The Closest to Kingdom That You Will Come

You are a portrait of perfection. A beautiful masterpiece. While all of us..? How impudent we are! Foisting our inferior forms upon your eyes. We are merely scribbles and squiggles; the very sight of us offends your eyes! Even those who have held privileged, sacred lives upon the highest pedestals hold nothing in regard to your splendor. Even with all our spit and polish, we make for but crude drawings on the wall in your comparison. It really gets my goat to think there are some who would consider contesting your beauty. Are they oblivious, or simply in denial? Can they not see that we are not to be exalted and should remain nothing but chalk stains on the sidewalk? Our colors will always be drab and ordinary, forever paling in comparison to the brilliant white of your artful creation. It's truly a shame what sad, dreary paintings we all make when displayed next to your magnificence. We are complacent. We are corrupt. Do not be deceived. We are the spitting image of monsters, and must don the masks rightfully so.. I'm sorry. Please, excuse my digression. I know you haven't time to listen to my prattle. Farewell. I'm sure you're off to acquire what little perfection you can find in this gaudy world of ours.

written from no real point of view

#basedblog

This is a totally and completely #based blog. I apologize if this journal is inappropriate or does not resemble what a typical journal should. I will not be backspacing and I will not be spell checking. This is tough for me, I hope you understand. What is #based? Well I'm writing very based and very rare rihgt now. That mistake will cost me later.. Being based is a conscious flow of thought streaming forth uninhibited by any sort of restriction of any kind or of any sort. Hold on. I have to move my bed closer to the wall so my pets cannot cause mischief. They are very mischevious creatures that I love and want to be safe. I cherish them more than some people I know because they are soft. I'm going to move the bed now then take a break to re-enter my state of completely based consciousness. Sorry. I know it wasn't a long time for you, since you just read the next sentence after all, but for me it was a rigorous trial to scoot my bed and come back to based world. So, how are you feeling? Oh, this is sad and lonely. I have no 'you' to direct this at.. I will just remain based and continue to drink this decadent mixture of the heart of an oak tree and vanilla coke. This song is incredibly pleasing to my ears and I wish I had words that could aptly present it's beauty in words. It's very atmospheric and has some odd chanting in the background. The chants are crescendo-ing, I hope they do not intend to mount my spirit, body, and mind because they will be sorely disappointed. My mental integrity is currently impregnable, no matter how fertile the intrusive voices may be. I wish I hadn't been so sick on my birthday so I could have had some cake. It was a lovely, pristine cake. That it was. It was entirely edible. Which you would expect from a cake, of course, but this cake had edible bows and other toppings. Not sure why a bow since I'm a 19 year old man-boy but it was definitely an edible arrangement. I'm quite ravenous for that cake now. I would swim through a lake for that cake, mostly because it would be the only thing to calm this fire in my belly that longs for that cake-y substance. What doth life.. 

The Flow of Time is Distorted, Here in Lordran..

Its very fabrics waver, and relations shift and obscure. We are amongst strange beings, in a strange land. We are all undead slowly slipping into a hollow madness. Freaks living in recession. But you don't look hollow, far from it.. Me? I am an adherent of the Lord of Sunlight. Now that I am undead, I have come to this desolate land to seek my very own sun. The sun is a wondrous body, like a magnificent father! If only I could be so grossly incandescent.. then you would know the brilliance of our sun, and I know you would fancy it. Never mind my ramblings, there's no telling how long your world and mine will remain in contact. But the way I see it? Our fates appear to be intertwined. In a land brimming with hollows, could this really be mere chance? Why not help one another on this lonely journey? We could maintain contact in spirit, cross the gap between worlds, and engage in jolly co-operation! Do you find that strange? No need to hide your reaction. Not to worry, I do not mean to impose. I was in the wrong. However, anytime you seek aide, do not hesitate to call upon me. You have a strong faith and, most importantly, a strong heart. You've left me with quite an impression, and I would relish the opportunity to assist you in the trials that await. It would warm my hearth to see you traverse these lands with your humanity in tact. No matter. I shall stay here at the Altar of Sunlight, praying for you and pondering my poor fortune. But if you change your mind, the offer is open.
Hah hah hah..

