Thoughts of a fake gypsy

Writer's Block: Quarantine Etiquette

2008-12-16T02:46:20Z

The holiday season happens to overlap with cold and flu season (and not just the bottle flu). When you get sick, do you go to work or school anyway, or do you stay home to avoid spreading your germs?

View 500 Answers

I go out. I don't take a sick day unless I have a fever or am throwing up.

Writer's Block: Coast Range

2008-12-12T03:44:06Z

If you had to choose, would you rather live in the mountains or by the ocean?

View 501 Answers

The Ocean. No contest

Writer's Block: The Wrath of Ohrwurm

2008-11-27T02:48:19Z

German has a word for everything, like ohrwurm. Translated literally as "earworm" in English, it's the word for songs that get stuck in your head and won't go away. What earworm of a song do you most dread burrowing into your head?

Submitted By willard41

View 500 Answers

I abhore getting the song "I Kissed a Girl" stuck in my head. The worst part is my friends know this and consistantly try to put it there!

if only

2008-09-19T01:12:01Z

If only i was brave enough
to wear something a little bit different
if only i was brave enough
to talk to someone i don't know
if only i was timid enough
to keep quiet about my beliefs
if only i was timid enough
to not yell at people
if only i was nice enough
to hold the door for the old lady
if only i was nice enough
to give my change to the beggar
if only i was cruel enough
to put society first, instead of people
if only i was cruel enough
to focus on myself
if only i was sensitive enough
to know when to stop
if only i was sensitive enough
to feel if someone's hurting
if only i was harsh enough
to never feel guilt
if only i was harsh enough
to not cry in movies
if only
if only
if only

Writer's Block: Greenery

2008-09-16T00:52:33Z

Today in 1971, Greenpeace was founded. How are you helping to keep your section of Earth green these days?

View 500 Answers

I'm afraid I don't do as much as I should. Just recycling is all.

ethereal_hate @ 2008-09-12T21:28:00

2008-09-13T03:28:28Z

By definition, a government has no conscience. Sometimes it has a policy, but nothing more. Albert Calmus

Country. Country. Country. The words run through my head as I leave the airport. Always put country first. Never question the rules. Know the plan and don’t stray from it. And I don’t, I never do. I am the best, the elite, the nightmare children never have because my existence is fable, even to those who know of me. I am X, the answer to every equation, the easy way out. These are dangerous concepts, the kind of thoughts that lead to treason. I have no time for independent thinking; I have a plan and I must stick to it.

I check my watch; it is perfectly configured to everyone else’s watch in my unit. She, no, not she, “she” is too human. Another rule, The Target is never human. The Target is a spontaneous person and either by chance or design this makes my job infinitely more difficult. Intel says It is at the river bazaar. This is good. I can conduct some preliminary research. I like this part the least. This is the hardest time to keep my distance, to keep thinking of The Target as a faceless enemy, and not as a real person. The Target picks up some spices, smells them, and starts to barter over price. It moves on to look at some brightly colored scarves. Rain starts; The Target pays for the rainbow scarf quickly, ties the scarf over Its brilliant red hair, and jogs for a café. I hate cafes. They are too private to blend in and too public to disappear. That’s not to say I have never killed someone in a coffee shop; it’s just such a hassle. After The Target orders I step up to do the same. I buy just a simple black coffee, nothing too noticeable or ostentatious. I fumble through my wallet to find the correct currency. The Czech Koruna is not commonly used so it is probably hiding somewhere deep. The Target looks at me, first puzzled, then determined. It starts to walk toward me. Inwardly I begin to panic. Communication with The Target is strictly prohibited.

“Do you need help? Money?” It asks. I close my eyes in horror. What to say?

“No. I am fine.” My reply is short, bordering on rude. I speak the language gruffly, but with no accent. I’ve been doing this for a long time. Where is my money?

“I can pay for that, your coffee. Just sit down with me and we’ll talk. You seem lost.” Her, Its words are soft, kind, sweet.

“I know exactly where I am.” Another swift response from me. The Target smiles knowingly.

“That’s not what I meant.” Thankfully I find my money behind some old Francs, no longer in circulation. She looks momentarily confused, and then she seems to mentally shrug her shoulders and forget. “Please, just come talk with me. I promise not to pressure you.”

