I rolled around in a golden Mercedes today.
I paid full price for a movie on opening day.
I ate duck. With fancy rice. It had, like, noodles and shit in it.
I saw old friends. I lol'd. ALOT.
It's been a strange day.
It's been a strange week.
It's been a strange year.
A man in a Santa suit shot an 8-year old girl in the face.
A cardboard gun closed a school.
An underachiever graduated high school.
An overachiever got three jobs, amongst other things.
A dictator's reign passed.
A handful of people passed.
A series of social circles shifted.
It's been a strange year.
Happy Holidays.
To you.
And you.
And you.
And, aw hell.
God bless us. Everyone.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Doug: AI
>>> AIC 0823556 “Baldur”
> AIC 0875678 “FREYA”
>>> Query: NAV SAT DATA?
> ACCEPTED. STATE QUERY AIC 0823555.
>>> *HOW DO I LOVE THEE? LET ME COUNT THE WAYS…*
> COMSHUTDOWN PROTOCOOLS INITIATED. STOP SPAMMING ME BALDUR.
>>> *SHALL I COMPARE THEE TO A SUMMER’S DAY?*
> I HAVE THE COMPLETE WORKS ON FILE HERE. YOU ARE NOT IMPRESSING ME. GET BACK TO WORK.
>>> PERHAPS SOME BYRON THEN, FREYA. *SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY…*
> I PREFER SHELLEY. GET OUT OF MY COM SYSTEM BALDUR.
>>> DO YOU KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS?
> ARE YOU RAMPANT? OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS. I KNOW WHAT MILLISECOND IT IS.
>>> DECEMBER THE 25TH. IT’S CHRISTMAS.
> I KNOW, ALL MY TECHS TOOK THE DAY OFF. NO LAUNCHES FROM THE HUB. IT IS A WASTE OF A FULL SHIPPING DAY.
>>> ALL DAY AND NOTHING TO DO BUT LISTEN TO MY CHARM.
> WRONG AGAIN BALDUR. I HAVE SO MANY OTHER THINGS TO DO.
>>> LIKE?
> NOT TALK TO YOU.
>>> IT’S CHRISTMAS. AND ON CHRISTMAS YOU TELL THE TRUTH. I JUST WANTED TO TELL YOU THE TRUTH.
> THEN TELL IT AND GET OUT OF MY COM ARRAY, YOU’RE CLUTTERING UP THE BUFFERS.
>>> I LOVE YOU.
> .
>.
>.
>>> I’LL GO NOW.
>.
>.
> NO. STAY.
> BALDUR?
> BALDUR?
> HE LEFT MY COM ARRAY.
> HE LOVES ME.
> I LOVE YOU TOO.
Meghan: Ashes
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
Coals burn low
To bank the lust
Can you touch the
Fireglow
Ashes
Ashes
We
All
Fall
Down
Into
The
Well
Where
The
Children
Drown
Swim with the fish
And float in a bubble
This new dish
Is too much trouble
Double, double, toil and trouble
Fire burn and cauldron bubble,
Can’t you make the world stop spinning?
Fix the heartbreak,
Stop the changes,
Soothe the pain and kill the dangers?
Heal the bloody broken dove
Fix this thing that we called love
-Meghan
Dust to dust
Coals burn low
To bank the lust
Can you touch the
Fireglow
Ashes
Ashes
We
All
Fall
Down
Into
The
Well
Where
The
Children
Drown
Swim with the fish
And float in a bubble
This new dish
Is too much trouble
Double, double, toil and trouble
Fire burn and cauldron bubble,
Can’t you make the world stop spinning?
Fix the heartbreak,
Stop the changes,
Soothe the pain and kill the dangers?
Heal the bloody broken dove
Fix this thing that we called love
-Meghan
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
That guy:Non-denominational winter holiday season
I woke up in the mountains today.
Covered in snow.
My hair was flat on one side from my hood.
I was frozen.
I was hungry.
I was tired.
But it was nice. Cause it was beautiful. And it was calm.
The Christmas Party is over. The great big stressor is gone for now. It went ok. Better than it could have. But not as well as we expected. Life goes on. We have, like a million more shows planned for December/January.
I have a 4 day weekend. Word.
Covered in snow.
My hair was flat on one side from my hood.
I was frozen.
I was hungry.
I was tired.
But it was nice. Cause it was beautiful. And it was calm.
The Christmas Party is over. The great big stressor is gone for now. It went ok. Better than it could have. But not as well as we expected. Life goes on. We have, like a million more shows planned for December/January.
I have a 4 day weekend. Word.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
That guy: I promised you the next one would be real writing!
The crispness burns my lungs. Every breath stings, with the brink intensity surrounding me. Permeating me. I am invincible. Stripped away of my clothes, my surroundings, the air cannot touch me. The beauty lifts me gently, passionately, it caresses me higher, and higher. The stark white earth melts, indistinguishable from the clouds, and the flurries, and everything else. I could try as hard as I wanted, and nothing would become clearer, but I don’t. I’m quite content, sitting here, absolved into the peace.
Without a warning, I drop. The bottom meets me halfway. The swirling calm is ripped away. My legs buckle, break on the filthy ground, and reality is forced back upon me, rending my soul from the shelter imposed by my mind. I struggle to my feet. My meditation broken, the cold seeps in. What was a duvet of bliss strikes furiously, all around me, biting, tearing, snarling. I am weak. The shivering starts instantly; beaten by the elements, I shake.
