is a lesson here. Its people like you who get on my nerves. You say stupid things to get a rise out people. Thinking that if they do something I got friends, that got my back.” She sipped her drink and leaned on her other elbow. “ Whats wrong? can’t hold your own? Have to show how ‘manly’ you are by insulting others? or Show off what ‘little’ you have?” Clearly not interested in the their display. “if anything it’s cowardly. and I hate cowards.”

Red was a little taken a back. Chillby was just about to walk over and most likely throw them out. When there was a feeling of magic in the air like an magic attack was readying, but it was off it felt more like magic tension or-

“Chicken Shit...” She said pointing a finger at the first offender who made the first rude comment who started this. Magic came from her finger. Orange and Purple magic shot from her finger out it to the human male. There was a flash then a poof. In his place was a....

“..........bak bak”

“Dude! What the Fuk!!” said his buddy to the left

“ He’s a Chicken!!, A fuckin Chicken!!!. The other said dropping his phone.

Chillby, Sans, The Bear Monster and the other 2 Humans starred eyes and eyes light wide. Some Shocked that a now chicken is where a man once stood.

“ Not a chicken really but a rooster. I was going for Chicken ‘Shit’ but I’m a little more then tipsy. But I got results.” She got up and went to the door after downing the her last drink.

“Hey! What the fuck lesson is there to learn.!. Your braking the law using magic us normal Humans. Fucking Mages!” He scream looking at his now chicken friend.

“....Oh right the lesson. Um mm, don’t mess with People and keep your opinion to yourself. Plus this is a magic zone. Where I can use magic. Anyway he will change back in few.” She made it to the door then paused. “ Almost forgot.” She turned to Red and smiled and said, “ The names Yvette.” She left.

Tada!!! old art with story. The next image is just trying out faces for the sans and pap’s. The other image will have a story later on. Ill post it next maybe.....^w^/ Hope my spelling and storytelling is understandable.

#my art #my story #undertale #undertale related #underfell red #OC mages #funny... i hope

[turuses-blog]

Mute pt.

Alternative Lit Johnathan Edward Barrett Urbalonis

Copyright 2019

ALTERNATIVE LIT

trippy wisdom given to words

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WRITINGS

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deadly nightshade on a rose

Posted by barrett on June 6, 2014 at 10:45 AM

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scantily wrought fences of just-turned-deep-red, read rights of leverage to the thorns that there wrest. a rustling of feather for the wind against the salut bricken brack, which if these were to wilt, still wouldn't form sullen vest. all now investing in a business, a night-lock to guard off spiders who trample on silk, like - sort of a call to arms on a coat of thread, which thick twisty greens would not abed. a cast of action in the worn breeze, easy to impress, though, just a lacklustre show all around makes it a deathly thing to fall in paro. lost in the lake a boy with tong hands serrates, bliss and wouldn't miss arrive a lucid parliament that fate the dice at its gate.

when the phone ran

Posted by barrett on June 6, 2014 at 10:15 AM

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we aren't: part - parted - to depart upon our hearts' fair compartment. an apartment view with a lockpick, key to rampint desertion of a lip of rearrangement notice. 'preferred - our - hour to post pardon the ploxick (several metallic solid flats on a ring that doesn't rust), twice- denote sick out of slang or of a toxic; ways to find chalk kick. alter fast cerebral mask... the what? the ears... twice had; listening to a ploxick till the connotation rang with just the jittery sound. and sometime some laugh at otto and homer when the phone rang.

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bell jar 1

Posted by barrett on June 3, 2014 at 6:00 PM

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awaking to the time 3:30. coldfront and bird chirps. lake breeze and talk about trees. maslow's heirarchy of needs - be - monolithic i'm deed, as those: astute; finger cramp tailor's can produce. but isn't that the perfect fit? when will it be nostalgic to wear something else.

perplexity

Posted by barrett on May 31, 2014 at 2:30 PM

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arriving concave, jostled by a fir tree, the hammocked backend of the real mirror in use began accompany.

as far as we know, trees are very hard to knock down, though we can sleep in a tent or hammock, and understand it. horizontally?

perplexity

Posted by barrett on May 31, 2014 at 2:30 PM

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arriving concave, jostled by a fir tree, the hammocked backend of the real mirror in use began accompany.

as far as we know, trees are very hard to knock down, though we can sleep in a tent or hammock, and understand it. horizontally?

tailored sheen

Posted by barrett on May 31, 2014 at 1:30 PM

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a brilliant, orthodox woman. with strings of galaxies plummetting from her natural sombrero. like 'what would she wear. 'though incomplete, she dances probably with steep falls inbetween elite things that remind me of a sombrero. a cadillidac convertor tattooed on her favorite shirt. this is not too real. insofar as i describe her she merits tangible relapses into beauty. knowing most things about her would require a chair. and chairs or no chairs, sombrero and insofar as sombrero, tangible relaptic strings of galaxies which i add insofar as it lasts for however long. however.

cosmeriment

Posted by barrett on May 31, 2014 at 1:25 PM

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every other, insofar as both, as construed, are or our lover. where the sinking sand is truth. now and then, insofar as false, one or two, remain constrained to a patch, a field, a cyclic ameobic dealing with the ineptitude of love. are or our love? which lasts longer. like 'also-' witch lasts longer. which are witch our lover love stoop.

from a binocular a bird follows then insofar as takes flight.

isn't this where the magical birds come from?

and

Posted by barrett on May 24, 2014 at 5:45 PM

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             it was unpleasant. the whole ordeal. i made toast earlier and it seems to have disappeared. the toaster was not out. where, most importantly when. ive been up for about an hour and a half. what have i done other than toast bread... just then L walks in the door. he told me about the toast i ate in front of him. was that a crumb on his chin.. he told me how i walked, almost sleeping, back to bed, with the intent, to toast more... it was then, L said, lets have a toast. couldve meant like four things... he cant be trusted. L raised a peice of bread and there appeared around me many guests at and around the table, though on the other side of the toaster... I dont know why i wasnt scared, I was too hungry. Then I disappeared.

passin me by

Posted by barrett on May 24, 2014 at 5:35 PM

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they say i say the lottery is passing me by. one way, this way im on a road with no tombstone around to wave hi. the day of which and when, though its passable at convenience, is off road and tangible through a womb a wreckage and decay. i said , decaying with Gods children was building a rhythm... now artifacts of cars and syntax hold me to a sky of disdain. reclaiming an idle position is hard at times, on this road to ala coaster, spring flout letter intendency i unreign for something ever after, rest in peace harold raimes, and anyone gone on the way around the desert. it seems surprisingly small, perhaps the tombstones lay in the sand hazards.

passin me by.

a rule not a thumb

passin me by

a thumb not a rule

passin me by

whys everything sought after after

passin me by

a highways a noose before its strung into fibres.

untitled

Posted by barrett on May 20, 2014 at 1:00 AM

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a relic gifted in stone, found, dethrowned from the wall. embedded in a stone. rhythmic licensure of a chisel might fit it enough to bring it home. as i said... prone focus, a 'fast' fastening to a thread. spanning it bears the color red, a ruby. from the look of it, i'd say its dead meet.

quintessential byproduction is a growing field, i think.

typecast publishers boycott surmounting headlines; too many cases of rigormortis,

and that still doesnt hold flame like the fresh stake on the sill...

thin

Posted by barrett on May 19, 2014 at 4:40 PM

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a caterpillar hangout to the hummingbird in the morning. over toast passing french. graduation hat vertical complex, duo original animations that string out like a sandstorm. crystal yet elements of partake, abashed with no duration. all form unified specifications for a distraught mot liason. original favouring tricyclic milk glasses. 'like strawberry flavour, is going to keep me wrapt with this newspaper. 'back when paper was new, sort of sorting of the stork's occasion, to see inert pegs, cut, paste on.

inaudible recordings of select indivisions

Posted by barrett on May 19, 2014 at 2:25 PM

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If it occured to anyone, it has ownership of value, if value is sought in activity. any valued thought allows vocation or hitherto spirited activity. but of what value can the same thought be?

in allegiance, it may be necessary to rekindle the same thought, even though it is counter-intuitive. its actually used in that fashion of malcontent, accruing a different vocation. this is where value becomes spent.

"i never said i loved you. your heart of malcontent was spent on my breaks."

tifa lockhart

Posted by barrett on May 19, 2014 at 2:00 PM

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believe that i can fly. in a world

i see before me laying down the

sky, in a precautious sort of learning.

believe that these can.

whatever they are for others too

hold hands, built to ravish clouds

just testing what wear

hair lengths,

i would like to fly longer

what if i pair with

a parrot

a loch ness monster

a pidgeon

a mobster

'belie dat

thats how it started,

for all these lines, and time is ownlay: carving

the root of what i see,

come follow me, to aesop and sega genesis

where apparel costs the prophet

a glance, with which a slippet can defeat the solace

now ive truly expounded.

"i imagine sloppy seed handling."

the image is like a mirror

the listening skills of a mirror form partial glances to belie the harvest

where?

believe that these can

you'll forget it or knot

this lillie is prime place and principle

ooh look what mom bought

now im caught between a rose and a stout...

wait a second,

white paint

Posted by barrett on May 14, 2014 at 9:00 PM

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breaking buildings of trust, epithet lustrous. I want an effigy to read me. lost stuff, pleads 'be'. in a land full of happiness lived a friendly octopus, who need-be tangled up with rustic 'font', little does this octopus know of where its stowed, or going, though he felt snow on top of a boat about a week ago. oh, and between me thumbs, sorry for the wait, and whatever, though I also love my metaphors intact as tressels can become.

only breaking a building.

if it weren't for the antipathy of an occasive injury supplanted by porridge-wrought inert-asive-ship, this belittled sea creature could create a censure wherever it was plait. no more, no more.

the shore broke the sand.

at last stands a villa of domicilia, and like cilia the people tangle through the festivities.

life and the eternal eclipse of finding, part two

Posted by barrett on May 14, 2014 at 7:45 PM

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"everything should just be this way." said gypsum and led them to a sunken cavern hollow where it was dark. "if we light any fire we shall be blinded by the reflections of the treasure over the treasure. its best we hollow out the treasure in sequence to get it all out." and so they did.

it was high time they made back with the treasure, but no one wanted treasure anymore, except them. luckily every home in the village had a little treasure. yet to be, was the equal or lesser want of treasure. they had flat discs of metal, and cuttings of stone, shaped weapons of a different metal, and jewellery of all types. bailey didn't even want his horse back.

here we see what a geologist does

life and the eternal eclipse of finding, part one

Posted by barrett on May 14, 2014 at 7:05 PM

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"in a far off place, there are treasures" gypsum said, "I can take you there, to them, if the price is right."

"if the price is right, then." Hamlin said.

gypsum held back his horse which was drawing closer from the stable, alongside bailey. "the only problem is that they are guarded by the utmost, wickedest creature known to man, yet not creatures." gypsum got on the horse.

Hamlin stunted his smile and asked the valiant-assuming, postured knight what he meant.

"it is guarded by treasure."

in this tale we see the characters distraught.

a starlit necessary

Posted by barrett on May 14, 2014 at 6:55 PM

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blanket starch bold allegiance to the thrown of two for the basket. cloth never reminded me so much of eggshell, said with a mist of chalk or something. no doubt today would flout the risking of a pantomime. by very well boisterous rising of swells that dawn allegedlldy fell. somewhere else. a felt tip drags, and some mothers cry.

sweeping a ray in nightly tide, venomous uncouth hand holding that say to the nightingale across the shore: fly by! if its up to pigment to gain the moon, neither could tell, but a bright lightning light, storms her deep memory of perchance and wail and wait and why.

the arrow fur of a tonic hold deep aghast, cast sheep on the clouds that peeve and prance whisking away the tide. trial neatly folded the blanket is now set. ready for everything, yet, not in a young sort of way. asking, where is this place, and where are we off to mixes backwards and time, slightly grazes her arm and they beg to ask why.

the moon held an old coat from her closet the lake or river, or both, made a inaudible concert the blanket lay in pieces.

the next day sprung, like no one had been there, save a patch of flattened earth, the size of about two people, those that truly are due.

,hard to see fit, a reminisce, acquiesced by either while they choke on fever, under blankets so warm inside or out waiting for the sun, for no reason.

diatribe

Posted by barrett on May 14, 2014 at 5:50 PM

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it was around the ninth that a segment of the show aired in the middle of a stream of commercials. it was hailed as the only thing to look for afterwards.

bob sprocket came into work with a ticket for his leave, unknowingly, being the only member of his team to have caught a fixed the glitch

anyway, on the twelvth they had it savvy, worked like an extra suspension cable to the workings of a television show and anchored the commercial representativity to a glistening extreme.

on the thirteenth they aired a fake commercial for 'sprocket cleanser,' a little too much like a commercial. somewhere else they thought of making the product.

bob sprocket oriented himself in the lunch room before nine oclock on the fifteenth, when he noticed his picture was on the television, him from when he started working at the small initiate of office. he took his leave the following day.

things got a little messy.

«

clothes

Posted by barrett on May 6, 2014 at 3:45 PM

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three thousand years ago, and now before, a something like a sentient building will cast existence flames like sewing a curtain. a rif in the time continuum. without knowledge of us it shall pick up where it left off and we`ll be held in trust. it happens all the time, mayybe. maybe just the sound distinguishing remarks of a plot punctured. surfers these days should know all about, but it seems like they don`t.

if it were to ever happen, its most likely to be ferretted into convenient thought of a more widespread diaspora and be hassled into notation, being the differennce between now and then solely; whether it provides either way is categorically imperative and no stress we could come up with in physics could partake in its mysterious intuition.

nevermind

Posted by barrett on April 21, 2014 at 1:35 PM

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a rare breed of dog called the foglace has been meritoriously attributed to the southern hemisphere of the continent of the americas. Deep in the subtropical jungles of eastern peru there was found several packs of this breed. the foglace is of a predictable discretion, though with mild anterior bends on the ears; a large patch of black on the stomach & a lime orange tinge coating it in lacey fur. the dog hunts at twilight for prey like lemurs and muscrats, never consuming them whole, especially at first take.

the breed has recently travelled up to the tip of the panamalian canal's south side, where it inveritably waits for passage. it is being debated whether or not the dog should be introduced to a broader, dryer cllimate, as invariably breedds shall mix.

thus brings me to the account of one Peter Jogstone, a breeder of dogs and kennel keeper in at least three states. he attained a sample of the dogs hair and immediately orderred one.. two very profound events, one merit, one surmount. to his lliking he now has one male foglace. in the summer of last year he travelled to alaska with it, which he called dawson.

missing

Posted by barrett on April 21, 2014 at 4:45 AM

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course of these whimsy feverish lips and

towards you, feel restrained with locks; this feeble

attempt of garullous youthful tolerance

fills me with thee revolt of people's keep-all

circunscription where the laughter is fake.

Though a laugh shared between there and here is,

partly made practical by the weery stakes

the enamorred with whichever might kiss.

attentive recourse in all but just that

can extinguish a messy happenning

and to you i say this is just a flat

surface of thorns to call a bed again

ageless prospective atrocious kissing

versus the time it was fun to do so (

art

Posted by barrett on April 21, 2014 at 4:25 AM

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he has grace together that cares so

a caress from his hand could score wax

an utterable countenace with arrows

often marked as woman, though more man.

'at leisure he spotted yes and no

and decided to drop anchor,

with a pull string on his ward so

he let the talk come from the pure

help wanted

Posted by barrett on April 21, 2014 at 4:10 AM

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a frightening evening is all she could recall, and on this very night it started - to the extent of her interpolation - with the same few odd quirks. its funny, her and betty always seemed to dote on myla's quirks, it seemed indifferent till about two weeks ago and tonite. the two in likely sweep from work to granite street where they part ways was wayward and elongated by the extra two hours they had to put in. as i was saying, the moon shined a yellow pallor and seemed to move the clouds like curtains. sometimes they would look up and see nothing. their talk was hurried and just short ofpanic in the late evening hour where no cars would pass by and the hedges creeped. as a tactful glance into the structure of their conversation which i waiting for myla's arrival made out afterwards, was that they seemed to be coming back to the same topic of what it is like to walk by a cemetery. myla and betty ended up at granite street safely and parted. myla told me she heard betty's dog a lot sooner than usual and that it made her feel diffident - the term she used.

For the next week she remained diffident in all bodice and color; her movements, her appraisal, her reprize all diffident. i started seeing her in a new light, like she was getting over something, or for the most part, was over something.

naughts

Posted by barrett on April 20, 2014 at 8:35 PM

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a net silence of glossy colored sheets flared up with the coffee. he gave them a look and removed the green one. 'ah a sensation' he gloated. 'for that green coated slip was mean, no more meandering at the bottom of the chain. he put it on top of the manilla. already virtuoso reptilian, though flushed emerald in the light from beside the computer.

the office lights werent on, he was last to leave already, and on the sidewalk -manilla / green flanking his right side.

the next day the reverse was put on Chimey's desk and he waited for the slips to come in again, both. the coffee... nothing... the lights... nothing, it seems he'd be fired, so he looked back to the clock. time was ticking by.

the coffee, the lights.

the coffee, the lights.

the coffee, the lights.

at home on saturday he received a green phone call. "too much manilla"

the coffee, the letterhead gold, the lights, the reflection, the phone call, the fine, the workers, the elevator, the ruby red, the address, the plot thickens, the coffee colored manilla, the entropy

fixed glossy coatings

orange corner

blank white by the hundred,

pink slips

no color up the sleeves on the way out the manager said, and so he never left that white letterhead.

paste and clips

all or nothing

a black sheet of paper tacked to the wall, only. validity. special reproach to candor manifestly opaque in difference, just a different outcome, where the colors' colors shine bright. black

afficiency

Posted by barrett on April 20, 2014 at 3:30 PM

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"only a villain so fantastic could have plotted something like this" the curtains were spread apart and light shined down on the muddy boot, alone, next to the eyeing jazz fiend. "i mean, theres no connection between this jazzman and anyone within ten miles. though there are a few laniards from a nearby festival held within a week of today everyear."

"how jolly"

"except he won't be at this festival, because he's dead."

"what! are you sure he isn't just creating jazz music...?"

"he might be, in jazz heaven..."

the scene was pretty dolled up. candles found their way onto open offering surfaces and a vinyl record player lay agape on the endtable across the floor.

"it seems he was entertaining."

"wait he's coming to."

the jazz man's grasp of the saxophone gave way and slid a little on the hardwood floor.

"no, just a reproof. hes dead. he won't be at the festival, it seems the murder was done by jazz itself, cuz no man can control it."

"he was good though." aaron said

"a little too good maybe." delroy said

"why don't we play the record and recreate the scene?"

"not till the jazzman is gone."

the grave words.

Occasive Down-end

Posted by barrett on April 17, 2014 at 7:35 PM

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             drowning in a sea of silk, a lightning strikes! and turns it to felt. 'Whatever happened to the simpler days, was never so complex. and often on a podium right next to the studio you can see the next. But blaintant rampint chronologies of force (touring) can only make sport for less-subdued blood, banishing the trudge of mud.

then we climb out, nails to the brink, time is stout, fail to think, just get yourself out, trails on brinks.

When did we have to say things like "thanks for the bargain." that really means something to me,

dare we fold an iris and seeth rew totalled and friendly to the scent of focus?

tending sticks for walking till repition

a blank face on a boat with a storm with a smile. either i'll paddle backwards or reginald will while i forth.

occasive buoyancy

Posted by barrett on April 17, 2014 at 7:25 PM

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in light of the spectrum, pixels animated readdress fulcrum. though like certain applications suggest it may act upon another axis. in light of this question i shall observe glasses and try to see through the seams of nature, conjugated. in light of hindsight i'd say there has been a lot of light shed on the subject. and in light im all opaque and with-feature. in light balance of statement, theory, plan, musing and what id like to call 'entropy', i feel all masked and ashamed in the dark and empty, wanting to talk about shells and repositioning my feet. first i will look up entropy, and tie it in:

done and done

the deaf ears for crazy

Posted by barrett on April 16, 2014 at 4:40 AM

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Crazy, the word, is a professed lazy assailant of one's marker. The strongest argument made by the latest philosopher's is a discontinuity between perception and reality. Imagine hearing the sound of a straw falling in a glass of water. Maybe to bite off more than one can chew is crazy, precept reside. Spanning the tromp de l'oeil of almost ritualized perceptive artifices, none stand out more than the one's with visual scrutiny. To think something can also be otherwise is otherwise is what? a charged antinomy and a lock? No matter how hard people try to agree there's no snug or perfect syncronizattion... So maybe some are crazy, but amongst themselves if the word holds  true, there should be some syncronization.

beck at it

Posted by barrett on April 16, 2014 at 4:30 AM

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dusty vinyl records, stayin that way cause collections. people with vinyl are a grouping, theyve extended function to quality with respects to guessing. ritual also endorses the use of vinyl, many disc jockies know it too well, enough to have concerts out ofone and two vinyl players.

when vinyl records first came out it was precarious and resplendent. listening to music was more of an activity, probably based soley on the movement of people. today music is easier to access and control. so why are there people playing vinyl?

The only plausible answer is, that they haven't pirated any music and their music is all or mostly on the records they spin.

to be continued

eye care

Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 6:45 PM

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an interogation of whats on hand, warrant received amidst a desperate man. Check everything. they would like to wouldn't. a round off of bullet, several cut carrots on a wood plate.

pate...

hasty taken provided liquid crystal displayed moments later he checked the fridge. (this is where it all comes in)

he found a note, right above the bag of carrots: eat carrots

Cast Cupid

Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 6:40 PM

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Practical alignments' gathered feathers fettered... shuffle tilt rust recalls.

An inumeralbe immunity of pox of letters... that suffice to say it's fall.

Why this distance mistakes birds' calls for getting recon.

As whitening cold abound so thin and transparent on heat.

Pleating desperation for a new tomorrow in calm promise,

With the striking features of some meet.

Tawdry desolation, may only,

Set astray an artisan of lonely.

Tense spindle of four or five few,

Twisted indiscretely conjunctionally till they enter you,

terrace

Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 6:30 PM

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a green multitude of limb. ballast-taut structures of evident. picturesque people tend, around, and then again. rearranged possessive systemic trust in needles, pinch professionals of those akin. the swarming fever of a harlequin full of attention span.

a full form tropical delay of all my whims, brought about somehow, someway. what isn't this is this and thinning, to say... dimensional recast of a forbeared stay.

it made light with words and circled thin. arrested polish of those who dine, made clockwise for all ive got to say, though pining spinning these warn of May.

taken with salt... soup,

taken with soup... relaxed

brittle piece of work

Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 5:05 PM

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a red violet

glow 'doth\ braun

civil, patience...

burning turning stern,

a license to jot,

in ink violence - too fond

of ornament, of nature, of system, of pleasure

where the earth will turn

flattery battery battery

Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 3:40 PM

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lithium, some nirvana. held, swallowed. expelled. talon, large... the one that shoves the real. i thought a while ago that there was a way into the next life, but tomorrow never dies. lastnight, for real though, i thought twice that a character prepared of orature would be cool if suffice, Tomorrow Night. for the night i will leave an anvil untattered, though hip hop orchestrated may make troublesome lore, where incumbrant echoing one hundred i'll attend the maze until the very last turn. now stop and turn a hundred. this aint nirvana, this is an egalitarian discotech of promotion negotiating with peaceful subjects aimed at warm heaters. madness, genius, unreal, and phallus, deducting proclivities to sunshine in an ordinary fashion, though i can hear the tarnished remarks of proctoring and gamble with the walks withini, theres never really an ending till all the sleeves are offering. so for now at the age of April, i'll wonder why it snowed today and remember that theres more snow cauterring "in utero".

tifa lockhart

Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 3:15 PM

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a beautiful woman is a lot like a daffodil i said,

prove it. but flower's can't talk

i walked in the sand.

stood and offered my nose to her hand.

i tear apart a three of hearts

with no one to pick up the dirt.

its funny cuz sometimes what doest really work.

format:

welcome,

you learn conforming?

boring sentence structure detouring,

near of from, far or going.

and then a reciprocal gem of what is storing.

everything has a shell, called it!

then i ben over and fetched the wallet.

this should never leave my pocket

and in there, that there sprocket...

'the one that whimsy did' chained to a lockett

her picture perfect perfunct predetermined nature harkened

a litre in the same vain.

but it never really functioned until several finaciers arranging warped echoes

alotted themselves in walking,

so far gone, like the porridge, watch i proctor

and any official statement made by me can unsort this calcium deficient closet.

watching, to: spying. too much wall within the place.

say what is gone is now encased and shows vace

tu ne say quoi

a patrol of indecency arriving in tangents, to memory banks tthrough half handstands... 'grandslams, tame fam ran high hope tanned plans sans france bandstand land spans. and what comes off in one pluck is enough to offer eleven more words but they seem to have fell off the truck

duck duck goosed by givance and gators

pray tell negligee erased to find humour

and now i craft like one undone, too modest for malice in narrative mindsets to add fluence.

cantankerous plots of land i summon thee, question this dell and stream.

"don't pester us, pester flatter, this only flatters me."

cuz he got to talk

running through a jazz lucidity crises, mistaking real gold for fool's gold. i think...

pieceless puzzles lying on their stomaches chow down. (it was from off the cylinder)

i totally correct my vision.

"the sun rose" from lord of the rings, now that's time froze.

bashful beauty

too.

this lily has been so out of seems. i could

i tear apart a three of hearts

Posted by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 2:55 PM

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             someone sent her. i know it now. though these cards split apart. inside theres some sort of notoriety. in this decadent sobriety she says hi to me. where and when... can they go wrong? a right of thought. shes played a lot of starts. raging inbetween wagons, i would say. but then theres something wrong... is it what makes this scene? i, disparagingly lay down some matter: sadness, laughter, wrong, and tatterred. a blissful spell of 'all she does is yell' peltting me with hello, though theres a brow, braced and watched. like a professional about to tell someone off indignant of the melting tingling feeling forcing gleeful fleeting. a mix of dust. trust, ownership and yelling. don't go.

an old broom

Posted  by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 2:45 PM

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             whatever comes this way. swept off my sidelings when i found a noticable tract. probable cause in repetoire though confines so elementary

behind the wayside and the wallet, a, whatever -you - call 'it, there's a fix that needs a prix.

free from the antlers and buoyance from the found, i rush in with wooden artifice to find a kick

and around to the cranberries that so sound become handy, one grandslam armoir close like a laundry

and i always can't see it, but i'm beaming to some stowage, improper, and cogged, cognated with revery and awe.

it has been my mission just sifting, though roundabout and through wishing, with amalgammed tenancy does wrought. so temperance and allegiance, pageantry so decent, i attend willingly the problem and start with the cause in timing.

