October 8, 2008 at 11:11 pm (Life, the Universe and Everything, RL)
Tags: addictions, appearances, choices, memory, remember, thoughts
I want my poisons to be prettily packaged, please. Enticing with its smell, or it’s amazing texture that makes you want to touch. And maybe it’ll do interesting things, just so I won‘t get bored..
I wouldn’t be amenable to one that appears unattractive.
Not at the beginning, anyway.
September 16, 2008 at 8:20 am (Life, the Universe and Everything, RL)
I am looking for a garden to visit; pines or birches perhaps, overgrown undergrowth notwithstanding; full of peace. Vivid flowers dulling in the reflected sheen off the moon, but jasmines and night flowers blooming bright, enchanting and calling though a subtle strength nothing like the trap a spider lays in her fine webs, oh no. Or maybe not. In there I would seek the shadows with their inexplicable allure (A snake! A boot! A log! The ditches! — if not the army of red ants contentedly sleeping until you kick over their hill and then they would come after you like the vengeance of God Himself) and stomach tightening fear that nonetheless is more than the abyss of self-contemplation, which certainly looks right back. All like the flames of a fire licking gently up, warming you, oh so innocently promising no pain, not unlike the candles I am forbidden, but that bonfire of a calm winter night: the one you reach for to warm your hands though you know that you’ll burn your fingers through the mitts; the dancing, happy, amazing flames that one can never trust once you witness their treachery and see just how all-consuming they can be.
I want to sit under the shadow of a creaking tree under a moon, or perhaps not. Just a place I can be blessedly alone with my thoughts, where all these intrusions of technology do not measure time with their loud ticks and endless alarms, where the night breeze can chill me to being half-frozen, but not dead, oh no, for then I could see stars and feel the wind and be alive with my thoughts. Nor would I want to write down each thickened dewdrop of thought, for that refuge would be open again should I need to go back and do it all over again.
I want resolution for all this confusion and turmoil of simple questions turned complicated, or perhaps complicated situations oversimplified, and I have always found it with these elements of nature – trees and rain and clouds floating free across the face of a fat moon.
There is so much green.
Is none of it for me?
September 14, 2008 at 8:21 am (Life, the Universe and Everything, Poetry, RL)
My breath still trips just a little bit, and my heart clutches
When imperfect memories augmented by frozen moments
Show me again that boy with his wide, rare, charming grin
That bit of humour and mischief; the intensity that stayed
The direction that did not.
And I wonder if I am to remain eternally, impossibly, forever
In love
With a slender shade of the past.
September 14, 2008 at 3:00 am (Life, the Universe and Everything)
Dirty Bed, Dirty Head: it’s been drumming through my consciousness. I need a major clean up. Inside my head, and in my surroundings. she thought.
On the walls next to her window were her paintings, angry slashes of color. Peaceful colours agitated into swirls. Confusion of confusion. Vivid red of joy and pain, purples of contentment. Refreshing greens and blues to drown in. Smoke pumped from a factory she could see from outside her window, and she could hear gentle sobbing from the next room. She refused to turn away from the vista of green that spread at her feet, and clutched her mug of hot coffee harder. Not my business. Not any more.
What happened when your worldwiew spun, and morphed into something you never imagined would happen? You cut your losses, and pulled into a shell. And protected yourself until you had the courage to stick your neck out again. Inside the shell, everything is grey, and there is no color left to think in. And you begin to think that the pretty patterns on you bedsheet are better off being white. Less confusion. More peace. Maybe. It was worth trying.
July 12, 2008 at 10:20 pm (Life, the Universe and Everything)
Absolute evil (if that exists), bloodsucking creatures, with not a care. You’d imagine Dracula, perhaps. Lestat, the chap from Slayer, and most of Rice’s – thought of whom – curdle your blood.
But apart from Dracula, the first vampire to get to me was Andre LeBrel. Young looking, neat as a pin, warm, and a good guy. Bless Lackey, for since I have not been able to think of vampires as all-evil. There’s Otto Chriek, and the Black Ribboners on Discworld; no Pratchett fan can forget Carpe Jugulum. Then came Digital Knight. I believe Stephanie Meyer’s vampires abstain from human blood.
So after someone asked me a question – I’m wondering. What do you think of them?
Five words you can use to describe vampires? or which you associate with them?
