30 June, 2008

Ze Sabreduelischt


7:24 PM
OOkaye, so here followse ane accounte ofe ye infamousse sabreduele betwixt twaine Force-adeptsesesesesesesesesesesesesesesesssseseseeeesssesessfrgregvtrbs yiugnb ifgiudtrnghbjmh09.
Thiffe followeth ye duelelelele fromme ye pointe offe viewe offe Alarond, Lord Greywrath as he essayeth forth (*essayeth, mind you!) against Prince Kazarelth Feantur. (check out Kaz's version of the thingy please!)


Oh, and how downright silly of me - forgot to set the scene.
Alright then. Tall pillars rising high up until the top arches are lost in the gloom. Rough-hewn flagstones over which the chill gusts blow zephyrs of dust. In most places, there is no ceiling or wall - and the angry boiling mass of thunderclouds can be seen looming grim and grey and ominous.

Well...you get the general idea of aggressive geography. No need for alarums, the site is alarming enough.
Sorry, forgot to mention - there be snow-capped peaks in the distant horizon, liked the serrated edge of the Scythe of Death.

There are light footsteps echoing through the cavernous desolation. Not steps trying to conceal the sound, but that of beings soft-footed by the very nature of their existence.
Two figures emerge and face each other, like in the Westerns y'know. Only, they aren't blooming bow-legged or clattering about in spurs.
Hooded, cloaked, arms hidden within the folds of darkly flowing robes billowing in the wind.
The slightly taller and bulkier one's tunic is trimmed in teal and there is a gleam of glinting eyes from within the cowl.
The other is thin, almost emaciated with darkling eyes that tended to smoulder.
What!?! You don't expect them to be joined by some other people and start playing contract bridge or something, do you?

me: the FOrce is with this one. ;)
Haryon: Which one? :P
me: thyself
Haryon:
;P
en garde!
me: en riposte!
7:25 PM Haryon: Counter riposte!
Add-on riposte! :P
me: _wrist flick, twirl!!!!!_)
Haryon: <*Force Usage*> Lightning
:P
7:26 PM me: <*yoda style reflect back*> <*yee-haw!!*>
Haryon: So it works both ways.
Conservation of energy when energy collides :P
<*Force Choke*>

7:27 PM me: <*blocks*>
btw, we shud publish this chat on BLogger

Haryon: <*More Chokery*>
{Yes!}

7:28 PM me: <*becomes impassive, lifts up left hand as if spastic, says in constipated tones, "Stop" a la Neo*>

7:29 PM Haryon:<*Does not stop since he lives beyond the Matrix*>Behold Jedi ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssscummmmmmmmmmmmm<*Does a little corkscrew turning thingee like Sidious daddy and puts the saber through a pillar*>
7:31 PM
me: <*withdraws into hooded robe like nazgul, then white light stabs out at the Palpy-emulator*> Alarond lives beyond matrix too. but not JRR T.
7:32 PM <*back flips*>



7:32 PM
Haryon: <*Mystically transforms the white shaft into a many-coloured rainbow and goes in search of the treasure at the end of it and discovers a fairy instead and has sex with her*>
:P
7:33 PM Yeah, bitches. Kidstuff erotica xD

7:34 PM me: <*records it and threatens blackmail. Sex, Lies and duct-tape -I mean, videotape!*>


Haryon: Blackmail _who_, exactly? :P
me: the fairy, yer nut
Haryon: /me has nothing to fear muhuahuahaahuahahaha
me: you're too much a philistine to fear i gather.
Haryon: Oh. She must be a horny 'un :P
7:35 PM me: indeed. and despo to allow you
Haryon: Hey. You were the one who mentioned something like "Fealdamar has a mistress eh" or something.
xP
me: ;)
well, has she?
i mean, Fealdamar
Haryon: Well... not really.
7:36 PM BUT. I need to know where exactly you got that info from
me: if 'well...not really' then why the counter-query?
7:37 PM Haryon: Because, redolently, you must have heard something.
Or seen.
Or both.
me: Or neither
Haryon: Or neither.
How _nice_. :[
me: Just a catcher in the rye
Haryon: I was thinking of some nice debate and going against the rumourmerchant
And then shaking my fist at him or something.
7:38 PM Really... it was just your guess? :(
Man. This sucks.
me: Might be. Or then again, i may be protecting my shourshes (shirr Seam)
*sean
Haryon: Good point.
The whole point being, I wouldn't go after your sources
7:39 PM But I'd protect my fictional gf from them
me: hahaha
Haryon: Which is beyond the point really.
{I'd rather protect meself :P}
me: well then, make the fictional a reality. then u might get a chance to do some of the more swashbuckling saber moves in a damsel's honor
7:40 PM Haryon: Yes.
There seem to be no opportunities for that.
IN MY WOULD-BE COLLEGE THOUGH! :P
It sucks that beauty is inversely proportional to brains mostly.
7:41 PM me: Insooth yes.
Haryon: :[
7:42 PM me: we are publishing this on respective blogs, ain't we?
i'd like to cross-link ours
Haryon: Haha yes xD
7:43 PM {In some time, plis. I need a day more of my writing to stay}
{I'll publish tomorrow at 4 PM. What say?}
me: Agreed! Ah, Our episods. For public review at last
7:44 PM .....
Haryon: Yes!
Only, our episods are pretty 18+ :P
me: Ha! That's the point entirely. HOpefully the more conservative ladies wouldn't be scandalised!
7:45 PM I mean as this one for a preview
.
Haryon: Yes...



