Moments lost in time

4:08am: FUNGI and DONE are sat opposite each other with spoons in their mouths. As DOTS enters, Fungi flicks his head up and raps DONE on the head with his spoon.
DONE grimaces, and the spoon drops from his mouth.
DONE: Dots, dude, you gotta help me out here! Fungi is unbeatable!
DOTS: ...Unbeatable at WHAT?
DONE: Oh, man, you've never played the spoon game before?
DOTS: Spoon game?
FUNGI: Yeah, I'm the campus champion... undefeated in forty seven matches.
DONE: The pot's getting pretty big now.
FUNGI: Yeah, I have to buy anyone that beats me six drinks.
FUNGI: Of course, it's never going to happen.
DONE: Although... Dots, you used to sing, right?
DOTS: A little, yeah... why?
FUNGI appears afraid.
FUNGI: Oh, shit, you didn't say he used to sing!
DONE: Nothing is better for your neck mucles than singing. Pavarotti is actually the world champion... he beat Domingo out in a three-hour match.
Man, it was epic. You really didn't know this?
DOTS: Wait, why is he worried that I sing?
DONE: I've got a good feeling about you, man! You could finally topple this guy! I mean, six free drinks! Less one for my agent's fee, of course.
DOTS: And you really think I could win?
DONE: Look at him! He's quaking!
FUNGI loosens his collar and swallows.
DOTS: ...Fine, I'm in. How do you play, exactly?
FUNGI rubs his face, then exhales loudly and clicks his neck.
FUNGI: Fine, you want to mess with the champ? You take the spoon in your mouth, like so...
FUNGI grips the spoon in his teeth.
FUNGI: *Garbled speech*
DOTS:..Pardon?
FUNGI removes the spoon from his mouth.
FUNGI: I said "And then you hit them in the head with it."
DONE: Simple, right? First person to drop the spoon loses.
DOTS: Okay, let's do this. Fungi, you ready?
FUNGI: I don't know about ready, but I guess I don't have a choice.
FUNGI and DOTS grip their spoons and face each other in the spooner's crouch.
DONE: Challenger gets the first hit. You ready, Dots?
DOTS nods, then draws back his head to strike. Fungi rests his chin on his chest and DOTS strikes. Fungi is clearly pained, and groans slightly.
DONE: Ooh, great strike! He's really on the ropes!
DOTS now bows his head and FUNGI raises his spoon... but as he does so, DONE raises a spoon from behind his back and brings it down on DOTS' head with mild force. DOTS is severly pained, and nearly drops his spoon.
DONE: Wow, he's losing it! I've never seen Fungi hit that weakly before! You can really do this!
This proceeds for a few more turns, until DOTS finally gives up and drops the spoon.
DOTS:... unbelievable! How the hell did he hit so hard?
DONE shows the spoon behind his back and grins.
DOTS: Oh, fuck you guys.

2:56am: INTHESTO stands at the front of the stage, lifting free weights. CHAN is a little behind, sat down and gazing at INTHESTO with longing. NICO stands stage left, enviously looking at CHAN.
INTHESTO puts the weight down and turns around, noticing CHAN and NICO.
INTHESTO: Hey, Chan, Nico, what's going on?
CHAN is surprised, looks at NICO.
CHAN: Nico! When did you get here?
NICO: Not long ago... I was enjoying the view.
CHAN: It IS pretty nice, isn't it?
NICO:... Heh.
NICO smiles ruefully and looks down.
NICO, sotto voce: Different view, hun.
INTHESTO: I'm sorry, am I interrupting something? Or did you bust in to my workout just to have subtextual dialogue?
CHAN: Sorry, I was hoping to borrow your weights. After all...
CHAN approaches and wraps a hand around INTHESTO'S bicep.
Chan: They've had such a marvelous effect.
INTHESTO frees his arm.
INTHESTO: Sure, go ahead, just... clean them once you're done, okay?
NICO raises a hand and prepares to speak, but gives up and slumps with an air of defeat.
NICO: I guess there really isn't any point in trying, is there? Inthesto... be careful with Chan, okay? If I find out you made our Chan cry, it will NOT end well for you.
INTHESTO: ...What the fuck are you talking abo-
CHAN: I'm sorry, Nico! I didn't... I didn't know you felt that way.
CHAN: You've always been such a good friend to me, but I... I just can't feel the same about you.
INTHESTO: I repeat, what the FUCK are you talking about?
NICO: How the hell can you not see the way Chan looks at you? If looks could undress, you would be naked and sweaty right the hell now.
INTHESTO: Chan? But I thought you and Nico...
CHAN: With Nico? Please, Nico is like a sibling to me, I could never...
NICO: And so, I take my bow. So long, Chan... Inthesto - Good luck to you.