The willow stands tall outside. On it's branches are many orating plush-strained incubi that designate the orifice.

and the porridge is now warm.

warning warring weeping to stop sleeping and slept. vitamins on the table, and perfect neglect.

interior of a nomme de plume

Posted  by barrett on April 15, 2014 at 2:30 PM

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             bested, besieged. in dear ascent of leagues. trusted and animated through tunnel vision, one can perceive a conception of emotional tumult; where ridden of topic and flavour. indescent really weathering thoughts on a paper. but, with haste, the writers turn trap'd in a large ornamental gap-mishap. and render vain through a window eager to shelter.

blending, berated, in clear ominous straint, dire collection of silver strings... draw sentiment into collection. arranging 'things' like hand on rapier, and not unlike one too for favour, but altogether. relinquished it is but a tumult of emotion - ranging from despair to fresh care - given, not - where, wherefore trots' liquid dismissing of permissive givances.

like fiancee to writable, and all in one unique type logarithymic, no ventricle could hold the pencil shavings that were on candle. yet, and well crafted yet, as yets to be yet. let leaders follow folio and prefer for what's set.

an enterprise of commiserate duty in the hands of an official reality model. some betook and aghast waste away at the nomenclature as forms to clay, shaking dorms like whoknows. let it snow, let it snow.

bonhomme de neige, the recipient of this echo.

touchy subject

Posted  by barrett on April 12, 2014 at 1:20 PM

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"do that awful jazz music"

"with what?" he said looking from left to right.

"yknow that awful, jazz, music."

be bob bop batta ba

the conclusion:

jazz music can not singularily be awful, so that this guy is incredible.

oh, uh

Posted  by barrett on April 9, 2014 at 8:10 PM

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             only conformity breeds chaos, enough of borderline leaderships they cry. and we obey either way with someone and sketch the line... "lets". and then like a divet in a field of grass rain pours in and it takes days to get the worms anywhere else. well, "well", either way conforming doesn't have to be a battle, but a series of exactitudes formed in process to an aclimated state of peripheral balance. there is no way not to conform is there. if we all live eachother's lives accordingly, its just seen with a different divet...it seems examples would be elliptical style menacing renditions of the refinition of durability, seeking strong in ultraviolet, though, historically speaking we are all one part alien.and one part definition. seen oblong as an example it would seem that we choose propective candidates in advancement through spreadless paste tag 'lines' and coeffect ourselves out of sync, as perspective does. thats a good ending, as perspective does.

in uh.

Posted  by barrett on April 3, 2014 at 9:00 PM

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a fluency in english deludes the best of its commontaters. we shall become one with the striving one does to become none other than non. Anon, and abest to the corporeal indicative comingling of the undone and the undone. it has both rapport but does not asign another., or an other. sadly striving can only overcome the common efficacy of sound on a ?mantle?, but undoes just as well as the strive that places forth. sadly, striving. but to none other than a language goes a proficiency, home, to walk amongst the others of a same specious, but disparate, disparaging recollection of purified nonsense; in the same way that hands reach out and legs abound.

on a sailboat, several financiers located an agreement slip of paper and read it aloud, they agreed to sign it and then the clouds rolled over. they quickly tried to laminate it, but with such lamentation dropped it in the water.

discount items

Posted  by barrett on April 1, 2014 at 7:50 PM

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a woman, of stout physical class, was seen by her neighborhood, walking a small English poodle, of harsh detrimental physique. The poodle would call it her own and jowl at the several to many passerbys that would syrup through the gangly media of initiation and venting. it was a saturday afternoon that the dog had fell down after sitting; taken by the vet, she did a lot more sitting. otherwise it was a labouriate indignation of plausible outrage and defenseless opposition to the stout class of a specimen, likewise to the tambourine of this annal.

it so happened that her courter several years later was English and liked poodles. On the occasion of talking about anew pet, it was certain that the dog was coming back from the dead. The woman - Lily- screemed with systemic delight and not a word later the dog came through the back door. and sat. Lily and Tumnas took a turn patting her head, when occurred a high whistle that could seemingly only made out by Lily. Needless to say it was a faint echo of the dog, of which one, even i am concerned.

at the edge of hedges outside through the window was always a red cardinal. blessed be, the culprit of the whistle.

"theres no use in caging a bird" said tumna eventually.

"then theres no use calligraphying a poodle."

tumnas sat on the stairs and managed to hear a sound, it all ended with the word "remember"

untitled1

Posted  by barrett on March 31, 2014 at 4:05 PM

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"it was becoming lucrative!"

"how so?"

"knowing how to embroider specialized door mats, has never been more welcome!"

"So why did you drop out?"

"It wasn't my passion."

"and what was?" "finding lucrative businesses."

on a sailboat in the middle of the lake, a man named, guaranteed, was fishing for dinner.

a storm kicked up and tipped his boat over, so he stayed under neith to breathe and holdfast.

he washed up on shore about an hour later, a lake away from his cottage.

instead of fish he would eat among all fish, he drank kool-aid and had toast.

he didn ot see the storm coming, but it didn t destroy his boat!

and then a seahorse named "what are you doing?" was born,

rogue

Posted  by barrett on March 27, 2014 at 2:20 PM

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in a way, we find ourselves. combatting evil in illustrioustrialist right. we honour each side like a contraband, and play bellows like a shellfish in the sand. standing tall, with what all? never seeing behind us, but sometimes reminding some that we can peirce our blindness. trallopping over kindness, besmirching wickets... like: 'that covers it'. and end up sitting in front of a fire the only way it knows how. too much addressing, little less than much more confection, letting it, forgetting it, paying patience to what is now the other side of the wicket. crickets laughing in the distance dialing for forge progressed sharps that greet hay. oh, i forgot, creation inside something else, ultraparallelopedisms and misprints on slips of paper, property printing proper misgivings for more to span. lost listings of good stories, though stories of books.

monostarch

Posted  by barrett on March 27, 2014 at 2:20 PM

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in a minute's romance: brilliance plays almost dance

Casual attidude of delays of so in a minute's romance.

so much sloping like slop deliverred to and through caravan's

"my heart slew" hefty jocund rice sushi inimtables on the counter

and this wasn't outside the bracket. welcome to thee last six years:

pelt, like a pelt

Posted  by barrett on March 27, 2014 at 2:15 PM

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Several days ago, a matter of the heart had him crying, playing cribbabe. He stouted fourteens here and there as a mild sigh of relief, but technically and wholeheartdly he was losing and not in the race ultra-parallelly in that respect. it seems fourteen beamed a peridontistallite for his visible facial ties and he acted whimsical.

"another" the other said.

"tomorrow or the next, shuffle up and deal." could you imagine if that other side of the comma was outside the quotation marks?

nonchalance equisition

Posted  by barrett on March 24, 2014 at 8:40 PM

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fellows that!

hi here to thy brandish

if i werent adrink brandy thou would thy spend

well if it isn't when and where that was catalouged by the defense mechanism of a wyvern in type and term.

who holds the brandy (double back)

well then aside i must sip

while i attack?

the moss grew softer and like, very distasteful relief was all but plotted, in a niche

i didn't even drink any

brandished?

spat: a regatta

held

accountable for

relieved

your hat

false beliefs?

terms and tact

goner?

gone to better

roll with the cadences

bake in the heat

so i guess you had already

my own defeat

titleist

Posted  by barrett on March 23, 2014 at 8:40 PM

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several arranged a finacial commissirate deduction from the aspects of several. now they stone roll, and roll away the indecisive together. but not a point to make a stop to eachother all over again in ones.

opt'apelia

Posted  by barrett on March 23, 2014 at 4:00 PM

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it's what became of her. ninety seven, sixty three. stingray wheel and a shop full of feet.

like an ocean liner with too many anchors, swept and a treat to the eyes, threatening to look at alone.

two doors, seventy six. rpms standards. and the severed financial structure numeration in a history.

it wore a black sheet in the front and upper to lower back in that way. small spoiled

when it whipped past the first time it was home, they keep it on the lot to sell oil or something

some people drink it, but its neither fast nor slow down to the end.

this thing that thing, all the eyes origin and ending with a swift ninety seven.

too much handling and a brief manual on defense.

several arranged financial agreements

several

Posted  by barrett on March 20, 2014 at 1:55 PM

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at the library, several arranged financiers impatienly bargained for the new book.

dustin?

Posted  by barrett on March 12, 2014 at 8:50 PM

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"the dwarf had a silver maracca."

the pond

Posted  by barrett on March 9, 2014 at 9:45 PM

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from the bottom of the pond, i say. is where these rocks come from. if we want more of these rocks, we will wait, until the pond is not crowded with water and seaweed.

the pond.

levelry

Posted  by barrett on March 4, 2014 at 5:05 PM

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a black decent string, with silver-coated pearls

hung dangling off the box, and promoted guile.

it was hung there, heavenly like it belonged to the world.

and just because it also promoted style.

Ginger-ale and some weakened blossoms fix

and usually when trampled upon connote

a foot of sunken color like lamped wicks

though not in any way one would know.

The bracelt silver and yellow, married: gold and in circle

With one  wealthier pigment every five

Touching, the rupture of the inkblot: purple

It's hard at all to see it survive.

all to say what may come of jewelery

and all the revelry does subsist

though broken forms, through certain reveries

never to one woman enlist.

notation

Posted  by barrett on March 3, 2014 at 8:30 PM

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a hidden door way that led down a long dark hall. easily traversed compiling a set of stairs at the end, a green, oval knocker illuminated.by a single candle at the foot of the door. i took up the candle, and knocked on the door. a bolt sounded, and then all was black. the scent of smoke was wispy and gone in seconds. pringles, classic et cetera

in a sense

Posted  by barrett on March 2, 2014 at 10:30 PM

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seven soldiers surrounding... whats more, whats more.

all in the noise hearts pounding... whats more, whats more

seven they started, seven they ended, and here is what is more

on top of propounding, leash proper behaviour and love for war.

type cast away

Posted  by barrett on March 2, 2014 at 8:55 PM

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it is up to he who knows to know who shall know thy..

thee known as, shall know as known

and all a see shall fruit like magical kings

heels click

Posted  by barrett on March 2, 2014 at 7:35 PM

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a definite amount of certain, curtains perks'n, fork hands for purpose, to propose rose flowers like same-initial form posed endings. magestic feeling astray connotes an invisible metal, that won over to this side to trim and lie. by now of i swerving out of character flawed sighs, an empire of rose flowers by fault. till the grow side by side, in abundance

his inferno

Posted  by barrett on March 2, 2014 at 7:25 PM

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In the directories of life, governed by the all-knowing but offensive to capitalization, a salamander can be found, or two. Salamander hunters have since been long-heard-off-of though they use to frequent our setting. A cabin in the eastern most of the continent, known secondarily for it's chief export: salamander-fish, strike it rich in the upcoming fall.

Jerry the cabin owner was stocked for the winter and when he had his first snowless day, looked bright on the crossroad in front of him. He made his way to the end of the fence and fished out his old slop bucket. A slop bucket which he kept from his grandfather who owned a farm just to the west. He brought the buckt in and filled it with water, took a sponge and some pinesol and cleaned the front porch, top to bottom. The scent was a signal to those that knew him that he would soon be into town, not too mention the scent he gained.

In town he had a funny feeling, from the clouds, to the winds, to the roads, to the transmission on his radio, all saying the same thing: salamanders. He went to pick up some worms and a few fresh lures and hooks and hurried back home. To the stream he went and put together his rod. Just waiting.

ati derivative

Posted  by barrett on February 26, 2014 at 8:25 PM

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A small communirty of ex-miners, with about 2 or 3 minors to each home had a terrible flood. But with all the hard work, then and before, it only seemed terrible for a day, the day of the flood that is.

tuesday special

Posted  by barrett on February 25, 2014 at 3:50 PM

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imagine a telescope that could see into the future, as oppose to the past... what would the difference be? itd probably be less powerful. az truck driving superhighway goggles... rip harold ramis. thats snaff

walk by 2

Posted  by barrett on February 23, 2014 at 3:15 PM

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in an arc it was tassled by twinkling, and blew over the clearest patch of dust hamperred grass. straight up. and everyone had a seat at the ceremony. little statues for perseverence in "can you trust me" a movie made by many. it was the prescreening, but that only now comes in. "delabous? are you serious?" overcame the overworked orchestra and the screen was lit, yet black and white. the crowd...

quiche

Posted  by barrett on February 22, 2014 at 11:45  PM

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in a category gone missing, was a folder with the headline: catchetori chicken

by one's resolve chicken shall be made-type.

and that type is fine, fit for dinner and out of the way in a way

some business that, of chicken.

with a rainhat im starting to think chicken: mad.

as such a book will thrift certain events.

you are not what you read,

my mouth can't tell me.      

walk by

Posted  by barrett on February 20, 2014 at 10:25  AM

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a translucent sphere witha drawstring case. several, in the case. the case in which is mentioned bears a face, a bear, with long whiskers, with a tribute to stars and space, in whitie lace. wherever the place, it is known to face others' paces with all similar trace.

a circle in the grass, in the sand. where no man walks away. it is not easy to pass, to be planted is how one gets away.

clad in plaid

Posted  by barrett on February 19, 2014 at 11:10  AM

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Plaidly hopped in the cart.

"Welcome, to the land of the future" a tinny voice rang "if you'll look to your right you'll see a real-life dinosaur skeleton."

Plaidly hopped out of the cart. to be with the dinosaur skeleton. Mr. Shogun ordered the ride to be stopped and went to get Plaidly. "What is the matter with you Plaidly?"

"I don't want dinosaurs in my future."

"Well then we best make our getaway onwards through this kiddy ride."

"sure thing."

They both went to sit in the cart again. When Plaidly looked back he noticed the skeleton was missing. "if you look to the left you'll see early man by a fire." the tinny voice continued.

it was a long day after the ride. Plaidly got back home safely with a note of fatigue. he heard footsteps. Someone was at the door. When he opened it his face pulled in horror thought he couldn't make a sound, there was the skeleton head of the dinosaur he had seen at the exhibition... with a package. he kicked the skeleton to pieces and received the package. he tore it open and took a look at the tiny fossil, with a note that said "use this to break the teeth and jaws, back of the skull and anything you don't like."

Plaidly's house now had a rather large gathering of dinosaur ruins in front of it. And that's how Plaidly played it out plain and simple.

the regular roose

Posted  by barrett on February 17, 2014 at 12:55  AM

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up to the ceiling with feeling, ie. the letter brought on a greivous upheaval. who could have delivered such a thing to let one corner bend after dear, and dear me, was too endearing to let it drop in the box.

i haven't known, i haven't gone. the place is new, yet the lights are on.

predictions of a certain night time upheaval, where everything wants to be read except that torn message in the envelope that said:

dear reginald,

its time to put your books on the shelf, and meet me for a goodbye shelfish dinner, or something. im leaving saturday for good. in the meantime...

and at this one point  i want my name to be reginald

«

discontent

Posted  by barrett on February 16, 2014 at 2:35 PM

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the workshop was clean as a whistle. a tinsmith could see his reflection. though he added pictures of engineered plots, this was the only one to service him. he kept a fine pocket, with no chain or ballast. his articles of clothing were fine in their sense. above the last belt of tools on his mantle a sheet of one by three tools would go- adding in a never.

he was to build the iris of a robot, at least a circular circuitboard with occulence. either capacity.

as he worked the retraction in... in discontent he realized he was only eyeing the measurements. tho

a walk through the melted snowman field

Posted  by barrett on February 16, 2014 at 2:05 PM

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"its really not my field, but is it not unnaturally warm in the sun today."

"why the snowmen have bulbous shadows by ones upon our time."

"a snow-man-angelleses!"

maybe the clouds were in dissarray.

"Let's hope that snowmen don't get upset."

"I couldn't care at all for that joke."

"Well i see."

they walked in the shadow's turn of phrase from the muddy snow hills, crushin' ice and snow. not knowing where the arms were pointed but a hall full of melting and fell apart snowman sure is still fill. The sun seemed faster as they walked out further. so many of them,

"this has to be the coolest thing ive ever done"

"watch out for the melting faces"

still on stalk, they could hear talking. was it kids? all they could think. why it was impossible not to just either be scared or amazed. the same face, faces facing. about two months worth of snowmen. it was like one of the wonder's of theworld that may have led on to something strange in the same matter somewhere else.

you don't forget something like this, yet they melt

ego mania

Posted  by barrett on February 16, 2014 at 1:40 PM

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jepordized cats by 3 ran down the midnight windy road, half slanted. A crew at the construction had already started shipping in parts. cats in three, in these parts both ran and ran for nothing, for nothing would be cat-like in fact.

where did the cats go?.. on all fours as they should. they forrayed at the fortress in the foyer of another formidable straight. and then half slanted. now two streets down. they could still here the truck.

the cats made it to the edge of the field three streets down and looked around. tacktful amazing cats like seen nearcurtains curtailed the night and made it under a cabin.

the cats live there now, on three strands of purpose.

a notice of reflection

Posted  by barrett on February 15, 2014 at 3:15 PM

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every shadow reaches its limit independent of the troughs it spans and the displacement increases with a maximum amount of darkness, im thinking desert sands.

as these higher degrees, the sun creates lower, as we travel and stay still, just how stay still becomes none whatsoever.

their then must be an amount of darkness independent of the absence of reflection in directory, plus natural shadow governed amount, that places what id call foil or a shadow on the ground, initially it may be a change in temperature, though how does it go from a natural then down.

This could be how the temperature changes, a notice of reflection (from other surfaces)

this reminds me of clouds that must go through this totally reflectively.

the olympics are on

Posted  by barrett on February 15, 2014 at 2:10 PM

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naivety can be so reassuring, yet bliss can render ignorance in itis defense.

if a blimp went by that looked like a cloud would it render in sincere delivery?

the pilot, plots, the wind doesn't shrink, yet the whole show is only a makeup.

of what the astute really think.

trumpet

Posted  by barrett on February 12, 2014 at 4:10 PM

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at convenience at last alack alas again. gainful threading...softly treading; endearment!, through around an iconoclastic circa forecast inspiration.

grateful rodsman sporting width with a colleauge of magnetic softly treading, trouble is, no one will know the connection they spread

on a planet several gloves were washed in a basin and the hands went cold. for several days.

intelligently resembling hand gloves, fake hand gloves were made. no connection to the eye or face, though the hands were spread out gently. and partisan to flock alack tacking auto-bastions was mercury.

favourites hammered and withered succint oceanic mysticisms that brought back the primer, trouble is, though no one for several days made no connection mercury.

gowns

Posted  by barrett on February 6, 2014 at 5:25 AM

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sora, soars a swoiree for her ad'or'a. wherein Wilting arose such suspicion, with'in a city grown by. on the eve of an aurora, therein quick stitching force her meridian to a timid aura, or an orphan scanning for spies with no warrant, Though fleeting everyday. it goes without saying one will, will, win over what is chaste, won't we into maybe strong and safe allowed to be prayers. And as one swimming in and out the door'of her past shores, her flora always sitting bipartisan though taken in a wake of what is more, while all her insides are our pouring.

they're in

Posted  by barrett on February 5, 2014 at 9:35 PM

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it just so happens; without knowledge. that is enough for some; yet independent. stressed as thumbs.

typeface orate

a glee club for all the maidens of the spade.

cat's eye, one

as precipitate to colleague, mentionable through this and that, the marble's chief export is force.

no flogging of the gnat.

and where can you buy a tile with a letter on it?

et cetera

lemonade

Posted  by barrett on February 5, 2014 at 3:10 PM

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oh look at that." she said with a common stumble,

he was all ready to reach for something. and down they went.

she awoke  in front of the business, and ordered once, but twice

wherein he said "i will not drink lemonade!"

and took a stand.

Chances May

Posted  by barrett on February 5, 2014 at 3:05 PM

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tidings, behold ye grand dealings. these things of common place tidings, be, holding ye grand dealings.

and then some artifact a few away, flew away in the mishap, like mishapen clay

and then around again, i found it, i found it

foundings of forwards for words.

where wars' bottles' stay

lay down along the ebb.

and follow out, too old

and noisily buoy,

until, un-tilled

until whatever

chances may.

downward spiral

Posted  by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 6:15 AM

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down the man made hall.

wherever it is, its dark

se much for a good window.

meanwhile it's plateglass

The midnighter - 3 Aurora

Posted  by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 6:00 AM

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I wonder what happens when you happen to be blessed, thank you… all concurrent I think we need a rest in an ambiguous dance I held these hands like chapters of a book, in an unmentionable glance I took in the power of its post postulate and deemed it its corruption… through the snowbanks such in the life of things you know and crushin’ snow and ice while the nothing in response is rooted to the foot of the glacier, moving at made up thaw speeds below the radio wave transmissions’ level all to say something up up and below sea level.i

some gathering

Posted by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 4:10 AM

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awaiting a loop in rest and relax

i say, the motion of the cars is backed

only by a few mile delay.

'someone said it brings in the cold air

on it's tracks

with no cares yet, the stack stays full of it

until it sotps, and that happense all day.

...

Posted  by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 4:00 AM

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I'm beginning to take notice of the windchill

solly

Posted  by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 3:05 AM

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Isolate liquid dyslexic arresting less of this, when wilt today’s catches and matches into the circle of a half force of the opposite, wherein the fastest regulates the passive into fire that whips the air like lisps.

And the ailing cannot commit to the risks the migratory mitigation memories memorize and test the air for following into the wrong places with this: fire, licking the atmosphere now for more than the awakened like flares’ to.

All done spirits spiral in likewise, find terminals and enter into the extraneous versions of sleep, encasing, wait, facing the irregularities in warmth that take down several forces of this fire, and into they go.

The air now frigid, the sniffs sapped, the gifted, mapped, sever each other in some sort of collapse, until matches fall into the hands.

Alive and dash-full digits undoing cold with world left forever take apart severances turn to warmth, awake then spread fire like-with their faces, encased waiting bows and kindling.

Lucid laughter and meals of forbearance break into now and outside wait the polarizing natural wake. On the eve of a Sunday.

thankyou

Posted  by barrett on January 29, 2014 at 2:50 AM

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id like to give you all a thank youvii

im sorry i missed the banquet

but its true i love this language

this lost in the moment, treasure and the anguish

sinking feeling deep into meaning

something else sheeps and weening

on a bend a lament to laminate

the character you've twisted fate for

negates the sentiment and scapes for

the moment that they meet

with the treasure chest, of expectation estimates

rendering drops

dendria 2

Posted  by barrett on January 25, 2014 at 5:50 PM

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built again ruins, falling away slowly, receive rennovations that transform and coo the ta'. when that seeping inner shadow plane, feels normal go it pa'. forever endearing structures of a nuisance cascading in a roman clockwork at best, time will mystify and transform that slew the star.

bar by bar up or down, and around in no complexion, waiting for connection. signals.

basic ideas, racy slices of inert artifacts. building

nothing cene or cemented.

though fashioned and effervescent,

this is easier to describe.

trouble

Posted  by barrett on January 25, 2014 at 5:45 PM

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sensitivity is a lot like two things combined.

pencil network connectivity is a lot like a wine.

stencilled pent up directed as and at activity

is a lot like a spine.

tho the plane is in doubt in the same way.

for the matter, we have light, and light we see is or an expression of our decay.

the building blocks of tetris, like cycloptic arraignment

The Shadow Plane

Posted  by barrett on January 25, 2014 at 5:40 PM

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so much space, an avenue... do say its cold.

on one avenue, of leisure enfibrocated effort, a legion borth it's que.

'what if not oft to of certain take triangles like normal fading issah?

then that is the shadow's space, irregardless of lot and command, the shadow relies on its inability to function independently.

'would oft fire or light command it hitherto?

the light speaketh cold and alone can be seen as all encompassing, for infront.

'not oft the light shine behind us, tho we cannot see the light?

aye.

'what for matter instill light as enlightment and fire in one's being

the very same that shine in place.

'oh for

tbc

dendria

Posted by barrett on January 23, 2014 at 2:55 PM

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scraggly branches of umbrella wannabe snapdragons, habadash the ringer for a ben franklin mishap. in those gaps and brink by brink we jump as locusts to become ordered like one such blip, in entries.          

«

Those that thaw tea

Posted  by barrett on January 13, 2014 at 6:40 PM

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for some reason i had the idea that Christopher Columbus smelt the word "spice"

revision:

he may have smelt spices

Gargoyle (part three)

Posted  by barrett on January 13, 2014 at 6:35 PM

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Gracious gill, go graciously, guilty

Stain. Just Great, guessing

Garrison gargles rain today.

Tertiary Secant (it was a strange time in part two)

Posted  by barrett on January 13, 2014 at 6:30 PM

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Test the foil. And Remain Central

Fly the pestal, past the point of

Tesla Royal Crawl like fanblades

'till you can't see the soil.

Loyal Type treason feesibly Reaping Flats; so tangentiently mapped, I don't even feel.

Reek of havac, ad hoc, vox, populi

Moire populi proximately stops.

Etymology frost, latin fabric

Stock, short flaws paucity

prone antidisestablishmentarianism

plus talk. Rotterdam sophist plane

shocked. Cost Connote adverb.

Deneoument.

A Poe Requiem (part one)

Posted  by barrett on January 13, 2014 at 6:25 PM

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I would like to find a case of stone, being of course, ordered and inbelievably narrated as thus printed in proper format and altogether coagulated - as one might find - situated indelibly: so liberated as to communicate with a page. As oppose to ideally mentioning a black wood article in grave extinct poetic impulsivity, such as that which creates itself then follows suit, thereby retracting a facade indelibly as a moment in time reflects a moment in time, As to be unaware of distinction possibly as a denotation, connoting taste in red books and/or that which covers them ahead though not about a apage or binding dimension of something so bitter it would crease everytime you touched it forever.

good evening.

Posted  by barrett on January 13, 2014 at 6:20 PM

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just started reading The Fellowship of the Rings, post-hobbit. the page 39 i think is the most exciting fiction i think i've read, then i went for a walk... 'thinking... "the book is about how far writers have to go."

anyway the above is some odds from my stay at a village from late Feb. to late July last year.

'battling the word bronchitis like a doctor needs the sponser, sick of sedatives a single edge making medicine a contraceptive, contrary to reason and response seeks a mild heiroglyph. tonal frequency tangential fireworks plus start dragons, read em. slash maintenance,

reperations in a box.

eyedea rest in peace.

good morning again

Posted  by barrett on January 12, 2014 at 4:00 PM

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start dragons, snapping like crabgrass. arranged like a special arrowhead. experimenting with wave tradition, in the middle of an angler's storm. when will they be caught; its cover, probably not.

to decieve and arrange the city!

the knights of the high order, under oath to cache the grass, catch the intruders, and bring trouble to malice's last.