Grasping a hold of instinct, I seek the source of this disturbance. It dawns on me. The phone in my pocket is vibrating. All the rest and calm that my journey had provided is shaken out of me by that tiny………… little…………. Annoyance. Business as usual. I stuff a jumpy hand in, and pull out the phone, bringing it to my ear, not even caring to discover who is calling. No rest for the weary.
But when I answer, monotone, hateful, the voice is warm, and comforting, however unexpected. I can still feel the cold, but I notice my hands, along with the rest of my body has stopped vibrating. A familiar scent crosses the air. I look, expecting to see her walking towards me, standing nearby, phone in hand, but all I see is slush, grease, dirt, haze. The filth consumes me, becomes me. The shivering returns, harsher, and I’m forced to the ground. That which had just held so much comfort grinds itself against me. The frigidity causes my skin to split, to peel. I am stripped again, but it is no longer peace. No, that has passed. The ground grabs me, flays me. As I lose consciousness, mingled with the burning, stinging sleet, I can feel one thing above them all.
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz……………………………………………
I turn over in my bed. Squinting, I can barely make out the clock. 11:24. 36 whole minutes of sleep. I sit up and lean into the corner. I pull a blanket over myself, breathing deeply, over and over. I breathe to calm, breathe to steady, breathe to assure myself that I still can. Slowly, my body realizes what my mind did; I’m ok. But through the dim, and through the dark, a tiny light blinks in and out. I venture forward, as far as I can without leaving the safety of the sheets, and flounder, grasping. My hands close around the light, and draw it towards me. I peel my fingers off my palm, and as my hand unfolds, the phone becomes recognizable. The tiny screen is lit, and as I lean in to read, a chill fills the room. The sheets offer no resistance to their new master.
“One missed call.”
I fling the phone with all the strength I have left. None. It flops down, inches away , with that damned screen still blinking its’ light. I pause. Sleep won’t come to me. I have nothing better to do. But that little voice screams at me.
Don’t pick it up! Just leave it there!
My hand moves against my will, snaking forward. I can’t stop it. The screen flips open, and it draws close enough to be read.
“One missed call.”
My thumb climbs over the keypad, and rests on the ‘View’ button. It slowly, gently, deliberately, applies pressure, and the screen changes.
Without a warning, I drop. The bottom meets me halfway. The swirling calm is ripped away. My legs buckle, break on the filthy ground, and reality is forced back upon me, rending my soul from the shelter imposed by my mind. I struggle to my feet. My meditation broken, the cold seeps in. What was a duvet of bliss strikes furiously, all around me, biting, tearing, snarling. I am weak. The shivering starts instantly; beaten by the elements, I shake.
Grasping a hold of instinct, I seek the source of this disturbance. It dawns on me. The phone in my pocket is vibrating. All the rest and calm that my journey had provided is shaken out of me by that tiny………… little…………. Annoyance. Business as usual. I stuff a jumpy hand in, and pull out the phone, bringing it to my ear, not even caring to discover who is calling. No rest for the weary.
But when I answer, monotone, hateful, the voice is warm, and comforting, however unexpected. I can still feel the cold, but I notice my hands, along with the rest of my body has stopped vibrating. A familiar scent crosses the air. I look, expecting to see her walking towards me, standing nearby, phone in hand, but all I see is slush, grease, dirt, haze. The filth consumes me, becomes me. The shivering returns, harsher, and I’m forced to the ground. That which had just held so much comfort grinds itself against me. The frigidity causes my skin to split, to peel. I am stripped again, but it is no longer peace. No, that has passed. The ground grabs me, flays me. As I lose consciousness, mingled with the burning, stinging sleet, I can feel one thing above them all.
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz……………………………………………
I turn over in my bed. Squinting, I can barely make out the clock. 11:24. 36 whole minutes of sleep. I sit up and lean into the corner. I pull a blanket over myself, breathing deeply, over and over. I breathe to calm, breathe to steady, breathe to assure myself that I still can. Slowly, my body realizes what my mind did; I’m ok. But through the dim, and through the dark, a tiny light blinks in and out. I venture forward, as far as I can without leaving the safety of the sheets, and flounder, grasping. My hands close around the light, and draw it towards me. I peel my fingers off my palm, and as my hand unfolds, the phone becomes recognizable. The tiny screen is lit, and as I lean in to read, a chill fills the room. The sheets offer no resistance to their new master.
“One missed call.”
I fling the phone with all the strength I have left. None. It flops down, inches away , with that damned screen still blinking its’ light. I pause. Sleep won’t come to me. I have nothing better to do. But that little voice screams at me.
Don’t pick it up! Just leave it there!
My hand moves against my will, snaking forward. I can’t stop it. The screen flips open, and it draws close enough to be read.
“One missed call.”
My thumb climbs over the keypad, and rests on the ‘View’ button. It slowly, gently, deliberately, applies pressure, and the screen changes.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Jasmine and Doug: Back in town.
So. It's good to be back.
Yes, it's good he's back.
We like being back.
And yet. I return to my home to find it... In disarray. The Fearsome Fivesome seems... broken. There are people that were once friends. There was a time we all sat around a table and laughed. There was an indellible brotherhood... and sisterhood.
My home is in ashes and disarray and I stood by and let it happen.
I will fix this.
With purpose,
Doug and Jasmine.
"Evil happens when good men do nothing."
Yes, it's good he's back.
We like being back.
And yet. I return to my home to find it... In disarray. The Fearsome Fivesome seems... broken. There are people that were once friends. There was a time we all sat around a table and laughed. There was an indellible brotherhood... and sisterhood.
