The Sewer Beyond Presents

Happy Thoughts

Thu, 24 Dec 2009 03:28:26 GMT

Another plug:
Starslip is like Star Trek and various other sci-fi works but the tone of the story makes it different. When shall there be a Jinxlet perfume? And when will my Jinxlet be returned from the clutches of the Chewie monster?

Read Starslip anyways.

----

Rant that may have been repeated on countless forums by other human units:

Personally, I believe hormones aren't an excuse to a monthly anger session, or an expectation for one. Speaking of the red-hued demon PMS. Just like Santa Claus, except the gift is naughty behaviour. Blaming it all on hormones discredits the viewpoints of women who have valid grievances against what they see as injustice. If I ignore PMS the emotional amplification goes away (if it was there in the first place, since I do get very opinionated).

I believed in a literal Santa Claus even though he brought trident sticks and bags of M & M's until reading internet discussions about his existence. Global Warming denial is much more sinister than Santa Claus anyhow...

Blue people

Thu, 24 Dec 2009 02:22:34 GMT

Predictably, the one movie you've probably heard of by now is Avatar. Livejournal had (or still has) a "journal idea" promotion for it. The Delgo people are trying to sue, but any similarities are due to there being a limited number of plots that appeal to humans. Karen Traviss put the number at 5. The difference between stories is achieved by altering the details. This is how Shakespeare became famous. His language was extra poetic but his plots were the same old plots that everyone identified with. You can't accuse this movie of being unoriginal because of its plot alone.

And plot buildup was not bad. That's where the camera angles come in. I'm not saying any more because that comes later, but my father, who usually scoffs at movies he has to pay for if the plots are bad (including Harry Potter & the Half-Blood Prince and The Clone Wars), liked this one. He sees plenty of action movies. Despite seeing this movie in the dead of night (10 pm is a little late for me) I never found myself wanting to get up and take a washroom break.

I think you should see it. Eye candy is meant to be seen. The aliens were much more convincing on the big screen than movie stills show them and the big-screen release shows all of the details, including the glowing dots I assume are part of the Na'vi nervous system. The huge budget went into good use with the visuals. I suspect the artists among you would like the way the alien environment is rendered, despite the fact that many of the animals have clear Earth parallels.

*It was amusing to hear Sijourney Weaver's voice come out of a blue person wearing a Stanford shirt. Ah, college application deadlines. I can't help but notice her character plays the opposite role of Ellen Ripley in the Alien movies.

*Is that a Dragon Riders of Pern reference? The first flight with the Banshee is oddly euphemistic, harking to the consummation of a marriage. That scene was handled very well anyhow. The insect-wing goggles worn by the Na'vi...

*The Home Tree is shaped like DNA. I hope everyone caught that reference.

*The Na'vi are oddly like the Ferroans from the New Jedi Order books, but this is likely a coincidence because the idea of a sentient/one-minded planet isn't that new, and it's even been advocated by famous evolutionist Lynn Margulis (yes, she also denies that HIV causes AIDS and humans are the main cause of global warming, but she had one now widely-accepted theory for the origin of cell organelles and writes good fiction about scientists in love). Blue people are a science fiction staple. So are tribal aliens. Sekot is a little more outright in announcing her presence than Eywa...

And if your name is Nenia, you should see this film if you haven't already because the Na'vi have slight Yuuzhan Vong vibes.

Appropriately, I saw a light turquoise bottle of perfume at Sears called "Avatar" just today...

Sleep late?

Tue, 01 Sep 2009 00:58:40 GMT

My edumacation in the juvenile internment square (secondary school) continues tomorrow. It's going to be a busy year.

Last night I slept plenty and had a dream where nematodes where crawling beneath the surface of my big toe (right foot). I woke in terror to find that this true had come true, only to wake again and find it was not.

I checked for nematode burrowing just in case. What's the remedy for nematode infection?

