Elly... we traded countless songs on YIM when we talked. Even though there's other more obvious songs that have deeply linked to you. This one brings me that unexpected smile of softer, calmer times.
The Corrs
Only when I sleep.
And you Kevin. The moment I heard this one on tiktok dance vids... It reminded me of you. Rest in peace dear buddy.
Pascal Letoublon
Friendships
Saints Row Soundtrack
Laser Dreams.
Always reminds me of you, Mademoiselle.
Especially when I'm driving maniacally and crashing into everything.
I cried.
I expected a typical suspense mystery. This was not that. Not at all. I had heard of the book and planned to eventually read it. Then the movie was made years ago and I avoided it. I finally gave in and here we are. This quote it seems, from my brief search is not in the book. What can you do? Either way... I expected some horrific ending like in Law Abiding Citizen where that
Pick-me Girl ending was given to what otherwise would have been a refreshing movie. But no. I was pleasantly, heart wrenchingly disappointed. I didn't expect such an ending and I was given twice over cause to cry. At the strange adherence to why we adore fantasy in any medium... and this line... which hit far closer than I thought a simple movie could, within me.
" I have seen the fracture of the human soul. So many broken lives, so much pain and anger giving way to the poison of deep grief, until one crime became many. I have always wanted to believe that man is rational and civilized. My very existence depends upon this hope, upon order and method and the little grey cells... but now perhaps I am asked... to listen instead... to my heart."
I've grown to hate the world, for following its rules and have been given nothing but destruction and heartache for it.
And yet I cling to a hope that even I cannot explain nor fathom.
My silly self just tried signing into YIM and AIM... hoping to be able to see a list of sn's. No dice. I've done this every few years. Still I hoped for a different outcome. Do yourself a favor, if you think any one social place will last forever or its info. MAil yourself a list of your contacts... I thought YIM and AOL would always be around. Or at the very least info would be available even if you couldn't sign in. I might have talked about this before. It just blows losing contact with so many over the years. Even just on here... life takes over and threads just snap. Food for thought while hindsight nearly blinds me.
Horizon Zero Dawn. A game with a female protagonist. Which was motion captured by a female model. So... Is it really a leap to at least TRY to hire this same person for the Live-action film adaptation?
Damnit watching Lance in this would have been AMAZING.
~Style I suppose~
Iambic pentameter be damned. I swore I liked it as a teen.
Tried to use it as much as possible.
Then entered Poe and out the window it did go.
I've tried and forced and tried these beats of ten.
But found constriction and embellishment to end.
No smoother rhythm nor did rhyme produce my needed steam
but in poecy written I found my peace at fourteen.
My little obsession lately. My little bundle of focus and dreams. This little word that I had all but ignored in my travels...
Ebb.
Oh me oh my what can I pull from your wonderfully odd simme...try...
You know that feeling? Do you?
That feeling of yearning to share with another? Show them that ever slightest part of you, through a book? a song? A movie or even a conversation in a show? Why that is such an important and lasting part of you? Why you WANT this other to know it, even if it has nothing to do with you? Just to know that also know it just exists?
But...
A large portion of my poems were inspired by being on here. Some were never even linked to this place, but being here made me feel more introspective and creative. I can't quite pin-point why, but there it is. Sure as years progressed and emotions tallied I wrote about more than a choice few I've met on here... but I was writing poems long before I found this place.
Found it while searching for Vampire poetry, no less.
And I'm so very thankful I did find this place. It's shaped some aspects of my life and helped with others. Then journals. I have one other place I write but that place holds a strange feel for me. I rarely go there. But here? this red and black void to which I put my words. has always been.... welcoming? of sorts? I hardly post for "views" or reactions. I do post for my amusement. As you might have imagined, I simply love reading myself write.
Whatever anyone thinks and decides to believe about me... I have been writing on here for myself... far longer than I was thinking of them. IF I even do think of them. And here... I keep catching the "need for an audience" vibe check from, who the fuck knows.
First it was people pleaser, which begs the question... why aren't you pleased? And now... I NEED an audience? It's strange really, to get pegged as such and all the while... NOT needing an audience for every little thing? It would appear that... as it's simplest, journaling here is "seeking an audience" period. Yet... if another does so... it's their right and "safe space" to do so?
