Nyarlathotep

I took the small stone and hurled with all my might off of the precipice. The Shining Trapezohedron would never hurt anyone again, for I knew that hurling it into the caldera would trap it's power forever. The eternal light of the molten rock would prevent any darkness from penetrating it's many faceted panels. I stood for a moment, my breath heavy and wet. Sweat poured off my mostly naked form. Then, I screamed. Like an injured animal. Tears, mucus and saliva fell from my face. I curled into a fetal position, face down in the dirt and screamed until I was horse. I cried for my love, for my world, but mostly for myself. The magma below roiled indifferently as I bared my soul to it.

A large Margareta pizza from Pepino's, a Monster Energy Drink, and an apple pie.

I hate mysteries...at least mysteries I dont know anything about. I'm in.

Got diarrhea on another continent? Screamed out "J. R. R. Tolkien's a fuckin' hack!" in the middle of a Chinese restaurant? Lived off of nothing but cigarettes and coffee for 3 days? Slept over 15 hours in one shot? Realized how, to the uninitiated, the discussion of element colors in RPGs can sound really racist?

A crystal egg sitting in a horse shit colored sea bursting open releasing blue waters.

The Fountain And now for a completely different take on said movie. Just saw this amazing film last night. Defiantly the most visually stunning films I've seen in quite awhile. Aronofsky's movies are known for their stunning(often disturbing) visuals and wonderful cinematography, and The Fountain is no exception Though the base plot may be simple and straight forward, the rest of the movie is far from that. Taking such a straight forward idea and building layer upon layer of visual metaphors upon it was brilliant, IMO. Hugh Jackman gives a wonderful performance as does Rachel Weisz. If you've seen Pi and Requiem For a Dream, then and love what Aronofsky did, then I especially recommend this. I also recommend it to anyone who is not bothered by a predominantly visually driven movie. Shoot 'Em Up Do you like Clive Owen? How about John Woo movies? Over-the-top action films? If you said yes to any of these then it is your civic duty to see this friggen movie!

He ran down the hall. Terror followed him even better then his actual pursuer. It was black as pitch, his hands the only thing keeping him from running into anything. Of course this slowed him down tremendously. As he half ran, running his hands along the ancient stone wall, a sound issued forth behind him. It was impossible to describe that awful noise, save for that it was a scream of an unworldly sort. He was delirious with fear by now. Throwing caution to the wind, he let go of the wall and ran full speed. A huge mistake he realized momentarily later when he tripped over a particularly uneven cobble stone. He fell face first, his chin crack against the old stone. His knees suffered the rest of the damage, as his kilt served no protection whatsoever. After. a moment he stood, shakily. The immense pain was, for the moment, overriding his fear...but not for long. Repentance roared again, much closer now. His fall had cost him dearly, the thing would be upon him in seconds. His fear welled up in him like methane in a swamp. He turned to face his hunter with all the will he could muster, which, incidentally, was very little. The long hall lit up with ethereal blue light as the mechanical construct turned the corner. Oddly enough, the clockwork beast's head reminded him of a tuba. While the rest of it's body was lupine, it's head of twisted brass came to a large mouth with no teeth. Of course it had none, the thing never ate, it merely hunted. The creature stood not two feet away from him as it seemed to consider what to do for a moment. The man took a defensive stand with his fists; a meaningless gesture. Gears churned and ground where the rusted sheet metal covering the creature had worn away. The kilted man opened his mouth to say something but wasnt given the chance. The machine, after a moment of what appeared to be thoughtfulness, pounced. It shredded him in seconds. The beast's claws made short work of his leather armor, then flesh. He didnt land a single blow in defense. After reducing the man to a bloody quagmire, that sound came forth once again from deep inside the creature and it took off, searching for it's next prey. If it had been possible for the machine-beast to feel anything, it would have felt joy. It had not slain this many men in one day in centuries. Ice Tea Shard Fellowship Shame

Death at A Funeral The Brit's have done it again, giving us another hysterical witty comedy. The story centers around a dysfunctional family during the main character's father's funeral. Acid tripping, midgets and hypochondria are just a few topics of some of the running jokes in this wonderful film. Defiantly recommend to any one with a decent sense of humor.

A few friends of mine and I recently started a weekly movie night where about 7 of us get together and one person brings 2-3 movies. This week we watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith and Leon: The Professional. Since I had seen Leon before(one of my favorites), I figured I'd review the other one... Mr. and Mrs. Smith Look, I enjoy ridiculous gun-fu violence as much as the next person and I have a raging boner for Brad Pitt, but come one! The forced chemistry between the Brad and Angelina, the over use of "we just had a fight now lets fuck" cliche and the cheesy explosion effects really ruined the whole movie for me. And look, I know, the movie is a metaphor for a tango, SO STOP PLAYING A DIFFERENT TANGO EVERY FIVE SECONDS!!! At least diversify your soundtrack a bit.

