Ok I have come to realise that most people here on my friends list dont really see me as a friend (dont worry I know who I can really count on there are a few of you out there id trust with my life) anyway its to those few and all of you that I now ask for all of your help.
Hmm, I don't know if the stuff I'm interested in fits the subject matter of your website. Seems like card games and comics. I don't know much about those things, though I could review tons of games that I own, if that's anything.
Sorry for my lack of activity this week
As of Thursday I have temporarily lost half my hearing (the left half) so thats kept me occupied and before that i was just sick (this is a continuation of the same infection) but on the plus side I had a great Wednesday lol anyway just hope everyone's still alive out there and sorry for being gone.
Once upon a time, I, Chuang Chou, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was Chou. Soon I awaked, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man. Between a man and a butterfly there is necessarily a distinction. The transition is called the transformation of material things.
I heard this once when I studied philosophy with Jostein Garder's book: "Sophia's world". I also had the pc game for it, and this has always been something that stuck in my mind. I find it fascinating and beautiful, how we can perceive things, yet never know if what we see is real or not. Actually, I believe the matrix world was based on this.
I would say it's both things! when uner the effects of alcohol people tend to do things that sober they might not do, but even so, we have at least a degree of conciensce that says: "hey! wait! stop!" so, I ussually blame both parts.
I got back from Serbia on the 9th of Feb after Ves kicked me out for being upset over the news my prick of an exboyfriend had killed himself. Annoyingly enough, he hadn't. She was a piece of work though, with no emotional regulation, a drinking problem and a temper, well it was sad having to come to terms with it but she was always a bit strange. It is the last time I ever listen to my mother though. It could have ended much worse.
Upon getting back, I dated a bit and needed some physical reassurence which was nice. Even nicer, I met a guy who put me onto a friend of his who was getting people together to live in a warehouse in London. So I'm moving into a warehouse in London by the end of the month.
Okay, so after my last entry I had a bit more to drink and went to bed. Only to be woken up shortly after by the french couple trying to have very quiet sex on a creaky bed separated from me only by 10 feet and a bed sheet they'd hung up from the rafters, then I realized I need to pee. Conundrum. Do I just get up and go pee and have them possibly think I've been listening to them, or do I wait for them to stop, with a pillow wrapped around my head till I can't hold it any longer. I went for option two but when my bladder decided I couldn't wait much longer and by this point I was quite frankly sick of trying to muffle the sound of these two go it at it, I started coughing as if I'd just been awoken by inhaling something and couldn't breathe- not too dramatically of course, and went down stairs to go piss. Not five minutes after I'm back in bed I start hearing rhythmic creaking again and heavy breathing. Oh for fucks sake guys, literally, does it have to be tonight? After we left you alone in the house all bloody day?! Thankfully the fucking dogs come to my rescue and begin to bark at the moon incessantly right below the attic where it hangs over the walkway at the side of the house. I can't stand those noisy, flea ridden little bastards but the boys love them and apparently my ex-art-tutor has repeatedly tried to abandon them and lose them (they were street dogs when the boys unofficially adopted them) in the woods but they always came back; but tonight they gave me the perfect reason to storm out of the attic, go have a cup of tea and find my laptop. It's past three in the bloody morning here and I have to be up at half 8 but fuck it, these lousy french kids are getting a taste of their own medicine.
Mood: Pissed off Music: the fucking neighborhood roosters trying to out noise the fucking dogs
Okay, I promised a few people now I'd write a journal entry on Serbia and as I've been here since the 11th it's about time I got my arse in gear and wrote something. Arses with gears, hmm... Steampunk?
Well, what to say; this place is an eastern European stereotype. It's flat, falling apart and grey. The people still look oppressed, with their 80's hair cuts and knock off sports wear. The air is so polluted in some places it hurts to breathe. Everyone smokes. This isn't so bad as cigarettes are cheap but on the 4th I switched over to vaping, bought an Ego-c and an Odyssy along with a bunch of e-liquids in yummy flavours, well that lasted till about the 14th when the booze came out (along with the power tools, and boy oh boy how I wish I was saying this in a sex way but alas, no. Fucking power tools, as in drills and jigsaw cutters. We were making bird houses- Fuck I forgot to mention, I'm staying with an art tutor I used to have in college many moons ago who runs a (really shitty) commune out here. A bunch of folk showed up, well a boring as white paint french couple and two local roofers, one of which isn't bad looking but is currently sleeping with another, rather cool art tutor of mine (the one who took my studio photos in the album, you know the ones with me in the tu-tu and the corsets and the rubber bands and dolls), so no chance of me getting any sort of a shag there. The other is pretty old and fat but a complete sweetie.) Anyway, I gave up vaping, a box of Lucky Strikes costs the equivalent of £2.50 for 20 and are the perfect accompaniment to sticky plum wne and it's distilled counter part.
