I wanna live on the edge of dyin’!
I wanna bleed til these bones are dry, yeah!
Wanna burn til there’s nothing left,
And I will rise again!
~D.
Tag Archives: rise
Rise Again
7 JanC
23 Oct
Wow. It’s crazy how far we’ve come, isn’t it? I mean, take a look.
We started with that review of that one movie with the dolls. Then, I said something I’d like to take back, and got lazy, and didn’t post for some time. After that, I came back and told a story, turned into more of a weirdo than usual. Then there was this poorly edited version of something I wrote, followed by another poorly edited version of something I wrote that is now way different, even in terms of plot, time periods, character development, dialogue, etc. So much stuff!
Man, what else did we do? Ah, that’s right! We went on a journey together, and you heard my voice and it was awkward. I wrote a bad ending, and watched an adequate show so you didn’t have to. We followed a goat, examined terrorism, false advertised, discussed knowledge, stayed up late, talked about you, got pissed about abortion, started, got pissed about each other (or I guess it was just me being a bitch or whatever), got pissed about some superhero movie, analyzed characters. Hell, we even got you to want to follow me on Twitter less than you already did! Oh, and something about 9/11, and loving you.
I think the last thing we discussed was racism, and I’ve been away a while. Don’t worry, I’m not disappearing. I just wanted to make sure I did something special for our hundredth time together. I couldn’t come up with much, honestly. Just remembering the good times with the Legendary Heroes and whatnot.
Okay, I guess that’s everything. Here’s something to read before you go to bed, or when you wake up, or whenever. Oh, and here’s a list.
Goodnight/good morning/good evening/good space/you all need to play Beyond: Two Souls.
~D.
P.S. – I think I left out something, but I feel like I shouldn’t talk about it for some reason.
P.P.S. – Look at this tiger.
Typos and Tonight
1 May
Okay, I’m a little embarrassed about the typos on the new page, but only a little. In fact, I’m not embarrassed. Screw you guys for noticing the damned misspellellelled words. What the hell’s your problem, huh? What, with your perceptions and your cheap critiques and your pants with a shoelace running through the belt loops (yeah, I noticed). Yeah, you’re nuts, hear me? There were no typos. There are no typos. Go look! Prove that there was something there.
Anyway, I’m going to write something tonight. It might not be out until past midnight, so it’ll technically be tomorrow, but whatever, it’s cool. I’m trying to decide if I want it to be something y’all take seriously. I think it should be, just for good alternation, but you knever now.
~D.
Becklantic
7 Apr
Ann unedditid centance cann ruen ann artecul. I’m not kidding. People can read one and immediately think, “Well, I know where this is going.” And they do, don’t they? They know exactly where it’s testicles, because they’re psychic. Everyone who reads blogs is psychic. They assume that if someone begins all of their articles with a random picture and some dry humor that it’ll probably end up being a dramatic political satire related to the picture, because they know everything, because readers KNOW EVERYTHING. So, how does one surprise a reader?
Let’s start with a goat. Goats are always surprising. I rather like goats. Actually, to be honest, I don’t know anything about goats other than they’re basically sheep with horns and less hair. Anyways, we’ve got a goat. Now, what are we going to do with this goat? Well, we’re going to ride it, you see. We’re going to ride it across the Atlantic Ocean, because all goats can walk on salt water, you see. And now we’re going to feed it some fish, because goats eat fish! This is our NEW DISCOVERY! So, we’ll keep feeding it until it’s so big it fills up like a balloon and takes us sailing into the clouds above! This is the exclamation point section! HAHAHAHAHA!
Once we’re in the clouds, we’ll start catching passing seagulls. As they struggle, we’ll strap them to the goat with leather bindings, leaving their wings exposed so that their flapping redirects our flight pattern to—geese muffins, it’s Istanbul! A city on two continents! How did we ever get here?! Well, let’s head down. We free our seagulls and stick needles in the goat, deflating it. After a gentle descent, we arrive on the Asian side of the city, and are immediately and savagely assaulted by Turkish missionaries for being “fell heathens.” After escaping with only our thumbs and earlobes broken and torn, we rush to the nearest coyote salesman. He gives us two fine hounds for free because we have a cute blonde chick with us who pleases him with her extensive knowledge of yo-yo yoga—that’s yoga with a yo-yo. We immediately mount the coyotes, the blonde vanishing into thin air, and ride off into the sunset, only to be swallowed by a passing sand dragon who farts us into the Tenth Level of Hell.
And that’s how you surprise a reader.
Dylan Alexander 