There's also a writer's block that goes something like this:
Would you ever take someone back after they cheated on you, and why? What could change your mind?
Just thought I'd quote it as a matter of interest.
And her response:
No.
Nothing.
The end.
Which sounds like "try again in 15 minutes" to me.
Now we come to a poem. I must say I'm a little bit excited. It has been a long time since we had a good, shitty poem to muck through on Edie Finds a Corpse.
It's entitled "Dear potential future loves..." which I do enjoy some speculative fiction. Or poetry, as the case may be.
My skin is like a map, of where my heart has been
And I can't hide the marks, but it's not a negative thing
So I let down my guard, drop my defenses, down by my clothes
I'm learning to fall, with no safety net, to cushion the blow
Oh so you're a Space Marine? You don't need medals because every scar is borne of battle?
I bruise easily, so be gentle when you handle me
There's a mark you leave, like a love heart carved on a tree
I bruise easily, can't scratch the surface without moving me
Underneath
I bruise easily, I bruise easily
I don't bruise, really.
Basically if I get a bruise I probably broke a bone.
I've found your fingerprints on a glass of wine
Do you know you're leaving them all over this heart of mine, too
But if I never take this leap of faith, I'll never know
So I'm learning to fall with no safety net to cushion the blow
Wow this is like a poem written by a crazy person.
... What do I mean "like"? This is poetry written by a crazy person.
Oh, oh, I've got a poem:
Today I found my black ink
BLACK LIKE MY SOUL
and it is almost empty
why, Games Workshop, did you
stop selling ink
and start
selling inferior washes?
Thank you.
I added the "BLACK LIKE MY SOUL" because it sounds deep. Yeah I'm a tortured soul, ladies.
I've been nursing my three remaining bottles of ink for like 3 years now. I think it's time to get over it.
Oh this isn't even her poem, wow. This is a song someone else recorded.
That means at least two people thought this was good.
Maybe even more.
I'm kind of at a loss for words, currently.
I had to refresh my "Post an Entry" page 10 times to get my cursor to appear in the text box and to actually write my entry, which just compounds the reason why I popped on here to bitch about LJ in the first place!
I'm really interested in your grievances.
Why is there no fucking gender specification on the profile page?
It annoys me when I have to go through someone's fucking journal to find out what gender they are, and even then, half the time, I can't tell.
Oh wait, I genuinely am interested in your grievances. Tell me about it, sister.
(Hence the reason I thought poor your_efling was a chick until I read an entry about a battle with an oven in which he actually referred to himself as Kevin - sorry, darling.)
Hey at least you came to the answer. Sometimes I'm looking at their fucking ugly faces and still can't tell.
Oh, remember this question?
How would you describe your ideal romantic partner in six words?
Her post on the subject is 175 words.
How is it I had an extra word and you went over by a factor of 169?
1. Flawed
(I'm a sucker for boys with psychological/emotional dysfunctions - it implies multifaceted depth, which is an over analytical brain picker's dream!)
>Dysfunctions
>depth
Nope. It just implies one thing: YOU'RE FUCKING CRAZY.
2. Intelligent
(A smart boy for a smart girl - if a guy isn't my intellectual equal or greater, I have zero interest ... sorry, dummies.)
Gee, being your intellectual equal. What a challenge.
3. Independent
(I'm very independent. I take care of myself and what's mine. I don't need a man to hold my hand everywhere I go - proverbially speaking, 'cause light PDA totally rocks - I expect the same from a significant other.)
light PDA?
Anyone?
Anyone?
Light PDA?
Fuck, I'll just Google.
Personal Digital Assistant--
Personal Data Assistant (fuck me)
Progressive Democrats of America (thanks for making this difficult, cunt)
Pennsylvania Dental Association (that's the one)
Ah, it's probably Public Display of Affection.
Fuck you, I mean goddamn.
4. Dominant.
(Aggressive, possessive, domineering men tend to calm and tame my power tripping, control freakish ways - and I like being roughed up a bit in the bedroom!)
Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Let's just take a step back to numeros tres, shall we?
I'm very independent. I take care of myself and what's mine. I don't need a man to hold my hand everywhere I go -
And yet she wants:
Aggressive, possessive, domineering men
WELP.
5. Creative
(I don't care if you draw, write, design, program or cut out little paper snowflakes - I dig men who have imaginations and can find productive ways of conveying, materialistically, the images in their minds.)
Well I do have a blog with almost 400 entries. Ladies.
6. Funny
(My kind of weirdly combined dark/morbid, sarcastic and downright goofy/dorky funny.)
I think we have a match, here. A love connection over Livejournal-- no just kidding I hate this cunt.
Lately, I feel like I'm in a never ending whirl of blurred momentum. Days and nights meld together. I go in to work and I feel like I never left. I wake up in the morning and I feel like it's yesterday - sometimes, I think it's tomorrow.
If I go to bed and I wake up and it's yesterday the last thing I'm doing is writing about it on Livejournal, I mean fuck.
I'm so preoccupied with work and being a mom that I have no time to think of anything else,
>Mom
Well I pegged you for about 14 years old.
I suppose you could still be 14 but-- I dunno.
Why are some things nowhere near as easy as we'd like them to be, and why are other things far more easy than we need them to be?
>more easy
Speaking of: 63k skill points to hit rank 38.
Fuuuuck.
Speaking of, my gay FFXIV character sighting for the day:
That is a man in a skirt with no shirt on.
WATCH OUT, EDIE! THAT'S HOW YOU CATCH THE GAYNESS!
If I manage to break hearts from across an ocean, without even trying to, imagine the damage I could do if I actually held one in my hands.
Well the quickest way to a man's heart is through his chest, as they say.
Now there's a picture of a man garroting a woman-- what the fuck?
One of the tags is "kink" and I don't even know--
I mean I've heard of erotic asphyxiation but I'm pretty sure this guy is just killing this woman.
Oh, remember this question?
How would you describe the last decade in one sentence?
Her response: 3 paragraphs. Anyway, moving on:
It's tiny particles of hope that keep us going, that keep us from sinking, that keep us from staring into the abyss and contemplating the absoluteness of nothing.
What
I'm just going to skip this post too, come to think of it.
Isn't it ironic how gun fanatics are constantly ranting and raving about their right to bear arms for the sake of protection, when they don't realize that if guns weren't made so readily available, they wouldn't need so much fucking protecting in the first place?
Oh, well, by that logic if we just kill every human no one would need guns because we'd all be dead!
You do realize the criminal element of the world will get guns regardless of how illegal they are, right?
Before a smartass decides to make a comment stating the obvious: I realise there are various other forms of weapons which are just as dangerous, blah blah blah ..... let's not get into semantics or technicalities - this is a firearm specific bitchfest, brought to you by Melanie, via a short and sweet statement just dripping with disapproval and disgust.
Oh I got smartass in a way you didn't even predict.
I want to write so badly.
Not gibberish and nonsense, but something of real value.
I can't.
Ha, ha, wow. A Livejournal user being honest for a change.
The words are there - ever present - but something is denying me access to them.
Have my demons conspired against me by stationing a gatekeeper within my mind to guard my creativity bank?
You need to send your mental Lone Wolf in there to overcome the gateless gate and kill Buddha.
Ever read Lone Wolf and Cub?
No?
Vile, shadowy creatures with nothing better to do than to meddle, yet I love them so, for without them, there would be no me.
Starting to sound like a shitty, emo version of Persona 3 now.
Oh there's a picture of you.
Woooooow you look like a cunt.
Here, check it out.
In 16 days, I'll be 28 years old.
Many claim I still have the face of a child, but..
I've been cursed/gifted with an old woman's soul.
I've been on my own for too long.
WOE IS MEEEEEEEEEEEEE
I sound like such a whiny child, sometimes.
>sometimes
Anyway I have shit to do.
Be seeing you, my good faggots.
No comments:
Post a Comment