So far out here I've been a glorified babysitter for my ex-art tutors two kids (11 and 13, both boys), whom I found obnoxious till earlier today when we went into the nearest town so art tutor could go to the doctors as she's been horrendously ill, grouchy and bed bound since we arrived. They were angels, I took photos, drank coffee and they only fought once in three hours! And no one got injured, nor did either cry or go off in a huff! It's amazing how loud they are though! We've (the boring French couple (did I mention I'm sharing an attic dorm with them?) been babysitting them now for days and it's constant fighting and bad grammar till today, where all my subtle hints and exasperated English lessons started to take hold, they even want to start playing D&D!! We may make geeks of them yet!
It's taking all my strength not to go home though, still. As my recently mentioned ex (yes, the one I just broke up with after forming so many beautiful life plans with) is homeless, I offered him my flat for the month I'm away. I really don't want to have to see him again. It's bad enough being in love with this idea of him which doesn't in fact exist but having to see him again would, again break my heart. I couldn't let him sleep on the streets though, even if he's got himself into the situation in the first place. He keeps fucking up his life and then blaming the world for it. The world owes you nothing sweetie, if anything to keep living and mooching off this planet, you owe it something. I want to tell him to get his act together but it's the wrong thing to say on so many levels. I wish I could get this love thing out of my system. It was never him I was in love with, just that image of him I'd created in my mind. I'm so glad I'm able to see my thoughts like this and stay on the ball with why I feel the way I do in situations. Sadly with him though, I just wanted to ride the love (pardon the pun) as long as i could before I had to climb off and admit it was a phallus-y (sorry, I couldn't help it there!).
I'm so craving a sexy hippy with a smart mind and high sex drive. I want to be swept off my feet and fall into a romance which is real! Calling all sexy hippys, come to Serbia, sweep me off my feet and fuck me six ways from Sunday!
When I get home, I think I'll look into buying a canal boat. I don't know. I want so much from my life and yet I really don't think I'll end up getting it. I want to be a wild child, living in abandon with fun times and cool people. Sadly, I'm more likely to buy a boat, get a shitty bunch of jobs and become a boring, lonely lesbian. Because all women who live alone on canal boats are lesbians. True fact. That means it's not just a fact but it's also a true one....
Where's cool to live, guaranteed fun times, good parties and interesting people? I want a fun life, help me out!
Mood: drinking plum wine and smoking cigartettes. Music:
So, I now have the money but not the man. I split with my boyfriend. Sometimes people just don't change, however much I wish they had. I won't go into it. The thing is though, I had built these plans and they worked so well with a partner there for moral support. You know, rent a house in a new city, get a job for the first time ever and make new friends- these things are far easier to do when not alone. I know, I should count my blessings that I saw his true colours now and not once we were living together. I also know that for all my faults, his aren't and I have nothing to blame myself for except maybe rose tinted glasses. I'm scared about facing the future alone though. I've spent too long alone to know how to handle all the people I'm going to be around and all the things I have to do. I want a friend, one I can live with and one that isn't abusive. I want a friend I can love and hold dear and who wants to be everything I want to be for them. I also want a friend I can fuck. I spent just over £100 on sex toys earlier, mainly as there is no longer great sex every night. I think it was one of the only compatabilities we had, great sex and fabulous taste in medias and style. I also bought two e-cigarettes and a tonne of e-juice which I can't wait to try. I'm going to quit smoking first, then work on finding anew place to live. After that on finding at least 40 hours a week of work and then, if I have the energy some friends and a healthy relationship with food. I'm pretty scared though. Moving will be a big change in my life, a new begining and I know that if I can do it alone, I can do anything.
Ok its highly unlikely but apparently the worlds going to end in a few hours, I doubt this will happen but just gonna do a journal and say that everyone on my friends list is awesome lol
Theres a few of you I have known for years
and some I have only started talking to recently but you all kick ass in your own special way. Anyway while driving to work this morning this came on the radio (then the radio station just died how ominous so its totally not kewl but I dedicate this song to you guys lol.
i dont really think its going to happen but its all a lil bit of fun lol
Jean saw the shadow move across the ceiling. Her cue. Max had just got back in and now she had to walk down the corridor, get in the lift, head down to 9 and walk through the link to the next building where she'd have a costume change waiting for her hidden in the ceiling of the ladies toilet in Starbox and enough money and morpha to last her five days with which she was to dissapear.