Life Lessons... - Believe half of what you see and nothing of what you hear - Read every day - Literature is our birthright, so shoplift books - Motorists despise cyclists for some unknown reason, so keep your eyes peeled when riding - Condoms can be mood killers - Sometimes video games take precedence over real life - DONT EVER COMMUTE TO COLLEGE! - Hippies dont actually care about the enviroment Lessons from living in Florida... - Dont try to buy beer without money - There is no bottle returns in florida - Dont try and wash all your clothes at once in the tub with dish soap - Cigarettes may be cheap in florida, but so is the pay - Every day is "Fun Day" - Smoking Salvia (a legal hallucinogen) makes you feel like your being folded in half by a giant frisbee (credit goes to my friend Pat for that one) - Krills is a slang term for crack now. Go figure... ...And yes I am aware of how sketchy these lessons make me sound

Wrote this a 6AM two days ago. I only plan on writing a bit more, most likely a dramatic scene in the diner. Enjoy. "...When I gotta get my voice and my fist on the same page as my heart..." I tore page after page from the book. Sentences, words, letters formed gibberish on the floor. I pulled out my lighter, a battered zippo, and set fire to the remaining binding. I tossed the desiccated husk of a novel across the room. It burned there, indignantly. I stared at it, watching it dissolve into ash, leaving a pitch black streak on the bad 70's paneling. It was 5:53 in the morning and I had had it up to here with William Gibson-esque prose. Cyberpunk was becoming more and more mainstreamed each year. Fuck it, I told myself, just start reading Space Opera again. I walked bleary-eyed into the kitchen. I downed a yogurt and went outside. The sun was getting there, but the morning fog still hung like a moist blanket. I lit up a Lucky Strike and enjoyed the feeling of damp concrete on my bare feet. You never realize just how noisy it is at this time of day. Most people are sleeping or getting ready for work, so they never really stop to listen. It's like every bird within a mile radius feels it's necessary to tell the whole god-damned world that it's up. And I love it. I walked down my road for a bit, staring at each of the bland suburban dwellings I passed. I had been living with my lover for almost a year now, here in this WASPy hell hole, and I could still not get used to the monotony of these homes. They all looked the fucking same. Boring. I grew up in NYC, so I was a little jaded when it came to my architectural surroundings. He couldnt ask me to live here for much longer. We had been living in Bloomington, Indiana for over a year when Alex's parents died. I had just gotten used to the small-town-with-huge-radical-movement/music-scene when his parents up and died. We had moved out there on a whim, giving us “a new lease on life”. So there we were, living where no one knew us, fucking like rabbits and being as openly gay as humanly possible. Then we get that fateful call. Shit. I'll spare you the embarrassing details, let's just say daddy was having his snake charmed by mommy on the way home from a swap meet, or whatever the hell it is people that age do, and plowed into an on-coming semi. You really don’t wanna know how the coroner determined what caused them to crash. We flew back to Westchester, lots of uncomfortable family encounters ensued, and we inherited their lovely little abode. I saw some asshole with a Hummer back out of his driveway, nearly hitting his mail box. Hoped that he would back over one of his 40 kids some day. That or mother nature herself would materialize and consumes his flesh. I have this big hang up about polluting. You know, considering I live on this fucking planet after all. I continued down the road, stewing about yuppies and there chosen modes of transportation. A car pulled up along side me. It was Alex. He rolled down the passenger window and tossed me my sandals. He gave me a sheepish look. "You’re an ass. Get in the car. I wanna get coffee." I stamped out the roach I had been nursing and climbed in. He leaned over and we swapped saliva for a bit before making our way to the diner. "Two things. One: next time warn me when you plan on trying to light the house on fire and two: dont you ever fucking burn a book again." I still had trouble reading him sometimes, wasnt sure if he was amused or pissed. He finally looked at me, after giving me time to let that sink in...I assume. I smiled stupidly. He just grunted and pulled into a parking space. We had fought last night, whatever the topic was nothing more then a smoke screen for what was really causing tension. I couldnt tolerate living here any longer. It wasnt so much the white bred yuppie shmucks, nor the complete lack of culture in the area, but the house. His parents had not been happy when he came out. But they were even less happy when they met me. And now, living in their house, it felt like they were bearing down on us from beyond the grave. Their negative vibes were all over that raised ranch. We hadnt had sex in something like 2 months, we fought much more often and he wouldnt stop talking about them. Being there was bringing back all that shame and guilt those fucks had brought down on him and it was destroying us. Him emotionally, me mentally.

