Some people say Docklands is 'soulless'; excuse me, what does this mean? How on earth can a place have 'soul'? How can you find 'soul' in bricks and mortar, building and streets? And, even more interestingly, what sort of soulless booby insists on his environment having 'soul'? It's people who are meant to have soul; if we're for some reason incapable of this, its going it a bit to try and pass the burden onto our poor insentient neighbourhoods. It's like those people who insist on wearing slogans on their t shirts, yet they haven't got two thoughts to rub together. People do; things are. I may be more of a visual person than a verbal one, but even I've got that one worked out.
So Docklands is as good a place as any for me to live. Its got good shops, and to me that makes it a neighbourhood, though unfortunately Ive got neighbours too. But my life, like most peoples I know, is the room where I work and taxis and the wild west end. You'd be suprised how much of London, real, inner London itself, is actually a collection of dormitory towns. people live where they can afford to live, and play elsewhere; this is just as true of an alleged part of London like Stoke Newington as it is of an honest to God dorm like Ilford.
When I used to voice my dreams of coming to London as an innocent teen, my mother and father would mutter about the 'loneliness' and lack of 'community spirit' extant in our fair capital. Ofcourse, the cretins couldnt see that this was red rag to a bull time to any solitary, embarassed adolescent worth their salt. (whats that mean?) The sheer, moletn, golden joy of not being known! not being watched! Being born again just the way you wanted to be! the perfection of loneliness!
In fact it didnt turn out that way. Before I took up wit Jill the Knife and moved out to me riverside palazzo, i lived in a broom cupboard over a shop in Southampton Row. Now you look at Southampton Row; its shops isnt it? its shops with traffic in the middle. its central, its commercial, its solitaire heaven.
Wrong! above those shops are hundreds of apartments, great and small. Now your neighbours are easy enough to keep at arms length; you just stiff them. You dont need anything from them , do you? But the shopkeepers, thats different. You do need stuff from them, obviously. I mean, I can live without the milk of human kindness any day, but I definately need something to stick in my coffee when I awake. I was young and healthy, for goodness sake; I needed cigarettes, vodka, pot noodles and all other basic provisions. So I had to have some sort of relationship with local shopkeepers.
When I say relationship, I meant like 'please' and 'thankyou' and the occasional smile. Did I ever have the wrong number! I dont know if you've ever watched postman pat, this kids puppet show, but it was very popular when I was at school and we'd smoked too much dope. Anyway postman pat lives in this mythical English village called Greendale, so ofcourse everyones real tight with everyone else: Mrs Goggins, Alf Thompson, Miss Hubbard, Major Forbes, Mrs Pottage, the Reverend Timms.
Excuse me, did I say 'mythical'? Well, I was wrong! Because, within three weeks of moving into what I thought was my own padded cell in the asphalt jungle, London West Central, in the roaring traffic's boom, I discovered that I had in fact moved to Greendale! Yes Postman Pat himself was on a sabbatical, and the faces here were of varied hue, and not the queasy putty pink of the puppets. But hot damn is that community spirit, that friendliness, that (some would say) pushiness wasn't thicker on the ground than Hubba Bubba.
Item: cute young girl at a newsagents next door asks me if im a model. Yes I know!1 i couldnt believe it either. goaded I let slip im an art student. For some reason, this lights the touchpaper and from here on in the comic genious of Carla and her six co-workers lnows no limits. Routinely, infront of up to twenty paying customers Im asked if I've cut my ear off yet. Im asked with mandatory leer, if I 'do nudes' and if so where do I put my brushes? One of the brighter employees seems particularly interested in 'action painting' and repeatedly enquires, like twice a day, whether I am wont to strip off my clothing, cover myself in paint and roll about on a large sheet of paper. Just passing the shop, I am regaled with cries of 'Oi Picasso!' I end up in the surreal position of walking through three streets to get a pint of early morning milk rather than go next door and become part of the living, breathing London story.
You might say, 'Oh, they were just being sexists! Harassing a single man!' But they weren't. Three of the gang were men, and two of those were black. And besides, I saw this routine pulled with so many people, most of them women. Exhausted young doctors were mercilessly teased about cold stethoscopes and being struck off for sexual misconduct, Earnest young lawyers suffered through light years of banter about 'briefs' and exactly what the ywore under their gowns. I once saw a vicar vomit on the shop floor from sheer nervs after a sustained campaign of insinuation vis-a^-vis the Virgin Birth. there was a shocked silence before they sent out for sawdust, and i realised that this apparent tormenting of certain customers was actually meant as a compliment. We were regulars, in a city of randomness, and this constant reference to the hilarity of our professions was a rather manic, but basically well-meaning, gesture of recognition. In a small community, such incessant harping on our individual identity wouldnt have been necessary; here, for some reason, it was.
Somewhere around the fifth day of sobriety, I was queuing up to pay for my booty when i sensed something about to blow, and big, with this troupe of too-long frustrated comedians. David and Claudine her main feed, kept catching the others eye, then looking towards one of us punters with one united gaze. Then they'd snap out of it and glare crankily at eachother, like illicit lovers blaming the other one for putting temptation in the way.
I really thought we were safe when a young nurse from middlesex who I knew by sight from seeing her in the shop came in. i dont know if you've seen people who've been up all night on drugs trying to go out and function the next day; well, it doesnt matter a bit whether theyve brushed their teeth, combed their hair and shined their shoes - they're different. The texture of their skin is different, their eyes are different, their movements are different. they seem not like a person, but like an alien pod trying to pass as a person.
Thats the way this young nurse, gita, looked. but she hadn't been on drugs, She'd been doing life and death, and it showed. I don't know if she'd been working on a birth, or an abortion, or a painful death. but her wild eyes, and the purply sheen in her brown skin, signalled one thing: that she'd been out there the night before to a place where most of us won't go until we're forced there. And even when we're there, giving birth or dying, we won't really know whats happening because people like Gita will be doing our dirty work for us, and we'll be flying high on morphine. Well, she'd been there stone-cold sober, looking at the whole horrifying thing for twelve hours non-stop, and you could tell that it had driven her a little mad. but mad in that utterly selfless way that only nurses can do; all she wanted was a cup of tea and she'd be ready to go all over again.

