age: 29 (Aug 27, 1982)
MEMBER SINCE: September 2005
occupation: Musician/English Major
heroes: None
stats: 6'2", 170 pounds, blue eyes, long dirty blonde hair, and lanky. argh.
crush: None
i lost my virginity: when i was sixteen, to a girl who was once my best friend.
fantasy: negotiable upon purchase.
body mods: None. Sorry. But i do have a horseshoe-shaped scar on my head where i had to get five stitches when i was five because a horseshoe cracked my skull open. That was funny.
makes me sad: when my friends don't talk to me, seeing movie stars with no talent become musicians, seeing musicians with talent doing nothing, the amount of reality TV on television, the meaningless loss of human life and the shepherding of people into consumer culture.
into: Music, poetry, foreign films, comics, anime, manga, literature, history, mythology, art and girls with a personality for christ's sake
sign: Virgo(Western), Dog(Chinese)
most humbling moment: i'm pretty humble most of the time.
inspiration has struck so i must be off, but i leave you with a poem that was written in the span of four days - the first two lines came to me as i lay to sleep one night.... maybe you can help me with a title for it.....
(UNTITLED)
by Gustuf Young
Another heart is failing
in the kingdom of the dead -
minds gone stone, oblivious -
a trail of feeble bodies.
A sudden mist most poisonous
is riding on the air,
the emptiness so serious
is humming in dead ears.
Silent buildings reminesce
of days whence their halls pulsed -
their memories in solid states -
the useless tools of Man.
Grasslands weep with dust, despair, some
depressed pollens clouding -
a thoughtless fog is spreading
in this world made cemetary.
Metal corpses lie about
with no will left to run,
their lifes used up in exhaust fumes -
their masters dead and gone.
Heavens black with sediment,
clouds of volcanic glass -
the sky like crude upon the tide,
a serpent film now soaring.
A few hungry survivors
spout groans within the sigh,
the death rattle of Earth and
the comfortless cold breeze.
So now they roam the freeways, and
the former gates to cities,
now littered with the fleeting -
those who failed in their departure.
Deep and subterreanean,
the catacombs of sewers -
are filled with those in darkness
who shall live beyond the ending.
The roaches, rats will surface
and will feast upon our ruin -
perhaps in ages they will
learn to rise above their crawling.
Lost deep within the color gray,
a million years of culture -
merchandise now fossilized
under an ashen banner.
The trees now weep with leaves
decayed, their arms gone black with torment,
yet seeds in falling wait patient
for graveyard rains fulfilling.
With all humans...
Its kinda weird when our creativity hits us.....usually when we should be doing somthing really important
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