"foam fingers"

if it wasn't for the excitement something of the highest order may be carried out... on a large flat wagon backing, with the backing of the construct's guilt.

but wait, there is smores!

victor, the candle maker arises in the first wind tunnel on there way back. "I care... us...we do not need too much flame. eaten.

and out come the flame eaters, to be continued

eight style

Posted  by barrett on January 12, 2014 at 1:30 AM

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Pluto Platonic cursed the word

It seems now, more ironic

Then ever it was where heard

Loose-spikes laconic that platitude: song is.

In a world of definition the body is least seen. Intangible greets the far-strays of what is not capable of definition. Long-breathed listing breeches the apprehension likewise. In a world of definition the body is perceived.

"and so"

-M. Averill

Journal Entries in Blood Part three

Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 11:50 PM

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I don't know what is going on! I got a call from a surveryer the other day and he asked me where I lived. could it be lupus?

back in the groove.

Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 11:30 PM

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i sat there. their were too many distractions. there was a rubic's cube on the table. "wait till it knows you he said."  it can't be much more difficult then a spread sheet, or that's where i had to be. the colorless sticker had a logo in the middle. who in their right mind i thought. i drank some earl grey tea i had beside me, decided to give it a shot, casually comforted my torso, but let my feet detail the ornament. i pictured it perfect. corners first. how curious? i've seen it done, were those hands mine? im a mole. inside the block language, i let go of the absurd cube... and fell into revery, does this explain the cube? alrite alrite, "wait till the cube knows you'

in my bed with the thing waiting over there i found a need to make note of it. somewhere.  

for what? 'wait till it knows you'.

isolating the colors

opening jars

a jaguar ran past the window and i thought a little differently, there has to be a solution potent enough for the cube to be at one with itself, though finishing it... a time sensitive purchase. to frame? expand and demote maybe, what could all of this be, the jaguar.

don't forget

Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 10:45 PM

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i can't forget octopusses.

thats because youre namesake is a suction cup.

no heed to levity

no head for s'up

sushi around the edges,

paint on the frame.

i can't forget about octopusses

how many times i can refrain

notice

Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 9:20 PM

comments (1)

around where i live they changed the street lights from purple to white.

so far i've figured,

its not as luxurious a settings while walking, its quite distressing, and its brighter. in that order plus now, give or take a few levels of NaCl

warning

Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 8:35 PM

comments (1)

the ocean is filled with octopuses. thats good i think for the time being. but squids might be inked octopuses too. either way, or, either sea creature, dendrites may look like people.

don't think too much about octopuses.

and

oil is purple i think, it doesn't turn grey does it, and black is basically lack of light, and/or not enough energy to produce the photoelectric effect, so maybe we're octopus cells, or psychologists didn't understand squids.

no evidence required.

don't use ink, or you might think its oil.

warrings.

Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 8:10 PM

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twitter representatives, ie, share holders should all say pie enought until the art of time swallows them the thing the pin as sty, in the eve of warring with a site, i cited mine as an x for such suspicion links as turuses, natural causes, inked soon like the former when everyone has popcorn but my. started thinking about when corn is grown and stuff, yup. anyways tune in too to channel two whatever news it has is certainly blue. audience scribes.

curtains

Posted  by barrett on November 27, 2013 at 8:50 PM

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the incredibly dressed man walked into the shop. there was a lot of, slightly lesser-quality-dressed men in there, of which he took a casual glance. He then turned to the cashier walking by and asked the following question: "how much for your lesser-quality scarves on display?", to which the cashier replied "your money is no good here. take a scarf." The finely clad gentleman replied, "i would like help selecting one.", to which the cashier replied. "how about the red one?", to which the finally clad gentleman replied. "yes. that is the one for me."

the first snow

Posted  by barrett on November 23, 2013 at 11:30  PM

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             With new ultraviolet lamps the wind certainly had straight up squalls in spells

and in and out evernow and in an hour by snow was seen gliding in close snowflake-like circles

on the eve of war

Posted  by barrett on November 20, 2013 at 8:30 PM

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"Fellow scarecrows and blacken, tonight comes the adjoining of the fence. we do not know what will come of this, but make sure that you take this to heart... we have all served, done our part, needless to say that it is fit for each and everyone of us to remain strong. the straw candy is at the back.

travaille

Posted  by barrett on November 20, 2013 at 2:30 PM

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a recipe of pure spice sat at the oven then now the table. strongly stirring was abated and the cook abscond. a lucid bond of memories on this november night, where no one could respond, eating salt and celery, onion powder and garlic, oregano and cilantro, with passed around tomato paste cans for membership. All of a sudden the cook comes back and opens the can of tomato paste. "mix!" some decided to drink, some decided to sip. the bowls were almost overflowing with the stuff. The drinks were too helpful. the spoons too overcooked. The woman in the dress faints after sayiing "oh the horror". her husband rushes to find some smelling salts but can't take it.

snake faucet

Posted  by barrett on November 19, 2013 at 9:10 PM

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If a book did a good build a house metaphor it would probably be about kids growing up.

A wot in riot, try relax tyrant.

Viper-shadow dance till both are cuspits.

An infection tolerating nothing dance as lust is,

When snake comes from the pit and languid is the rushes.

fade away type wot,i feel i could be a character in a house, but,

There is no general engineering of my own making to advance more.

Salary! take yourself higher... all the while the celery droar is empty.

I could probably write about a house with snakes and celery... I just don't know how to start.

'Possibly I need to exit more, or find a snake in the celery droar.

Maybe I need to open up a bit more, or see a droar shook like a snake.

What possibly makes a good story is the lack of snakes.

It's possible that everyone has already read a similar story.

The passage of stories are much like snakes through a house,

Top to bottom, sometimes sending more and more, from the snake-faucet.

Mainly there are gargoyles on the house, which the snakes protect.

But it could even be one short story that slid away.

clearly

Lull (the midnighter)

Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 7:35 PM

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seeing away from a shadow in the eyes

for chose thy habbit to dwell upon i've assured

miser to those who hold me up in time

yesterday is gone and its already now

down grounded found out, skittish, down grounded found out skittish

whereas the weakness depletes, rigging what seats, the colder you are the less your bound to know in memory leeks what seats, toss and turn in sheets.

alls well

Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 6:20 PM

comments (0)

Fire like movement stayed still for spark. A hollow log. fleeing shadows stayed still for a moment. An unearthly smog. This is the place of control, no one has to wait, but wait for me now, 'for now we all stay. Croutons on the circle if it be menace, blades of grass if it be 'let us' and your drink if you think you're ready.

I'll bet your bottom dollar you thought I'd be the type with a guitar, I brought one once long ago, though it didn't help me author. This guitar has been in my keeping, for some time. I played licks, riffs, and chords that I thought were only mine. Tonight I bring you darkness and light, because that's what time it is, as we look into the fire.

This penchant for music I had ran deep. variables of sound that I would often fall asleep too, Back in the day I also studied the flute, but it took my breath away.

Anyway the song I once heard that will focus this greeting, is about the flow of instrument conception, and what the music is really getting to. I say, stay away from the instrument and play vulnerable to it's conception, the first one made already splays all of us in one direction. Fading and fading out like a cypress, once it detaches, puts up spokes or spicates for capture. and no one knows after, Let this time be a lesson to you, because its always been a sayiing, with me and the others, that its not the person, but the shadow that is what is practised

notice

Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 9:20 PM

comments (1)

around where i live they changed the street lights from purple to white.

so far i've figured,

its not as luxurious a settings while walking, its quite distressing, and its brighter. in that order plus now, give or take a few levels of NaCl

warning

Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 8:35 PM

comments (1)

the ocean is filled with octopuses. thats good i think for the time being. but squids might be inked octopuses too. either way, or, either sea creature, dendrites may look like people.

don't think too much about octopuses.

and

oil is purple i think, it doesn't turn grey does it, and black is basically lack of light, and/or not enough energy to produce the photoelectric effect, so maybe we're octopus cells, or psychologists didn't understand squids.

no evidence required.

don't use ink, or you might think its oil.

warrings.

Posted  by barrett on January 11, 2014 at 8:10 PM

comments (0)

twitter representatives, ie, share holders should all say pie enought until the art of time swallows them the thing the pin as sty, in the eve of warring with a site, i cited mine as an x for such suspicion links as turuses, natural causes, inked soon like the former when everyone has popcorn but my. started thinking about when corn is grown and stuff, yup. anyways tune in too to channel two whatever news it has is certainly blue. audience scribes.

curtains

Posted  by barrett on November 27, 2013 at 8:50 PM

comments (0)

the incredibly dressed man walked into the shop. there was a lot of, slightly lesser-quality-dressed men in there, of which he took a casual glance. He then turned to the cashier walking by and asked the following question: "how much for your lesser-quality scarves on display?", to which the cashier replied "your money is no good here. take a scarf." The finely clad gentleman replied, "i would like help selecting one.", to which the cashier replied. "how about the red one?", to which the finally clad gentleman replied. "yes. that is the one for me."

the first snow

Posted  by barrett on November 23, 2013 at 11:30  PM

comments (0)

             With new ultraviolet lamps the wind certainly had straight up squalls in spells

and in and out evernow and in an hour by snow was seen gliding in close snowflake-like circles

on the eve of war

Posted  by barrett on November 20, 2013 at 8:30 PM

comments (0)

"Fellow scarecrows and blacken, tonight comes the adjoining of the fence. we do not know what will come of this, but make sure that you take this to heart... we have all served, done our part, needless to say that it is fit for each and everyone of us to remain strong. the straw candy is at the back.

travaille

Posted  by barrett on November 20, 2013 at 2:30 PM

comments (0)

a recipe of pure spice sat at the oven then now the table. strongly stirring was abated and the cook abscond. a lucid bond of memories on this november night, where no one could respond, eating salt and celery, onion powder and garlic, oregano and cilantro, with passed around tomato paste cans for membership. All of a sudden the cook comes back and opens the can of tomato paste. "mix!" some decided to drink, some decided to sip. the bowls were almost overflowing with the stuff. The drinks were too helpful. the spoons too overcooked. The woman in the dress faints after sayiing "oh the horror". her husband rushes to find some smelling salts but can't take it.

snake faucet

Posted  by barrett on November 19, 2013 at 9:10 PM

comments (0)

If a book did a good build a house metaphor it would probably be about kids growing up.

A wot in riot, try relax tyrant.

Viper-shadow dance till both are cuspits.

An infection tolerating nothing dance as lust is,

When snake comes from the pit and languid is the rushes.

fade away type wot,i feel i could be a character in a house, but,

There is no general engineering of my own making to advance more.

Salary! take yourself higher... all the while the celery droar is empty.

I could probably write about a house with snakes and celery... I just don't know how to start.

'Possibly I need to exit more, or find a snake in the celery droar.

Maybe I need to open up a bit more, or see a droar shook like a snake.

What possibly makes a good story is the lack of snakes.

It's possible that everyone has already read a similar story.

The passage of stories are much like snakes through a house,

Top to bottom, sometimes sending more and more, from the snake-faucet.

Mainly there are gargoyles on the house, which the snakes protect.

But it could even be one short story that slid away.

clearly

Lull (the midnighter)

Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 7:35 PM

comments (0)

seeing away from a shadow in the eyes

for chose thy habbit to dwell upon i've assured

miser to those who hold me up in time

yesterday is gone and its already now

down grounded found out, skittish, down grounded found out skittish

whereas the weakness depletes, rigging what seats, the colder you are the less your bound to know in memory leeks what seats, toss and turn in sheets.

alls well

Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 6:20 PM

comments (0)

Fire like movement stayed still for spark. A hollow log. fleeing shadows stayed still for a moment. An unearthly smog. This is the place of control, no one has to wait, but wait for me now, 'for now we all stay. Croutons on the circle if it be menace, blades of grass if it be 'let us' and your drink if you think you're ready.

I'll bet your bottom dollar you thought I'd be the type with a guitar, I brought one once long ago, though it didn't help me author. This guitar has been in my keeping, for some time. I played licks, riffs, and chords that I thought were only mine. Tonight I bring you darkness and light, because that's what time it is, as we look into the fire.

This penchant for music I had ran deep. variables of sound that I would often fall asleep too, Back in the day I also studied the flute, but it took my breath away.

Anyway the song I once heard that will focus this greeting, is about the flow of instrument conception, and what the music is really getting to. I say, stay away from the instrument and play vulnerable to it's conception, the first one made already splays all of us in one direction. Fading and fading out like a cypress, once it detaches, puts up spokes or spicates for capture. and no one knows after, Let this time be a lesson to you, because its always been a sayiing, with me and the others, that its not the person, but the shadow that

indigenous allegory

Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 5:50 PM

comments (0)

appaulled pollen pales in comparison to the pollen that rests on petals. how it got them a long may have been a string of things though that's not what I'm taunting. windy lights but shake a bit sometimes, though we may do the same if its a certain time. years come forth but never yield, though somehow we make them, is there an ace in our defence that goes for kingdom. her majesty settled her brow, and provocatively talked in an octave key, about how it was okay to overlook some bane, and what builds us up... to movement, the darkness rising, like tomorrow was an image in a camera with some daily extracts from the extravaganza.

scratch

Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 5:30 PM

comments (0)

Quite like it, like it was never seen before. Amazing and conspicuous. A menace monolith, deadening the simplicity of the visit.

antinomy

Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 4:35 PM

comments (0)

It was off without a pence. A penchant pence for pent up thrillings. the inn keeper didn't want me to mention but though I fathomed his wisdom. he needs the slips for the slip. and a sip for sip with him is a way to lose out, though I dare not mention my arrangement now, the house down the street it shall be slipping in here and I need not tell you more. I am to clean the whole house top to bottom, without looking in the closets, and yet its all I can think of as of now.

I knock on the door

"We are just leaving." "perfect. perfect for looking through closets."

"ah you kid me."

"well, surely I will look through your closets even though you ask not of me."

"that is not wise."

"this is irrefutable."

"we shall increase your wage if you give me your word you will not look through the closets.'

"I am not in this for the wage, for you see, I am a notorious closet searcher."

"I trust you are kidding this whole time."

"Why don't we both go take a look inside one of your closets?"

that's when the man's wife came to the door.

"let's go henry."

"yes, off you go, I can't be looking through closets with all this exchange."

"he's kidding I trust."

"no, no, I shall clean your house, and look through your closets."

"just let him look through the closets."

"this is not good"

To be continued somehow

at technology

Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 4:25 PM

comments (0)

"look at this"

"its brilliant"

"What is it"

"I think they call it technology"

"it reminds me a flower."

"she's got to see this."

'what does it do?"

"well anything you want it to."

"how'd you get it?"

"I made it"

"out of what?"

"the old stuff"

"I have a bad feeling."

"don't worry, here have it"

\"why are you giving it to me?"

"so that you're responsible."

correction (midnighter bits)

Posted  by barrett on November 16, 2013 at 3:45 PM

comments (0)

While drifting attached to slings and wings with this serious dart to one off side clings steering us, belted to the start... of anything or else it's missing, rifts and shelves, part and parts, clearly enough tipping, continuously lifting, a string bridge bubble stopped... so much like rain I and we almost faint as we make it below the ceiling, it's about since now I tell you in the clouds I always have a sinking feeling that's why I mention isn't there a place set for all this cradling, my word is obeying, my world so strung she almost couldn't use lungs

do you feel that jinx ice cold sculptures relocating extraneously (that's) what a jacket can do bring her home truth is i'm freezing and seeing through things quickly, you?

spot 2:50 one caged assured absurd movements make it in this place like I say like I said like I dream place encased stays but never erased debased down to zero for the moment though its always never the same, if it wasn't so much of a play placer i'd erase it, note to self: do later, no matter to charge no horse to hold up bars and in the epitome of everything i'd say it how-wronged... slipped away

like I say like I said

just mapping on the charge, it's far away somehow I know it's almost dawn, drawn to the refrain of the digits such a limit to the timid trepidation I feel, nothing reel, one's back, blissful in this soft kiss moment, I almost kneel, not allowed somehow listening to real as well seems pensive and in its peacemeal splendor I unreel a demeanor of heel pivot and off to the postulates that lost their limits

to make it, face, entropy replacement farther forth in the same direction so I can sleep.

and that

Posted  by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 6:50 PM

comments (0)

everyday is a learning order for disorder. More snow on your cellar door than mordor could offer. might toggle time. where offerrings of snow are like the most pleasant the tallest will get and short with thine, tho in turn a true burner of it who calls it by his quill, an upheavle into reticence, he since may mistake his grill, tho gills be hard to come by, they offer expanse, but if a fish could smoke, could it really just be thought and dance, the first time touched offering quilt from the tucker, as some often say, though id stray and be a sucker, candles and matches, could one hinge another and call itself like a gladdist, setting stone? prone to tone, alone to won? the footprints already lead indoors. "what happens when the cellar door is closed?

why that's when the wind doesn't howl as much.

eight hours allay later delay.

"this"

scary kids

Posted  by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 6:40 PM

comments (0)

The kid who pronounced monseiur correctly called me one, and now I think I need a doctor.

Nature habbit

Posted  by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 5:05 PM

comments (0)

Isolated, mixed, abused, never allowed to be, I so late, dyed an egg and meant therefore to be aware.

Start

Posted  by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 5:00 PM

comments (0)

Predessors'

ghost channel

Posted  by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 4:45 PM

comments (1)

here we are learning, leaning and warring over over seas, aborting plans for starlit nights with starlit kites. 'its like enjoy the kite young one, cuz when it breaks you should be strung out, or we\ll make one, anyway landing on a nuance that could populate a reason for metaphor in a poet companion, at this time we'd be watching lights move, but at this point we stand one. and finally when thee stars really come out we see the same things just on the widest crystal apparency magnetically acheiving broadness through father straws that were antler'ing into the sawdust. of to build a network of yes and no, knowledge and whats fa'struck, timid coloring from an upgathering and lots of ghosts to come. but its a hassle at this time of year, unless your ready to make snowmen. and prone to be a blend again with fences fencing in the pendulum of a creation... seriously its either the moon or the fandom, so gloriate and sorry yet, earlier we knew we found one, but at this time it\s like they're family, oh Rion, and split apart.

Worst worth

Posted  by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 4:40 PM

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Tipping point of slang versus slang verse tipping point versus the universe.

What's worst? Birth or the end of learning? or the worst thing you can think of versus versus?

Terse movements of Earth dripping into worthwhile for the North, caverns caving in for the curse? Birth of a new proffession, lots of girth movinng sideways into the first. Though I dare to remember what's worst.

the niceness of good applejuice

Posted  by barrett on November 15, 2013 at 4:20 PM

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oh that's good, might get some more

thank you

Posted  by barrett on November 13, 2013 at 5:35 PM

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Why is the clock the slowest processor at times? is it a gimmick? it seems all ac/dc clocks are complicated machine though why the strangest and most reliant? is strange tolerable? is it necassary to make what is often the biggest proportion interesting, almost fully literally. When will that thing on the wall at work, and by your bedside hang upside down? when will it be written? is the latter even possible? circles i guess, merit the injustice of nature, and straight lines give us a picture of what is real.ie. a real long time ago we had no measure of what we call our updated time.

untitled

Posted  by barrett on November 13, 2013 at 12:25  AM

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In September of the same year, I had started taking some philosophy classes. It was a relief to hear a professor’s voice and be around the same type. This man who sat next to me always had something to say, and I always troubled him with my questions, rather than get the professor’s textbook response.

ease combine

Posted  by barrett on November 12, 2013 at 1:50 AM

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Fleeing decently receding Thee peace bequeath a Special lease undone to Thee uneasy, peacefully piecing treats and cleats to be the steam in your bereft unleashing.

Reasonably fleecing treason speeding, by beating leading, leading led on straws deleting creases in specious reasoning pleading speaking weakening bleak defeatings, deeking weaklings seeing creaking beaten fourteens, (like lying Shakespearian greetings)

Some lyrics

Posted  by barrett on November 12, 2013 at 12:15  AM

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Astral plane travellin main making it rain in courtships with the southern hemisphere

It pits the sane against the bane of existence why flames rap around my cylindrical dame

Fame or fortune, beyond repair, vague disorder that retracts the flaps to shape the borders

We amass at centre stage taking plague pills to stand straight with the grain, korn is played out loud roars are heard our heard roams the fields in search of cookies with the help of yellow birds, tomatoes silly i get sight of word no one else can cure the ham like i can, we all say it from now on its to be debated. soft ware. thoughts pair like ruffles. truffle trifle, despite an eyefull of eggnog thats delightful when nightly chilled, its a real type night like where nikes are pronounced without the ease psych running down the street like a chain gun through belts of bullets, just like we already hit it, but wait its limping, pump another 15 inbetween

I SHARPEN MINE WITH A PORCUPINE ANVIL

TWIST RIGHT THROUGH THE FOREST LIKE RAMBO

LOOKIN UP I CAN SEE THE CANOPY TANGO

RAN OUT OF LEAVES SO I DO THE SAME TILL I CANT STAND STILL

STILT SPAN THEN A DANCE OVER TO TAMPER WITH THE RANDOM

THERES NO CONNECTION LIKE

i shake a format its raining dormats been so dormant taking hearty napps just to anchor the important, need some time stamps

erase the golden doctrine in the synapse. no one s levy enough to bout the brevity in the such is life set i say all jittery jit jit ju jitsu

i been lending beats breaks and beaks to a philosophic dove who entreats us with thoughts on love.

enough enough through the rough away away ebb out on 4 rate one one zero tarot sparrow near so

i take the bureau out. bust it up, and rob deniro

take his timestamps i need em primed and printed,

so i run to business depot, for no other reason, to complete this friggin sequence.

of mistreated hedon readings succeeding to shoddy reason.

i caught up, lost down, can't stop now, or is that all that's left to do other than be reknowned

constantly haunting thee, shores of the city. just waiting for petty pitty. hello kitty

welcome to the gritty morning drippy! catnip cacti sour milk, fourty billion bagpipes compressed into one thats compressing as one i know, its rather wintry mutiny mints be pressing coinage

to outlaw the fifty, over ten, like the quilt cakes go on forever. what i couldn't compressed with some oculence, endeavor trocking benz, was it a miracle, i sub segway into the equation to duress the mother quill staying still,

now mathematics still rocking the beat, i play a live show chalkboard scratches and screech

that dove comes back almost always so mosy or treat, this as a lament, boring as heat, heathrow, or wheat

to find the concrete solid would be solid, promise to sheet, i'll make you like the stairs

take a staircase to stars see the features form feats yours are the detours reversed and forward

lets talk a way with the run of a theoretical cave. no one can distound the word, but i propound that it might be used today

and onward we steal way to the rise of figurative sway, say siya, ger tiger druid adroit in winning bays. like it was thought from the rise of one kinda stay all the razed sand takes time to make marigolds bend for disdain ... taking orders from rhyme rate and rhyme stages. a way awya away awya away

taking time to reach the heights of midday placement, thirty seconds till i select the taste of vapour i want to takein house the truncated space favour. i might be thought astray but i walk around the minor's gold with a samsonite briefcase,

ghostship sailing without a rudder or prime directive known for frequenting the bottom dwellers

cafe halfway to armeggedon. or was it magellans last nebula a regular really to one of them, just because within the perfect beginnings now the serpents bellow, trembling sirens to vibratto and spacemermaids retelling of the chirades we surfaced as we become part of the wayward tasteless face off complacents stasis. mongering for the love of targeting ongoing rowing like it was a safe november remember me december before i turn all cold and the harpoons sharpen, or is it that the whale hunt broadens. at worlds with atwood saturating avenues with lampwick, can't collide within perfect spellings or desert dwellings ill forever be a nomad if i can't depict my addressing

when the sun warms up to a more spacious leash, i'll find the eclipse at zero anywhere then considered east, feast upon the pragmatism of a less collected beast, i beleive we could direct the warmth if we weren't such a leach.

but from astronomical units a way! trompe de loeil anyway tropical fish could say that they were the spacemermaids if we created an atlantis out of the moons dazzling race. we are moonmen, straight from sol. we ebb out when we we're home and flow when we're alone, saddling the satellite, we're prone to find our way through the ozone

to beseech the moon for a nightcap we dazzle if we say.during the night timbre an unhearty right of ways. say slay midnight a rigormortis today simpler. i'll see you in the sky maybe you could even decay yourorbit and yourself as atlantis create. i'll wonder why i never swam to the moon reflection sooner cuz thats what the scene looks like today anyway and im guessing that thats where i'll find poseidon, namor, my living self, need i say more, i already patched an echo, thoughts on techno. if i wasn't on a ghost pirate ship i'd say hellno.

but i am, man and energy, combatting trams, just to reflect on techno. i blame technology and i don't want to let go of this 3 dimensional circular pancake special

regimented invented sentences go beyond reflection to the source caveat the cohort about this sort of rhythmic aggression. is it right to sport the thunder from the enlightning sounds which one dismisses your retention and rounds off the order for mention the voice that goes before the penchant for this... hedge cut by edward with handhands,

those who know, slowly form 3d spirals cascading rival circular articles.

perhaps charred at the centre, which they never winter or reach farther than

but come to terms with as the enter. o

ffending off hand remarks with off ended marks

it got them on the naughty list. i'll take the shelves over cars.

my self as the trough, clearly the mirror doesn't even delay like that

what about stars, ripped from the crux, of cuba or art, wherefore art though shard

of diamond, to rip the glass apart

and spread time farther into this apartment's heart

second hand practically dipping, the ringdom's king won't accept infringing

for we all talk of wisdom, but when we see it, fear impinges.

i guess thats why the fireplace distances the grinch, can fire really do that timid

i enter, watching fear dissolve, probably fallacy will glady rattle me till i

make it around our galaxy. tattle be: he sat upon a comfy seat, used his hands to run along with sheep

thats how the wolf leans posit r in the nearest neutron star so we all can see

now: clandestine, arresting and reversing first impressions, neglecting mention of the monolithic beginnings

the talk of wisdom, repetitious system driven listen kissing. serving spaceships-and- remaining distant im sans which one track former 5letter wiccan tonal rhythm beta cheiftain fact checking missionary warner brother in the rights of written painstaking freedoms given by the statutes of any listener with a written consent form from themselves in triplicate sitting lightly on the statue of liberty within limits, lest fence intrinsic power trippin. dippin into doves, loud and runny, the dog barks, not because its hungry. maybe tryna be funny. can't wait until its sunny.

maybe this one will be far enough away not to mention wrongs.

i take the tongs, ostrich egg and think hard

theirs got to be a way to baldwin these 2 and a half articles into a song

tongs, ostrich egg

tongs, ostrich egg, song

theres no limit think of plymouth talkin stephen hawkins theory finished

singularities please, points of no return... believe, we all can sneeze our way out of a feesibly incandescent beam decay, asscent from turbulent censorship. ..bent on bringing out the zest from the best of the less frequent orange tips and depth.

might as well turn a profit, rest and sip, erupting through the roster would have to be dollarage star sign tolerable milestone doctorate imposters

talking over lemonade like they lost the game.

but its funny how it happens some don't feel ashamed.

is it up to them or us to find the just in just a jist of the business sifting through it

like we weren't impressive, impressing triplicates like they said all the while

meanwhile the meandering catalouge the froglike fossils

round off the relics to shear impossible

so where the crystal at, its calling kane and i aint a palladin yet i cant escape these trap doors that enforces that theres a force that doesn't want me getting close to a pure geometric source, now i know this wasn't in the brochure but i do read more, into the lore that says the mystical quest has been dealt with, i thought cid died, hes always coming back

and it all came together like anythin but fairweather such antithetical proclamations cant get any better, down a river, about a route down a river to the root

it was all the same till your name graced the page now im outta redundancies other than grey crock tame. lil advil beggar with a cane sugar its abundant like flame igniting the rudder im fighting the shudder of a 7th inning stretch with no where to place bets but at least theres

its wonderful and cumbersome to be in love with the way something sounds

seriously troublesome to be running out of sound. i take apart a three of hearts with my bare hands for no other reason than speaking bound to text and

through the wire, patches fire is scented luncheon latches lock and higher places are rented

the unlimited premonitions of a license to feel symply isn't rhythmic

its symbolic though mainly systolic diastolic when you don't really feel, something's still turning the wheel. and whats yield-ed is.