The dress Max had given her was really pretty, pale green and boatnecked with a long narrow skirt which came down to just below the knee. A red curly wig, which actually felt like real hair which creeped her out somewhat, beige plastic framed cat eye shades and very high beige heels, little beige hat and tiny beige envelope bag completed the look. She had never looked this fancy. The dress was so tiny though she didn't eat for a week to get into it.
Max was funny. He was always getting her to model for him, walk around in fancy clothes and this wig so he could reccord it. Jean wondered if he really could make her a model. All the other guys who had said that only wanted freebees but Max never touched her like that, gave her a bed of her own and morpha every day. Maybe he loved her she wondered but it didn't seem likely what with the not sleeping with her.
She had clacked her be-heeled way down the cold grey concrete corridor to the lift and pushed the button. It wasn't often there was no one about considering the 100people at least who must live on each floor but it was quater to three in the morning she supposed. There'd be people in the links though, she could show off a bit and maybe get lucky before she got her bag from Starbox. The lift was also empty and she travelled alone down to 9 and walked out into the link.
The links are the tunnels connecting all the buildings. The links have a rail running through, shops restaurants and venues. The buildings are all either living or working quaters.
Jean will throw the plan off yet again. Introduce anothe character.
"Keswa, she's light as a feather." Max stroked the outline of the body through the canvas. "I'm off, you clean up and I'll give Jean the signal to go. I'll call you once I've got rid of our little friend here." he stroked at her body again, absent mindedly though, like a pregnant woman would her bump and walked back to the lougne and Alister heard him hooking the ropes back on and climbing out of the window.
"right. Rags and bleach." there was less blood than he'd thought there had been. Just a few congealed brown slugs on the tile and a smear on the side of the sink. He was done within minutes and then stripped, placed his clothes and the rags in a paper bag and stuck them in the hatstand by the door and then climbered back into the bed, more tired than he had ever been.
He heard Jean leave next door and grinned as he fell into deep sleep.
*
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Max was panicking. He had not expected the head wound. Not at all. This was not part of the plan. He had kept his cool with Alister but that was easy the fucking gorilla was thick as two planks and shit scared of him,.as he rightly should be considering. Oh shit, oh shit, oh
oh shit! Not good. He hooked the ropes back in to his makeshit harness and climbed back up to his apartment shaking and dumped the girl on his bed. Fuck the sheets, blood could be dealt with later. Keswa, he should never have got involved with all this.
He pulled down a lamp from the ceiling and shone it at the scrawny body of the red head on his bed. She was so thin. When did that happen?! And what was with the red hair? He cradled her head in his lap to examine the head wound, it didn't look so bad upon closer inspection. He pulled his phone from his breast pocket and found the MRI app and gave her a quick scan. Brain dead but that was to be expected,.at least nothing was damaged though. Ready to fire up at any point. Repocketing the phone he walked over to his deask and fumbled amongst the clutter for super glue and the pink vial and hyperdermic and on second thought he dug out a sheet of sleeping pills too and popped out several.
It took steady hands to glue the gash on Marshas head back together without matting her pretty red ringletts further but he managed it. He'd have to bring her back before he could send her to sleep again though, which was going to be trickier but he remedied that by tying her spread eagle to the bed and taping her mouth shut. Which was a tad harsh but she'd understand and considering their past possibly forgive him one day.
The pink vial was to act like an electric adrena and fire trillions of nano-bio bots into her heart to restart it. She'd technically be a zombie though, all Marsha but not alive naturally the biobots would be keeping her alive.
Right. Max had once seen a really old visual media where a gangster took his bosses overdosing girlfriend to his dealers house and they had to inject her with adrenaline to bring her back. They had panicked and freaked out but managed it in one go. This was what he had to do. It had felt so weird touching Marsha again. Holding her. Tying her to his bed again. Now this. Now pulling up her shirt and finding her heart. Her small breasts perched on her visible ribcage. He could count every rib. He knew Alistair hd been abusive and that Marsha had had issues with her body but this. His yeys stunf with tears and that thick feeling welled up in the back of his mouth. Alistair was going to get everything he deserved, remember that was the plan. Then it over came him, he collapsed on her cold pale chest and cried and cried. His head resting on her left breast his arm underneath herholding her tiny body to him. She still smelled the same as she had done, all those years ago. Nag Champa insence and cinnamon vape. He needed her alive. It couldn't be left much longer anyway. With the huge needle filled, he straddled her hips and took a deep breath before slamming it down and pushing the plunger. He actually felt it break through the cartilige and enter the muscle. When he felt a heart beat he pulled out the seringe and climbed off. It'd take a few minutes for her body to start working so he used the time to crush the sleeping pills and dilute them with water and refill the needle and climb back on the bed. He'd need to be there to reasdure Marsh when she awoke. She was more than smart enough,.even if she had somehow fallen for thr dangerous bastard down stairs and would understand. She'd have no other choice, he had the sensor reccordings and could prove it.
