Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Woah!
Friday, July 27, 2007
^
Smoking: Zanzibar Classics (with my cousin Courtney; she smokes USA Gold Lights?)
Reading: Ghost Hunters Scariest Cases (or something like that; you get the idea)
You've been reading too much, you overpoetic book-whore. <3
No matter how slow, the outpost still sends off its supplies, even to clumsy soldiers who forget to manage their camp and themselves. The outpost becomes meager with nothing to send to the outside world, nothing to exchange; nothing to prove that there are, indeed, soldiers waiting for supplies. But the letters come. The signs of life arise and the outpost is once again sure that there is, indeed, someone responding to its packages. The outpost sends as much as it can, all wrapped in brown paper and tired twine.
Luckily, even without letters and messages, the outpost knows that those soldiers will survive. They aren't dumb enough to perish.
Is the love obvious? It should be. Do I pester too much? I hope not. Are my messages too desperate? Let us pray they are not.
Hotel morning coffee pisses me off. The cups are like a joke. It's as if they want to top off your night of sleeping ON a rock, instead of LIKE one, by giving you the most meager wake-up call possible. A teaspoon of rotten, badly-brewed sludge topped with non-dairy, non-liquid creamer and sugar that gives you a caffeine buzz equivalent to that of the Queen Mother on her first cuppa; that is to say, NOT.
This morning's coffee was exquisite, however, despite it being the hotel variety. It was very nouveau, coming from a machine, programmed to your taste by various buttons. Very European. Very innovative. The scent of chocolate invades the nose, but the taste is not neurotically sweet; it tastes like what I ordered: coffee; cafe mocha; strong; 100%. Delicious. (The bagel was sub-par, I hate to report.)
Family swarms and my mind is addled. I feel more clever without competition. I'm talkative and vicious, just as you taught me, but I am less afraid to speak; I am less afraid to be corrected, haha. I see those that I have missed for months, but I miss another anew; the days feel like months. When will I ever see you again? Is it really only two weeks? I sound like a love-sick shitty-romance-author. :P (Oh wait, I -am-. Lame.)
See the rest...
Reading: Ghost Hunters Scariest Cases (or something like that; you get the idea)
You've been reading too much, you overpoetic book-whore. <3
No matter how slow, the outpost still sends off its supplies, even to clumsy soldiers who forget to manage their camp and themselves. The outpost becomes meager with nothing to send to the outside world, nothing to exchange; nothing to prove that there are, indeed, soldiers waiting for supplies. But the letters come. The signs of life arise and the outpost is once again sure that there is, indeed, someone responding to its packages. The outpost sends as much as it can, all wrapped in brown paper and tired twine.
Luckily, even without letters and messages, the outpost knows that those soldiers will survive. They aren't dumb enough to perish.
Is the love obvious? It should be. Do I pester too much? I hope not. Are my messages too desperate? Let us pray they are not.
Hotel morning coffee pisses me off. The cups are like a joke. It's as if they want to top off your night of sleeping ON a rock, instead of LIKE one, by giving you the most meager wake-up call possible. A teaspoon of rotten, badly-brewed sludge topped with non-dairy, non-liquid creamer and sugar that gives you a caffeine buzz equivalent to that of the Queen Mother on her first cuppa; that is to say, NOT.
This morning's coffee was exquisite, however, despite it being the hotel variety. It was very nouveau, coming from a machine, programmed to your taste by various buttons. Very European. Very innovative. The scent of chocolate invades the nose, but the taste is not neurotically sweet; it tastes like what I ordered: coffee; cafe mocha; strong; 100%. Delicious. (The bagel was sub-par, I hate to report.)
Family swarms and my mind is addled. I feel more clever without competition. I'm talkative and vicious, just as you taught me, but I am less afraid to speak; I am less afraid to be corrected, haha. I see those that I have missed for months, but I miss another anew; the days feel like months. When will I ever see you again? Is it really only two weeks? I sound like a love-sick shitty-romance-author. :P (Oh wait, I -am-. Lame.)
See the rest...
Barracks
Smoking:Marlbro Smooth
Reading:House of Leaves
I told Tyler today, while wondering through the grocery store picking up some chocolate milk and donuts that you are not my refuge. You can't be. Not anymore, that's saying too little. That's making overrated phrases and whoring them to a situation that is not what it is. My heart aches and trembles while in the real world. My mind ticks and my face tics and my heart pumps nothing. My shoelaces come untied and my hair becomes tangled. In the real world I am a mess, barraged on all sides from the bureaucracy of an office job and the bullshit of a lazy workforce. I sign papers and contemplate making up names. I contemplate making up names to my customers. No, you are not my refuge.
You are my outpost.
My eyes are heavy and my fingers are weak. My fingernails long and my teeth go unbrushed, like my hair. My sentences are broken and my English isn't that good anymore. I can't formulate anything. I can't even formulate reasons to get up. But I do anyway, fear is formulation enough. Fear from having no money, from falling away from the greed. I am a long ways from my outpost, now. My supplies are already starting to run thin. I have forgotten how to ration. It's easy to forget when the supplies are usually limitless, too much sometimes. They pile up and forcibly assert their needs as to be sorted through and filed away in easy to find locations. I only ration when there is too much, and only when I need to ration what I have I realize I am totally dependent.
I told Tyler tonight I would either come to the realization that I could function independently again, or I'd kill myself.
He laughed at the extremes.
I didn't.
I join my banjo in the ranks of the busted-up. I enlist all my best men to help me through the day, but the medic has taken leave and the fire we're taking from opposing armies is too much to handle. Numerous troops become a handful. I rattle on my snare and boost morale, trumpeting my praises to myself hoping to convince myself of my freedom. But no. The sun sets and we didn't check to see if the enemy was outside the campsite before pitching tent.
If worse comes to worst, I'll be like the cats and shit in the floor. I'll be found lying on my back in the sun babbling on about my state of euphoria with cigarette burns on my arm and moss creeping its way up my back. And I'll sleep.
And I'll dream.
And I'll win again.
end transmission
See the rest...
Reading:House of Leaves
I told Tyler today, while wondering through the grocery store picking up some chocolate milk and donuts that you are not my refuge. You can't be. Not anymore, that's saying too little. That's making overrated phrases and whoring them to a situation that is not what it is. My heart aches and trembles while in the real world. My mind ticks and my face tics and my heart pumps nothing. My shoelaces come untied and my hair becomes tangled. In the real world I am a mess, barraged on all sides from the bureaucracy of an office job and the bullshit of a lazy workforce. I sign papers and contemplate making up names. I contemplate making up names to my customers. No, you are not my refuge.
You are my outpost.
My eyes are heavy and my fingers are weak. My fingernails long and my teeth go unbrushed, like my hair. My sentences are broken and my English isn't that good anymore. I can't formulate anything. I can't even formulate reasons to get up. But I do anyway, fear is formulation enough. Fear from having no money, from falling away from the greed. I am a long ways from my outpost, now. My supplies are already starting to run thin. I have forgotten how to ration. It's easy to forget when the supplies are usually limitless, too much sometimes. They pile up and forcibly assert their needs as to be sorted through and filed away in easy to find locations. I only ration when there is too much, and only when I need to ration what I have I realize I am totally dependent.
I told Tyler tonight I would either come to the realization that I could function independently again, or I'd kill myself.
He laughed at the extremes.
I didn't.