Oh, and please feed my Valenth critters. The site just came out with alternate colourations for all species and I need all the help I can get. If you can get all the "alt shoot" ones, I can feed your adoptables if you have any.

Wishful thinking

Sun, 03 May 2009 04:57:44 GMT

I have recurrent dreams in which the area beyond the hill linking my old neighbourhood to the town library is wide open pasture leading to southwestern desert, punctuated by a comic store, an open-air, tin-roofed ethnic eatery with questionable health ratings, and rhododendrons. It is beyond this a dry, lowered area is closed off by a wall of dirt. In this "valley", there is a McDonalds and a Burger King.

This McDonalds does not have a Happy Meal promotion. It does not have a dollar menu. Instead, there is a middle-aged southeast asian Man (perhaps a Malaysian) wearing a red apron and a triangular frycook hat. On the wall to my left are nearly empty bottles of soy sauce stacked on top of each other. He waits for customers to come in the dry wasteland.

Sometimes I dream I can travel from one place to the next very quickly. If I've forgotten my science textbook in a secluded little hotel in Georgia, I can return and fetch it.

I think these dreams reflect my desire to be closer to an actual mall. Cars are central to residents here.

Not busy, I promise

Fri, 24 Apr 2009 01:48:03 GMT

My mask is on display in the hall.

Squiby opened a few days ago. It is a user content-driven site, where most of the adoptables are made by regular members. I have designs in progress but am waiting for the uploading process to be fixed for IE users. Here is my profile. There's more adoptables there than the ones I have on display. Click them...

Veggie Attack

Fri, 03 Apr 2009 22:37:26 GMT

Tomorrow is the ComiCon. Mike Mignola will be there.

I'm going as Android 17. I don't have the right socks, but I'm hoping I'll be recognized.
I have the right hair colour for it, anyways, although I cannot get my nose adjusted to look more like his.

Speaking of Dragon Ball (Koge-Donbo visited Los Angeles and told the audience "...like all normal people, I like Dragon Ball". I think it's like Star Wars in Japan...) I'm going through a pancake phase. Yes, pancakes. There's a video behind this here cut.

I haven't had the proper preparation of the recipe, but something somewhat like it using korean pancake mix. I luckily had tuna flakes to go with it.

Oddly, the first thing that comes up in a Google search for "Vegeta Pancakes" is this. The chef on the logo even looks like Vegeta.

I saw cans and bags full of Vegeta seasoning at the same store selling the pancake mix, but I didn't have any money to buy any.

Extremely cute duet featuring a Studio Ghibli song
No!
And so inflation fetishes were fueled...

To sum it up:

"And i wanted to marry him when i was in the 4th grade." (real comment from Youtube)

Vegeeeeeeta.

It's because he's a bona-fide prince charming! And he used to have a tail...

I still think all the Super Saiyan (Chewbecca says "CYLON!") transformations with maybe the exception of level 4 look incredibly stupid. Vegeta is best with black hair.

The plausibility of...

Wed, 18 Mar 2009 01:05:00 GMT

That's a lot of people and no arable land!
If completely random you land...
No room!

There's more out there, I'm sure.

Souvenirs from the Backwoods Beyond

Sun, 08 Mar 2009 23:16:52 GMT

Photos I have taken :)

An indian pipe plant.

Fungus on a tree trunk

At the Amanda Palmer concert --- a skull with a party hat.

Chocolate Cauldrons

Skeletal chihuahua

Crystals on the bottom of an ice cream tub lid.

Writer's Block: Fearsome

Sun, 08 Feb 2009 22:39:06 GMT

The boogeyman, global thermonuclear war, being forced to eat broccoli—there's a lot to be afraid of when you're a kid. What was your biggest childhood fear?

View 501 Answers

The only notable one I can recall is being afraid of rotating fans. I couldn't stand how alive they were while being not alive (abomination! destroy!).

I can't mention that other one.

I'm very prone to getting lost at public events or shopping malls, but I wasn't afraid.