11:52am: I've re-opened this journal (after excising certain content) because I quite like some of the stuff in it, plus I miss you guys.
However, it probably won't be updated much, and will serve as more of a writing journal, because I'm already juggling two other accounts.
So hey, whatever.

9:48am: For the sake of posting at least SOMETHING....
(Stolen from entwined_in_ivy)
"If you have anything to say to the person who posts this, say it to them. If you love them, tell them. If you hate them, tell them. Whatever you have to say to this person, even if it's something you're having trouble saying, if the person posts this entry, say it to them. You may never get a chance to again, so just do it."
...In which we find out how little impact I've actually had on you people.

8:53am: Leaving in 67 minutes
Going-away party last night, terribly hung-over this morning.
Four hour car journey ahead.
Trying not to vomit, but no promises can be made.

5:55pm: This must be a thursday. I never could get the hang of thursdays.
Just a brief update, as I am frantically packing.
This sunday, I finally get out of the hell-hole that is Nottingham, and move into UNIVERSITY! Pwnage!
I'm nervous as all hell though, because I don't know if I'll make friends, or like my room, or whatever, but I'm not letting myself think about it.

On the flip-side of the coin, though, my sleep patterns are getting more and more erratic, I keep having terrible nightmares of blood and metal and horrible, horrible things happening to people.
Do you know how badly designed the human body is?
How easily it can be broken and torn?
And I know that there's absolutely nothing to stop me exploiting that, and it scares me a little that I can even think of such things, even if it's only in my dreams.

1:26am: I want a T-shirt that says "Optimus Prime died for YOUR sins!".
It is now half past one in the morning, I have slept for approximately 8 hours in the past three days.
Also, my Myspace (http://www.myspace.com/magic_aki) could use some loving.
That is all.
England Prevails.

7:29pm: Imitations of Life
My series, entitled "Imitatations of Life." All but one have their base in things that actually happened, either to me or to people close to me.
They are intended as snapshots of moments in time, brief instances in the lives of the unimportant.

***************************************************************

His love is given to silicon, his heart spilled on the unfeeling capacitors of his binary mistress.
It's cold where he is, so cold, and she doesn't love him,
not really.
He knows that know.
He marvels at the city:
From above, it's one big circuit, people carrying the
lightning in their hearts and giving it to friends,
to lovers, to family, to complete strangers, but never to him.
He's cold, and he's alone, and he watches it from above, and in his head he can hear her laughter,
as cold as he is.
The city grows brighter, and as the circuit rushes towards him, for a moment he understands
what it is to be part of something.

***************************************************************


With the noise and the darkness and the smoky confusion, the club could easily be mistaken for hell by the untrained eye.
He was leant against the closed-up bar, wondering why he was there in the first place - The music was okay, but it was
too small and he was hemmed in by the thronging mass of people undulating with the beat.
You things things things of the flesh do it slow
Down avenues fuck me lust my eyes
Sickened by the heaving, throbbing crowd trapped in their Dionysian revelry he pushed his way through, scalded by
the warmth of their bodies and longing for the liquid embrace of the cool, dark night, the streetlights glowing in their halos of rain.
As he neared the doors, he turned for one last glimpse back at the dancers, their bodies congealing into a single entity of sweat and stink
and soul and motion
So pure
So rare
To witness such an earthly goddess
She was making her way through the pit towards him, her half-open eyes locked directly on his own downcast orbs, a creature of
pure sound and beauty, parting the unthinking crowd simply by her majesty, twisting this way and that as though she had a baseline for a pulse.
I'd sell
My soul
My self-esteem a dollar at a time
One chance
One kiss
One taste of you my magdalena