I join my banjo in the ranks of the busted-up. I enlist all my best men to help me through the day, but the medic has taken leave and the fire we're taking from opposing armies is too much to handle. Numerous troops become a handful. I rattle on my snare and boost morale, trumpeting my praises to myself hoping to convince myself of my freedom. But no. The sun sets and we didn't check to see if the enemy was outside the campsite before pitching tent.
If worse comes to worst, I'll be like the cats and shit in the floor. I'll be found lying on my back in the sun babbling on about my state of euphoria with cigarette burns on my arm and moss creeping its way up my back. And I'll sleep.
And I'll dream.
And I'll win again.
end transmission
See the rest...
Thursday, July 26, 2007
%
Smoking: not.
Reading: … Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (stfu, I am NOT on the bandwagon)
As I crawled into bed with Codie, who was fast asleep, my chest felt tight and I felt as if I were leaving for more than two weeks. It’s so ridiculous how much I felt as if I were losing him as he gripped him tightly. He snored at me as I almost-sobbed for several minutes, and then I kissed his temple and went back to my computers to finish whatever the hell I was doing.
I had to poke him again and again to get him up, and when he finally rose, he was sleepy and not all too pleased at being poked to wake up for several minutes. Hugging him once he was fully conscious, my throat tightened and I teared up, nearly bawling as he wandered back through my bathroom…
The actual good-bye was lingering, but tear-free. I knew both of us were on the brink of it, but we never seem to really cry in front of each other. For myself, I’m not sure if it’s a feeling of happiness that I associate with him, or a lack of courage or selflessness to let myself go like that… I’ve only cried in front of him once, and he in front of me, and we weren’t even facing each other at the time, so I don’t count that. :P We kept going back, kissing again, squeezing each other tightly… I thought we’d never let each other go.
It’s amazing; no matter how much I LOVE going to the beach, I really had thoughts of just… not going. Just staying with Codie. How marvelous would that be? Two weeks, the two of us, and my house. Alone. (Aside from Sam, pfft.)
In any case, I’m on the road, and the internet here sucks. We’re in a shoddy little Ramada, I assume (judging by the soap label), that under ‘major renovations’ which means… we have two microwaves and no toilet-paper holder. >_> STRANGE. Final stopping point for tonight: Shreveport, Louisiana.
We ate at the restaurant of my childhood this afternoon, Mario’s, which is in Dallas. I had all my old dishes, including one of their marvelous strawberry daiquiris, and it was EXACTLY how I remember. Not a thing had changed (except for the location), and I was in absolute bliss. I grinned the whole meal, and my mother kept laughing at me. We had Kailua pie for dessert and all was well. (And I greedily grabbed two handfuls of chocolate mints on the way out, making everyone in our party laugh.)
Trying to get Sims to run on my laptop (my new/renewed obsession), and ended up having to repurchase an expansion I already had, yadda yadda yadda, had problems with EPs at home, had to troubleshoot Codie over the phone (hey! Maybe I have a future in cable customer service over the phone, too!), and I think it’s working now! I need to, unfortunately, uninstall the EP I tried to hard to keep on my laptop off my laptop, but at least it will run? God, I hope.
Keeping myself busy, dreaming of sun and sand and cousins of my favorite kind. Trying not to kill myself missing my Roman. Miss you.
See the rest...
Reading: … Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (stfu, I am NOT on the bandwagon)
As I crawled into bed with Codie, who was fast asleep, my chest felt tight and I felt as if I were leaving for more than two weeks. It’s so ridiculous how much I felt as if I were losing him as he gripped him tightly. He snored at me as I almost-sobbed for several minutes, and then I kissed his temple and went back to my computers to finish whatever the hell I was doing.
I had to poke him again and again to get him up, and when he finally rose, he was sleepy and not all too pleased at being poked to wake up for several minutes. Hugging him once he was fully conscious, my throat tightened and I teared up, nearly bawling as he wandered back through my bathroom…
The actual good-bye was lingering, but tear-free. I knew both of us were on the brink of it, but we never seem to really cry in front of each other. For myself, I’m not sure if it’s a feeling of happiness that I associate with him, or a lack of courage or selflessness to let myself go like that… I’ve only cried in front of him once, and he in front of me, and we weren’t even facing each other at the time, so I don’t count that. :P We kept going back, kissing again, squeezing each other tightly… I thought we’d never let each other go.
It’s amazing; no matter how much I LOVE going to the beach, I really had thoughts of just… not going. Just staying with Codie. How marvelous would that be? Two weeks, the two of us, and my house. Alone. (Aside from Sam, pfft.)
In any case, I’m on the road, and the internet here sucks. We’re in a shoddy little Ramada, I assume (judging by the soap label), that under ‘major renovations’ which means… we have two microwaves and no toilet-paper holder. >_> STRANGE. Final stopping point for tonight: Shreveport, Louisiana.
We ate at the restaurant of my childhood this afternoon, Mario’s, which is in Dallas. I had all my old dishes, including one of their marvelous strawberry daiquiris, and it was EXACTLY how I remember. Not a thing had changed (except for the location), and I was in absolute bliss. I grinned the whole meal, and my mother kept laughing at me. We had Kailua pie for dessert and all was well. (And I greedily grabbed two handfuls of chocolate mints on the way out, making everyone in our party laugh.)
Trying to get Sims to run on my laptop (my new/renewed obsession), and ended up having to repurchase an expansion I already had, yadda yadda yadda, had problems with EPs at home, had to troubleshoot Codie over the phone (hey! Maybe I have a future in cable customer service over the phone, too!), and I think it’s working now! I need to, unfortunately, uninstall the EP I tried to hard to keep on my laptop off my laptop, but at least it will run? God, I hope.
Keeping myself busy, dreaming of sun and sand and cousins of my favorite kind. Trying not to kill myself missing my Roman. Miss you.
See the rest...
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Super are Us
Smoking:Newport
Reading:First it was The Cat Inside, then Slaughterhouse Five, then Queer, now it's House of Leaves
Kate left today for sandy toes and tanned skin. For naps in the sun and glares on the pages of her paperback. For eastern waters with southern accents. High noon naps ease the relaxation process, I'm sure. Adventures with family and messages from a lover. Today I watched the car drive off the lot and teared up a little. An overwhelming sense of loss filled me and I was and am still not sure why for one like me who thrives on his thoughts and his notebooks filled with notes of work of both motifs of business and pacing around cubicles would feel the crushing blow of defeat at the chance to be alone with his thoughts and his literature. "C'est la vie," I say, "Your needs are not unfounded."
I've been plagued with sensitivity lately. A certain uneasiness comes along when you know that you'll cry when you kill a moth nowadays; imagine the terror of missing someone you love. It's driven me to my ranty, pissy, not-nice-to-be-around attitudes which I've laced with nicotine and insomnia. "What a bitch this is!" I say as I down my medication, or at least contemplate taking a couple. It does treat mood swings, by the way. Kate'd tell me to get some sleep and stop being so unhappy. Your advice is not unfounded.
I listened to my gypsy-punk and imagined you humming to the melody again.
I cease to feel restless when I'm with you. I cease the urge to take off and never be heard from again. I cease the daytime. I resume the nighttime. I'm sure that I won't mind staying my full shift at work now. Paycheck will be decent. I should pick up some overtime. I need the money, and the need, yes, not unfounded.