----

Oh by the way, do any of you know that the extended soundtrack for Repo! The Genetic Opera is coming out February 17th? Only at Hot Topic, of all places. The casting for it is very eclectic (Sarah Brightman and Paris Hilton in the same movie, joy!), but it's a sci-fi musical set in a crapsack world. Unexpectedly, the main character has certain parallels with Luke Skywalker, but only on the most basic level (her father has a double-identity, an "emperor" tries to sway her to the "dark side" in a figurative sense). The main character is guilty of the crime of being a girl and therefore the movie got a limited release for being too risky (other than being a musical, but Moulin Rouge! was a musical too and look how it did!). Repo is one of those things that needs financial support to get a decent release (the captions on the DVD were hilariously awful). I have a soft spot for entertainment that doesn't get as much attention as expected...

As a sampler, here's "Chromaggia" from said film.

Other news: Vienna Teng's Inland Territory was released in Europe on Friday. I went to her last Seattle concert and bought the albums I hadn't bought. I applaud the lyrics for being non-generic (a breakup ballad with the American Civil War as a metaphor?). Her official forum has live recordings of songs from the album as a sampler (if you know how to find music online you can hear the real deal, but this is public entry, no?)

In praise of Kroenen

Fri, 02 Jan 2009 00:27:39 GMT

He even has a pretty German girl. No wait, that's Cinderella.

I wonder whose New Year's it is.

Farthest Star, a Yuuzhan Vong Fanmix

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 23:26:18 GMT

Sewer Beyond Presents:

Farthest Star: A Yuuzhan Vong Fanmix
Art by Me

Concept by: Vua Senneq and the Mrrlbrrl Video Club
Starring: The MrrlBrrl Academy Masochist Club
As: the cast of the New Jeedai Order novels, Lukass Fiksiion press
Directed by: Limne Vector and the Magical Massage Chair

Tracklisting:

Part One
1.Maaya Sakamoto - Air & Stars (Kuuki to Hoshi)
2.Björk - Earth Intruders
3.Apocalyptica - Faraway
4.Yuki Kajiura - To Nowhere
5.Björk - Bachelorette
6.E Nomine - Zorn (Wrath, the 12 Forbidden Tones)
7. VNV Nation - Farthest Star
8. Yuki Kajiura - The World
9. Regina Spektor - On the Radio
10. The Dresden Dolls - Modern Moonlight
11. Yuki Kajiura - Foreigners
12. Regina Spektor - 20 Years of Snow
13. The Kaiser Chiefs - The Angry Mob
14. VNV Nation - Chrome
15. HUMANWINE - Dim Allentown Cove (part 1)
16. VNV Nation - Entropy
17. 300 OST - To Victory

Part Two
1.Apocalytpica - Life Burns!
2.Yuki Kajiura - Requiem for the Evil
3.Regina Spektor - Buildings
4.Helium Vola - Omnis Mundi Creatura
5.Peter Gabriel - A Different Drum
6.Jeff Wayne - Red Weed
7.David Bowie - Nature Boy
8.The Dresden Dolls - The Gardener
9.Tori Amos - Devils and Gods
10.Yuki Kajiura - In the Land of Twilight, Under the Moon
11.Scissor Sisters - It Can't Come Quickly Enough
12.Emilie Autumn - Shallott
13. T.A.T.U - Kosmos
14.Yuki Kajiura - Open Your Heart
15.Loreena Mckennitt - The Mummer's Dance

Behold!