Avoid the Noid

That might seem like meaningless rubbish to most but it is actually a goal that must be attained by all former and current employees of Domino's Pizza. The Noid is a ridiculous looking man clad in a red, skin-tight, rabbit eared suit with a cheesy black "N" insignia in the middle of a white circle that is centered on his chest. This figure was a physical manifestation of all the challenges of becoming annoyed (uh-"noyed" = Noid) that are inherent in working, as Wikipedia as told me. I've tried to remove him from the workplace, mostly because I've removed myself from that insufferable place after two and a half years of employment, and apply him to pretty much every aspect of life. Because why worry? Life is what you make it. Take time to relax and assess things from a clear perspective. If you can't, don't worry or be annoyed. Just be done with it and revisit it later with a different perspective and perhaps a different understanding of the situation. I haven't done this yet because every time I think I've got a moment of recess it seems I lose my fingers, but I do intend to expand my nexus in the near future. It might be a trying process but nothing with meaning is easy, is it? I don't know how else to elaborate on that, or how I would've left this line blank without this sentence.

I don't read or check for the amount of words in these journal entries usually, but I got less than halfway through this one and noticed about 50 words. This is one of the shortest pieces I've written and I don't think it's too much to assume that it's already 200 words. That makes plenty of these other posts very silly in length, and probably waste of my time. I'll allow it, though, because it's surprisingly calming to write all of this dreck. Finding the voice in your head and permitting it to flourish is a pleasant sensation. Not that there's multiple voices. I only mean that crafting and working on your own individual is fulfilling.

A Week in the Life of a Dancer

I've been secretly dancing (in private) everyday for the last four years. It started out to prove that it was foolish and displeasing but I found myself unusually given to the act. I then began practicing dancing on my own. A few friends danced too, and we danced together sometimes, but overall I found it more relaxing and enjoyable to do in my spare time. It was relieving; alleviated me from most stresses. I was too cool for dancing before and was the embodiment of an ice cube, but once I started it watered me down till I drifted abound and found the beauty of basking in its sunlight. I don't legitimately mean everyday, obvi a hyperbole. Hip words, dancing makes you say 'em. But really. Everyday, all day, would burn me out, make me a burn out weirdo dance addict, and would be unproductive if I lived and breathed dance. It's just easier to say everyday since the days I don't are few and far between. Like I said though, my days aren't a daze of dance. I dance then proceed to do other activities. It's practice. Practice makes perfect, right? We all just want to be perfect, and dancing makes me feel perfect. I wake up, shower, eat if I'm hungry, dance, eat a snack, go to class, come home, do a little dance, play some games or music or tv, dance dance, eat dinner with my family, dawdle, brush my teeth, wash my face, do a jig then fall asleep. Of course since I'm an all-american teen, painful to type even in the most tongue-in-cheek sense, I refresh my social media feed, hangout with my friends at random moments of the day but those aren't guaranteed on the daily. I've made myself a rut, and the monotony has yet to strike me as monotonous. What's that? Dancing that much isn't normal and my parents might be worried? It's fine, they see my accomplishments and sincerity. Besides, they know. Don't be such a dweeb. There's much more wisdom and moderation than I portray, I promise. I just don't know the words to say that would properly convey the convictions I know to be true. I don't know what to say to convince anyone of what I believe. If there's a goblet of the right words lying about, I please hand it to me.
I am so thirsty.

Mass For Shut-Ins

I've read a lot of books and could tell you things you never knew, especially about places you've personally and previously live in. That's a small jab at the kid who was in junior Olympics judo or whatever and tried correcting that girl on the climate/weather in Washington that one day. Sorry if that's petty of me, but that guy seems to hold his opinion abnormally high and should consider taking a nap some time. Anyway, here's what I wrote in class: I'm not sure of a work of literature that has made a noticeable impact on me. Honestly haven't read as much as I would of liked to in the last three years, and that's disappointing now that I think of it. All of the last few that I read in AP English my last two years of high school were pretty interesting and fantastic though. Most people didn't read at all, or read a few pages then sparknote'd and wrote the summary off as stupid, but I typically enjoyed whatever weird story I ended up reading. Well, not all of them were that obscure, except Crime & Punishment (still great), but I guess I felt weird for liking the them. Crime and Punishment, Atlas Shrugged, Gulliver's Travels, 1984, and the Grapes of Wrath being the books I read in class. Dunno why I feel the need to explain that, or this sentence itself either. Free writing is a whimsical thing. I also reread the first three books in the Harry Potter series and started reading Red Dragon, the first book in the Hannibal Lectar series, but that was of my own doing. Red Dragon is really dark and the detail is more than likely sickening to some but I'm not very affected by it. I love how the author describes it. That's something odd that I think I get from my mom. She loves horror movies so I guess after watching so much gory cheese, it's somehow refreshing to to read details that make you cringe or would look ridiculous recreated on screen. Not like I love murder or immense violence, though. I just have a fascination with detail and words to a certain extent.