Replay value rose by 100%

I can remember it all so clearly now, and I miss my childhood paradise; how we used a part of an ice cream box when we cleaned the swimming pool, the sound of the pool when it was low on water, the small creek with the young trees that passed under the road, the rock where I went to be alone, the secret blueberry-patch, the shed where I first saw a girl naked, the field where we did most our mischief, the rotten bridge between my uncles' property and my aunts', the taste of burning straws, my neighbours' dog, the details about my schoolroute that I just can't remember, the mousetraps in the attic, the legos in my roof, the pine-cone-animals we learnt to make, the sap we chewed, the fantasy weapons we conjured up, the amazing view from our veranda, the plowing of snow from the yard and the various other flat areas, the annual christmas breakfast, our wheelbarrel, the huge rock next to the stairs that led to our main entrance where we occationally climbed just for the pure heck of it, grilling in summer where my dad incisted to sit in the shadow and eat hot dog, our huge and old couch, moms' puzzles, the carpet we had rolled up in the attic of the garage that had to be cleansed from a beehive, the painting and oiling of the outer walls, the little tube that constantly spat out water without me really ever understanding why or from where, the lamp that got smashed during a rough game of basketball, the garage where all our weird stuff and summer furnirue was stored, the dried out dragonfly I found and lost again, the scared cow that brought down our fence in a failed jump, the sheep, the berries my mom would make jam and/or lemonade out of, the chewing marks on my old bed, the puzzle of dogs which gave me nightmares for years, the smell of wild Globe-flowers, the bouquets of forget-me-nots that I picked for my mum, that part of a road in which there we just a path full of rocks and dirt where we rode our bikes cuz it was cool, our mailbox on the end that could be tipped sideways, all the houses that are returning to me with great speed right now, selling lottery tickets to neighbours to raise money for our football team or school......

*Sigh* I want a replay one time...

Raaaaage!

I woke up today to a good day, I wished. It seems good days are all parts of fairy tales and bullshit. No, the good day probably exists, somewhere, just not in my cursed life. For what happens the moment I get up with a healthy attitude to the day at hand? Something rushes through the woods of improbability to intercept what could turn out as something as horrible and unspeakable as a friggin, good day. "Everybody says that Jeppe drinks, but nobody asks why Jeppe drinks." Oh I bloody wonder. Let's see if running water and cleaner body helps at all.

*showerbreak*

Well, I'm cleaner, that's for sure, but other than that there is little difference. I'm still in a black mood. I see little point in furter writing. 

On Crimes and Dreams

Would it be a crime if I were to dream a dream?
Would it be heard if I screamed a scream?
Was it you who lay your head there on my pillows?
Resting your eyes to the sound of the willows?

Serene as the light, you're in my dreams tonight
For with your memory I will sleep with delight

Even though you're far away from where I now sleep
You will forever surface from my deep
To bask in the moonbeams of my dreams' pond
To take me to happiness, bliss and beyond

Now I sleep deeply with you on my mind
Resting so sweetly, laying worries behind


So there you have it, my latest writing. Inspired by an anonymous beauty. However somewhat unexpected. Maybe it is love? Maybe it is destiny?... or just one of those things that happen. Who am I to know anyway? I can barely keep my head out of a somewhat dense, fictional reality anyways.

A rose petal

A rose petal falls

     Contemplation

Ripples spreading out on serenity

Tiny waves of potential

Throughout the magical universe                                                                                                                  

A rose petal falls

     Reflection

A face in the forest pond

Looking towards the sky

Thoughts and dreams heavenbound                                                                                                                  

A rose petal falls

     Destination

With steady wingbeats  through the clouds

Heading headfirst for destiny

Going for that beautiful horizon                                                                                                                         

A rose petal falls

     Determination

Through wind and rain with ease

Standing tall in the eternal

Always vigilantly watching over                                                                                                                         

A rose petal falls

     Salvation

Mind leaving withered body

Going for that place

Where minds are laid to rest

 

The frustration of love.

"Go on and kiss the girl" I would if I could, damn you. But raising an angry fist towards the gods of fate doesn't get you anywhere does it? So as days pass you get force-fed with all the happy people, being happily in love, living happily forever after. Everyone knows that humanity is frustrated, but none ask why. And it's the power of love that binds us together and lifts us up. And it's the power of love that keeps us alive and well. And it's the power of love that drives individuals into despair, that kills, that maims. GOD bless the power of love! Worthless piece of..... Alcohol keeps us alive and uplifted, damnit! I think the past had a great deal on the whole "love" consept. "Love is ok, but let's keep a practical view on it. You two look like you're the proper age, so love each other!" Or maybe I'm just ranting. Point being I guess: STOP RUBBING IT IN YOU ASSHOLES! Bloody *mumble mumble* I might be in a bad mood.

Sad puppy says miao

A cry for attention sounds through the halls of existence. Rebounding off every wall trying to stirr up people, animals, ghosts, whatever. A shriek, a howl, a roar. You turn your head for a moment, more out of surprise than care, but honestly you don't. So when the sound fades from your hearing, you pay it no more attention. And why should you? It's not like you don't have your own worries. And so time passes. In time even the memory of an echo melts in with the surroundings and the attention so desperately sought after is never given. But no new cry will be heard, no. One learned the first time around the futileness of hope. The well grows deeper and one accepts its depths with less effort. And inevitabily one drowns, in despair.

Mass Effect

It's really a shame to start the new year with something as banal as this, but this is what I shall do nonetheless. I'm going to do my very first game review. The simple reason for this being that I have been sitting up all night playing Mass Effect. However rather than pulling the game apart like most reviews I want to try another aproach. Heck, I'm not even going to mention the actual game that much. In the words of one of my favourite artists, Regina Spektor, "It started out as a feeling, which then grew into a hope, which then grew into a silent thought..." I'm just going to let you know my feelings, then perhaps you can make the thoughts? First feeling is slight discomfort at the fact that I never use an X-box controll-pad, however I am easily distracted away from that as soon as I get to make my character..... Weeeeee, I love that! Seriously. And again we see the oh so common transformation as I become Fatali. Be it Fatali Shepard or Fatali Dawnmist or even Fatali Arcanum. Then I get to the actual game and I'm slightly agitated. "KoToR!" And I have to admit that with that exclamation, a certain anticipation is made. I play some, plowing through the introduction to the main story, somewhat halfawake throughout it all, with some glee during a couple of nice details... and then, I am suddendly God. I swear, that's the feeling I had as I got the universe at my fingertips. And you DO have the universe at your fingertips, cuz you have a HUGE spectre of stars and planets to explore. But I digress, for the real feeling comes when the story peaks towards an end. As I planted that last slug into the main bastard's chest area I could feel my heart beat as a drum in wartime. The controller which started out as an awkvard plastic chunk in my hands had at some point become an extension of myself. That happens only a few times, with only a few games. True enough I had some moments where I wanted to throw the controller around, and one where I actually did, but some flaws had to be I guess.... It's still night.....