Second Head, Fourth Word

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 01:00:56 GMT

It had been barely recognizable, small enough to cover with the palms of her hands, when Skande Ahll buried it in the nutrient feed with its body curled against its fat tail. In the logs, it was registered as a failed seed.
If the spindly female held it up to her dark eye, she could see it was her son. Or almost.
A pair of tiny arms clinging to her dark dress, afraid to let go. He was guilty for causing her to miscarry what would have been her second child, for exhuming the remains from the compost heap, for hiding them in his upstairs room in the townhouse they shared with five others. He hadn’t wanted a brother.
“Voh’nn,” she smoothed his messy mop of hair gently.
“I didn’t know he wanted it to grow! I don’t want it! I don’t want it!” he wailed pitifully, awaiting a swift slap to the cheek.
“It’s alright; Vasa must wait for the next time, if any.”
“I wish he would go away.”
“Vasa—I can’t tell him to leave. Especially not if your grandparents want him here.”
Only because he offered the genetic counselors bribes was he their favourite male.
“He’s not my father.” he pouted, crossing his arms.
“He takes care of you, doesn’t he?” Skande Ahll lifted Voh’nn off his feet, letting his legs dangle precariously.
“No! The crèche-nurse says that children come from— you know. So who was he?“ the little boy looked up inquisitively, eyes aglow.
“Someone. It was a long time ago...” she trailed off.
Whenever the subject was approached by the little boy, she stepped around it nervously. Oh, how did it begin?

He had no name, at least when they first met. Only a number adorned the entrance of his sleeping cell, and even then he could barely pronounce the first digit. He was an aging warrior, at least too crippled to fight, and kept alive only so he could be bred by the shapers, used. Over the years, his mind has scattered from an age-old injury sustained during battle with a younger foe. His family had given up, but oh...
But she was still a suitable mate for him, a prime scion of domain Seinheild. What a shame, they must have thought, that she had never produced a child! A date was scheduled, and Skande Ahll, darling of the sick bay, was led to the holding pen where they had moved him for breeding.
When they had met, he was the largest rhorqal she had ever seen, brooding in the dark and musk. Despondent and listless, he perked up like a companion animal when he detected another of his kind. She was not like the methodical caretakers in their coats of white, or the young r’urqa, who sneered as they passed, sharing dirty comments he could not understand but knew he hated.
Rather, she reminded him of someone he had loved, or lusted after, long ago, before the cold place with syringes and bottles and exercise courses. He hadn’t found a name for this one, but hers was good enough, and so he remembered another Skande Ahll, who had brought him as a gift a little moving bundle of miraque sucklings upon his first escalation. It was Skande Ahll who brought a basket of spring greens to his squadron in the mess hall during an intermission, and Skande Ahll who brought a stranger with a face sneering like a death mask, escorting him away one day, when his thoughts were feverish and his limbs heavy like stone hulls.
Skande Ahll—he could never pronounce her name right. It was no use to expect him to call it out, to prove his honesty, whenever they were alone and she let him touch her citrus-scented hair out of curiousity, to see if his nose was wet like a tracker whippet.

“Shkann….” He would say

Or the ever effective “Tsuppy, tsuppy!”

Wherever he had learned a word so obscene, she had yet to tell, but a great many things obscene remained unspoken when she left his company. Away writing wills for veterans wishing to die as cannon fodder, rather than wilt like cut blossoms in their beds. Bed…

Morning smelt of garlic and tasted of thirst when she had woken in her bunk and felt funny about this business of rising for work. Skande Ahll opened the little pamphlet under the pillow, bound primitively, and realized what it meant. Well, she was still…what was the word…a girl? And wasn’t it inevitable for any girl, albeit a very old one, who consorted with big, ugly males to pick up little guests? Pity pity, she was a nurse, and everyone knew how they knew immediately when a new parasite checked into the hospice. Her entire group of friends were hardly surprised when she reported in one day, swaddling Voh’nn in a community-issue blanket, nondescript in colour.
How they swarmed around her that day, commenting on the disadvantanges of natural birth, or what a fine specimen he would be, anticipating a handsome scar where she severed him in the birthing pool. If only he hadn’t had that other awful detail, he would have been the perfect warrior! She wrapped the sheets tighter.

