i hate nexopia, never use it, and ill delete it. maybe not right now but soon enough.

i miss the snow... the chil that hardened my nipples...

the strange scent in the air that would imply that all the crap in it would have gotten to cold and fell lower then your nose...

i miss the memories i have of winter... and i slip into bitter sweet nostalgia yet again this morrning...

i wonder if ill ever talk to her again...

sometimes you treasure every tear shed.

sometimes people forget how to feel, and how to cry.

that is... untill they meet someone or something that pushes their hearts to the threashhold of aching hopelessness....

...sometimes when you cant see anything you remind yourslf how you never knew you had so many tears to cry.

its at this moment one should be thankful that have anything to cry for...


i know why i cry... and i choose to feel. i wont ignore it. i will feel it. and ill be damn thankfull i have the depth to appriciate it.

crying...

the reminder that we are all mortal. and that pain is as thickle as love. spokes on the same wheel.

"no woman, no cry."
-bob marley.

maybe one day...

ill have my opportunity to allow a glint of magnificence sparle from right under my eye...

i miss my friend...

i stay awake more times then if needed to count them. i miss you and see you with the firey passion of a season lost in time.

i see you right infront of me... and i cant recognize you at all...

and i dont care.


but i think of the friend iv loved and how i used to feel just having them nearby as a friend... just having them at hand to talk to.

every amazeing poet has tragedy. i should learn to accept its unfairness.

today is a shit.

and tommorow is an asshole.

today at 12, the shit would have entered the asshole.


this is confuseing.

i like posting negative things here beacuse fewer people read it.

today i feel like shit. i fel like theres no fucking point. at all. im plauged by thoughts. and i have no will to share any of them. beacuse no one has the will to get in touch.

i hate today.

its a wonderously shity day.

i feel torn down and beaten. and i am.
my dreams are like a tease. showing me a life where i havent pushed away countless people with my attitude.

my over bearing attitude
my passion.

i should amputate.

or no...

i should amputate others around me out of my life. ill embrace my passion and the art that follows in a lonley melencholy. fuck katelyn. and her willingness to destroy my spirit.

fuck autumn and her pesimism. i hope she chokes on her next big judgment.

fuck lynne and her peice of shit shows of friendship. its worth the spit on my shoe.

but most importantly fuck me. im not even worth the air i breath.

i exist in nothing.

Brrrah.

rain is makeing my mood soggy.

im just about ready to call it quits.

the title sums it up, but not to long ago, when i was doing som research on wikkipedia into "hallamshire" (this area of land that was named after hallam on the account that we where a very respected community member before the conquest of brittan by alaxander)

apparently we where land owners. and live in an area of hallamshire that (after the conquest) was to be caled Loxly. which is supposed to be the birthplace of robin of loxly, the missplaced son of the old kings of scottland who are supposed to be alot of my fammily herritage is from. (on the account of so much scottish shit kicking it around my relatives's house's)

we are anglo-saxon. meaning norse, or norwigen mainly... i dont understand how the scottish got in there... viking scotts. anywho.

the hallams are descendents of the old kings of scottland. and robin of loxly was the son of one of them. and thats the story.

nifty huh?

i think i kinda look like a viking. i should get a beard. and run around chanting leif erricson.

OMG!

the girl i really really like nowendays is related to leif erricson! how awsome is that?
we should get it on and make tiny little viking babies. that would kick so much ass.

i think if i went to hallamshire and if i told the king of the time that i wanted to be with the decendent of leif erricson. he would approve.

------------------------------

weird story i just remembered.

that i read that this man said he was cursed to never eat this traditional african dish of something chicken. so his friend made it anyways and didnt tell him it was that dish.

the man ate it and left happily. a year later his friend confessed that he had eaten the dish that was cursed. and its documented the man started to shake violently and then he went into cardiac arrest and died within 20 minutes.

this just proves that mind over mater. is real. someone can actually stop their own heart if they belive it.
(readers digest, mysteries and unexplained happenings.)

i really wish a big shooting star would come and squish me.

i hate this shit.

so tonight i was like... na... i dont wanna let someone else use my camera...

and i failed to get any photos of my first fire-breathing performance.

bah
im a silly person.. why do i have a camera if its not goingt o get a picture of me pukeing after a bit of fuel trickles down my throat!

damnit.

circumstances abroad and elements of nature a bore.
one cant help but meander threw life looking for something more.

cheating, fleeting, lieing, and stealing...
caress to impress, no one knows your listening to hear her heart beating.
intention for good is embraced less and less...
are you really shocked to find out theres nothing more?

words fall aimlessly to the floor... their stuck there...
conpounded, sourounded by others of miss lore, searching, for the way out of their own miseries beseaching on the walls of their hearts more and more.

never again thought about....
never attempt to understand or to understand without doubt.


its maddening! simply maddening!
fuck it. No seriously fuck it.

