Miss You

Fragile Love

I cannot shake the feeling that I’m losing you. And there is nothing I can do to prevent it.

I have hurt you in the past and even though time has passed, the wounds have not healed. Instead, you said that you could not count on me in the future and that you refuse to make plans for us together on the long term. That I am unpredictable in that sense.

That thought keeps spinning around in my head. How I cannot do anything about the pain, the mental scar, that I’ve given you. No time or love can make that right. Nothing I can do but hope.

It hurts, and frankly it has occupied my thoughts for the last few days. Because I love you, and I don’t want to lose you.

You, whose very presence makes my heart race and my day bright. The fiery bird I love spending lazy weekends with; just watching movies, playing games, cuddling and kissing, having funny conversations with animal noises. My kitten who knows where I’m ticklish, my tigress between the sheets.

I just hope, and pray, that our relationship will last.

Reflections

I have been watching you without words. Perhaps I was too mesmerized by your actions or perhaps I mistook my mere presence as enough, but without realizing it I became part of your background instead of your life.

Why is it that something must happen for me to see those errors? You pointed them out, said I did not respond to your blogs, I did not write about you, for you, anymore.

This is where I try to set it right. To break the cycle of inactivity and silence, of being but a reflection in the water instead of a whole person with whom you can talk and joke and love.

Because I want to be part of your life, sweet spider lady, and not just as a spectator. A participant in your moments of joy, a shoulder to cry on in moments of sorrow, an instigator of warm feelings in you.

I love you, my ladyfriend.

Interesting quotations

"When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down 'happy'. They told me I didn't understand the assignment, and I told them they didn't understand life."
- John Lennon

"Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe."
- Albert Einstein

"My goal in life is to become as wonderful as my dog thinks I am."
- unknown

"True friends stab you in the front."
- Oscar Wilde

"Love me when I least deserve it, because that's when I really need it."
- Swedish proverb

"Without money we'd all be rich."
- unknown

"The future is not what it used to be."
- unknown

"Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are."
- Kurt Cobain

"People change. Now I'm a lamp."
- random idiot

Reflections

The Dragon looked behind, and looked ahead. "What now?" 
The Sea shrugged, and the Sky whispered, "Whatever."

Happy 2013, dear reader. May this year bring you joy and fortune.

When I was very young, I once read an article about a certain Mayan prediction about the end of the world in 2012. Easily frightened, I remembered that date and lived my life according to an idea, however ridiculous, that I would die in 2012.

Of course, common sense caught up with that idea and I knew for certain such a thing would not happen. But still, it was a relief when 2013 came around yesterday. Somehow my childhood fears are stronger than I thought.

Standing on the beach today, I realized that I had not made plans for beyond this moment. Big plans, I mean, like what my life would look like, whether I would have children; stuff like that. Today I realized that I have not looked beyond, and I found myself asking, What's next?

Obviously the sea, nor the sand, nor the clouds, answered. They care not about the choices of one person, and that was somehow comforting.

An overwhelming multitude of choices lays ahead of me. The universe offers, and all I need to do is decide.

Do I want to keep my current job, or go back to school?

Meditate on this, I will.

End of the World

So here we are, December 23rd 2012. Two days after the world was supposed to end, yet I still live and you do, too.

The world did not end. Or did it?

I turn on my television and I see a world in flames. Civil wars, polar ice melting, forests destroyed, oceans polluted, people wishing other people dead. Laws, rules and money are more important than people; lives are currency in a desperate attempt to preserve a status quo that has become the death of us all. The world is burning in the fires we create.

I once predicted the end of the Western world, but now I see that it is not just the West that is falling. It is the entire human civilization, and with it, Mother Earth.

I was mistaken - we were mistaken. The end has already come. The world is dead, and we are fighting over its carcass.

The New Age of the Mayas has come too late.

Funky Monk

Secret life of animals

Ode to naval rogues

The king and his men,
Stole the queen from her bed,
And bound her in her bones.
The seas be ours,
and by the powers,
Where we will, we'll roam.

Yo, ho, all hands,
Hoist the colours high.
Heave ho, thieves and beggars,
Never shall we die!

Yo, ho, haul together,
Hoist the colours high.
Heave ho, thieves and beggars,
Never shall we die!

Some men have died,
And some are alive,
And others sail on the sea
-- With the keys to the cage...
And the Devil to pay,
We lay to Fiddler's Green!

The bell has been raised
From its watery grave...
Do you hear its sepulchral tone?
A call to all,
Pay heed the squall
And turn your sail to home!

