Anime/Manga Nerd

[x] You watch anime.
[ ] You read manga.
[ ] You buy/collect anime DVDs or manga volumes
[ ] You own some other form of anime/manga merchandise.(Its a tin of mints, and its awesome)
[ ] You have referred to an anime character as 'hot' before.
[x] You have cosplayed.
[x] You have done so in public.
[x] You have been to an anime/manga convention.
[ ] You have created/joined a fanclub for an anime/manga character.
[ ] You have created/joined a hateclub for an anime/manga character.
[ ] You have squealed when you found out somebody had the same name as an anime character you knew.
[ ] You enjoy drawing anime.
[ ] People know you as the 'anime' person.
[ ] You know that it is pronounced 'mawnguh' and not 'manga' like it is spelled.

Anime/manga nerd: 4/14


ART NERD

[x] You like art.
[x] You actually consider yourself an artist.
[x] When using art supplies, the brand of them matters to you.
[ ] You have a favorite brand.
[x] You have asked for art supplies as a Christmas/birthday gift before.
[x] You give people your drawings as gifts.
[x] People actually ask for your drawings.
[x] You are/were known as 'the art person' at your school.
[ ] Instead of just 'brown' or ' pink', you'd be specific; it's 'sienna brown' or 'blush pink'.
[ ] You have taken an art class outside of school.
[x] You have considered a career as an artist.
[x] Your school papers are always covered in doodles.
[x] You have a favorite artist.
[x] Your drawings have been framed.
[x] You carry a sketchbook with you everywhere you go.

Art nerd: 12/15


MUSICAL NERD

[x] You play a musical instrument.
[x] You play more than one instrument.
[x] You actually really enjoy playing your instrument.
[ ] You've given your instrument a name.
[x] You've participated in an extracurricular activity for your instrument.
[ ] You are known by what you play.
[x] You listen to classical music.
[x] You are wondering whether that refers to the classical music genre or the classical music time period.
[x] You have a favorite composer.
[ ] All of your friends are from your band/orchestra class.
[x] You write music.
[x] You've had discussions with your friends about music; your favorite composers/instruments/musical time periods/key/etc...
[x] You have considered a professional career with your instrument.
[ ] You are never nervous playing for other people.

Musical nerd: 10/14


VIDEO GAME NERD

[x] You play video games.
[ ] You own more than 4 different video game systems.
[x] You've had debates over which system is the greatest.
[ ] You play video games every day.
[x] You have played a video game for over 10 hours.
[x] You have songs from your favorite video games on your MP3/iPod
[ ] You love to talk about video games.
[ ] You memorize the dates for when a new game is being released.
[ ] People know you as the 'gamer' person.
[x] You spend more time on video games than you do hanging out with friends.
[ ] Your gaming system is in your room, not counting portable things like a DS
[x] You have preferences when it comes to what company your game came from.
[x] You've had debates over which company is the best.
[x] You keep playing a game until you beat it.
[ ] It makes you angry when you found out somebody looked up cheat codes on the internet to beat their game.

Video game nerd: 8/15

yeah, art nerd. woot.

IN OTHER NEWS! I'd like to with a very awesome 21st birthday to my long time compadre Happy birthday, I will see you tonight!

Yes dear reader, today I saw the bearded woman, I saw her traipsing down the trampled city streets each hand holding a bag so tight I thought her hands were going to fall off, as her knuckles turned white from holding those bags. Her body swayed and her breasts swayed pendulous triumphant under a multicoloured shirt of taut Lycra. Yes they swung keeping perfect time with her pachyderm walk down the trampled streets of the city, as she traipsed to whichever place bearded women walk to.

And from her hillock chin sprouted hair like a field of cane; long and proud and lean, catching the midday sun off their wire thin stalks. Yes, today I saw the bearded woman.
I caught the glimpse off a solitary tooth; like an ivory gravestone from her graveyard mouth as she traipsed down the trampled city streets through the midday sun and her pendulous breasts swung with perfect time following her pachyderm walk, visible as shapes through the thin skin of her taut shirt made of man-fiber, of rainbow spewn dream fiber, of Lycra.

Yes I watched the bearded woman, as she traipsed through the curlicue wandering crowd and watched as she disappeared with her hillock chin and Dali-esque breasts in the beating midday sun, shining down through the lace hole bows of the cities great and mighty buildings; silent sentinels and rock faced remnants of a past age, as I traipsed down the century trampled streets.

The iconic song by The Doors (though not known as well as their others) I find has been completely RAPED by another band.
I'm not against doing covers at all, but....do shit you can do.
Amy Lee; yeah you're cool but...Jim Morrison you are not.