She was starting to seize, her body expelling the drug which killed her in a foul scented sweat which soaked his sheets and every muscle tremored. He'd have to time the sedative right and hook up the IV to rehydrate her once she was asleep and calm.
Her eyes fluttered and her dry mouth made a gutteral groan. She wasn't quite awake but certainly alive, he injected the sedative in the back of her left hand where the veins were raised to save tying a tourniquet and digging in her arm.
Man the sweat stank. He knew it would though. It was the only way he could have done it. Convincing Alistair had been easy but finding a way to effectively kill Marsha without damaging her brain wasn't so. He'd spent months experiminting on 'clone your own' chimps to get the right formulae and spent a small fortune on smuggled medichem and the damn biobots. Even worse were the sleepless nights covering his trail. And Jean, she was a stroke of luck. He'd found her walking the Links selling herself to keep her morpha habit and was so struck by her resemblance to Marsha that he offered her a deal on the spot. And what down on her luck lady with a habit of her caliber would turn down a regulated supply of morpha and a bed to gerself to star in a few videos as Marsha. Not that he told her ofcourse. The less anyone knew, the better.
Max untied Marsha and tried not to feel awkward undressing her. She was snoring gently and a pale pink flush had spread across her skin. He carried her to his bathroom and placed her gentley in the tub to rinse the rancid narcotic sweat from her. Leaving her propped up in the tub he changed the sheets, found some pajamas and a clean towel and dried and dressed her before placing her in his bed and hooking up the IV. "Sleep my darling. Everything is going to be so different now." he kissed her forehead and felt his eyes sting again.
Little spoon curled up next to her big strong man. Hours into thick sleep which wrapped around her mind. Not sure whether dreaming or awake, seemingly both aware but far away from her body. Warm, drifting, so comfortable. His slow, mesured breathing, reassures; reminds she is safe.
Wait, a very recent memory surfaces. Did he say something? She tries to respond, something simple like "What?" but nothing comes out. Her body doesn't respond to the command. She tries again and from miles away she hears herself struggle to push out words with a heavy, dry mouth. It doesn't matter, if it were important, he'd wake her. Just drift, she thinks.
Sudden smouldering pain at the back of her head, as if she'd touched a live wire but the sensation is both drawn out and instant, once again paralysing her but this time not from sleep but- numbness? ! ...
What seems like an hour but was probably mear seconds the numbness is replaced with full on burning, every fiber of her being was momentarily aflame. Body twitching, legs jerking and arms would have flailled but for the duvet wrapped around them.
Minutes or hours? Sleep dulled panic rises to mingle with confusion.
Boyfriend is still asleep.
And then she has controll. Stumbles out of bed. Freezing tile beneath her feet, the room spins, a pale arm glowing around the edges grabs the door frame. She feels the cool varnish against the pads of her fingers before she realises it's her. arm. The glare of the street lamps outside is harsh and that orange light feels intrusive, like it was climbing through her eyes. Starburst of pain from the back of her head.
Water, dehydrated she thinks. Sour mouth. How? She drinls litres of water every day. She pushes stiff jelly legs, each step harder than the last till finally she accomplishes the seven steps to the bathroom sink but she lacked the strength to turn the stiff, icey tap. With both hands and an animalistic grunt the tap spins blasting water so loudly her ears ring and rumbles but she laps it up out of a cupped hand greedily and it soothed her pain. Till her knees gave way and she hit her head on the sink on her way down. She doesn't fall unconsious but is somehow trapped in her head. The pain, so much pain. Her head, the smouldering which so briefly abated is back with spite, joined by a sharp needling from her forehead. Her back screams in agony as if her spine were tied in a knot. There is pain from her right leg and arm too but it's overshadowed by the rest.
The water is still gushing, loud as the dams she remembers outside her home city, all those worlds away.
Briefly flashes of her estranged parents come to her, of them all in the family home. Of sunny summers days and domestic violence.
She can no longer feel the pain from her body. Nor see but her eyes weren't open. The last whisps of memory drain out of her- that day she was finally free.
Once all the thrashing and whimpering inthe bathroom had stopped, he permitted himself to sit up. He had done it. He reached for his vape he'd left charging on the bedside table and inhaled deeply with shaking hands. The spicey.sweet nicotine soothed him and the vapour shimmered as the water droplets caught the light. He had never understood how Marsha managed to live in this dive, it was never dark or silent out here and eternally cold.
