31 December 2007
27 December 2007
25 December 2007
20 December 2007
18 December 2007
Quest for Affirmation from the Nothingness
"Tyler: In the end there were no simple answers. No heroes or villians; only silence."
If you have never seen the movie Never Cry Wolf then you are doing yourself a great injustice. There is more in that movie then most have in their entire career. The theme of the movie really makes you want to go out into the wilderness and challenge yourself. There is even a line in the movie where the main character, Tyler, says, "I want to say thank you straight out into nothingness". I can't remember if these are the exact words but the message is the same.
And in this he has made a revelation.
The character throughout the movie undergoes a severe development and adaptation to his surroundings. Let me re-evaluate that statement. It is more he is allowed to open up more of himself. More of what is inside of him. This nature that he develops over time is something that has always had inside of him, and self discovery is fueled by the situation he finds himself in. Isn't that what it is really about? The experience, the findings. Self discovery indeed. See the movie. No matter what it takes. There aren't many now-a-days that can achieve what this one did.
Keep your eyes up.
If you have never seen the movie Never Cry Wolf then you are doing yourself a great injustice. There is more in that movie then most have in their entire career. The theme of the movie really makes you want to go out into the wilderness and challenge yourself. There is even a line in the movie where the main character, Tyler, says, "I want to say thank you straight out into nothingness". I can't remember if these are the exact words but the message is the same.
And in this he has made a revelation.
The character throughout the movie undergoes a severe development and adaptation to his surroundings. Let me re-evaluate that statement. It is more he is allowed to open up more of himself. More of what is inside of him. This nature that he develops over time is something that has always had inside of him, and self discovery is fueled by the situation he finds himself in. Isn't that what it is really about? The experience, the findings. Self discovery indeed. See the movie. No matter what it takes. There aren't many now-a-days that can achieve what this one did.
Keep your eyes up.
16 December 2007
12 December 2007
Further and Further
The topic again and again rises of the genuine nature of things created by the hand of man. This is something that is a source of very much anger, excitement, worry, sadness, pain. There is much to be said about someone who created for the need of creating. This is what sets their creation apart from the rest. It doesn't take an art critic, and I absolutely despise the judges of "art", but anyone can sense desperation. Anyone can smell the foul odor of insincerity. It is this, or lack there of, that spawns most things that we see today. It is this, I believe, that is responsible for so much of my loathing of pop culture. Doing something just to make other people think you are (insert adjective here). That is the worst reason to do anything. Not only limited to creation of the arts. But, being in the world that I am in, these are the most prevalent. I have to look at these everyday. There is no high octane left. They are not even aware of the existence that there is a possibility of an octane that is higher than what they have now. I can not begin to encompass what it is that I am truly trying to say. I am walking a thin line between truthful, righteous anger and the hormonal ignominious whining of a teenager, which seems to be so popular now a days. Take it or leave it. It won't make a difference till someone breaks the glass.
Keep your eyes up.
Keep your eyes up.
A Post in the Desert
I thought it worth putting here since this seems to be my archival and spilling tool. A conversation between a dear friend and me:
call it stirring the pot, call it whatever you need to call it. just so happens that i need a vent to fan to so lick it up and pass it back to me if you want. ive talked to the guys about this time and time over and since we are all family here, i might as well let every one in. every so often the filter gets clogged and ive gotta take everything apart to clean whats on the inside. being in sorne is like being chained to a post in the desert. just out of reach of the chain is a well that has no bottom. the heat in the desert kills, the chain is too damn tight and the well is bubbling over and spilling onto the desert floor in the opposite direction of the chain and post. people pass by and drink, bathe, talk about nothing, and worry as much as they care. they dont see the post and if they did, they would see it just as most do, as a post. when they leave, the water stays and so does the sun. theyve wasted and given nothing. through it all, all you can look at is the water. who gives a damn what "they" do with it. the truth of the situation is that you are chained to the post and you have to get loose if you want to drink. sooner or later, one of two things will happen. either youll die chained to a post or youll chew through whatever youve go to to get to that drink. ---
---something is about to happen, and im not sure what it is. the well has no bottom and the post cannot be moved or broken. IVE gotta break. not the chain and not the post.
for clarity's sake. the above post is only to do with what we as a band have to do to get where we are going. we as a unit are, in my opinion, tighter and closer than ever before. the desert metaphor is commentary on the audiences of the world and what we as the performers have to come to terms with.
