
stream of consciousness
Moderator: Orlion
- Worm of Despite
- Lord
- Posts: 9546
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- Location: Rome, GA
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- FizbansTalking_Hat
- <i>Haruchai</i>
- Posts: 715
- Joined: Wed May 05, 2004 10:40 pm
- Location: Ontario Canada
- Worm of Despite
- Lord
- Posts: 9546
- Joined: Sat Oct 26, 2002 7:46 pm
- Location: Rome, GA
- Contact:
Riding the bus one day I found myself in a strange predicament. It was the beginning of the school year and I had just started to a new school district. I sat in the middle of the bus looking straight foward as to not draw attention to myself. I anticipate the time when it will be my turn to get off, but in the mean time I decide to listen to someones conversation. Two seats up a pair of girls discuss the show dawsons creek and why the math teacher has such a bad case of dandruff. Five minutes later I decide they are the worst people on earth. Deciding no longer to listen to them I reach for my notebook to draw a picture of a lizard man body slamming them. To my suprise my notebook is gone. I know instantley that it s taken by someone sitting close by. I turn around and look at the person sitting behind me and suprise there it is. This red headed stepchild was examining my crude drawings of dogs exploding and people skating boarding into volcanoes. "Could I get my notebook from you", I said. "Get out of my face" the red kid replies. I didn't understand why he would say such a thing to me until I then realized that all the older kids were in turn watching listening to him. I asked again " Let me have my notebook." "Turn your big headed self around" he replied. As soon as he said that the whole of the surrounding kids exploded into an "Ohhhhhh!" I starred very briefly into each of their face and I knew what I had to do. I punched him in the side of the head and seconds later he began to cry. I felt so bad that night that I didn't sleep. Years later I asked him about the incident and he told me what i knew all along. The older kids on the bus had put him up to the stealing and the name calling. In the end we both learned a valuable lesson on the cruelty of children.
"I support the destruction of the Think-Tank." - Avatar, August 2008
-
- The Gap Into Spam
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- Joined: Tue Nov 23, 2004 3:32 am
- Location: Middle of a Minnesota Cornfield
One morning I woke up and I had wings. This was kind of cool, but it was depressing to discover that my wings were black bat-type wings rather than pretty white feathery angel wings.
I wondered what the cosmic significance of this was. I mean, if I was going to be given wings, why were they UGLY wings?
I don't know.
It seems unfair.
Life is always unfair.
If life was fair, my ex-boss would fall into a bottomless abyss, where he would fall forever, through a damp chilly space....and some sort of small, angry insect would pursue him down and down and down, stinging him mercilessly.
Ah, if only life was fair.
I wondered what the cosmic significance of this was. I mean, if I was going to be given wings, why were they UGLY wings?
I don't know.
It seems unfair.
Life is always unfair.
If life was fair, my ex-boss would fall into a bottomless abyss, where he would fall forever, through a damp chilly space....and some sort of small, angry insect would pursue him down and down and down, stinging him mercilessly.
Ah, if only life was fair.

Empress Cho hammers the KABC of Evil.
"If Ignorance is Bliss, Ann Coulter must be the happiest woman in the universe!"
Take that, you Varlet!

