![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
phrenodormio's journalLog in Create a LiveJournal Account Learn more
| You are viewing phrenodormio's journal Log in Create a LiveJournal Account Learn more | Explore LJ: Life Entertainment Music Culture News & Politics Technology |
 | |||
|
(to the tune of Battle Hymn of the Republic...and with a Scottish accent.) as the colonel wasn't looking, someone stabbed him in the back, and aye, it wasn't foe - but friend - who started the attack, and now we've set about-face and we're ne'er looking back, as we keep marching on... Chorus: we will fight the coalition, there's nae time fer indecision, grab yer sword - we're on a mission, as we keep marching on... they're spewing hate and sland'rous chaff around the bloody place, their tactics, while amusing, are a pitiful disgrace, their captain's marching forward with an egg upon his face, as we keep marching on... (Chorus) and we'll be plodding onward 'til this heinous phase is passed, for when yer walls are built wi' spite, yer fortress will not last, and if ye bare yer teeth again, we'll bite ye in the ass, as we keep marching on! (Chorus) ........................................ this is what happens when someone fills me full o'piss-n-vinegar. i gets all snarky-like.
|
|||
| |||
|
the cat shat
|
|||
| |||
|
W E S T E R N U N I O N . . . _ _ _ . . . PAUSE . . . _ _ _ . . . in a lengthy concatenation of events the borders between kin and crony have become inexplicably intertwined normally i wouldn't mind 'the more, the merrier' - i always say STOP but through the trusts that have been violated and the tensions that have ebbed plus the foreseeable danger that will ensue the pot has reached it's boiling point STOP meltdown is imminent the blacksmith is at his anvil something will be wrought within a fortnight an intervention will transpire STOP wish us luck we'll be the ones in the trenches with our tin hats on sorry to be so elusive but certain coordinates cannot be revealed danger is nigh END TRANSMISSION 
|
|||
| |||
|
one day in the kitchen, I dropped a plate. the plate shattered into numerous pieces. i could see the brand etching on the back of the plate which read: Baroque Ceramic
|
|||
| |||
|
Sometimes my dreams are like hyped previews for movies that have never been produced: ........................................ Dark Betty of the Ice Zombies *Cue dark, ominously suspenseful music.* My name is Betty, Dark Betty - as I’m known. I kill zombies – well, a certain breed of zombies that are attracted to ice Just the other day, I was in a department store looking for make-up were near approaching the bar. I gulped the two drinks down and then
It’s a dirty job, but I’m up for the challenge. *Ice zombie groaning in background* Gotta run!!
|
|||
| |||
|
sometimes it's like you're here sitting in the corner of my eye only to dash away as my vision shifts like a distant memory as if you were never there at all sometimes i can hear your voice Sometimes can feel you here tomorrow
|
|||
| |||
|
The science of limericks has always intrigued me.
|
|||
| |||||
|
she had been sick for several days now. she was only 9 years of age and the doctors had already given up on a cure. had we been any other family, we would've called for a clergyman a long time ago, but my father was not a god-fearing man. he believed that there was a logical and scientific explanation for everything...so we waited....but logic and science never came to save us. it all started when my sister was having uncharacteristically violent fits of the most appalling nature, which quickly progressed to where she was dangerous not only to us, but to herself as well - so she had to be restrained in a bed-ridden state, "only until she gets better," said my father. you could always tell when she was not in her own head - for anything in her upstairs room that ran on electricity - lights, record players, radios, etc. would flicker off until her spell was over, then they'd come back on and the room would appear as if nothing had happened. the time finally came to where i was to be sent away to stay with a nearby relative until things subsided. not only was my father concerned for my own safety, but he could no longer bear my worried demeanor and defeated stance every time i tried to nurse my dear afflicted sister back to health, but was only turned away by her violent threats and curses. so that night i was packing my clothes and a few treasured belongings so that i wouldn't be quite so homesick while i was away. i carried my travel trunk downstairs to where my father was waiting to bid me farewell. i told him to wait while i told my sister good-bye ( i had a strange suspicion that i might never see her again.) i went upstairs to her room and cracked open the door. the light from the hallway spilled upon her face - she was sleeping. So peaceful and serene- unlike many moments during her waking - i wanted to remember her like this, so best not to wake her. i came downstairs to the front parlor where father was listening to an evening news broadcast on the radio set. i had just grabbed my coat when all of a sudden, the table lamp had flickered off, the newscaster on the radio no longer chattered, and the comforting orange glow of the radio dial was now black. how could this be happening? my sister was upstairs sound asleep - she wasn't here with us...unless... there was enough light coming into the parlor from the street lamp outside that i could see clearly what was going on. i looked at my father's face and only saw a blank stare. this was the same look i had seen many times on my sister's face right before she had an attack. oh no! whatever it is that plagues her - now had poor father in it's grasp! right then, my father slowly turned his head and gave me a look that was anything but what normally came from the eyes of an endearing father. he asked me where might be going on a night like this and then lunged at me. i jumped back, grabbed my coat and ran out the door. i ran down the front walk. i knew i had left my trunk in the house but there was no way that i was going back inside the house. not until i could find help... ........................................ P.S. this is most likely a result of the multitude of possession-related horror movies that i've watched. one difference is that, for some reason, this demon was contagious! What's stranger still, is that I don't have a sister, and I was never raised by a single father - let alone one that wasn't religious.