And my response to him:
Next time you get yourself chained to a post in the middle of the desert do the sensible thing.. bring a hacksaw...
We all have our chains and our posts and our deserts, and the life giving water is just out of reach and it seems that everyone else just takes that water for granted, whereas for us, we would have to break ourselves to get there.
This could just be me, but I think we all are in that desert more times than we would like to be as we move through life and as much as we struggle against that unbending post we are only hurting ourselves. The more we struggle, the deeper that collar digs into our skin. None of us can set oursleves free from our own chains. It is at that point, those of us who have the capacity to, realize two things: A) Someone else has to cut these chains or B) Someone else has to bring us the water. In either state we have to rely on that outside of ourself in order to survive. Some don't like to admit this, but fight as much as you want. This is how humans were made. We are creatures who need others. We can't go through life alone, trying to solve everything on our own. Down that path lies suffering, pain, and eventually death.
As much as others think it, I don't know anymore than the rest of you. We can only see as far as our chains will allow, and I may be missing the point entierly. But I think that as much as we want to focus on that water and struggle claw and fight to get it, it will only hurt us and those around us. Once again, I may be wrong. Maybe I have been staring into the sun for too long, or maybe I have been out here and the heat is getting to me. But I have seen people who have reached for that water their whole life. Me, I think I will work on my tan.
Take what you will from this. It is as crucial to survival as anything else.
Keep your eyes up.
call it stirring the pot, call it whatever you need to call it. just so happens that i need a vent to fan to so lick it up and pass it back to me if you want. ive talked to the guys about this time and time over and since we are all family here, i might as well let every one in. every so often the filter gets clogged and ive gotta take everything apart to clean whats on the inside. being in sorne is like being chained to a post in the desert. just out of reach of the chain is a well that has no bottom. the heat in the desert kills, the chain is too damn tight and the well is bubbling over and spilling onto the desert floor in the opposite direction of the chain and post. people pass by and drink, bathe, talk about nothing, and worry as much as they care. they dont see the post and if they did, they would see it just as most do, as a post. when they leave, the water stays and so does the sun. theyve wasted and given nothing. through it all, all you can look at is the water. who gives a damn what "they" do with it. the truth of the situation is that you are chained to the post and you have to get loose if you want to drink. sooner or later, one of two things will happen. either youll die chained to a post or youll chew through whatever youve go to to get to that drink. ---
---something is about to happen, and im not sure what it is. the well has no bottom and the post cannot be moved or broken. IVE gotta break. not the chain and not the post.
for clarity's sake. the above post is only to do with what we as a band have to do to get where we are going. we as a unit are, in my opinion, tighter and closer than ever before. the desert metaphor is commentary on the audiences of the world and what we as the performers have to come to terms with.
And my response to him:
Next time you get yourself chained to a post in the middle of the desert do the sensible thing.. bring a hacksaw...
We all have our chains and our posts and our deserts, and the life giving water is just out of reach and it seems that everyone else just takes that water for granted, whereas for us, we would have to break ourselves to get there.
This could just be me, but I think we all are in that desert more times than we would like to be as we move through life and as much as we struggle against that unbending post we are only hurting ourselves. The more we struggle, the deeper that collar digs into our skin. None of us can set oursleves free from our own chains. It is at that point, those of us who have the capacity to, realize two things: A) Someone else has to cut these chains or B) Someone else has to bring us the water. In either state we have to rely on that outside of ourself in order to survive. Some don't like to admit this, but fight as much as you want. This is how humans were made. We are creatures who need others. We can't go through life alone, trying to solve everything on our own. Down that path lies suffering, pain, and eventually death.
As much as others think it, I don't know anymore than the rest of you. We can only see as far as our chains will allow, and I may be missing the point entierly. But I think that as much as we want to focus on that water and struggle claw and fight to get it, it will only hurt us and those around us. Once again, I may be wrong. Maybe I have been staring into the sun for too long, or maybe I have been out here and the heat is getting to me. But I have seen people who have reached for that water their whole life. Me, I think I will work on my tan.
Take what you will from this. It is as crucial to survival as anything else.
Keep your eyes up.
Sorne - In a Series of Many - Albany Wonderland
While reviewing some old things I thought I would add to what has been said to give a better idea of what was and what is to come.
