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Cleaning out the brain panNeed to un-clutter my brain. Need it out. Need to get it out. I need to focus. I did my driver's test the other week, passed it after a failing first attempt. Fuckers got me on the technical questions. Turns out I'm too cautious. But oh well. Have to keep typing. Can't stop. Need to get my mind focused. Wonder how actual writers do this for a living? Just force themselves to sit there and write? Huh. I'd end up falling asleep if I did that. Maybe if I did one of those five hour energy drink things, I could hunker down and stare hard enough for words to come out. Have you ever heard of The Eels? They're pretty awesome, even if it is just one dude. He's pretty freakin' talented. One man band, in a sense. He's a pretty good singer, even if his voice is a bit gruff. His songs fit his voice. Have to keep typing. Need to keep typing. I wonder why I hate my sister. It's not like I have a proper reason, at least not as a starting point. After a while I just didn't like her anymore. Same
A bad prologue to a bad novel~~~~~~~
Rain pitter patts across the graveyard, the fat drops drawn towards the blue, makeshift tent covering a burial. A large crowd, mostly men and women in dark, pressed, police uniform, some small families, a few random loners, all surrounding the open casket at the center of the unhappy mass. The occupant of said pine box is a tall older man, graying brown hair, stone faced, and his wrinkles, now worn grooves adorning his face, marks of pride honoured by hard working men. A brass police badge shines brightly on his chest, his arms draped at his waist and his fingers loosely crossed as if he was praying. Two figures are standing opposite the priest, just some feet away from the casket, a woman and a young boy, are his wife, a short, raven haired woman with a hand over her mouth, trying to cover her sobbing; And the child, just a nine year old boy, is his son, his hair contrasting his mothers with golden yellow. Eyes cracked with red fissure-like veins mix with steely anger show the
A short story and blatheringA man and his house
If one looks about the sky at a certain time of day, on a certain day on the calendar, in a certain place on the map, they'll see a small cloud floating by. The cloud is quite special, in its own right for atop its fluffy climax; it holds a man and his house. He is a normal man, bathes and shaves in the morning, eats toast with a little butter and jam, reads what literature he has while in the restroom, and even leaves for work after breakfast. The house is normal as well, it has no supernatural powers, it has lights that flick on and off with the touch of the switch, it has a glass window on each wall and a small porch out front. They simply float by, viewing the world from a large height. No one knows how it got onto the cloud, or how it stays on it. No one knows how the plumbing and lights still work either. They simply do.
You could call what the man does at work, 'work', but it really isn't. He simply walks through his door and strolls along avenues and alleywa
Parenting for Sex AddictsThe half-day.
We are not those folks that need an occasion to try. And that’s what they call it, too. Trying. As if the very idea of it is taxing. It’s not taxing and we are not those people.
No. We do not go by some magical calendar. Schedules aren’t really our thing in general. That’d be too organized. Too stuffy. Too… I don’t know… too planned. And we’re not the type of people whom plan.
If we could—plan—our lives would be much different. I think. It’s hard to say because this is how we’ve always been.
Our very togetherness is a result of impulse. I’m almost certain that the amount of time it took us to decide to move in together was significantly shorter than the amount of time it took us to remember each other’s names. We might have had our first conversation moments after that first… what I mean to say is we didn’t plan. Because planning would have been much t
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More