That is some
head spinning
mind reeling
tear jerking
nose running
lip smacking
neck snapping
arm flailing
body working
lung bursting
stomach pumping
thigh burning
feet tingling
action.
((i think i was thinking about 24 in pre-calc again, lol.))
Sunday, May 31, 2009
New
wherever i go,
whatever i do,
the people surround me.
and whenever it is,
or whichever i see,
the one want is not here.
why is this one,
this singular person,
so important to be with?
why do i feel this,
a constant need,
to be with this person?
to maybe hold this person in my arms?
to maybe break down those physical barriers?
those barriers so carefully built?
to maybe understand our minds?
to maybe break down those mental barriers?
those barriers so meticulously placed?
((i was at the park, sitting on a hill. i'm turning into a hopeless romantic, i swear.))
whatever i do,
the people surround me.
and whenever it is,
or whichever i see,
the one want is not here.
why is this one,
this singular person,
so important to be with?
why do i feel this,
a constant need,
to be with this person?
to maybe hold this person in my arms?
to maybe break down those physical barriers?
those barriers so carefully built?
to maybe understand our minds?
to maybe break down those mental barriers?
those barriers so meticulously placed?
((i was at the park, sitting on a hill. i'm turning into a hopeless romantic, i swear.))
Thursday, May 21, 2009
story. because curtis HAD to suggest i write a zombie story. And the plotlines wouldnt leave me alone!
a moan, and a shriek, and the constant sound of dragging feet up the stairs.
i hear them through the door of the abandoned apartment. i had thought that the penthouse suite of the Hungdon Place Hotel would have more weapons in it. I mean, we had been in this war for what, ten and a half years? and this silly suite has absolutely nothing to take care of them. Not even a pistol. I search the room throuoghly, checking all drawers, under all rugs, under all tables. When i was sure all of the room was devoid of fighting impliments, i start to build a wall in front of the door, to try to keep them out. After chucking the last oriental rug onto the pile in front of the door, i scan the once polished wood floors and the creamy-white walls for something to fight them with. My eyes fall on a wooden bracket with long wooden bars on it, mounted on the wall next to an oriental wall scroll. The wall scroll has a group of large japanese symbols on it- the text underneath say "strength against all odds." These things will have to do, i tell myself with a grimace. i lift a pole from the bracket, it seems so fragile. Great. A horde of zombies versus me with a three fragile little sticks. I test the longest rod for strength, pressing it against my knee. It bends, but doesnt break. I start to swing the thing around, and the end goes flying off into the kitchen with a clang. A clang...? The end i am holding is hollow, which means... I go to the kitchen, where a four-foot samauri sword lies, shining on the ground. "strength against all odds?" How... epic. Hope returns, a tiny, already dying hummingbird in my chest.
The sound of them schlepping themselves up the stairs is a little annoying, so i go out to stand on the balcony. The once over-populated city is deserted. The gray buildings loom overhead, the sky is a beautiful green-blue colour. All of the morox scooters lined up in the parking station remind me of a past life. The life where everyone drove their morox to work, parked it, and took the elevator up to their floor for their profession. The life where i had a nice house, with a nice family, in a nice city. I had a nice job test-driving autopilot bartemoras. It was a little boring, but flying around in the air without a worry, doing the daily crossword while gliding over Yattenore at supersonic speeds, it always made me... content. I was a content person ten and a half years ago. Until the undead decided to make their appearance.
They went for the government first, infecting the people closest to wORlD lEadeR. when it got so high up so quickly, there was panicking in the streets. People blamed the olden-god, the olden-satan. Most blamed the failure of the force-field the week before around the hq of wORlL lEadeR. The optimistic said it would pass quickly, the hopeful said that it wouldnt affect them, the realists prepared themselves, and the pessimistic said everyone would most likely die- or become undead. Well, the optimists and hopefuls died off quickly. Only us realists and pessimists survived on tough luck, good weaponry, and the ability to think rationally. But life came with a price.
It was no longer a real life.
i hear them through the door of the abandoned apartment. i had thought that the penthouse suite of the Hungdon Place Hotel would have more weapons in it. I mean, we had been in this war for what, ten and a half years? and this silly suite has absolutely nothing to take care of them. Not even a pistol. I search the room throuoghly, checking all drawers, under all rugs, under all tables. When i was sure all of the room was devoid of fighting impliments, i start to build a wall in front of the door, to try to keep them out. After chucking the last oriental rug onto the pile in front of the door, i scan the once polished wood floors and the creamy-white walls for something to fight them with. My eyes fall on a wooden bracket with long wooden bars on it, mounted on the wall next to an oriental wall scroll. The wall scroll has a group of large japanese symbols on it- the text underneath say "strength against all odds." These things will have to do, i tell myself with a grimace. i lift a pole from the bracket, it seems so fragile. Great. A horde of zombies versus me with a three fragile little sticks. I test the longest rod for strength, pressing it against my knee. It bends, but doesnt break. I start to swing the thing around, and the end goes flying off into the kitchen with a clang. A clang...? The end i am holding is hollow, which means... I go to the kitchen, where a four-foot samauri sword lies, shining on the ground. "strength against all odds?" How... epic. Hope returns, a tiny, already dying hummingbird in my chest.
