"My brother unforgiven."

And because what is precious is ---- a man who does what needs to be done to uphold them, should, must, and can not fail.

Even if he ends up broken, dead, worse, or less than something human.

Now, do you understand?

Vilano, my brother.

Stormbringer

What is she like?

Is she kind, sweet, perhaps independent and strong-willed? Someone who shares my ideals or opposed to them (if you believe that opposites attract)? Is she noble or selfish?

I often wonder about the woman I will / may spend the rest of my life with.

What is the colour of her eyes? So far, every lass I have gone sweet on has braune augen.

It's past vier in die morgen und ich kann nicht schlafen.

I have a thing about languages. No, I can't really speak Deutsch. Just a few smattering words. I'm probably too lazy to ever make it a point to master a third language.

Where will she and I meet?

Will we share our first kiss in the sunset or over some candle-lit meal in a restaurant, in romantic cliché?

I would like my romantic life to be more...... exhilarating.

I would like to share a kiss with a girl as the clouds overhead turn gray suddenly. It is not dark, but bright, in the face of the on-coming storm; as lightning bolts fence and dance and spend their passion upon the ground and the very earth trembles in a cacophonic symphony of thunder. The nimbus of clouds roll, seethe, and writhe like a leviathan entangled by its own coils ---- threaten to unleash the elements about us, but they do not; for ours is the greater passion, such that even the skies are humbled. The torrent withheld from vent is like the paradox that is the physics-defying emotions that pulses back and forth within our mortal bodies, somehow contained, not bursting forth like an incandescent power that consumes everything in its wake were it not so constrained. Time seems to stand still and flux in a world-rending upheaval at the same moment. The breeze that whispers gently about us tears away newspapers, umbrellas, plastic bags, and paper cups elsewhere, and flings them to the heavens where the stage is set for their dance with the wind.

Wow. I feel like I'm 15, thinking that way.

It was like a gentle breeze.

I was late for night class today, and I ran into my ex, on the train station (where else?).

I thought I was never going receive complete closure about our separation, having walked on the brink of depression, but when I saw her today, I managed to keep a straight face while talking to her when I noticed a giganormous zit on her face, while I called her names in my mind.

Hah, I should talk; I had rushed out of the train with my hair tousled, with a little chocolate smudged at the corner of my lip, and the scabs of a recent outbreak, looking for all the world like a little boy who had lost his mommy.

Then again, just months ago, despite zitzilla ramapaging across her face, it was one I would still hold and kiss fondly anyway.

I miss the times that we stood together in the sunset. As your eyes caught the evening rays, they turned into startling pools of hazel; like the colour of rich Earl Grey tea. Then I pulled you close and smelled the sweet scent of your hair and my dreams soared high alive.

Briefly.

Original or Crispy?

HAHA! This made my day!



One order of Colonel Sander's Original 2 Piece Chicken Drumstick 54 Hit Mega Combo Special coming up! With a side order of cheese fries please!

The Limper

I stepped out of the train station and was in the process of securing the pocket on the side of the knee of my slacks while I ambled home.

I suppose I must have looked like a paraplegic limper.

"Mommy, why is the man beside us walking in such a queer manner?"

An innocent question from a girl to her mother.

Whom appeared initially to be a genial old fellow passing by smiled roguishly at the lass and mimed a man suffering from a case of dual misfortunes, afflicted both with elephantitis and down syndrome ---- he looked well-practiced, I must say.

The little girl laughed.

Now, that's all fine and dandy, having a laugh at my goof.

What would have happened if it wasn't me, but someone who was really ailing from, say, rheumatoid arthritis, or cerebral palsy, or even a case of stroke or diabetes?

I thought senior citizens were more humane, having weathered more years and gained some shred of decency and compassion for the less fortunate.

That was rude, insensitive, and uncalled for.

For all my bluster and firm stance about never allowing trolls to get away with being what they are, what did I do?

I was inclined to put a blade at his throat, have him whimper and shit his pants, before smiling and removing the blade, giving him a second to believe I was not about to open a second leer on that wrinkled gullet, and just as he is about to heave a sigh of relief, hamstring him.

Have him know what it is really like to walk the rest of his years with a gimped leg.

No, I did not.

The girl kept laughing.

The mother said nothing. Not a word of admonishment to her daughter, or the old wart.

I was tempted to at least walk up to the trio and give them a piece of my fist mind.

I wonder what held me back?

I guess I was too busy feeling disgusted.

What the fuck is wrong with these people?

Siege Perilous

Time you faced yourself as a man.