- Avatar
- Immanentizing The Eschaton
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I realise that we're probably not supposed to reply to anything here, but I have to say that it's a matter of perspective. Personally, I find black, bat-like wings very attractive. In fact, one of my GF's tattoo's is of a fairy perched on a tribal, with just such "demonic" looking wings. Absolutely gorgeous.
And now, to return to the topic, something that probably belongs in the Hall of Gifts, but given the topic...
And now, to return to the topic, something that probably belongs in the Hall of Gifts, but given the topic...
Stream of Consciousness
Perfection
Clarity and
Innocence
Fractured by
Lunacy, the onset
Of understanding
And the imprecations
Of Reality
Across borders composed of
Intertwining lights
And Shadows.
Burning away
The Worlds distinctions
In a conflagration built
On frameworks of
Hatred and reason.
Immaculate conceptions
Shattered by
Uneasy truth and the
Uncomfortable leadings of
The non-entity’s
Inflexible rule.
Crystalline torments drawing
Only psychic Blood,
The colour of Midnight Rain
And puckered Scar-tissue ridges
Raised on the flesh of memory.
Hopes and dreams
Growing in stony soil
The uncaring solidity
Of the World.
Avatar
12/03/1998
In a blizzard, the snow comes sideways through the air. It buries things--cars, streetlamps, old gloves, birds, trees, windowsills. The windowsill outside my bedroom got covered in snow last weekend, but not too badly: I live on the top floor of a building halfway up a steep hill, and the snow blew off the sill before it even settled. I watched the blizzard out of my bedroom window as it enclosed the neighborhood; watched as one by one the streetlamps disappeared, until the only way I could only see the emergency lights outside the firehouse a block away was by squinting out of the corner of my eye. The wind in a blizzard is amazing and tireless. It whistles and screams, and beats against windows like a mad thing trying to escape its nightmares. I woke up in the middle of the night in the middle of the blizzard and realized the wind was making the overhead light fixture shake, even though my building, which is an old one, is made wholly out of brick. I got up to make sure the fixture wasn't going to fall on my head, and realized that I'd left the kitchen window open a crack when I was doing dishes, to let the steam out, so I closed it, and wind stopped shaking the light fixture. Then I went back to bed. When I woke up the next morning, it was still snowing, and the snow and wind had buried cars up to the roof. I stayed in my pajamas all day and ate soup and watched the snow and listened to the wind.
Halfway down the stairs Is the stair where I sit. There isn't any other stair quite like it. I'm not at the bottom, I'm not at the top; So this is the stair where I always stop.
- Worm of Despite
- Lord
- Posts: 9546
- Joined: Sat Oct 26, 2002 7:46 pm
- Location: Rome, GA
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Ich erkenne, dass wir wahrscheinlich nicht angenommen werden, zu irgendetwas hier zu erwidern, aber ich muss sagen, dass es eine Frage der Perspektive ist. Persönlich finde ich Schwarz, schlagholz artige Flügel sehr anziehend. Eigentlich ist Ein von der Tätowierung meines GF von einer Fee hat gehockt auf einem Stammes, mit nur solchen "dämonischen" anschauenden Flügeln. Unbedingt prächtig.
Und jetzt um auf das Thema zurückzugehen, etwas, das wahrscheinlich in der Halle der Geschenke gehört, aber gegeben das Thema..
De geit

山羊
Козел
Und jetzt um auf das Thema zurückzugehen, etwas, das wahrscheinlich in der Halle der Geschenke gehört, aber gegeben das Thema..
De geit
山羊
Козел
"I support the destruction of the Think-Tank." - Avatar, August 2008
- Alynna Lis Eachann
- Lord
- Posts: 3060
- Joined: Wed Mar 20, 2002 8:23 pm
- Location: Maryland, my Maryland
Too bad that goat doesn't have flanking, too. Then it'd kick butt even on the plains. How does a goat flank, though? I used to work at a barn that had a really fat goat running around. Every once in a while it would get too close to one of the mean horses, and the horse would reach down and bite it on the butt. My friend has a horse who does that to cats. It picked one up and kinda flung it around - skinned a patch of hair off the cat's back. My horse goes after cats sometimes, too. What do horses have against cats??
"We probably could have saved ourselves, but we were too damned lazy to try very hard... and too damn cheap." - Kurt Vonnegut
"Now if you remember all great paintings have an element of tragedy to them. Uh, for instance if you remember from last week, the unicorn was stuck on the aircraft carrier and couldn't get off. That was very sad. " - Kids in the Hall
"Now if you remember all great paintings have an element of tragedy to them. Uh, for instance if you remember from last week, the unicorn was stuck on the aircraft carrier and couldn't get off. That was very sad. " - Kids in the Hall
- The Pumpkin King
- <i>Haruchai</i>
- Posts: 629
- Joined: Fri Jan 21, 2005 12:23 am
- Location: If I knew that, I wouldn't be here, would I? ;) Or, really, would I? Gaaaahh...

Pwned.
That reminds me about goblins. Why are they so stupid? Why do they die so often? How does the species survive? These are probably questions we will never fully realize, because, well, goblins will never care to tell anyone, nor notice themselves. Speaking of that, how could any unobservant species survive? We're human, and all, and most people live in a total routine fog, denying their inborn right to open thought and contemplation. Is it the routine that replaces their intelligence? Can they gain it back if the routine is broken? How exactly, if so many of us live in a fog, if so many of us deny what makes us human, could we have prospered as well as we do? Is it the higher-ups in society that decide everything for us, think for themselves, and impose their will upon the populace that's content on blissfully, ignorantly eating doughnuts? Doughnuts are something I like a lot, actually. They're quite fattening, I admit, but there's nothing quite as pleasing sometimes as a fluffy Krispie Kreme doughnut. Speaking of that, and other sweet things, I like tea with my doughnuts. In fact, I'm going to go make tea now. Chai. Mmmm.