The sound of them schlepping themselves up the stairs is a little annoying, so i go out to stand on the balcony. The once over-populated city is deserted. The gray buildings loom overhead, the sky is a beautiful green-blue colour. All of the morox scooters lined up in the parking station remind me of a past life. The life where everyone drove their morox to work, parked it, and took the elevator up to their floor for their profession. The life where i had a nice house, with a nice family, in a nice city. I had a nice job test-driving autopilot bartemoras. It was a little boring, but flying around in the air without a worry, doing the daily crossword while gliding over Yattenore at supersonic speeds, it always made me... content. I was a content person ten and a half years ago. Until the undead decided to make their appearance.
They went for the government first, infecting the people closest to wORlD lEadeR. when it got so high up so quickly, there was panicking in the streets. People blamed the olden-god, the olden-satan. Most blamed the failure of the force-field the week before around the hq of wORlL lEadeR. The optimistic said it would pass quickly, the hopeful said that it wouldnt affect them, the realists prepared themselves, and the pessimistic said everyone would most likely die- or become undead. Well, the optimists and hopefuls died off quickly. Only us realists and pessimists survived on tough luck, good weaponry, and the ability to think rationally. But life came with a price.
It was no longer a real life.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Dream. (ah, not finished)
I'm walking down a dirt road, a hill goes up on my left, and a steep decline goes down the right. Down the incline is what appears to be a slum, I'm in India, I realize. A small, crippled Indian boy in a red shirt passes me by, a blank stare on his face. He drags his legs behind him sadly, relying fully on his crutches. I look toward the slum as he goes by, the sun is quickly setting behind the beaten roofs of the slum. The slum dissapears behind trees, and I walk into the forest.
Nobody knows where I am going, including myself.
As night falls in the forest, a group of Indian people approaches from all around. I get nervous. I keep walking through the trees, and they quickly approach me as i walk into an area thats a little cleared, the ground thick with leaves. I turn back, knowing that they are coming to get me, and one shouts, "You will be unable to leave! if you leave, you will kill him!"
I sort of know what they are talking about-- they are going to try to get the other boy out of me, and as I am a nine year old boy, i will be able to survive it.
I disregard their warnings, I care more for my own life than the one of some random boy, and i start to run away. I trip and fall, feel like small needles are pricking my skin, look down, and see that small, one inch, pale, round spiny creatures have fastened themselves to my body. The Indian people, all men I see, hoist me up. I struggle a bit, free myself from their grasp, and dash through the clearing. I hit some sort of a forcefield, its bright blue light shining around me as my body impacted. I tumbled back, and the men roughly grabbed me again, dragging my dazed body toward a hole in the ground, some of the small spiny creatures fall off my hand, and i see my skin is raw red where it used to be. I'm scared.
The hole in the ground shines brightly, and as we go down the ramp into it, i see that it is a scientific- looking place. Its very white, with a high ceiling, with a floor made of marble tiles. The place is dimly lit though, and the place looks gray.
Nobody knows where I am going, including myself.
As night falls in the forest, a group of Indian people approaches from all around. I get nervous. I keep walking through the trees, and they quickly approach me as i walk into an area thats a little cleared, the ground thick with leaves. I turn back, knowing that they are coming to get me, and one shouts, "You will be unable to leave! if you leave, you will kill him!"
I sort of know what they are talking about-- they are going to try to get the other boy out of me, and as I am a nine year old boy, i will be able to survive it.
I disregard their warnings, I care more for my own life than the one of some random boy, and i start to run away. I trip and fall, feel like small needles are pricking my skin, look down, and see that small, one inch, pale, round spiny creatures have fastened themselves to my body. The Indian people, all men I see, hoist me up. I struggle a bit, free myself from their grasp, and dash through the clearing. I hit some sort of a forcefield, its bright blue light shining around me as my body impacted. I tumbled back, and the men roughly grabbed me again, dragging my dazed body toward a hole in the ground, some of the small spiny creatures fall off my hand, and i see my skin is raw red where it used to be. I'm scared.
The hole in the ground shines brightly, and as we go down the ramp into it, i see that it is a scientific- looking place. Its very white, with a high ceiling, with a floor made of marble tiles. The place is dimly lit though, and the place looks gray.
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