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| User: | baby_sloth (47409) Baby Sloth
rocks your cock's socks |
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| Name: | baby_sloth | |||||||||
| Website: | Rising in the West | |||||||||
| E-mail: | draconia_chan@yahoo.com | |||||||||
| AOL IM: |  Moonrise Shadows (Add Buddy, Send Message) | |||||||||
| Bio: | rocks your cock's socks Dramatically unclothed and spicy to the touch, yet she still wears her heart on her sleeve. Such a post-traumatic stressed-out vixen gives hope to limp wings. A scandalous motive with murderous intent, with eyes the size of saucers, drinking it all in. For once in her life, she sparks touch with implicit static feedback. It's a sacreligious explosion, heavy movement and torturous crashes of wind and light, in complete abeyance, a time of sumptuous freshness. Exclamations of such ornate displeasure, grinding together like cold teeth filled with sorrow. In silent cacophony the air ignites, restly assured of no foul play. Time's a bitter enemy, and an ever abysmal source of decadence, but she bites her lower lip, relieved in simmering slumber. You've been here once, a piece of rustic imagination buried amid the clatter your dusty footprints left behind. Let it be so, for the doormat has more bitter foes, upon which hell corrodes, heaven declines, and earth enjoys to poke its fun in the face of such cordial insistance, Where contentment lies in the dawn sun, and sorrow the morning dew. Night brings such spinning recollections, stars in dark corners and gates are the walls. A bit of bliss floats away in the breeze of a ceiling fan. The spectral morning light creates a halo of false pretense, clouded by the immortality of a song unended. With notes searching for heedful ears, incorporeal melody, your body stays celestial. Invisible eruption, but I can feel it. Sharp hint of courageous love. Biting down, unrealistic pursuits. Surrounded by absent portraits. But after one last syncopated cough, the curtain calls in asphyxiation - an elegy of a burning masquerade. Defining moment of profound generosity, a grasp for what existed in a naive belief. Stagnation for eternity, wonderment in all coveted beliefs. • Presume not that I am the thing I was. • And then I felt sad, because I realized that once people are broken in certain ways, they can't ever be fixed, and this is something nobody ever tells you when you are young, and it never fails to surprise you as you grow older, as you see the people in your life break, one by one, you wonder when your turn is going to be, or if it's already happened... • I'm hardly capable of half the damage that I would like to do; I could swear that I don't care but you know that I'm too full of shit to think this through... I'm just like me, so who the hell are you? • I think it must be people who make a habit of saying momentous things even at less than momentous occasions that rise to the occasion when the occasion rises. • I feel so forsaken and lonely on this earth, like a left-over from better times, blown into the present which I hate, and where I shall always feel a stranger. It is surely understandable that I am sometimes attacked by an absolute fever of anger and hatred, and that I turn away in disgust from the world around me which has so little to offer me. Perhaps one day I shall be at peace with this earth, when all the ideals whose sacred flames I cherish are destroyed. But I do not ever wish this. I wish to remain an eternal enigma, to myself and to others. • I don't know half of you half as well as I would like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. • "I like to remember everything," Remus says, very quietly, so as not to wake him. "As it was. Because moments by themselves aren't enough; they're just -- they're like photographs. They move a little, they wave, but they aren't everything. You can look back on a moment and say 'In that moment I was happy' or, more often than not, 'In that moment I was uncomfortable' or 'In that moment I was sad' or 'In that moment we were all berks' but you can look back on everything and you think, 'That was good.' Because when all the moments come together, when all the songs meet up with one another, you get something whole and complete and wonderful, people you loved and people you hated and a fondness for them you may not be able to recapture but everything you remember about them being somehow more than they really were, because that's what remembering everything does. When I'm old, I think, I'll look back on this and I won't remember 'That time Sirius thought, if he lit a fart on fire, he could make a star come out of his arse' but I'll probably remember the stars themselves. I won't think 'He nearly choked me when he grabbed onto my tie' but I will think about the stupid doggy noises you're making, even right now, even while you're sleeping. It probably means remembering everything and not jumping from moment to moment like life is a game of leap-frog and should be taken experience to experience like lily-pads is foolish, because I won't remember you're often a berk and James is often a berk and Peter can be impressively inane and I am such a wet-blanket with such a large nose it's a miracle you don't hate me. I'll just remember that I talked for five minutes to a friend who was already sleeping and I was happy anyway." Remus pauses, sighs, and thumbs the side of Sirius' jaw, not noticing the path of his fingers. "You're not going to remember any of this. Which is probably good since this, my friend, is definitely babble. I hate Gillyweed. It makes you think everything is profound when, in reality, you're talking to yourself and no one else can translate the language that is You." The Shoebox Project, Part Eleven • I use Tyranitar’s Crush Draw and it fails; I was kissed there once; the roses are beautiful so I take pictures; the chances of encountering a shiny are 1 in 8,192; that’s where the sidewalk ends; I wish I could write as well as I read; daijoubu anata does NOT mean I love you and in fact it’s not even a comprehensible sentence; don’t trust the Internet; there are no messages in your