Strangely, I find myself longing to follow this odd young woman, to understand why I have to kill her. To know what she did to deserve death from my hands.
“No thank you. I am busy and have some work that I must complete.” My coffee is finished and I go sit down, alone. She goes off to find someone else to talk with. She finds someone swiftly, a young man. I am filled with an irrational jealousy. Her eyes look to me every once in a while. I wish to go sit with her, to laugh with her, to see her smile at me again. I shake my head angrily.

She leaves in an hour and a half, walking swiftly in the paling light. During the time I sat in the café, I reassured myself that no matter how innocent and pure The Target appeared she, It was evil. My job is to destroy danger to my country and my government. Therefore, It must die. It is dark out now, The Target turns down an unlit street. I pull out my gun and silencer, screwing them together swiftly. The Target never sees me. I undo my gun and silencer, putting them both back in my bag inaudibly. I hear my voice call out to her. She stops, looks back, and gasps in horror. I spin around and see another man like myself smirking at us with a gun. Two pops.

It's interesting.

2008-09-13T03:20:00Z

1. Are you currently in a serious relationship?
A:

2. What was your dream growing up?
A:

3. What talent do you wish you had?
A:

4. If I bought you a drink, what would it be?
A:

5. Favorite vegetable?
A:

6. What was the last book you read?
A:

7. What zodiac sign are you?
A:

8. Any tattoos and/or piercings? Explain where.
A:

9. Worst habit?
A:

10. If you saw me walking down the street, would you offer me a ride?
A:

11. What is your favorite sport?
A:

12. Do you have a negative or optimistic attitude?
A:

13. What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me?
A:

14. Worst thing to ever happen to you?
A:

15. Tell me one weird fact about you?
A:

16. Do you have any pets?
A:

17. What if I showed up at your house unexpectedly?
A:

18. What was your first impression of me?
A:

19. Do you think clowns are cute or scary?
A:

20. If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be?
A:

21. Would you be my crime partner or my conscience?
A:

22. What color eyes do you have?
A:

23. Ever been arrested?
A:

24. Bottle or can soda?
A:

25. If you won $10,000 today, what would you do with it.
A:

26. What's your favorite place to hang at?
A:

27. Do you believe in ghosts?
A:

28. Favorite thing to do in your spare time?
A:

29. Do you swear a lot?
A:

30. Biggest pet peeve?
A:

31. In one word, how would you describe yourself?
A:

32. Do you believe in/appreciate romance?
A:

33. Do you believe in God?
A:

34. Will you repost this so I can fill it out for you?
A:

Writer's Block: The Expendable Sense(s)

2008-09-01T21:39:30Z

If you had to give up one of your five senses, which could you live without?

Submitted By newbiepoet

View 500 Answers

Obviously I am using sight to type this, which means I can't give this up. Seeing mountains, the ocean, my friends and family, flowers, people, rivers, paintings, photographs. The beauty seen in everyday life is reason enough not to give up sight. The ugly things are another reason not to give up sight. Seeing horrid things makes me want to change them.

Sound. Can I give up music? The sound of laughter? Voices? I am not strong enough to live the rest of my life in silence, final answer.

Fleece against my skin. Rain beating on my face. The heat of a fire against my side. Arms around me comforting. How can I live without these?

I can tell whose house I am in by the smell of the air. Without smell I would have to live without the scent of rain, incense, new tires, hardware stores, pine trees, ocean breeze, perfume, cologne, home-made meals, lakes, and innumerable other things which I adore.

I am a very picky eater. Yes I would live without the taste of anything, but it is not as important as the first four to me.

Writer's Block: Feeling Better

2008-07-29T04:36:34Z

What makes you feel better when you're mad?

Submitted By kimmayeisblack

View 500 Answers

Really loud, angry, head-banger music. Every time. And working out helps quite a bit, relieves tension, makes you feel good!

Pigeons

2008-07-21T05:27:27Z

If thinking everyone deserves life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness regardless of skin color, wealth, or if their parents want them makes me a crazy liberal, then I am.

If thinking people should work for their livlihood instead of the government giving it to them makes me a close minded conservative, then I am.

If thinking change, diversity, and acceptance are good things makes me a free-love hippy, then I am.

If thinking we should fight wars to give others freedom and ourselves safety makes me a bloodthirsty hate-monger, then I am.

If thinking ignorance is a disease that needs to be cured and not by the government makes me a high-thinking aristocrat, then I am.

If thinking people are more important than whales and the environment makes me polluting white-trash, then I am.