masochist

He smiles when you hurt him
Because all he has ever known is pain.

Saras mask dedicated to lustlost

The first time I saw you I thought that I
Would just make another
And then I realized that in life you were
Just another mirror
The first words you spoke were the ones that I
Vaguely remember
But tied in a knot all the times that we
Haven't spent together

And is it your face
That's got you down?
Or is it your mind
When no one's around?


And is it your face
That's got you down
Or is it your mind
When no one's around?

And now when she leaves in the dark
Behind amber waves of cancer
A stroll in the park is a walk from her
Hopes to be a dancer
A light at the end of a tunnel that's
Been going on forever
You don't understand why these people
Are looking unfamiliar

So take my hand
I will walk you around in a mask
Why don't you tell me now

Is it your face
That's got you down?
Or is it your mind
When no one's around?
(Thinking thoughts of a suicide)

And is it your face
That's got you down?
Or is it your mind
When no one's around?

And now when you leave in the dark
Inside everybody's answers
You're planning a way to abandon us
And live your life the way you like
Avoiding the urge to go sulk
In your remedial appearance
But Sara I only expect to see
The whole thing a little bit clearer

So take my hand
I will walk you around in a mask
Why don't you tell me now

The end of the line

When the sirens flash is gone
And were left to carry on
All the memories are too few

When the pastors music plays
And that casket rolls away
I could live again if you
Just stay alive for me

Now that you are dead and gone
And Im left to carry on
I could never smile cause you
Wont stay alive for me

Finally
Your final resting day
Is without me
I weep
And think of brighter days
What about me?