You harbour a deep sense of loathing and contempt for your fellow men because you find that they have a strong potential for oppressing the individual, that they get in your way of doing things. That you feel almost totally hapless sometimes because they are legion while you are but one, that few would take you on in a fair man-to-man fight and for those who would, who would triumph over you fairly, you hate them all the more, because you can't stand the idea of not winning, not having your way, despite fighting fairly. You see this as a flaw within yourself, a spoilt brat, and you see that is only because you are only human, like the rest of them, and you hate yourself for that, and you hate them all the more thus. You also find most of their actions, their scruples, and their demeanor, disgusting, and again, you hate them all the more, because you are like them, and it tears you up inside, hence your constant endeavors to put yourself above them, to make yourself different. This is also because you can't stand merely being a part of something larger than you are; your ego screams out harsh dictums for you to be who you want to be, because you wish to feel whole, not just a part of something, especially something that you hold in contempt.

For years, yes, years, you have struggled with your incorrigible wrath, in a large part due to your troubled past, and you have committed the largest sin of all.

You have at least tried to smother your rage, dampen it, make it less obvious, in the eyes of the friends and family who have tried to reach to you, to care for, understand, and help you break free of it. You have kept it at least partially shrouded from them, that they know not the extend of your sociopathy, how it is about to blow completely out of proportion. They tried to talk you out of it, even beat you out of it, and you scheming bastard, you've led them to think that they have succeeded.

You almost cannot believe that you fooled them. Then again, maybe they just wish to give you the benefit of doubt, not being as obtuse as you make them out to be, because they think better of you, of what you're capable of, and you're going to let them down.

You constantly plot the downfall of those you hold in contempt, and you would trust no one outside your circle of friends. Every time a stranger so much as looks at you, walks past you, too close for comfort, you dream about beating the fuck out of him / her for even touching you, because you are so self-absorbed your personal space has become nigh sacred, holy ground to you. You have kept the anger under wraps for so long, it has mutated unnoticed, warped you into an aggressive miscreant, angry, not even in the name of what you hold holy, sacred, true and dear, and your thirst for vindication no longer has basis. It has twisted you, having made you lose sight of your ideals, because you have not kept a firm leash upon it.

It is also the reason why you are so afraid of entering a relationship with anyone, despite being eager, because your last vestiges of decency allow you to see your immaturity and vileness as a person, even if you refuse to admit it, and it forbids you to inflict yourself upon the woman who would be the love of your life.

You spend much of your spare time slothing, sleeping, having tired yourself out from keeping your nihilistic outlook and contempt for the world at the edges of your consciousness, intentionally or not, which prevents you from doing anything constructive with your life. Which, is still better than training fanatically in the arts of combat and making weapons, with which you have adjusted their potency, such that they maim and hurt, but not kill. You believe that you would have cause to use them someday, against people you deem fit to impose your own warped sense of justice and contempteousness upon, and that if you kill them, they wouldn't learn. You want them to hurt, to pay, to be forcefully "educated".

What is it that you wish them to learn?

To share your views of what is right and what is not? To be humane despite being human? To be noble where the nature of man would have them revile?

Do you honestly believe maiming them, beating the shit out of them, would make them learn?

You are doubly contemptible because you are full goddamned well aware of the fucking consequences of zealotry and yet you persist. Because you are who you are, that's what you do.

You are a child who refuses to grow up, that is what you are, partly because you believe the naivete of children is innocence, and precious, and you would break the bones of another man who does not share this perspective, freely, without remorse.

Heck, you would break his bones without remorse anyway, simply if he got in your way of doing things, because you believe you uphold a higher justice than your fellow men.

Which has been lost beneath your rage, that you would gladly thump him even for simply provoking a reaction from you.

What have you become?

Listen to the man, the friend you have some measure of respect for.

"Be the change you wish to see in the world."

You wish to judge the fucking world then judge your fucking self first!

Earlier in the evening, you were told that your friend's brother, at 14 years of age, broke a classmate's cheekbone with a stick with some cement crusted upon one end. You see what the youth of today has become?

Like you.

Angry, aggressive, anti-social.

He is not a bad person at heart. So what would you do if you came across him on the streets someday? Beat him up because he starts something with you? I thought you wanted people to learn.

That is why, you asked your friend to bring her brother to you. Because you finally accept the fact that, he, like you, needs a group of friends who would keep him out of trouble, who do not judge him the way you judge almost everyone else, who would accept him for who he is, hold him in respect, and teach and care for him. The ones who have stood by you all these years inspite of every fuck-up you have caused over the years.

You see yourself in this boy, don't you?

(From what you hear, he even dresses similarly to you, hah.)

After all, it wasn't all that long ago that you were more like him than you are now. It was you, who stuck a small blade into the belly of someone, when you were only 9. Lucky for you, the wound was shallow. Lucky for you, even at your age, the boy, who took the blow for his friend who pushed you, never thought a big deal about it. Lucky for you, his parents never pressed any charges.

Lucky you met better men than you.

Now, think about what you need to do.

Given Me Some Pause......

Are you so compelled to compel, to impose your will, your own supposed brand of justice, upon others? Ware! The cost is your soul! Your presumptuous hubris will damn you and your own actions will cry out for true justice against yourself. To act as you choose, be ready for the consequences.