YOUR insane if you think theres anyone keeping score....

a strange feeling... he remembers something he saw out fo the corner of his eye. and he wonders if theres a reason for his remembering...

he looks at the doorknob, its unlocked...

...He locks it.

his finger scarcely moved off the button before the door and the handle started to rattle and bang violently.

muffled voices took over the sound of the shower, it was like they where in his head.
the room seems to breath... the door seems to eep into the room. the lines of definition all come together to make the room alive...

he falls to the floor.

he wakes up... the water still running... the door still locked... urin is still in the toilet...

what happened...? the water in the shower was cold now...

and theres soemthing differant... something errie... everything is clean... to clean. no hairs stuck to towls or bars of soap. no soap. no shampoo... everything is gone... no towles despite those that where hung up. no toilet paper... despite that which was visible...

he shuts off the shower... and looks for his boxers... which no longer exist...

he goes to touch the doorknob, still wearing nothing...
he feels a warm breath on his foot comeing from out the bottom of the door.... in pulses... he hears a low reverberation comeing from the other side...

"...thats not my living room..."
he sinks to the ground and looks out threw the 'tiny fraction of an inch' crack between his floor and door.

red emenated dimly from the darkness. at first he thought maybe a red light... but then changed his mind when he noticed his sea foam green rug had changed color in the time he was out; to a deep crimson red spotted with black flth...

"this looks like what someone would expect a murders house to look like...."

he stood up to look again around his small bathroom...
a few minutes pass, and he finds nothing.

a long rumble shakes the floor under his feet and vibrate his body...

"im scared to open the door" he hears the voice in his head say.
he looks at his hands...

as he watches hes astonished to see red platches apear up his hands and form into intricate but dark looking symbols.
his fast, and unbeliveing blinking and shakeing of his head left him looking at his normal hands once again...

"am i on acid?" he wonders aloud. as the floor under his feet shift, he feels the room become liquid again. the door slowly took over all his vision, he was in awe as he watched, his bathroom went back and forth from a hellish version of itself to the opposite.

he closed his eyes, and he felt inside of his chest for the spinning to stop...

he opened his eyes to see, not a comfortable life. but a bathroom full of decay and gutted fixtures. red stains on everything, like rust. water damaged walls,
and what once was his sliding glass curtain for the shower has become a gratting...

the door rattled violently, "whats going on in there?" came a voice on the other side. "youv been in there awhile.. dont make me force myself in!"

before he could answer the door flung open and darkness engulfed him as he screamed.

he was back in the overly clean room...

"im going to open the door" he thought to himself. .words cannot describe the horrific things that attacked his senses on the other side.

today i feel lame.

yippie, onward my cute fluffy ball of darkness! bound into the midst of them! they cant stop us! we have what they desire, the enchanted dryer lint of bob marlys pocket'ss!

with our doobie laiden sunglasses they wont be able to see us threw this huge cloud of anti-sobriety!

YEEEAAAAW! FLUFF BALL! YEEAAAAW!
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2nd attempt.

so today im at home... im bored... iv tried so much to update my youtube but its such a piss off... a video of me contact juggling downtown infront of the art gallery.

you know when im just standing, not saying anything... keeping to my ball, youd think i wasent insane.

my friend wants me to come to this party thing... and meet this really small easy chick.. nice...nice... i think im good lol.

today i think iv been annoying a certen new person who i just started talking to.

i read her blog and commented on most of the entries... not that theres alot... but my god... am i ever non stop hyper drive adhd today... *buzzes* it feels like theres red hotness right under my skin. im ready to burst forth!

RAWR!!!!!
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my subtle nature when it comes to critisim is barely even acknoledged...

i wouldent dress in the way any author or movie maker or anyone can imagine. take for instance vampiric culture. there is none.

vampires where slowly invented as a means to catagorize the people who where sociopaths of their era.

the imaginations of people are so wonderous... why cant someone just feel their way into their own?

bah. creativity isent in the expression of an idea. its the idea itself!