This brink sparked how,way at mad him reflect. He couldn't possibly, but that didn't restrict the limits of independence.

I break a bushel and shuffle into the city centre, mentoring an artiste with no headtrip that got the better of me. Just waiting to delete the layers of snowdrift amounting amounting bit by bit on typed strips of thin clipped papyrus enticing systems of revision like listening to televisions on the warring channel blips conspire rhythm on the ss give me more the trick is timid wisdoms like shake a stick at the wired wisps and the crispex perspectivisms dishing out the dirt on the

Some lyrics

Posted  by barrett on November 12, 2013 at 12:10  AM

comments (0)

i

April 2nd, 2012

It's got to be April Second today. It can't be April First everyday can it? Well can it.

Well-crafted

its puzzling the rubble road ending at the hubble telescope,

never, always, sometimes, sure. x3

is it elastic... bands which keep me rapping?

fans in tandem with never that keep me yapping, trapping, twisting, listing, pure. thoughts which rebound on such allure. or in this state, fraught?

drought demur, i can't be lost. what creates the boundaries for our mundane world?

is it always this way, sometimes i can concur but though contradict and control lore. what wit has to do with it aches in the cortex, not too sure

though,

so i make. strides to arrive/ when the tying trolls an and that just has to roll, was it planned? a plateau that makes for tired souls and focus follows so i'll make the next few golden gilded. i lifted an instrument, bored into the mountainous monument to songs that are stricken from the record!,

can i say it moved me at least daccord daccord, in accord with the bylines beats resting easy in silent sheets. white snow on the streets

So what moves feet?- now featured, in a league or two of melted water

Scattered first then drained like a teacher. note well i can't control these spells i cast well i just borrow from the well that can be an addendum, like nintendo with super prefix or powers to uplift.

Now that gravity's gotten in, whats holding us down? i realize its a perfect world when i hear the right sound. din din dimmer, at a simmer with the alter, faltering to proctor this unstarved artist any farther.

I caught her eyeing the words, now this i am told

Is whats not supposed to happen without the help of chords. but we all can think right? I Hope we can all think right

Crash test sillilloquy silly statements made by you or me, verbatim work there way into decency.

Being decendents of harnessing ill remembrance of narsissustic thrills are overkill, like this beat but i'll rap on it still. what way should i drill seargeant. calling bosses by loosely linked synonyms is bringing in the losses. tossed to far to the opposite position rocking pauses because its as fast as ever. never sever ties with losses its costly like faucets probably are and cars and trucks and plains and trains and bars and tucks and spain is specially to spaniards connected to layniards are pick locks we all share the same home with rich parts like stirred marts. correction we now have an occupation occupation malapropped up against the hedgehog detour speed to level out the authenticity. i lost myself in recency reticently reliving read recording rarities ranging relatively rational relevancy to reiterate maybe. really? Reality rarely rivets wrongs with rights but i may have just changed mind tonight.

Trains on planes, walking the planck to tank at the box office.

Crystal dancers prancing on tunics of the lost world topple

Down to the stomach seinfeld sillouhette, still young yet he

Could correspond with the weathered years like a snowstorm yeti

Begetting a ready crowd of setis to link back the living steady

Infultrate his messy system full of fibre optic cables

Breaking fawns to flora doglsled called beverly

A lacy white strap falls from the synapse to anybody willing to grapple

The stamp pro whos able and willing, to pick apart a 5 piece perforated on the table and chilling

In dry ice, wry vice, no ones nicer than the number two typewriter cable connector illing to fare

Up the world with the balsamic vinegarrette salad dressing while nesting are

The stairs and the cupboards, fuck it we'll take cupboards and ride em over fjords

Assured we make the right choice when mine is yours and backwards

Trample over avalanche calibre remonstrances, just mashing the synapses collapses

These rap synthesis financial vibrant title geist dish guising at night in lapses

Of theoretical tangential argumentative vibratto elemental pineapple to be sure spazzes

Tear the traps back, let in the footprint of your phone's app.

No one needed to feed it these things are metal, as soon as its defeated you retract the get go

Which is now in your possesion a lesson in meddaling token medallion for your confection

Arresting the eyes of onlookers, even offlookers, can't stop/// i guess i can

Trains on planes, walking the planck to tank at the box office.

Crystal dancers prancing on tunics of the lost world topple

Down to the stomach seinfeld sillouhette, still young yet he

Could correspond with the weathered years like a snowstorm yeti

Begetting a ready crowd of setis to link back the living steady

Infultrate his messy system full of fibre optic cables

Breaking fawns to flora doglsled called beverly

A lacy white strap falls from the synapse to anybody willing to grapple

The stamp pro whos able and willing, to pick apart a 5 piece perforated on the table and chilling

In dry ice, wry vice, no ones nicer than the number two typewriter cable connector illing to fare

Up the world with the balsamic vinegarrette salad dressing while nesting are

The stairs and the cupboards, fuck it we'll take cupboards and ride em over fjords

Assured we make the right choice when mine is yours and backwards

Trample over avalanche calibre remonstrances, just mashing the synapses collapses

These rap synthesis financial vibrant title geist dish guising at night in lapses

Of theoretical tangential argumentative vibratto elemental pineapple to be sure spazzes

Tear the traps back, let in the footprint of your phone's app.

No one needed to feed it these things are metal, as soon as its defeated you retract the get go

Which is now in your possesion a lesson in meddaling token medallion for your confection

Arresting the eyes of onlookers, even offlookers, can't stop/// i guess i can

Thought beleivers would hold levers holy orders of receivers bell payphone outta order can i leave yours. notes to the quota iota i tote a hindrence of my symptoms i oughtave wrote a prescription for a different octave in a notarized alibi for those who fly in planes when the spherical properties of contingency realize it forms itself like alphabetically papoose did. a truce with the wealth of words say im stupid. now active practice makes time short. and bends around the belt ...so in the long run thats for me to decide thrice triplicate try for more order an ornate celebrate once you finish the song

\

With a wayward way with words, i fleece a million dollar bill on the back of a polo shirt. whatever will whatever won't gathers in the fabric, seats rich drones through a hat trick.

Please matches coalesce with the bones of a rubric, the rural timid ration, of the fusion.

Of tact and tease, passion, test and tone, bastion with a tunic round the bureaucratic mention of the first men that lives with a ransom noting the music. that some dance on, alone with the all, and in with the ruins of the contract ceased lest it hone the sound of lactic acid thats all around it, these adroit figures figure ligaments while the others offer impediment, and usher in new ways to connect us, to spacious blent platforms where we trek truss bridges and get around to stupendous feats

Theres a world outside of here

Whether its close far or near farther there farthest i don't care

Im going and ill change this place

Maybe once im gone ill walk away

/its unnerving the birdwings i use to break the turnpike. my inner workings, morphing like a fashion trend. satellite heights. call it a site. geo geo station synchro retrograde negation in one way street wise meet placates the defeat of common traitors acting as commontaiters by definition only save your selves from conch shells or rebel. hell i'll even throw in wealth! At war with the will to cover still covert stilts tbat i set up to stop the bells ... ...like they say: rock them shelled from the hardplace, shelled by the inbetween. like the rock use to say to man and still can you smell what the rock is cooking. just to make slang for all my children

I don't want to be in settlement, id rather just pick you a better man. how can i hide from this integrational replacable bed again

Cadillac though cataracts. lilac and lie back.

Sleeping in a new car till the sun retracts

My eye lids, im riding out waves of dystopia

Through my macrocosmic catastrophic blent myopia

Wheres the wonder gone, or is it here under the papers. oh the save yourself games we deem as majors, like! Tame yours and unfold your relatively dull straight rapier. fence to fence to fence to fence. to be again under the selfsame sky, i might be dense to wonder what id have to drink. probably die. spend the whole afterlife not having to try to relax relatively, because i got drunk and into a swordfight. how silly

No no no no here the wonder has tatooed curtains on its its belly. with angel wings on its tassles and blows a dog whistle to stretch the limits like i did. tried to relax and faxed a whole pig inside myself. fiddled with the control panel in my computer with the intent to install more software. didn't run smooth weird

Cadillac though cataracts. lilac and lie back.

Sleeping in a new car till the sun retracts

My eye lids, im riding out waves of dystopia

Through my macrocosmic catastrophic blent myopia

They say stress is a syllable impressed with itself at rest. at least i think they do to test, if it is with those that want it that way. cuz they sit

On the fence. but to no fence sitter is there a letter also deemed a number that could follow the letter i could write cest la vie deemable as a number, you could smell the ink. to bad im on a computer now don't you think its sad to have to laugh at the jokes that aren't funny thats why we need more staff writers with less stressed out math

Matchable word wrap rappable stapled papable reiterationaly detainable strung out silly\

To no fence sitter is this pity

Cadillac though cataracts. lilac and lie back.

Sleeping in a new car till the sun retracts

My eye lids, im riding out waves of dystopia

Through my macrocosmic catastrophic blent myopia

It comes from pockets, this lake lorn to profits sa storm forever marketted

In bed reassured locketed with a better stirred rocketship straw like they bend around the universal paltry

Faulty draw bridge cursed to doctor the author to balk at marker tips/ and fellow ships

Hello grips. yalls fools, in order, target stripped. like borders thatll be clipped

So how bout we dip into the sprinkles ya dig got it rigged

Reverse psychology never worked its a fib

Coerced within the drab, sadist symtematic live life logger's mill

I got a lotta milk to spill so cry your eyes out against that windowsill

Wu tang widow few can sit through full blown metal thats why its done in chambers

Little by little

We're really stars, talk about large, we're living legends rhythmic system bobbing within a symbolic farce. tardy for the charge of the trade that displaces chemical bonds a series of pawns that are normal can conceive but can't believe that two that couldn't can't relive what they releave through. kinda coalesces cuz none were made i think there was an issue of the globe and mail that relates, call it late to the place meant for the race, that reinstates you as a muse to my tape deck

Half way down we split we call the biggest bluffs, take the chips, and realize the stuff we're made of isn't rushed /its a slowburn bottom feeding toss to turn it up alright defeating of the dismal, this won't go away i try to rough it out and for years don't know how long its been though /it doesn't matter, ive seen the sad skies, asked the wise whys, flipped the coins twice. ripped the package open and seen you in a bag of rice for now i'll warm the ice of your impress/ id guess youd stress alone had so many bricks admiring the structure of your home. is it just to look at you id king my castle if i had to but i play kinda rude, no time to plan it out, just gotta get into your shoes. run about, collect the collapses, like past tense was fashioned.

I shift sands while i walk, shake hands while i talk, cheap brands when shop its all the same to the doc. stocked shelves in the past, been in locked cells thoughts fast with nothing to do but hold fast. chalked cues by myself not at the same time, but maybe impressed ladies with nothing but an envelope that was never opened i think its barely spoken but it happened and im lately overrated by sundry hate-mes thought a girl was giving birth to a baby sang my song by the same name to make it less shady had an impromtu date with an 18 year old babe sharing sad stories while i was staring into nowhere mostly was the host to a rave scene at least thats what the drugs got me saying held a prayer position too long to get them to notice i might be praying playing the 5 same songs thats still going on patients passed me by while i waited last man in the spaceship till the same cell became vacant, been there a few times racing all alone to facilitate the same which i Hope will remain clandestine till i figure out the name realized the whole banal thing was a shame had a bagel with herb and garlic, untoasted, talked in frog throat, realized i said tart lit, and many things that i didn't spit, spit like rambo, wrote about rambo, metacarpal workouts pretending to play the strings had a stand still smoked so many cigarettes drank a shot of alcohol and i think its still affecting me, saw my mom vanish in her hall and something mightve jumped out from the tree. found out it was hard to believe in a static frivolity played super mario two player without luigi, think i sat through one movie. got close before watching good will hunting till it became love scenes burnt plaid in my jeans, durst fad with the scene, cursed out loud with a serbian in the suburbs who has dreams. wrote words not knowing what the mean, kinda... read a little nietzche figuratively speaking

I take the stair case, put it in my briefcase. my legs were sore, so i soar over there say: were you aware im the rarist terrorist bearing garish overbearing parents who say no more swearing to be the fairest.

There there rest. i take a pairing of stairing to work the wearing. what is this really? Could there be more sharing. up to the minute news nightly for our type of daring. darlings markings on my skin from the offering talking out loud in syncopation

Rest assure the words that i could walk around your were were never worn till this my goodsir take one step down from your throne and pardon the yearning, learning, burning, discerning, confusing barely tolerated person myself one addict churning socratic thought to balance with balm and blame his decided practice all the while the worlds turning the furnace is a convent for my inner workings where terms lurking become birthing females some loved and some hurting some unavailable some turn pale. whatever worms its way to the surface, i cherish and wail, brandish till they stop working so i may stay and avail.

All i ask is some ears to my leers and gazes inside the lab and the mazes to phase with a stasis of my voice and patience for its not fraught with good form yet yet it might shape this whole place into a palace, the talent

Notably fastened to the cork of granite leaking out the backhand. digits rivet sifting on the bandstand. grandslam to

1Patrick Stewart – best known for his role as Captain Jean-Luc Picard on Star Trek: The Next Generation.

i Like patterns, like phantoms, like saturn, like lanterns. (like saturn, like patterns, like lanterns like phantoms.)

posies

Posted  by barrett on November 12, 2013 at 12:05  AM

comments (0)

Shaped with a hand so gentle, yet strong

It's instantly burnt and hardened. Like lentils

The vase pronounciation gentled,and drawn

And a flower for my pardon. Daffodil

in simplicity i wander like a child, too complex for the cows to come home. the scenery blends in with me like a bus-bust going for broke.

the soap i used totes, but I virtually know no one.

now you should know, that if you're reading this, there are certain words that just stick out, like hollograms. take a piece of me...

if there were an essay on it, it'd be titled: Those Who Know Me Know. I can act like I read it. hey, again, but really its just the dice. on a different starbust candy tranquility spin i realize i am only what i make of myself, call this the denoument.

there is no cafe,

there are no more intruder sundial batteries

i wish i could say something was true. days seem quill/

maybe it's maybellene

Posted  by barrett on November 12, 2013 at 12:05  AM

comments (0)

so, someone got change for a $1000 bill

This is the wildest adventure you've ever been on.

Girls, grills, gills

I swam till i couldn't sea the shore, in the sands of our lies.

Running thin, on empty, and I shift my head just to realize.

I wonder how long it will take for my posture to collaborate.

If there were an easier way to say I told you so, I wouldn't.

but i melt around the edges and evaporate in turn.

And yearn for a yeilding, that doesn't even earn.

Sporadic spirally spells of sepsis, if thats well,

correct then i was guessing, and i thought it too as wells.

This is the dawning.

The

Dawning.

In the land known as Patience, representatives have patience. They are practically representing, patiently, presenting their respective land known as patience. There are no doctors, just patients.

In the land known as Doctors, representatives have credentials. They are without practice, patiently waiting for patients.

The doctors built a ship, and docked Patience. For about 3 years, nothing happened, but everyone was patient.

The patients built a ship, and landed on Doctors. Immediately the patience had docked. Credibility of their respective home had failed.

Years later, the son of God led them all back home.

The patients on Patience. And the doctors on Doctors.

Thinking back, I wouldn't have changed a thing. I hear Billy became a stockbroke, I still think about him every time I pass through the city. Ryan passed away in a trainwreck. What a trainwreck.

This is not a dream. The red numbers blink. Celia needs to get to class. I start the motorcycle, she is already out the door. She mounts the leather seat. I look away. We're already on the way. She takes off her helmet after the engine stops, I take it, and she glides into the institution graced finally with her presence.

She sits tapping her pencil on the desk, the professor is trying to see her take note. She just breaks the pencil somehow. The professor points to the door, and tells her to read chapter seven. She walks out the door quietly. The whole faculty just dies a little inside. She is already out the door. I look away. We're already on the way.

This is not a dream. The red numbers blink. Celia needs to get to class. I start the motorcycle, she is already out the door. She mounts the leather seat. I look away. We're already on the way. She takes off her helmet after the engine stops, I take it and she glides into the institution graced finally with her presence.

She sits tapping her pencil on the desk, the professor is trying to see her take note. She just breaks the pencil somehow. The professor points to the door, and tells her to read chapter eight. She walks out the door quietly. The whole faculty just dies a little inside. She is already out the door. I look away. We're already on the way.

This verse abridgement of my first project: Sewn Crates revised April 17th, 2012, 19:00.

Sewn Crates

Epilouge

Some writing can be Sewn, as so. His silly, but mainly: influential, writing, in some places known as negligee parts...Where, some don’t assume positions of retained-anything-at-all, for

they retain creativity constantly, creating a void of tolerance. But by what bias does the distinction between poise and constancy become immeasureable.

In other words, when do we consider which is best?

It takes only a matter of time in a truer sense to see what.

“So what do we make of truth?” The Sewn idiosyncratic collection of thoughts put together to be part of this endeavor notably.

“Well, it has to be time, or sequential apartment inside thereof.”

“A path between points might stumble on some segment of the answer.”

...But she is brash as the brass: arriving thorough jazz of lucidity.

brick a brack

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 10:55  PM

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This morning was different. The sun had already made its way past and over the shrub. It couldn’t have been me. As I walked along the brick and what? Plastic structures I envisioned the place from a top-down angle, it seemed wonderfully cloying, for the time being, seeing it, with reason, was enough to dream.

Sarah woke up off the bed and parted her hair, alone… shook her head and went straight for the kitchen. Out the window she saw the houses and shrub and shrubs. She had just reached for the cabinet when Allen came back from his walk, he’d be having coffee too.

“Sarah, I think it’s time we…” he abruptly paused.

Sarah reached the instant and smiled to him with a turn-out-pout in assuming.

“There are just too many bricks. We’re living in a brick cult or something…” Allen trailed off and sat down, “some for me.”

I knocked on their door where they retold the

While the poet practises philosophy...

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 10:25  PM

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Through a torn implement of a derivative of something subjective, translated where no relationship exists, I pirate an alien tongue to make you slave to the wonders of fun readership.

Nietzsche: The philosopher usually quotes the poet.

"smash my harp onstage"

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 9:50 PM

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newt

a baby newt watching destiny.

fell in love with albany.

all crazy and felt, like a rail in a felt.

the stealth belt melted weltd

Total War Part three, and the startling beginning!

The fighter plains came below the ceiling and the Japanese destroyer stopped in the water, the few anti-aircraft guns slowly and laboriously positioned themselves to predict the flight path of the almost versatile American aircraft. Suddenly the most versatile aircraft made their way from the west, the destroyer shot in front of the intercept path of the American aircraft.

The American aircraft two by two split up, the two west most dipping under the flightpath and towards the destroyer, the other two heading directly towards the Japanese aircraft going as slow as possible.

American transmission:

"Move in from the Indian."

The flak exploded, the planes fired, the propellers roared and the subs searched for each other.

American Transmission:

"Scramble."

There were 4 Japanese planes, they all went down towards the destroyer firing precisely behind the flightpath of the two American Mustangs that were headed for a death sentence. The other two Mustangs fell to intercept the two aforementioned Japanese aircrafts. They were gradually torn apart by the other two Japanese aircrafts.

TBC

Space Lakes Poetry, plus infinity stuff too!

The stars arranged in waves, of replete figureheads seizing lovers’ eyes.

By far the rearranged slaves, were defeated, leading to cover thighs.

At large the paved derringers, were seated after hovering thrice.

So

I’m a poet, I take pages.

And crump on the podium of precedence.

Drunk all the time on love,

Seeing straight through the steel bars.

Posted 1 year ago

meadow

So they walked through the meadow, half sullen, half sunken. The deep end again. He grabbed her by the turned coat and kissed her in midair. She thought deeply right away. He broke the lock that bonded them substituting his astute, and trembling lips accordingly. Of course it was cold, it was always cold here.

The snow fall flaked, For just one day, And it had them distraught, With what came there way.

trail blazer

i was walking in the forest aloof!

with no shoes on my feet, new chew in my tooth!

all of a sudden, I realized something!

The one’s who knew were family too!

So i travelled past the mountains in a flash!

dashed through the tropics in my past!

got around the world in under 80 days

reminded myself it was all a dream, i mean stage.

no one was listening, when the relic hunter came on television.

i guess no one wanted to search for treasure.

or they found it, and had preforsaken it luck it was sunken.

no one remembers the how about a luncheon!

deserted island phonetic witness, to the drastic plastic, hold fast kid.

timex.

rolex

i’ll take a brief habbo to remind you briefly.

Posted 1 year ago

eyeglasses

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 9:40 PM

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stockpiled insufferable malaise mayonnaise outfitter. a title I once hold in good standing, though my new one unabashed regulator suspicion hunter is more to my liking, though I might've liked it If I suddenly went backwards.

a sir lancelot

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 9:40 PM

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the dragon table they called it.

a lamp upon.

no doubt one was talking

when another fell out.

strange enough it was platonic.

like the board.

gypsies, gypsies, unicorns.

two

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:50 PM

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In retrospect I noticed nothing but hands on the clock. The, or what used to be the five, was now a somnolent elevated fracture of a fault line. I mean it could have been a three, no, that would have made it more of what is was and/or trying to be.

As I closed my eyes again I tried quite hard to remember the time, it seemed that it's only requisite feature was that it wasn't really moving.

I take it for granted that it doesn't remember me. Though it had several dislocated minute particles, which reinforced the irregularities, which lead me to believe, that in fact it may have been me, that was indirectly surfacing an extraneous amount of attention towards it's fortunate twice removed indecision, stretching.

A Person eating a croissant in D minor

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:50 PM

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"Delish." Bryant said. "Just, delish. Milkman, brush my gums with 3 ounces."

"Only if you say so."

Spring Paint

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:45 PM

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Snail bold entangle

Servicing built mold mallet

weaving a next hour.

Sail build nautical

Surviving billed miled mollusk

Welding a next hour.

Bale full of caskets

Bringing fledged files wild

Dying, dying durst,

Fraying those flasks'

Tailors on a ship fledged

Dyng, drying reign.

Bleakly abiding

Rain. providing provisions

The darkness cold as,

Faint, drying, nice! Spiced

Emergent flame slain vice

Breaking fees feed fleet

"To society"

Captain called slower cranks.

"We'll" Wheel "we're" well well.

It was an Ideal.

text space

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:40 PM

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Start, I did, once, at lost.

I found a lot.

Out of gaze.

Listening to paradise.

Mastering the flow.

Of where is lost.

Vice.

Is my spice of life?

trite communique

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:35 PM

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Although youth can be fleeting in an impartial clause to retreat, meeting of such distinct distinction can often suffer meet. Alas, in order to become a due, must defend where and when without a reason to offend. By what starry matter do we rise and fall to be patient enough to seek refuge in death? or do we pretend?

Perhaps night shades the intolerable, and the sun soaks the valuable, and the twilight speaks to mollify the all able in creationism on the fly. With such summits of surpass!

The predestined, find ways to allay. The tolerability holds buoyantly, and lastly the changing is dope, so I cut in line at the refreshment table holding a nine with a peace sign. Perfectly constructing a change in demeanor as expressed, presses the certain issue, and the rain must fall as well, plus the moving of the heavens, including but not to mention.

one

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:30 PM

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I was sitting in the middle of an NRA meeting, again. Fran was trying to have a smoke. The biggest gun we got to talk about today was a new Mississippi brand sawed off mod of a single-barrel revolver.

She says, "Pronto, let me have this right now!" To which everyone just wants her to hold the thing.

Some guy at the back opens a tin can and tries to make it louder than it was. Fran doesn't like that, is what I'm thinking. She gently takes the Mississippi loose weight, spins it around, some new guy from, well probably Mississippi walks in and I make myself scarce. Finally, she drops it and I get to hold the thing

«

While the poet practises philosophy...

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 10:25  PM

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Through a torn implement of a derivative of something subjective, translated where no relationship exists, I pirate an alien tongue to make you slave to the wonders of fun readership.

Nietzsche: The philosopher usually quotes the poet.

"smash my harp onstage"

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 9:50 PM

comments (0)

newt

a baby newt watching destiny.

fell in love with albany.

all crazy and felt, like a rail in a felt.

the stealth belt melted weltd

The rain stopped and Dreifus was truly gone, Gezabelle made a snide remark about how Dreifus always fucked shit up. Damian chirped. Prince Scarlet, uncapped the bottle and poured it on the glowing axe. He thought a little faster and gave the beaker to Gezabelle. Gezabelle neglected the axe and Damian appeared. Prince Scarlet cradled the axe into striking position and swung it aiming for Gezabelle’s neck.

TBC

Categorical Imperative,

The categorical imperative is selecting an imperative to execute.To decide what you are.