You cant take back the one mistake
That still lives on after life, it takes
In that one day that changed our lives
And bitter memories are left behind

You cant take back the one mistake
That still lives on after life, it takes
In that one day that changed our lives
And bitter memories are left behind, oh yeah

Please stay now, you left me here alone
Please stay, I cant make it on my own,

Rest in peace Andrew Ireland. I knew you for a brief moment in this split second of an existence.

RIGHT

So i could say things are back to normal... but what I mean to say is that im ready to start being normal. When im into the swing of working routine I think I may just sort out that law and history degree!
Has been a strange month, seeing old faces and its just like getting back off summer holidays.
I think I have seen more women this month than I have in the whole year.
Gotta get out there.

Wispa chocolate bars are a bit lovely though...

So I can tolerate the radio again now, after 2 or 3 weeks of listening to ckys new album carver city (its fucking great!) oh blog how I have missed you. Too much partying and being socially alert. I dislike a lot of stuff thats happening around me but the good outweighs the bad BY FUCKING FAR! And I only have time for the good.
I had this wierd idea or mottoe or way of life or whatever.... its like ... praise the good and punish the bad. Its pretty self explanatory but it works on so many levels... i think im going to call it the #'puppy method'#
Cant wait to be working and doing driving lessons. I dont wanna be too old learning to drive.
So my buddy was like so what have you been up to since i last saw you? And i had to answer nothing.... it was a shock to me really even though he was like Yeah just like everyone else! But still its time for me to get moving now. Ive gone for years just seeing what happens and being peaceful. Its time to stop acting so disengaged and seeming plain stupid.
I have decided im going to sort out all the snidy cunts who give funny looks to people and try to sway how people think.
Time to fuck some shit up!!!!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/4th_millennium_BC

.

To be human is to be curious. And one of the things we are most curious about is how we came to be who we are--how we evolved over millions of years to become creatures capable of inquiring into our own evolution.

memo to self
Read The World from Beginnings to 4000 BCE
Ian Tattersall

XD

The quality of my blogs is diminishing. Where I think Im coming on in leaps in bounds its possible Im not. But who cares anyway Im playing amazing guitar at the moment!

There is no other pill to take, so swallow the water that makes you ill

Some people count sheep
but i write when i cant sleep
I heard people read to get smart
but i think reading makes you a retard
some people say i look like a scruff
and to them i say fair enough
youre not allowed to be poor and pompous
but you can be rich and obnoxious
the buyers and sellers
the auld fellas
the plot that thickens
politicians beauticians and medicine men
running round like headless chickens
the concept of us and them
they all have secrets to keep
they all manage to sleep
and so should you.
adieu

when you posess both compassion and efficiency, luck is rather immaterial

A magnanimous farewell

I cant help smirking. A rich ubane see you round smirk, so it looks like its ciao. My smirk threatens to eat my face and make a start on my neck for afters.

As the train pulled in I staggered back to our seats laden down with refreshments - though you dont really feel refreshed after stuffing yourself stupid with cheddar ploughmans sarnies and double G&Ts do you? Yous just feel more knackered. Why is this? - I find HER sticking her tongue out at a little boy on the platform with his leg in plaster. He hobbled away, backwards, still looking at her, amazed. Then he walked into a trolley, keeled over and began to cry. His mother ran up to him, hauled him to his feet and slapped him.
She sniggered
I started to say something, then remembered that she'd grown up in a different culture to me. Casual racism, wrestling to the death and branding blood relations with red-hot pokers was all in a days work when she was a girl. So I didnt say anything. Instead I sat opposite her and smiled as I handed her her tea.
'Here you go - three sugars! Live dangerously, eh?'
She then proceeded to call me 'The boybride of some muslim homo.'
What a fantastic grasp of the language. Such a razor sharp lizardlike tongue.... I guess thats where I get it from.

...