We'll go far, you and I. We've got it all planned out, and it's not hard to make a buck or two in this town, hopefully the same holds true for the rest of the country. The work gets hard but the dollars keep my sanity intact. It was a sad day when I realized the importance of money. The greed that came along with it, and the selfishness I would exude when given the opportunity to earn an extra buck here and there. What if my feedback ridden guitar got me far? What if my aleatorhic piano playing paid my car insurance? What if my electronic forays got me into college? That would be a dream! That is one, in fact, which is why I don't cease to strum the banjo or hum my melodies. My dreams are not unfounded.
Really, though, it doesn't matter what I do. It doesn't matter at all. Because I'll have help. And if I want to pick up an leave? I'm free to do it. And the freedom keeps me in place. I don't know if you meant to do that, but you did. We're amazing.
end transmission
See the rest...
Reading:First it was The Cat Inside, then Slaughterhouse Five, then Queer, now it's House of Leaves
Kate left today for sandy toes and tanned skin. For naps in the sun and glares on the pages of her paperback. For eastern waters with southern accents. High noon naps ease the relaxation process, I'm sure. Adventures with family and messages from a lover. Today I watched the car drive off the lot and teared up a little. An overwhelming sense of loss filled me and I was and am still not sure why for one like me who thrives on his thoughts and his notebooks filled with notes of work of both motifs of business and pacing around cubicles would feel the crushing blow of defeat at the chance to be alone with his thoughts and his literature. "C'est la vie," I say, "Your needs are not unfounded."
I've been plagued with sensitivity lately. A certain uneasiness comes along when you know that you'll cry when you kill a moth nowadays; imagine the terror of missing someone you love. It's driven me to my ranty, pissy, not-nice-to-be-around attitudes which I've laced with nicotine and insomnia. "What a bitch this is!" I say as I down my medication, or at least contemplate taking a couple. It does treat mood swings, by the way. Kate'd tell me to get some sleep and stop being so unhappy. Your advice is not unfounded.
I listened to my gypsy-punk and imagined you humming to the melody again.
I cease to feel restless when I'm with you. I cease the urge to take off and never be heard from again. I cease the daytime. I resume the nighttime. I'm sure that I won't mind staying my full shift at work now. Paycheck will be decent. I should pick up some overtime. I need the money, and the need, yes, not unfounded.
We'll go far, you and I. We've got it all planned out, and it's not hard to make a buck or two in this town, hopefully the same holds true for the rest of the country. The work gets hard but the dollars keep my sanity intact. It was a sad day when I realized the importance of money. The greed that came along with it, and the selfishness I would exude when given the opportunity to earn an extra buck here and there. What if my feedback ridden guitar got me far? What if my aleatorhic piano playing paid my car insurance? What if my electronic forays got me into college? That would be a dream! That is one, in fact, which is why I don't cease to strum the banjo or hum my melodies. My dreams are not unfounded.
Really, though, it doesn't matter what I do. It doesn't matter at all. Because I'll have help. And if I want to pick up an leave? I'm free to do it. And the freedom keeps me in place. I don't know if you meant to do that, but you did. We're amazing.
end transmission
See the rest...
Saturday, July 14, 2007
?
Smoking: Camel #9s
Cats are fickle creatures.
Cats change abruptly, depending on who is around them. A cat you have lived with for a long time may be very company-shy, and just when you want to show him off and show how friendly he is, you won't be able to find him. However, when you praise a cat's loyalty, he is sure to rub against those strangers entering his space. You will tell your friends how sweet he is, and as you reach down to pet him, he will respond with extended claws and a hiss for your insolence. He will change at the drop of a hat, and that special little kitty you used to hole up with on your lonesome will suddenly be your guests' new best friend. Your friendly cat may suddenly show claws when you displease him, suddenly becoming nasty and bad-tempered because you do something he dislikes. But, come later in the day, he will still come by, rub your ankle, and insist upon being stroked, as if he never left that nasty scratch on your wrist.
Cats are creatures of habit and comfort. When displaced, they find someplace to hide--somewhere to come to terms with their new surroundings. All cats do this. When confused, they find something that reminds them of their previous surroundings and find comfort in that. Cats are very human, when it all comes down to it. So very, very human. They know their creature comforts, and when their new surroundings provide them with that, they are comfortable once more. Perhaps this, too, could be home?
Cats are adaptable, just like people. And even though you may hate the way he lays on your friends and purrs as if this stranger is the one who feeds him morning, noon, and night, you still love the way he dominates your lap and will not allow you to continue reading or typing. You still adore him when he comes from his hiding place that had kept your friends from seeing him. You still love the way he rubs against your hand, complaining softly for attention.
How could you not love your cat? How could you not adore the soft mewl, that little nudge, that twitching tail and ruffling fur?
How could you not love your cat?
See the rest...
Cats are fickle creatures.
Cats change abruptly, depending on who is around them. A cat you have lived with for a long time may be very company-shy, and just when you want to show him off and show how friendly he is, you won't be able to find him. However, when you praise a cat's loyalty, he is sure to rub against those strangers entering his space. You will tell your friends how sweet he is, and as you reach down to pet him, he will respond with extended claws and a hiss for your insolence. He will change at the drop of a hat, and that special little kitty you used to hole up with on your lonesome will suddenly be your guests' new best friend. Your friendly cat may suddenly show claws when you displease him, suddenly becoming nasty and bad-tempered because you do something he dislikes. But, come later in the day, he will still come by, rub your ankle, and insist upon being stroked, as if he never left that nasty scratch on your wrist.
Cats are creatures of habit and comfort. When displaced, they find someplace to hide--somewhere to come to terms with their new surroundings. All cats do this. When confused, they find something that reminds them of their previous surroundings and find comfort in that. Cats are very human, when it all comes down to it. So very, very human. They know their creature comforts, and when their new surroundings provide them with that, they are comfortable once more. Perhaps this, too, could be home?
Cats are adaptable, just like people. And even though you may hate the way he lays on your friends and purrs as if this stranger is the one who feeds him morning, noon, and night, you still love the way he dominates your lap and will not allow you to continue reading or typing. You still adore him when he comes from his hiding place that had kept your friends from seeing him. You still love the way he rubs against your hand, complaining softly for attention.
How could you not love your cat? How could you not adore the soft mewl, that little nudge, that twitching tail and ruffling fur?
How could you not love your cat?
See the rest...
Friday, July 13, 2007
!
CUPCAAAAKES~ :D How very newlywed of us.
Pot-luck at Codie's workplace tomorrow was catalyst for the inevitable: cupcakes.
See the doom:
Hopefully, they are delicious. :D
See the rest...
Pot-luck at Codie's workplace tomorrow was catalyst for the inevitable: cupcakes.
See the doom:
Hopefully, they are delicious. :D
See the rest...
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
<
Smoking: Camel #9s
Reading: Good Omens
Picture dump! From downtown Lubbock on a particular day we were down there. (Looking for nice clothes for Codie, perhaps?)
See more of our ridiculous downtown!
See the rest...
Reading: Good Omens
Picture dump! From downtown Lubbock on a particular day we were down there. (Looking for nice clothes for Codie, perhaps?)
See more of our ridiculous downtown!
See the rest...
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
What is this mania that plagues the workforce?
Smoking: Not enough (Camel Menthol Wides)
Reading: work related documents
In the absence of proper glucose levels, certain activities produce necessary effects required for proper relaxation. Now, this can be a problem when I forget where the Newports are and have to rely on my backup pack of cigarettes, which tends to diminish quickly. So, in the absence of proper tools necessary for relaxation, stress tends to increase with the idea of little funds. In fact, I spent my last bit of stolen money today. But I'll pay you back, somehow.