Go Godzilla, go!
Jurassic Lizard Superstar Hero
Go Godzilla, go!
For the people, for the planet!
Jurassic Lizard Superstar Hero
Go Godzilla, go!
For the people, for the planet!
-
- The Gap Into Spam
- Posts: 4127
- Joined: Tue Nov 23, 2004 3:32 am
- Location: Middle of a Minnesota Cornfield
Oh, the velvet sky of night.
The cold glitter of stars flung across the heavens like ice chips, pulsing with their alien songs.
The quiet sighs of trees who've watched the urchins wrestle and howl beneath them through the sunlit hours of day.
The bloated moon, yellow as cheese, hanging in the sky like the fertile belly of a sadder, wiser, former believer in the lacy words of a fickle lover.
The shining green eyes of feral cats that stalk and prowl in the shadows and screech their passion songs beneath the windows of plump, neutered house kitties who twitch in their sleep and dream of feline orgies, mutilated rodents, and the smell of blood in the night breeze.
The flutter and swoop of endlessly circling bats about the business of being bats--a few dozen mosquitoes devoured, a street lamp circled again and again, foolish moths fluttering round the lamp snapped up like peanuts in a bar at happy hour.
The watchful owl, seeing all, knowing much, telling nothing, perched in the upper branches of the walnut tree, listening to the sleepy nocturnal mutterings of tasty squirrels. Would that they would come out, he thinks, his sharp beak quivering with appetite.
The scruffy writer framed in the window of the tattered house--shade not drawn, curtains not closed--illuminated only by the bluish screen of the computer, adrift in another world--a world where fairies dance and ogres chant defiant challenges and dragons spread their magnificent reptilian wings to blot out the moon. Hair uncombed, socks unmatched, full to overflowing with story, spilling words like tears, unaware of the ticking of the clock or the shrill squeal of the forgotten tea kettle discharging steam through its wailing aperture.
Ah, night. Dark night. Silent, intimate night.
What secrets she holds, the night. Who can know them all?
The cold glitter of stars flung across the heavens like ice chips, pulsing with their alien songs.
The quiet sighs of trees who've watched the urchins wrestle and howl beneath them through the sunlit hours of day.
The bloated moon, yellow as cheese, hanging in the sky like the fertile belly of a sadder, wiser, former believer in the lacy words of a fickle lover.
The shining green eyes of feral cats that stalk and prowl in the shadows and screech their passion songs beneath the windows of plump, neutered house kitties who twitch in their sleep and dream of feline orgies, mutilated rodents, and the smell of blood in the night breeze.
The flutter and swoop of endlessly circling bats about the business of being bats--a few dozen mosquitoes devoured, a street lamp circled again and again, foolish moths fluttering round the lamp snapped up like peanuts in a bar at happy hour.
The watchful owl, seeing all, knowing much, telling nothing, perched in the upper branches of the walnut tree, listening to the sleepy nocturnal mutterings of tasty squirrels. Would that they would come out, he thinks, his sharp beak quivering with appetite.
The scruffy writer framed in the window of the tattered house--shade not drawn, curtains not closed--illuminated only by the bluish screen of the computer, adrift in another world--a world where fairies dance and ogres chant defiant challenges and dragons spread their magnificent reptilian wings to blot out the moon. Hair uncombed, socks unmatched, full to overflowing with story, spilling words like tears, unaware of the ticking of the clock or the shrill squeal of the forgotten tea kettle discharging steam through its wailing aperture.
Ah, night. Dark night. Silent, intimate night.
What secrets she holds, the night. Who can know them all?

Empress Cho hammers the KABC of Evil.
"If Ignorance is Bliss, Ann Coulter must be the happiest woman in the universe!"
Take that, you Varlet!