After a few more puffs he put down the vape. His breath still misted infront of him.
"forty minutes" he reminds himself. "forty minutes and you're going to be rich."
Shivering as his hairy feet touched down on the tile, silently he padded across the room aquiring tshirt and jeans in the half dark. He'd need his boots too to climb out and reset the sensor but that could wait a minute. He wanted to see her. See the mess the silly bitch had made and turn the damn tap off. Pulling the cord and illuminating the room with the single hanging bulb, his eyes unadjusted oversaturated. Black tile and walls, white porcelain and skin, red blood, hair and lips. Fury filled him. The clumsy whore had cracked open her skull and bled all over the room. She'd done it on purpose to piss him off, she must have known it was him and wanted one last revenge. He knew he was being irrational but he felt righteous in his anger. She deserved it. Always showing him up like that and making him look stupid then pretending badly that she didn't mean it. And the way she never listened to him and constantly disrespected him. Hell she was probably sleeping with half the faculty. They'd never have given her a second glance if he hadn't made her skinny and stopped her dressing like a dyke. Stupid slut.
The water was white noise, gushing like that. He switched it off. Hell though he could leave the tap running all day now though, he could afford it. His chuckle reverberated within the room before he realised he had let it escape.
"Right, socks, boots and deal with the sensor." the little list soothed his odd mood somewhat. Once booted he climbed out the kitchen window, a sixty something foot drop below him but a firm grasp on the crampons he'd had the 'satillite guy' fit the other day while the sensor was retro fitted with an undetectable and highly illegal wipe function and a hidden file of carefully edited together relay depicting the body heat and movements of him and Marsha watching media, eating soup and having sex before she leaves at half two in the morning. He checks his watch, it's quater to two. Loads of time. He activates the wipe and loads the relay before climbing back inside.
He makes a pot of coffee and vapes while drinking the bitter black liquid. Decent coffee was very hard to come by for most and he'd never liked Marsha enough to share his supply. Even though that ment he was stuck drinking this shit whenever he came round.
A shadow decended down the lounge window and knocked sharply. Max was here to get rid of her.
Before he'd even made it over to said window, it opened and Maxs' lanky frame folded into the room; still harnessed and wearing his trademark, ratty, mechanics overall.
"She's dead right?" he ruffled a hand through his hair, all casual like as if he did this every day. "Alister. Is she dead?"
"huh, oh yeah. She's in the bathroom. Silly cow hit her head on the way down, left a bit of red everywhere." As he said it, he realised. "Bollocks. How long have we got?"
"Jean is next door waiting to leave, I've rigged both the landing and stair camera and sensor to play Marsha leaving to that Yule party last year- Jean has a wig and dress but it's all set up to go in 15 minutes so I need to get your dead girlfriend out of here asap and you need to tidy the fuck up and go back to bed. Keswa fuck Alister we had this all planned and you're sitting on your arse drinking coffee!" It was a weird relationship between these two men. Alister was bigger, stronger and a great deal scarier than Max but somehow the wirery and bookish tech boy (who was acrually in his mid 30s') was always in control. Alister still wanted to beat the living shit out of him and teach him a lesson but he had learnt the hard way that this was a bad idea. Don't piss off anyone who can rig government sensors and monitor your every move, especially if he's helping you murder your rich girlfriend. Max had unhooked his harness and walked over to the bathroom while he'd been talking. He looked nervous. "Can you give me a hand getting her in the bag?" he pointed to the large black holdall he had slung round his chest. "I can't get her in on my own."
Alister wanted to object, he didn't want blood on his clothes. Not because of any disgust but practically, there were only so many sensors that could be rigged. Anything that was flushed down the loo or washed down the drain was noted by the sensors, so he'd have to burn his clothes on the roof along with the blood and beach soacked towels later and he didn't have another set here. He didn't protest and lifted the still
warm and slightly stick corpse of Marsha and placed her in the bag.
He's booked us a cottage in Ireland for a week over the holidays. We have thrown ourselves into romance with abandon. I only wish I had more money to buy him more gifts. I can only hope my father grants me my savings account soon and everything will be sorted. I'll have a new home, in a new town with my beau and our new friends. We could finally start working and go back into education. Live the lives we've wanted for so long but have been in no position to live.
Mood: trying not to hope too much Music: radio 4 political hour
Everything depends on the company you keep. He and I could have a blast anywhere but as we both want to get away from England and our troubles, a quick trip to a gorgeous cottage in the middle of nowhere will be very good for us both. And cheap enough not to kill the budgy.