The thought occurs that I could do without on my final break, but that would be ridiculous. I save the last one, pack up my things, and head back and try and repopulate my brain with ideas of venturing once more into the literary realm. Forays into what can be considered tripe for some, but relaxing for me. I end up typing out what I can, thinking about the keystrokes. What if there's a key tracker? I watch what I say, not that I would have anything to say negatively anyway, I like my job. Pack up your belongings, people, it's time to resume troubleshooting.
Every one's antsy and bored. Every one's clueless but confident. There is talk of transactions and meet-ups and things that could get you fired if it were in writing, or earshot of someone that cared for that matter. I put on my aviators and stare forward and forget what I'm looking at I listen intently to the sounds and people around me. When I do resume eyesight, I notice the facial expressions, the mannerisms, etc. of the people I work with. We have a diverse bunch here. Interesting, to say the least.
Conversational grammar is abandoned on the glass monitors, so people seek out other people in order to talk in a more relaxed state. The common vernacular heard around here is embarrassing. Whatever.
The thought has been lost.
Point is, I'm super stressed out and for no reason. Everyone go away. 'Cept Kate.
Blah.
end transmission
See the rest...
Reading: work related documents
In the absence of proper glucose levels, certain activities produce necessary effects required for proper relaxation. Now, this can be a problem when I forget where the Newports are and have to rely on my backup pack of cigarettes, which tends to diminish quickly. So, in the absence of proper tools necessary for relaxation, stress tends to increase with the idea of little funds. In fact, I spent my last bit of stolen money today. But I'll pay you back, somehow.
The thought occurs that I could do without on my final break, but that would be ridiculous. I save the last one, pack up my things, and head back and try and repopulate my brain with ideas of venturing once more into the literary realm. Forays into what can be considered tripe for some, but relaxing for me. I end up typing out what I can, thinking about the keystrokes. What if there's a key tracker? I watch what I say, not that I would have anything to say negatively anyway, I like my job. Pack up your belongings, people, it's time to resume troubleshooting.
Every one's antsy and bored. Every one's clueless but confident. There is talk of transactions and meet-ups and things that could get you fired if it were in writing, or earshot of someone that cared for that matter. I put on my aviators and stare forward and forget what I'm looking at I listen intently to the sounds and people around me. When I do resume eyesight, I notice the facial expressions, the mannerisms, etc. of the people I work with. We have a diverse bunch here. Interesting, to say the least.
Conversational grammar is abandoned on the glass monitors, so people seek out other people in order to talk in a more relaxed state. The common vernacular heard around here is embarrassing. Whatever.
The thought has been lost.
Point is, I'm super stressed out and for no reason. Everyone go away. 'Cept Kate.
Blah.
end transmission
See the rest...
Paycheck to paycheck...
smoking: enough to make my stomach hurt
listening to: Boredom's Super ae album
Ultimately, one comes to terms with starvation. Money becomes short, and you'd rather have a pillow to sleep on than food in your stomach at all times. Luckily, I have a wonderful girlfriend who takes care of me. She'll feed me if I take care of my bills. Hell, she'd feed me even if I didn't. And she'd probably help me with my bills if I let her.
A few months ago I had just ended a pretty serious relationship. Well, it was serious at parts... but by the end it was kind of a joke (for me atleast). I had run away from home, and after staying with my previous girlfriend's family, I decided I needed out. I was feeling suffocated and obligated, and I just needed to start my life. So I did, rented a room with some friends in an old farm house, got a job at Burger King, and after a while got into the groove of things and started living. I finished up High School and immediatly moved to Lubbock. Better jobs, closer to my girlfriend, things of that nature. I had saved a little money to put a deposit on an apartment and after a while I got a job at a call-center, I am now; which leaves me here.
During my stint in the farm house, I had little money. I was barely scraping by in terms of rent, and I did a lot of bumming food from people. I ended up losing 30 pounds in a period of three months. I had been entering all sorts of manic moods, and my OCD and TS were at their worst (those aren't much better, now); so I didn't really care to eat anyway. If you have no appetite, you don't really care if you don't eat anything for weeks at a time. I was getting little sleep, and barely passing my classes. I do not recommend running away while you're still in school-- it's hard as fuck to keep up grades and a living situation under control.
But I did it, barely (the day before graduation I was still failing government-- thank god for understand teachers), and things got a little easier. The summer is here, and I have no plans for college as of yet. If I had things my way, I would stay with Kate and follow her to wherever she wanted to go to school. I'd probably work and get some sort of general degree-- Business or English or something, and continue to work taking small amounts of music courses on the sides until she got out of work and our financial status was secure and I could start schooling more for what I want to. Sounds a little stressful, and it is at times, but just the fact that I got out of a bad situation and have made it this far without failing too much has to say something.
I'm stranded, though, in this feeling of transition. It seems like I'm always stuck here. I've come to realize that there is no time of transition-- and if there is it lasts a couple of days at the most. What I'm stuck in is living life. And it drives me crazy. I am starting to feel like I used to, say, six months ago. Not to say that I don't love Kate and I'm not comfertable with her, because I really am. It's just how I get. I know she knows I love her.
I'm going to try and post a couple of times a week, at least. I did all of it but this last part at work, so we may see where that takes the blog, having something to write during work and all.
Sorry I'm bad at talking about things in person sometimes.
Love you, Kate.
end transmission
See the rest...
listening to: Boredom's Super ae album
Ultimately, one comes to terms with starvation. Money becomes short, and you'd rather have a pillow to sleep on than food in your stomach at all times. Luckily, I have a wonderful girlfriend who takes care of me. She'll feed me if I take care of my bills. Hell, she'd feed me even if I didn't. And she'd probably help me with my bills if I let her.
A few months ago I had just ended a pretty serious relationship. Well, it was serious at parts... but by the end it was kind of a joke (for me atleast). I had run away from home, and after staying with my previous girlfriend's family, I decided I needed out. I was feeling suffocated and obligated, and I just needed to start my life. So I did, rented a room with some friends in an old farm house, got a job at Burger King, and after a while got into the groove of things and started living. I finished up High School and immediatly moved to Lubbock. Better jobs, closer to my girlfriend, things of that nature. I had saved a little money to put a deposit on an apartment and after a while I got a job at a call-center, I am now; which leaves me here.
During my stint in the farm house, I had little money. I was barely scraping by in terms of rent, and I did a lot of bumming food from people. I ended up losing 30 pounds in a period of three months. I had been entering all sorts of manic moods, and my OCD and TS were at their worst (those aren't much better, now); so I didn't really care to eat anyway. If you have no appetite, you don't really care if you don't eat anything for weeks at a time. I was getting little sleep, and barely passing my classes. I do not recommend running away while you're still in school-- it's hard as fuck to keep up grades and a living situation under control.
But I did it, barely (the day before graduation I was still failing government-- thank god for understand teachers), and things got a little easier. The summer is here, and I have no plans for college as of yet. If I had things my way, I would stay with Kate and follow her to wherever she wanted to go to school. I'd probably work and get some sort of general degree-- Business or English or something, and continue to work taking small amounts of music courses on the sides until she got out of work and our financial status was secure and I could start schooling more for what I want to. Sounds a little stressful, and it is at times, but just the fact that I got out of a bad situation and have made it this far without failing too much has to say something.