|
|||||
| |||||
|
there was a rash of odd crimes being reported- the crimes were in regards to a sadistic trend called "zombie modeling." This type of modeling basically involved men taking women hostage in public restrooms and kidnapping the ladies that were beautiful, to moderately good-looking. From there, the women were transported to "studios" where their finger nails and toenails are removed, and their skin is burned with hydrochloric acid - all in order to achieve that visceral, cryptkeeper- like appearance. after that, the women are forced to model in unmentionables, erotic apparel, in the nude, or even in highly fashionable attire. this form of photographic "art and expression" was highly sought after by everyone from chic fashion companies, to the pornography industry. after these "modeling sessions," the girls were either shipped off to sweatshops- or if their wounds and burns were fatal; the bodies were quickly disposed of. most of these women stayed in the sweatshops at their own will because they were too vain to contact their loved ones and let themselves be seen in such a horrifying state. so many of these women were just never heard from again. i was staying at the adam's mark hotel in dallas. i went to use the restroom near the lobby, and while i was in there, the lights went out and I heard men's voices and women's screams. i crawled quietly on the floor underneath several now-empty stalls and hid under the line of sinks. the other screams had subsided- i knew they were looking for me in the complete darkness. i heard footfalls on the commercial tile floors coming towards me. at this point, i bolted towards the general vicinity of the door. a large man's hand grabbed my arm, and I kicked, punched, and wrenched myself loose from the grasp and ran out of the bathroom. i quickly walked back to my room, and on the way i noticed that every man dressed in a nice suit was eying me as if to say, "you're next." once in my suite, I gathered my belongings and called my boyfriend to pick me up, insisting that he meet me at my room. i heard a man knocking at my door calling out, "room service!" what!? (i had not requested room service.) 
|
|||||
| |||
|
while the soil of my heart's longing pace is what they wish to till hope the scars of past won't leave a trace but i know they always will though salty tears stream down my face i shall never cease too feel that it's within every lonely place where the sorrow's sweeter still ..but from this death in which i sleep whilst angels hold their breath now rise - triumphant from the tomb - a love that conquers death! 
|
|||
| |||||
|
so here we are once again, sitting in the holding tank, waiting for something to grasp so that we may be reminded of our humanity. in a world where ticks and tocks measure what we do and for how long. where most of us just can't seem to say the right aphorism because, sometimes, it seems that all of the paradoxes and metonymys seem more complex under the surface of the ability of description. so with a bat of an eye and a thesaurus, we give an open- ended attempt to wish you well because frankly, no one is going to care, because everyone and everything seems to be controlled by a god. a certain power that can best be described as one who sits in a rocker and watches in bored fascination as a fly tediously picks his way along the wall of stability. so instead of cutting to the real gravy train, we simply empty out the whole doggie-bag so that others can see just exactly how cool we are. songs are written and substances are taken so that we may force such emotions that may otherwise be taken for granted. and somewhere along that road, we turn around and look at the final debris and realize soberly that gee, something was lost somewhere in the middle. but we don't stop, no. we count the instances between the supernatural and the extra-terrestrial, and think that everything is under our control, and that we know exactly what lies over the blue moon, and exactly what our impression is of the whole apple. but forget about the whole damned apple. the passing shuttle bus of NOW is here and it doesn't matter because time has a cruel grasp of the blue marble. and we, the children who are trying to eat popsicles and rollerskate while remembering not to get drippy, can't do a damn thing about it. all of this because through the vague notice of critics, surgeon generals, and psychopaths, we have now come to the conclusion that, in fact, the pied piper has no idea where he is leading us. the continents shift, and the occasional volcano belches, only as a reminder of exactly what our feet are stuck to. so if we can't find what we want at this store, we simply move on to the next, only to find out that our pennies are nogood there, either. in conclusion, we should not rely on artists and their mad-libbed speech to help us find the soluble/dissolvable fun we're looking for. the only antidote is to throw our hands up, scratch our brains, and simply admit - this is really big, so i guess i should pick up my bucket of rocks and throw it in the water because this is way over my head. ....i give you all of this and a burlap sack, because no one knows where the next snipe is hiding. go catch it, because on the way you'll realize that maybe this is the way things should be. 
|
|||||
meh-heh
cold
sullen
moo?
nerdy
peaceful
silly
tired
calm
contemplative