She came closer and closer, and as she was within a distance for him to touch he opened his mouth to ask her
the thousand tiny questions that seem so important in that tiny slice of life when you see the person that makes your heart beat again.
And she was past him, and she was into the street, and she was lost.
Still I don't have any money money money
My body suffers after the flesh

*********************************

*-cli-cli-cli-*
Metal slides on metal, the cylinder spins.
He played most nights, and he hadn't lost yet.
But there's a first time for everything, right?
He found it pleasant to let it all slip from his fingers, let the nimble hands of fate take responsibility for him.
"Father, take this burden from me..."
And in a way, he had.
It was his revolver, after all.
He lovingly caressed the sandalwood butt, tracing his fingers over the inscription.
"...Why hast thou forsaken me?"
He slammed his fist into the table.
"Why did you die?
Didn't you know I needed you?"

A soldier's life was always at risk, he knew that as well as anyone else, and he knew that someone had to
sacrifice themselves for the cause, but why did it have to be HIS father?

*-cli-cli-CLICK-*
Metal scrapes on metal, the cylinder stops.

On the table was a book, something militaristic by Heinlein.
"To place his body between his beloved home and war's devastation...
What of home would rather have the devastation than lose the body?
Does that... Does that make me a bad person?"
He snapped his wrist in a way practised in front of the TV for hours, slipping the cylinder into the firing position.
"There are enough bad people in the world..."
He placed the gun to his lips.
"Bang..."

He hadn't lost yet.
But there's a first time for everything.
Right?

****************************************

He walked the streets, looking for a place to stay.
No room. No room. No room.
The garish neon signs seemed to close in around him, the clashing colours throwing
sickening highlights onto his face.
For the first time, he missed being back in the country.
The dull, stolid, countryside where he spent his youth.
He tried not to think back, tried to put no weight on his past, but it was hard.
So very hard.

The smoke was everywhere.
Sweet lady, the SMOKE!
Used to nothing worse than the occasional burning cowpat (or burning cow, depending on how drunk the Kents got,)
the all-encompassing smoke filled his lungs, making his eyes water so as to leave him blind.
If this city were a woman, he thought, it'd be past-its-prime whore, sucking the money from the
pockets of the millions who walked its streets in exchange for... for what?
What did the city give back?
It was only his first day, and already he hated it, the demon city.

Finally, he abandoned his attempt to find lodgings and simply walked out of the city, a terrible pain in his heart.
He wasn't looking forward to the morning, to having to return and admit his failure.
He sat for a while on a hill, and wept into his hands.
His eyes full of tears, he took another look at the hated city, sprawled before him in the ebon of night.
And he took another look.
And another.

Stretched out for miles in front of him was a starscape in miniature, a sparkling cosmos
and red and yellow and the hundred other colours of the neon rainbow, twinkling in the bosom of the plain.
He understood, then the fact of it, the thing his parents had
failed to see when they decided to raise him in "The midst of nature's beauty":

Beauty is where you look for it.

********************************

The girl stood on the cliff.
He brought her here.
He loved her once (He never loved her. No-one ever loved her. She was unloved.), and she loved him still, and so they stood, the girl and the cliff.

The girl stood on the cliff.
The moon loked on, the ivory light glistening through her tears, bathing her in harsh cold reality.
It shined on, uncaring, and so they stood, the girl and the cliff and the moon.

The girl stood on the cliff.
The sea boiled below her, the waves washing over the rocks like a tongue licking over its fanged maw, roaring and crashing.
It whispered its sibilant song to her, and so they stood, the girl and the cliff and the moon and the sea.

The girl stood on the cliff.
The angel stood behind her, his invisible wings a comforting shield.
He had always been with her, guarding and guiding, and his hot breath prickled against her ear.
Its face was his face, and so they stood, the girl and the cliff and the moon and the sea and the angel.

The angel stood on the cliff, bathed in the moonlight and the sea spray.

Then, the cliff stood alone.