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- Alynna Lis Eachann
- Lord
- Posts: 3060
- Joined: Wed Mar 20, 2002 8:23 pm
- Location: Maryland, my Maryland
Continuing in a similar vein... Slash Slash Slash Slash Slash Slash Slash
Slash Slash Slash Slash Slash... and some Het Het Het for variety.
I should really go check on my horse. Current weather at Washington-Dulles International Airport (Last Update on Jan 26, 5:51 pm EST):
Overcast
46°F
(8°C)
Low will be 20°F. To go or not to go. To blanket or not to blanket? Is he wearing a blanket? How sad will he be if I take it off? How sad will I be if I use a quarter tank of gas to find out it's already off?
Slashfic... drool.
Slash Slash Slash Slash Slash... and some Het Het Het for variety.
I should really go check on my horse. Current weather at Washington-Dulles International Airport (Last Update on Jan 26, 5:51 pm EST):
Overcast
46°F
(8°C)
Low will be 20°F. To go or not to go. To blanket or not to blanket? Is he wearing a blanket? How sad will he be if I take it off? How sad will I be if I use a quarter tank of gas to find out it's already off?
Slashfic... drool.
"We probably could have saved ourselves, but we were too damned lazy to try very hard... and too damn cheap." - Kurt Vonnegut
"Now if you remember all great paintings have an element of tragedy to them. Uh, for instance if you remember from last week, the unicorn was stuck on the aircraft carrier and couldn't get off. That was very sad. " - Kids in the Hall
"Now if you remember all great paintings have an element of tragedy to them. Uh, for instance if you remember from last week, the unicorn was stuck on the aircraft carrier and couldn't get off. That was very sad. " - Kids in the Hall
- kevinswatch
- "High" Lord
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KevinsWatch, I like your comic strip. It makes great sense out of Lord Foul's Bane!
Since 1983 when I have been reading the Chronicles I had always had the vain hope that Thomas Covenant would get his head together, stop the denial, and be grateful for the extremely rare opportunity of being an Avatar.
Instead his unbelief gets in the way, and turns down the golden offer of Avatar on a plate. Maybe he was too wrapped up being a leper and outcast...
BTW I am reading The Runes of The Earth, am halfway and finding it a great read, wont say anythiing about it here...
Since 1983 when I have been reading the Chronicles I had always had the vain hope that Thomas Covenant would get his head together, stop the denial, and be grateful for the extremely rare opportunity of being an Avatar.
Instead his unbelief gets in the way, and turns down the golden offer of Avatar on a plate. Maybe he was too wrapped up being a leper and outcast...
BTW I am reading The Runes of The Earth, am halfway and finding it a great read, wont say anythiing about it here...
I recognize that we not probably are supposed to reciprocate to anything here, but I must say that it is a question of the perspective. Personally I find black, bat good wings very dressing. Actually is squatted an of the tattoo of my GF of a fairy on a tribe, with only such "demonic" regarding wings. Unconditionally grandly.
In order now around to be due to the subject, something, that probably in the hall of the gifts belongs given, but the subject.

goat
coat
shoat
moat
stoat
boat
In the early morning, before the sun rises over the bank of clouds that rises like an asbestos blanket out at sea, there is a half-light that glows, and in glowing, chills you to the bone. At 7:30 in the morning, the breeze is so icy it cuts your face like ritual scarring and you know it'll get worse as the day goes on. And all you want in life is to be someplace where the sun sets into the ocean instead of rising out of it, someplace where multitudes of kites sail on a warm breeze like a choir of angels, someplace where somebody calls your name and you run to them, laughing, and they hand you a stick with a roasted marshmallow on it.
In order now around to be due to the subject, something, that probably in the hall of the gifts belongs given, but the subject.

goat
coat
shoat
moat
stoat
boat
In the early morning, before the sun rises over the bank of clouds that rises like an asbestos blanket out at sea, there is a half-light that glows, and in glowing, chills you to the bone. At 7:30 in the morning, the breeze is so icy it cuts your face like ritual scarring and you know it'll get worse as the day goes on. And all you want in life is to be someplace where the sun sets into the ocean instead of rising out of it, someplace where multitudes of kites sail on a warm breeze like a choir of angels, someplace where somebody calls your name and you run to them, laughing, and they hand you a stick with a roasted marshmallow on it.
Halfway down the stairs Is the stair where I sit. There isn't any other stair quite like it. I'm not at the bottom, I'm not at the top; So this is the stair where I always stop.
- Worm of Despite
- Lord
- Posts: 9546
- Joined: Sat Oct 26, 2002 7:46 pm
- Location: Rome, GA
- Contact:

Hören Sie auf, um sich Es auszudrücken’s machend mich sehr böse Ist ruhig wenig eine besten Wörter sind
verlassen Zu intelligenten Gemütern
Kommen Sie jetzt kommt jetzt kommt jetzt Nur hängt Ihren Kopf Annimmt es Und es’ll ist aller richtig Don’t hat
hinaufgehabt einen Kampf Don’t erhält jenes Aussehen des Widerstands In Ihren Augen
home.planet.nl/~faase009/D7DI.html
home.planet.nl/~faase009/D7DI.html
home.planet.nl/~faase009/D7DI.html
Not with a bang but a whimper.
"I support the destruction of the Think-Tank." - Avatar, August 2008