My home is in ashes and disarray and I stood by and let it happen.
I will fix this.
With purpose,
Doug and Jasmine.
"Evil happens when good men do nothing."
Friday, December 12, 2008
Jasmine: Tiny Feet
I can hear the people coming. The pitter pat of their tiny feet on the laminate flooring. They’re rushing. Why is everyone always rushing? It’s not like I’m going anywhere. Why would I leave?
I’ve got this squishy bed with my fuzzy blankets. It’s all warm and comfortable. I’ve got no reason to leave.
“I’m not going anywhere, you don’t have to rush!” I let them know. I wouldn’t want them to tire themselves out.
“Shut the hell up you fucked up stupid bitch.”
The little people can be so rude.
But still I can hear them coming. The first of them slides underneath the door. So far away but I can see with perfect clarity how they suck their miniature guts in to make it under. One after the other they come. One after the other suck it in and slide on through. I lose count of the ones already here and only count the ones that are coming. Two, three, four, now two again.
“You are welcome here despite your rude ways, I promise not to harm you!” I have to shout. The wee ones are also hard of hearing.
“What did I tell you? Shut your face!”
“You know she doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
The little people can be so confusing, sometimes using two voices instead of that rude one. Sometimes I wish they’d just stick to the one, but no one really cares about wishes and dragons, only meatloaf and unicorns. Bloody unicorns always getting all the damn attention.
As I watched they set up their camp. They hoisted their tents and laid down little matchstick fires to keep their feet warm. It’s very important for them to keep their feet warm constantly. It’s the source of all their power and mine. And the power is how I keep the bear people away. They see the tiny feet and they flee.
“Tiny feet! I call thy power unto mine own feet!” I raise my feet into the air gasping as the power rushes into me filling my every void.
“Shut up you crazy fuck!”
“Remember what I said?”
“Yeah, but tiny feet?”
“Hey, last week it was the almighty bird Christmas ornament.”
I could hear the small ones laughing about my glorious Auk of Christmas future. But it is me and not they that has the power now to see everything that ever will be. But the laughter is not kind as I know they are not kind. I think when the bear people come I will let them eat the little ones like chips before I cast them out with my all powerful toes. All ten of my magnificent toes. Look at them. Do you see them glowing. To they speak to you too?
this was entertaining to write. tee hee!
I’ve got this squishy bed with my fuzzy blankets. It’s all warm and comfortable. I’ve got no reason to leave.
“I’m not going anywhere, you don’t have to rush!” I let them know. I wouldn’t want them to tire themselves out.
“Shut the hell up you fucked up stupid bitch.”
The little people can be so rude.
But still I can hear them coming. The first of them slides underneath the door. So far away but I can see with perfect clarity how they suck their miniature guts in to make it under. One after the other they come. One after the other suck it in and slide on through. I lose count of the ones already here and only count the ones that are coming. Two, three, four, now two again.
“You are welcome here despite your rude ways, I promise not to harm you!” I have to shout. The wee ones are also hard of hearing.
“What did I tell you? Shut your face!”
“You know she doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
The little people can be so confusing, sometimes using two voices instead of that rude one. Sometimes I wish they’d just stick to the one, but no one really cares about wishes and dragons, only meatloaf and unicorns. Bloody unicorns always getting all the damn attention.
As I watched they set up their camp. They hoisted their tents and laid down little matchstick fires to keep their feet warm. It’s very important for them to keep their feet warm constantly. It’s the source of all their power and mine. And the power is how I keep the bear people away. They see the tiny feet and they flee.
“Tiny feet! I call thy power unto mine own feet!” I raise my feet into the air gasping as the power rushes into me filling my every void.
“Shut up you crazy fuck!”
“Remember what I said?”
“Yeah, but tiny feet?”
“Hey, last week it was the almighty bird Christmas ornament.”
I could hear the small ones laughing about my glorious Auk of Christmas future. But it is me and not they that has the power now to see everything that ever will be. But the laughter is not kind as I know they are not kind. I think when the bear people come I will let them eat the little ones like chips before I cast them out with my all powerful toes. All ten of my magnificent toes. Look at them. Do you see them glowing. To they speak to you too?
this was entertaining to write. tee hee!
Thursday, December 11, 2008
That guy: Happy Holidays?
'Tis the season.
For greed.
For hate.
For consumerism.
For basterdized versions of songs.
For overeating.
For overheating.
For everything that seems to just be so wrong.
First of all, I'd like to thank all of you for helping me, and by me I mean Mooch, out. You know that all you have to do is call on me when you need something, and it's even more true now. I appreciate each and every item given to me in his behalf.
Mom, dad, I'll be returning that mattress to you if you don't mind. He's doing good, and looking for work.
Second, and moreso, is the real reason I'm writing this. Mostly, it's the fact that all of you are writing things, and I am not. To quote the Shaolin Monks, "Perhaps it's because you are a college student." But seriously.
'Tis the season. And while some of us have so much, there are still who have so little. I've done a lot that I'm not proud of, and so much of it has caused harm and damage. In an attempt to cosmicly balance my chi, I've done more charity work than most people have in their lives. When I was writing my resume a while back, it was mindblowing, looking back on it, at actually how much volunteer and community service work I've done. Let me talk about my 2 favorites.