Yo ho, haul together,
Hoist the Colors high.
Heave ho, thieves and beggars,
Never shall we die!

Abort, Retry, Ignore -- Poe Puree

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over user guides and handbooks piled up on the desk and floor --
As I nodded, after nine or ten straight hours of design,
I finely drew the final line, then pulled a floppy out to store --
Locked and loaded, then, I saved, and waited for the disc to store;
Only this and nothing more.

Ah, distinctly I kept hearing such a sound it set me fearing,
Fearing as I sat there peering at the Saved Percentage score,
Fearing, as the disc kept turning, turning with a grinding, churning
Sound while I was yearning -- yearning as I'd never yearned before,
"Save!" I yearned again, but hopeless, read the words I'd feared before:
Read: "Abort, Retry, Ignore."

"What is this?" I barely muttered, "What's this message you have uttered,
Uttered as my floppy fluttered, fluttered locked inside your door?"
But there came no soothing voices helping me among these choices,
With these unfamiliar choices, just the cursor's either/or --
Just the cursor blinking, blinking for my choice of either/or
From "Abort, Retry, Ignore."

Much I marveled: this repeating cursor like a heartbeat beating
Answered nothing, thus defeating all attempts to re-explore
Whether I'd done something sloppy -- what had happened to that floppy
I'd inserted there to copy all the work I'd done before --
What had happened to the art, the artwork I had done before,
Before "Abort, Retry, Ignore."?

Art, not software, is my calling; it’s particularly galling
To be hesitating, stalling, stalling over one key more
When, instead of starkly staring, stunned, at high-tech so uncaring,
High-tech blindly overbearing, I could open up my drawer,
Get my low-tech colored pencils from their matching low-tech drawer
Beneath "Abort, Retry, Ignore."

But no, I had to get ambitious, buy some modern meretricious
Merchandise that leaves me vicious messages that seem to roar,
Well, not really roar, but tease, as, fingers trembling over keys,
I finally choose from one of these atrocious choices I abhor
A choice I know will be atrocious, one I finally must abhor
Among "Abort, Retry, Ignore."

No result! So twice as hard, to try and catch the thing off-guard,
I pressed, but still the same canard appeared until I nearly swore.
Frantically in desperation, pushing keys in combination,
Getting tintinabulation: "Beep beep beep", and nothing more,
Cacaphonous concatenation, "Beep beep beep", and nothing more;
Except "Abort, Retry, Ignore."

Then I thought I heard the thunder, felt the thunder rumble under,
Through, the floorboards, and no wonder! Lightning split the dark night's core!
Lightning piercing lightning slashing through the night like sword- wounds gashing
Darkness deeply, when my flashing cursor flashed! -- then flashed no more;
Flashed a final time and then -- erased itself to flash no more;
Erased "Abort, Retry, Ignore."

The lights went out, then came back on, and in the cold grey light of dawn
Profit and design were gone; gone, returning: nevermore --.
Gone my imitation Titian, like a ghost or apparition,
But gone as well the admonition I must choose and choose once more
Gone: the price of manumission from demands to choose once more
Among "Abort, Retry, Ignore."

Now my cursor still is blinking; is it winking? Yes! It’s winking! --
Winking at me from the screen beside the disc that wouldn’t store;
Winking at me from the black, though nothing else comes blinking back
Along the phosphorescent track that throws a shadow on the floor;
And my art, from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be found now -- nevermore!



Written by Marcus Bales: link

Some random things I wrote during class today

Random I

Roses are black
Violets are grey
The world lies in darkness
And I go away.

Random II

I blossom into the light
And enjoy the world of day
Flowers and colours around me
Oh how I wish that I could stay.


By the way, don't worry: I'm not all this gloomy. It is just that I feel that the darker side of life is much more interesting for artistic expression, don't you think?

Murder

If we believe that murder is wrong and not admissible in our society, then it has to be wrong for everyone, not just individuals but governments as well.
- Helen Prejean, Dead Man Walking

After all, every murderer when he kills runs the risk of the most dreadful of deaths, whereas those who kill him risk nothing except promotion.
- Albert Camus (1913-1960)


Osama Bin Laden is dead. Killed in a well-planned mission by people in uniforms, with permission from the American president.

Just in time for the re-election of Obama.

It is fitting how so many of the American people, those ignorant sheep, celebrate the death of the most famous terrorist in our lifetime. Justice, they say, and revenge. An eye for an eye.

And what does the world learn? Do other terrorists now tremble in fear and see the error of their ways? Do children in the Middle East now see the American Eagle as a gentle loving giant, or as an agressive tyrant with a lust for Arab blood?

