Breaking and secrets

We're taking something of a break from that ambition requiring project. I believe we can overcome a difficulty I'd thought we'd have much sooner than I'd anticipated and my friend is no longer having problems with t3h grrlz. In fact, he and his her seem to be getting on well. During my spar with boredom this afternoon I wrote another poem, so here I present...

Secrets

Secrets, secrets everywhere: the kind I'd like to keep
Secrets, secrets everywhere: let's bury 'em down deep
Secrets, secrets everywhere: they'd make me out a creep
Secrets, secrets everywhere: they never let me sleep
Secrets, secrets everywhere: to conclusions you may leap
Secrets, secrets everywhere: but I won't make a peep
Secrets, secrets everywhere: as common as our sheep
Secrets, secrets everywhere: with consequences steep
Secrets, secrets everywhere: my secrets that I'll keep

School work

Made this one at school, the only thing I'm not happy about is the fact that I didn't have time to find a color for the sidewalk so it's the same color as his neck. I don't know what a good color for sidewalk is in that picture as it always looks rather white to me but white looks wrong and I used most of the grey-scale as it was. Ok, now that I'm glancing at details again, the hair could be better, though it's alright and not bad for never having tried a hairstyle like that before. Wasn't sure how to manage the perspective of the street: I was in school and so couldn't find a reference, plus I don't think there's any streets that look like that around here, but it turned out alright too.

Alice

So, I felt like puttin a picture up. I haven't gotten the scanner to work for me yet so here's a rather poor computer rendering of Alice. (you know, provided blogger works proper like)

Grrl Probs

W3 r h4vn pr0bs w/ t3h Grrl5. My co-conspirator is having problems rendering them. He's only actually tried once, and those who saw it said it looked fine, but he poo-poo-ed it, saying it looked like a male. I suggested he draw a bunch today: he pointed out he'd be spending time with the rest of the pack and we both laughed about the consequences of perfecting art amongst wolves. He still better crank some out tomorrow though, even if they do look like crap. I've kinda ignored workin on what it appears will be largely my part for a while, I'll do some 'o that aftah this post. My source also hasn't sent me the information I requested though I was supposed to call him today, whoops. Mayhaps I will after this as well, but I doubt it: he's supposed to be gettin his beauty sleep about now (fat chance 'o that). The project still exists but Reality seems to be looking for another meal, hopefully I can save this idea from the beasts monstrous maw.

The beast returns

It was fresh from the womb, and rather healthy looking. The plan mewled in its newfound glory, unaware of the danger approaching. Slowly, the beast crept towards the nest, keeping low in the long grasses that hid it so well. In a moment of tensed muscles and rending flesh it was over: the plan had been slaughtered and the beast enjoyed yet another meal. Reality is thwarting me again. I may be headed towards a frozen waste instead. It's not the frozen waste part that's bad, it's the distance between here and there, and the fact that they may or may not offer the languages I'm interested in, though they mentioned sponsoring trips elsewhere so perhaps my luck may hold. As far as that ambition requiring project: it's taken a twist I'd not anticipated but it seems to be going forward. I've been working my butt off for it at the expense of other things of so called importance but I believe the fruit will be worth the effort. So far the basic outline is nearing completion and my friend may have a handle on the content soon.

Ambition does not run in my veins

I'm not an ambitious person. I'm likely far too content with my lot in life. Hence the ease of giving up on writing the novel. The bits and pieces don't mesh smoothly enough in all likelihood anyhow. However, that leaves the problem of all these story fragments still floating in my head. Well, I may've found sometin to sate many of my appetites, the writing included. The idea I proposed to my friend was likely not taken to seriously, but it has potential methinks. Might require ambition though, that means I'll need to think on it a lot more first. Oh and I'm headin to a place where I can learn languages I'm interested in, it's so nice :) (at least in theory anyhow, the beast may return and feast upon the organs of yet another poorly engineered plan)

Take a ride on the darker side...

So, this here is a re-writing of some earlier prose that I now find rather disturbing. Plus I've never thought it was particularly well written. Disturbances aside, it's always sounded like a wonderful inspiration...

The thing pulled itself out of the rift, brushing off the tendrils of shadowstuff that threatened to pull it back to whence it came. The mishapen gnarl of flesh began shaping itself. Slowly, arms, legs, an entire human body was standing naked in the back alley of city unfortunate enough to have this evil. The form shuddered and was suddenly clothed as any ordinary person might be. Walking from its hiding place, the thing went out into the world, learning of its ways, perfecting its disguise. Weeks later, a merchant convoy was being held up. The thieves were about to dispatch the civilians, when one of their lookouts let a bloodcurdling noise from his lips that spoke of unimaginable agony. Terrified, the bandits dropped everything and began running. Everytime one left the sight of the merchants, a spray of blood was seen and the same hellish noise issued from the poor soul's lips. As an eerie quiet settled in, a man covered in blood from head to toe approached the merchants. As one rose to express his thanks for being saved, the man's hand glowed black, and he tore the merchant open as though having claws of a great beast.

“I am not your saviour: I am the butcher come forth from styx. I am wrath incarnate come to visit death upon your lands. I come to bring terror. I come to kill and destroy. I come to feast upon your flesh. I send unrest before me, wield agony in my right hand and leave slaughter in my wake.”

By the time he had finished saying all this, not a soul was alive to atest that he had and the ground was bathed in blood. When travelers found the sight of this horror, the only sign of why it happened were 3 words, painted in blood on the side of a wagon.

“I am Erythnul.”

So, there's the macabre, please do comment, even if it is on the stability of my remaining sanity (the existence of which is in question)