Going beyond things is the most compromising you can do. It astounds and transforms the boundaries of compromise. Now, I won’t compromise while invading the jurisdiction of formative collaborations, but there is to be noted that, among us, we live with formations of rocks, fences, and meadows. But condolences aside, there is no vague idea for the input that goes unfounded, no one ever finds the solace they’ve truly ignored.

Contrary to belief, it is a good idea to transcend freedom; this is the meaning of freedom. If we are not freeing our transformative opinions, then we are not recognizing solace.

Now, with respect to the geometric simulation of transformation it is really not out of place, just recapitulated slightly within the imagination and imagination’s grid. Whichever way you look at it, you reassign the configuration into accordance with whatever symbolic representation you want to enlighten. It’s not rocket science.

Rocket Science,

Preperation is key to success. Just configure the solace that you misttakenly guided into the Sun. “Sol” if you will.

Now, if there are a few things acting on a rocket, then there will be a net gain of ordinance. Any which way you transform a free thing, you will transcend it’s transcendental freedom.

Starship Enterprise,

I am under attack.

The Stigma of Mental Illness,

Many people are afraid of mental illness, they think that the ones who have a mental illness are somewhat flawed, and they would like to help them. They do not like to help though, therefore they take the fall by falling under the categorical imperative.

Midnight Starship…

The milky way reflects on the surface of the lake,

Slowly walking away at light speed, surfacing tension and calibre.

And even wagon of dialect graces the ripple of a new dimension.

And we all look back to the land.

WE’ve blasted off again,

out of time, and out of space.

There is no way home Christopher…

You are slowly getting more united with

whatever takes you, and rocks you back and forth.

Pray tell, what is your dialect?

is it the ebb and flow of humanity?

are we a weeping ocean of waters?

Do we sail at night wondering the earth?

Is there really a way out of the impure stature of a forebearance?

how do we succintly stoutly, softly ebb out like you.

Rock me back and forth.

Carousel Distinction.

You are not a fucking Horse.

Wet Napkins,

You bloody pinpricart.

doth though feel limp?

Haggle your way through my snaggle tooth

and rinse out your woven texture abundant,

The Navy Blue Cross,

We are the Hindsight of Malpractice,

We are the true Total Menace of Wrought Desire.

We sail above the rafters, and travel gallantly through the fog.

Always sending good men to the Crimson.

Oceanic Letters of Revelery.

Dear Mom,

Ever since I’ve been on this thing, this ship, I’ve been sick. Home sick mostly. I don’t know when I’ll reach home, but I’ve got a feeling I’ll be homesick then as well. I remember your apple pies and the way you treated me like I was a good son, but I think I’ll take Dad’s side on this one and say that I’m just sick.

Dear Dad,

I respect myself now.

Turbulent Fossilization,

Posted 1 year ago

all i need is one mic, and maybe a record contract… rs im looking at you

i battled ballads my beloved rattled with atlantic salmon and travelled above to see the sandman coming, but theres nothing like a muffin from a lady that made you go on and on about nothing like you were punched in the face thrice. enticing victims of the lovely, roughing tridents just to make the blood stop coming. and i rap in fact inside my residence, which takes precedence, but we both watch futurama, where i’m obama, and who santa can’t gift me more than my granma but the llamas that i phathom can’t take lamoz classes because its random. land one, land two, land three and your outlandishly standing at cubical tenement where the roof’s become a sheet landmine plant a flag fragment to mention mine, and yo you can wine and dine any rhyme but the rhythm is decision. so i’ll take you to my ordinary village where i become a villain, take my pills and avoid children, spilling guts like a mut who ate grass and talked to us. you can fuss and dust and rust but rustem. wait buttons! flutter over supper and sputter out crumbs like an usher. im a pencil pusher, but i only push myself to push that pencil aside, and take a stride into the wood, where it could be like santa, but wouldn’t even matter if you were madder, so sad to see you look down, im sorry old lady but i see youre smile as a frown, sometimes i drown in the gown i could create for my sound, like now, but love how? with no other way to do it unless i play cupid with ashtrays, spades, dig me up when you learn to behave. someone save me a square dance till you’re there and sing till you’re rare. bear this tip in mind kevin smith has two eyes in it, and that has two e’s, off me please, are you happy now you beeseech? treason in front of treason, to the sides: reason, now im pleading, mercury is fine, but i know you got a blue tinted visor that reflects signs.

Posted 1 year ago

yo

sigh, citation, invitation, invention, tantrum, tantra, mantra, mammoth, hammers width, famished gift, selfish gift, travel tips, exponent life, life, sift, tif, blip, pill boxes that shot the doctor’s patience. mason’s take on staking the stranded with underhanded band famished land of lost atomized tyrants, based in cincinnati the way a rowdy saddist might mechanize his favourite doll faced doll face. face doll. ollie over and forget about surfing the net for me, because we’re all part of this, it’s you, it’s me. v v v icodan icarine… buy my fucking book if you can’t wait…. anyway, i just put myself down the same way, anyway i would like you to know i will be at the cliffs, if you want you can meet me there. ‘listened to two of the three meter feeder’s . who does w/e think ? anyway, id like you to know. there are astronomers that are backwards but there are satellites too.!

Reblogged 1 year ago from philphys-deactivated20120616 (Originally from 9gag)

2,926 notes

Source: 9gag

some new stuff.

Recumbrant diction is a must-get fiction, frictionless, and imprisoned by etcetera throughout the district. Distinct and cheerful, the precinct quoted an imbecile and put the fashion trend into the motorized vehicle. Already a speeder, flashing demons the cheaters without poise or purpose or pronounced public speekers. Those who know, know. And those who don’t, know.

Okay double down on the pirate envy and wrap an m-16-macheti around your dark navy tribe. no one is offering you any more bromides. so in distinction with reliving the centre of a intrinsic pistol postulate, relegations of negations go famished for the one without a taste for apathy adjoins the furiously comprehending syntax.

If it were up to me, I’d look down upon you all.

Hey is for horses.

Three days later,

Welcome, sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, but I’m busy at dueling with prose…

1.

Darling, no farthing is farther than my grasp. You are a scent, even your weakest, most fragile moment is silence. Let me try to caress your golden locks. Yes, quite. anyway, i thought i’d let you know I’m heading to the cliffs, you can meet me there if… anyway, let me caress your metronome. I’m sure my heart beats faster. anyway, i t hought i’d let you know that im heading to the clif. yo,

2. hey hey its your’s

3. Try to sty the virus that stylus want to be moody assistant. But don’t reveal the secret passenger code! oh no oh no oh no! Have no fear, my whims are heard. Yo, i just want to let you know, I’ll be going to the seal. hey, appeal, up here, altreal.

Vivid was the interplay, surrounded was the dismay, relaxed was the way of life, and intricately woven was the beautiful heir.

Listen, I don’t want to come off naive, but isn’t it you that I see in my reason. ‘Pleasing thank you’s at every turn. It is your turn.

4. Catch me if you can re:

3. I told you, didn’t I?

2.

1. I wanted to tell you, I’ll be.

and now for something completely different:

Formulaic racecar drivers are familiar with the track. Oswald was clever enough to spot Waldo a Subaru for nothing but noting. Twinkling a toting was the voting for Waldo to trophy.

"This Subaru handles curves."

"What doesn’t?"

"good point."

ethics or pride?

and now for something exactly the same

Formulaic racecar drivers are familiar with the track. Oswald was clever enough to spot Waldo a Subaru for nothing but noting. Twinkling a toting was the voting for Waldo to trophy.

"This Subaru handles curves."

"What doesn’t?"

"good point."

ethics or pride?

and now for something, outrageous!

Yo, ollie, lets take the trolley, to the mall, he, the volleyboy, is about to be destroyed… i mean employed, by the way he gathers baskets and weaves in certain tapestries. Baby! Lady! Maybe freckles all over my petals.

Chance of flurries.

Warm your bureaus

I’m about to get aromatic.

Daffodil distant, can’t even fly your feathers.

What teathers you to the Earth, for I fear we’re all letters.

But be that as it may, the stars can reach you, for they have longed arms only to beseech you.

On my quest through poetry, I give a roundhouse my reply. I say, I’ll kick it with you, if your lips aren’t even dry.

But be that as it may, say, have I seen you before, somewhere pleasant, somewhere for?

Realizing the count down is backwards is like finding out the…

Dear Anteater,

Would you stop eating all those ants, they are just ants!

I practice speaking out of character:

Spoiler alert!

I’m no critic, I’m hardly a cynic. I care for cyllindrical things and lampshades.

Where no wolves go, is the place where I’ll go. ‘They say follow the footprint low, and await the runaway.

It was truly beautiful; Earth had collided with a falling angel. No one knew why it was placed this way. Maybe to interupt the fashion dialouge of a caretaker stray. Play with me now:

It was aesthetically pleasing, rocks fell on the rocks. Everyone thought they put it in place. Maybe to interupt the fashion dialouge of a caretaker stray. Keep on!

I will now reveal a secret about winning the lottery!

it’s tough

I think I should try to focus, as not to locus the impurities I adore. J’adore.

A map is a contour

A star is an end

A black hole is something else

Where have we happened to bend!

Lend me your eyes! tie in the rising tide! Confide in a map, and try to peel that False hood out of bed.

Tread lightly on speculations. for the spectacle.

Exclamation points for 145 pages starting now.

Finally a dj that knows what I like

Finally a jd that i can take

Finally a fantasy

Finally a love sorry

Finally a fifth entity

Finally I’ve remotely battled a ship that would cease to seize up manufactured goods at a salsbury price

Finally the cloud’s got angry

Dices don’t go up to seven

its rhetoric

its bliss

its ignorance

its beneficial

its detrimental

its insane

its inhuman

its protege is turning upside down

the humble never yell

Anyway

Anyway

I’d like you to fill in the blanks…

119 to go

Prince Robin Hood,

Would you return to California for make up.

Okay, this guy and i were sailing on a yacht, when we decided to pick up morse signals on a transister radio. no one was expecting it so we were able to hear the dolances, cadences and cliff note offenses. we were submitting our memory to stimuli.

It’s a simple procedure, they shock you.

Hi, this is my essay on

Transcendental Didactic Dialect and it’s Recursive Dichotomy of Sanctuary and Syllabus.

Many don’t think didactication is a word. it’s recursive dichotomy of sanctuary and syllabus.

"worst quote ever" : "actions speak louder than words."

do you see what people get away with?

do you know how to bridge the gap between moby and techno?

do you paint with all the colours of the wind?

you can’t own the earth until!

I envision a large estimate of subculture gone awry for the lack of deposition and dilligence.

I dream of a fruitopia

My reality is relative to others’ reality.

I subject myself to theirs, creating no objection usually, unless it is “pro”jected.

Then I jettison the goods like a really overweight gentleman.

Figuratively speaking I am one.

But this does not deny the fact that I am biassed to bias, and try to try, and harassed to harass, and figure things out.

my inventory is replete, my headphones are stuck on repeat, and im meet for mead with any swine fellow who’d like to look at defeat.

Glory,

The compassion, the betrayal, the sardony, the farthing line, the cast of

Will and Grace

I’m just Debra Messing with you, I actually can pay attention.

…or pave retention, or wave indecently.

Aristotle was a lumberjack

Plato was a triangle

Socrates was intolerable

And peter pan jumped over the candle.

I’m so nomadic, I turn styles like coats on display.

Whether THIS is right or wrong, we’re all asking the same question.

and it goes a little something like this…

What is a quasar?

it’s funny, i never really thought about enigmas until it was jammed down my throat as passivity.

its funny, i never really thought about parrots until they jammed their chin in my treblecliff

its funny, people has stars in it

its not funny, because that is not right!

is THIS a quazar?

anyway, id like to let you know, vulcanize my tires, and i’ll retire.

yo, this is the best way to get someone up

oy, this is not the worst end to forget you down.

I’ve only been writing for about an hour now, he said softly, speaking into his soul. and he was about.:.

The grace of a thousand whiskers.

The tenacity of a tendency.

The revelry of revelation.

And the putrification of petrify

The audacity of England

The stench of a skunk,

The tablet of a doctor,

and the feeling’s run amok

The audacity of a minature model factory

For children to read good,

and be good at other stuff too, good.

Every night he wandered aloof

In the Reciprocity of Relish

The err finds its way

into the end of a sentence

and like sci/fi just day

Strangled past the point of inferiority

by a femininity known as a panther

A type of dance just to shatter,

The glass you saw my through, faster.

A glitch and an alibi,

Sought precedence,

Ali baba was hiding

in a technologic briefcase.

Casing the rhythm for melody…

Chasing the chasm for bridges

Tracing the steps through the symphony

As the slither out of the sides of correct technique

Slop.

One De-sigh-or

Scene:

A movie set. Five stars. Pop-corn, overpriced, celebration.

Weak at the knee, hunger in the tooth, i third vermouth.

so, someone got change for a $1000 bill

This is the wildest adventure you’ve ever been on.

Girls, grills, gills

I swam till i couldn’t sea the shore, in the sands of our lies.

Running thin, on empty, and I shift my head just to realize.

I wonder how long it will take for my posture to collaborate.

If there were an easier way to say I told you so, I wouldn’t.

but i melt around the edges and evaporate in turn.

And yearn for a yeilding, that doesn’t even earn.

Sporadic spirally spells of sepsis, if thats well,

correct then i was guessing, and i thought it too as wells.

This is the dawning.

The

Dawning.

Posted 1 year ago

"spend some dough at table three!" »

a rare artifact known as bookin it.

Posted 1 year ago

one of hundreds of lyricisions.

never, always, sometimes, sure. x3

is it elastic… bands which keep me rapping?

fans in tandem with never that keep me yapping, trapping, twisting, listing, pure. thoughts which rebound on such allure. or in this state, fraught?

drought demur, i can’t be lost. what creates the boundaries for our mundane world?

is it always this way, sometimes i can concur but though contradict and control lore. what wit has to do with it aches in the cortex, not too sure

though,

so i make. strides to arrive/ when the tying trolls an and that just has to roll, was it planned? a plateau that makes for tired souls and focus follows so i’ll make the next few golden gilded. i lifted an instrument, bored into the mountainous monument to songs that are stricken from the record!,

can i say it moved me at least daccord daccord, in accord with the bylines beats resting easy in silent sheets. white snow on the streets

so what moves feet, now featured, in a league or two of melted water

scattered first then drained like a teacher. note well i can’t control these spells i cast well i just borrow from the well that can be an addendum, like nintendo with super prefix or powers to uplift.

now that gravities gotten in, whats holding us down. i realize its a perfect world when i hear the right sound. din din dimmer, at a simmer with the alter, faltering to proctor this unstarved artist any farther.

i caught her eyeing the words, now this i am told

is whats not supposed to happen without the help of chords. but we all can think right? i hope we can all think right

Posted 1 year ago

these pieces were taxed under “wackchainwriting”

when you finally catch what

you been thinking backwards about youll see the pattern how you farfetched the freedom

As I stood on the porch it occurred to me how challenged I was for words. For something only the word robust check phonetically can tolerate had perched its own tolerance on the fencing in front of me and heard. It came to order magnifique with fjords and fissures under its belt and a penchant for pronounced plummage. One that must plummet! from the summits of city buildings only when it was coaxed not to function. Ceilings brittle and young yet. He took his wing and threw a bolt of lightning into the hopes that it wouldn’t use its feet and came at me like a jet.

"Take off your hat"

Sorry Mrs. Hawking

in simplicity i wander like a child, too complex for the cows to come home. the scenery blends in with me like a bus-bust going for broke.

the soap i used totes, but I virtually know no one.

now you should know, that if you’re reading this, there are certain words that just stick out, like hollograms. take a piece of me…

if there were an essay on it, it’d be titled: Those Who Know Me Know. I can act like I read it. hey, again, but really its just the dice. on a different starbust candy tranquility spin i realize i am only what i make of myself, call this the denoument.

there is no cafe,

there are no more intruder sundial batteries

i wish i could say something was true

The planet known as Folksong can be a long ways a way. Tourists range from rare owl watchers, music afficianadoes and - mostly - independent artists who wait for transit, hitchhike or save up their money for low class vessels in search of a gig or two. You see: Folksong’s varying governence funds many artists as a way to import technologies that keep up appearances in the other sectors. With more than two thirds of its 11 billion inhabitants, artists - it is known that in this galaxy, the best music is from Folksong.

Ever since the Stradivarians invaded in 1867, and situated their population of 3 million the people of Folksong’s cheif export has been audio files. Having no computers at the time they recorded the music in many different formats and stored them in temples erected almost immediately after the subordination. Nice, insulated temples. Before 1867 it is hard to find any music data from Folksong, though the Stradavarians prolific style of ballad was almost instantly blown up into a complex diversity of song in the late 1800s. As it is said in prose many times over, the surviving members of Folksong probably became instruments themselves.

Books authored by conspiracists, theorists, intergalactic historians and radio djs with too many samples, comment on the fall of cities, loss of state demarcation

Grafiti on an AS

The planet known as Folksong can be a long ways a way. Tourists range from rare owl watchers to music afficianadoes and mostly turn up as independent artists who wait for transit, hitchhike or save up their money for low class vessels in search of a gig or two. You see: Folksong’s varying governence funds many artists as a way to import technologies that keep up appearances in the other sectors. With more than two thirds - of its 11 billion inhabitants - artists, it is known: that in this galaxy: the best music is from Folksong.

Ever since the Stradivarians invaded in 1867, and situated their population of 3 million the people of Folksong’s cheif export has been audio files. Neither races having any musical interest or ability at the time, it is odd to think that in the few months of situation, instruments and inspiration became widely available and almost immediately were put to commercial use. Having no computers at the time they recorded the music in many different formats and stored them in temples erected almost immediately after the subordination. Nice, insulated temples. As it is said in prose many times over, it is quite possible that the whole historic liberty taken by a scholars, was that Folksong ordered 3 million classical instruments to keep up appearances. With no such race as the Stradavarians having existed. Having afforded such a liaison - one that outweighed the rest - Folksong earned its reputation, quite like those scholars.

the take on it is submersed

two strands.

one jettisoning goods but restocking just as easily

the other an emerging world

a jam band emcee feesibly makes the two first

over and over,

now a piano sounds.

the take on it is submersed

two strands.

one jettisoning goods but restocking just as easily

the other an emerging world

a jam band emcee feesibly makes the two first

over and over,

now a piano sounds.

“Where to start? emits what was locked inside someone but arts are like parts of us collaborated constantly tart specimens of specialization in small muscle tissues.” a loud gaffaw is heard. “Trust me, risk you, before I lose you to my fancy take a dance with the chance you might also be lost. Ransom. Balsamic vingerette on the green petals, that were raised that way. I say, is it not right for a ripe melon to contaminate a hole in your body

its all about arches,

attention deficit

Posted 1 year ago

nf book i’m working on, prospectors?

S

ense and Nonsense\

Sense is something we deal with, nonsense is something we negligently try not to for our own sake. Can you really call someone insane? Rorschach.

Paintings always provide nonsense, because perfection isn’t even real. But do we gap the bridge, making reparations with the likeness?

Now, it’s no surprise cymbals awake the senses.

Symbols are studied and then catalouged in a commulative database. When someone hasn’t heard a melody do sometimes they know how it goes? Cross-referencing from popular culture? What amneties are there to offer to whats ill-reputed as nonsense? Any form of movement is discernable both to witness and to catalouge, and everything is moving.

So

This makes sense if you agree that everything is making sense. If it weren’t you wouldn’t know of it.

Denial

Sometimes I have thought that a part of a human knows mechanisms - in a laymens metaphor circadian rhythms. That maybe we always know what time it is. That we know what the dice roll will yield. Maybe we always know the answer to a multiplication problem. That we really know when someone is lying.

What the brain makes sense of just by commissions is hidden prior to understanding, allowing us to alter reality in able to experience it. This is where rendition becomes interpretation and sense is made. Interpretation should be seen as a process over time.

Numbness

Programmed to be unaware of these answers, leaves us to be fashioned by external forces, which is perhaps the only thing keeping us conscious. Like a surgery that is taking place the time of day unmonitored will confess its wishes to the individual when they have just regained track of time.

It is the reason why we sometimes hear our alarm clock cohering within our fading dreams.

A nonsensical statement’s diction will attract different recognizances. As the malaise of alien sensitivity subsumes your consciousness, different thoughts come to mind. All sensitivity is alien though, everything is interpretation.

Luck

Luck is made by the brain for the brain, strictly associated with expectation. Luck is just another neurotransmitter that takes any given length to reach its destination w. The path taken by its representatives enforce either self righteousness, or self wrongness when one has made a prediction. This venn diagram-dichotomy of right and wrong to the self must be ambiguous since its host is unknown; although its receptor intuits a little and unearths some of the numbness. With the repeated exposure to words and nuances of an authority, the more meaning and value will be added upon it.

Being Aware

After enough self righteous action, the part of the brain implicated to make a certain choice will produce more valuable outcomes. This immediately precedes and parallels repetitious action. The two go hand in hand. The former being committal and the latter being promiscuous. Then again the former’s shadow is always cast on repetitious action, entailing a little commitment all around.

Commitment

Being committed to one source

I’d wish to remain anonymous, but that’s not humanely possible in summation as well.

monster M*A*S*H*

you heard it here folks.

Posted 1 year ago

salvage all ballasts, bastion to the dance, grandeur of connoisseurs, words to spurn sporadic temperament.

Posted 1 year ago

there must be a way to make a generator out of a windmill that also acts with gravity to increase the amount of force collected.

like you know those machines that constantly move, what if one was driven by wind too? wait, everything is a windmill. lyl

Posted 1 year ago

saidness

I’m a poet, I take pages.

And crump on the podium of precedence.

Drunk all the time on love,

Seeing straight through the steel bars.

meadow

eyeglasses

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 9:40 PM

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stockpiled insufferable malaise mayonnaise outfitter. a title I once hold in good standing, though my new one unabashed regulator suspicion hunter is more to my liking, though I might've liked it If I suddenly went backwards.

a sir lancelot

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 9:40 PM

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the dragon table they called it.

a lamp upon.

no doubt one was talking

when another fell out.

strange enough it was platonic.

like the board.

gypsies, gypsies, unicorns.

two

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:50 PM

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In retrospect I noticed nothing but hands on the clock. The, or what used to be the five, was now a somnolent elevated fracture of a fault line. I mean it could have been a three, no, that would have made it more of what is was and/or trying to be.

As I closed my eyes again I tried quite hard to remember the time, it seemed that it's only requisite feature was that it wasn't really moving.

I take it for granted that it doesn't remember me. Though it had several dislocated minute particles, which reinforced the irregularities, which lead me to believe, that in fact it may have been me, that was indirectly surfacing an extraneous amount of attention towards it's fortunate twice removed indecision, stretching.

A Person eating a croissant in D minor

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:50 PM

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"Delish." Bryant said. "Just, delish. Milkman, brush my gums with 3 ounces."

"Only if you say so."

Spring Paint

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:45 PM

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Snail bold entangle

Servicing built mold mallet

weaving a next hour.

Sail build nautical

Surviving billed miled mollusk

Welding a next hour.

Bale full of caskets

Bringing fledged files wild

Dying, dying durst,

Fraying those flasks'

Tailors on a ship fledged

Dyng, drying reign.

Bleakly abiding

Rain. providing provisions

The darkness cold as,

Faint, drying, nice! Spiced

Emergent flame slain vice

Breaking fees feed fleet

"To society"

Captain called slower cranks.

"We'll" Wheel "we're" well well.

It was an Ideal.

text space

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:40 PM

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Start, I did, once, at lost.

I found a lot.

Out of gaze.

Listening to paradise.

Mastering the flow.

Of where is lost.

Vice.

Is my spice of life?

trite communique

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:35 PM

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Although youth can be fleeting in an impartial clause to retreat, meeting of such distinct distinction can often suffer meet. Alas, in order to become a due, must defend where and when without a reason to offend. By what starry matter do we rise and fall to be patient enough to seek refuge in death? or do we pretend?

Perhaps night shades the intolerable, and the sun soaks the valuable, and the twilight speaks to mollify the all able in creationism on the fly. With such summits of surpass!

The predestined, find ways to allay. The tolerability holds buoyantly, and lastly the changing is dope, so I cut in line at the refreshment table holding a nine with a peace sign. Perfectly constructing a change in demeanor as expressed, presses the certain issue, and the rain must fall as well, plus the moving of the heavens, including but not to mention.

one

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 6:30 PM

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I was sitting in the middle of an NRA meeting, again. Fran was trying to have a smoke. The biggest gun we got to talk about today was a new Mississippi brand sawed off mod of a single-barrel revolver.

She says, "Pronto, let me have this right now!" To which everyone just wants her to hold the thing.

Some guy at the back opens a tin can and tries to make it louder than it was. Fran doesn't like that, is what I'm thinking. She gently takes the Mississippi loose weight, spins it around, some new guy from, well probably Mississippi walks in and I make myself scarce. Finally, she drops it and I get to hold the thing

empty beaches track number two - midnighter

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 5:45 PM

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tied to nothing, it seems nothing's ever right sometimes at this nothing's ever right. nothing scrubbed off the side of the chosen sojourn of those that fly a kite - at anytime, just makes it stay still a little longer for the clouds to present a quilt to hide, lay under up themselves, over and in the middle the air contours and defines what wouldn't happen to you before it draws the line... and dare, you leave, but nothing's going nowhere for a good while, another mile or two and your set for the ever-yet most majestic set of shore and wet sand that landed you here, panoramic constant view, you can hear you think.. was this even the plan, as you reneg against the wind and head for the pier. the land grows lost, this mist seems coughed, might lights lining the mighty road where shining seems cropped, the one's: out there... possibly caught up in fanfair or some kind of well-wrought self-same desire or a plan of fire... mine's defined divine cost cast fosters water outta thin air. and that's it. while miniscule antiquities givin guff and energy to tough waves, crash. its all this world coming in and breaking what I got, I fill my gull wings up but it seems I've gotta lot and naughts and nots and knots away the privy, hold delay but I can't wait for this air its time I set it straight, set aside, abide, betray align and convey to the point of clutching that rock outside the bay. alright, I'll rake like Velcro, cast silhouttes like shelltoes pose imperfect like van gogh though awkward walk away for heck knows, trim the glass sensitivity with a hook for a hand, till it scratches the surface of a land walked by land, captured, unabashed synapse-structure some guy named Javier's, longlived momentuous embrace caressed by stasis places post puncture the same as ever was best in show these caltrops of mood fun ring-types holding points together the picture (et cetera therein)

you wouldn't even know

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 4:40 PM

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She tried a stint in movies, but that didn’t last very long because her desire for attention irritated the director and he couldn’t work with her any more. Now she is spending some time at Mr. Boddy’s mansion, hoping to work her way into his money.