I'm stranded, though, in this feeling of transition. It seems like I'm always stuck here. I've come to realize that there is no time of transition-- and if there is it lasts a couple of days at the most. What I'm stuck in is living life. And it drives me crazy. I am starting to feel like I used to, say, six months ago. Not to say that I don't love Kate and I'm not comfertable with her, because I really am. It's just how I get. I know she knows I love her.
I'm going to try and post a couple of times a week, at least. I did all of it but this last part at work, so we may see where that takes the blog, having something to write during work and all.
Sorry I'm bad at talking about things in person sometimes.
Love you, Kate.
end transmission
See the rest...
"
Smoking: Camel #9s, couple Zanzis, one Black
Reading: Good Omens
There is something infinitely serene, I notice, about blogging. Some kind of finality, and the promise that someone will read what I've written (the advantage of having a co-authored blog). It's relaxing and amusing; more so than it would be if I did not think anyone would read my thoughts. (Perhaps I have a bit of a reverse-voyeur fetish?)
I have a true problem. Pride. But I'm learning to overcome it--to notice it, as I do most of my "flaws"--and I'm learning to look past it. I still have my sorry habit of going from self-righteous to guilty, but perhaps I shall be able to overcome that, as well. After all, once you notice a problem, there's only one way to go with it: solving it.
I thought about this in more depth while I was hanging out with one of my friends that I haven't seen in a long time, but who I've talked to more recently on the internet. Seeing Relic again was really exciting and pleasing. She really is such a wonderful person. I missed her. And being around other abrasive people, I've learned to appreciate some of her abrasive humor and return it with some of my own. (Hopefully not too abrasively.)
Relic knows some of the intimate details of my long relationship with Willow, and talking to her about how my pride affected that, and our--Relic and my--relationship, was really sort of liberating. I like the open, un-pent-up person I've become. I like talking to Relic in real life, as opposed to the internet, about things that are going through my head. I like opening up to her. I like hearing her open up. She's the sort of person that I can bitch with about certain things. (Like goddamn Bright Eyes. Rot and die, Conner Oberst.)
Tonight was a long night. Today was a long day. Spending a weekend with Codie around me all the time again made it all the harder for him to go to work today. But, I suppose, surrounding myself with friends today was a better decision of action than holing up in the house was. Coffee is always nice. Huge caravans of strangers are always fun. Old friends are always comforting.
Six days and counting. Goddamn the Navy. >_> Taking away one of my best friends. Gonna miss that motherfucker and I'm going to make sure he knows it before he goes.
You know, my biggest problem with journals of any sort, is the lack of defined audience. I don't particularly like preaching to myself, and I don't enjoy feeling as though I have to explain all the details of the people I mention. My memory is terrible, but I hope that if I look back on these journals, the details I slip in will help me remember things. No need to go into detail. But, nevertheless, who the fuck am I writing to? Myself in three months? Codie? Other bloggers? Random readers?
If that's the case, I apologize to all you sad motherfuckers who have to sift through this boring shit. :P Perhaps I should write you stories, O Imaginary Readers of KateplusCodie.
(P.S. Whoever you are, I love you. Keep reading my blog.)
See the rest...
Reading: Good Omens
There is something infinitely serene, I notice, about blogging. Some kind of finality, and the promise that someone will read what I've written (the advantage of having a co-authored blog). It's relaxing and amusing; more so than it would be if I did not think anyone would read my thoughts. (Perhaps I have a bit of a reverse-voyeur fetish?)
I have a true problem. Pride. But I'm learning to overcome it--to notice it, as I do most of my "flaws"--and I'm learning to look past it. I still have my sorry habit of going from self-righteous to guilty, but perhaps I shall be able to overcome that, as well. After all, once you notice a problem, there's only one way to go with it: solving it.
I thought about this in more depth while I was hanging out with one of my friends that I haven't seen in a long time, but who I've talked to more recently on the internet. Seeing Relic again was really exciting and pleasing. She really is such a wonderful person. I missed her. And being around other abrasive people, I've learned to appreciate some of her abrasive humor and return it with some of my own. (Hopefully not too abrasively.)
Relic knows some of the intimate details of my long relationship with Willow, and talking to her about how my pride affected that, and our--Relic and my--relationship, was really sort of liberating. I like the open, un-pent-up person I've become. I like talking to Relic in real life, as opposed to the internet, about things that are going through my head. I like opening up to her. I like hearing her open up. She's the sort of person that I can bitch with about certain things. (Like goddamn Bright Eyes. Rot and die, Conner Oberst.)
Tonight was a long night. Today was a long day. Spending a weekend with Codie around me all the time again made it all the harder for him to go to work today. But, I suppose, surrounding myself with friends today was a better decision of action than holing up in the house was. Coffee is always nice. Huge caravans of strangers are always fun. Old friends are always comforting.
Six days and counting. Goddamn the Navy. >_> Taking away one of my best friends. Gonna miss that motherfucker and I'm going to make sure he knows it before he goes.
You know, my biggest problem with journals of any sort, is the lack of defined audience. I don't particularly like preaching to myself, and I don't enjoy feeling as though I have to explain all the details of the people I mention. My memory is terrible, but I hope that if I look back on these journals, the details I slip in will help me remember things. No need to go into detail. But, nevertheless, who the fuck am I writing to? Myself in three months? Codie? Other bloggers? Random readers?
If that's the case, I apologize to all you sad motherfuckers who have to sift through this boring shit. :P Perhaps I should write you stories, O Imaginary Readers of KateplusCodie.
(P.S. Whoever you are, I love you. Keep reading my blog.)
See the rest...
Monday, July 9, 2007
/
Smoking: Camel #9s
Reading: blogs
I play with dolls.
So sue me.
I didn't want to muck up this page with a bunch of doll shenanigans, so I made a new blog. Plus, my great friend, Blade-meister has transferred here in the process of fleeing her previous Hammerspace of residence. I think she'll like it here. :D
The darling boyfriend and I went to the drive-in tonight. Saw Transformers and Evan Almighty.
We were late coming in for Transformers, but we still got to see all the kick-assery necessary to say that it was a damn good movie. The action was a bit quick, but goddamn it was awesome!! The transformations were really smooth and badass--how much better does it get than mid-air transformations back and forth?? seriously--and the fights were very intense. The dialogue between the 'bots was really amusing, especially in simple, passing conversation. I have to say, I absolutely love when I get to see serious characters, such as Optimus Prime, have casual back-and-forth with his teammates.
Evan Almighty, on the other hand, was a pretty damn crappy movie. It was so damn -Christian-. Don't get me wrong, Christianity is all good on the inside, but this movie was just a bit too much for me. Especially the fact that a primarily non-religious man suddenly became all-believing, simply because God made his life slightly difficult. It really irks me, now that I think about it, that Evan so instantly became this 'Noah' figure. It's just silly. :P
Cute, inspiring (I guess?), and family-oriented. Not my kind of movie, dammit. >_> Give me more Transformers!
*Transforms into a Honda Element and drives off into the distance*
See the rest...
Reading: blogs
I play with dolls.
So sue me.
I didn't want to muck up this page with a bunch of doll shenanigans, so I made a new blog. Plus, my great friend, Blade-meister has transferred here in the process of fleeing her previous Hammerspace of residence. I think she'll like it here. :D
The darling boyfriend and I went to the drive-in tonight. Saw Transformers and Evan Almighty.