At the little office inside the door i gave my name to the elderly secretary who looked old enough to remember jesus in pantalooons. Then gave it to her again, as she'd managed to forget it somewhere between hearing it and looking for a pen with which to write it down. Behind her, an overweight woman with frizzy black hair typed slowly on a computer, the expression on her face suggesting that someone had forced her on pain of death, to suck repeatedly on a sour lemon. They seemed like the kind of women who considered it their sacred duty to be unhappy and regarded anyone with a smile on his face as mired in unimagineable vice. I smiled, and tried to give the impression that only I engaged in imagineable vices. In return, the secretary guided or more so directed me to an uncomfortable plastic chair. When I sat on it, it teetered to the left, forcing me to shift my weight to the right or tumble straight back out the door.
After a couple of minutes, a man appeared in the doorway of the room to my left. He wore a brown uniform shirt and neatly pressed brown trousers. According to the badge at his breast, his name was Grass. The local stoners probably laughed themselves blue in the face, at least until Grass got up close and personal with them. He was a young man in his twenties, and when he shook my hand I felt one of my knuckles pop.

Something I found and suprised myself with.

familiarity breeds contempt
I could write the book
just call me a human tennis ball
I could take credit for bringing these beautiful people together
But that would only make me responsible
To be the one to make everything right.

I sit in hours of isolation
empty mind racing
Trying to clear it out just that little bit more.
Great wars have been fought in the time we have not made contact
And it still feels like yesterday
Try and tell me tomorrow is too late
No use pretending
I will use everything within me to make things right again.

what im about how i roll etc

Cant stand thieves, and hate liars- I will always forgive you and say sorry when i've done nothing wrong- I like smiles and people who dont do drama- musicians people with ideas- Its good when you are happy... some people will make sure youre not.

advice

Never let the sun set on a silly argument, take life as it comes along. live each day as it is special cos it could be the last one!

........

making a horror movie?
i have loads of bands that want me to make their vidz, but i dont have the money
the first one i made was just running through the woods with a fish eye lens
all darkness and strange lighting
and an abandoned house in black and white dat tape
it was good you could probably apply it to any music video with enough editing

A

So tonight I'll sit and pick apart your pictures
And overanalyze your words
But the truth is that I've never fallen so hard
It's taking everything in me
Just to forget your sweater so far

I can honestly say
That I never, ever, ever felt this way
Your lips, your eyelashes, your skin
These are the parts of your body
That cause my comatose to begin

I will sleep another day
I don't really need to anyway
What's the point when my dreams are infected
With words you used to say
I will breathe in a moment
As long as I keep my distance
I wouldn't want to go messing anything up

So don't go worrying about me
It's not like I think about you constantly
So maybe I do, but that shouldn't affect
Your life anymore
I knew it the moment you walked into the door

I been sittin here, just wastin time.... drinkin, smokin, tryin to free my mind. It is my anthem.

pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves vanity to what we would have others think of us.

there are people that smoke weed that aren't stupid, though its quite a common inevitability.

Its not all about that infact it definately isnt. Girls arent important money is ... though money is a good way to attract girls so its a catch 22 situation.

you say youre surrounded by negativity
but youre the only one that sounds negative to me

time keeps rollin on
and time has chased me away
its all good

thats all you ever say lately

thats all you ever
all you ever say.

random scribbled observations an animal with lungs is merely visiting the planet.

In a sense the world is becoming drawn together into one great communications network. Not so long ago philosophers had to travel for days by horse and carriage in order to investigate the world around them and meet other philosophers. Today we can sit anywhere at all on this planet and access the whole of human experience on a computer screen.

Occassionally infinitessimal errors occur in the process so that the copied cell is not exactly the same as the mother cell. in modern biological terms this is a mutation mutations are either totally irrelevant or they can lead to marked changes in the behaviour of the individual they can be directly harmful and such 'mutants' will be continually discarded from large broods. Many diseases are infact due to mutations. But sometimes a mutation can give an individual just that extra positiv characteristic needed to hold its own in the struggle for existence.

let it go

When you're taught through feelings

Destiny flying high above
all I know is that you can realize it

Destiny who cares
as it turns around
and I know that it descends down on me

It's just another day
the shame is gone
hard to believe
that I've let it go

Destiny can't replace my life
Scary shadows of my past
are alive

Destiny who cares
as it turns around
and I know that it descends
with a smile

It's just another day
the shame is gone
it's hard to believe
that I've let it go away


It's just a melody
it bleeds in me
hard to believe
that I've let it go

if you have ever

So Iv been writing lot....