08 June, 2008

Like moonlight on snow

I had pounded down the sloping sidewalk. Past the flaring headlights and blaring horns. The rush and speed of a life that always finds me lagging.
Yes, there was laughter. And words. And silences that didn't deafen. Not any more.

It takes a while to find that bread and butter doesn't come with a complementary jug of honey. Even if it does, it's not always meant for the nearest grabber.
Or maybe it is.

Stop! That way lies madness.

The stars wheel overhead, the computer hums and lights twinkle from the night like a seaport. Guiding my wayward vessel back home. The sea-longing never sated, but merely slumbering. My highest reverence!
Yes, I'd have the half-smile than a void. A nod than a nothing. Absolutes are for the gods and the insane. I am neither. Yet.

Wanderlusting through the meandering bylanes of Anywhere. Dark wraith in shadowy nooks. I make people uneasy, I know. Dutiful smiles, back-slaps and back-stabs. The salt in my veins runs deep, one feels. Like the roots of the mountains whose far peaks I had descried from atop a paternal shoulder. Long time ago, in a reality far, far away.
A sign, a call! In the first breath of sunrise, the frolick of moonlight on snow. Or the shimmer of heat over countless rooftops. Thoughts soar like unbounded limits. I shall answer.

Somehow, though summers always end, something I feel will stay with me. Friends in need, they say, are friends indeed. With that worn and dog-eared adage, I take my leave. To dreams untroubled of angst after many a pillow-pounding night.
Farewell!

So hard to define...Dylan speaks for me

I laid on a dune, I looked at the sky,
When the children were babies and played on the beach.
You came up behind me, I saw you go by,
You were always so close and still within reach.

Sara, Sara,
Whatever made you want to change your mind?
Sara, Sara,
So easy to look at, so hard to define.

I can still see them playin' with their pails in the sand,
They run to the water their buckets to fill.
I can still see the shells fallin' out of their hands
As they follow each other back up the hill.

Sara, Sara,
Sweet virgin angel, sweet love of my life,
Sara, Sara,
Radiant jewel, mystical wife.

Sleepin' in the woods by a fire in the night,
Drinkin' white rum in a Portugal bar,
Them playin' leapfrog and hearin' about Snow White,
You in the marketplace in Savanna-la-Mar.

Sara, Sara,
It's all so clear, I could never forget,
Sara, Sara,
Lovin' you is the one thing I'll never regret.

I can still hear the sounds of those Methodist bells,
I'd taken the cure and had just gotten through,
Stayin' up for days in the Chelsea Hotel,
Writin' "Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands" for you.

Sara, Sara,
Wherever we travel we're never apart.
Sara, oh Sara,
Beautiful lady, so dear to my heart.

How did I meet you? I don't know.
A messenger sent me in a tropical storm.
You were there in the winter, moonlight on the snow
And on Lily Pond Lane when the weather was warm.

Sara, oh Sara,
Scorpio Sphinx in a calico dress,
Sara, Sara,
You must forgive me my unworthiness.

Now the beach is deserted except for some kelp
And a piece of an old ship that lies on the shore.
You always responded when I needed your help,
You gimme a map and a key to your door.

Sara, oh Sara,
Glamorous nymph with an arrow and bow,
Sara, oh Sara,
Don't ever leave me, don't ever go.

Well, he has said it all. Left now is to blow out the candle. Softly, softly! And smile like there is no tomorrow.

02 June, 2008

Addicted to laziness

I've been mulling over the usual things - get going on finishing ol' Joyce's contribution to standard Gibberish (Ulysses), burn my Bergman collection onto a CD, get a hold on Python instead of toying with the darn code and get the whining fan on my chassis fixed.

The mulling has been on for a week or so.
I'm basically gorging, dragging myslf out with friends, then flopping back on bed. Managed to read The twentieth wife (no, not for ideas; rather nice really: about Mehr-un-nisa and Jehangir), Giovanni's Room (skimmed over the really gay parts...eeeks!!! I'm homophobic, can't be helped.), watched Antonioni's The perfect woman.
Hopelessly browsing through colleges to apply to.

Braved the heat to pop into Xavier's. La pater a la dacshund received me most imperiously. Retaliated by raising my left eyebrow by a fraction. Some people have achieved more with raising it a millimeter, than most with raising their voices. Empty corridors stretching down the eastern wing. Desolate. And the closed doors seem to forever exclude me now from the school. Thankfully.

Welcome visitor!