We were late coming in for Transformers, but we still got to see all the kick-assery necessary to say that it was a damn good movie. The action was a bit quick, but goddamn it was awesome!! The transformations were really smooth and badass--how much better does it get than mid-air transformations back and forth?? seriously--and the fights were very intense. The dialogue between the 'bots was really amusing, especially in simple, passing conversation. I have to say, I absolutely love when I get to see serious characters, such as Optimus Prime, have casual back-and-forth with his teammates.
Evan Almighty, on the other hand, was a pretty damn crappy movie. It was so damn -Christian-. Don't get me wrong, Christianity is all good on the inside, but this movie was just a bit too much for me. Especially the fact that a primarily non-religious man suddenly became all-believing, simply because God made his life slightly difficult. It really irks me, now that I think about it, that Evan so instantly became this 'Noah' figure. It's just silly. :P
Cute, inspiring (I guess?), and family-oriented. Not my kind of movie, dammit. >_> Give me more Transformers!
*Transforms into a Honda Element and drives off into the distance*
See the rest...
Saturday, July 7, 2007
.
Smoking: (or trying to) Zanzibar Lights/Xtremes
Reading: Good Omens
For the record, periods suck.
A lot.
I failed to realize how taxing work would be for not only Codie, but me as well. I don't have a job (a point of mention and annoyance when I speak to my parents, usually), but with Codie now gone nine hours out of the day, I end up feeling useless and lonely and typically don't get anything done that I wanted to and just sleep; or not sleep and end up tired by the time Codie gets home (which is convenient, because he is usually tired by the time he gets home and will just crawl in bed with me).
My sleep schedule is completely fucked. I go to sleep at five in the morning, I go to sleep at six at night, I wake up at six PM, I roll over and can't get back to sleep at two AM. I worry about a lot more things with someone else in my life (or perhaps it's just paranoia attached to other things?). I've always been able to worry my brain enough about something that I will wake up every few hours so I don't miss whatever time I was supposed to be up, but now it's just fucking ridiculous. I wake up at the most annoying hours and wonder if I should wake Codie up, usually because he's mentioned he needs to be up, or we wanted to do something... I haven't slept solidly through a night in... way too long. I need to relax.
Speaking of relaxing: being on my period makes me CRAVE cigarettes like nothing else, right? But it also makes me NAUSEOUS to smoke them! Grr! What the hell is that, Mother Nature?! Eat shit and die. ;_;
On other subjects... Fourth of July sucked. Went to Fourth on Broadway, the local parade, and it was the shittiest thing ever. Ran into a friend I owed cigarettes to. Delivered them. Missed the fireworks (was sleeping aslkdfnlsdfkn; even woke up at a reasonable hour, knowing I didn't want to miss them, and considered waking Codie up...), STILL haven't ever blown off my own fireworks... But, eh. Things have been hectic. Codie started work on the second, by the fourth we were just getting used to it, sleep needed to be had, yadda yaddda yadda, we'd promised to meet someone on Broadway in the morning (but didn't end up finding him, goddammit), so the whole ordeal was pretty useless.
Yesterday morning--and I meant to post this yesterday, but didn't quite make it--Codie and I went out for a smoke and it was really foggy. But humid-warm. Sort of nice, though weird for Lubbock weather. We saw a TON of spiderwebs, all framed with dew. You could see them pretty damn well, and the little spiders were working at them... I tried to find my camera but failed. Took pictures later in the day, and they didn't come out.
But, hey! Pictures. Expect them to be posted.
Blah blah blah blah, Kate will be less emo by mid-week.
(P.S., ESPECIALLY WITH THE HELP OF KATAMARI DAMACY!!! can'tbelieveHastingssoldmetherental...!)
See the rest...
Reading: Good Omens
For the record, periods suck.
A lot.
I failed to realize how taxing work would be for not only Codie, but me as well. I don't have a job (a point of mention and annoyance when I speak to my parents, usually), but with Codie now gone nine hours out of the day, I end up feeling useless and lonely and typically don't get anything done that I wanted to and just sleep; or not sleep and end up tired by the time Codie gets home (which is convenient, because he is usually tired by the time he gets home and will just crawl in bed with me).
My sleep schedule is completely fucked. I go to sleep at five in the morning, I go to sleep at six at night, I wake up at six PM, I roll over and can't get back to sleep at two AM. I worry about a lot more things with someone else in my life (or perhaps it's just paranoia attached to other things?). I've always been able to worry my brain enough about something that I will wake up every few hours so I don't miss whatever time I was supposed to be up, but now it's just fucking ridiculous. I wake up at the most annoying hours and wonder if I should wake Codie up, usually because he's mentioned he needs to be up, or we wanted to do something... I haven't slept solidly through a night in... way too long. I need to relax.
Speaking of relaxing: being on my period makes me CRAVE cigarettes like nothing else, right? But it also makes me NAUSEOUS to smoke them! Grr! What the hell is that, Mother Nature?! Eat shit and die. ;_;
On other subjects... Fourth of July sucked. Went to Fourth on Broadway, the local parade, and it was the shittiest thing ever. Ran into a friend I owed cigarettes to. Delivered them. Missed the fireworks (was sleeping aslkdfnlsdfkn; even woke up at a reasonable hour, knowing I didn't want to miss them, and considered waking Codie up...), STILL haven't ever blown off my own fireworks... But, eh. Things have been hectic. Codie started work on the second, by the fourth we were just getting used to it, sleep needed to be had, yadda yaddda yadda, we'd promised to meet someone on Broadway in the morning (but didn't end up finding him, goddammit), so the whole ordeal was pretty useless.
Yesterday morning--and I meant to post this yesterday, but didn't quite make it--Codie and I went out for a smoke and it was really foggy. But humid-warm. Sort of nice, though weird for Lubbock weather. We saw a TON of spiderwebs, all framed with dew. You could see them pretty damn well, and the little spiders were working at them... I tried to find my camera but failed. Took pictures later in the day, and they didn't come out.
But, hey! Pictures. Expect them to be posted.
Blah blah blah blah, Kate will be less emo by mid-week.
(P.S., ESPECIALLY WITH THE HELP OF KATAMARI DAMACY!!! can'tbelieveHastingssoldmetherental...!)
See the rest...
Friday, July 6, 2007
Work... again.
Smoking: Newports and Marlbro Smooths back to back (in that order)
Reading: Comcast Digital Video Maintenance Manuals
So, working again.
I had forgotten how taxing work can be. It seems now to be even more tiring, which is odd considering I sit on my ass for hours at a time basically doing nothing to get paid-- which, I mean, you certainly can't argue with $9.00 an hour for doing nothing. The only entertainment I've found, besides resuming my status as a news-junkie, is conversations in the break area about cigarettes and listening to people call in about how they can't watch their Playboy channel (which they spend like $55 a month for). But work is going. I think I'm going to like it a lot more when I'm actually on the floor and not in training, although I found out today that I'm a lot more prepared for work than I thought I was (Thanks, Patty, for actually shoving all that information down our throats-- no sarcasm intended).
I've been finding myself being plagued with more and more of a creative impulse lately, so I've been letting that out as much as I possibly can, usually through my Akathisia project.
I've also been role playing with Kate. I'll usually start, so I've got a lot of control about what they're going to be about. This is the beginnings of our new one:
She doesn't know who my character is yet, which is pretty cool; and it's interesting to see how she's responding to my multiple characters with her sole character. I might post some more later, or I might leave it up to her.
