Michael
Funny, how you can see something for so long and never notice it. I am close to fathoming the concept of something moving in the dark. I cannot comprehend what that's like, because life stops when the lights go out and everything is still and quiet but for the whirring of the fan and the work of the thermostat every now and then. But sure enough, the wind still blows, sometimes howls, and the clouds still roll past or settle down upon you with your eyes closed. And maybe those are the times when it seems just a little bit darker than the moments before.

I have become intrigued with a statue. (Compliments of Mlle. Rachel. Unwittingly, of course.) I do not know what it is called or if it is but a rendition of another statue, but I do believe it is supposed to be St. Michael. It seems to shed light upon the unknown aspects of his character. In this statue, he is kind and shows clemency toward the human race. Or perhaps this is just me. But it is definitely unlike the traditional view of St. Michael...towering over the hideous form of Satan. Now here's a part I found interesting...
APOCALYPSE (REVELATION) 12: 7 - 9
And there was a battle in heaven: Michael and his angels battled with the dragon, and although the dragon and his angels fought back, they were overpowered and lost their place in heaven. The huge dragon, the ancient serpent known as the devil or Satan, the seducer of the whole world, was driven out and hurled down to earth and his minions with him.
I did not see before this biblical allusion in Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. Because isn't the Balrog described much akin to the Dragon? It has wings and its nostrils breathe fire...And so I have come to the conclusion that Gandalf is really Michael! Or not.
Reference this picture:

Yes. He is HOTT. (Just like Gandalf)

Anyway, so I am now fascinated with St. Michael the Archangel. The 1996 film didn't do it for me. Alas, all I needed was a statue. I also plan to look into the life of Mary Magdalene, long fabled prostitute. Of course, this has yet to be proven. It only said Jesus helped her overcome some of her sinful ways...inhibitions...such and such. It is now suspected that she may have been wife of Jesus. I mean, he was a Jew, right? Wouldn't he have had to be married in accordance with the laws of his religion? Fascinating.

See? I knew I liked Theology.   ¶ 02:16

 
You keep on and on, pooring out pieces of yourself, the purest pieces, and they stop listening because it's become all too unpleasant. Or maybe they weren't listening from the start, they don't realize how much you've risked...how much you've given of yourself, away and lost forever. And you'll start to wonder...why it means so much. Why does it feel like you're tearing out pieces of your soul, when it's not even worthy of their notice? And this thought will tear you down even more.   ¶ 22:24

  Dark Black Night
I am weak, but strong of heart. I have human eyes, but a sharp tongue. There are times I feel like I could do anything, and I want to break myself because I am my own limit.

"There will be days when you'll look at your hands and you'll want to take something and smash every bone in them, because they'll be taunting you with what they could do, if you found a chance for them to do it, and you can't find that chance, and you can't bear your living body because it has failed those hands somewhere. There will be days when a bus driver will snap at you as you enter a bus, and he'll be only asking for a dime, but that won't be what you'll hear; you'll hear that you're nothing, that he's laughing at you, that it's written on your forehead, the thing they hate you for. There will be days when you'll stand in the corner of a hall and listen to a creature on a platform talking about buildings, about that work which you love, and the things he'll say will make you wait for somebody to rise and crack him open between two thumbnails; and then you'll hear the people applauding him, and you'll want to scream, because you won't know whether they're real or you are, whether you're in a room full of gored skulls, or whether someone has just emptied your own head, and you'll say nothing, because the sounds you could make-they're not a language in that room any longer; but if you'd want to speak, you won't anyway, because you'll be brushed aside, you who have nothing to tell them about buildings...Then, one day, you'll see on a piece of paper before you a building that will make you want to kneel; you won't believe that you've done it, but you will have done it; then you'll think that the earth is beautiful and the air smells of spring and you love your fellow men, because there is no evil in the world. And you'll set out from your house with this drawing, to have it erected, because you won't have any doubt that it will be erected by the first man to see it...finally you'll get into a man's office with your drawing, and you'll curse yourself for taking so much space of his air with your body, and you'll try to squeeze yourself out of sight, so that he won't see you, but only hear your voice begging him, pleading, your voice licking his knees; you'll loathe yourself for it, but you won't care, if only he'd let you put up that building, you won't care, you'll want to rip your insides open to show him, because if he saw what's there he'd have to let you put it up. But he'll say that he's very sorry, only the commission has just been given to Guy Francon. And you'll go home, and do you know what you'll do there? You'll cry. You'll cry like a woman, like a drunkard, like an animal. That's your future, Howard Roark. Now, do you want it?"