If they write about their everyday goings on? That's not audience seeking. If they share a tragedy they are living through, that's not audience seeking. If they share a personally happy moment, that's not audience seeking. If they vent their emotions about any particular topic, they are not seeking an audience. If they share their weight-loss journey, they are not seeking an audience. I just get this very distinctly biased feeling when that silly little phrase is meted out. If I find myself needing to vent my emotions, if I don't vent according to their standards, then I am doing it wrong. But I will ask.... how often do you find yourself needing to VENT about the good times you are having, because you aren't feeling heard? It's not a trick question. And if you don't like the answer... well... There you have it. Meh I lost myself. This isn't even about that.
It's about how much VR gives me comfort TO write. About whatever. I log in and somehow poem ideas just enter my eyes and I write parts in my head, while rating... or reading journals. It just helps. Very strange. I think so, anyway. I have a ton of ideas, things that keep evolving. Changing. As I learn even the slightest newest word. I rework a line and the whole poem gets redone or even erased. Because what I want is somewhere in there... in the ocean of words. As I try to paint with letters... I look at this black canvas and wonder just fills me. Sometimes I have to use the inspiration to work through my own struggles which drown out poems. They become languid... sticky. Behind the disgusting emotions I'm made to feel while dealing with life. The constant want to write again peels through these horrid scabs and I find small hopes again and again... Sadly... I have to bleed to find them. Once over and again. And then... I try to find balance between what I feel, and what I want to convey. Most times I feel disgusting. Stuck. Unhappy. Tired. But I want to write something pleasant... with an uptick. A beat beyond the depths I'd rather not be swimming. And then... I get enraged. I get defiant. Angry at my circumstance and then... I get sarcastic. This... inevitably infects my writing and I end up writing these angry, devious and abhorring poems that explore probably 3 motions. Hate. Anger. Sorrow. Far more often than I would ever want. But I get it out for the sake of writing... and show myself that I shall not get utterly defeated from writing what I will. Sometimes A poem is raped by overflow of garbage... or maybe I actually wanted to write something dark. As long as I get it out... I'm better for it. Then, after internal monologue after internal speech, I end up erasing or boiling down that train of emotions into a singular line.... and then I form a poem around that line. And let my fingertips work it into whatever feels WRITE. --get it? Lol... anyway. Puns are another great thing for poets to use. Not that I consider myself one. I do try to one day be called that by a person whose year, month, day or even moment was bettered by reading my uncontrolled emotional blurts of language. And find that they... aren't as alone as they might made themselves think they are.
Vr pulls this from me and I love it. I may not get to ever post is as much as it happens in my head... But it's there. And VR for me, been the place for it. And I hope that never changes.
if you've got something particular to say about all this... you probably aren't blocked and can get a message to me. If you're not feeling cowardly that is. Otherwise, Get bent.
COMMENTS
Agree, this place feels safe to post as we please. Always write what your soul calls you to, if it makes you feel something then that's all that matters. As it comes in your head, sometimes ruminating on the thought will help it stick for whenever you're ready to write it out. Us writers gotta stick together. :)
Orc message after the Battle of the Five Armies: "Got some terrible news, here. Terrible. Once again the filthy Humans sided with the Dwarves who had help from those sanctimonious bastards the Elves who were rescued by - and I am not making this up - the damned giant Eagles to slaughter thousands of our brethren in what we should all be calling the battle to unfairly gang up on the Orcs."
Reads in Uruk-Hai orc voice: "The boys know the big man's powerful livid and wants a word. This sack of dung might know where his thief pals are hiding."
lmao
"Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name."
Heh... Too true Moonie. Too true. "If you don't want to be the fool, don't play the part."
Me? Hell I've played that part to a freakin' T. I mean I don't twist up when someone says they just want to be left alone into a 'woe is me' and then attack them for it... but hey. I try to live my life so I don't have regrets. Few understand that. One thing about that philosophy is... you have absolutely zero control on how others behave, and they can make you regret things. The thoughts enter, but soon they leave and all that is left is to learn. Learn how to be better how to be a person others would think of when they need help. Someone they can count on. No matter what.