Originally posted in other places 18 January 2006:
More than words can say. I am in complete agreement with Mr. Floppy. The show in Albany was amazing. The band was tight, the crowd was responsive, and for the first time, the sound guy wasn't a stick in the mud. When the band was first setting up, Kyle told him he was going to be setting his kit backwards on the high rise that the drum set was going to sit on. The sound man didn't pull a face, he didn't roll his eyes, he didnt even blink. He just said, "Sure man, whatever you want to do." Kyle was dumbfounded. I could tell he was trying to gauge if there was any sarcasm in his repsonse, but when Kyle found it to be genuine he smiled and continued setting up. On top of this wonderful response, the sound man gave Kyle eight, yes that's right, eight mikes for his set. That's is the most mikes he has ever had, and the diffenece was wonderful. Every part of the kit was miked and you could hear every beat, every strike, and every clash that came out of the thunder god's hands.
Now this would have been enough to make this the best in house sound man that we have ever had, but he didn't stop there. When sound checking he wouldn't move on until all of the band was happy. If they wanted something more, he would give it. If they wanted something less, he would turn it down. Even if he had finished with them and they needed something else, he would go back and change it until they were pleased with it. He tweaked and played with the sound until the band was happy and the payoff was amazing. Everything could be heard. Morgan's vocals were strong and clear. All of the subtle nuiances that Morgan would do were easily heard. Both guitars soared and danced together, forming an intricate weave of life and death, pain and joy, bondage and freedom. Andrew's powerful bass could be felt in the chest and everytime he went crazy, you couldn't help but gasp. And as I said before, up on his mountain, the thunder god rained down such power that it consumed all it touched. All of this came together to form one amazing show.
This was enough for me to make it one of the best, but visually they were something to behold. Fog filled the stage and bled out into the crowd as the band started to play. They became figures in the mist, with the lights illuminating their sillouhets, making it all the more haunting and beautiful. Morgan fell to his knees as the band played on, his sorrowful voice encircling and entrancing everyone who looked on. Then an explosion of sound. The song and the band rose and no one could look away. The rest I will have to save.
All in all it was an amazing show. I hope this sheds some light, but realize that it pales in comparison. Thank you for letting me share.
All for the glory of SORNE.
Continuation:
If only. Those boys gave them a walloping. More to tell.. there is always more to tell, and I am happy to tell it. The challenge comes when trying to be as unbiased as possible. After arriving, we listened to the proceeding bands and, frankly, I was completly unimpressed. One after the other, conformity after conformity after conformity. I do not know if you have met Brad Mitchell (tall, red spikey hair, glasses) but he and I were discussing how the bands we watched were taking the same progressions and tweaking them only slightly. The bandwagon had apparently made a stop here. I think it is safe to say that Sorne saved the night, my night at least. If Sorne hadn't played, I am sure that after listening to the bands presented there, I would have killed something.
To continue the story where we left off last time, our heroes were dangling at the end of Lugubris (there once was a lake in the mist...). The intro was also incorporated into Lugubris, and I don't know if you have heard that one yet, but I will leave it as a suprise. Regardless, the band then exploded into the Walls Came Crashing Down, and it was a sight to see. Morgan completly let himself go as did the rest of our boys. As they took off into this song of realization, more and more people came closer to the stage. More and more people were nodding their heads with the music, and more and more the sweet scripture that floated on the wings of the wind enticed them. At one especially hard moment in the song, it looked as if Morgan forgot there was a crowd, forgot there was people watching, lost himself in the embrace of what they were creating, and just let himself go. It almost brought tears to my eyes to witness such a spectacular thing. Such a thing.
By the end of this power house, they had the entire house watching. Whether it was out of respect, interest, intrigue, or disgust, the whole house was watching, so what better to come next. That familiar piano melody rose from Morgan's fingers and those who knew what was coming cheered with much enthusiasm. These Hands of Iniquity renewed our affinity for the sea as we listened on to the tale of sorrow wrapping itself around our minds. I took hold of my chest and swallowed around the lump in my throat as I rose my voice in song. After blowing away the audience with those first two, this only continued to captivate them. Not one could remove his or her eyes from the stage. Not one could deny the lament that took place before them. There couldn't have been a better reaction to the delicate weave that our boys created. When they finished there wasn't a still hand in the house. They were now Sorne's, and this wasn't over yet.
I will continue in my next post where we find out the thrilling conclusion to our story. Stay tuned.
Continuation:
Welcome to the exciting conclusion of SORNE Live in Albany. I'm sure you all are eager to hear the end of our tale so I will get right to it.