I am at peace I think.

Im not as full of rage and frustration as usual.

Questioning everything, wanting nothing

Feeling free.

But you are not going to go away are you.

Bagel of death

Friends talk among friends about going to a mansion during vacation. Knowing little of its haunting past...they decide to go. A horrid past haunts this mansion, causing strange things to happen while they are in the mansion. Jealousy grows among some. Romance and Love grows intertwined. They soon learn the history of the mansion they are residing at...will they stay or leave. This is the story of this mansion..of Romance...



Alright. Pretty much what the story says, this is a role play where emotions fly...and so do some items! I thought it would be awesome to take a Horror story and mix it with a Romance story, and put Harry potter in the mix.




Kathrine laughed "Come on dont be chicken!" she said walking inside, she looked around, everyone had just arrived The mansion was dark, and Medieval looking. It scared her slightly, she felt as if some one was watching her.

Evra had not yet entered the mansion, due to fear. With Hailey behind him quivering, he felt quite uncomfortable

Johanna was looking around for someone to go in with her, she refused to go in alone

Aeyron got out of the taxi and felt a sudden chill down his spine... "Hey there." Aeyron said to the girl that was looking around, "Who're you looking for???" Aeyron looked up at the mansion and imagined a moat around the place with banners and a portacullis. "Looks kinda cool doesn't it?"

"Cool in a spooky way" Kathrine said

Hannah took a deep breath as she took in the sight of the mansion. "We're staying here?"
Damien, her older brother, nodded. "Seems like it."
"Come on, then," Shane said with much enthusiasm. He took one of Elle's shaking hands and dragged her inside.
Hannah looked at her brother. "There is no way I'm entering that house. '
"Mansion actually," Damien corrected her.
'Whatever," Hannah said. "I am not going in there."
Damien rolled his eyes. He swept Hannah off her feet, hoisted her over his right shoulder, and carried her inside.

Julio was dragged in by his sister as usual. Ora tugged on him until they made it in one piece. "Seems my eyebrow nearly got sliced because of you," Julio said bitterly.

"It's not my fault you can't side apparate correctly," Ora retorted. She stopped shortly as she saw Johanna.

"Hey, aren't you going inside? We got the message to meet up here."


Mike cowardly stepped up to Damien, "H-Hey she said trying to sound as brave as possible, "She said that she didn't want to go i-inside!" But it was too late, and poor Mike had to run after them both inside.

Hermione and Annette came from the dark night together, shivering. Not from fear but from the utter cold night. "Why are we even here?" Annette asked her. Hermione shrugged. She simply walked forward to Julio who was still wondering if he should go inside.

"Are you scared?" she asked.

"No! Of course not! I was just waiting on you and Annette. Yes, that's it." He grinned.

"Come in with us then. Seems the rest of them are inside."

Evra walked inside, with Hailey clinging to his back "Get off me..." he muttered


"Nope....not if you paid me a million bucks, i am scared out of my wits" Hailey whined


Johanna noticed a few people walking inside, she was off in a dark corner. She ran and followed them inside.


Ora frowned. She seemed to be ignored over the girl's freight. "Hey! Johanna! Wait up!" Ora whined.

Johanna turned "Ora!!! Hi" she said

She started to pant as she stopped, "W-Why are.. we here? This place smells kinda funny..."

Johanna shrugged "I dont know, was not my idea. But ya know, i like the whole design of it." she said "but its got a strange aura"

"Whaddya mean? If you mean the smell..." Ora looked around for a minute and then turned her head back around. "Wait a minute, you aren't having a Luna Lovegood moment are you?"

Johanna laughed hard "No silly!! The air feels heavy around here. it makes me feel uneasy" she said

She shrugged lightly, "I don't feel it. I just smell it. You don't think its dark magic do you?"