“Well I’ll tell you what, it wasn’t Mr. Boddy who did this… or maybe it was!” Lightning crashes, the lights go out.

“Why are we playing games, Miss Peacock!” “Shuttle-cock!”

“Well I’ll tell you what, it has to be one of us, we are the only people in this mansion and if it weren’t for Mr. John Green’s scatter brained naivety, he wouldn’t have taken his own life into his hands and married me, Miss Scarlet.”

“Scarletia, darling, where are my glasses, let me see the real you.” Lightning crashes, and in the instantaneous heat John glances at Miss Scarlet and sees the murderer in the reflection of her eyes. The lights come back on, John continues. “You’ve known all along, haven’t you darling, where are my glasses?”

“Okay let’s wrap this up, it was Mrs. Peacock.”

Journal Entries in Blood Part two

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 4:25 PM

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it seems rainbows and militant atheist Richard dawkins' unweaving process of the former seem to be subjugating old news to old news. This is a book I have read. could there be more than 7 colours? I don't think indigo has been shed, though. Looking at alive snow in a hymn to tourach nightly gall'ant yesterday I saw the moon's ring'ed corona for lack of what to call it... in the spirit of this I even thought to think, which I brought no pen yet this ink into the formation of the idea that the moon is a time lapse of something we're so vertigonally dizzy from plus yet!

Anyway could everything we see through our aqueous humour be rainbow spectacular? integrated only through that concept, whereas the liquid crystal display which transforms color from the primaries to the integral to fruit in synchronized fashion like flowering pixel?

Then it seemed endearing to think of colour.

And my eyes couldn't absorb the notion that colour is something we do without, or in abundance/profession in areas of the land non-populated. And fire and wild equatorial forests south of a couple borders where all there is is water, sun, and I'm not sure.

No I'm not sure.

boot with a problem

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 4:05 PM

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in the wake, of a rollerskate, as a blade, thy blossom's must fate.

Take a walk on ice if both were slated, for a mate cross bearings' date, wherein the road melts into some sort of symbolic roll of dice.

Might I gather from this intention of inertia, that the worst way to close yaw, is to add to to too little cross two and add two in the far.

Demoting far to the solicitude of direction that is, where in textbook sequence it is wrong, the first taught egotism of a boot with a problem.

Twelve

Posted  by barrett on November 11, 2013 at 4:05 PM

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Twelve, noon.

The scene was electric, like lilies being turned on.

John didn't want to give away any of his smokes, anyway.

the unlimited premonitions of a license to feel simply isn't rhythmic

its symbolic though mainly systolic diastolic when you don't really feel, something's still turning the wheel. and what’s yielded is

Books authored by conspiracists, theorists, intergalactic historians and radio djs with too many samples, comment on the fall of cities, loss of state demarcation

With much reluctance I return to the act of writing.

I fear instruction will intrude upon my production.

What is and what isn't. Now just take in the isn't.

Try to drink these words, drink them, drink the words.

There can't be anymore insane doctrines motivating artificiality,

because without sanity there is no motivation for reality.

If you walked towards a house, with a bag, full of candy, and

asked for more candy, what would you get?

Trick or Treat,

The candle ins\\mide the orange hollow cooked the sinews.

The kids dressed as pirates and ghosts, goblins in droves,

Came to ask for candy.

"Trick or treat?"

See that pumpkin, inside burns a fire so bright, it cooks it's home.

The seeds drip from the sides trying to extinguish the flame!

Sleep when the candle burns out, but children, don't play with fire.

For it's only desire, is to burn up it's cage.

Yes we can see through the eyes of Jack, and look through his grin,

but that pumpkin gets cooked by the candle that hates it, cuz no one

Can see what they've doomed.

We cut that thing open and stick fire in it, give it a face and place it

to scare kids away, Why ask me again, I'll trick you real good.

"Get out of here."

Thanksgiving,

I am thankful for the fire that burns inside of me.

I am thankful for the fire that burns inside of me.

I am thankful for the fire that burns inside of me.

Trick or Treat (Director's Cut)

"Trick or treat."

"What do you want, this apple, or this soda?"

"Soda please."

"That will rot your teeth."

"We want people to see the fire inside."

"What will you do when the fire goes out?"

"Sleep."

"I think I see trouble."

"Run, take this soda, drink it, show people the fire inside"

"Oh it's Jack, he's back."

Jack stopped his nightmare, front hooves to the air.

The moon smiled. Jack looked at the moon, which reasoned with Jack.

A year later, the kids showed up toothless, now what would they drink!?

Jack alighted walked over to the house muttering to himself. He pulled off his head and placed it beside the other jack-o-lantern and his body vanished, clothing fell to the ground!

Now these flames, together, this moon reflecting the fire that burns inside of them.

Next Hallowe'en the pumpkins weren't carved, but stayed in the patch, and whoever does cut them, will ride a nightmare through the streets.

Blockade

Posted  by barrett on November 9, 2013 at 10:45 PM

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Out into snow, the variable, the rarity slow... I don't recall... Though this map has ever flourished inside my inner workings let me see can this be European never mind it's too kind I see

Orange crabgrass goner made his way into town

and not a grind not a petal not a suitor did frown.

chalk

Posted  by barrett on November 9, 2013 at 5:05 PM

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broken openly, wroten wrought priority dimension all a bliss terribly, berating token snaps at tobacco flak and focal point pointsetta free. flame a priori done one d

sleep walk track 11 the midnighter

Posted  by barrett on November 9, 2013 at 5:05 PM

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I see it farther off, a dazzling fade cone, it presents itself well. Enough to make myself elf, yet im in and out on the spot, I can take you dazzling fade cone, even if you’re warmer and I’m not,

what does one of these dazzling fade cones have to do with right here? Ask the cone I tell myself, well here’s what it cheered stir and said quite clear

Dazzle dazzle, bright bright, black as a piece of broken filament, without a noticer and I’m out of spite, you dazzle too, I’ll somehow notice us not and maybe we could switch spots if you’ve got time to.

Oh dazzle cone, fading in and out of dazzle and shine I guess, if there were ever any reason for me to drink the hyde tonic, id sleep and that’s all but me, im off to the next dazzling fade cone peace.

Now Im in an uproar of sentiments from the news and whats being grown at the edge of this, while hedges reign at wreckless once about as I was somehow walking that is so so calm as calming water is

Walking thinking that and this about the pantry which I come across with its noisy doors

You’re not a Dazzle bright cone, what makes you so sturdy and angry at the floors

Well im open to mostly anything

You’re not a dazzling fade cone, im outta here

X2 “what have power chairs thrown”

Drifting span tips through grass and moisture like an abyss of lie down mist pasteurized like whisper-vapour switched blades fresh still on some so so parade, though I know im really about a mile away, dazzling fade cone, what sort of hunt is that! the inspiration leads like a trombone scale

You’re not a dazzling light cone, hack

In a city of art illumined by those, and artistry as shows, no light or dazzle enter lest it owner be prone.

I will walk these halls of street encompassed in strap and sheet, so those who fail home can see me shown sleep.

A bone to pick with a kitchen and a key to the memory illuminated I mean by the light and not by the tree.

A fig would figure place about and above the beach, what power chairs have thrown are those of heightened sensitivities, and yes we do have feet,

Branching out to seek, and all relativity all weak and reep.

You’re not a dazzling light cone x5

climate

Posted  by barrett on November 9, 2013 at 5:00 PM

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Beautiful, like sand

Delivered in brand,

trope

Posted  by barrett on November 9, 2013 at 4:55 PM

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To no one's inclination I shall undo the workings of my serious alter ego. That is all. No on second thought I'd like to ungainly reduce my inclination to the workings of my serious ego. That is not all. My serious as I've began to call it, is not really much of a good title for what that ego permits, instead, it is more of a fallacy of intercourse between the undoing and the doing, much like a half-knot. The strands are somehow vivaciously unstringable into certain whiplashes, doing mostly, yet undoing. This comes from the amount thereof. Now the only circumspection I can come across is the unwillingness of all of them to undo, needless to say... vivacious! Where I come into workings of them I began seriously, but don't recall the tearing bipartisan sustenance which gains on the level or point-tropic that has me subdued by reverse engineering, though this could be my view. The only thing stopping me from actually performing this activity, is everything here I mention to you.

valurous yarn

Posted  by barrett on November 9, 2013 at 4:50 PM

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I met her in a coffee shop, our coffee shop. She had heels and a dress, I had a longsleeved shirt and a raincoat. She stepped up to the counter in dots and asked the counter for her address.

I said, “you’re not a telephone operator are you?”

She said, “Pleased to meet you.”

She may have been a little too persuasive but I was beaming on the inside.

She said, “Why don’t you take off your coat.”

I said, “oh I’m on my way.”

I recall that that was my coffee shop once.

Winter's Breath track 5 the midnighter

Posted  by barrett on November 9, 2013 at 4:40 PM

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Winters breath

Come on and follow, bereft, in other now: adept, as while snow light crept, the your basic loco motive step, into step, into step, and got away with what’s left, sweet, I can almost hear my feet before they echo into my ears, sheesh, what a blast, and more than the last, what fell to smash into pieces to succumb to reaching my lead, defeat… featured in an eggshell pattern, comprised of witchcraft and made into a lull with what you have it… I tear apart a three of hearts. I in all in all lay down my cards, no draws, drawn away into step and I say, windy, low, howlin, wailin crawlin down pale and all windy assailing, with which left with “come on and follow”, so as now intrepid movements I eschew. Four hearts find eachother and I’m exact sense like move. More than one could guess, to look now seems out of breath, but I know I can catch up like the lining of a vest, addressed.

Empirical Rationalism

Posted  by barrett on November 5, 2013 at 6:25 PM

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Rocket Science

In a dwelling with only windows a man lives violent as a clock. The fear of alignment eventually departs... at first easy then quite ease. His only wish a metronome.

The Coffee Spiller

Posted  by barrett on November 5, 2013 at 6:10 PM

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"Look at him over there, unaware and aloof." Sherry said.

"I know, he's probably going to buy something cheap." Larry said, coughing up the money for a newpaper. "his name isWaldo probably."

Waldo walked toward the back of the store with a jingle.

"Like someone out of a book."

"Or short story."

He came back with a hold of coffee, looked at Sherry and Larry while spilling some and moved to the counter.

Larry put the newspaper on the counter. "You're spilling coffee."

"It isn't news to me." said Waldo.

its like finding a book, in a book

Posted  by barrett on October 28, 2013 at 7:50 PM

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She said "Besides these seeds," paused, then we, said "A walk deepens Earth" together "we may have a knack for out curse," I said "out of context" then we said be of course. she asked me "Trying to calculate a normal?" I said \I thought \I was trying to create a normal.

It was dark, black beads of sweat electrically parallel to our eyes she said, "Let me see" birds sounded "Sing me to sleep at night" she said "Don't play." I said chess isn't it the matter at hand. Can't quite recall.

Make me alive.

"that's the spirit, back to exhile." she wondered,

I said "Walking up and down searching for a fire.

Where the moon smiled in descent to mars for it, signifying an ellipse, so truncated and perfectly in disarray, that it could say it got the point. Burning wax and wane like a flame. Burning a stain in my cavity concave convex just to follow suit. Addressing the natural idea of why wind howls at it from it's basement.

"Sneaking glances at?" in desperation for another moment with it, follow me like I was following the hue, as maybe a monolith cries out & reaches distinction. "Sneaking a glass shelf so rotund it abdicated an aberration so a cantaloupe can become some sort of syringe or surrogate, parasitically invigorating a lunar eclipse it would make a blue moon think, at about exactly midnight for ever evading some sort of elevation until it hits me for just looking up, in every waking hour like a strategy somewhat covalent and conveniently constitutional comingling and collecting my skin just to save hours, whence relocating became pigment just to organize some sort of specious reason to feel low, at home at the stroke of winter and spring, while miles away I and who I am not walk west for east to beg a clause to pull me out like a flag which may or may not sit there, knotted by some sort of movemeant, basically the logistics between geostationary and geosynchronous orbits.

"Eclipse to me, I watched the Sun die out."

"That's what the moon said to me!" "as I gazed into eternity. "sheesh, darkness is darkness, and black is black,: Read deeper shallow pirate. x2

"I don't know where the title went."

"so lost ipso factum"

"Watch out fracture..."

"Gallon of?"

"Tongue depressor."

"for both of us?"

"no."

"Is that a satellite?"

"No."

"Is that?"

"A satellite?"

"Heavy?"

"Really."

The moon was 2:45

"You know the sun rises soon."

"Why I never would have known."

"Did you hear the piano, I hear he was talking about you."

"I'll be there."

what is the universe? volume 1

Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 8:25 PM

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The inefficiency of text has never been so reliant. Presuppose a notion roots into this labor above some paper. How often does it come out the same. It goes to say that the production of transmission of these aforementioned proximities hold one in the same, though motioned by an alternator.

As feelings may be more cumbersome, it might be wise to think of the transfer as something that happens in an overlap, as it is to see in cascades in some new starts and fresh excerpts while still in production or closer to a final product. A midway can allow transgression, but something on delivery can be underwhelming. It goes without saying that a lot gets caught up and insofar as it is dealt with.

Does this happen to thoughts?

is composition plural

Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 7:20 PM

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Which has begun to occur queried an odd fellow with a woodwind? To the matter, undescribed in a cellist at heart whence it came to ordinary, ordinance within a medley of composure, though mostly composition and furthermore, as such, notwithstanding, as aforementioned, as a hunch as follows: composition. Harps do not understand math.

As an instrument, strung, last, so , that that can divine arrows as tolerant as craft, some men, in sum, all, all beome strung, while interpreters become undone. Notably in the various iconography of passage, no suitable equivalent becomes prevalent among tranced and/or trampled upon magical movements like one.

Platonic Individend

Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 7:15 PM

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Fracture in descent of a fraction chisel

Destined to foray, where? missing Earth

Gamut recon, a third, a forth, a fifth.

I am not about to go there yet.

Risking a life, livid as lace.

Lost in a realm of sought earn pace

Tore through a flush of never stain

Proud from the way I made this taste.

And I can see them now, they're space.

Cycling fond of the place, I state.

Never reminded of a time they were.

But that's not today. Tomorrow don't.

Feel the same, I know you can stay.

Because when this hammer sates

I just don't feel this whey.

It's not impossible, I know you just.

Don't feel the same

Caligraphy

Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 7:10 PM

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Curser caused interrupt ;inside a moment of the action.

Slow drops out to about right with route written calligraphy Realizing in triplacte: page pending profession, nothing but period in use.

Eerie dots, choked virus thunder. Blissful realm of yet to be manifestation of dreams and file : 'Screen from this stop sign. Leeking letter virus, blazing probabilities seeking down like life from left to ceftre

ALL I grap fin

ALL I grap fin.

the lack

Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 7:00 PM

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The lack of a committed surface. as oppose, to facet.

Is it an image, or a force to dispose of what adheres.

Is an intimidation stretched, through a retching, culminating,

in what is nears, coheres as

impositions of all dispensed

delve in sinc, and out until, every nettle, every weed, every word & everywhere is in an doubt?

one one

Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 7:00 PM

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Heredity is an important fate,

For whose crux holds thy gate.

In evening, prim and late,

Hollowed out for a fiend to grow,

Lest this hair bestow: an evening rose,

Enchant doth fall on her fairy sole.

And don't, doth trot betroth and Glow,

To bloom at once, fall oh.

Invent ive end

Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 6:55 PM

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Preperatory: Tell me dissonance fury.

Fresupposition within one's glory.

Pour these Herculean Terrestrians.

Practically painting a blind man's story

Contour Reciprocal for four foreign force More Smore's Flora Fjords cure sure pores, as roars to lightning.

Invent ive end

Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 6:55 PM

comments (0)

Preperatory: Tell me dissonance fury.

Fresupposition within one's glory.

Pour these Herculean Terrestrians.

Practically painting a blind man's story

Contour Reciprocal for four foreign force More Smore's Flora Fjords cure sure pores, as roars to lightning.

a few trees

Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 6:50 PM

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Cold and clear (something crisp) like an ambulance's ransom.

Ran some Together in the gathered in the mist we. In the forest, yet.

We intangibly had widows in fronna out of in void for now, in hours. four windows saw some:

Spiders wearing "horse shoes", a' circus of The Path Untrodden to

Down before I get up I never had a chance.

The contours of an allegory in mend, in story. Strong and resembling history close, but no solid curtain, just the one all around that lifts backwards and fits... everywhere, close.

something sacred

Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 6:40 PM

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knife down on a table... a pack of hunters,

iron cage right beside it... enough of a treasure

forget the trade... "I'll see us later"

a reason to rifle door close, a mountain without a trickle of spiteful

the first one to let us off the chain... howl

Names like Barbara under camero thighs

Dames patch farvora manning levers quiet

Fame stuck tamare cans be viral eyes.

yellow orange blue blank close cap cap chirp bless your

forever hasn't mentioned anyone yet let's get this shielding shed on ryes

If I haven't forgotten I came to get through.

No feeling as certain as a way to just get through.

diagonal type on paper, blue

Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 6:30 PM

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Lost

also, "well adapted", well intact.: this fact is, "fact is" fake if like an elastic not stretched but fact is not coiled to make another, and an umbrella could open so sibly & \yes I said sibly silly listen its really a ruler I used, to will me, as these words rehearse and find me a way to rather around on an in and out of a town-o-town clown frown unsound fest test touch down wearing eve gown sense - slide where with those as these least three sheets, I say say I say say I exactly say draped only by rhythmic page of this even ever scape, draped feebly shaped antiicollapse protracted umbrella named brella so sibly Umbrella now it's with a wallet sleep watch watch which one watched the lost 8 or 7 get treated like a loss to me, check my shoes 'till they're loose, go through nurse-imbued go-throughs ' till I hit port and remember my order Mordor Door Dorothy Alice sharps like from the grip of a gryphon holding his baby entar all penguins and that ain't to either of those magical places.

lost in treasure

lost in line

in line I here that spine

dwindling in measurements

like the loss when I found mine

livery in art.

diagonal type on paper, blue

Posted  by barrett on October 22, 2013 at 6:30 PM

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Lost

also, "well adapted", well intact.: this fact is, "fact is" fake if like an elastic not stretched but fact is not coiled to make another, and an umbrella could open so sibly & \yes I said sibly silly listen its really a ruler I used, to will me, as these words rehearse and find me a way to rather around on an in and out of a town-o-town clown frown unsound fest test touch down wearing eve gown sense - slide where with those as these least three sheets, I say say I say say I exactly say draped only by rhythmic page of this even ever scape, draped feebly shaped antiicollapse protracted umbrella named brella so sibly Umbrella now it's with a wallet sleep watch watch which one watched the lost 8 or 7 get treated like a loss to me, check my shoes 'till they're loose, go through nurse-imbued go-throughs ' till I hit port and remember my order Mordor Door Dorothy Alice sharps like from the grip of a gryphon holding his baby entar all penguins and that ain't to either of those magical places.

lost in treasure

lost in line

in line I here that spine

dwindling in measurements

like the loss when I found mine

livery in art.

scratches

Posted  by barrett on August 15, 2013 at 6:00 PM

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broken up like thick chalk along the bottom of the wall was some "hey spray - chalk repellant", this might add a fix-note to that awoken.

token of a day by day fainted spake, worsten hearsed reversed thick cloud of milk on the bottom of a cup pay stub.

arriving privy, pretty class, pretty crass, decided id crash beside a lash, full form contort and out of order since I heard the report, mam may I say I can I reorder, the issue, "miss you" got it handed and half went out like bandit

caress capress, liquidity, foundation and such, plus touch, rupt' fuss, no no cuss

the importance of time

Posted  by barrett on August 15, 2013 at 5:45 PM

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Rampant, spreading through a forest... a fire!

Leeches crying, plains,on fire nearby!

A helicopter breezes through a thick full of smog, and cuts up a cedar,

a dead leaf curls into autumn.

five star commodities

Posted  by barrett on August 15, 2013 at 5:25 PM

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Gripped figure: you sit there

Ripped briefer: now list where

This train was running.

etc.

one:

Almost evident, in a fragile

Moment,

Never lasting past a

Hard greeting

In sequence with, and

even without spoken

Not much more than

Something fleeting.

two:

Waiting, a piece of life

wait,

a theme inside

a broken lead

depth as often red

a sheath of coursing

waiting fled.

three:

a natural drawing, seriously,

with a novice at drawing,

drawn to beam down

round at that 'in,

drowned influence,

through 'in' ruins, doing

nothing but, thick and - sound

at that but found in

flat, now based in fact

where non-forever now

lives as tact. attracted to

(tract to try) a tract attack and.... plough

  ...Spin with tick down talking cloud.

four:

To name a poor flower

Endowed with stains

That leek in pain

And don't shoot off or over

Or sink in a convenient fashion

or gain!

A flower with stains, and flowing

How these wisps sustain,

Wilt or forever hold the flower.

(Arise and wake.)

But still it is offered, and off-red is how it is met.

five:

The day may grey on Earth

But the Sun will burn out before that very day

It let's down that grey,

I feela cylinder scrape on page one,

And the rest can only simply say..

[feitanswife]

Day three- brotp

Wise guy

Summary: dual-story! Checking another piece off the long Shotgun Verse to-do list and fulfilling a Nanbaka Week prompt!  This one was either relationship or brotp and I went with the cutest bros to ever bro, Seitorou and Nico! Also this is a story about Nico getting his wisdom teeth removed, and discovering that needles aren’t the only medical thing he’s afraid of. And I’m also projecting real hard because basically this is what happened to me. I’m petrified of medication don’t blame me it’s basically drilled into us in this state like some kind of anti-everything cult.

-

              Nico was crying, gauze stuffed in his creeks, looking hypothetically cute, but more pity inducing than anything else.

              “H-Hajime” the muffled voice calls out, “don’t weave me hewre awone! I’m gonna die!”

              Hajime pushes him gently off, “you won’t die Nico, it’s just a half dose of pain medication, you literally could not be more careful if you tried.”

              “But… But… it’s inside me!”

              “and? You take worse shit daily!”

              Nico slunk to the floor, sobbing. No one could make out the words he was trying to say anymore.

              Rock pulled Hajime to the side, “listen man, I can explain. It’s an American thing. Especially in the city where we grew up, that word printed on that bottle? That… we don’t even say it. It’s like that old saying, ‘speak of the devil and he shall appear’. That shit’s a death sentence in pill form. There is no coming back from that. If it doesn’t kill you directly it’ll starve you by siphoning your money until you lose everything.”

              “maybe in a higher dosage, it’s 75% Tylenol what they gave him. And he only took a one when the thing said two pills.”

              Rock shook his head, and clenched his jaw before sighing, “It’s still scary, even for someone like Nico, not to mention the anesthesia hasn’t completely worn off, he’s going to get emotional. Just… please don’t force him to take them. If the pin gets bad enough he will, but for now just let him take the standard Tylenol.”

               Hajime threw his hands up, “fine, whatever, but I’m going home. I have a pregnant fiancée to take care of!”

              Nico had stopped crying, “I-I’m sowry Rovk, if I didn’t have this stupid allergy to Ibu…ibe… that thing, we wouldn’t have had to get the alternative ones.”

              Rock helped Nico back into the recliner, “Nico, it’s fine, you’re fine. You head what hajime said, that only made up ¼ of the pill, and you only took a ½ dose. And from here on out you don’t have to take any more unless you want to. I’ll leave them here, in case you need them. Seitorou will be here in a minute, and he’ll keep you safe!”

              Nico had sat watching food network for a while until Seitorou wandered in with a shopping bag.

              “Ah, there you are! Hajime said I was going to be watching you tonight. Are you doing better?”

              Nico shrugs, but pointed to the pile of used up gauze on the table next to him.

              “Yeah, you always have been a bleeder. I bought some extra gauze just in case. Do you think you’re up to eat something?”

              Nico removed some gauze to talk somewhat normally, “tongue’s still numb but I am hungry.”

              They managed to get some jello into Nico’s stomach, but he didn’t look satisfied.

              “tummy feels bad.”

              Seitorou furrows his brow, “your stomach? Did you take an medicine?”

              “half dose of that- had a panic attack after.”

              Seitorou picked up the bottle Nico had pointed to and read over it, grimacing, “oh wow, I guess with your allergies they didn’t have much of a choice. But this probably could upset your stomach, even at a half dose. But you’re half way through the time so at a half dose it should wear soon. Are you planning on taking more of these? Or do you want to try with just the normal ones for a while?”

              “Normal.” Nico murmurd, “Hajime got mad though.”

              “Well he’s not too well versed in American drug culture, so he probably thought you were being overly dramatic. But Rock explained it to me before I came it. Anyway, enough about pills and culture, why don’t we watch some anime? I never did get around to watching that one that came out last November that everyone loved to much.”

              Nico’s face lit up even though he couldn’t smile. Seitorou didn’t know what he was missing!

-

              Several hours later, they sat crying happy tears in the dark lounge, Nico’s head resting against Seitorou’s shoulder. The dramatic near-death of the main character’s beloved pet and eventual tearful reunion between the love interests was just too much to bear. It was Nico’s third watch, but it still got him every time. Or maybe it was the sleep deprivation and lack of proper sustenance. Hard to eat anything when you can only open your mouth an inch or so.

              He had wanted to sleep but he kept thinking the gauze would fall out of place and he’d choke on it. It was a rational fear! But he couldn’t take it out to sleep because A. he’s still bleeding after like ten hours, B. having it out hurt for some reason, and C. although he hadn’t fully read the instructions, it sounded like something he wasn’t supposed to do.

              And apparently if you somehow screw this up, it’ll ruin your life forever, according to the internet.

              So instead they decided to Re-watch One Punch Man for like the fifth time and hopefully be lulled to sleep by the sounds of breaking bones and explosions.

              It worked. Somehow.

-

              Day two was fine, not much happened.

              But day three, oh god day three.

              Day three is the worst, lemme tell you.

              Nico sat, the bottle of pills in his hand, jaw throbbing like Saitama himself had just socked him right in the face. It was excruciating, and it had begun to swell and bruise a dark, ugly yellow.

              Go to a mirror and puff out your creeks as hard as you can. Now imagine that it looked like you just lost a fistfight with god. Combine those images. And you have Nico’s current predicament.

              At least it had stopped bleeding? But it still felt better to have the gauze supporting his jaw.

              Seitorou had stepped out to go to the bathroom, and Nico knew this was his only chance. He had just downed a bowl of terrible chicken soup and a jello cup, meaning he was more than set for the nausea to come.

              But… maybe he’d do a one-fourth dose, just in case.

              He had to swallow his pride before the pill, but he managed it before Seitorou returned.

