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06/01 Direct Link

I find it rather charming that someone has donated $100 in order to have the picture of the pig removed.

Was the pig really so offensive that someone felt that the only possible course of action was to pay to ensure that the pig would move on?

Just part of human nature, I suppose. I rather liked the pig. His eyes seemed to offer encouragment at I was writing. His smile was always kind and loving. Sometimes I would talk to him, tell him my troubles.

Goodbye, pig. I enjoyed your eyes and bright smile and even brighter pink skin.

06/02 Direct Link
I had my last day of school yesterday.

It's all over. 7 years gone. Almost half of my life. Now I have to leave.

At the moment, there is no sadness. It doesn't seem real. It just seems to be another chapter. A chapter where the characters you have grown to love die, yet you still expect them to appear in the next sentance, or paragraph. Even the next book.

They never will. Not the ones that have died.

Wonderfully, this is an imperfect metaphor, as nobody I am friends with has died. I will see them again. I will.
06/03 Direct Link
Take a seat. Lie down.

I like looking at clouds.

You know, you can make them into any shape you want. Pick a shape, and the cloud will fit into it, if you look hard enough.

Kind of like our lives. Look hard enough, and we fit into any shape.

Same with other people. We look at them, and try to make them fit the shape we want. Trouble is, they're not always the shape we want them to be.

That is not a good thing.

No, I ca not be a dragon. You seem to have missed the point.
06/04 Direct Link
I've only just realised that I have a lopsided smile.

The left half of my lips is able to easliy scale the full height of my face and make a point piercing upwards.

Meanwhile, the right side of my face is more lax. Flatline, like a still heart. It will only rouse itself from its prone position for something of particular worth.

Only the purest of joy and mirth with make the right side of my face show appreciation. Anything less and it will remain prone. Limp, like a bad handshake or a rotten carrot.

There you are. My smile.
06/05 Direct Link
How the sky became blue. A true story.

Back when there were very few humans on the earth, the sky used to be grey. This was not a very helpful colour, as the people of the earth had no sign as to when it would a fine day, a stormy day or somewhere inbewteen.

Humanity decided to hold a committee. Many people came, and split into three main camps. Those who wanted the sky to be orange, those who wanted it to be red and those who wanted it to be yellow.

They couldn't decide which colour would be the best.
06/06 Direct Link
During that time, there were more Gods. We have a very poor selection today. Back then, you had the god of leaves, the the god of eyes, the god of silence. Even the god of amoebas.

The god we are concerned with is the god of the sea. He too wanted the colour of the sky to be something other than grey.

He wanted to sky to be blue. Beautiful blue. He loved the colour blue and wished it would cover all the world.

Secretly, he hatched a plan to turn the sky blue, thwarting the hopes of the humans.
06/07 Direct Link
The god of the sea found one particular stretch of water that was the bluest anyone had ever seen.

Imagine a cold day. Frost has started to form on your windowsill. You look closely at it, really closely, to the point that your stare almost melts it away. At the very tip of the frost-flake, a shimmering blue winks back at you.

That was how blue the water was.

The god of the sea started to extract all of that blueness. With a large needle, he sucked up all the blue and transferred it to a large, glass container.
06/08 Direct Link

All the blueness had finally been removed from the water. Instead, a red sheen had replaced the once vibrant blue.

This is where the red sea originated from.

Whilst all the humans were still debating over what colour the sky should be, the god of the sea attached small vials of the blueness to every bird he could find.

When the birds flew in the air, the vials exploded, covering the grey sky in blue.

The humans, once they realised what was happening, could only stand and stare in impotent silence as their careful plans were destroyed by the god.

06/09 Direct Link
The sky was now blue. It was blue when it was smiling and happy and a broiling black when angered. It mirrored the sea perfectly.

The humans did not like the god interfering in their affairs. So they hatched a plan.

When the god of the sea was asleep, the humans launched great rockets into the sky, full of orange, red and yellow.

When the sun rose or set, the sea god would be resting. That would be when the sky would turn a mixture of all those colours.

And this is why we have such colourful sunsets and sunrises.
06/10 Direct Link
I walked past a man who was coming into the late years of his middle-ages and he smelt just like pepper.

Because I had little else to do, I started to wonder why he smelt like pepper.

Was it a deodorant he chose to wear? Wouldn't that sting, or at the very least, be hot?

Maybe he had been preparing a meal, and been over-zelous with the seasoning.

Perhaps he just naturally exuded the smell of pepper.

I liked his smell as he walked on by. Goodbye, Mr Smells-like-pepper Man. Thank you for your unique smell.
06/11 Direct Link
The exam panic monster is waiting outside of my bedroom, ready to greet me in the mornings.

He gives me a cup of cold chills and a biting pain in my stomach, as if a rat has trapped itself in its folds.