“Let’s go.” She said, turning away from the mound where the mass that was almost a Yuuzhan Vong was buried.
Wide-eyed, trembling in his nursery gown, Voh’nn was lowered to his feet. They began to walk back to the hole in the wall where she resided by day, holding hands as if nothing had happened and nothing had died (for it was in the fickle nature of even the most precious parasites to perish by the thousands). She would not be returning to their commune-compartment, their usual destination after he was dismissed from class.

“Vasa won’t follow us, will he? After what he said about killing me for what I did?” he asked.

“No. He will not do that.”

Vasa was not welcome by her co-workers, and certainly not welcome to berate her for being so careless with his precious cargo. Were warriors, no matter how young, supposed to be unafraid of death, willing to bend to his wrath? Fool, if he had any honour about him, he would give a passing thought to the children he or his various, mostly unbearable, relatives, had no hand in siring. Or perhaps, he would not treat her as just another one of the lowly urchins that inhabitated the lower levels once she failed to be a useful womb.

You’re just as expendable as a lover, she thought.

The medical bay where domain Seinheild stored its documents was emblazoned with the perfume of sterility, a bitter, mechanical tang hanging in the doorvalve as she signaled it to open with the two remaining fingers on her right hand.
Clutching the other was Voh’nn, pulling the medical gown about him in embarrassment with his own right paw in familiarity. His exposed skin felt more vulnerable here. There were eyes watching everywhere, in the corners, behind the reception desk, mouths licking their lips hungrily, lethargic bodies with limbs contorted in pain from withering disease. The stench of death lingered; many came here to die, awaiting prompt escortation to the temple.
Skande Ahll sealed the entrance to the private room. Voh'nn curled against the warmth of his mother’s body as she lay down in her quarters, breathing heavily. Hung on platforms of different sizes and shapes were images; the eyes of saints with tails like sea-mammals, faces of mundane members of their lineage, storybook illustrations of the Ancestral Race, and younger versions of themselves happy and whole scrutinized the two bodies on the bed.
Fetching a sack of water from the rack under the portrait of the lecherous Saint Skannensis and his final beloved (for he had many, and it was his folly when she finally chopped off his tail and robbed him of his powers), Skande Ahll reflected on how this room had been that day, seven spitta ago.

In the middle of the room there had been a tub, fleshy pink, and her long, light-bleached hair spread about like the arms of a humongous sea frond in the warm water. Fifteen of twenty solar slivers had elapsed before she felt a climax to the pains she had been feeling, day by day, ket by ket, star by star on the astronomical charts, was in sight.
Outside sat two attending shapers in white unifroms, for she would allow no one inside until the child was birthed and severed. Up until now, they had hounded her endlessly, fascinated by her expanding belly and increasingly assertive behaviour in the way only those who had seen such sights hundreds of times before could. It was an obsession, an addiction, to see how quickly her temper roiled after constant scrutiny of her diet.
And now she had no one to turn her physical rage to, not even the nameless, mindless rhorqal who had impregnated her many moons ago, for his body had disappeared along with his identity in the back archives of the Dalli.
Enveloped in pain, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine someone watching as she entered the final spasms. Was she within the worldship, anywhere at all? For the split second before the pain ceased, she clung to a blankness, a void.
Perhaps it had been Saint Skannensis, with his sharp eyes and slick tongue, placing a wet cloth to her forehead, when in the pink haze of her mind a gash opened. Through it, she could see the water ripple, and a creature bobbing up and down in the black afterbirth, blinking in curiosity. Where had it come from? Then she saw.

By a sinuous blue cord it was tethered to its host, unsure whether it was supposed to swim away or come closer. With the hollow, needle-thin scalpel attached to her finger, Skande Ahll severed it effortlessly. For a moment, it sounded a cry more like a string of clicks, and then rested contentedly in the crook of her arm, baring two pairs of white milking teeth.

Three-fourths of a solar sliver had passed with the valve slid open, revealing Skande Ahll and the newborn, as yet to be determined in gender, resting in the gentle sway of the pool. A graveness had overcome her, her face drained of blue pigment, and her hair sapped of its vitality, dripping wet..