Steve looked in disgust at all of the new Dungeons&Dragons books lining the shelves. He picked one up and leafed through it. It was the Draconomicon. It was like all the rest. These new rule books required no imagination what-so-ever. They gave sample descriptions, sample dungeons and even sample encounters. It was as if Wizard's no longer thought people were imaginative enough to think of these things themselves. It saddened Steve to think that kids no longer had to put in the effort to play D&D, let alone most other D20 based games. He put the Draconomicon back on the shelf and reached for the revised World of Darkness rule book. Ok, so White Wolf wasnt doing much better then Wizard's, but at least they left some things up to the imagination. Plasma Bi-Pedal Tracer Monk

It hadnt occurred to Nate 'till this very minute that everything was about to blow up in his face. The runes he had carved into the skin of his half-dead girlfriend hadnt cured her at all, they merely exasperated the problem. Her soul was now fragmenting at an exponential rate, leaving maybe 6 hours at best before she became nothing more then a fleshy husk. The bounty on his head (put there by his father...of course) was drawing in more then the usual group of Techno Mages, Neurodancers and plain ole' Mercs. Now he was contending with an Æther Sting Squad, that group of oh-so-lovely magic gestapo who used reality itself to carry out political assassinations. And finally there was that matter of his familiar gaining sentience. Having a magical cat was one thing, having one that could now bitch when you werent paying enough attention to it was a whole 'nother ball game. Hard as he tried, Nate couldnt really see how he was going to come out of this one both physically and spiritually intact. He was going to lose something along the way this time, he could feel it. And it wasnt going to be his lucky acorn...he'd make sure of that. Blue Tangible Outlaw Svengali

Pirates of the Carribbean 3: At World's End By far the most epic in scale of the 3 films. Top notch fight scenes, wonderful visuals and some interesting plot twists. Geoffrey Rush and Bill Nighy easily stole the spotlight and I loved that Chow Yun Fat was back in film again. But, unfortunately the movie still suffered from many of the same problems as the previous installment. The characters continued to preform acts totally out of character, the story became badly muddled at times and the number of references to the previous films shoved down your throught was just to much. Overall this one was better then Deadman's Chest, but it still doesnt hold a candle to the first film. Oh and Davy Jone's Locker was hella lame.

Nonsense

I shoplifted some books? Oh wait, this isnt that kinda thread.

Annoying

28 Weeks Later - Sequel to 2002's 28 Days Later. NATO forces have established a "green zone" in Britain and wiped out the last of the infected. People are begining to be moved back into the country when another outbreak occurs. I was suprised to find this one to be just as good as the first. The cinematography was still excellent, the raw intensity was still there and eerieness of a silent city was just as palpable. The gore factor has been increased slightly, with some especially disturbing deaths, but not to the point of senselessness. I would highly recommend this if you saw the first one and enjoyed it or are just a fan of "zombie" films.

Lisa hadnt been there in quite some time. Death has a way of preventing you from enjoying the small things. The path through the sunless pine forest was the same as it had been 6 years ago, though now a bit less worn. Pushing thoughts of her life out, she cleared her head and took a deep breath. The pine scent made her dizzy with it's strength. She looked up into the perpetual dusk of this place, her sanctuary, and smiled. Plopping herself down onto a particularly comfy patch of needles, she took off her jacket and laid back. The cool breeze had died down and now the temperature was comfortable. Fixing her gaze on the still branches of the canopy above her, she could almost see an imaginary reflection of her and Peter. Laying there, napping, possibly talking about school, and maybe even getting him to talk about himself. She was crying again, but there werent any sobs. Tears fell down her smirking face. She flipped over her jacket and pulled out from the front right pocket a battered paperback. It was volume four of the DrangonLance series, Peter's favorite. She could never understand why he read such drivel, considering what a literary elitist he was. Guess everyone has their guilty pleasures. It had been on him when they dragged his bloated corpse out of the longest British river. Now she was alone, with the only possession of his left half crying in the woods she had raised him in. She slipped the book in the waist band of her jeans. Laying flat again, she pulled out a cigarette from her pants pocket. She sat there with it hanging in her mouth, her unfocused eyes staring at the black tree tops, seeing nothing. An hour went by before her cell phone rang. Pulled from her trance, she answered it. Few words were said before she hung up. She stood, lit the cigarette, pulled the book from her pants and flung it. It twirled in the air a dozen times then landed open on the ground. She left the forest without her jacket. Downpour Casings Wedding Pagan

Something to that effect. What I did was sit there and literally put down what came to mind, then afterwards attempted to play with the syntax and structure of each line. Like I said, "poetry" isnt my thing.

I VERY rarely write poetry, but I was compelled to a few months back, and after Whiskey's encouragement, I decided to post it. Tenkaichi and Cigarettes Alienation substation Skyreaver explosion How's it going Alan? Effortless time By we may often Towards the sunrise seven Treasure your symptoms Laser face Try not to see it anymore Portals to makoshift Classy subversion Overt after-effects Trust fund hippie taser Floundering in excess Over exerting my everything Frankly so far Mother's pain Tolerance of torture Trash your speakers Tesla lies overture Necrotic tissue Places a face Pretend this isnt happening Right/left objectivity

Laughter

Lucifer

Nyarlathotep grabs the chili and swallows it in one big gulp. "I love chilis, spicy food is my fav. I was under the impression there was going to be chili, not chili peppers." His eyes begin to water slightly and pulls out a simply patterened hankerchief and blew his nose. "Boy...thats some spicy f***in' peppers."

Had the best discussion on DC comics ever while hammered beyond belief? Had your grandmother punch you in the head 8 times while driving to your therapists appointment? Watch your girlfriend shoot your friend in the face point-blank with a bee-bee gun? Compare a fetus to a zombie?