              And the regret was immediate. His knees went immediately week, the room spinning more than it already had been in his weakened state. He dropped to the floor next to the mirror he used to help take the pills while he couldn’t open his mouth like he normally would. He’d cry, but with how much it hurt to do anything, it likely wasn’t a solid idea.

              Seitorou had returned then.

              “Nico! Nico what happened?” his voice was high, trembling.

              “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I couldn’t take it!” Nico cried, handing over the bottle and pill cutter, “it hurts too much.”

              Seitorou kneeled next to Nico’s trembling form, hushing him gently, “you’re okay, you survived the first one right? And this one’s even less.”

              “but I can’t Sei! I can’t!”

              Seitorou took his hand, “Yes you can. The doctor wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, you know that. Come on, lets go back to the couch and watch something, to take your mind off it. How about we check out a show Hitoshi recommended to me? It’s a magical girl show themed around princesses and apparently it’s really good.”

              There was around 50 episodes of it, so they’d easily be busy watching for the rest of the recovery time at least. And it really was a good series. It was unique, nothing like the rest of it’s franchise, but it brought a fresh spin to the concept and the execution was just great. It was the sort of show that reminded the viewer why they jumped down the anime rabbit hole in the first place.

              And, as Seitorou had so expertly predicted, Nico was quickly and surely distracted.

-

              It had taken five days for Nico to be up and about at all, even though the surgeon had estimated he’d be back in his cell in four, tops. But Seitorou had been glad to spend the extra time with him, as there really was no need to watch the halls these days. Everyone, even the prisoners, were too focused on the wedding to cause mischief.

              An when Seitorou was finally tore away from his coddling/anime binge session, something just didn’t feel right about returning to his post.

              “don’t tell me you’re getting attached to the kid now.” Hajime grumbled.

              “w-well he’s really not that bad Hajime!”

              “still, you’re a prison guard! And regardless of how ridiculous his circumstance is, he cant just be your friend like that!”

              Seitorou frowned, “and what makes you say that? Your future wife doesn’t seem to have much of an issue with it.”

              They both turned to Momoko, who was reading through some mail, “what? Don’t drag me into your fight. It’s hardly my business what Seitorou does with his free time as long as he doesn’t cause any trouble.”

              Seitorou grinned smugly, “you know, he even gave me a nickname~”

              Hajime’s head hit the table so hard it cracked.

(A/N: hey, if you’re curious about the rest of this crazy AU then check out the Nanbaka tag on ao3, you’ll find my incomplete mess of fics there! i swear i’m going to be publishing new chapters of both Who I Am and Shotgun itself the minute this week of prompts ends! and when I finish Who I Am, i’m going to start on the Honey and Trois mini arc... or maybe the Rock and Liang mini arc? idk i’ll see where my muse takes me.) 

#nanbaka week #nanbakaweek #my writing #nanbaka nico #idk i'm out of tag ideas #sorry this is kind of late i ran out of ideas

[a-panda-reads-act-omega]

ACT OMEGA PART 8

THE 24/10/16 UPDATE

Woow, another liveblog from your favorite act omega liveblogger. Are there any other livebloggers out there i need to know.  So yeah, here we are with part 8! Big Vriska number for the win. Also only two updates away from double digits! Yeah, I’m not sure I thought this through with the whole update-update format, this might take a L OT of posts to get caught up. Luckily, I have no problem with making a fuckton of posts. Anyways, I think we left off with the kids, so lets hurry up and get back to them!

(Cant post the image. Here’s the link. http://mspfanventures.com/?s=16414&p=47)

GASP, IS thIS SOME MULTIPLE CHOICE SHIT? Well considering I’m forever going to be staying chronological, I suppose I should start with the one on the next page! 

A CHARACTER SELECTION MENU appears through the power of NON-LINEAR STORYTELLING. You know the drill by now, have some free will! Or just go in this order, if you think agency is overrated

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE

Oh, that’s helpful. Great, I’ll start with ONE then.

The fact that you are a dedicated and loyal reader is obvious and indisputable, so of course you won’t be moving on ahead without having taken a gander at all of the options presented to you.

Obviously! what kinda brainless CHUMP would move on without you explicitly stating to? NOT ME.

Anyways, starting with ONE.

PFt, woah their eyes. 

KANAYA: (Hey) ROXY: oh heeeeey! KANAYA: (Hey To You Again Except Slightly More Quietly) ROXY: (oh sorry)

It seems they gotta be quiet for reasons. H  m m M..

ROXY: (why r we whispering) KANAYA: (I Am Not Entirely Sure)

So they just need to be miss zuipPer lips for no reason then?

KANAYA: (That Just Seems To Be What Everyone Has Lapsed Into Doing) KANAYA: (And Now Speaking In A Normal Volume Will Draw More Attention Than Desired Especially When Attempting To Have A Private Conversation) ROXY: (im lovin this private convo already but you might need to make it snappy)

so everybodys just whispering? do they all got SECRETS? Also, what’s the hurry Roxy?

ROXY: (john looks about ready to get down n dirty with some srs leadership biz)

Oh yeah.

KANAYA: (Alright Then I Will Attempt To Be Brief) KANAYA: (I Wanted To Thank You Again) KANAYA: (For The Matriorb Certainly)

Alright cool! It seems that this Kanaya does remember Roxy giving her the good ol’ matriorb. 

KANAYA: (But Additionally For Everything Else You Have Accomplished Today) KANAYA: (I Know Being The One To Strike The Final Blow Against Our Shared Enemy In The Midst Of Battle Does Not Necessarily Warrant Gratitude But I Thought It Might Be Nice For You To Hear That What You Did Was Appreciated)

What she DID, was prove herself to be a goddamn BADASS. But honestly everybody here’s a badass one way or another. 

KANAYA: (At Least By Me) KANAYA: (On Behalf Of My Species As Well As All Those Who Suffered At The Behest Of The Condesce) KANAYA: (And All Those That May Now Be Born And Live Free Of Tyranny) KANAYA: (You Did Good)

Pft, nice. “Ya did good, kid.” 

ROXY: (omg i am cri)

goddammit these lines always manage to be fucking perfect.

ROXY: (that wasnt brief @ all but twas so so bootiful) ROXY: (gdi cmere moms big loveable space gf)

OK this doesn’t need to be stated, but I fucking love roxy.

KANAYA: (Um I Would Prefer It If We Saved The Hug For Later Maybe) ROXY: (aww ok thats cool)

nO FUCKING HUG NOW

KANAYA: (Anyway I Have Only Just Met You But You Have Already Proven Yourself To Be Just As Extraordinary An Individual As Your...) KANAYA: (Uh) KANAYA: (Rose)

Nice Kanaya.

ROXY: (as my rose?) KANAYA: (Yes Your Rose) ROXY: (;D)

ITS CONFIRMED, Rose is Roxy’s Rose. this conversation is so cute.

See you’re still over there TZ. Whatcha lookin at? The uh... oh youre blind. what are you doing terezi?? come on girl, celebrate!

ROXY: (okay looks like john got distracted by somethin) ROXY: (so since we got a little more time to chat it up) ROXY: (and so long as were exchangin bomb as FUCK felicitations) ROXY: (youre not so shabby yourself yknow) ROXY: (like damn i was absolutely right youre one deadly customer)

Yeah no fuckin kidding, this girl knows how to kick ass.

ROXY: (seeing u whip out that BEASTLY CHAINSAW) ROXY: (was a sight to behold)

PFt, that was nothing. You should have seen when she single handedly put three of the most dangerous characters on the meteor out of commision. 

KANAYA: (I Really Did Not Do All That Much Surprisingly) KANAYA: (Or Perhaps Unsurprisingly) KANAYA: (I Am Not Sure If I Was Erring On The Side Of Caution After All) KANAYA: (Out Of Consideration For The Gift You Gave Me) KANAYA: (Or If Perhaps I Was Simply Unpracticed)

Well yeah, she didnt do as much in this battle as the others.  But like she said, she had the matriorb to keep safe. PLUS, she wasnt godtier. So yeah Kanaya, you’re excused from doing your makeup during the final epic battle.

ROXY: (who cares??) ROXY: (we WON) ROXY: (gave that witch what was COMING TO HER) ROXY: (and thats the end of that no point gettin our knickers all in a twist over it no more)

Roxy’s got the right idea. There doesn’t gotta be any more “proving yourself.” You did the battle, and you came out on top!  JUst be done with it.

KANAYA: (Yes I Suppose Youre Right) KANAYA: (Though I Do Wonder How Things Might Have Gone If I Had Attempted To Dust Off One Of The Old Fraymotifs)

Oh shit, Kanaya’s got fraymotifs? And also, you can use fraymotifs without being godtier?

oh. wait. terezi isnt godtier is she? Yeah, you totally can use fraymotifs without godtier.

ROXY: (no kidding!) ROXY: (yeah that woulda been pretty badass) ROXY: (we could have had a sick combo) ROXY: (void and...) ROXY: (uh) KANAYA: (Space) ROXY: (right yeah space)

Well too bad you’ll never have the opportunity to USE that sick deadly combo!

I am ONE HUNDRED percent sure that will be the case

i am SO SURE

nobody has to die anymore

so

completely sure.

KANAYA: (It May Have Indeed Been Sick But Upon Further Reflection Perhaps Not)

No kanaya, it would be SUPER fuckin badass dont even give me that shit.

ROXY: (wait rly) ROXY: (how come?) KANAYA: (I Dont Feel Like I Ever Got The Opportunity To Truly Get In Touch With My Aspect Like You) KANAYA: (It Has Never Seemed Pertinent That I Be Able To Cast Some Sort Of Spacey Enchantment) KANAYA: (In Fact I Have Yet To Stumble Across A Scenario I Could Not Handle Through More Traditional Methods) ROXY: (u mean a deadly body slam full a sharp metal teeth twice the length of your head) KANAYA: (Yes Precisely) KANAYA: (That Tends To Cover The Bases Pretty Well)

WELL, Chainsaws do seem to cover many different issues. Mainly the ones which involve somebody needing to be cut the fuck in half. But I dont know if being “In touch” with your aspect was ever really a thing. I mean, when did John become “in touch” with his aspect? He just sorta got the powers and did shit with them. i dont really know what that has to do with it- wait a goddamn second. People always associate the wind aspect with like independence and shit, right? And.. the last thing that happened before John went godtier, was a choice. Given to him by Vriska, who for the first time decided to step back and let him decide what to do on his own. Whether or not she would have owned up to what she said about letting him decide how to fall asleep, he still made the choice and went with it on is own. So maybe that’s got something to do with it.

Or maybe I’m just an idiot.

ROXY: (well you know what thats cool) ROXY: (u do u) ROXY: (besides) ROXY: (hopefully there wont be any more reason for you to wreck shit)

GOddammit stop saying shit like that

KANAYA: (That Would Be Ideal I Suppose) KANAYA: (However It Is Always Wise To Be Prepared) KANAYA: (Just In Case) ROXY: (ofc!) ROXY: (and hey) ROXY: (just cuz we won the game doesnt mean there wont be any more opportunities to like) ROXY: (explore yourself and your aspect) ROXY: (our cool powers are too friggin handy for them to just stop bein relevant once we walk thru a magic door)

SPeaking of which, can THEY HURRY UP AND WALK THROUGH THE MAGIC FUCKING DOOR YET IM GETTING ANXIOUS.

ROXY: (maybe someday youll get the chance to blitz ur chakras and get spacey w it) ROXY: (and itll be at your own pace instead of having to rush it for the sake of fixing some giant spacetastrophe) KANAYA: (That Does Sound Nice)

YES IT DOES NOW HURRY UP THROUGH THE DOOR SO THAT BECOMES A REALITY COME THE FUCK ON JOHN

KANAYA: (Considering Right Now I Am Very Unsure Of How To Even Begin Blitzing Those Particular Chakras) ROXY: (i bet u can ask john) ROXY: (hes rly good at givin advice for stuff like that)

YES HE IS BUT HE ISNT GOOD AT OPENING DOORS AAAAA

ROXY: (tho he probably doesnt even know it pffff) KANAYA: (You Are Also Very Good At Giving Advice) KANAYA: (That Was Not Necessarily A Request I Simply Thought I Should Point That Out) ROXY: (TOO BAD youre gettin some anyway ;P) ROXY: (rly tho ive hardly even begun to wrestle my voidy powers into submission) ROXY: (still got a loooooong way to go on that front) ROXY: (but thus far most of my blitzing has just been like) ROXY: (being around the thing) ROXY: (and letting myself embrace this like) ROXY: (natural synergy i got going w it) KANAYA: (When You Say) KANAYA: (The Thing) KANAYA: (Do You Mean Nothing) KANAYA: (Considering Your Aspect Presides Over Literal Nothingness)

Yes Kanaya, this is exactly what she means.

ROXY: (pffft) ROXY: (yes thats what i mean :p) KANAYA: (Okay I Was Just Attempting To Clarify) KANAYA: (How Does One Surround Themselves With The Concept Of Nonexistence) ROXY: (i dunno!) ROXY: (when u put it that way it does sound pretty mind bending) ROXY: (i guess ive just been lucky?) ROXY: (or maybe the nothing is naturally attracted to me and lucks got nothin to do w it)

WELL YEAh, what isnt naturally attracted to you? Guys i just really love roxy help

ROXY: (but yeah i got that voidy ring @ one point) ROXY: (and when john started getting to fixing the timeline he took me to a place that felt like) ROXY: (the nothingest nothing to ever unexist) KANAYA: (That Sounds Interesting) KANAYA: (What Was It Like)

Probably nothing.

THATS a cool panel right there.

ROXY: (well it was) ROXY: (white) ROXY: (but not pure white) ROXY: (just slightly off) ROXY: (and) ROXY: (it was super vast) ROXY: (but not like regular outer space where you can actually see stuff like stars stretch on and on til you cant see it anymore) ROXY: (which at least gives u a sense of distance) ROXY: (but instead it was almost claustrophobic) ROXY: (cuz there was nothing there) ROXY: (you and all the other somethings just completely enveloped by a shrink wrap o absence)

HUmm.. thats pretty interesting to say the least. Not really sure what to think of it though! Just pretty nifty.

KANAYA: (Hmmmm) ROXY: (never really tried putting this into words) ROXY: (i think the thing about it was that the void sort of) ROXY: (changed) ROXY: (depending on how i chose to perceive it) ROXY: (cause the whole point is that its kinda like) ROXY: (idk) ROXY: (maybe a little like binary) KANAYA: (Binary?)

too bad sollux is dead he’d get a kick outta this.

did anybody make this connection. computer hacker guy who likes two’s. Binary. man. i feel like everybody did.

ROXY: (yknow binary) ROXY: (computer language) ROXY: (0011101100101001)

TRANSLATOr HELP

“;)“

omfg she just winked in binary.

KANAYA: (Oh That) ROXY: (the way that works is basically) ROXY: (you have a bit) ROXY: (like a computery bit) ROXY: (and it can say either 0 or 1) ROXY: (and dependin on which it is the computer displays the info differently) ROXY: (but the void is like a completely blank bit) ROXY: (there isnt a 0 or a 1 written on the bit yet but thats all were programmed to understand yknow) ROXY: (like 0 is technically nothing but whats important is that theres something there for you to see) ROXY: (but what im gettin at is that really void is just blank space waiting to be written on) ROXY: (by somebody like yours truly) ROXY: (im the computer and youre the person reading the display)

Oh. That’s pretty cool and shit. 

OH shes gettin all magicky here

ROXY: (and my whole voidy thing) ROXY: (is that i gotta figure out the code for whatever i wanna make exist) ROXY: (and write it on the blank bits) ROXY: (then) ROXY: (i snatch em outta the void!)

Oh AGAIN. YEAh, roxys power seems a lot cooler now.

ROXY: (yoink!!!)

*gasp*

nice lipstick yo

Kanaya is so fucking cute oml. She looks kinda dumbfounded by this lipstick.

KANAYA: (Wow) KANAYA: (That Was Really Quite Insightful Roxy) KANAYA: (I Think I Am Already Beginning To Understand Things Better) KANAYA: (But What Is This) ROXY: (p sure its lipstick!) ROXY: (and its 4 u) ROXY: (i dont rly know if pinks ur color but) ROXY: (here it is anyway!)

Oh god help me im already starting to ship it.

KANAYA: (Another Gift) KANAYA: (Why) ROXY: (daaaaw i dunno) ROXY: (i mean its actually kinda cool i was able to make this at all) ROXY: (i bet it must be bc of you somehow) ROXY: (you like lipstick right?) KANAYA: (Yes) ROXY: (i dont know if this is just me but i bet this is totes a thing w space players) ROXY: (like i get the vibe that u guys r more in touch with the objects around you) ROXY: (specially the ones thatre important to you) KANAYA: (I Suppose...)

HMm.. Interesting bit of aspect analysis. That could possibly be a thing.

ROXY: (well?) ROXY: (ru gonna take it or what) KANAYA: (I Really Cant Accept This) KANAYA: (I Was Attempting To Alleviate The Debt Of Gratitude I Have Already Been Accumulating Towards You) KANAYA: (A Measly Thank You Is Hardly Enough) KANAYA: (And Yet You Present Me With Even More To Be Thankful For)

COme on Kanaya dont be like that. Just take the thing and be hAPPY! you dont gotta prove yourself for a gift.

ROXY: (man thats not how this works) ROXY: (you dont owe me nothin) ROXY: (but heck if it makes u feel better) ROXY: (the space egg wasnt rly 4 u it was 4 all the little trollings that need to be born) ROXY: (skewering the batterwitch was definitely 4 me and earth and stuff) ROXY: (and the lipstick is to thank u for takin such good care of my mom :D)

Dont you mean your Rose?

KANAYA: (... That Does Make Me Feel Slightly Better) ROXY: (so youll take it??) KANAYA: (Okay) ROXY: (hella) KANAYA: (Thank You) KANAYA: (Again) ROXY: (dont mention it!)

She will likely mention this many times.

WEll that was the end for their interaction I suppose, so it seems like we get one page of another interaction then? I guess Dirk and Jake.

Ohp, yep. Jeez they look awkward.

DIRK: (... So.) JAKE: (...) DIRK: (...) DIRK: (That was some fight, huh.)

Goddammit this is awkward. 

JAKE: (Oh yes that sure was a doozy of a brawl we all just participated in.) JAKE: (Or rather multiple brawls.) DIRK: (I think you’re probably up to speed on exactly how well mine went.) JAKE: (Um.) JAKE: (Should i be?) DIRK: (Nevermind.)

Just another beheading of good ol’ Dirk. Seems like that’s a common thing for him. 

((OhOFOHSANSIJFN  HOLY SHIT I PRESSED A BUTTON AND FOR A SECOND I THOUGHT I ALMOST DELETED EVERYTHING I WROTE DAMMIT TUMBLR GIVE ME WARNINGS))

JAKE: (Sorry... its just difficult to, uh...) DIRK: (Don’t be sorry. It doesn’t actually matter.) JAKE: (The important part is you won right?) DIRK: (Yeah...) DIRK: (How did yours go?) DIRK: (If you feel like sharing, that is.) JAKE: (Oh i won too!) DIRK: (Well. Obviously.) DIRK: (I meant... like.) DIRK: (Specifically, HOW you won.) DIRK: (I’d be down to hear some details of all the kickassery you've been dishing out.) DIRK: (That must've been pretty crazy solo.)

Come ONNNN guys, quit dancing around the topic here. Somethings bothering you and its making everything shitty.

JAKE: (Oh.) JAKE: (Well i wasnt alone for long actually.) JAKE: (In fact it was quite the clusterfuck of skeletons sprites and green goblin brutes!) JAKE: (That crabby troll fellow even showed up at one point.) JAKE: (He seemed to be having a difficult time with one of the tinier rascals but i was up to my ears in fracas and fisticuffs myself and couldnt really lend him a hand.)

Dammit Karkat. I love him, but god he’s adorably pathetic in fights.

DIRK: (It looks like he’s alright, so no harm done.) DIRK: (How many of those green dudes were there again?) JAKE: (Im fairly certain there were 14.) DIRK: (And you trounced all of them?) JAKE: (Actually k...carat dealt with one of them i think.) JAKE: (They were small but a decidedly tricky foe. It was scurrying around so fast i dont think a single one of my bullets even grazed it!)

He has ALLLL the luck Jake, ALL of it!  Honestly, can we get a Vriska/Clover battle?

DIRK: (Well, shit. Sounds tough.) DIRK: (Still, my score reads "Jake: 13, Goblins: 0".) DIRK: (Oh, and I’m pretty sure the name you’re looking for is Karkat.) JAKE: (Is that so?) DIRK: (Yup.) JAKE: (My mistake then...) DIRK: (Don’t worry about it.)

Dammit Jake, don’t be so fucking hard on yourself. I feel bad for him now. Like, he’s beating himself up over not knowing a complete strangers name.

JAKE: (Have you spoken to him at all yet?) DIRK: (Nah.) JAKE: (Would you like to?) DIRK: (I guess? Sure.) DIRK: (He and Dave seem to be in the middle of something, though. No point in interrupting.) DIRK: (Besides, I’m talking to you right now.) JAKE: (...) DIRK: (...)

(...)

Alright dammit, I guess we’ll see if they get over whatever’s bugging them in the next update, because that’s the last page. Seeya next time and whatnot folks.

#homestuck #homestuck liveblog #act omega #act omega liveblog #hs act omega #hs act omega liveblog

[latestnews2018-blog]

'Generation Wealth' Is A Wild Peek Into The 1 Percent, Where Women Just Can't Win

New Post has been published on https://latestnews2018.com/generation-wealth-is-a-wild-peek-into-the-1-percent-where-women-just-cant-win/

'Generation Wealth' Is A Wild Peek Into The 1 Percent, Where Women Just Can't Win

One of the most prophetic photos in Lauren Greenfield’s 25-year-long documentary project, “Generation Wealth,” shows a 12-year-old Kim Kardashian hanging out with friends at a school dance in the early 1990s.

Dressed casually in overalls and a white T-shirt, Kardashian is more than a few reality TV spinoffs away away from the glam icon she’s become. Yet her lips are touched with rouge, hinting at a budding fancy for self-enhancement. And while her classmates ignore the camera in their midst, Kardashian perks up at the sight of it, gazing into the lens with curiosity and slight amazement. 

It’s an eerie premonition of what’s to come, the Kardashian-ization of our cultural consciousness. Back in the ’90s, Kim K. was another privileged kid at a Los Angeles middle school populated by celebrity offspring. But fast forward a couple decades and “[k]eeping up with the Joneses literally became keeping up with the Kardashians,” Greenfield often repeats in interviews about her project.

Greenfield, the filmmaker behind “The Queen of Versailles,” has spent two and a half decades obsessively filming, photographing and interviewing hundreds of subjects like pre-E! Kardashian, whose lives have been in some way warped by capitalism’s scourge ― from hedge fund managers to child beauty queens, aspiring rappers to trust fund teenagers. 

The anthropological study took the form of a photography exhibition last year, a disorienting glimpse into the lives of the 1 percent, as well as with those who crumble in their desperate attempt to reach the upper echelons. Now, it’s headed to the big screen as a documentary distributed by Amazon.

Overall, the documentary ― like the photo project that preceded it ― critiques what it perceives to be our new, debased American dream and everything that comes along with it: greed, vanity, unchecked ambition, an obsession with surfaces. All no good, very bad consequences of corporate capitalism.

Kardashian reappears in the film, framed as the embodiment of societal ills all grown up. Clips of her sex tape play as Courtney Roskop, a former adult film actress, says, “I always say Kim is my inspiration.”

Greenfield posits Kardashian as the ultimate incarnation of our fame-hungry culture and its all-consuming desire to get more by doing less. Her reality TV empire played a critical role in obscuring the line between fiction and reality. Most damningly, Greenfield suggests, she’s transformed her body into a commodity, embraced sexuality as a form of currency, and inspired other women to do so, too. 

And therein lies the problem with Greenfield’s doc. 

Whereas the project’s still photos depict their subjects ― flawed and outrageous as they may be ― with empathy and detached fascination, as if her camera can’t help but be somewhat seduced by the shiny horrors it aims to criticize, the film lacks this same nuance. Instead, it beats viewers over the head with overwrought narration, a cheesy soundtrack and a moralizing tone ― one that’s particularly deaf in its treatment of women, who, in an effort to climb the ladder to success, historically start more than a few rungs down from their male counterparts.

In the process of condemning the commodification of women’s bodies, “Generation Wealth” demonizes sexuality as a means of appealing to the men who profit most from the system anyway. And it fails to acknowledge sexual expression as anything but an unfortunate side effect of patriarchal capitalist culture’s blight. By embracing eroticism as a form of capital, Greenfield winds up alternately walloping and pitying the women who yearn for it and exude it. At times, her critiques of their lifestyle veer off the topic of wealth all together. 

In the end, Greenfield’s cinematic portrait paints the Donald Trumps and Stormy Danielses of the world with the same broad brush. 

Lauren Greenfield courtesy of Amazon Studios

For example, Greenfield invites “Generation Wealth” viewers into an upscale workout class, dubbed cardio striptease, where a room full of women spin around poles and dance suggestively as a teacher cheers them on.

“Let’s roll over and crawl and act like we like it,” the teacher says, as women move sensually on all fours. The smiles and laughter, however, suggest they genuinely do enjoy exploring their sexuality in such an open, though perhaps absurd, safe space. Greenfield interprets the scene differently. Even women who don’t financially benefit from their sexuality, she seems to argue, manage to exploit themselves. This is the capitalistic hellscape we occupy.

Cut to Magic City, a strip club in Atlanta, Georgia, where a combination of narration and hedonistic imagery cue the intended lesson. “At Magic City, beautiful girls use their sexual capital to rise to the top,” Greenfield proclaims, as images of naked black women dancing amid flurries of cash play on-screen. 

“When I first started dancing, I felt like I made it,” Diamond, a stripper at Magic City, tells Greenfield. Her words play over footage of women on their hands and knees, gathering wads of money from the floor. “Being average has never been an option for me.” The intended juxtaposition ― Diamond’s words versus the reality Greenfield sees ― is cringeworthy. 

Greenfield places the onus of responsibility not on the men treating women like objects (“I’m throwing money on a person, and she likes it!” a DJ who also works at the club says into the camera) but on the women who take pride in their work and their bodies for being blind to their supposed exploitation. Diamond doesn’t seem to possess the outrageously deep pockets of some of Greenfield’s other subjects, nor has she indicated in any way that stripping has negatively impacted her life. And yet Greenfield frames her as an unfortunate casualty in capitalism’s wake, conforming to the patriarchal underpinnings of the patrons and employers who might objectify her. 