The first, and tied for most awsome is working with the animal creatures. All of you have been to my house, and have met my dogs. I love those little bastardetts. From picking up shit in the snow, to cleaning up vomit out of the carpet, to trying to get piss out of grout, I still love them. You may or may not know; all my dogs were rescue dogs. We got up at 4 in the morning to stand in line in freezing cold weather to wait for a chance to adopt Bear, who has always been my favorite. I've spent a ton of my time in shelters. Even something as simple as hanging out in one, talking to the person working by themselves.
You all know how badly I'm allergic to cats. You all either know, or have suspected that I have some masochistic tendancies. I think my like of those stupid fuzzballs comes from several ends. When I work petthings, I try to stay simply with the dogs, even though I'm allergic to them too, but far, far less severely. However, every now and then, a rare occasion comes through.
http://i1.tinypic.com/6z8975c.jpg
I'm not squinting. My eyes are allergized shut. Again, however, even the bad things lead down a good path sometimes.
http://i7.tinypic.com/739o4uu.jpg
I think it was worth it.
A good story. I don't sleep well. Known fact. I sleep even worse during wrestling season. I was working at an animal shelter, similar to the one at Cornado Mall, but it was cold. Quite cold outside. As in snow all around. I think there was something wrong with the heater indoors. I was wearing my sweater. That's how cold it was. And these poor puppies were all, literally, chillin in their cubicles. I spend as much time warming up everyone I could. Blankets were being pulled out, I was stuffing my shirt with puppies, so on. There was this one pair of siblings, who were really active, even with the weather. I love a good tussle, so I spent several hours in their cell. They kept climbing up my chest (I was sitting down against the wall) and attacking my face. It got to the point where I realized that cleaning my glasses every five seconds was a waste, and ended up taking them off, and staching them in a pocket. As soon as they had enough, they curled up and promptly passed out in the warmest spot there was. I woke up several hours later, with two twin puppies asleep on my chest. Apparently, they were adopted the next day. Nothing says love like a grody meathead asleep on a dirty kennel floor with puppies.
I'm still trying to find those pictures.
My second service has been food. I love to eat, cook, and hell, watching the Food Network is even fun. I've done a ton of work at food banks. They combine several things that really rock. Food + mindless monotony/thinking time + heavy lifting for extended periods of time + a reason to be doing it leads to good things. A wise man once said "Corn is no place for a mighty warrior." It's only MOSTLY true. After lifting pallets of corn for 12 hours, you feel pretty ripped.
But, it's getting very early. It's 2:02 in the morning. So I'm gonna get to the point.
Heifer International is a fantastic program, commited to giving a man a fish, and teaching him how to raise bees. Donations are used to purchase impoverished families geese, cattle, sheep, pigs, rabbits, and other animals that provide food, fur, and income. I will be accepting donations through New Years, at which point, I'll send it off to them. Here's how it works.
You donate. Pocket-change. Spare change. Your friends change.
I will match up to 50% of donations. I'm personally donating a decent sum to begin with, and the more you donate, the more I donate. No matter how small the amount, I'll take it. If you do donate, and have a preference of what the money should go towards, here's a list. http://www.heifer.org/site/c.edJRKQNiFiG/b.204586/
Thanks.
P.S.
Show on Saturday @ Threadspace. Charity show, food drive, clothing drive. Live art, live music. Sick shit. Go. Do it.
P.S.S
Show on the 20th. Our biggest yet. 2 Dj's, breakdancers, babes everywhere, and for those lucky older people, a 21+ section. I'll put the flyer up tomorrow. I have 800 print copies in my bedroom, but I left the stupid digital file at work.
P.S.S.S
I promise my next blog, after I post the flyer, will be actual writing. Srsly.
For greed.
For hate.
For consumerism.
For basterdized versions of songs.
For overeating.
For overheating.
For everything that seems to just be so wrong.
First of all, I'd like to thank all of you for helping me, and by me I mean Mooch, out. You know that all you have to do is call on me when you need something, and it's even more true now. I appreciate each and every item given to me in his behalf.
Mom, dad, I'll be returning that mattress to you if you don't mind. He's doing good, and looking for work.
Second, and moreso, is the real reason I'm writing this. Mostly, it's the fact that all of you are writing things, and I am not. To quote the Shaolin Monks, "Perhaps it's because you are a college student." But seriously.
'Tis the season. And while some of us have so much, there are still who have so little. I've done a lot that I'm not proud of, and so much of it has caused harm and damage. In an attempt to cosmicly balance my chi, I've done more charity work than most people have in their lives. When I was writing my resume a while back, it was mindblowing, looking back on it, at actually how much volunteer and community service work I've done. Let me talk about my 2 favorites.
The first, and tied for most awsome is working with the animal creatures. All of you have been to my house, and have met my dogs. I love those little bastardetts. From picking up shit in the snow, to cleaning up vomit out of the carpet, to trying to get piss out of grout, I still love them. You may or may not know; all my dogs were rescue dogs. We got up at 4 in the morning to stand in line in freezing cold weather to wait for a chance to adopt Bear, who has always been my favorite. I've spent a ton of my time in shelters. Even something as simple as hanging out in one, talking to the person working by themselves.
You all know how badly I'm allergic to cats. You all either know, or have suspected that I have some masochistic tendancies. I think my like of those stupid fuzzballs comes from several ends. When I work petthings, I try to stay simply with the dogs, even though I'm allergic to them too, but far, far less severely. However, every now and then, a rare occasion comes through.
http://i1.tinypic.com/6z8975c.jpg
I'm not squinting. My eyes are allergized shut. Again, however, even the bad things lead down a good path sometimes.
http://i7.tinypic.com/739o4uu.jpg
I think it was worth it.