This monster makes me tired, then refuses to let me sleep. He bangs and crashes all night, making my head thump in time to my heartbeat.

In another week, this monster will be gone. Yet he taunts me with the small space fo time. Tells me I have not prepared enough for all the trials that lie ahead.
06/12 Direct Link
Sleep is like a drug.

It brings me a teriffic euphoria that nothing else can match.

Without it, I shiver. I tremble. Vomit floods my veins and I retch like a crow.

Every time my mind wanders, I think about my sleep. I want her to rifle through my mind and euthanise my thoughts. Pull a blanket over my brain and board up the slits of my eyes.

I've been away too long. I can feel the jitters clambering through my fingers and jumping down my spine.

I need another shot. Give me my sleep. Give my sleep to me.
06/13 Direct Link
'You know, I worry about myself sometimes.'

'Why so?'

'The characters I most relate to in books are those that are the most annoying.'

'Such as?'

'Harding, Bob Slocum, Holden Caulfield. All those people who complain and despair and do nothing. The ones you just want to shake by the shoulders and tell them to grow up.'

'Would you like me to shake you by the shoulders?'

'I'm ok, thank you. To be honest, it's somewhat comforting. It at least means I'm not the only arse in the world. There are others like this all around the big wide globe.'
06/14 Direct Link
Did you see it? I mean did you?

All those lights! They were so pretty. Like glints in the eye sliding through the air. Like crickets that were on fire.

There were those colours. They made me shiver. I don't know why.

But it was the music. Music always affects me. Those notes just clamber all over me. Sit on my shoulders and finger my hair and whisper in my ear. Cover me as a cloak.

The notes were thunderbugs. They really were. You should have been there. Thunderbugs and fire-crickets. It was quite a night.

Quite a night.
06/15 Direct Link
There is a burning.

The sort of fire that makes cities tremble. That rats run away from.

Flames that paint the sides of buildings with the skill of monet. Then turn into a tiger, ripping apart bricks and motar and all the things that make civilisation.

Ashes. Those are all that would be left. Choking ashes that float like lifeless fireflies. Like the bitterest of dreams.

That burning. It eats me. Pulls at the muscles and tendons that support this fragile frame. Evaporates the blood. Melts the brain.

The fire comes. I am ready. A wicker man. Flaming tourch. Phoenix.
06/16 Direct Link
'Hey. What are you doing?'

'I thought I would make some comics.'

'About what?'

'Well, at the moment, I'm drawing animals and make them talk.'

'Right...'

'I use them to express my opinions about the world.'

'I can see. I like how the penguin gives voice to your fear of eternity,'

'I just think it would get boring.'

'Certainly...what's the giraffe doing?'

'Wondering about the human condition and whether there is such a thing as pure alturism.'

'Is there?'

'I think so. As does the giraffe.'

'What about the duck-billed platypus?'

'It's wondering about the point of it's existence.'
06/17 Direct Link

Do you remember when you were younger? You had a balloon and it was the redest thing you had ever seen. So red that you though it would tase of cherry if you took a bite.

It was a windy day and you had yet to grasp the fundamentals of physics. The string tugged at your hand and you let go.

Tears poured out of your eyes as you watched it drift further and further away and you wish there was something you could do to hold it just one more time.

I remember that feeling.That sinking, horrific feeling.

06/18 Direct Link

Due to the failing economies of virutally every country, I humbly propose my own monetary system, which I suggest should be adopted by all as soon as possible.

19 Buddunies equals 1 Davounians, except on Mondays, where 11 Buddunies will equal 1 Davounians.

7 Davonians equals 1 Alexani, except on Wednesdays, where 5 Davonians will equal 1 Alexani.

3 Alexanis equals 1 Dabdab, except on Fridays, where 2 Alexanis will equal 1 Dabdab.

On Thursdays, everything will be worth the same as each other. On Sundays, they will all be worth nothing. Saturdays, they will be worth whatever you want.

06/19 Direct Link
Conversations from a chat website:

Them: hi
Me hello
Them: do u think women belong in the kitchen?

*They disconnect*

Me: Hello
Them: Hi asl
Me: 18 male uk

*They disconnect*

(as an aside, this seems to be the majority of my conversations)

Them: Hey 20 male Turkish
Me:  If you were a bird, which one would you be?

*They disconnect*

Me: Why are banannas?

*They disconnect*

I try and build a rapport but as soon as they realise I'm male and not interested in seeing the size of their penis, they disconnect. Maybe this isn't they best place to search for meaningfull relationships.
06/20 Direct Link

Do you remember? When you were much younger and you just wanted someone to talk to.

So you would create someone. A perfect someone. Someone who was wonderful. The person you wanted to be. A prefect projection of your dreams.

When times were rough, you would whisper your pain and sorrow, dripping like ice down their ear.

On happier occassions you would burst those words in their face like fireworks.

