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Kyvinn
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Name: Brian
Country: United States
State: Ohio
Metro: Dayton
Birthday: 11/12/1987
Interests: God, Books, Writing, Creating,
Manipulating, Storytelling
Originality, Observing people,
Being a Loyal Freind, Writing,
Fiction, Poetry, Plays, Music of all sorts,
(movies) Mr. Smith Goes to Washington,
China (with Jet Li), House of Flying Daggers,
BBC's Chronicles of Narnia,
Batman Begins, Starwars (all), Hide and Seek
The Phantom Tollbooth,
Wings of Dawn, The Picture of Dorian Grey,
the Decay of Lying,The Redwall series,
The Hobbit, The Arcon Conspiracy,
I Jedi, Heir of the Empire,
The Foundation series by Isaac Asimov,
Ender's Game, Ender's Shadow,
The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis, The Hideous Strength, Perelandra, A Wrinkle In Time, Eye of the World
Expertise: *(Jack of all trades master of none)*
Occupation: IT Lab Assistant, Student, Car
Message: message me
AIM:  bzx18
Member Since:
12/28/2005
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| We came over the lush green hedges on our floating undulating green magic carpets. I and my spouse were very aged. She was dressed all in white with a fur shawl around her shoulders. We stepped into the black limousine. Her dangling pearl earrings caught some invisible light. They sparkled.
As we drove along in silence the scenes from the window flashing by in a blur of clean color, she turned to me and said, "I may die of a foot attack." I looked at her with concern.
"A foot attack?"
"Yes, at anytime, now take one of my earrings to remember me by." I took it not questioning her further. by the end of the car ride she sat still her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling of the vehicle, moth slightly open white teeth softly shimmering between scarlet lips.
I quickly got her to the hospital and then this voice seemed to echo all around me as I sat her on the hospital bed. It said: "Six days passed, her condition worsened."
The room seemed to change it felt cooler and the hospital window was open it was sunset.
The voice spoke again, "Ten days have passed, her senses are greatly heightened, she can distinguish birds by the rapid beating patterns of their hearts."
She died as I fell asleep beside her hospital bed/I woke up.
I thought to myself, What a weird dream! And I laughed, She could distinguish birds by the beating of their hearts? Foot attack?! At the time though it seemed like such a serious and sad dream. I am now laughing.
Hehehe.
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| Engage with me, let your eyes seep into the page as ink, let me speak to you, be with you. Let your eyes be wed to the page, till death doth we part. Start, and cease only when the words have run out of paper. The story can only dwell with you for so long. The medium, be it pixels, air, ink or graphite is the strength for which the words cling to life. When the story ends the strength of the medium wanes again. Or vice versa.
There are those times, those stories that you read and there are many questions that flow from you and follow the characters, places, and things beyond the final pages. You wonder, what happened beyond the time line spoken of in the book, you don't want it to end because you know the story isn't over and you're being left out of the future act upon the fantastical stage.
Yet and still as often as not, stories, tales, historical recounts, have a start and conclusion. However many stories branch and sprout forth from it's wending path there is an end whether satisfactory or not. The more I look and listen, the more I find that the words we bear witness to don't just fade away at the end of their stay in our immediate focus but if we engage and understand; the words we witness, are words, dangerous, hideous, beautiful and effectual, things that last for life.
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| Once upon a time in New York City there was a little man by the name of Albert. Everyday he would walk out of his apartment to his mailbox and find it empty. One day he had enough and broke into his neighbors mailboxes stealing their mail and hiding it under his mattress.
Once upon a time there was a girl named Trixie (I don't know what her parents were thinking either). She went out to get her mail, only to see a evil little troll smashing her mailbox and devouring her mail with an animal like hunger...or maybe it wasn't a troll, maybe it was someone who never got any mail and had had enough...
I like getting mail...I think maybe I will send letters to people...yeah...
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The world is a very scary place to live. It's filled with
snaggles and snoggles and all sorts of other unnamables with weird names. When
you think of the other living quarter alternatives however, there aren't many. Or any, at all for that matter, So I guess we'll deal.
Snaggles and snoggles here we come!
The light of life is in action, inaction is only beautiful
when it is intended and brief making it an action in itself, an action of
respite and rest and serving only to return to you the vigor for progressive
action.
Do. Do not do naught.
There are those people who are too lazy or phlegmatic to
act. They fail to live. Those who do naught, are the living dead. So go get the holy oil Father Patrick! Cleanse
the world of these zombies these mockeries of life! Purge them and free their
spirits!
Or something like that.
Don’t just wait around for your life to arrive, do now, or
forever lose your piece. (of pie).
Be purged Zombie!
~*~insert zombie groaning here~*~
Sister Bertha, pray for morning! PRAY! | | |
| I was pondering. Not the meaning of life or the potential repercussions of eating too many cookies, or even of the snow's effect on the price of rice in china. I was thinking on something else entirely.
Laughter. Now you may quirk an eyebrow at my ponderization but I assure you it has merit!
I propose a new measurement for said laughter. This unit of measurement shall be known from now on and henceforth as "lols." A laugh of one lol is not only inaudible but unapparent possibly even to the laughie. It is the equivalent of a small glitter of internal amusement. One lol is apparent only to the wary.
A lol is a measurement of laughter intensity, not in sound but in the amount of amusement it is conveying, not just to the listeners but also and mainly to the conveyance of amusement within the laughie. 1,000 lols is the measurement given to the delirious laughter often manifested in the wee hours of the morning, amongst good company. A standard laugh is about 100 lols
Anything in between 1 and 1,000 lols can be measured at your discretion with this general standard. Anything greater than 1,000 lols is probably maniacal screaming that can be measured by those who bring in the straight jacket, with whatever units of measurement they wish.
How many lols is this post worth?
ps. Drop and give me 600 lols! NOW!
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