I've come up short. For whatever reasons I can muster, the fact remains. I have certainly failed. Disappointed and hurt key people I swore I'd try my damnedest to only love and protect. Are there excuses or people to blame? Absolutely not. There isn't any one person to blame for my broken ways of thinking. Hell... I argue in circles because I am in a constant fight with myself. Questioning if I'm taking into account the other persons point of view as thoroughly as I can. I still fail. There ARE things I will fervently refute... but being a Narcissist? No. The more time has elapsed the more I find too many similarities in the descriptions to my character and even though I try... I just fail. I adore arguing... but to destroy and cause pain? No. It's the joyful kicks and smart bickering that gives birth to lovely little memories that I adore with all my... putrid, horrid heart. Painful, hurtful, hostile disagreements they drain me and are exhausting but I do endure them for the sake of learning... NOT for the sake of defeating, NOT for the sake of breaking the other person. NOT for the sake of hurting the other.
But for those whom I've hurt and broke during those... there are few to no words to express how I am sorry for not being more careful and kind. I dwell the real arguments, not in a negative sense. but trying to learn how i could have handled them and been better in every possible way. Treat people better.
Few things hurt me to my core than being described and told that I don't understand nor take others into consideration- That I don't reflect on anything but my next response. But what does that actually look like? I can say all day that I try. But that doesn't mean anything. Because I could be lying. It doesn't mean anything because that's not how I come across. That is NOT How I am read and understood. And that is entirely my fault. I TRY so hard... to be careful with the words i choose... and I win the heaped commendation of being manipulative. Now... even though I have TONS of questions as to WHO and HOW i've manipulated ANYONE... the fact remains that I left that impression. and THAT matters more to me. Because those that describe me this way... can't just be spouting nonsense and imaginative phrases for fun. They really do feel this way. And again... I did that. They HAVE to be right about me... and what is there for me to do than consider these words, for years. The only thing I have ever reached in lost thoughts about this is... TO BE BETTER. To try harder. To learn. And I truly.... painfully seem to just keep failing. No one is to blame for that but me. And I keep saying that I try. More for my benefit than any readers. Because despite what i try, reflect. Write. Think. Feel. Put into Prose and Poetry... it is all considered a lie. A manipulation. Which... is depressing but it is what it is. And I live with that. I don't ignore it. I don't post about it as much as my rants and negative feelings for which I seemingly have NO safe space to put.
Which is strange really. Other's write and paint and expel their internalized thoughts how they wish and it's called having an outlet. But I write these, for me. Piling line after line of this horrid spew. And somehow my thoughts... don't amount to thinking about anything at all. As if I were putting all this energy, for years, into words. Language. My absolutely favorite thing... just to put up an elaborate, cosmic false persona. Which... I wish was true. Because that would mean that I don't feel anything, that my heartache didn't exist and I could simply stop writing my fake emotions into rhyme and rhetoric. So Yes. I am flawed. I have been hurtful to others. I AM and have tried to dwell on that... Which is why I question.... how different people... see me in different ways. Why they sometimes contradict, and sometimes they agree. I Think about that... ceaselessly. But strangely enough... my musings on these very issues... have been twisted into playing the victim. So, what does true reflection and contemplation look like? What can a person do to cast even a shadow of doubt on what another has decided to be my eternally flawed character?
There is no answer.
I don't want the answer.
Because I don't want to be given the steps, to a dance I'll be condemned for dancing. I will try MY way. Because my goal is to actually grow and be better. Not seem like I'm trying to placate any one person or conquer ONE persons hill they desire to die on.
No one is offering solutions to how I can do better. Nor be better. Nor do they have to. But they sure are quickened to retell me what I've been telling myself and fearing about myself in the mirror for years. Things I've been struggling with for so long, the exhaustion is commonplace for me. I doubt myself and every step I take. I second guess and doubt again. That I'm a beast. A monster for every words I've ever chosen. Every choice I've made. That I am so smart, and deceiving. Manipulative. Controlling.
And I believe them. I believe every word.
Because when someone tells me something different. Describes me in any positive way... I have SO MANY questions. Doubts. And I go to war with myself. Wondering just how I do that to myself. And how Am I tricking or convincing so many others, that I am anything other than the terrible words I've said to myself and others have echoed.
I'm not very smart. Never have been. Nothing in my life reflects any sort of viable intelligence. I'm just a kid, playing with words when the lucky moment strikes. I'm pathetic when it comes to wit and having conversations without them turning awkward or into arguments. I'm a monster, deserving of any ill thoughts flung my way regardless of how true they may or may not be. I'm callous. And lack an egregious amount of common sense. My emotional maturity leaves much to be desired. I thought I knew how to love. But that changes with the person. No two people can ever loved the same way. Small lessons I swore I was learning.