I'll try and keep this updated. Let's see how far this takes us...
end transmission
See the rest...
Reading: Comcast Digital Video Maintenance Manuals
So, working again.
I had forgotten how taxing work can be. It seems now to be even more tiring, which is odd considering I sit on my ass for hours at a time basically doing nothing to get paid-- which, I mean, you certainly can't argue with $9.00 an hour for doing nothing. The only entertainment I've found, besides resuming my status as a news-junkie, is conversations in the break area about cigarettes and listening to people call in about how they can't watch their Playboy channel (which they spend like $55 a month for). But work is going. I think I'm going to like it a lot more when I'm actually on the floor and not in training, although I found out today that I'm a lot more prepared for work than I thought I was (Thanks, Patty, for actually shoving all that information down our throats-- no sarcasm intended).
I've been finding myself being plagued with more and more of a creative impulse lately, so I've been letting that out as much as I possibly can, usually through my Akathisia project.
I've also been role playing with Kate. I'll usually start, so I've got a lot of control about what they're going to be about. This is the beginnings of our new one:
(5:09:09 AM) codie: Samuel was a decent man. He was a scientist put in charge of a genetics project down at the lab. His current project was simple: prolong life. He slaved away with his team researching nature and the way animals have adapted, the way their genes change and evolve, the way chamalions blend in and cheetahs run so fast. The way falcons divebomb pray and the way stick bugs hide on branches. He was starting to get closer to cracking the key to human longevity. He was about to die.
Jude was getting tired of the bullshit. He had waited. He had sifted and hid and felt his way past the trash and the bullshit of having to live among the... humans. He had orders, but he was tired of dealing with the shit the way they wanted him to upstairs. Jude had a vandetta. Not against anyone in particular, but about the way he is made to handle his job. He was sick and tired of looking like them. Living like them. And it was his turn to change.
(5:09:29 AM) codie: Jude had followed Samuel home from work. The city was big, and Samuel had to walk. The two wandered through the streets, the sun setting slowly and the people shuffling along the sidewalks. Samuel stopped for a moment to take in the beautiful night and Jude took the opportunity. He hadn't stopped to think if there were anymore beings from his realm present, or any realm other than the one he was in, for that matter. But he did not fucking care. Not anymore. He leapt in the air and sprouted gorgeous wings; white, speckeled with silver, beasts in and of themselves. He unsheathed the most classic of all weapons, a fiery sword and, while still in the air, shouted:
"When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come pass the saying that is written!!:..."
With that he slammed down into Samuel's back, thrusting the sword down hard and twisting a little bit. He got right next to Samuel's ear and shouted the ending, "Death is swallowed up in victory!!"
(5:09:33 AM) codie: Samuel didn't see it coming, and wasn't sure what he was hearing, but before he could even think about it he fell limp and as Jude slowly removed the sword, Samuel collapsed to the ground, dead, as Jude soared up into the air and out of sight, perching on a nearby building and watching the crowd in hysterics.
(5:29:53 AM) Kate: "That seemed rather unnecessary," a female voice murmured, appearing in a small sizzle of black, purple-edge flame, stepping down from the portal, the smell of brimstone heavy on her; wretched and rotting. The woman--or so she appeared--was tall for her gender, and well proportioned (as she saw fit; no reason to shapeshift if it was going to be into a shitty body), and dressed in a long, black leather trench coat paired with tall boots and pants that fit her. She wore a hat over shaggy, long black hair, the brim wide and the head mangled. A cigarette dangled between her lips, the scent even more disgusting (and probably slightly distressing to an angel) than any ever felt on Earth.
With a flick of her wrist, Yusaf took the hat from her head and looked at it critically, poking at the head until it was in a slightly more uniform shape and then replacing it on her head, tugging at the front part of the brim. "You must be pretty damn proud of yourself, angel," she said, anunciating the phrase 'pretty damn proud' in a very human sort of way. (Demons were like that, weren't they? Human-like; unfavorable.) As Yusaf turned her yellow eyes toward Jude, the far side of her face showed, the cheek rotten and showing right to the bone of her jaw and teeth, smoke slowly slipping from the hole as she inhaled from her cigarette. Exhaling, she stepped down from the edge of the building, her shoes loud and dull.
(5:29:55 AM) Kate: "The pests will get you before I can," Yusaf mused, straightening the cuffs of her jacket, sighing quietly, the sound coming out strangely because of the large gap in the skin on her cheek. She looked to the sky, looking for the swarm of angels she expected any moment. Shenanigans like that would get you caught in a flash. If you were an underling, you would probably get sent right back, but if you had friends Up There, you might get lucky and just get suspended. "You're lucky policies are different now, you know," Yusaf mused, "Back in the day, you pulled shit like that, you get dragged away by those nasty little shadow bugs." She clawed her hands and moved toward Jude for effect, wiggling her fingers in an almost-menacing way, had it not been so childish. The "shadow bugs" weren't literally bugs; they had a human shape, but were very clingy and reminded one of a bug, the way they dragged their prey away.
"How does it feel to get away with murder, angel?" Yusaf knew Jude's name, but she would not honor him by using it. "Sure, it was in the Master Plan," she used the term with disdain and mocking, "but not so soon. And not so quickly." She laughed, "You really pulled some of that Bible bullshit down there, didn't you? Think trying to justify the means will get you some points with The Boss?" Yusaf smirked.
(4:57:42 AM) codie: Jude looked at the woman, the female as it may be said, got up, and walked away from her. He had no time for this. He noted the absence of her name and wondered if she knew? No, no one knew. She knows me as Jude. That's it. What a clever scheme! What a work of art! And it was. It was art.
Jegudiel was an interesting choice. The passive played offense. Jude looked down at his sword and looked back up, the sword changing to a whip. A crown appearing on his head, nothing special, just a crown.
"That's better."
(5:09:49 AM) Kate: Now, Yusaf could be cool, but she severely disliked being ignored.
"Hey. Hey! Hey, are you even--?" Her very pale cheeks turned a flush color in anger and annoyance. "Not even fucking paying attention," she muttered to herself. When not even this drew a response from the angel, she threw up her hands and spoke to herself in a high, amused voice. "Lord! He's completely ignoring me!" While Yusaf continued to complain about being ignored, the expected swarm of angels descended upon the Plane.
"Jude!" Micheal shouted, his presence an example of the direness of the matter. "What have you done?!" Several other angel drones swooped down to wrap the rouge angel in golden chains, chaining his wings along with his limbs down, the chains held by the other angels.
(5:15:09 AM) codie: Among the angels were Gabriel, Micheal and a couple of other archangels.
"Jegudiel," Gabriel started, a placid look on his face, "You know this is unacceptable. I can't believe you of all--"
Jude's body went limp for a moment and almost fell to the ground, but before the legs gave completely, it stood erect again and looked at the other angels inquisitively.
"Where am I?"
Gabriel noticed something was wrong at once, and him and Michael took Jegudiel, after exchanging knowing glances, and soared up and out of sight. The few of the angels followed, the rest vanished into the crowds to continue work, keep watch, whatnot. Everyone except Ramiel.
Ramiel stood strong. His blond hair flowing at his waist. He was garbed in emerald armor, lined in smoke gray, with an emblem sporting the image of a gravemarker with an inverted shadow of a sword in the shape of a cross in the middle.
"Wasn't that great?" Ramiel said halfway to himself. He had almost forgotton about the girl who was there with him. He really had no idea who she was, and didn't really care, either.
