Christmas :3

Dunno why the pics came out so blurry, prolly jacked some setting up on my phone.

Bailey sleeping on his stuffed santa ^.^

Bracelet...

Dragonscale bracelet, using fine silver (99%)using 22awg 1/8" & 24awg 5/64" rings.

Further musings.

I sit here, listening to trance and drinking vodka and OJ, I attempt to forget the things that I have missed in my life and instead attempt to focus on the things that I have learned. Oddly enough I'm much more of an optimist than I once was, I suppose that learning you can be depressed as hell on day and then sleep it off, and be fine the next can do that to you.

As the famed film goes, 'There's always tomorrow' or something like that. I'm terrible with references. Regardless...

I find that I lack clear purpose; I suppose this is an ailment common to modern man. Maybe it's foolhardy to put all your hopes in one thing; being a masterful musician only to be one upped, an amazing writer only to be shot down. I've put all my hopes into one thing before, had it crushed, and paid a dear price for the folly. Shattered dreams are not easily healed, or rebuilt.

As I was saying, purpose. Without it we are lost. What is my purpose? I feel as if it's in some sort of strife, a chaos of frantic beat where there is not time for the slow, pondering thought of idle time but only for life or death choices made in fractions of seconds.
Yet where could one find that? I must wait, I tell myself. I want to do things that will inspire free men to greater heights, to inspire humanity to freedom and liberty...

What grand plans for such a small soul. Despite my wishes I do not think that is my destiny; to be any sort of saviour or hero. Indeed, I do not even wish for such things; I wish only for contentment, the peace of mind that comes from knowing one has served their purpose in this life, whatever it may be.

Perhaps the gods know my way, and I must strive to be patient in their service, and pray that what must be, shall be.

Camping trip

Since my camera phone hates me and uses battery power like non other, I only got a few pics, but some of them are quite nice (I think)

Three of them are of the same sunrise at different light settings, I thought it was interesting how much difference the light level makes.

http://img42.imageshack.us/gal.php?g=campingaug27001.jpg

(Imageshack link, since blogger won't let me add them all...)

Hero of Canton

Hehehe

Cunning, ain't it?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DxUZ29XOqlM

Maille examples

Third picture is soft aluminum, in a 8-1 european weave with 1/8 inch rings in 18 gauge

Second picture is my current collar. it is 5/16 inch rings in 6-1 european pattern, black stainless teel (Magnitite coating)

First picture is bronze rings, in 1/8 inch, 18 gauge in 6-1 pattern.

Pray for rain

I always liked storms. They seemed to fill the air with power; the far off rumbling of thunder, rain pattering down on the street, the wind blowing through the trees. The artillery shells hitting a few miles east of us sounded a lot like that. It brought a small, sad smile to my face.

I couldn't distinguish it from the real thunder. Sooty clouds were moving in from the west, rolling down out of the mountains. I knew that somewhere down over there people were dying; shrapnel shredding their guts, sonic blasts blowing out their eardrums. It didn't really bother me anymore, which made me doubt sometimes if it ever had in the first place. Just as long as the shells weren't falling down on me.

If there was one good thing about fighting in the middle of suburbs, it was the abundant food. Pantries stuffed with canned food, bags of sweets, salt, pepper, flour. Batteries for radios and flashlights, and always a nice couch or bed to sleep on. It was strange to think about how these homes were before the war. Full of life, blaring TV's, kids playing video games and parents sitting on the porch reading a book.

Prayers for rain were on all our lips. They'd run incendiary bombs downtown two days ago, and the unchecked fires were growing closer. That was one of the many bad parts about fighting in suburbs; it didn't matter how many comforts you had if we all burned.

I watched as the incoming winds blew the sooty stacks of smoke away from us. The sun was going down, and the glow of the fires began to emerge. The first drop of rain fell onto my head, leaving a small spot of heavy wetness.

The world moves on, even in the midst of a war like this one. People die under an uncaring sky. I saw a pickup truck with a family inside blown to pieces by a mine once. A whole family gone in an instant, and the sky was a pure, pale blue, full of fluffy clouds. It was a beautiful day.

And yet the guy next to me prayed for their souls that night. I didn't say anything to him; why bother? If there is a god up there somewhere, i hope he sends me to hell. I'll probably like the company better.

I don't want this life!

I can't find the meaning in anything I do anymore. Used to be I didn't need a reason. I didn't even think to look for one. I miss those days. They were simpler. Ignorance truly is bliss.