Believe me when I tell you... I hate myself. Always have.
But... I also LOVE the experiences I've had that bring everlasting smiles to my face. And those... are provided by others who, quite adamantly, disagree with every reason I have to hate myself.
But what's intriguing is how some take time teach me... show me... my flaws.
And get me to understand.
And others... just want to hurt and destroy.
Again... the internal war ensues.
I AM FLAWED.
I HAVE FAILED.
I WILL FAIL.
So I shall keep living these moments where something keeps trying to kill, what is already Slain.
If you know your convictions to be lead straight and true, and you desire to kill me.
All you have to do, is say the word. And have me erased. Don't toy with your food, lest you become it.
Just remember, no regrets.
I can explain and question every last little thing. With whoever dares to give me the time of day to actually have a voice.
But if the shrouds is what is chosen, and my silence preferred.
All Slain can ask you is this... "What manner of reflection and action will please you, that you don't already doubt?"
And Slain will quote himself:
"Know me well enough to call me a hypocrite, otherwise all you are doing is making yourself feel better."
Because... after all...
this is all about him.
The guy playing the eternal fool. A court jester. The unashamed Joker...
Ooh. Ooh. It's even in my utterly accidental name choice.
Tell me, who is ever Slain, that isn't a victim?
You didn't think I picked that name because I see myself as a god, did you?
Victim, signing off.
Here... let me help:
InB4, This is all lies
and that
and that.
and that.
and that.
and that too.
COMMENTS
I cannot speak on others experiences with you, I can only go on what I've dealt with, and after over a decade of knowing you, I'm pretty confident with my view of you. I've never seen you as conniving or manipulative. Yes, you do tend to argue in circles at times, but I don't see that as a fault, really. We may not be as close as we once we're, that being mostly my own fault, but I value your friendship so very much. You are a good, decent person, Slain. Don't let the opinions of others drag you down, because they don't matter. And the whole saying you're a narcissist, are any of those people claiming such a clinical psychologist? If not, they shouldn't be throwing shit like that around like it means anything. It's just a stupid word they use to make themselves feel better. Keep your chin up, sir.
If my manner of coping with humor bothers you, perhaps the misery you wish upon me deserves some exploring.
Hate is a very powerful thing. Wield it with love.
~It Happens~ July 2011
Just when you find an ease in breathing,
Someone comes along unseeming.
Wraps your eyes in lustrous gleaming,
and sends your lungs for breath a pleading.
Think its not thy usual quirk.
and in wonder lies a grinning smirk.
Smile a grin and smirk a quirk
For every flaw, at her I smirk.
Her laugh a common rarity
Her voice a noisy Sonnet.
Her looks comparable to many
Just when you find an ease in breathing,
Someone comes along unseeming.
Wraps your eyes in lustrous gleaming,
and sends your lungs for breath a pleading.
And in their vanity
their existence upon it
my stimulated Heart and mind fails that many
so... strength of soul and heart of Mind
Won me over LENGTHS of time before her
gaze entered mine.
So is it You or I? Or both as we write from
my mind.. to my mind.
Just when you find an ease in breathing,
Someone comes along unseeming.
Wraps your eyes in lustrous gleaming,
and sends your lungs for breath a pleading.
I wrote something. I wrote it... back around 2022. Another excerpt from my sporadic and very unfinished stories. Stories I very well may be writing the rest of my life, like my father.
A conversation between three brothers, and a close friend. A scathing, complicated exchange, in hopes of solving a problem. A problem they all had invariably dealt with, but unique to their particular station. As you might expect, this has been an ongoing internal self examination, 'put to paper' as it were, for any number of reasons. The timing however is what intrigues me. It is now over 2 years old... and yet were I to post it now... it would seem reactionary. And Slain hates to be seen as someone who oh so simply, and habitually.... reacts.
Laykah, Tigrea, Laink... and Slain... Very amicably discuss their concerns.... About their choices and lets just say... they less than like one another. For they are all... quite broken.
As for the excerpt. It's somewhere.
COMMENTS
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Surreal
18:28 Jan 20 2025
One of my favorites of theirs. I still listen to The Corrs. :)