"Who knows." Johanna said

Aeyron decided to push on through the house and first floor, heading toward the stairs... "I bet they have a killer library." He said aloud to the others in the house... 'I know what I can do, I'll charm the books to "attack" anyone that comes in... Perfect' He thought to himself.

Hermione's ears perked up and she seemed to follow Aeyron. "Did you say library?"

Julio was being dragged along for the ride. "Hermione, I really don't-"

"Shh, you won't be like Ron, come with me and Aeyron."


Ora frowned, "I hope not."


Johanna nodded


Aeyron did an about face and looked at Hermione, "Perhaps it would be best if I went in for a quick minute and checked it out... I mean just so you don't hurt yourself." Aeyron amended, trying to keep his plan rolling.

Hermione stopped short and flared her nostrils. "I can take care of myself thank you," she said harshly. "Honestly, why do you boys think that I need the help when half the time I'm the one saving you."



Kathrine was walking when she was shoved by something, when she turned nothing was there..."Oh great...now i am imagining things" she said when she passed Aeyron and Hermione, looking quite freaked out


Johanna looked at Ora "So wanna head inside?"

"That looks like the library... Come on." Aeyron said, pushing past Kathrine, "Kath, we already knew you were crazy, no need to prove it." He whispered as he went by, giving a joking smile. "Huh, kinda stuck." Aeyron pushed his hardest against the heavy wooden doors. "Okay, I saw this once in a movie, let's try it." Aeyron walked to the top of the stairs, gauged the distance and ran full force at the doors, jumping up as if to kick them down... but never made contact, just before his feet would have touched the doors, they flew open and swallowed, closing just as swiftly behind him.

"Oh hell," Julio muttered. Hermione took out her wand in an instant. "Great, first bad thing to happen. I had a bad feeling about this."

"What spell are you going to use?" he asked her.


"I don't know, Katherin, any ideas?" Hermione frowned.


Ora grabbed Johanna's hand and lead her inside, "no need to ask me."

Kathrine looked confused "Nope....What the hell just happened"

Johanna laughed a bit

Hermione grunted in frustration. "That door just ate Aeyron," Hermione said. "I wish Harry was here. No, I can do this."

She pointed her wand and cast a few spells but none of them seemed to work.

Julio took out his wand but had no ideas. Instead, he walked up to the door and tried to kick it open again.

Kathrine sighed "I knew i was not just imagining things earlier...." she said and she walked up to the door

"Okay, not funny guys, Carpe Retractum." Aeyron said, pulling his wand from his sleeve and pulling at the door, but it wouldn't budge. "Open the door!" He went and pounded hard, doing nothing but hurting his hand. "Ahh... that hurt." He said, gripping his hand. He whirled around as he heard a rustle behind him, he looked and saw a book lying on the ground. 'what the heck?' He went and picked up the book looking at the first page, The art and tools of warfare, Author Unknown, underneath he saw a picture of a delicate but dangerous-looking sword. "Looks real." he said, throwing it over his shoulder but instead of a thud, hearing the clang of metal and the slice of it being picked up.

Hermione's ears pricked up. "Aeyron? Can you hear me?" she yelled.

"What was that thud? Kat, are you alright?" Julio seemed to only have questions.

Kathrine studied the door "I think i can find a way in...thank god dad was a paranormal investigator..." she muttered

"Muggle or magical?" Hermione asked. She starting to feel she was surrounded by Luna Lovegoods.

Aeyron heard the faint noise of Hermione's voice, he was backing toward the door not taking his eyes off of the sword that was now doing acrobatics in the air while he himself conjured one... "Okay, guys? I'm sorry about my plan to make the books attack anyone that came in here, but WHY AND HOW THE HECK ARE YOU DOING THIS!!!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, blocking the now offensive sword going for his heart, fighting off the attacks with greace and finesse, as artfully as a dancer. "JOKE'S OVER! STOP THE SWORD AND LET ME OUT!!!" He yelled at them, still thinking they were playing a trick on him.