I never accepted I can't. I will fly; you'll see.   ¶ 21:44

 

You will be smothered under a rug. You're a little
anti-social, and may want to start gaining new
social skills by making prank phone calls.


What horrible Edward Gorey Death will you die?
brought to you by Quizilla   ¶ 22:07

  The Gashlycrumb Tinies

Amazon.com: Books: The Gashlycrumb Tinies

I have discovered an entirely new genre of books! The closest to these I have read were those books by Roald Dahl. I liked Roald Dahl's books. The concept is...semi-disturbing. But perhaps it is like the Rejected video..."my anus is bleeding!"

I am rightly fascinated!   ¶ 18:47

 
I have decided to make a list of the best things about summer.

Numero Uno: When I feel like waking up early, I can watch Little House on the Prairie at 9 in the mornings on channel 27. OH YEAH.   ¶ 22:49

  Peace Train take me home again
Everything is back to normal. They all left, back to humble horizons, such as they are. I don't know what I want to say, but I want to say it in such a clear, coherent way. Yes. Once again, I am yearning to tell you something you never noticed about life before. Perhaps it is the time for a progression of thoughts. Which I will thereafter try to interpret. Much like a dream.

clear heavenly scent smell me perfume see fly hear feel touch love kill till mill meal heal real feel seal seel heal real teal meal real love for me to love you for hope that wasn't true but was always fair and faithful loyal trustworthy holy hopeful faithful infidel communist share commune together get back home I belong feel welcome home share love care dove rhyme rhythym fate faitt heal love care feel share share share share share share melody grasp selecting only what i feel i feel peace real healing my long and arduous gait down the street and out the door, be careful walking out your door is a dangerous business watch your feet or you mayn't notice where they'll be taking you until it's too late hate binds hurts constricts plastic seal cover shelter rain hate heat kill feel fell real eel let me go home and take my life and care my feet and carry them across further than the threshold across some wasteland and back home again always a comfort sands in my feet i think of home oasis

I find I must always make a connection, have everything belong in its own place, its own little happy niche. Even in this seemingly random progression of thoughts. And in order to keep this order, I have had to omit certain thoughts I might otherwise have expressed. Is it because I'm afraid of what you'll see and think and say? Or even what I'll see and think and say? Does this reflect my fears and needs in life? Thank you for making me think, then. It has distracted me, if only for just a short while. I have, just this previously, seemed to state polar opposites one line to the next. This is a curious thing. Looking back towards the end, it does look somewhat like talk of suicide. let me go home and take my life and care my feet and carry them across further than the threshold across some wasteland and back home again always a comfort sands in my feet i think of home oasis I am a strange one... I was not aware of this inner thought. But I must have been. I must have known I was at least slightly miserable. I guess that's why I came in here, in such a way. What am I writing anymore? I'm not even thinking or paying attention anymore. THIS is the progression of thoughts, you know. I just write what I think and say and feel and never know what it was I thought and said and felt at the point in time. Then I go back and read it, and oh how I'm just so amazed at my own thoughts and sayings and feelings. Because they are the same as I think and say and feel now. And will always think and say and feel. I think. And so it comes and goes. Go on now.

For nothing they do or grab makes any impression on this hot valley where the stooping animals have sad almost-human faces and the fellaheen crouch at their eternal ill-paid tasks and the desert, the fly and the kite are the truly strong.
  ¶ 00:37

 
Me oh my. EIGHTEEN inches!   ¶ 16:34

  Graduation Day is Here
Thus far I have received:
1. Bose noise-canceling headphones
2. A neato hand-sewn Kimono thingy
3. soothing Jack Black lip balm
4. shiny Spring Bean lustreglass
5. Miso Pretty soap : )
6. awesome "A" necklace

YAY!
And it's only 1:52 AM!!
I am excited!!!!   ¶ 01:53