At the conclusion of our last segement, our heros were finishing These Hands of Iniquity, and the crowd was thirsting for more. The next song began and no one could contain their joy. Then I Looked to the Sky drifted in as if an old memory, and soon we were all singing along. As I mentioned before the guitars began their intricate dance with each other. For the first time I could close my eyes and hear the ballet that Wes and Will made togther. I smiled to myself and let the old feelings wash over me as we all prepared for the coming of the storm. If they weren't moving before, they were moving now. And so I say this is holy. This is holy. As the storm raged on, and the clouds rolled in, with every thunder clap, this crowd gave in. Over and over and over again, they felt the stab wounds rip through their hearts. Morgan gave back the life that was stolen from them, and left others behind to bleed. Oh, how I miss the ectasy of hate, how I seethe in the pain that it brings. I would never forgive those for what they have done, but the only thing that stops me is the feather of a dove. I wish that i could have captured the feeling in the room and convey it to you. Sufice to say you could light a spot light with the electricity. When the final key was struck, no one could contain themselves, and Sorne was ready to conquer the beast that was next and bring this whole thing crashing on home.
Everyone waited, with eyes as wide as silver dollars, they all held their breath. Those of us who knew what was coming exchanged looks and smiles of joy. We ready ourselves for the battle that was about to take place. The final hour was here and we were ready. That twinge of Will's guitar, those powerful blasts from the thunder god, that haunting moan from Morgan's piano, the rythmic and deliciously brutal chords from Andrew's bass, and above all else the whine of Wes' guitar, like a beast ready to be let loose. None of them knew what was coming, and at the same time they did. They felt it building, they felt the road getting darker up ahead, but they couldn't turn back now. They were Sorne's and there was no escaping what was coming. They kept building, laying it in thicker and thicker, until the pause, the crowd waiting expectantly for something, and then, it hit. But this is Just the Beginning slammed into all of us with Morgan's forceful, and almost frightening, declaration of unbending willpower to go on. There was no choices, no side roads, no turnpikes left. We saw the lighter path, we took the darker one instead. Never was this song more powerful. It thundered through my veins with each verse, pushing me on. All other thoughts were lost, nothing else mattered. We were locked in this dance of death, with Sorne as the choreographer. We were ready to follow. Just when it seemed like we were at the pinacle of the song, Morgan climbed even higher, soaring above all of us, and coming down with a scream, as Wes and the thunder god exploded into what I like to call, "the march". We moved as one, throwing ourselves around like leaves in the wind. In that moment we were free, free of all the trials, the worrys, the strife. We were all free. We were one. I looked from face to face in the crowd, and not one of them felt any different than I. As my eyes returned to the stage, the undenyable life that flowed from each of them, glowed brighter than the sun. As they brought it to a slow halt, we all followed in suite. With the final few crashes and bangs, it was over, what seemed to me, as quickly as it started. With a "Thank you. Have a good night." Sorne exited the stage. The hole they left when they walked off that stage was too big to fill by any of these other bands. Nothing else even came close to comparing to what we had just witnessed. Praise God for giving me eyes to see and ears to hear what had just transpired. It is for this reason that I have devoted my life to the life that this project gives, and no one can deny that.
All for the glory of Sorne.
Originally posted in other places 18 January 2006:
More than words can say. I am in complete agreement with Mr. Floppy. The show in Albany was amazing. The band was tight, the crowd was responsive, and for the first time, the sound guy wasn't a stick in the mud. When the band was first setting up, Kyle told him he was going to be setting his kit backwards on the high rise that the drum set was going to sit on. The sound man didn't pull a face, he didn't roll his eyes, he didnt even blink. He just said, "Sure man, whatever you want to do." Kyle was dumbfounded. I could tell he was trying to gauge if there was any sarcasm in his repsonse, but when Kyle found it to be genuine he smiled and continued setting up. On top of this wonderful response, the sound man gave Kyle eight, yes that's right, eight mikes for his set. That's is the most mikes he has ever had, and the diffenece was wonderful. Every part of the kit was miked and you could hear every beat, every strike, and every clash that came out of the thunder god's hands.