Since these are all true, I suppose that makes me a crazy, close minded, free-love, bloodthirsty, high- thinking, polluting, liberalconservativehippyhate-mongeraristocratwhite-trash. Say that ten times fast.

I don't fit in a pigeon hole.

This is disgusting

2008-07-20T02:53:56Z

As I was searching through lj looking for communities with common interests, I typed in Ireland. One community was for pro-white nationalism. I was thoroughly horrified.
Of course I have seen the Law and Orders that show Nazism alive and well, but I considered it just tv imagination. Alas, I was wrong.
This discovery makes me think back to dinner with my extended family. More than once, it was mentioned how Obama was the anti-Christ (this goes to show that a lot of generalizations about white, christian, middle class families are more true then I want to admit. And to think I have difficulty with God...). And while visiting my Great Aunt and Uncle, my uncle mentioned how hard it must be to live in a community with many hispanics (and people truly from Spain, which I suppose makes them spanish. Forgive my ignorance). I readily assured him that I didn't find it difficult at all. In fact, I hardly noticed the diversity except that it brought more to the table (like better Thai and Indian food). But to get back to the Obama thing, I told my family (maybe I should have held my tongue, but Dear Lord they are exasperating) that while I severely dislike Senator Obama's political, social, and economical ideas, it was not because of his color or his upbringing (I actually feel bad for the guy. Everyone deserves a father).
Maybe I'm idealistic, naive, and absurd, but I thought we celebrated that day in January because of MLK Jr.'s fantastic job at bringing forth equality. Didn't we fight multiple wars for this?
It

Nicknames

2008-05-22T01:05:24Z

Bob, yes Bob, is my nickname.
You see, when I was in fifth grade I went to my friends Bible study and was wearing a hand-me-down shirt from my oldest brother. This shirt had a giant smiley face on the front and said "Microsoft Bob. Have a nice computer" on the back. I wear glasses and smile a lot. The name just stuck, some of my friends don't even remember my real name and call me Bob.

I Am

2008-05-03T01:41:36Z

I Am

Curiosity epitomized
Books read
Knowledge wanted
Stories heard
Stories told
Friendships gathered
Travel craved
Journeys made
Inside mind
Mountains climbed
Both kinds
Lessons grasped

How come?

2008-04-27T18:32:47Z

You hear your neighbor’s shouts and screams

The sound of banging and cries

But

You do nothing

It isn’t your place.

You see the crippled old veteran begging for food

The sight of the little family hungry

But

You do nothing

It isn’t your place.

You watch as the news brings you horrid shots

The ten-seconds of sadness around the world

But

You do nothing

It isn’t your place.

You know suffering is all around and children die every day

The world is full of the pain of others

Why

Do we do nothing?

It is our place.

Writer's Block: Almost Famous

2008-04-21T18:02:13Z

I don't want to be famous in the conventional way. No, I want my fame to be the kind that children learn about in their history books. However, I am not entirely sure where I want my fame to come from. Maybe being a politician, a writer (though that's not very likely), or just travelling and learning.

Writer's Block: I Left My Heart in...

2008-04-12T19:45:01Z

I love the mountains in the east. The small spattering of snow upon them. The giant light blue sky above the mountain range with just one or two small creamy clouds and the moon hanging half invisible like a silver shadow.

I love the cars that race late at night. I may not be able to see their shiny paint, brand name logos, or neon lights that flash beneath them. I may not be able to smell the gasoline exuded from their high-quality exhaust and wide mouthed mufflers. I can, however, hear those same mufflers, feel the pounding music, and see the tire marks in the morning.

I love the morning and evening sun. The sun that peeks above those mountains in the morning, lending its golden glow to the city. The sun that sends shimmers of pink, orange, and purple late at night, slowly engulfing the town in darkness.

I love the lights. Their calming serenity washes away a difficult day by just being in my sight. Those same lights that induce me to think also force me to relax.

But what I love most about home is going back.

Seasonal Haikus

2008-04-02T02:09:27Z

Twin spotted fawns lie
Down in our green, grassy yard
Hares bound across the street.

Spring Meadow, swimming
Cool water envelops me
Seaweed grows down deep.

Mudslinging appears
Time to pick a candidate
Who will represent?

Snowflakes falling home
They land upon my fingers
Mountains reflect light.

The Lonely Mountain

2008-01-20T23:31:42Z

With a voice not heard,

Since days gone-by,

A mountain tells its life.