Lauren Greenfield, courtesy of Amazon Studios

Adam, 13, and a go-go dancer hired to entertain at a bar mitzvah party at the Whisky a Go Go nightclub in West Hollywood, 1992.

But one need not venture into a strip club to witness women exploiting themselves, Greenfield argues. All you need is an internet connection. Although social media didn’t exist when her project began in the early ’90s, Greenfield suggests that it provides the perfect platform for women to Kardashian-ify themselves now. 

Take it from Greenfield’s 15-year-old son Noah, who conducted an “Instagram study” on the subject, the findings of which wound their way into his mom’s doc. “I feel like a lot of my friends are in very revealing bikinis to make sure they get a lot of likes,” he says against a backdrop of Instagram photos of underage girls in bathing suits, their faces blacked out.

“Guys want what’s really demeaning to women,” Noah continues, as an nude selfie of Kim K. hits the screen. “To match guys’ expectations, I think lot of women try to replicate it.” A 15-year-old boy’s dogged conviction that scantily clad women are debasing themselves for men’s enjoyment is taken as fact, thereby amplifying the film’s overarching message that women are incapable of subverting the capitalist trappings thrust upon them. 

Noah then discusses which Instagram posts don’t get as many likes: namely, in his experience, those which depict family. A cute family photo of the Greenfields flashes on screen.

Family, the film emphasizes, is the way out of our current consumer dystopia, and childbearing an antidote to women’s perpetual self-degradation. Most every hopeful moment in “Generation Wealth” revolves around family, and in particular, motherhood.

Suzanne, a workaholic who spent unseemly amounts of money on her personal appearance, describes feeling changed “so dramatically” by the birth of her daughter, whom she describes as “the prize.”

When she muses on her shifting spending habits, from contemporary art for herself to ballet classes for her daughter, the film’s happy Disney background music communicates a positive change has occurred. Never mind the fact that her spending seems just as exorbitant. 

Lauren Greenfield courtesy of Amazon Studios

Mijanou, 18, who was voted Best Physique at Beverly Hills High School, at Senior Beach Day, Santa Monica, California, 1993.

The sentiment continues as Greenfield revisits a woman named Mijanou, whom she initially met in 1994 as a high schooler in Los Angeles, when she was awarded “best body” of her graduating class.

As an adult, Mijanou is just as beautiful, though her style is more bohemian earth mother now. In the film, she runs with her daughter Sahaya through an idyllic field, conveniently located in the backyard of a mansion that she is probably not trespassing on, as she praises the benefits of “conscious parenting” and a TV-less lifestyle. 

“I feel protective over her. She’s so beautiful,” Mijanou says of her daughter, before recalling the more painful memories of her own adolescence. “I think about that time, and how even I used to dress, and I’m now like, oh my God, I would never want Sahaya to go out like that.”

She’s framed as having escaped consumerism’s devilish grips, primarily by covering up and giving birth.

Overall, the documentary provides a wild glimpse into the highest ranks of wealth. And it admits that, under capitalism, women get the short end of the stick. However, by framing family as the ultimate panacea to the damage consumerism inflicts, and caricaturing the women whose priorities remain elsewhere, Greenfield muddles her point.

She fails to consider that child-rearing isn’t an antidote to income inequality, but in fact, a sure way to perpetuate it. 

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[apsbicepstraining]

What it’s like to be diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at age 25

In February of 2015, after a busy weekend, I began feeling some tingling in the bottom of my feet. I thought that I was just sore from wearing heels, but within a few days, the numbness and tingling proceeded to go up my shins and into my knees and through my thighs. Id compare the feeling to when your foot falls asleep.

Although the sensation was getting more and more intense over the course of two or three days, I wasn’t super concerned. I thought that maybe my diet had played a role. I’m a very active person and I work in health and fitness PR, so I was just thinking, “Oh, maybe I’m not getting enough magnesium or something.”

After about five days of this feeling traveling inch by inch up my legs, I went to see my primary-care physician thanks to the advice of my sister, who’s a surgical nurse. My doctor quickly ordered an electromagnetic test (EMG) and an MRI to rule out meningitis, ALS, multiple sclerosis, and lymphoma. That’s when I started to get a little nervous.

The next day I went and got those tests done. By then, the numbness and tingling had become so severe that I almost couldn’t walkI could feel the pressure of the ground beneath me, but I was forcing my leg to move. By day seven, it was almost a state of complete paralysis.

The EMG was the first test and it began with them sticking needles all over my legs and then sending electromagnetic shocks through those needles to see how my nerves reacted. I’ll never forget it. The neurologist said I had severe swelling in my spinal cord, and ordered an immediate brain and spinal cord MRI.

When I was done with the MRI they said, “Go home, get some food because you’ve been in testing all day. Your doctor will likely call you and go over the results tomorrow or they’ll bring you in. Just relax.”

But within 10 minutes of me walking out of that place, my doctor called me and said, “I don’t mean to scare you but you need to stop whatever you’re doing right now and go into the ER. I just got your preliminary images and there’s a major, major area of swelling in your spinal cord. You need to seek treatment right away.” That was exceptionally terrifying. I thought that I was going to be able to relax and see what happens, but instead it was back to the ER, where they whisked me into a wheelchair right away.

That’s when the series of diagnostic tests took place. I had two spinal taps, blood work, etc. I had four different neurologists come down to put me through strength tests, like the sharp-soft test, where they break a toothpick in half and they ask you if you can tell the sharp side from the soft side. At this point, they were trying to diagnose me through a process of elimination. 

RELATED: THE SURPRISING REASON MOST PEOPLE GET CANCER

At first, they said, “Oh, you definitely have to spend the night”, then it was two nights, then three. Every day they would come back and say, “Oh, you don’t have AIDS”, and I’d think, “Great, this is wonderful. Wasn’t hoping for AIDS.”

But in all seriousness, AIDS is an autoimmune disease, which is what MS is, so its not too far off. They would say, “Oh, you don’t have lupus. We can rule out Lyme disease.” And so on, and so on

In the meantime, my doctors were trying to reduce my spinal swelling. Every day I got a little bit more feeling back, but there was still a lot I couldn’t feel.

Then after day four or five, doctors told me that I had transverse myelitis. A neurological disorder caused by inflammation of the spinal cord, transverse myelitis can be an initial indicator of multiple sclerosis, according to Kathleen Costello, vice president of healthcare access for the National MS Society. 

There’s no one test that can determine whether or not you have MS. It was the combined results from the MRI, the spinal tap, blood work, electrical tests, etc. (not to mention, my symptoms) that led my neurologists to that conclusion. By the time I got my diagnosis, I had already figured it would be something severe based on my symptoms. Despite that, I don’t think any young woman is ready to hear that she has MS.

RELATED: DO YOU HAVE A VITAMIN B12 DEFICIENCY? ANSWER THESE 5 QUESTIONS TO FIND OUT

I’ve been told the paralysis I experienced is one of the worst ways that MS can initially present itself. To put it in perspective, when some people are diagnosed with MS, their first symptoms are blurred vision or a lack of coordination or they have a little bit of numbness in their pinky finger, says Costello.

At the worst point, the paralysis had gone all the way up to the top of my ribcage, right below my bra line, and I felt a tightness, like someone was squeezing my ribs together, making it hard to breathe and hard to walk. That, I later found out, is called the MS hug, which is a common first symptom. For me to go from a person who is boxing and doing Crossfit and yoga classes seven days a week to not knowing if Id be able to walk again, was quite shocking.

Of those who suffer transverse myelitis, around 30 percent of them are never able to walk again, another 30 percent can walk with limited mobility and residual symptoms such as spastic gait and urinary urgency, and the last 30 percent get back, for the most part, full mobility. Thankfully, at the end of my recovery, I was in that last 30 percent, and now I’m walking and moving and working out and doing most of the things I used to be able to do.

However, I now live with permanent nerve damagea common side-effect of MS. Any time it gets above 75 degrees or there’s humidity in the air, I have tingling all up and down the back of my legs and my spinal cord. I have this thing called LHermitte. It’s this weird, residual effect that happens when you put your chin to your chest, like if I’m looking down at my phone or if I’m tying my shoe. I get a weird electronic sensation from my nerves misfiring down my back. The way that I best can describe the sensation is that it feels like there’s a vibrator on your back.

Today, I tire much more quickly and I can’t do workouts that are as strenuous as what I used to do. Sometimes I can’t wear heels for too long because Ill begin feeling numbness and tingling. Im still navigating the waters of my mobility, but Im just thankful to not be confined to a wheelchair and have feeling in both my legs.

I had another attack recently, which was much less severe and less traumatizing. I lost feeling in my left arm, but this time I knew what it was and I got on steroid treatment right away. Now I have most of my feeling back with minimal permanent damage. Today, I manage my disease by adhering to a very strict, clean diet, going for MRIs every few months and blood tests every couple weeks, and taking medication and/or seeing my doctor when another attack comes on.

Theres a common misconception that MS is like ALS or that it’s this degenerative, terminal thing, that I’m just going to keep getting worse and worse and there’s nothing to stop it. It seems so much worse than it is. What I’m learning is that you can have an attack and then not have another attack for 30 years; that’s very common. On the other hand, you can have five attacks in two years, which could be really bad and result in a lot of permanent nerve damage. There is a chance that I could be in a wheelchair five or 10 years from now, but that chance is very slim. My youth and the fact that Ive led such a healthy lifestyle have both helped me recover from attacks quickly so far.

For me, the hardest part of all this is the unknown. There is no cure, so I’m waking up every morning wondering if Im going to have another attack, or if today is going to be the day where five lesions pop up into my brain and I wont walk again.

Eighty percent of people diagnosed with MS are Caucasian females in their childbearing years. Learning that statistic was shocking, but in a way, I was comforted by itI feel less alone.

RELATED: ARE YOUR PERIODS IRREGULAR? YOU COULD HAVE THIS SYNDROME AND NOT EVEN KNOW IT

The one thing I want everyone to know is that I can still live my life with this disease. A lot of people dont realize thateven my own friends.

I’ve had friends talk badly about me, saying things like, Well, if shes so sick, hows she drinking on Saturday at a rooftop brunch? and wondering why I look perfectly normal.

Its hard to be open with people because I can see how they might think Im using my disease as an excuse when its convenient. But the reality is I have bad days and I have good dayssometimes I feel ready to take on the world and other days I cant physically get out of bed.

I think thats been one of the more difficult parts for me, dealing with other peoples perceptions and judgments. Whether they think Im dying or being dramatic, its impossible for them to understand what I and other people with MS go through, which leads to misconceptions.

I dont blame people for being confused, but at the same time, I’m not going to lie down and not do things. I’m still a 25-year-old living in New York City. I’m going to have fun. I still want to date and try to find a good guyeven though that situation now comes with a plethora of complications.

At the end of the day, Im learning to appreciate every moment. Yes, it would be great to not have MS, but Im very aware of how lucky I am that my case isnt more severe. Thats been my greatest take away from this experience: Dont take anything for granted.

This article originally appeared on WomensHealthMag.com.

The post What it’s like to be diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at age 25 appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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[apsbicepstraining]

What it’s like to be diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at age 25

In February of 2015, after a busy weekend, I began feeling some tingling in the bottom of my feet. I thought that I was just sore from wearing heels, but within a few days, the numbness and tingling proceeded to go up my shins and into my knees and through my thighs. Id compare the feeling to when your foot falls asleep.

Although the sensation was getting more and more intense over the course of two or three days, I wasn’t super concerned. I thought that maybe my diet had played a role. I’m a very active person and I work in health and fitness PR, so I was just thinking, “Oh, maybe I’m not getting enough magnesium or something.”

After about five days of this feeling traveling inch by inch up my legs, I went to see my primary-care physician thanks to the advice of my sister, who’s a surgical nurse. My doctor quickly ordered an electromagnetic test (EMG) and an MRI to rule out meningitis, ALS, multiple sclerosis, and lymphoma. That’s when I started to get a little nervous.

The next day I went and got those tests done. By then, the numbness and tingling had become so severe that I almost couldn’t walkI could feel the pressure of the ground beneath me, but I was forcing my leg to move. By day seven, it was almost a state of complete paralysis.

The EMG was the first test and it began with them sticking needles all over my legs and then sending electromagnetic shocks through those needles to see how my nerves reacted. I’ll never forget it. The neurologist said I had severe swelling in my spinal cord, and ordered an immediate brain and spinal cord MRI.

When I was done with the MRI they said, “Go home, get some food because you’ve been in testing all day. Your doctor will likely call you and go over the results tomorrow or they’ll bring you in. Just relax.”

But within 10 minutes of me walking out of that place, my doctor called me and said, “I don’t mean to scare you but you need to stop whatever you’re doing right now and go into the ER. I just got your preliminary images and there’s a major, major area of swelling in your spinal cord. You need to seek treatment right away.” That was exceptionally terrifying. I thought that I was going to be able to relax and see what happens, but instead it was back to the ER, where they whisked me into a wheelchair right away.

That’s when the series of diagnostic tests took place. I had two spinal taps, blood work, etc. I had four different neurologists come down to put me through strength tests, like the sharp-soft test, where they break a toothpick in half and they ask you if you can tell the sharp side from the soft side. At this point, they were trying to diagnose me through a process of elimination. 

RELATED: THE SURPRISING REASON MOST PEOPLE GET CANCER

At first, they said, “Oh, you definitely have to spend the night”, then it was two nights, then three. Every day they would come back and say, “Oh, you don’t have AIDS”, and I’d think, “Great, this is wonderful. Wasn’t hoping for AIDS.”

But in all seriousness, AIDS is an autoimmune disease, which is what MS is, so its not too far off. They would say, “Oh, you don’t have lupus. We can rule out Lyme disease.” And so on, and so on

In the meantime, my doctors were trying to reduce my spinal swelling. Every day I got a little bit more feeling back, but there was still a lot I couldn’t feel.

Then after day four or five, doctors told me that I had transverse myelitis. A neurological disorder caused by inflammation of the spinal cord, transverse myelitis can be an initial indicator of multiple sclerosis, according to Kathleen Costello, vice president of healthcare access for the National MS Society. 

There’s no one test that can determine whether or not you have MS. It was the combined results from the MRI, the spinal tap, blood work, electrical tests, etc. (not to mention, my symptoms) that led my neurologists to that conclusion. By the time I got my diagnosis, I had already figured it would be something severe based on my symptoms. Despite that, I don’t think any young woman is ready to hear that she has MS.

RELATED: DO YOU HAVE A VITAMIN B12 DEFICIENCY? ANSWER THESE 5 QUESTIONS TO FIND OUT

I’ve been told the paralysis I experienced is one of the worst ways that MS can initially present itself. To put it in perspective, when some people are diagnosed with MS, their first symptoms are blurred vision or a lack of coordination or they have a little bit of numbness in their pinky finger, says Costello.

At the worst point, the paralysis had gone all the way up to the top of my ribcage, right below my bra line, and I felt a tightness, like someone was squeezing my ribs together, making it hard to breathe and hard to walk. That, I later found out, is called the MS hug, which is a common first symptom. For me to go from a person who is boxing and doing Crossfit and yoga classes seven days a week to not knowing if Id be able to walk again, was quite shocking.

Of those who suffer transverse myelitis, around 30 percent of them are never able to walk again, another 30 percent can walk with limited mobility and residual symptoms such as spastic gait and urinary urgency, and the last 30 percent get back, for the most part, full mobility. Thankfully, at the end of my recovery, I was in that last 30 percent, and now I’m walking and moving and working out and doing most of the things I used to be able to do.

However, I now live with permanent nerve damagea common side-effect of MS. Any time it gets above 75 degrees or there’s humidity in the air, I have tingling all up and down the back of my legs and my spinal cord. I have this thing called LHermitte. It’s this weird, residual effect that happens when you put your chin to your chest, like if I’m looking down at my phone or if I’m tying my shoe. I get a weird electronic sensation from my nerves misfiring down my back. The way that I best can describe the sensation is that it feels like there’s a vibrator on your back.

Today, I tire much more quickly and I can’t do workouts that are as strenuous as what I used to do. Sometimes I can’t wear heels for too long because Ill begin feeling numbness and tingling. Im still navigating the waters of my mobility, but Im just thankful to not be confined to a wheelchair and have feeling in both my legs.

I had another attack recently, which was much less severe and less traumatizing. I lost feeling in my left arm, but this time I knew what it was and I got on steroid treatment right away. Now I have most of my feeling back with minimal permanent damage. Today, I manage my disease by adhering to a very strict, clean diet, going for MRIs every few months and blood tests every couple weeks, and taking medication and/or seeing my doctor when another attack comes on.

Theres a common misconception that MS is like ALS or that it’s this degenerative, terminal thing, that I’m just going to keep getting worse and worse and there’s nothing to stop it. It seems so much worse than it is. What I’m learning is that you can have an attack and then not have another attack for 30 years; that’s very common. On the other hand, you can have five attacks in two years, which could be really bad and result in a lot of permanent nerve damage. There is a chance that I could be in a wheelchair five or 10 years from now, but that chance is very slim. My youth and the fact that Ive led such a healthy lifestyle have both helped me recover from attacks quickly so far.

For me, the hardest part of all this is the unknown. There is no cure, so I’m waking up every morning wondering if Im going to have another attack, or if today is going to be the day where five lesions pop up into my brain and I wont walk again.

Eighty percent of people diagnosed with MS are Caucasian females in their childbearing years. Learning that statistic was shocking, but in a way, I was comforted by itI feel less alone.

RELATED: ARE YOUR PERIODS IRREGULAR? YOU COULD HAVE THIS SYNDROME AND NOT EVEN KNOW IT

The one thing I want everyone to know is that I can still live my life with this disease. A lot of people dont realize thateven my own friends.

I’ve had friends talk badly about me, saying things like, Well, if shes so sick, hows she drinking on Saturday at a rooftop brunch? and wondering why I look perfectly normal.

Its hard to be open with people because I can see how they might think Im using my disease as an excuse when its convenient. But the reality is I have bad days and I have good dayssometimes I feel ready to take on the world and other days I cant physically get out of bed.

I think thats been one of the more difficult parts for me, dealing with other peoples perceptions and judgments. Whether they think Im dying or being dramatic, its impossible for them to understand what I and other people with MS go through, which leads to misconceptions.

I dont blame people for being confused, but at the same time, I’m not going to lie down and not do things. I’m still a 25-year-old living in New York City. I’m going to have fun. I still want to date and try to find a good guyeven though that situation now comes with a plethora of complications.

At the end of the day, Im learning to appreciate every moment. Yes, it would be great to not have MS, but Im very aware of how lucky I am that my case isnt more severe. Thats been my greatest take away from this experience: Dont take anything for granted.

This article originally appeared on WomensHealthMag.com.

The post What it’s like to be diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at age 25 appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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What it’s like to be diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at age 25

In February of 2015, after a busy weekend, I began feeling some tingling in the bottom of my feet. I thought that I was just sore from wearing heels, but within a few days, the numbness and tingling proceeded to go up my shins and into my knees and through my thighs. Id compare the feeling to when your foot falls asleep.

Although the sensation was getting more and more intense over the course of two or three days, I wasn’t super concerned. I thought that maybe my diet had played a role. I’m a very active person and I work in health and fitness PR, so I was just thinking, “Oh, maybe I’m not getting enough magnesium or something.”

After about five days of this feeling traveling inch by inch up my legs, I went to see my primary-care physician thanks to the advice of my sister, who’s a surgical nurse. My doctor quickly ordered an electromagnetic test (EMG) and an MRI to rule out meningitis, ALS, multiple sclerosis, and lymphoma. That’s when I started to get a little nervous.

The next day I went and got those tests done. By then, the numbness and tingling had become so severe that I almost couldn’t walkI could feel the pressure of the ground beneath me, but I was forcing my leg to move. By day seven, it was almost a state of complete paralysis.

The EMG was the first test and it began with them sticking needles all over my legs and then sending electromagnetic shocks through those needles to see how my nerves reacted. I’ll never forget it. The neurologist said I had severe swelling in my spinal cord, and ordered an immediate brain and spinal cord MRI.

When I was done with the MRI they said, “Go home, get some food because you’ve been in testing all day. Your doctor will likely call you and go over the results tomorrow or they’ll bring you in. Just relax.”

But within 10 minutes of me walking out of that place, my doctor called me and said, “I don’t mean to scare you but you need to stop whatever you’re doing right now and go into the ER. I just got your preliminary images and there’s a major, major area of swelling in your spinal cord. You need to seek treatment right away.” That was exceptionally terrifying. I thought that I was going to be able to relax and see what happens, but instead it was back to the ER, where they whisked me into a wheelchair right away.

That’s when the series of diagnostic tests took place. I had two spinal taps, blood work, etc. I had four different neurologists come down to put me through strength tests, like the sharp-soft test, where they break a toothpick in half and they ask you if you can tell the sharp side from the soft side. At this point, they were trying to diagnose me through a process of elimination. 

RELATED: THE SURPRISING REASON MOST PEOPLE GET CANCER

At first, they said, “Oh, you definitely have to spend the night”, then it was two nights, then three. Every day they would come back and say, “Oh, you don’t have AIDS”, and I’d think, “Great, this is wonderful. Wasn’t hoping for AIDS.”

But in all seriousness, AIDS is an autoimmune disease, which is what MS is, so its not too far off. They would say, “Oh, you don’t have lupus. We can rule out Lyme disease.” And so on, and so on

In the meantime, my doctors were trying to reduce my spinal swelling. Every day I got a little bit more feeling back, but there was still a lot I couldn’t feel.

Then after day four or five, doctors told me that I had transverse myelitis. A neurological disorder caused by inflammation of the spinal cord, transverse myelitis can be an initial indicator of multiple sclerosis, according to Kathleen Costello, vice president of healthcare access for the National MS Society. 

There’s no one test that can determine whether or not you have MS. It was the combined results from the MRI, the spinal tap, blood work, electrical tests, etc. (not to mention, my symptoms) that led my neurologists to that conclusion. By the time I got my diagnosis, I had already figured it would be something severe based on my symptoms. Despite that, I don’t think any young woman is ready to hear that she has MS.

RELATED: DO YOU HAVE A VITAMIN B12 DEFICIENCY? ANSWER THESE 5 QUESTIONS TO FIND OUT

I’ve been told the paralysis I experienced is one of the worst ways that MS can initially present itself. To put it in perspective, when some people are diagnosed with MS, their first symptoms are blurred vision or a lack of coordination or they have a little bit of numbness in their pinky finger, says Costello.

At the worst point, the paralysis had gone all the way up to the top of my ribcage, right below my bra line, and I felt a tightness, like someone was squeezing my ribs together, making it hard to breathe and hard to walk. That, I later found out, is called the MS hug, which is a common first symptom. For me to go from a person who is boxing and doing Crossfit and yoga classes seven days a week to not knowing if Id be able to walk again, was quite shocking.

Of those who suffer transverse myelitis, around 30 percent of them are never able to walk again, another 30 percent can walk with limited mobility and residual symptoms such as spastic gait and urinary urgency, and the last 30 percent get back, for the most part, full mobility. Thankfully, at the end of my recovery, I was in that last 30 percent, and now I’m walking and moving and working out and doing most of the things I used to be able to do.

However, I now live with permanent nerve damagea common side-effect of MS. Any time it gets above 75 degrees or there’s humidity in the air, I have tingling all up and down the back of my legs and my spinal cord. I have this thing called LHermitte. It’s this weird, residual effect that happens when you put your chin to your chest, like if I’m looking down at my phone or if I’m tying my shoe. I get a weird electronic sensation from my nerves misfiring down my back. The way that I best can describe the sensation is that it feels like there’s a vibrator on your back.

Today, I tire much more quickly and I can’t do workouts that are as strenuous as what I used to do. Sometimes I can’t wear heels for too long because Ill begin feeling numbness and tingling. Im still navigating the waters of my mobility, but Im just thankful to not be confined to a wheelchair and have feeling in both my legs.

I had another attack recently, which was much less severe and less traumatizing. I lost feeling in my left arm, but this time I knew what it was and I got on steroid treatment right away. Now I have most of my feeling back with minimal permanent damage. Today, I manage my disease by adhering to a very strict, clean diet, going for MRIs every few months and blood tests every couple weeks, and taking medication and/or seeing my doctor when another attack comes on.

Theres a common misconception that MS is like ALS or that it’s this degenerative, terminal thing, that I’m just going to keep getting worse and worse and there’s nothing to stop it. It seems so much worse than it is. What I’m learning is that you can have an attack and then not have another attack for 30 years; that’s very common. On the other hand, you can have five attacks in two years, which could be really bad and result in a lot of permanent nerve damage. There is a chance that I could be in a wheelchair five or 10 years from now, but that chance is very slim. My youth and the fact that Ive led such a healthy lifestyle have both helped me recover from attacks quickly so far.

For me, the hardest part of all this is the unknown. There is no cure, so I’m waking up every morning wondering if Im going to have another attack, or if today is going to be the day where five lesions pop up into my brain and I wont walk again.

Eighty percent of people diagnosed with MS are Caucasian females in their childbearing years. Learning that statistic was shocking, but in a way, I was comforted by itI feel less alone.

RELATED: ARE YOUR PERIODS IRREGULAR? YOU COULD HAVE THIS SYNDROME AND NOT EVEN KNOW IT

The one thing I want everyone to know is that I can still live my life with this disease. A lot of people dont realize thateven my own friends.

I’ve had friends talk badly about me, saying things like, Well, if shes so sick, hows she drinking on Saturday at a rooftop brunch? and wondering why I look perfectly normal.

Its hard to be open with people because I can see how they might think Im using my disease as an excuse when its convenient. But the reality is I have bad days and I have good dayssometimes I feel ready to take on the world and other days I cant physically get out of bed.

I think thats been one of the more difficult parts for me, dealing with other peoples perceptions and judgments. Whether they think Im dying or being dramatic, its impossible for them to understand what I and other people with MS go through, which leads to misconceptions.

I dont blame people for being confused, but at the same time, I’m not going to lie down and not do things. I’m still a 25-year-old living in New York City. I’m going to have fun. I still want to date and try to find a good guyeven though that situation now comes with a plethora of complications.

At the end of the day, Im learning to appreciate every moment. Yes, it would be great to not have MS, but Im very aware of how lucky I am that my case isnt more severe. Thats been my greatest take away from this experience: Dont take anything for granted.

This article originally appeared on WomensHealthMag.com.

The post What it’s like to be diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at age 25 appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

from WordPress http://ift.tt/2wQPu7f via IFTTT

#IFTTT #WordPress