[link]
Just....no. SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING AMY LEE?! GTFO! NOT WITH THIS SONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Why do bands feel they can cover other bands they just cant pull off??? You cant cover the Pumpkins at all; unless you are the Pumpkins (or Billy Corgan) and you CANNOT EVER EVER EVER EVER cover The Doors, unless you are a drug fucked, BARITONE Thespian/film maker turned singer/poet. EVER JUST NO!!! (I shake my fist at thee!!!!(

This is why I prefer originals.

And not why I disagree with the song.

Here I am again, crossing the line between sobriety and the abyss. Somewhere in my system is a vicious cocktail of lithium and wine, fueling the engine of me that is currently running of hatred and anger and confusion and depression.

It’s like adding a nullifier to a blaze; water to the fire. I don’t feel anything but the cocktail. Half way through the bottle.
Nirvana is playing over my speakers; I’ve taken an interest in Kurt Cobain recently for some reason, I cant explain why. I’ve listened to them for ages but; never really taken the time to understand the behind the scenes workings of this musician.

I do have to admit that I agree with some of his views; though I doubt I’ll be found with a shotgun blast in my head.

I don’t own a gun.

There has been a strange occurring sensation lately; the desire to write and the inspiration to do so. This fairy has floated throughout my brainwave rivers lately in a dream-state manner forcing me to write things; shoving ideas in my brain. Lines that I cannot condemn or ignore.

I’m More than halfway through the bottle. The whispering wind outside is creating a strange mood that I cannot explain. Silence but for the yearning, breaking, groaning sound of my own hunger; should I eat? Should I face that demon of effort and force myself to the kitchen in order to satiate my own desire? Or should I remain here, typing and listening to the wind rustle the trees in a way that reminds me of the ocean…timeless, inescapable, whistling and whispering in golden nouns, throwing me dischord and displeasure at every defining rustle against trees?

Yes, I shall get food. But soon. Not now, but soon.

This mythical cocktail has begun to take an affect upon me; it took 3 quarters of the bottle, but yes it is having an effect. Everything seems so much more alive, the taste and smell of wine is intoxicating by itself. The lines outside my fingers more vibrant; the space between objects seems so much more real.

Maybe I’m tired.

Maybe not.

I’m back, after braving the kitchen.
Glass was strewn on the floor like teeth from a Cyclops ; a reminder of my fathers wrath on any and every inanimate object. I hate this house.
I hate living here with a burning passion; I fear my father’s issues have spread to the rest of the family and caused other problems. It certainly isn’t helping my depression by any margin.

Another glass of wine for the poetic soul.
Another hour of loneliness.
Left awake at God-shamed hours.
Eating a meal from a can, drinking wine without a label
Baring my heart to an apathetic world.
In the brief, twilight hours before dawn cracks over the horizon
Like bright angels wing, full of fury and desire;
Forcing the night back into its chamber.
Forcing the dark into its recession.

I shall recede into the land of sleep soon;
That cushioned safe-land of rest and respite from the waking world.

As Edgar Allan Poe once said “All we see or seem is but a dream within a dream”
Whilst the globe spun ever forward; an unsympathetic ball of wants and “me’s” depending on it’s petty creature squabbles to keep the entertainment as it claps it’s gloved hands and paints its once beautiful syphilitic face in white pancake.

Ah yes, that trap. That old world charm that carries through the modern age with haughty abandon; forcing the new to understand the old yet shake its head at it’s ideals; its beauty, its wants, its desires, its pulse. Leaving it stranded upon a desert isle demanding tribute for being its new comer.

Alas, alas we are the lost, the burnt, the broken; the damned. The new generation of self righteous fools governed by a cellulite God.
Our scripture not on paper but in frames of digital envy.
How we wish to touch them, to be as them; these new Gods; unknowing and unwitting and undeserving of praise and devotion. Much like the old God’s really. Just a little less deserving.

How their disciples have spawned a generation of self serving swine ; ‘we want what we want. We deserve it. Fuck you all. If you give us a moment of compassion; we’ll take you’re life and sup on the blood as politicians and lawyers do and toss your empty corpse to the pile named ‘comfort’ and desire to have you in our midst’s as slaves and rest our laurels upon the hollowed shell’s of your beings. Our way is not hypocrisy but a way of truth and justice for ourselves. For the way we see is the right way. Cross ye into our dark and forever lost to us are ye.”

Fuck people.

Goddamn this cocktail is great.
Goddamn I write a lot.
Just..Goddamn.

My senses have seemingly grown intense; I can taste the alcohol content in the wine. It is hideous.
I’m just glad (or am i?) that I don’t regress into that state that I have experienced once of being a lizard. That was odd.

Just…Goddamn.

I have a question for all you artistic types, in particular poetic types.

What's your method for creating, how does it come to you that divine moment of inspiration when you create something?

Do you plot what you want to do?

Simply put pen to paper and see what happens?

Or does something spark it?

My method is along the lines of a line appearing in my head, more often than not out of the blue, and then i tend to write for it, that line inspires me.

Am I odd or is this common?