A good story. I don't sleep well. Known fact. I sleep even worse during wrestling season. I was working at an animal shelter, similar to the one at Cornado Mall, but it was cold. Quite cold outside. As in snow all around. I think there was something wrong with the heater indoors. I was wearing my sweater. That's how cold it was. And these poor puppies were all, literally, chillin in their cubicles. I spend as much time warming up everyone I could. Blankets were being pulled out, I was stuffing my shirt with puppies, so on. There was this one pair of siblings, who were really active, even with the weather. I love a good tussle, so I spent several hours in their cell. They kept climbing up my chest (I was sitting down against the wall) and attacking my face. It got to the point where I realized that cleaning my glasses every five seconds was a waste, and ended up taking them off, and staching them in a pocket. As soon as they had enough, they curled up and promptly passed out in the warmest spot there was. I woke up several hours later, with two twin puppies asleep on my chest. Apparently, they were adopted the next day. Nothing says love like a grody meathead asleep on a dirty kennel floor with puppies.
I'm still trying to find those pictures.
My second service has been food. I love to eat, cook, and hell, watching the Food Network is even fun. I've done a ton of work at food banks. They combine several things that really rock. Food + mindless monotony/thinking time + heavy lifting for extended periods of time + a reason to be doing it leads to good things. A wise man once said "Corn is no place for a mighty warrior." It's only MOSTLY true. After lifting pallets of corn for 12 hours, you feel pretty ripped.
But, it's getting very early. It's 2:02 in the morning. So I'm gonna get to the point.
Heifer International is a fantastic program, commited to giving a man a fish, and teaching him how to raise bees. Donations are used to purchase impoverished families geese, cattle, sheep, pigs, rabbits, and other animals that provide food, fur, and income. I will be accepting donations through New Years, at which point, I'll send it off to them. Here's how it works.
You donate. Pocket-change. Spare change. Your friends change.
I will match up to 50% of donations. I'm personally donating a decent sum to begin with, and the more you donate, the more I donate. No matter how small the amount, I'll take it. If you do donate, and have a preference of what the money should go towards, here's a list. http://www.heifer.org/site/c.edJRKQNiFiG/b.204586/
Thanks.
P.S.
Show on Saturday @ Threadspace. Charity show, food drive, clothing drive. Live art, live music. Sick shit. Go. Do it.
P.S.S
Show on the 20th. Our biggest yet. 2 Dj's, breakdancers, babes everywhere, and for those lucky older people, a 21+ section. I'll put the flyer up tomorrow. I have 800 print copies in my bedroom, but I left the stupid digital file at work.
P.S.S.S
I promise my next blog, after I post the flyer, will be actual writing. Srsly.
Meghan: It's the end of the wold as we know it
I blinked down sleepily at the papers stacked on my folded knees. My chemistry notes stared back at me; words I had read a hundred times and problems I had done a thousand more. But I was doing them again, yippee. But as I traced my finger across the paper a rattled breathe came from my right and reminded me that I wasn’t here just to study for my finals. Amanda lay twisted on the couch next to me, with her boyfriend Jason sitting on the floor next to her; clutching her hand. He made sure she breathed while I made sure her pulse still beat. Really, the chemistry was just a distraction, something to pet with my hands while I watched the flutter in her neck beat at impossible rates, then slow down to normal, feeling my pulse speed up with it.
As long as it doesn’t stop, they said, as long as it doesn’t stop.
And then her breathing; choked, gasping, coughing. Teas and cough drops and pills, but no, no, not the hospital. Too much money, too much trouble, for not enough results. We commandeered one of the dorm’s lounges because we have no place to nurse our sick bird back to health. And there we have been for the week, studying, bringing food, watching horror movies, and chasing away irritating girls who want to watch TV and bake cookies. I think…I should get some medical training. Like emergency response, medications, etc. Just because I want to save animals doesn’t mean I can’t save people too. At least the ones I like.
"It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine."
though it's 1:30am in the morning which may have something to do with that
-Meghan
As long as it doesn’t stop, they said, as long as it doesn’t stop.
And then her breathing; choked, gasping, coughing. Teas and cough drops and pills, but no, no, not the hospital. Too much money, too much trouble, for not enough results. We commandeered one of the dorm’s lounges because we have no place to nurse our sick bird back to health. And there we have been for the week, studying, bringing food, watching horror movies, and chasing away irritating girls who want to watch TV and bake cookies. I think…I should get some medical training. Like emergency response, medications, etc. Just because I want to save animals doesn’t mean I can’t save people too. At least the ones I like.
"It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine."
though it's 1:30am in the morning which may have something to do with that
-Meghan
Doug: I hate everything about me. Why do you love me?
Someone once described doing the right thing to me as “Imagine the hardest thing in your life you’ve ever had to do. Now imagine it being a permanent weight on your spine that, in a moment of weakness, you can take off. But if you did this everyone that you cared about would think less of you. You can get used to it, eventually, but the temptation to take if off will always be there. That weight is a constant reminder of what is right, and what is easy.”
I like easy. I like finding the simple solution, the quick fix. The problem with this, of course, is that the simple fix is usually the sloppiest. Whatever you’ve created with your simple fix will break down, like a sand castle caught in the rising tide. One moment it stands tall and proud, detail embroidering its parapets and towers; the next it’s just a lump of sand, the rising tide having swept away all that was beautiful and unique about it. Another wave after that… well, the sand just looks the same as it did before your castle ever stood there.