Hermione started to bang on the door. "Aeyron? What are you talking about? We aren't doing anything but trying to get you out!"

Kathrine tapped three times in the middle of the door, then pushed on it and it slid open a bit, but it seemed as if it was being blocked off by something, as if barricaded

"How did you-- Oh nevermind, seems blocked," Hermione bit her lower lip. She pointed her wand and uttered another spell.

Kathrine smirked "You learn a thing or two when you dad works with this stuff." she said "Damn...its barricaded...this is gonna be harder then i thought"

Julio pointed his wand, "Depr--"

Hermione cupped her hand over his mouth, "Don't use that spell! You'll destroy the door and hurt everyone! Think will you?"

She pointed her wand again, "Wingardium Leviosa". She waited to see if that took out the obstruction.

Kathrine looked at them "Magic is not gonna work...but y'all are welcome to keep trying" she said "The Paranormal are not altered by magic." she said "And yes i am aware how crazy i sound."

Hermione put her wand down and for a moment was going to say something, but she held back. "Do you mean to tell me that what's happening here isn't magical?"

"Where's Luna when you need her?" Julio muttered.

"Nope. No magic at all. If it were we would be able to tell. and also, All you have to do is go through the door at this point." Kathrine said "Just walk right through, there is nothing in front of the door, at first i thought there was but if there had been i would not be able to do this." Kathrine walked right into the Library with out another word.

"Remind me again if I'm awake," Julio said with a blink.

"You're awake and so am I. I just don't believe this..." Hermione muttered. She walked through the door leaving Julio behind.

"H-Hey wait! What if something attacks me out here! Wait!" he whined as he too threw himself through the door.

"TELL THAT TO THE SWORD AN INCH AWAY FROM MY THROAT!!! HOW CAN THIS HAPPEN WITHOUT ANY MAGICAL INTERFEREN-- Ouch, you son of a... GUN! YOU GUYS HAPPY NOW, YOU GOT ME!!!" Aeyron yealled, still fighting off the sword while stemming the blood... "OH, YOU EVEN GOT THE BOOKS TO BARRICADE THE DOOR, ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME???" Aeyron did a hard slice and caused the sword to hit the ground and shatter. "It's about... crap." Aeyron looked up and saw 50 more of the swords appear in midair, all poised and ready for battle. "Tergeo, there got the blood off. I need another sword." Aeyron conjured one and yelled back out the door. "OKAY, I BELIEVE YOU NOW, THIS IS WAY TOO MUCH... EVEN FOR HERMIONE. SO HURRY UP!!!" Aeyron yelled, now defending himself from the onslaught of swords, getting minor scratches as he fought hard, but ignoring them.

Kathrine sighed "Whatever is in the mansion feels threatened..."

Lacey hesitated, staring at the mansion. "I dunno about this, Luce..."

Lucy nodded in agreement with Lacey. "Me either... It's weird."

Lacey smiled weakly and went to take her sister's hand. "C'mon. I need to find Mike."

Lucy giggled, "Oooh, Mike!"

Lacey playfully punched Lucy on the arm. "Shut up. What if he is around here? He'll hear you!"

The two continued to search for the rest.

"Aeyron!" Hermione rushed forward, "Are you alright?" She pointed her wand but then bit her lower lip. "Right, no magic huh?"

Julio muttered something under his breath. "Now what? Do we just run?"

Kathrine sighed "I am gonna sound crazy again...just a warning" she said then looked up "Is someone here??" she said loudly "Can you tell us a name??" she said again "We mean no harm, we do not wish to hurt you!" she said.

The moment she finished the swords stopped and the books fell

"Thank god that worked...i didnt think it would" Kathrine said

"You know... Thank goodness for those practicings I did in the Shrieking Shack." Aeyron said, checking out his own blood-stained shirt and bleeding cuts... but mainly looking at the bloody gash on his upper shoulder. "that's gonna leave a mark." He said, fainting promptly afterward, from the loss of blood.