He stared at her, then turned away and started admiring the city, with a sarcastic glance of happiness.
(5:56:24 AM) Kate: Yusaf watched the angels fly away, almost complaining about their bird- or bug-like nature, but decided against it, considering there was still one in her midst. She looked to Ramiel's back. Self-important asshole. She looked to the sky, watching the angel disappear. She was drawn from her gaze by the angel's voice. She jumped slightly and then moved up to stand even with him.
She was not easily recognized only for her constant shapeshifting. Yusaf was hard not to know, and hard to track with those yellow eyes and black, purple-tipped hair. Those were constants.
"It was impressive, to say the least," Yusaf murmured, almost to herself. She didn't want to be ignored again.
(11:53:31 AM) codie: Ramiel stood on the rooftop. He didn't say much, but he talked to himself quite a bit. Things of what to do next. Maybe plan something big again, or just take out small projects from now on. Do some work for both sides, try and earn some sort of rep. But a rep comes slow when people don't know who you are. But a legend! A legend is who he could be! Then, even if or when revealed, people might not even believe! Well, a legend of past he already was. This whole starting a new image thing wasn't working out.
"Oh, hi, did you say something?"
(12:07:24 PM) Kate: Yusaf narrowed her eyes at Ramiel furiously and pulled back a fist that gathered black, purple-edged flame before it hit Ramiel's armored shoulder. Yusaf looked angry, but otherwise unaffected, from hitting the hard plate (despite its Holiness). "Oh, hi, indeed!" she spat and crossed her arms under her newly acquired chest, still getting used to such comfy bits at just the right height. (Yusaf was rather genderless in 'her' true state.)
"Some acknowledgement you have to an old friend!" Alright, so they weren't friends, but Ramiel certainly wasn't an archangel, so he was certainly not too good to know Yusaf. "You angels! All of you--got a bunch of nerve, the lot of you. God damn you all! God damn you!" Yusaf leaned toward Ramiel as she shouted this, knowing the words would sting his ears a bit, even if he was not quite as Good as others, who ears would bleed at such words. With a final bit of spite, Yusaf threw a few words in the demonic tongue Ramiel's way, sure to give him a little headache (as if the Mortal tongue wasn't bad enough). She knew he could probably do more damage saying Holy things to her, but she was sick and tired of all these passive angels. Fucking -bird- brains, that's what it was.
(11:53:38 PM) codie: Ramiel pretended to wince, but then cracked a big smile after not realizing he could hold it. He was in a pretty good mood. The fact that no one was catching on yet was priceless, and all of his plans were becoming slightly more focused. He knew what he eventually wanted to do, and this was a damn good start.
"Yeah! Yusaf, right? Yeah, what are you doing here?"
He half cared. He figured if he did make friends with her, she would be a valuable ally. She had already proven to be one who could hide in the shadows out of sight, but also creep in to full view only to make her self known as if she were the only thing to mattered-- and Ramiel was sure that's how she viewed the world... which could become a slight annoyance, but he'd burn the bridge when he crossed.
He looked at her with a slight smile. The kind of casual, almost suave smile that would drive anyone like her crazy. He perked up, "So..?"
She doesn't know who my character is yet, which is pretty cool; and it's interesting to see how she's responding to my multiple characters with her sole character. I might post some more later, or I might leave it up to her.
I'll try and keep this updated. Let's see how far this takes us...
end transmission
See the rest...
Thursday, July 5, 2007
&
Smoking: Zanzibar Lights
Reading: Good Omens, The Book Thief
Blogs/journals have never worked well for me. Sort of play into my fear of psychiatrists, psychologists, therapists, counselors and the like (a fear that has become a mouse of its former self). But, I do find blogs and journals can be terribly interesting, especially when guided by a hobby or something of the sort. My last journal was at first supposed to be used for roleplaying (hobby no.1), but ended up being primarily used for photography (hobby no.2), and dolls (hobby no.3). BJDs, mind you. Not porcelain.
I hope that this blog ends up becoming a little dump for whatever I might motivate myself to put on it. Hope to expect dolls, photography, knitting... All in small doses, be well assured. :P
It's really interesting being with someone who I finally feel like I can spend the rest of my life with. Someone who I finally trust enough to actually create something with (i.e., this blog). I've been with other people that it would have been much more appropriate to have a blog together (internet relationships), but I always knew it would just end up in a mess so I never went ahead with it. But I think this will only be interesting and fun. Worry-free! Such a joy!
(P.S., note to self: start knitting Codie a damn cardigan already.)
See the rest...
Reading: Good Omens, The Book Thief
Blogs/journals have never worked well for me. Sort of play into my fear of psychiatrists, psychologists, therapists, counselors and the like (a fear that has become a mouse of its former self). But, I do find blogs and journals can be terribly interesting, especially when guided by a hobby or something of the sort. My last journal was at first supposed to be used for roleplaying (hobby no.1), but ended up being primarily used for photography (hobby no.2), and dolls (hobby no.3). BJDs, mind you. Not porcelain.
I hope that this blog ends up becoming a little dump for whatever I might motivate myself to put on it. Hope to expect dolls, photography, knitting... All in small doses, be well assured. :P
It's really interesting being with someone who I finally feel like I can spend the rest of my life with. Someone who I finally trust enough to actually create something with (i.e., this blog). I've been with other people that it would have been much more appropriate to have a blog together (internet relationships), but I always knew it would just end up in a mess so I never went ahead with it. But I think this will only be interesting and fun. Worry-free! Such a joy!
(P.S., note to self: start knitting Codie a damn cardigan already.)
See the rest...
She Vanished Like a Dream! Back into the Ground!
Smoking: Djarum Cherry
Listening To: mewithoutYou's [A--> B] Life album
Initiation is over and the next foray into the world of literary terrorism has begun. In a word, success. The thoughts have seem to come full circle.
I'm able, now, to express myself and be expressed through who I'm with. It's a wonderful feeling, knowing that the person you are with has somehow become an extension of yourself. Someone who, without them, you would be insufficiently expressed. We can do anything together, including what we're doing now, which is sitting downstairs on opposite ends of the couch at 4:45 in the morning posting to this thing we just created. Maybe she's role playing, I don't know, can't see her screen. Doesn't matter. We're enjoying each other's company just sitting in the same room as the other, which is more I can say for past relationships I've been in.
Back to proper ceremonies, I hope to actually use this thing. Keep updates on life, post interesting things I find on the interwebs, whatever. I hope she uses it too! That would be pretty cool.
end transmission
See the rest...
Listening To: mewithoutYou's [A--> B] Life album
Initiation is over and the next foray into the world of literary terrorism has begun. In a word, success. The thoughts have seem to come full circle.
I'm able, now, to express myself and be expressed through who I'm with. It's a wonderful feeling, knowing that the person you are with has somehow become an extension of yourself. Someone who, without them, you would be insufficiently expressed. We can do anything together, including what we're doing now, which is sitting downstairs on opposite ends of the couch at 4:45 in the morning posting to this thing we just created. Maybe she's role playing, I don't know, can't see her screen. Doesn't matter. We're enjoying each other's company just sitting in the same room as the other, which is more I can say for past relationships I've been in.
Back to proper ceremonies, I hope to actually use this thing. Keep updates on life, post interesting things I find on the interwebs, whatever. I hope she uses it too! That would be pretty cool.
end transmission
See the rest...
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