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Once Upon a Time, We Faded Blue

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Romanticism [Aug. 22nd, 2004|06:13 pm]
Once Upon a Time, We Faded Blue

I like doodling in notepad. It lets me take out all these horrible images out of my head. Well not horrible, just not worth thinking over too much. Especially during a headache.

So went into notepad and wrote something up.

follows a xAxA pattern. Although the rhyming needs work at times. Just put it here to sound it off.

after all that is what this board is for ^_~

Sinful Delight
Drift into memories
softly, swiftly, silent.
Sway with the gentle breeze
kissing the air with your lips.

Swish those precious hips
of yours to a teasing cock
And in slow melodramatic sips
draw me into your sights.

Bedazzle me with those eyes
so catching that poets forget
the song they need to entice
you through that slip-shodded veil.

Hook those fingers surreptious
around my neck, and nape
and make me forget my pious
vows, and god incarnate.

Oh lady luck, forgive me tonight
for I must entrust you to another.
for this extravagant sinful delight
is for me to feast on alone.
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Writers Galore? [Aug. 19th, 2004|01:15 pm]
Once Upon a Time, We Faded Blue
So I was curious as to what writers we like and admire, whether it be for their works of some other attribute. I was going to name the topic "Favorite IRL Writers," except I realized that despite not being published and whatnot, all of you are IRL writers and it's only me who is creating a virtual reality inside of my head. In the famous words of Mya, "...like wo!"

Anyway, back to the point- who are some of your favorite authors, what works of theirs do you like, and, if you'd like, share what you like about them.

Joan Didion
-i must admit, I don't like everything by Joan Didion that I read or see. I say "see" because she (co?)wrote the screenplay to "Up Close and Personal." (Am I showing my age by referring to that movie?) Nor am I particularly fond of her novels. But her journalism and personal essays are so captivating and real. It's true that her writing somewhat portrays 'la vie en rose' and that there are unnecessary words here and there, but it's all about style. And her writing is writing that isn't just for the sake of the story, but it's writing that concretely matters. And that's the kind of writing I aspire to do, at least for a bit, before I retreat to my book store (privately owned non-chain, of course), and begin to write my own novel. I really really really love her book of essays entitled "Slouching Towards Bethlehem" and my favorite essay of hers would be "Goodbye to All That," which, if you'd like, you can google and read online (much thanks to Mt. Holyoke).

Roald Dahl
-Along the lines of J.M. Barrie, Lewis Carroll (sp?), C.S. Lewis, and possibly some other non-Tolkien British fantasy writers, I particularly love how Roald Dahl manages to portray absurd or fantastic things with a sense of wonder, yet with a simple enough language that it all becomes credible. There's a lot of charm to his writing and though simple, the words are often deep. Or at least I make them deep because I want to. I particularly liked "Danny: Champion of the World," "the BFG," and "Matilda."

Neil Gaiman
-Everybody's favorite author nowadays, it seems. I do like his writing for the amount of imagination that goes into it, but his writing doesn't strike me as particularly strong writing. I just think he's a really really really cool guy with some very neat ideas. I rather like "Smoke and Mirrors" for the innovativeness and "Neverwhere" for being serious without seeming to take itself too seriously.

Charles Dickens
-The man is, contrary to popular belief, quite funny. But only if you read him in short spurts and pay close attention to the wording. Then again, I think most of his works were published bit by bit in magazines before they were published in a complete bound edition. I might be totally wrong, however. Some parts of his stories are rather insipid, the reality of his character portrayal leaves much to be desired, and yet... the stories move me and I find myself sad when it's all over. So that must mean it's good. ^^;

Bill Watterson
-"Calvin and Hobbes" is pure genius. Enough said here.

Albert Camus
-I adore this man's writing. It is sparse and does create an empty feeling, but it paradoxically feels full in itself. I feel like Camus and Hemingway have a similar aesthetic, but I find that as much as I like Hemingway, I like Camus more. Maybe it's just because I have a foreign fetish. xP My favorite work of his is "The Stranger." One work of his that I really did not like, however, is "La Chute," which is, I believe, "The Fall" in English.

Shel Silverstein
-It's cute. It rhymes. It's poetry that I can appreciate. And it's also more than slightly kooky.

Robert Frost
-Oh I know, EVERYBODY loves Robert Frost. But there's a reason for that! I'm not great at poetry, but I appreciate a simple poem much more than a fancy one, and simplistic beauty, or seemingly simplistic beauty, is Robert Frost's forte.