Do not mistake my words; the terrors the now deceased bearded man has (supposedly) unleashed are worse than any words can describe. Hundreds, thousands have died and many more have suffered, all because of him.

But to celebrate the death of another human being? To become the killer of killers? Not only is it pointless, for there will always be more killers, but it is also immoral.

To say that murder is wrong, and then to kill any who commit it -- such is arrogance and hypocrisy.

Mourn the dead, and seek to find true justice instead.

XP Hunters

Never split the party

Webs of Passion

She caught me in her web.

I'm not entirely certain how it happened, but that little spider caught the big bad dragon and bit him, gently. Her sweet venom spread through my veins and limbs, causing me to succumb to her mystic spell -- and love it.

She is a fiery thing, my beautiful bird of the sun. Her desire, once kindled, burns wildly and demands to be fueled. I am but a servant to her fire, which sets me ablaze in turn. I live for our combined fire.

She spins soft webs around us while we make sweet love. No matter how alluring her hoarse whispers in my ear, she herself is much more lovely by far. Her softness, eagerness and sexiness know no bounds, and I crave to hear her moans and whimpers of pleasure as I stroke her and kiss her and enter her.

Never before has this little lizard experienced such a wonderful woman before, who challenges, seduces and stimulates him.

I love you, webspinner girl.

Big news!

The Dragon is blah.

Very blah.

Completely, irrevocably blah.

So.

Blah is the word.

Big blah.

Silent shadow

Two red eyes glowing in the dark night. Not a sound as the secretive stalker closes in on her target.

Quiet even for a drow, she moves gracefully behind the man's back, her poisoned dagger no longer conceiled.

One stab, and another. She whispers in his ear; "you shouldn't have left me, my love."

He gasps, grabs his torso but the blood does not stop flowing. His life, his essence, fleeing from his body.

The assassin leaves silently, letting the man die alone.

The man moans in agony, then smiles. The previously registered antidote kicks in.

So predictable. She will not bother him for a while.

It does hurt like hell, though.

Dragon inside

A new room, a new experience.

I feel like an explorer of sorts, a wandering spirit discovering untamed lands and encountering new challenges with every passing moment.

This place is alive, and although some have gone before, it seems as if none but me have been willing to discover everything. Unseen eyes are watching my every movement and sudden moves send shivers down a spine I do not see, yet sense nearby.

I have found pieces of the heart of this place before, and now I have found another. A large and brilliant red gem, it beckons me and whispers to my mind and body. Only a few parts seem to have been exposed recently, and I wipe away the dust on some others.

The hungry ruby grows as a tiny part of me is consumed, feeding the life of the warm stone and adding more and joyful colours to this place. I gain energy by its beauty, and pass it back to that welcoming aspect of desire in a marvelous cycle of joy.

The gem grows larger and demanding, and I am willing to provide.

I embrace it, placing it against my chest. I have just touched a few of the surfaces, and I am curious what those others will do.

My explorations continue, and I purr at the very thought.

I love this place.

Secret room

I opened the door and she let me in. It was new and exciting, and at the same time it felt like I belonged there.

She had given me the key, and it took me time and courage to use it. Claiming that I was content to stay outside and only later realizing it was not her I was fooling, but myself. I wanted to go inside, to share that room with her.

And now I have. Will everything change now? I cannot honestly say. Some things will change, others will not; which things fall in what category, I do not yet know. The future is moving and changing as we talk and act.

I do not make promises about "forever" because I am not forever or unchanging. And I don't make promises if I do not know if I can keep them.

What I can promise is that I will try my hardest to be the best person to share that room with. That I will want to make you happy -- or happier than you were before. That I will protect you when you want me to, and to let you be when you so request. That I will open up to you and be vulnerable at times, and be your playmate at other times.

Because I want to know you, all of you, and love each and every part of you. In our own secret room.

Goth is overrated

There's a blackness in my soul,
A stormcloud brewing inside,
And I am loath to live with joy
Ever since my goldfish died.

Now I've only wished to die,
And my heart has turned a charcoal-black
E'er since the pop machine stole my quarter;
Woe! That coin I'll not get back.

I nicked myself shaving just last week,
And as I observed the trickling blood,
I could feel my black and wretched soul
Ebbing with the crimson flood.

And now death can't come quickly enough,
To carry me away from the rain,
Because we're out of Rocky Road,
And my poor soul can't deal with the pain.

Goth Is Overrated
by ~DreamerOfShadows