It’s voice sweet,

Like the song of a bird.

It has seen men die,

From gun, sword and knife.

It knows some men eat,

While others starve.

This poor mountain,

Cries with unseen tears,

For past lives lost.

It decides to carve,

A new history, not what has been,

To block the noises in it’s ears.

But what will this cost?

Personification of Memory

2007-12-13T02:59:02Z

I watch the sea as it remembers,

Days gone by, a flickering ember.

I see the land shown by the moon,

Past battles, a cold empty tomb.

I hear the stars as they remind me.

All they have in common, memory.

Insanity

2007-12-04T02:50:14Z

A soft voice croons from deep within the dark home. Over and over again it speaks, whispering secrets and great things in your ears. Until eventually, you start to move forward. Your feet sliding, stepping smoothly over the hard, uneven ground. This place is evil, you know it, all know. Anyone can tell. One can feel it in the very essence of the air around you. Evil. It permeates, saturates and soaks everything. But the voice is kind, soft and wise. When you hear it you feel fulfilled. Gone is the empty space inside you, instead you are filled with warmth. Down the long, gloomy hallway you walk. It is now that you notice something wrong. With each step, horror presses in. Onward, farther still. Now you have gone so far if you were to look back, the light from the door would be invisible. Now evil is closing in on you. You start to run- it comes closer moving faster, faster. You move forward, sprinting now, adrenaline coursing through you. Your heart is thrump-thrum...thrumping in your chest. Still you run, still it chases you. Years, decades pass. Still, you run.

Wow...

2007-11-29T04:16:42Z

So, as I look through my entries I realized something revolutionary. I kinda sound depressed and angry at the world. Just want to clarify to the (non-existent) people who read this I'm not really. This journal is just a vent to drop all my frustration, pain and p.m.s-ing. Well, glad I got that of my chest. No, I mean that... seriously.

Ciao,

Your devoted non-emo emo writer.

ethereal_hate @ 2007-11-28T21:08:00

2007-11-29T04:10:00Z

Darkness.
Its sufficating
But I can't live without it.
Darkness.
It gives me what I need.
Control.
Power.
Anger.
Hate.
Pain.
Darkness.
It makes me feel alive.
I can feel it moving,
Exploring,
Growing.
Darkness.
I will succumb.

ethereal_hate @ 2007-11-18T21:20:00

2007-11-19T04:20:46Z

The cold of the early morning was seeping through my light jacket and the newspaper stuffed inside it for insallation. It was nothing compared to the coldness of my heart and soul. The soft whispers of the wind forced me to think of the whispers of my family. They thought I would come to nothing. How wrong they were. I came to be more than them. I am more intelligent, richer, prettier and just fucking better than them. They're just jealous. They don't understand me. They tried to get me to see a doctor, to live in a "home". I know what they're trying to do. They want to stifle me. But I know better. I'm not sick or weird or.... or crazy! I'm fine. I'm perfect. Perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect teeeth and nails. It's them that are ugly and stupid. Looking at me condescendingly from they're big, ugly houses. What do they know? They just can't handle that I'm the best. Those same people found me later. Dead, with my shopping cart. They weren't even sad. Well fuck them.

ethereal_hate @ 2007-11-11T13:24:00

2007-11-11T20:31:27Z

The dark dragon sits,

High upon his ledge.

He watches the people

Walk by, above them

All, but alone. Where

He perches, he is

Safe, from all the

Petty fears of man.

His black heart feels

No pain, loneliness or

Fear. The dragon peers

Through their façade so

Effortlessly. He sees all

Their hopes and dreams.

Their disappointed childish fantasies

How upset they are

Over little things. The

Wash machine no longer

Works, their make-up

Has faded., The new

Boss dislikes me, do

I smell bad? He

Laughs at them with

Disdain and thinks to

Himself, “How lucky I

Am to be free

Of such trivialities. I

Am their superior for

I know the secret.

Not to happiness, but

How not to be.”

Tears of the heart

2007-11-10T03:42:35Z

With great force,
Her heart cracks.
She sees his hands, coarse,
Splayed on another.

With tears pouring,
She runs from the room.
Her lover's moans boring,
Deep into her shattered heart.

With crushed dreams,
The knife slides smoothly.
Blood mixes with her skin of creams,
An anguished cry breaks the silence.

With deep regret,
The lover reads the note.
For her life he is in debt,
But to another he gives his heart.