Some other books I liked, many whose authors I have forgotten:

"The Giver" by Lois Lowry
"The Phantom Tollbooth" by I-Forget-Who
'J'accuse!" by Emile Zola
"No Longer Human" by some Japanese dude
"Madame Bovary" by Gustave Flaubert
"Falling Leaves" by Adeline Yen Mah
"Woman Warrior" by Maxine Hong Kingston
"On the Road" by Jack Kerouac
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Once Upon a Time, We Faded Blue

[Current Mood |rejuvenatedrejuvenated]
[Current Music |ppelin - kashmir]

The date today is (checks) 2004-08-08. Isn't that just an amazing date. I mean think about it. the first digit of this year 2 and the last digit 4 are multiplied to form 8. there are two 8's in today's date. and each of those two 8's is put in the form of a two digit numeral '08'. To top it off, there are four digits in the year, which can be condensed to two 2 digit numbers which have been combined with each other to form a four digit number. Stretching it a bit, you might say, you might also say that he's gone and taken the crazy pills again. But, no. I never stopped taking them, my dear lovelies and sex-kittens.

So what does this date have to do with anything? nothing what so ever, Except maybe that Nixon resigned on this day 31 years ago.
Except maybe on this day a hundred and eighty-something years , the late great poet John Keats came back from his walking tour with friends of the nearby districts and also subsequently died almost three years from the day.

except maybe this day in the early 1910's the first newsreel was released.

So this day is somewhat famous. But who gives a shit about all that. seriously. You don't care, neither do I. Well I do, because I took the time to search the web for something to put up about this day (source: History Channel's website).

However, I digress. You all still must be wondering what exactly does this have to do with anything at all. and why the fuck are you guys still reading this pile of steaming shit that must have come from an uncircumcised Samoan donkey (Is there a circumcised Samoan donkey though? and if there is, why?), I mean that's what you are probably asking your selves at the moment.

Either that or I just insulted you using the pretext of a self-probing question upon your part.

Anyway, If any of you do not know, today is August eight of the good Gregorian calendar year of 2004. But, I've drilled that piece of useless feces into your head already.

But the real question is. Are you ready for NaNOWriMo!!!

yes, NaNoWriMo pronounced either NA NO WRY MO or Na no WREE MO. it does not matter.

If you are wondering what is NaNoWriMo, lemme just link you to the site first NaNoWriMo Which basically stands for national novel writing month. The basic goal is to put out 50k words in the month of November in the form of a novel. Plot, storyline and characters are still important but not overly so. It is just a catharsis for the writer in you.

So the question on this eight day of the eight month of the fourth year of the umpteenth millennium on this earth is, are you ready for NaNoWriMo?

If not, steel the nerves and bear the brunts of pain while chugging coffee and alcoholic beverages by the dozen into your system. For you must put this upon yourself as writers, would-be-writers and people who think they can accomplish something in life. If at the least it is to put down words on paper, or to try and get something published. Or even to relieve stress.

So come and join me in the month of November to write 50000 words or 175 pages of crap shit.

Sign up starts on October 1st, and writing starts on November 1st. deadline is November 30th.

Shall we dance the night away on the paper floor while have the scratches of pens and pencils and clicks and clacks of keyboards be our music where our emotions and stress fly away to the stars and heavens above?

I say we shall. Join me!


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A mockery of a genre [Jul. 31st, 2004|06:15 pm]
Once Upon a Time, We Faded Blue

I'm a member of the amazing community called deviantART, and i had an old poem of mine to submit which deviates from normal styles of poetry.

So, I went through the process of submitting. Which goes something like this.

Read more...Collapse )

Now if you wonder what exactly cyber poetry is, and are somewhat petrified of being ostracized for not knowing what it is, it's okay. I didn't now and looks like 99% of my literate friends don't either.

So, according to deviantART, cyber poetry's description is and I quote:

In our cyber world, many interesting takes on mixing poetry and code have sprung up. Relying on syntax, variable interaction, or other coding techniques - meaningful approaches to concepts are taken

So, after looking at the poems that have nothing what so ever to do with syntax, variable interaction, or coding structures and techniques, I decided I'd write my own. so here goes =D.

I'm going to cross post this between my journal at tygerofdanyte, and the awesome livejournal community of oncewefadedblue (cough-plug-cough), so here goes what I call

spiked categorical idiocy

If my name was
to be mentioned
while a second
dream of sustenance
was denied.

then the access
of your frames
would be tensed
through the capsized
verbosity of my view
through the thick black
framed spectacle of sight.

Do feel us to be
true of the world if
and only if my name
was uttered while dreams
of orgasmic sustenance was
perchance caught upon your

Or is that a mitigating
stream of consciousness
to be launched and lost
amongst the integral societal
of a machine that structures us
within statements and fractal
cases of lyrical loops of
dreamed syntax and then to lose
us to the world outside without
love or hate, checking up only
to see that sensuality plays itself
out with pretension of humane
indifference while being just
a computed sufferance.

So While my name is uttered by your lips
against my ear, do that slow motion of your
slick eyes against my flat slope of gained
indifference that twitches me slight to
an open loop of shudders and gasps
while bringing me on orgasms and later on
sweet dreams of broken algorithms and
existential coffee on a circuitboard.


I have been told I rock at cyber-poetry. And I believe i do =P.
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Sorrow for a kingdom [Jul. 29th, 2004|09:26 pm]
Once Upon a Time, We Faded Blue

A little balladish thing.


