Too much poetry and too much fiction and too little exercise really puts a cramp on the day, I rue the fact that I got my hands on Atwater-Rhodes vampire novels and V.V. Velde's new "Now You See It..." and so on. It's amazing how the desire for reading material overcomes embarrassment caused by teetering loads of wildly assorted literature lugged into Library circulation... But it does, truly. They're like Pringles- how do you get just one? The librarians laid a bet on me ever checking out just one, tidy, decent little book.
*laughs in utter silence*
Tonight I stay up- must redeem the weekend with some decent artwork; just so long as the tepid hand of sleep can be kept at bay by frequent raps of the head against the wall and caffeine. Don't you wish inspiration could be simply knocked from one's skull? Actually, what I need is a little, no, a lot, of perspiration. After all, "A little more sleep, a little more slumber, a little more folding of the hands to sleep..." I don't fancy being poverty-stricken, myself, or having to answer to God for being and idle, lazy, selfish, indulged person.
Doubt assails me as to why I am even writing here in the first place... it's not like I endlessly aspire to be one of the faceless, youthful millions rabidly hammering out their life's story or the endless railing voice against whatever they suppose the elder generations are doing amiss. Ach, no, I've stirred hornets before- and to little more profit than some stinging welts. Well, I take it back, the one time I got my tail flamed to cinder was nicely coincided with meeting my best and most illustrious friend. And that person shall remain unnamed for the sake of his/her fan-base.
*bows with the legendary dash of S.L*
Oh dear. A little blue Spreenie just stucK MY CAPS KEY DOWN/ FOR HEAVENS SAKE! IS THAT GUM?
Peanut butter helps, sometimes. And it sticks their machine-gunning mouths shut too- if you give them a lot globbed onto a raisin...
Once you begin to believe in fantastic things they absolutely will not leave you alone; but it's not too bad- I don't believe in vampires- too scared one of them would decide to sample my jugular.
Actually, I do believe in some fantastical things- tons in fact. You believe in God, a lot comes with it. He is aw-inspiring in Himself. Seeing as He exists outside of and beyond our measly universe of blackness, stars, black holes, planets, and space dust. I like to picture Him on His throne holding the entire thing like a marble in his hand- yet seeing and loving every single scurrying human on that microscopic speck of existence we call Earth.
I don't long for Elves, Pixies, Dwarves, Ents, or any mythological creature; come on, I'll get to see Jesus transformed, the Cherubim with the thousand of eyes, the Tree of Life, every Christian that ever lived, animals that exist only in our imagination- maybe even a dragon straight from the tale of Job.
What could possibly be boring about that? He gave so much for us... and yet he never stops giving. Our lives are the currency- His gift of salvation is free, but his road requires sacrifice as our rightful service. And when I try with my tiny mind to encompass the thought of that future life... it just about fries itself. But the joy is there all the same.
Will we be able to even comprehend it when we are there? Will we be a bit shell-shocked? I can only imagine. *feels muchly more lighthearted*
*emo atmosphere trickles away*
'Tis a night of possibilities- it 'tis, and me self is ready to meet the challenge- whatever it may be. I expect it shall be stayin' awake at 3:30 a.m without the benefit of strobe lights and a junior high band at full tilt outside my door or a roasted hot dog hanging on a string from the ceiling.
I have a little sister who had this obsession with monkeys- every single blasted time I came 'round her, up she'd pipe like a cd on infinite replay: "Do ya want to be a monkey?" (giggle, giggle) And I would heave my breast like the hero's of old and gasp, "No, no, I really can't think of a worst fate, I'd rather be in the middle of Carnegie Hall wearing Gilligan's hat and Elizabeth's corset!" Or to that affect anyway. (which is a
great deal to gasp)
And so it went- until one day I wised up- I told her, very seriously, that I
would like to be a monkey, and proceeded to inquire as to how to accomplish such a thing. Alas, she couldn't quite comprehend that I had come round to her side of things. A little button nose wrinkled up, misaligning the all of four freckles upon it, and impish eyes became blank with disbelief, while her red hair swung with her gyrations aboard the chair (as all four year old red-heads must stay in some constant motion). She hasn't mentioned monkeys since, thank Rodney McKay.
If you haven't seen
Stargate Atlantis... See It. Better than the original. The characters are very easy to get attached to, especially the sometimes redeeming, interesting, mostly obnoxious
Rodney McKay;
Carson Beckett with a to-die-for Scottish accent (who is the smoothest man amongst them if you ask me- just watch the episode with the Ancient woman from the other planet that falls in with Shepherd momentarily) Because everyone knows if you have a Scottish or Irish accent you can get away with calling people "love" or "dear" or other such without raising an eyebrow- it jest flows natural, love, it does;
John Shepherd; Elizabeth Weir; Tayla; Ford, ect.
Watched Titan A.E last night, still love it as much as the first time.
An incomplete list of some of my favorite movies:
Lord of the Rings Trilogy
Star Wars
Pirates of the Caribbean
Ever After Robots Ella Enchanted The Librarian The Lake House National Treasure Les' Miserables' Fiddler on the Roof Back to the Future Trilogy
Princess Bride Princess Diaries Shanghai Noon & Knights Sahara The Illusionist Facing the Giants Time Changer The Nativity Quest for Camelot Bride and Prejudice Modern Pride and Prejudice Timeline Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy A Walk to Remember Flushed Away Seven Brides for Seven Brothers The Matrix (first two)
Ect.
Some random poetry:
Mythical ThiefLike a shadow set into brick
he stands;
Night his traveling lair.
His gaze splintering star-shard
brands-
Lays our worldly treasures bare.
The City that sleeps is
his city;
His fingers every single key.
Who shall snare what must
be fancy
Of smoke, fog, and Fae?
A bit of thief-matrimony
________________________
Last dark I slept wrapped
in his cloak-
Full aware what morn would
bring:
First I kiss him, thieving
bloke,
Then regain my wedding ring.
_________________________
Black shamrock,
Irish thief,
Flitting like a leprechaun,
Coming naught to grief.
My Da's smoke
Along the roofs,
His finger they do vanish.
I's cuts the purse,
He runs the turfs,
An' robs the bloody English.
Be hidden pockets
In my Da's vest,
That I canna find.
Some day, iffen he
Does rest,
I shall thieve him blind.
________________________
Thief's Wife
Slashes of darkness fall over
his kender face,
My thief, my love, he is
as light as morning
On the rooftops.
Arms about me, wedding
pearls gone,
Into his pocket drops.
I smile, his shoulder
hiding my humor.
How I love my thief.
Thats all for now, Ach, here I've let myself ramble on like a fool who's had a pint too many and wandered to far from civilized folk. It happens though, when you carry on internal conversations and talk to yourself. Rather pathetic, sad really.
Oh, and read Tolkien's Poems and Stories... a rather interesting thesis on Fairy Stories is enclosed. I am beginning to think I rather like the guy... he sounds like a Christian from that writing. Muses.
And Hiawatha, and.... well, good night all.
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