Now this would have been enough to make this the best in house sound man that we have ever had, but he didn't stop there. When sound checking he wouldn't move on until all of the band was happy. If they wanted something more, he would give it. If they wanted something less, he would turn it down. Even if he had finished with them and they needed something else, he would go back and change it until they were pleased with it. He tweaked and played with the sound until the band was happy and the payoff was amazing. Everything could be heard. Morgan's vocals were strong and clear. All of the subtle nuiances that Morgan would do were easily heard. Both guitars soared and danced together, forming an intricate weave of life and death, pain and joy, bondage and freedom. Andrew's powerful bass could be felt in the chest and everytime he went crazy, you couldn't help but gasp. And as I said before, up on his mountain, the thunder god rained down such power that it consumed all it touched. All of this came together to form one amazing show.
This was enough for me to make it one of the best, but visually they were something to behold. Fog filled the stage and bled out into the crowd as the band started to play. They became figures in the mist, with the lights illuminating their sillouhets, making it all the more haunting and beautiful. Morgan fell to his knees as the band played on, his sorrowful voice encircling and entrancing everyone who looked on. Then an explosion of sound. The song and the band rose and no one could look away. The rest I will have to save.
All in all it was an amazing show. I hope this sheds some light, but realize that it pales in comparison. Thank you for letting me share.
All for the glory of SORNE.
Continuation:
If only. Those boys gave them a walloping. More to tell.. there is always more to tell, and I am happy to tell it. The challenge comes when trying to be as unbiased as possible. After arriving, we listened to the proceeding bands and, frankly, I was completly unimpressed. One after the other, conformity after conformity after conformity. I do not know if you have met Brad Mitchell (tall, red spikey hair, glasses) but he and I were discussing how the bands we watched were taking the same progressions and tweaking them only slightly. The bandwagon had apparently made a stop here. I think it is safe to say that Sorne saved the night, my night at least. If Sorne hadn't played, I am sure that after listening to the bands presented there, I would have killed something.
To continue the story where we left off last time, our heroes were dangling at the end of Lugubris (there once was a lake in the mist...). The intro was also incorporated into Lugubris, and I don't know if you have heard that one yet, but I will leave it as a suprise. Regardless, the band then exploded into the Walls Came Crashing Down, and it was a sight to see. Morgan completly let himself go as did the rest of our boys. As they took off into this song of realization, more and more people came closer to the stage. More and more people were nodding their heads with the music, and more and more the sweet scripture that floated on the wings of the wind enticed them. At one especially hard moment in the song, it looked as if Morgan forgot there was a crowd, forgot there was people watching, lost himself in the embrace of what they were creating, and just let himself go. It almost brought tears to my eyes to witness such a spectacular thing. Such a thing.
By the end of this power house, they had the entire house watching. Whether it was out of respect, interest, intrigue, or disgust, the whole house was watching, so what better to come next. That familiar piano melody rose from Morgan's fingers and those who knew what was coming cheered with much enthusiasm. These Hands of Iniquity renewed our affinity for the sea as we listened on to the tale of sorrow wrapping itself around our minds. I took hold of my chest and swallowed around the lump in my throat as I rose my voice in song. After blowing away the audience with those first two, this only continued to captivate them. Not one could remove his or her eyes from the stage. Not one could deny the lament that took place before them. There couldn't have been a better reaction to the delicate weave that our boys created. When they finished there wasn't a still hand in the house. They were now Sorne's, and this wasn't over yet.
I will continue in my next post where we find out the thrilling conclusion to our story. Stay tuned.
Continuation:
Welcome to the exciting conclusion of SORNE Live in Albany. I'm sure you all are eager to hear the end of our tale so I will get right to it.
At the conclusion of our last segement, our heros were finishing These Hands of Iniquity, and the crowd was thirsting for more. The next song began and no one could contain their joy. Then I Looked to the Sky drifted in as if an old memory, and soon we were all singing along. As I mentioned before the guitars began their intricate dance with each other. For the first time I could close my eyes and hear the ballet that Wes and Will made togther. I smiled to myself and let the old feelings wash over me as we all prepared for the coming of the storm. If they weren't moving before, they were moving now. And so I say this is holy. This is holy. As the storm raged on, and the clouds rolled in, with every thunder clap, this crowd gave in. Over and over and over again, they felt the stab wounds rip through their hearts. Morgan gave back the life that was stolen from them, and left others behind to bleed. Oh, how I miss the ectasy of hate, how I seethe in the pain that it brings. I would never forgive those for what they have done, but the only thing that stops me is the feather of a dove. I wish that i could have captured the feeling in the room and convey it to you. Sufice to say you could light a spot light with the electricity. When the final key was struck, no one could contain themselves, and Sorne was ready to conquer the beast that was next and bring this whole thing crashing on home.