**********************************************************


She doesn't love the broken boy. Why would she?
He sits, a crystal gargoyle watching over her from his lonely perch and she turns to him for support, unshakable as he is, but she doesn't love him.
She blithely tells him about her sweetheart, asks him whether or not he thinks he'd like this dress, and inside he breaks but outside he's strong, dependable, because if he isn't then what does he have left?
The borken boy sits alone, with the rest of the shattered toys, and he dreams of what he will never know.
He wonders if it should hurt, the gap inside, the bit of him that's missing, the bit that would make it all make sense, the bit that would make him not broken anymore.
And he's happy for her despite himself, happy that she doesn't have to be with the broken boy.
But it doesn't make the hollowness go away.


****************************************************************


I am the assassin, flittering through the palace of your mind on serotonin wings.
I am the assassin, and by the time you’ve realised, you know it’s too late.
I am the assassin, and you let me in when you stretched out your hand to the boy with no smile.
I am the assassin, and I don't want to hurt you but I will, because hurting is all I know how to do.
I’m the assassin of your heart, and I kill you because I love you because I kill you.


****************************************************************


The first cut is never the deepest, but it's always the best.
I tease my arm with the point first, the scrape raising white flesh and whispering to me the sweet promise of pain to come. Then I push down, the loving glow of the cathode tubes gleaming off the blade and slowly being swallowed into the rich, crimson darkness that starts to spread, and I find myself thinking of songs.
You bring me closer to god…
Every nerve in my arm screams for me to take it away, but I am stronger and I finish the cut, reaching for the alcohol on the desk.
I pour it on and it burns, and in that moment I am alive.



She sparkles and dances and sparkles and dances in the space between seconds, nesting between the strands that hold the world together, and she will never be mine.

Her face is on every monitor, every computer’s dream and every hacker’s fantasy.
Her voice is the melodic tinkle of electricity in the wire, her lullaby the hum of a million calculations in a million silicon hearts and she will never be mine.

She dives into our private sins and secret salvations, absorbing without judgement.
Her heart is out there, somewhere, and it will never be mine.

So why do I chase her?
Because she will never be mine.

7:21pm: Inspiration, and the lack thereof
I'm sorry I've not posted recently, but I've been alternately busy and bored stiff - two conditions that don't tend to contribute to inspiration.
However, news: My Father just had surgery on his knee to correct a cartilage growth that was impeding his movement. He's fine, but for a weeks he won't be able to walk so I'm acting as his Gopher. It's pretty cool, we're getting to know each other a lot better, and I'm learning a lot... today, we discussed the Israel/Palestine situation, and its historical context. (In brief, Israel is A-ok and their army is just plain SCARY.)
Also! A-level results came out today, and I scored sufficiently to get into my university. Yay for me.

I'm also going to post in my next entry my collected works from the Stardustsouls community, because I'm bored stiff.

4:37pm: I'm just glad I got out when I did.
So.
Two days after I left London, a major terrorist incident occured, with 21 people being killed at the very station that I left from.
This is why I consider it the duty of every able man to join the army, to protect the innocent from having to face this.

6:07pm: Day two, Part two.
“…But I’m quite happy with what I’ve got.”

--Or—

A stranger’s London Travelogue Day two, Part two.

( Plenty more pictures this time round. )

5:53pm: Day two, Part one:
“Some people might say my life is in a rut…”

--Or--

A stranger’s London Travelogue, Day two part one.

( Just the one this time, but still. )

4:54pm: Travelling posts!
“Do not look upon it, for its name is MADNESS!"

--Or--

A stranger’s London Travelogue, Day 1.”

( Multiple pictures behind cut )

8:38pm: The weather is foul, and I hate the world and everything in it.
It's been unbearably hot for the past three days now, and when you add that to my exam worries, that spells irritability and no sleep.
For the past few days, I've been desiring more and more to buy an axe, walk into a public place, and scream "Blood for the blood god!" then see how many police it takes to bring me down.
I hate the summer.

1:25am: So, Skype.
It's a free program that turns your computer into a phone.
For a sum, you can call actuall phones, but for free you can phone other Skype-using computers.
My Skype name is Khoryos, and I'd love to hear from you!

1:35am: I just cleared the Nukees archive...
In one sitting.
It's now 0136 hours, and oh goddess my brain.