A jester once asked his king
the meaning of his rule
over the kingdom and all below.
Gentry, noble, citizen, and him,
the fool.

The queen looked upon the jester
and asked him to sing
and maybe dance too, hoping for
distraction for court and him,
the king.

The knight threw his eyes on the queen,
eating the king's lean.
and feasting on the queen's
fat. But the jester knew her,
the queen.

So the wise king smiled upon his knight
and mourned in tear
for he was wise, and he ignored the jest,
and cried for the queen and him,
the cavalier.

It was all a tale of the court.
The jester so wise sorrowed for his
king who was not a fool, learning
his knight's loyalty would be in question if
the queen in tear
chose whether to wade the austere moor,
or flee on her shining steed?

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two minutes, written after taking an online personality test... [Jul. 27th, 2004|01:38 pm]
Once Upon a Time, We Faded Blue
I do remember
And I now know
Many things you
Hoped I'd never know
Papercut memories
Hard to forget
And ever biting
But I'll do my best
to Love you,
Since you are.
And since I am.
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Sestina gone bad [Jul. 25th, 2004|04:38 pm]
Once Upon a Time, We Faded Blue

meh, I suppose I can post somethign.

This was my attempt at a sestina. biblical in nature kinder. so meh


When there were lovelise in the valley,
there would come to me in dreams,
things of beauty and seductive guiles.
So I did adore such pleasantries,
sweet and filling like nectar from heaven.
Until the lovelies left the valley for their nightmares.

So my haunted yearning for dreams
of glories were replaced by the yellow guiles
of insects and imps from far below our valley.
And the lovelies left me dreaming nightmares
of none to light evils, and far from pleasantries
disenchant my valley that once was my heaven.

My two lovelies filled with their evil guile
my truthful yearning for old pleasantries
and release from dreadful existant nightmare
of mine. So here I stand alone in a new heaven
that was wrongfully glaced above the dream
and thus away from my glories' valley.

A hex placed upon this build anew heaven
only if I was given back the old valley.
For my first named son and his incestuous bride did dream
of patience and virtue as nightmares
placed there by me as whiled away pleasantries
for them seemed paltry in comparison to their own guiles.

So to begin freshly my own pleasantries
I sent the thieves away from my dream,
while crying myself to dreary sleep of nightmares.
for they were my lovelies and glories of a heaven
only cast out for my own shortcomings and guile
to purgatory and death out of the valley.

Thus they were named for my true guiles,
and deceit. and I for my compassion and lordhship of heaven,
which rightfullly was theirs in the below dream
of flowers and destined pleasantries
but now they and I both lay bereft of the valley.
Only filled with late-felt remorse of paradise's nightmare.

For the valley was once heaven
and there the first two of my dreams knew not nightmare.
THere my guile snaked away their fruitful innocence and pleasantries.


I call it Sestina gone bad or JHVH's Folly.

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Welcome to Faded Blues @ LiveJournal [Jul. 17th, 2004|12:00 pm]
Once Upon a Time, We Faded Blue
[Current Mood |excitedexcited]

At precisely noon (Central Standard Time, Chicago style), we who were once Faded Blues Creations Forum have shifted over to a LiveJournal community for various reasons. And now I'd like to take a bit of time to introduce this community's purposes in an introductory post.

This is a place for creations of any sort, though the easier they are to share online, the more likely it is that your stuff will get seen. Writing, artwork, sheet music, etc. of any sort is welcome here. However, please use your discretion to protect the post from being viewed by people, such as minors, for whom you would think the material to be inappropriate. If you do not do so and I see it, I, nineleaves, will do so. That is the right I will reserve as a moderator of sorts for this community.

Also, if there's anything you really want to share about your life, go ahead! If you have any issues you'd like to discuss and/or debate, go ahead! This will hopefully be a community: a comfortable place to be who you are and to share what you will.

Finally, please do feel free to join and make introductory posts of sorts. In fact, I'd really like it if you would fill out the survey below and post it here eventually, as time allows..

The SurveyCollapse )
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Let's get this party started! [Jul. 23rd, 2004|08:10 pm]
Once Upon a Time, We Faded Blue

I've been bugging Alex to post an introduction post or something, but he won't, so I figured I'd throw something up just for the sake of having something ^^ So here's a poem I wrote based on how I used to visualise my muse, and then after that there's a vaguely creepy short... thing, that was supposed to be part of the prologue to a story idea that I think I've ditched, but I still really like the peice.


Dance with me under the pale moonlight
Close your eyes and shut out the sight
Of blood and death and human plight
Forget what's wrong, don't do what's right

Embrace my song of hopes and dreams
Push aside reality and believe what seems
To be true, for that is what makes sunbeams
And tears, true love and frightened screams

Touch my skin and feel your minds
Lose yourself within, break what binds
You, and grab the might-be that grinds
Away at the very core of your world.

I miss writing weird things like thisCollapse )
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