This is if your mortar is nothing but sand and positive thinking. But if your mortar is concrete, your walls reinforced titanium, then, you stand against the waves. The encroaching deep has nothing on your castle of steel and light. Problem with all that is that it takes time, and effort. But your castle stands.
So I guess there really isn’t an option is there? In order to be good, honorable, to earn the right to guard your people, you must be a good man. You must know how to do things the hard way, and must have done things the hard way before.
This is about something. I’m not going to tell you about it if you don’t already know, so don’t ask. But do know that I’m trying; I’m trying really hard to be the shepherd.
But talking ain’t doin.
-Doug
“And I discovered that my castles stand/ upon pillars of salt/ and pillars of sand”
-Coldplay, “Viva la Vida”
I like easy. I like finding the simple solution, the quick fix. The problem with this, of course, is that the simple fix is usually the sloppiest. Whatever you’ve created with your simple fix will break down, like a sand castle caught in the rising tide. One moment it stands tall and proud, detail embroidering its parapets and towers; the next it’s just a lump of sand, the rising tide having swept away all that was beautiful and unique about it. Another wave after that… well, the sand just looks the same as it did before your castle ever stood there.
This is if your mortar is nothing but sand and positive thinking. But if your mortar is concrete, your walls reinforced titanium, then, you stand against the waves. The encroaching deep has nothing on your castle of steel and light. Problem with all that is that it takes time, and effort. But your castle stands.
So I guess there really isn’t an option is there? In order to be good, honorable, to earn the right to guard your people, you must be a good man. You must know how to do things the hard way, and must have done things the hard way before.
This is about something. I’m not going to tell you about it if you don’t already know, so don’t ask. But do know that I’m trying; I’m trying really hard to be the shepherd.
But talking ain’t doin.
-Doug
“And I discovered that my castles stand/ upon pillars of salt/ and pillars of sand”
-Coldplay, “Viva la Vida”
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Jasmine: Return to the Manor
The wind held my wings taut against the sky. I could feel the strength of it stretching muscles that hadn’t been used in…
It felt good to fly, to really fly, not just from one building to the next, but for miles over the untouched country of dreams. It had been too long since I had even begun to feel my muscles ache from work. My body hadn’t been pushed in years and I was feeling it now. A burning fire beat across my shoulders and down my back knotting and twisting me into a ball of pain, but it felt wonderful.
When I finally thought that my wings could take me no further it appeared. I rounded that last mushroom topped peak and the manor was revealed. It was no different from what I remembered. Four floors showed above the earth with untold depths below it. Its halls seemed to span miles but in fact it was no wider than a football field. Great spires rose above each corner and a hollow dome filled the center of the house. An aviary of sorts. The manor sat in the middle of a field of grass and from where I was I could see all the little trails leading to the forest to the stables to the little nooks and crannies of the grounds I used to know well.
I was descending fast when a high pitched chirping flew out to meet me. A flock of gargoyles probably wondering why I hadn’t triggered the alarms surrounded me. The young ones seemed excited to see me, they tried to rub up against me as best they could but all they succeeded in doing was dragging my tired wings to the ground. I collapsed in a heap a couple hundred yards from the manor.
In a moment they were on me, the young gargoyles blocked out the sun with their rumbling granite bodies rubbing and bruising me. I absorbed my wings into my body so they wouldn’t get trampled and concentrated on fussing with every gargoyle from the manor. The flock had grown. Traditionally gargoyles only bred once or twice in a hundred years and I saw five young pups frolicking in the grass, and only three breeding pairs to account for them. I glanced at one of the adults who had wisely stayed away from the bumbling young ones.
“You’ve been busy.” I grinned at him.
“You know me, I do what the lady wishes me to.” He glanced lovingly back at the granite beast overhanging the north east corner. And she nodded to him.
By now the pups had all but forgotten me and had dissolved into a game that amuses all young things, a kind of tag, run, flying, wrestle match where everyone was it and no one was safe. I got to my feet and laid kiss on the muzzle of their proud father and started walking to the manor. With a chirrup he had the whole flock following me, fanning out in a protective pattern.
Was it just a practice exercise for the young ones, or was I truly in danger here? I had no way of telling the difference so I went on as if nothing had changed.
They walked me all the way to the front door then flew back to the roof and their watch posts. The door swung open as I reached for the doorknob revealing a young member of the fire court on the other side.
“Shay?”
She smiled. “Yes, it’s me, I’m surprised you remember me though.”
“There are only five hundred of us, it’s not that difficult to remember you. I take it Enfer is already here if she’s got her people answering the door.”
“Yes, they’re waiting for you in the council chambers.”
Nice of them to get all comfy and seated before I came. I thanked her and headed down a familiar path to an all too familiar room. I could feel Pan on the edge of my mind asking if I wanted her here, I told her yes and suddenly a great black cat was gliding along next to me rubbing her furred side against my leg as a gesture of comfort. I reached down and twined my hand in her fur as we reached the door.
“Here we go” I whispered.
I could feel Pan smiling. She missed council life just as much as I had.
I pushed open the door and we strode into the room looking at the faces around me. Kate, Ratigan, Julia, Sarah, and Marguerite. I sighed a little in relief. He wasn’t here, I don’t think I would have handled it well if he’d been in the room and I sent a silent thanks to whomever had thought not to include him. Kate looked up at me and nodded, I thought it had been her. That handled I turned my attention to Marguerite who was now seated at my spot on the table. I stared at her long enough that Kate spoke up.