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she interrogated the first shaper.

“Whatever do you speak of?”

“About this!” she peeled back the robeskin enveloping the infant. A thin, whiplike appendage protruded where its backbone ended. A tail!

“It will be a perfectly healthy child, I assure you. In fact, in my domain it is a blessing from the ancestral race…” he tried to rationalize.

“You have very little idea of your own stupidity, do you? You should of informed me when I still had time to terminate. I have done more than waste my youth, which is vastly depleted. I am not a vessel for your petty values.”

“If you wish, I can cut it off.”

“No! You fool; it’s not the tail itself. Saint Skannensis does not allow his followers to reject his blessing, once it has been given.”

The shaper was truly ignorant of what had become of the last son of domain Seinheild who was born with a spindly tail coiled about him, and allowed to live past the date of sacrifice. The parents, the nursery…well, it had been too late to dispose of him then, when he had learned too much on how to escape his fate.

“Skannensis?”

“A commander from the Cremlevian War.”

“His image hangs in the nichè? I have seen a statue of a warrior with an adorphong tail in the temple. Wasn’t he heretical?”

“A devout follower of Yun-Yammka. It would anger him to take Voh’nn back so soon, and it would shame my domain to announce him as a fatally deformed child.” she corrected. The calf nestled against her belly slumbered peacefully where she had shifted him. She was sure now, gleaning over the little body.

“You wish to keep it intact?”

“I am sure he will die anyway; if I nurse him long enough, the stored toxins will be enough. Then there will be no need for the priests.”

“A son? You have named him?”

“It was the name I had planned to use two spitta ago. My plans did not come to fruition, due to various complications in the pregnancy.”

“You do not plan to send him to the crèche nurse?”

“No.” Of course, she would never have allowed it.

“May Yun-Ne’Shel be in your favour, then. You are required to fill out the forms, but you need not now, and I will leave you with the calf. I assume you need no further examination?” he looked over her prone form, draped only in an old robeskin.

“No.”

The Dal shaper nodded, and left the room. Skande Ahll remained seated, clutching her tiny son in the fading warmth of the pool.

In one armlength she left the past, once again sprawled on her bunk in the hospital wing. Voh’nn was peering through the ribs of the bedframe, oblivious to the past or future, not yet claimed by death.

It was on his eighth birthday, soon, when he would be one spitta closer to his fate. On that day, the blood harvesters with their cloaks of nothingness would lead him to the temple in penance for all the disappointment the Saint of Gimmel had bestowed him and his birth mother. How regretful, she thought, that he hadn’t perished in all the time that had passed since he had left her womb, succumbing to the toxins beneath her skin. How regretful, how the children crowded around him, staring in fear or mockery.

How regretful, she thought, that he had taken away what would have been the happiest day of her life, if not by the solar sliver, and replaced it with one measured by a hollow heaviness she could not describe, let alone find a word for! It was only a matter of time before he outlived his stay among the Yuuzhan Vong. Only a matter of time before Skande Ahll was left infertile, unadorned by the glory of battle, her youth far behind, her suitors departed. If only she hadn’t had to bury it, her second chance!

It had been barely formed, a tail, stubs for limbs, its dark pupil visible but unblinking, unknowing. A second head, an omen, representing their lives, how they would be severed like it had been from comfort, life, although it knew no anger or pride or love or the unnamed fourth. Yet still, it was incomplete, an unfaithful reproduction.

Only a theory, the shapers would have remarked, pointing to a false-color image of the universe, pointing to the spot in the qasah display where a name had been removed. There she would find sorr…….

Chocolate Skittles

Thu, 10 Apr 2008 00:27:37 GMT

I can't believe they're making these.

Also, I ought to consider the starlings around my house as illegal immigrants instead of pests...no starlicide, then. Although it's awful worrying...

Tibet, Tibet! Personal Dooku says it's only because people don't like a certain country that they want to protest. pfft.