You remember? The comfort and joy those illusions gave you.

And then you grew up. You forced them away. They left, and you stayed.

You remember. I know you do.

06/21 Direct Link

If you took away everything, what would there be left of me?

Shave off this hair and spoon out these eyes. Suck off the skin and tug at those tendons and muscles and mop up all that blood that always gets everywhere no matter what you do.

Remove thoes organs that used to be vital. Grind me into my atoms. What then?

There will be no grain of intelligence. No sign of love or pain. No box for laughter. A lack of colourful pigments. Take away my body, and all I am is nothing.

I'd better keep my body, then.

06/22 Direct Link
I am done, I am free
I don't care, about C's
I've got friends, the future's bright
It'll be all right

Exams are finally finished. Now all there is to do is wait for the results.

It'll be a nice wait. It's the first time in a long while where I actually have nothing I need to do. No work, revision or other suck activites. Just sleeping and reading and playing my instruments and all the other activities that I complain about not being able to do whilst at school.

So I'll enjoy my freedom, for the brief period of time that it's mine.
06/23 Direct Link
I'm tired of this smothering melancholy.

It's not the beautiful melancholy of gymnopedie or claire de lune. Nor is it the witty and entertaining melancholy of Feste.

It's just melancholy. The sort that slivers around my neck, all black and furry. Flickers through my veins , whisking its tail back and forth.

This always happens. Always. It makes me angry. I hate it.

I'm never angry. I've never hated anybody. But this melancholy...

Someone take my hand and pull me into the sunshine. All it will take is a touch, a small amount of gentleness.

My melancholy makes me disgust myself.
06/24 Direct Link
I wanted to ask you to dance. More than anything I have ever wanted before.

There was no time. No time to move under those dark red lights, hold you by the waist and try to guide us through the other dancers.

I had to play this music, this foxtrot and waltz. To pack away the chairs and stands.

All the while I saw you dance with another. Then by yourself. Then, you were just sitting. Sitting on the sidelines, watching everyone else.

I've never wanted to do something like that before. Maybe I'm growing up. It's about time.
06/25 Direct Link
Today has truly been my first day of freedom.

I woke up late and spent some of the morning reading in bed without feeling guilty that I was not doing revision.

I was able to each my lunch in a leisurely fashion whilst watching tennis without feeling guilty that I was not doing work.

I am able to sit here, writing on 100 words, on time, on the actual day, without going into a blind panic about not doing a few more minutes of revision which could possibly maybe help me get the grades that I need for university.
06/26 Direct Link
I killed an ant.

I didn't want to. I didn't mean to.

I was just clearing the cracks in the patio, getting rid of the moss, when I killed it. Him.

It was horiffic. All I could do was sit there and look at his mangled body, all the while screaming an apology in my head.

Taking my trowel, I dug up a piece of earth and placed the ant in the hole. Apologising once again, I covered him over with the soil.

Then, I went back to my clearing. I was more careful. I wanted no  more bloodshed.
06/27 Direct Link
I've just been looking through all the rubbish that I keep on my stack of drawers.

It's like a really mundane archeological dig. Layer upon layer of papers, some with cartoons, doodles. Even a phone number that I remember being very excited getting. Letters asking me to give blood. Numerous worksheets. A bracelet made of the fabric of a scarf, given to me by a friend in chemistry far too long ago.

Another letter, a proper one, from India. I'd forgotten about that.

Looking back has finished. Some things I will keep. Not many, but some. The most important things.
06/28 Direct Link
I love not wearing socks or shoes.

Now that the weather is warmer I'm giving my feet an airing.

It feels so lovely, to put th washing out on a warm day after it has rained. To feel the dew slide over your feet and the grass bow down and let you pass. Rub your feet into the earth and taste the grains of dirt. The wind patting and rubbing your skin.

...

I just wrote and entry about my feet. Now if you excuse me, I'm going to go and comfort my creativity. I can hear it weeping gently.
06/29 Direct Link

Do you remember? When it was one of those slousy slow days, where you eyes could only muster the energy to stay half open.

You lie down outside, grass flitting around you. You hold a book against the sky, position it so that it blocks out the sun. Bees wander around your head and warmth radiates around you, bathes you and splashed over you.

One of those lazy days, where time has no meaning. Where little has any meaning, beyond the words of the book and the sensations on your skin.

Those days. The best days. Days we live for.

06/30 Direct Link
Months drift by like clouds. Just as insubstantial and unreachable.

Sometimes, if I stay very still and quiet and barely breathe, I can hear the creak and groans of my bones as they age. Detect the crinkling of my cells as they shrivel into nothingness. Sit and listen to the sand running down the glass, the faint, steady hissing as those seconds that you thought belonged to you are lost.

All you can do is fill up that time with things that you enjoy. Even if that is reading on a beautiful day.

Time goes. Falls away like leaves.