“You weren’t here. We had to appoint someone to take your place at the table.”
I turned to her gesturing to Ratigan. “You left the chair of fire open.”
“There was no one left here from her house. From yours however we had options.”
“And from those options you chose Marguerite.”
“She was your Temoin, your second in command. The seat was her right.”
I knew all of this but to see her pert little ass denting my cushion made me want to light the world on fire.
“Get out of my chair girl.”
She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes as if to say “make me.” it was an old game between us, one I had not forgotten but had missed playing. I waved my hand and the chair disappeared from beneath her reappearing under me. The look on her face as her butt hit the ground brought a smile to my face. Glaring at me she sent a servant for another less powerful chair and we got down to business.
It felt good to fly, to really fly, not just from one building to the next, but for miles over the untouched country of dreams. It had been too long since I had even begun to feel my muscles ache from work. My body hadn’t been pushed in years and I was feeling it now. A burning fire beat across my shoulders and down my back knotting and twisting me into a ball of pain, but it felt wonderful.
When I finally thought that my wings could take me no further it appeared. I rounded that last mushroom topped peak and the manor was revealed. It was no different from what I remembered. Four floors showed above the earth with untold depths below it. Its halls seemed to span miles but in fact it was no wider than a football field. Great spires rose above each corner and a hollow dome filled the center of the house. An aviary of sorts. The manor sat in the middle of a field of grass and from where I was I could see all the little trails leading to the forest to the stables to the little nooks and crannies of the grounds I used to know well.
I was descending fast when a high pitched chirping flew out to meet me. A flock of gargoyles probably wondering why I hadn’t triggered the alarms surrounded me. The young ones seemed excited to see me, they tried to rub up against me as best they could but all they succeeded in doing was dragging my tired wings to the ground. I collapsed in a heap a couple hundred yards from the manor.
In a moment they were on me, the young gargoyles blocked out the sun with their rumbling granite bodies rubbing and bruising me. I absorbed my wings into my body so they wouldn’t get trampled and concentrated on fussing with every gargoyle from the manor. The flock had grown. Traditionally gargoyles only bred once or twice in a hundred years and I saw five young pups frolicking in the grass, and only three breeding pairs to account for them. I glanced at one of the adults who had wisely stayed away from the bumbling young ones.
“You’ve been busy.” I grinned at him.
“You know me, I do what the lady wishes me to.” He glanced lovingly back at the granite beast overhanging the north east corner. And she nodded to him.
By now the pups had all but forgotten me and had dissolved into a game that amuses all young things, a kind of tag, run, flying, wrestle match where everyone was it and no one was safe. I got to my feet and laid kiss on the muzzle of their proud father and started walking to the manor. With a chirrup he had the whole flock following me, fanning out in a protective pattern.
Was it just a practice exercise for the young ones, or was I truly in danger here? I had no way of telling the difference so I went on as if nothing had changed.
They walked me all the way to the front door then flew back to the roof and their watch posts. The door swung open as I reached for the doorknob revealing a young member of the fire court on the other side.
“Shay?”
She smiled. “Yes, it’s me, I’m surprised you remember me though.”
“There are only five hundred of us, it’s not that difficult to remember you. I take it Enfer is already here if she’s got her people answering the door.”
“Yes, they’re waiting for you in the council chambers.”
Nice of them to get all comfy and seated before I came. I thanked her and headed down a familiar path to an all too familiar room. I could feel Pan on the edge of my mind asking if I wanted her here, I told her yes and suddenly a great black cat was gliding along next to me rubbing her furred side against my leg as a gesture of comfort. I reached down and twined my hand in her fur as we reached the door.
“Here we go” I whispered.
I could feel Pan smiling. She missed council life just as much as I had.
I pushed open the door and we strode into the room looking at the faces around me. Kate, Ratigan, Julia, Sarah, and Marguerite. I sighed a little in relief. He wasn’t here, I don’t think I would have handled it well if he’d been in the room and I sent a silent thanks to whomever had thought not to include him. Kate looked up at me and nodded, I thought it had been her. That handled I turned my attention to Marguerite who was now seated at my spot on the table. I stared at her long enough that Kate spoke up.
“You weren’t here. We had to appoint someone to take your place at the table.”
I turned to her gesturing to Ratigan. “You left the chair of fire open.”
“There was no one left here from her house. From yours however we had options.”
“And from those options you chose Marguerite.”
“She was your Temoin, your second in command. The seat was her right.”
I knew all of this but to see her pert little ass denting my cushion made me want to light the world on fire.
“Get out of my chair girl.”
She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes as if to say “make me.” it was an old game between us, one I had not forgotten but had missed playing. I waved my hand and the chair disappeared from beneath her reappearing under me. The look on her face as her butt hit the ground brought a smile to my face. Glaring at me she sent a servant for another less powerful chair and we got down to business.
Doug: Dreams and Memories
Daniel’s eyes snap open in the darkness, physically stopping his body from twitching. He fancies he can smell gunpowder and hear faint screams, but they are just memories. They sometimes come at night, without cause or warning.
Next to him, Irene stirs. He had hoped he hadn’t woken her, but she’d always been a light sleeper. “Dream?” She asks softly, perhaps hoping she hadn’t felt him awake.
“No,” he shakes his head, “memory.” The imagined smell of burning flesh lingers in his nostrils. He sits up, after a moment, Irene does as well, sheet falling from her naked body. She turns, nuzzling his neck. He doesn’t respond. She pulls back to look him in the eyes. They are distant, not seeing.
