December 5th, 2000

I wish I could write

Lyrics like these:

My favorite (not) coping with suicide song of all time:
Rustic Overtones, Gas on Skin
I said,
"Don't put gas on skin.
But if it catches that's no long-cut leather jacket."
And he said,
"Here's when you lose your innocence."
And he said, "Boy, let's not pretend," and lit the matches.
And I'm afraid I've never seen a flame as great
As fire in the mattress, things just smoldering.
He's not in love with anything at all
The gas smells like his alcohol.

C They weren't fast enough
H Everything just blackened up
O In smoke.
R I let it burn (x3)
U And I was getting in my car.
S Getting in my car...

Why can't someone else be who just witnessed this?
Console me for the note you should have wrote
I'll just say you went to bed with cigarettes
They don't know you never smoked (x2)
And that you weren't in love with anything at all.
No one broke your heart, you just never got involved.

Chorus


From the random nouns, verbs, and adjectives combined into something nonsensically beautiful school:
King Crimson, In the Court of the Crimson King
The rusted chains of prison moons are shattered by the sun.
I walk a road, horizons change; the tournament's begun.
The purple piper plays his tune, the choir softly sing;
Three lullabies in an ancient tongue, for the court of the crimson king

The keeper of the city keys put shutters on the dreams.
I wait outside the pilgrim's door with insufficient schemes.
The black queen chants the funeral march,
The cracked brass bells will ring;
To summon back the fire witch to the court of the crimson king.

The gardener plants an evergreen whilst trampling on a flower.
I chase the wind of a prism ship to taste the sweet and sour.
The pattern juggler lifts his hand; the orchestra begin.
As slowly turns the grinding wheel in the court of the crimson king.

On soft grey mornings widows cry, the wise men share a joke;
I run to grasp divining signs to satisfy the hoax.
The yellow jester does not play but gently pulls the strings
And smiles as the puppets dance in the court of the crimson king.


I'm feeling this clip right now:
From Rush's Distant Early Warning:
The world weighs on my shoulders, but what am I to do?
You sometimes drive me crazy, but I worry about you.
I know it makes no difference to what you're going through
But I see the tip of the iceberg, and I worry about you.
  • Current Music
    Burning Airlines - Pacific 231

F'd-net

I made my first journey to a non-DALnet IRC channel tonight since the early days when mIRC was a twinkle in Khaled's eye. I visited #tmbg as a guest of the Lady Enna, a marvelous hostess, even when burdened with sociology homework. I had the opportunity to entertain the masses some:

* Enna waits for another Boxlor joke
DarkSmile: Fucking kid.
DarkSmile: Thinks she's Waiting.
DarkSmile: She's not Waiting.
Enna: hehe
DarkSmile: Boxlor is Waiting.
* Enna claps
DarkSmile: FOR THE END OF THE UNIVERSE!!!
DarkSmile: Boxlor will consume you all.
DarkSmile: FOREVER!
Enna: you'd make Wastegrrl so proud

I hope so. I hope so.
  • Current Music
    Big Pig - I Can't Break Away
lord, From this chair of mine...

New icon

From this picture, one of my many randomized wallpapers:



( Click to enlarge )


I mirrored it so he's left-handed, like me. He looks pretty tough, but alone. I think he's lord of his own domain. He's a lot like me and what I aspire to be, at least, sometimes.

What do you think?

(no subject)

Trying one last icon. Whaddaya think? Is it me? Are they all me? Is any of them me?

Waiting for the image selection client. ;)
  • Current Music
    Marillion - Misplaced Childhood
lord, From this chair of mine...

Blue screen of death

Fucking Windows. Thinks it's so unstable. It's not unstable. Boxlor is FUCKING UNSTABLE IF YOU CRASH ONE MORE GODDAMN TIME!@#$@#%
  • Current Music
    Nothing; the shit done went and crashed

Right!

She said something about calling her for a study break. I should... after a nap.
  • Current Music
    Hole - Violet/Malibu (two for Tues.)

For curiosity's sake

When the Pawn hits the conflicts he thinks like a king
What he knows throws the blows when he goes to the fight
And he'll win the whole thing 'fore he enters the ring
There's no body to batter when your mind is your might
So when you go solo, you hold your own hand
And remember that depth is the greatest of heights
And if you know where you stand, then you know where to land
And if you fall it won't matter, cuz you’ll know that you’re right

Fiona Apple's last album's complete title. Fucking title.

#conversatron today (Poor Psyli (http://psyli.editthispage.com/))

More BoxLore:
<Psyli> It should be a sin to wake up at 5am!
<ImperfectDark> It is, in my religion.
* ImperfectDark worships Boxlor.
<ImperfectDark> Fucking Jesus.
<ImperfectDark> Thinks he's so Big.
<ImperfectDark> He's not Big.
<ImperfectDark> Boxlor is Big.
<ImperfectDark> tee hee
<ImperfectDark> This is a great philosophy!

Dune:
<Psyli> Anyone watch Dune last night?
<ImperfectDark> Not last night.
<ImperfectDark> No one in the whole country tuned in for a second time.
<ImperfectDark> America may be dumb, but we're not THAT dumb.