Tue, 18 Mar 2008 01:46:26 GMT

The Theme Song to the Japanese Dub of TMNT (2003)

Any idea where I can get this song? Ninja Turtles...

There seems to be cooler Japanese versions of all the shows I end up watching :<

Plus this version makes the original series seem cool (although the said series is patchy in places).

(I would like said version of Clone Wars with Grievous).

Now what do I do with the tickets....

Mon, 28 Jan 2008 20:27:36 GMT

The Amanda Palmer concert I wanted to go to got cancelled D:
She is having surgery on her vocal chords.

Send goodwill and hopes of a full recovery shhhh....the post is on the Dresden Dolls forum under touring.

Sat, 26 Jan 2008 01:18:30 GMT

Please tell me how to edit out the ones I don't like D:

Create your own! By ga_woo using Web Services by Yahoo!

What rhymes with duck?

Sat, 05 Jan 2008 01:53:15 GMT

My sister tried a trick she learned from Apocalypto. Yes she watched an R-rated movie and she's 9. Gaaaaah she always butts into things like this. She made a teenage boy (perhaps college age) scared in the summer of 2006.

She tried to shoot m and m's at me just like Jaguar Paw did with the poison darts. I think these movies are rated R not because kids can't handle them, but because adults don't find any pleasure at using small, bullet-like projectiles because of what they see in a movie.

I want to watch that movie again and again and again but I had to return the DVD today. I find the Holcane warriors to be sexy, I already mentioned this to a certain Yuuzhan Vong spy.

Gorinapsids have star observatories built on mountains in the shape of American pyramids. The space elf dolphin folk like to flock around them to take vacation photos but never go inside them. They don't know the universe is too big to support their narrow-minded religious views, silly space elves.

There's a flock of Gorinapsids that lives in a star observatory. Each morning one of them gets picked on and sent across the desert to the supermarket to buy weasel fillets. Sometimes she trips down the staircase (recall that scene where they roll the bodies of sacrificed warriors down the pyramid) and sometimes the native weasels of the jungle go fanatical at the smell of their brine-coated domesticated brethren. She gets beaten up and goes on action movie chases home. They are surprised she is not a testosterone pumped hunter.

I'm compiling a list of songs to play as the soundtrack to this flock of bird people.

Sun, 30 Dec 2007 23:36:24 GMT

A stand of (possibly) old growth trees near my house is going to be razed to make room for condos. Ugh, I hate most architecture because it's UGLY. I can't stand the exteriors of most man-made structures. They are an eyesore. A bother. I wrote a song about a fisherman who wants to see all the castles around his thatched hut crumble because he's an old geezer.

I'm glad it's not going to be 2007 any more soon. I don't like the way the 7 looks next to the zeros. I don't like the color the year reminds me of. It's an eye-jabbing navy blue with muddy spots on it.

Hm....2000 is light pink with white stripes.
2001 is the same.
2002 is slightly pinker with a hint of yellow.
2003 is mango yellow.
2004 is azure, like a postcard beach.
2005 is dull orange, like dirt.
2006 is bright orange.

2008 is going to be purple. Eight is a purple number. Tell me I'm not nuts and that you can't see this on a google search XP

I was going to write another rant about my CD player, which is refusing to play the archive of Bjork songs I put on an mp3 CD for no good reason. I was just kidding about her being a Yuuzhan Vong spy!

Eeergk

Wed, 26 Dec 2007 20:01:23 GMT

Happy Life Day. Filter went crazy and ate the presents.

I got a box of chocolates and a Hello Kitty keychain. No I don't get very many presents most of the time. My first ever Christmas present was a pack of trident gum.

Skiing makes personal Dooku unhappy because I can't put them on. Trying to call Kara. Trying to finish watercolor pencil inclusive piece. Dissapointed it's not an improvement from a piece I did a year ago. Picture drawn on wrong side of watercolor paper. Might redo.