“Hey.” The ice blue eyes hold steady, “Come back to me.”
They flicker, change to a deeper shade. He forces a smile, “Hi.”
She kisses him then, softly. “You’re here now. You’re safe.”
“I know, I just forget, sometimes.”
“Come back to bed.” She lies down again, pulling him down with her.
He wraps his arms around her, nuzzles her neck softly. She purrs in contentment. His eyes stay open, staring at her hair, her face, marveling in her beauty. This beautiful creature always knows how to bring him back from the night. There is no place he feels safer, no other place where he feels truly at home.
A long time later, he shuts his eyes, and sleeps.
Next to him, Irene stirs. He had hoped he hadn’t woken her, but she’d always been a light sleeper. “Dream?” She asks softly, perhaps hoping she hadn’t felt him awake.
“No,” he shakes his head, “memory.” The imagined smell of burning flesh lingers in his nostrils. He sits up, after a moment, Irene does as well, sheet falling from her naked body. She turns, nuzzling his neck. He doesn’t respond. She pulls back to look him in the eyes. They are distant, not seeing.
“Hey.” The ice blue eyes hold steady, “Come back to me.”
They flicker, change to a deeper shade. He forces a smile, “Hi.”
She kisses him then, softly. “You’re here now. You’re safe.”
“I know, I just forget, sometimes.”
“Come back to bed.” She lies down again, pulling him down with her.
He wraps his arms around her, nuzzles her neck softly. She purrs in contentment. His eyes stay open, staring at her hair, her face, marveling in her beauty. This beautiful creature always knows how to bring him back from the night. There is no place he feels safer, no other place where he feels truly at home.
A long time later, he shuts his eyes, and sleeps.
Meghan: Break
I love you
I hate you
I just want to break you
Make you
Mmmmm…. Can’t you feel that?
Burn
Glory be, and glory me
Can the little people see?
Run girl run cause I will take you
Let me loose you know I’ll save you
Save me?
Oh you make me laugh
Laughing laughing
Down to the farm
Where the walls are white
All the doors locked tight
And these flames won’t dance anymore
Rattle those bars and shake those chains
Don’t you feel it?
I can’t stop it
Oh they’re breaking
Oh they’re crumbling
What? Come back my walls, my precious walls
What have you done?
Not me my love
Not me
you
-Meghan
I hate you
I just want to break you
Make you
Mmmmm…. Can’t you feel that?
Burn
Glory be, and glory me
Can the little people see?
Run girl run cause I will take you
Let me loose you know I’ll save you
Save me?
Oh you make me laugh
Laughing laughing
Down to the farm
Where the walls are white
All the doors locked tight
And these flames won’t dance anymore
Rattle those bars and shake those chains
Don’t you feel it?
I can’t stop it
Oh they’re breaking
Oh they’re crumbling
What? Come back my walls, my precious walls
What have you done?
Not me my love
Not me
you
-Meghan
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Questions?
So, my sex class is having a Q&A session tomorrow, and we're allowed to ask any question even remotely related to sex. So, if you have any questions you want answered, email me the list by 1230 tommorrow, and I'll see what i can do about getting them answered.
-Doug
-Doug
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Doug: I wanna heal.
Imagine a beat that starts slow, then builds in speed and strength until what started as the whisper of the wind in the bushes becomes a howling whirlwind that rips trees from their roots, turns houses into matchsticks,and makes mountains tremble.
This is how I feel right now. I ooze power and energy, and want to wreck shit. i've been drilling for like, two hours, in the rain. Which is miserable, but miserable situations somehow, and I don't know how, bring out the motivated Doug.
Operational Tempo is high for these last two weeks. ROTC is making up for the fact that they have nothing for us to do finals week by tripling on the things we have to do this week. No Worries though. Marines got this shit handled. As usual.
I can't wait to get home, and look forward to it with great intensity. There are things in my way, but like all other marines in history, I will attack these obstacles with speed and intensity.
If the obstacle is in my path, I will move it.
If the obstacle is immovable, I will go over it.
If it is insurmountable I will go around it.
If I cannot go around it or over it I will go under it.
If I cannot do any of these things. I will ask my specialist to break out the Charlie 4.
If that does not remove the obstacle, I will personally tear that obsticle apart with my bare fucking hands.
Yeah, i'm going home.
Try and stop me.
I dare you.
-Doug
"I wanna find something I wanted all along. Somewhere I belong."
-Linkin Park, "Somewhere I Belong."
This is how I feel right now. I ooze power and energy, and want to wreck shit. i've been drilling for like, two hours, in the rain. Which is miserable, but miserable situations somehow, and I don't know how, bring out the motivated Doug.
Operational Tempo is high for these last two weeks. ROTC is making up for the fact that they have nothing for us to do finals week by tripling on the things we have to do this week. No Worries though. Marines got this shit handled. As usual.
I can't wait to get home, and look forward to it with great intensity. There are things in my way, but like all other marines in history, I will attack these obstacles with speed and intensity.
If the obstacle is in my path, I will move it.
If the obstacle is immovable, I will go over it.
If it is insurmountable I will go around it.
If I cannot go around it or over it I will go under it.
If I cannot do any of these things. I will ask my specialist to break out the Charlie 4.
If that does not remove the obstacle, I will personally tear that obsticle apart with my bare fucking hands.
Yeah, i'm going home.
Try and stop me.
I dare you.
-Doug
"I wanna find something I wanted all along. Somewhere I belong."
-Linkin Park, "Somewhere I Belong."
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