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[07 Sep 2002|10:35pm] |
Ever get that feeling that you can't breathe because you are so stressed by what life throws at you that you feel like your bones are going to liquify on you at any second now?
Well, it's sort of like that except I'm not thinking about how stressful life is because I honestly don't give a fuck. I feel like I'm floating forward and just taking whatever it throws at me at full force. Like so, my father threw me down a flight of stairs and now I have several broken bones on top of possibly suffering brain damage - even more brain trauma than before.
Brain trauma is my friend. And I think I'm starting to lose my senses one by one.
Carry on.
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[05 Sep 2002|08:34pm] |
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music |
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and i'll be waitin' for a hit yeah |
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Well, this is certainly fun.
There appears to be lead in the pit of my stomach. Of course, it could be the food I ate, sopped with grease and deep fried until all the insects that formerly infested it has been boiled dead. But then again, I haven't eaten. It's been a while since I ate, actually. Or moved. Because you know, there isn't much effort that could go to bending limbs that appear to be bent at wrong angles. But then again, that could be hallucination on my part, as there is no light down here. But I'm pretty sure that the excruciating pain when I attempt to move isn't a hallucination.
It could be depressing but I don't really care.
Hey look! Light!
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[31 Aug 2002|05:19pm] |
A long time ago, I used to have a crush on this girl. She was the epitome of light itself with hair that seemed to have come from the sun and eyes deep and blue. Rich and vibrant. King Turgon, my surrogate father and his daughter, a sister to me.
I'm extremely selective to people I open myself to. Before, it was just my mother, and she had taken the javelin for me. Then, it was Idril, dear Idril. You would think that she would be flattered that I put my utmost faith and trust in her by revealing my thoughts to her, but alas, it was not so. Of course she was polite to me, giving me smiles, a weak mask over her discomfort which radiated from her.
You can only pursue a girl for so long before the rejection makes you bitter. Of course, she was my cousin, and of course, I could never marry her because it was not ethical to marry kindred so so so close and so near, but could she at least indulge me slightly? Just a little bit?
And then she went off and married Tuor, some random fuckhead human.
While Gondolin burned, I tried to take her. I tried to cast that wretched spawn between her and that fuck's union into the fire. Passionate attempt that lasted with my body being flung into the pyres below.
Sad. Very sad.
Then what now?
Indulgences in the most empty act of physical union with anonymous elves from the harem outside of Nan Elmoth. It's rather amazing how little pleasure can be conjured from the release of seed, but it's something to alleviate boredom. Just like inhaling thick smoke from a ceramic pipe, just like sticking needles in your veins.
It doesn't matter if she has a pretty face or a nice body, the end result is the same: lucidity in the limbs, a kiss on the lips, and rolls of bills placed in the palm of her hand.
Random thoughts expressed through boredom while waiting for my father to come back from the forge and release me from the cellar. And when he goes back to the forge, to the Lorëvanya I shall go, the best 'gentlemen's club' outside of Nan Elmoth, specialising in Noldorin prostitutes... the best of their kind. What a disgusting bit of promotion that was. My father would be so proud.
My mother has been rescued by a Vala and is currently resting in Valinor, land of her childhood and of her brethren. I hope she is doing well. But here, I will stay, because I don't want to be anywhere else.
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[30 Aug 2002|01:52pm] |
My ribs appear to be broken, but that is fine. Seeing Tuor and Idril's marriage crumble before my very eyes is sweet medicine; I would have gladly taken more broken bones just to see this event.
It's beautiful.
I'm thinking that my father and Uncle Turgon should bond. They have so much in common, you know, both harbouring great hatred towards me. It might be exciting.
Anyway, must go now. The prostitute I called over should be here soon.
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[29 Aug 2002|09:52pm] |
A long time ago, I lived in a dark forest with my parents. My father taught me a bunch of shit he learned from the dwarves, smithing and creating shiny trinkets and sharp objects made of metal.
He was also an uptight prick who didn't let me wander around when I felt like it.
He also didn't give me a name until I was twelve.
See? Prick.
One day, in a puddle of frustration caused by repression and my teenage elf hormones telling my mind to REBEL REBEL REBEL, I got into a fight with my father. Smacked me in the head, he did. I was hurt. I made a vow to never speak to him again. You know how it goes, being young and angry and hating your parental units.
Then he went away and left my mother and I. I convinced her to take both of us to Gondolin, the kingdom where her brother Turgon was king. I wanted to know more about my Noldor relatives that my father hated.
Gondolin was pretty damn cool for a crater, especially one that was given to Uncle Turgon by Ulmo himself.
But my father was angry. Very very angry. He rode up and was let into Gondolin and he decided that if he couldn't leave Gondolin, I couldn't leave either. He yelled at me but I refused to answer back. So he threw a poisoned javelin at me.
It hit my mother. So it goes.
And then there was Idril.
I'll save my throughts about Idril for another day.
They called me my Father's Son. I resent that greatly.
Hi.
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