But now? Now I am haunted. Haunted by the need for something more. Something to give my life some purpose beyond living for the next day.

I hate this. I don't want to go to a job every day that I hate just so I can have some fucking money for some fucking shiny toys that don't even help me. Just distractions. I don't want my life to become my job. I don't want to be like every fucking person around me!

And yet I envy them. I envy them for the fact that they are distracted by the meaningless, fleeting things of life. I envy their ignorance. I envy their love. I envy their material possessions.
How can you despise something and yet envy it at the same time?

I want love, I want wealth, I want power...
But above all those things I want PURPOSE. I want a fucking reason to live! Because without purpose, love, wealth, power... they are all meaningless.

Just give me a reason to live.

I am losing hope again. I am so, so very tired of living just for the vain hope that something will happen, something will change to make everything better, to make it all bearable, to give everything clarity. Because I am beginning to doubt that that will ever happen.

I can't take this waiting. And yet I do. Endlessly, I do.
Am I just afraid to die? Is fear of death the only thing that keeps my alive? Probably.
And yet death is it's own relief. No more of this insane inanity. I want to escape. I want to rest. To sleep. But more than that I want a reason to live.

That's all I ask for. Just some reason to get up every day, over and over.
People tell me to live just for the experience of living. It's not enough. It only lasts so long. After that, it fades again.

I don't know why I'm alive. And it eats me from the inside out. Just please give me a reason to live. Please.

Spring

Spring burns,
Fire in the blood.
Old sounds call,
Waking the ancient soul.

It gropes for clear air,
Clearer conscience.
Simplicity of survival,
Harsh truth of the untamed.

Firelight dancing shadows,
Moonlights frail bones.
Stripped of the inane,
Down to a crows laugh.

Spring burns,
Turning my blood.
Old sounds call,
Straining my chains.

Forlorn hopes

I wish to retreat to the safety of a fantasy world where survival is clear cut and living is an obvious choice. I wish to seek solitude and thus peace. I wish to fuck myself brainless and spend the rest of the day laying in a pool of bodily fluids.

I wish for many things that shall never be true.

My birthday is one week from now and I feel that it shall be wasted. A year ago this time I was ready to kill myself. Now I don't know what I'm ready for. Maybe nothing. Things have changed, as they always tend to do.

I still get the urge to end this inanity but I resist, waiting for something more. Waiting to find some reason and meaning in my life that will give me purpose. I want conflict, I want terror, I want horror. Doubtless I will regret these words if the day shall ever come.

I don't know how I made it this far. Hope, that indestructible and yet almost ethereal thing that ties me to this world. Is it wrong that I hope the future holds destruction? Do I care? No. I just want something to live for.

And if that conflict should tear at last that string of hope, then I shall feel great relief at finally being able to end my life without the burdens of conscience I now hold, and at last this futile struggle will be at an end.

I just want a reason to live.

Mosslight.

I deleted my old blog. It was no longer an apt representation of who, or what, I am.

I was sitting in the bath and the word 'Mosslight' came to me. I thought it was pretty. Like Cellar Door. I think I first heard that from Donnie Darko. His teacher tells him that one of the most beautiful combinations of words in the English language is 'Cellar Door'. I like Mosslight.

After my shower I went outside and had a cigarette. It has been raining and drizzling all day long; it is now 1:59 AM MST. The rain is extremely peaceful to me. I sucked in the cigarette smoke, full of poisons and chemicals. I fully accept what is in it, government propaganda aside. You can literally feel the harsh smoke burn away your lungs, even as the sickly-sweet addiction works it's effect on the brain.

This world is grey.
Let me explain.

The moist, cold air was sweet. Cleansing. But it was that very air that fueled the cigarette as it burned, picking up chemicals as it traveled down the paper tube, through the filter, and deep into my lungs.

The sounds of the rain hitting the wood deck were peaceful, but off in the distance sirens wailed. In my minds eye I could see the police cars rolling down the wet asphalt, their black tires shiny and slick, the streetlights reflecting off of the beads of water on their windshields.

This world is a grey one, and no matter how hard one might try, nothing is purely black or white. That is from where my frustration stems, my pain, my sickness, my desperation. But also my hope, my joy, my life.

I find the sun's light harsh and unforgiving. But every now and then my body yearns for it's bright rays. I am not all good. But I am not all bad. Nobody is.