A Music, Life, and Sex Blog about My Immortal Youth
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Friday, May 19, 2006
To the ever delicious Ryan: I assume I am Joe.
Kristy, because I don't know a single person who doesn't get along with her.
Joy, because the people who don't get along with her, there's probably something wrong with their heads.
Eternal, because she is a goddess.
Zeb, because he is a genius, an enterpreneur, and a new bottle.
Clare, because she is a tigress.
Ryan, because she is coy and tasteful.
Charlotte, because she is so alive, and makes me feel alive.
Florence, because she sparkles.
Alyx, because she is contrast.
Angie Luna, who will never read this, because she is a precious stone in a dark mine.
Now, I want to tag people for this, not just out of duty or tradition, but because I think appreciating people is a really great thing to be blogging about. It is something uplifting, new weapon-y, loving, bonding, something FAMILY. So let's see. The following people are my recommendations to carry the torch:
Celeste is an appreciative person!
Sherri Centered I would like to see.
Miss Haven Benino would be fun.
Peephole Gio, the famous rock star.
Nina Claunch and her "mother's knack" for kind words.
Jason Nashville could stand a bit of positivity.
Kevin the Hollow Twin, appreciation with a bite, extraordinaire.
Mavilin probably needs something inspiring to do.
Nyx is sweet.
And... how about a site which I think is somewhat popular, Justin: The Appreciative Hobbit.
I know you guys are all extremely talented people. Let's put some effort into this and kick off the new blogging sunrise with a bang.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Blah, blah, blah. Do I want to blog today? No! Am I doing it anyway? Yes! Take a lesson in faithfulness. Consider yourselves uplifted and spiritually heightened by this considerate morsel.
Now prepare to have fun.
Check out what I found. And you can put it on YOUR blog too! Actually I found this about three months ago. But there were so many other fun things to post. Anyway, now there isn't, so you get to experience the carnal beauty.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Drivers Are Murderers 2
Back to the serious side of life.
Semi-professionals are appearing from nowhere and taking over the situation. A firemen, a traffic cop. You get as close as you can get with your arms outstretched and try to cover everything in a thick layer of key power. Pain, injury, long term, trauma. You call on everyone you can think of.
There is nothing else you can do. You hope you will make it home but you are shaking as you walk back to the car.
I rest my case.
Because of the sheer speed, size and steel, the car always is at fault. The responsibility will always lie with the bigger of the two animals, the leader, the teacher, the two tons of steel and glass and demon-possessed mechanics.
Because of the stakes involved it is absolutely unpardonable to show even the slightest bit of disregard or selfishness behind the wheel. Stupid racers. You are waving around a loaded gun in my face, and you think you're cool? That guy that passes you on the right and cuts you off in the traffic is no different than an Israeli mowing down children with his Uzi.
So don't criticize the Israelis. And don't you dare crack a smile. It's not funny.
God forgive me.
"Just you wait, I'm gonna turn all this ALPOW stuff right back on your head."
It's a side benefit.
It's the way it should be.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Drivers Are Murderers
...and should be locked up.
You are walking back to your car, it is dark. Beside you is a usually busy traffic artery, almost abandoned at this hour.
You hear a chorus of girlish screams to one side, normal for a Saturday night. One of them in particular catches your attention because of its desperation, terror, and because it is harmonizing with the squealing of rubber. You turn quickly.
It is amazing how much you can take in in a split second. You see a single car hurtling forward on the empty road. New, grey, SUV, slicing through the cold air, not a care.
Its wheels are completely still.
Locked in position, skidding forward, peeling off smoke behind them, while the car slides along ahead merrily. Then you notice that its windshield is shattered in two places. Two spider's webs of cratered glass, punctured and sparkling, as you puzzle. Jagged veins shooting out from the centers of the impressions split the darkly distorted face sitting behind the wheel into many pieces. You wonder why he is driving with a broken windshield.
Then you see the body.
It is about ten feet above the ground, hovering over the hood, camouflaged against the night sky. It is falling. It is screaming.
The blustering car pays it no attention as the body rockets downward again, crumpled, twisted like a leaf in the wind. The body bounces off the stabbing, thrusting, merciless hood, arching and snapping unnaturally. Its wrists and neck are curled as it skips along the hood like a stone across water, bruising at every collision. The bumper of the car is ramming it forward, herding it like livestock as it writhes, agonizes, contorts. The car stops with a hiccup and the body continues forward, flinging away from the bumper, hopping across the concrete. It lands almost at your feet and rolls slowly onto its stomach, its tangled hair matted across its back and neck.
It is a woman. Her mini skirt is pulled up to her stomach. There are red welts streaking across her upper legs and her shoes are absent, revealing playful white ankle socks. She is facedown into the gravel on the side of the road. You strain for life signs. What you hear is not welcome. She is whimpering faintly.
Oh, this WILL be continued...