8:56pm: Worst night out EVER.
May Ball itself was dull to the extreme.
Crap music, rigged awards ceremony, bar run by jerks.
About half-way through the evening, a group of people decides that they're bored too, so they leave to, as it were, "hit the town."
We wander for half an hour before concluding that it's too late and all the bars are closed.
We go to a nightclub, I'm the only one of the group refused entry.
So they go in without me, and I get the bus home.
Oh, and I got completely shot down, too.

On the upside, Revenge of the Sith was pretty good.

6:58pm: ...I was going to post about a silly dream I had last night, but everyone else on my Flist appears to be really down.
So, as a mark of respect, I won't.
.
.
.
Also, Both online and in reality, I know a disproportionate number of lesbians.

4:56pm: "I aten't dead!"
It's been a while since I updated, hasn't it?
Well, last week I went to the military base in Westbury to do the first half of the Commissioning procedure, to earn a place at Sandhurst.
I didn't get the score I needed for a gap-year commission, but I did still get a good score so I can go once I finish with university.
I also got severe rope-burns in two of my fingers, effectively preventing me from actually gripping anything.
It's really rather annoying, but they're almost healed now, thankfully.

It's my May Ball (Or as you colonials would have it, "Prom") in two weeks!
I still don't know if I'm going to rent a tuxedo or just go in a normal suit, and I don't have a date.
Or maybe I do.
females go out of their way to make things confusing for us men, I swear it.

9:30pm: Interview meme!
Courtesy of cuprohastes
"The Rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by asking you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will post the answers to the questions (and the questions themselves) on your LJ.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post. (or a separate post, but not too long after. Be honest here, people!)
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions."

1) A Bunch of Aliens land, grab you and take you to their leader, who in says to you, "OK, we have the means to free your planet from material need here, and we'll give it to you. On the other hand we saw "The OC" and now we want to vaporise your planet and go home for BBQ Gronx. So you have a minute to persuade us to let your planet live." What do you tell them?
2) What three words and one colour best describes you and why?
3) Ice cream... Or banana Fritters? Why?
4) If you could do anything, what would it be?
5) You die, and hey, there really is an afterlife! Unfortunately, the Buddhists were right, and you have to come back. What are you re-incarnated as, and why?

1) "Dude, I wanted to nuke the planet after the OC. Go right ahead."
2) Tired, Confused, Hungry, and Blue.
3) Ice Cream. I'm just not that big a fan of bananas, other than with peanut butter in a sandwich.
4) Fly.
5) Given my bad karma... probably an accountant or worse yet, a lawyer.

So, who's next!

10:58pm:

10:26pm: As I'm sure you're aware by now, I'm not the most, shall we say "Stable" of people.
So why is it ME people come to when they want advice or just to unload their problems?
That just... doesn't seem fair.
Not when there's no-one to do it for me.

11:00pm: Six hours of Doom 3 straight.
It took me from the Comm centre right through to the end of the game.
And now I can't stop twitching.

10:46pm: Ever get that feeling?
Like you're pissing into the wind?

11:31pm: Idea stolen from entwined_in_ivy
Lyrics! Lovely shiny lyrics!
Guess the song+artist to win self-respect!

1: Talk about me, laugh about me, cry about me, nail me to the cross.
2: Oh how I wished for soothing rain / all I wish is to dream again
3: Roy Orbison singin' for the lonely... hey that's me, and I want you to hold me.
4: Science! Brings gifts of convience, to the modern man!
5: What does the freefall feel like?
6: They'll ask me how I got her an' I'll say: "I saved my money!"
7: You can act real rude and totally removed
8: When the day is dawnin' on a sunny Texas mornin'
9: At night we ride to mansions of glory in suicide machines
10: They want a piece of your skin / Pump it safer than / than a suicide
11: I don't feel a thing / and I've stopped remembering
12: Hell's full, time to empty / Human flesh, feeding frenzy.
13: And I don't understand why I sleep all day
14: "Why are you so far away?" she said
15: He do the song about the simple lovin' woman... he do the song about the knife.
16: The window burns to light the way back home / the light that warms no matter they go.
17: I got somethin' to say: I raped your mother today, and it doesn't matter much to me
18: I'm playing a game, it's called insincerity
19: And though you turn from me, to glance behind

Google is cheating, and like Revolver Ocelot... I'll KNOW.