inbox; “I’d like to see you again too;” there is no more annoying sound than the too-loud hum of a computer in an otherwise silent room; wouldn’t it be easier for girls to date girls—then we could understand each other; may you live in interesting times; there’s no such thing as no regrets, but baby, I’m all right; you mean she just moves away and that’s it? • The notion that a radical is one who hates his country is naive and usually idiotic. He is, more likely, one who likes his country more than the rest of us, and is thus more disturbed than the rest of us when he sees it debauched. He is not a bad citizen turning to crime; he is a good citizen driven to despair. • If you are not one of my best friends in this world then I will be fickle and disappoint you at some point in life. • I constantly hear my friends’ voices in my head. Usually they are laughing at something funny with me, or making fun of something ridiculous with me. They keep up the commentary on my life, whether they are physically there or not. • I am not proud to be an American. I might have been, had I been born in the proper century. I am proud of the bit of Native American in me, but the general Americanness can go… I don’t know, die. (Yeah, we’re free all right… free to be killed by the air we breathe, consumer products, and the added threat of terrorism… woo!) • I love art in all of its forms, including music, movies, the written word, and visual art. Anything conveying expression and emotion in a talented way will capture me and own me body and soul. Also, anything that’s pretty. • I’m absolutely obsessed with this particular color – it is dark bluish-greenish-turquoiseish-tealish. It very much resembles the particular blue of a peacock’s feathers, but not quite. It’s undefinable. But I want to paint my life that color. • I try my hardest never to judge people. My own ideas about the world and what is right have been changed and manipulated and proven wrong, and so I have absolutely no place to decide anything about anyone else. • My advice to the world: Carpe Diem! Practice random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty. Be the change you wish to see in the world. Don’t be a big mean selfish idiot, or no one’s going to shag you. • You will never know how much of an impact you have made on the people in your life. Just look inside yourself, and think about how much you keep hidden, how many secret memories you cherish, how much one particular moment in time with another person has meant to you, and realize that you have created moments like that within other people. Countless others. Others you might never have given the time of day. It has never been clearer to me how precious we all are, and how much I appreciate all of you in my life. I love you all. Thank you for everything. And if you're reading this, that means you know me in some way, and so this message is for YOU. • How do you explain motivations that don't even make sense to you anymore? How do you give someone an image of what really happened, when you can only half remember yourself? How do you make them understand that you weren't completely stupid back then, when all you can think of yourself is that "God damn I was so fucking stupid"? Just... How do you do it? • If you believe I am going to hell simply because I am not devoted entirely to missionary-style heterosexual intercourse after marriage for reproduction purposes only... well, I suppose I'll see you there. • There's no such thing as no regrets, but baby, I'm all right. • So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you're a genius Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart. • The ice cubes in their tea chatted amongst themselves in little tumbling noises whenever one of them thought to take a sip, and the tea talked to itself in swishes. The fireflies dancing about just outside the screened porch talked in flashes and the frogs talked in croaks and the earth talked to everything in deep meanings Harry thought maybe neither of them would ever understand. The fireflies understood. • "If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all." ~Oscar Wilde • "In a very real sense, people who have read good literature have lived more than people who cannot or will not read." ~S. I. Hayakawa • Some people confuse acceptance with apathy, but there's all the difference in the world. Apathy fails to distinguish between what can and what cannot be helped; acceptance makes that distinction. Apathy paralyzes the will-to-action; acceptance frees it by relieving it of impossible burdens. • "I am a part of everything that I have read." ~John Kieran • "To acquire the habit of reading is to construct for yourself a refuge from almost all of the miseries of life." ~W. Somerset Maugham • Life is a series of stories. In one lifetime, or even in one part of a lifetime, there are hundreds of stories. Some stories aren't meant to have a beginning, a middle, and an end. ("You mean she just moves away and that's it?"), but that's the way it is. You don't always get closure. Your story was one that was never meant to be finished. Yes, you really did just move away and that's it. I'm in the middle of another story now, and I can't afford to try and stay in the past with you. These are Passages that Changed my Life. They were not all written by me; most were written by my lovely wife and some may even be copyrighted to a certain famous person. If you want to know where I found them, email me; this won't be updated often. | |||||||||
| Memories: | 2 entries | |||||||||
| Interests: | 37: anime, art, books, brokeback mountain, draco malfoy, drawing, england, environmental conservation, escaping reality, europe, fanart, fanfiction, fantasy, h/d, harry potter, harry/draco, icons, japan, lyrics, manga, music, nanowrimo, photography, poetry, pokemon, reading, remus/sirius, s/r, singing, slash, sleeping, smash bros, stars, tales of symphonia, tigers, travel, writing | |||||||||
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| Mutual Friends: | 5: emmagrant01, mijan, rubytuesday5681, scarlet_malfoy, stitchesandlace | |||||||||
| Account type: | Free Patient | |||||||||