"damn it" Kathrine said turning to Aeyron

Aeyron moaned as he stirred, his muscles ached and his body felt warm... except the chills running through every nerve and vein in his body. "Kathrine... I need to tell you something. Come here, so I can whisper it to you." Aeyron said, conjuring what little strength he had, 'please stay with me long enough to tell her' he pleaded.

Kathrine looked confused and bent down by him "Yes? whats it?"

In a shadow beneath the lightning (start of halloween story)

There was no doubt that what had been heard but not seen was not of this world. We could hear it screaming. We ran until our legs were filled with battery acid and our lungs drowned themselves in fear. Surely things like this only existed in a juvenile nightmare? There was no way this was happening. Impossible.
Scrambling through dense woodland in the harsh weather we saw the lights of an old gothic building. Knowing the beast was behind us we threw ourselves over the victorian gates, caked in mud and lascerations, soaked like sewer rats we attacked the mansion door like the proverbial gas man from hell.

she looked like an angel

all I need is more tequila and a woman of questionnable morals

Your idea of real is classic coke

You are insane. I mean that; You are literally, lurridly, a lunatic. You are off your head. Out of your tree. Round the bend. Either that , or you cannot have thought logically about what you are saying. im sorry to bring this up, and I swore I never would, but do you remember the last time you tried to look after something?

It was a fucking lovers quarrel. 70 percent of all murders are committed by cohabitees or former cohabitees.

a word

Iv always been one for the old quote 'actions speak louder than words blah blah blah'
but they just fucking dont unless you shoot someone.
I wonder who writes the script for life, and what kind of tv they watched before they were assigned this crazy project. Mayhaps (haha love that word) we are the actors and writers in this story without even knowing. Maybe some of us are aware of the power.

Dont you hate it when youre typing and you get back ache? I mean seriously Im not even a fully fledged writer but this is torture!
Developing a style of writing is a bit difficult. its like the words are all there but you just have to throw them together with your own character tattooed on.
Like that TV ad - 'he knows text communication can be a real turn on' bullshit but true. You see if you have character it doesnt necessarily mean that when you write it will entertain readers... but usually it does.
Some would argue that a writer has to travel the world and do amazing wonderful dangerous things (power of the triad) surely someone whos really fucking boring cant write a good novel? Imagination can take you so far I guess; Leave this world behind and all that jazz...

Where was I? Swear to God I turn 23 and my brain falls out. OH YES Internet communication!
Not necessarily social networking (evidently the devil) Im talking about this strange new scary world known as video phonecalls. Something I expected to be all over the 21st century like a rash on a chapped vagina. Now you see sci fi movies and video communication seems to be the way in which the government controls you. (back to the future George Orwells 1984) We see that us poor humans have no privacy which leads to agitation and stress panic attacks and shorter life expectancy. Oddly enough I think this new scary technology is something technologically advanced people have to deal with. Basically if youre self conscious about walking along a beach with no top on holding hands with your girlfriend then youre not going to get very far.
As a young lad me and a few friends had a concept called 'no shame'. Epic huh? Basically we would assign tasks to eachother that would require what poser gangsters call BALLS. Anything absolutely anything you would never ever do (hard to think of now eh?) and yeah its basically truth or dare without the truth... what Im getting at is that THIS is what people have to do for themselves. Not just for the adrenalin and serotonin but for the benefit of existence. I like to be lazy but if Im going to do something it has to be at least a bit dangerous, I need to know theres going to be some kind of kick out of it or at least a giggle. For me its easy to see how a lot of people fall into the BORED trap. Too much of a pussy to do something, or just completely have no imagination at all. No longer do people think ''im gonna jump off something really high - no wait i might hurt myself'' now the imagination simply doesnt care.

I can put music to words
But words evade me
I sit
under the apple tree

I can do anything i put my mind to
but remind me
what i want to do again?

I could sing a song for lovers
but define love in this world

Beneath the city
theres a river
and a girl that takes nobody with her

Lost within her own mind
suffocated by those
not of her own kind

in my heart there is a quiver
but arrows i cannot fire
makes me shiver
the cost of my desire