Bjork Umi is on the spine of the imaginary graphic novel version of Star by Star. Hiromu Arakawa puts characters who die in each volume of FmA on the spine images.

The Atheist Christmas Carol

Sun, 23 Dec 2007 03:07:29 GMT

(pssst....I can make cards but they'll never make it in time for Christmas. note me on Deviantart with the address and I can mail them)

Vienna Teng - The Atheist Christmas Carol

it's the season of grace coming out of the void
where a man is saved by a voice in the distance
it's the season of possible miracle cures
where hope is currency and death is not the last unknown
where time begins to fade
and age is welcome home

it's the season of eyes meeting over the noise
and holding fast with sharp realization
it's the season of cold making warmth a divine intervention
you are safe here you know now

don't forget
don't forget I love
I love
I love you

it's the season of scars and of wounds in the heart
of feeling the full weight of our burdens
it's the season of bowing our heads in the wind
and knowing we are not alone in fear
not alone in the dark

don't forget
don't forget I love
I love
I love you

I need a band name

Mon, 10 Dec 2007 05:28:28 GMT

This is a meme. Go to Wikipedia. Click "random article". This is your band name. Click "random article" again. This is the album name. Click it again [insert number] of times. These are the names of the songs on the album.
These are my results. I wish I was in a band that dressed up like monsters :P

1948 Pacific typhoon season - University of Northwestern Ohio

Somehow, all these tracks are unified by this theme.

1.Carlos R. Moreno
2.Flag of Cantabria
3.Shmuel Wosner
4.Ocean exploration
5.Bunny Rabbit
6.Teresa Ann Savoy
7.118th (North Waterloo) Battalion, CEF
8.Liberal Party candidates, 1999 Manitoba provincial election
9.Charles E Sexey
10.Donncoirce
11.2003 Spanish International Badminton Tournament
12.Castello della Magione
13.Bushū-Hino Station
14.William Squire Kenyon
15.Échezeaux
12

Sun, 09 Dec 2007 01:45:53 GMT

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=444MW-dBwcU

can somebody please tell me how to get this video to work, or at least provide the audio? I'm on Vista and the video never loads (plus google is blocked when I try to search for solutions because Vista blocks results with google video :/ )

Sat, 08 Dec 2007 01:47:46 GMT

sorry the entry about the predators had incorrect information :

.

Sat, 01 Dec 2007 23:15:58 GMT

I liked snow until I found out it was cold. In the face. I wave a lot of things in the face, but I shouldn't use the word things because it's cliche and therefore inapproriate for usage in respectable writing (but several songs I adore involve the word "things" in the lyrics). Respectable writing. A demonstration is outside, and I feel guilty for not being involved. Perhaps they are still there. If only it had not snowed today, and made Jacen Solo whip out his boombox. Lucasarts is supposedly going downhill for milking the Star Wars cash cow. I wonder if the Star Wars artists ever get the order to draw bigger boobs on their characters. I wouldn't dream of this with Elmira, although longer mammary cilia sound aesthetically appealing. The black milk is an aphrodisiac. I needn't prattle on. I made a card of meerkats. I'll wait until Tuesday. I will present on Bach sooner or later. Also, I'm considering buying Psychonauts. Video game store is right outside. I hope they have a used copy.

Hope the underground lake flows. I wish to be as noble as the pigeon in mating season...it's in a book I heard the original term. Tamed ostriches roam free but feral pigeons roam freer.

ummrrff

Sat, 01 Dec 2007 00:48:12 GMT

Nemo: The alternate version
The drinking game version of mean, of Nightwish's song.

The piano teacher is playing the praise game and providing pink lemonade. Reminds me of a bit of that song from the Dresden Dolls called Lonesome Organist with the weirdo teacher....what is the status on female movie soundtrack composers, anyways?

I'm being suspicious again. I had a mint from the sheriff (long story, no crime involved). I hope it's safe because I don't feel funny yet.