Everyone waited, with eyes as wide as silver dollars, they all held their breath. Those of us who knew what was coming exchanged looks and smiles of joy. We ready ourselves for the battle that was about to take place. The final hour was here and we were ready. That twinge of Will's guitar, those powerful blasts from the thunder god, that haunting moan from Morgan's piano, the rythmic and deliciously brutal chords from Andrew's bass, and above all else the whine of Wes' guitar, like a beast ready to be let loose. None of them knew what was coming, and at the same time they did. They felt it building, they felt the road getting darker up ahead, but they couldn't turn back now. They were Sorne's and there was no escaping what was coming. They kept building, laying it in thicker and thicker, until the pause, the crowd waiting expectantly for something, and then, it hit. But this is Just the Beginning slammed into all of us with Morgan's forceful, and almost frightening, declaration of unbending willpower to go on. There was no choices, no side roads, no turnpikes left. We saw the lighter path, we took the darker one instead. Never was this song more powerful. It thundered through my veins with each verse, pushing me on. All other thoughts were lost, nothing else mattered. We were locked in this dance of death, with Sorne as the choreographer. We were ready to follow. Just when it seemed like we were at the pinacle of the song, Morgan climbed even higher, soaring above all of us, and coming down with a scream, as Wes and the thunder god exploded into what I like to call, "the march". We moved as one, throwing ourselves around like leaves in the wind. In that moment we were free, free of all the trials, the worrys, the strife. We were all free. We were one. I looked from face to face in the crowd, and not one of them felt any different than I. As my eyes returned to the stage, the undenyable life that flowed from each of them, glowed brighter than the sun. As they brought it to a slow halt, we all followed in suite. With the final few crashes and bangs, it was over, what seemed to me, as quickly as it started. With a "Thank you. Have a good night." Sorne exited the stage. The hole they left when they walked off that stage was too big to fill by any of these other bands. Nothing else even came close to comparing to what we had just witnessed. Praise God for giving me eyes to see and ears to hear what had just transpired. It is for this reason that I have devoted my life to the life that this project gives, and no one can deny that.
All for the glory of Sorne.
Sorne - The First of Many - A Prophet Among Theives
You will find, from time to time, that I will comment on a project that is close to the heart of me. Their, his, our goal is one in the same. Many more to come.
In a time of false gods and undeserving canonization, this gives proof that there is still fire in the outside world. There are campfires that still make real smoke. There is still genuine feeling in music. There is still someone with guts left in their body. Written from the soul and played with blood in the mouth, this will get you down deep, let the floodgates up, and grab you where it hurts. Blood in the mouth, blood on the paper, blood pumpin in the veins.
Too much feeling here to deny.
Keep your eyes up.
In a time of false gods and undeserving canonization, this gives proof that there is still fire in the outside world. There are campfires that still make real smoke. There is still genuine feeling in music. There is still someone with guts left in their body. Written from the soul and played with blood in the mouth, this will get you down deep, let the floodgates up, and grab you where it hurts. Blood in the mouth, blood on the paper, blood pumpin in the veins.
Too much feeling here to deny.
Keep your eyes up.
11 December 2007
GUTS - The missing link
Forward into the howling dark is exactly right. Codename GUTS has been pushed to the forefront of my mind once again and makes me excited all the more. My other projects have drilled a hole in my skull and is letting all the molasses out. This is the best I have felt in a long time. To be this busy, but with things that I really want to accomplish. Hopefully this fire won't leave me for a while.
On top of all this, I think I derive the most satisfaction from getting the shit kicked out of me. There is nothing else in the world that can make you feel more alive. If you don't know what I mean then you should try it sometime. If you can't understand what I am talking about then you are more a prisoner than you know.
Keep your eyes up.
On top of all this, I think I derive the most satisfaction from getting the shit kicked out of me. There is nothing else in the world that can make you feel more alive. If you don't know what I mean then you should try it sometime. If you can't understand what I am talking about then you are more a prisoner than you know.
Keep your eyes up.
The End of all Things
It has come to my attention that many things are going down the shitter now-a-days, and I, being the whore that I am, decided to post here several things. There is no point to this, not right now anyway, and this is more a test of fortitude than anything else. As always, the medium sticks its ever so large dick into anything that I am trying to say.
Keep your eyes up.
Keep your eyes up.
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