My, oh my!

I realise that I've forgotten my sign off/screen name recently. Wvunderbar. 

Well I shall be starting that again because although on one side of my mind I feel it's a little silly, I do quite like it. And I'd rather have that than nothing. 

Yours, 

Little Blue 

Well then...

I've been racked up in bed for 6 hours and I'll probably be here for another 9 hours at least so I'm going to take this time to write. A lot. What I'm going to write I don't know, but Stephen King suggest toying with stories to pass the time when one should be sleeping. "Beats the hell out of counting sheep." He says. So we'll take a stab at it then, shall we? What should it be about? Who should be in it? Where and when should it be set? 

Oh! I know. I should get a picture from my photo libraries and use it as "a stimulus to respond to in the form of my choice." Just like good ole exams. 

Ah, this is perfect. Although I don't know who it's by, I would like to credit them entirely for the picture. 

Now, how to begin...

Selling Smiles: Part I

On the crowded subway platform, swarming with desolation, I stand. The Average Joe and the Simple Susie on their way to their jobs, dour faced beneath caked expression and feigned emotion. Their attire strangely uniform, the same colours of subdued. The latest fashions blending in with the last seasons select, a blur of inarticulate ignorance; Small reflective, almost novel, buttons defining the drag of their jowls and the condescension they'll wear to the grave. 

I see the brightly coloured advertisements dredge the life out of the small enclosed space with empty promises and false hope.  'At the right price, the grass can always be greener.' 

As the thunderous crescendo of the next train approaches I smile, unburdenedly, and wonder to myself, what is our obsession with those funny little letters? Those little letters and those big numbers? 

I feel that this could be merely an abridged version, I could serialise the rest at some later point if I wanted to, so I think I shall. 

Salutations,

Little Blue. 

Currently experiencing incoherent rage; please standby

OOHHFASo, I forgot to save the post I was make earlier as a draft. So I'm just going to have a small breakdown now. 

And I'm back. 

I woke up with a killer headache this morning, it felt bad, man. Etc. etc. 

(I'm paraphrasing because I can't really remember what I wrote, nor do I really care.) Now to the part I can reconstruct. 

It's depressing how narrow sighted we can become when things aren't going right. For instance this morning, when I woke up with a terrible headache I almost completely forgot about my impending wanderlust. 

Recently it has dawned on me that what I want to do with my life, more than anything, is travel and witness all of the beauty the world can possibly bestow upon me in the time I have on this earth. This was most deeply etched into my brain yesterday. I went for a walk. Oh fun, eh? As I was returning home I saw a large cloud. Well, it looked large from a distance. But as the wind blew and I walked and the distance between us closed I saw it for its true form. A low hanging colossus. It was awesome, in the more literal sense of the world. It made me feel so... Small. It got me with an almost orchestral movement. As in when the cadence seizes you and rises, loud and powerful, to a crescendo and hits you with wonder. 

This sort of thing has also inspired me towards a belief system. And I don't mean any of them believing-in-a-deity religions, I mean Buddhism. As in vanquishing the three levels of suffering, abolishing ignorance, understanding dependent origination, and eliminating desire. You see, I can remain an Atheist and still follow the teachings of the Buddah. All this "peace and love" that it's famous for, as well as meditation and trying to be a better person. 

What the fuck ever happened to trying to be a better person? I am over this "don't judge me" and "you should love me for who I am" and "I don't need to lose weight, what is diabetes?" And "you should love me for who I am" and "you should change to suit me, but I shouldn't have to anything for you" bullshit. 

My battery I stunning low, so I'm going to wrap up with a lyric: 

"And I've had recurring nightmares

That I was loved for who I am,

And missed the opportunities

To be a better man".

- Hoodoo, Muse

Detrimentally, 

Little Blue

I'm a little bit lonesome.

Home alone, feeling terrible and wishing I had some one to cuddle and sing "Guy Love" with. But, with the lack of company, I've settled with reacquainting my self with my favourite lonely hearts and their alter-egos. Oh, how I love Hotch and Reid, as well as Tom Gibson and Mathew Grey Gubler. I mean, I love all of them, but those two particularly. 

I love the way Tom Gibson says my name. I also love the way MGG says my name. Fuck it. I love the way all of them say my name, even though I hate my name at all other times. 

Whoa, my cough has gotten really painful. Like, whoa. Or, more appropriately, like, woe. I feel like I should be coughing up blood soon... or chunks of flesh.  

Wishing you easy sleep, peanut butter sandwiches shaped like hearts and sweet dreams of the MGG. 

Yours,

Little Blue 

Wasting daylight

As sick as I am, absolutely anything I do is just an effort to kill time until I can take my next tablets. The last half an hour is usually the most painful, waiting wise. Usually I've finished all of what had occupied the last 3 and a half hours but left myself with too little time to do anything else. This becomes "mope around the house talking to the cat and boredom eating" time. Between coughing fits and efforts to dislodge the copious amounts of mucous from my nose, that is. 

Here's something I didn't know, that book, "the secret garden" is (apparently) about female sexuality. I always thought it was something like Narnia, but stupid and fantastical and boring, and therefore never read it. I guess I skipped a level (or two) when it comes to sexuality; I went straight to Ruth Ostrow (Australia's Nancy Friday). I guess I should read it, catch up in the basic ideas and ideals, it might provide me with a different angle on the subject. But in the mean time I'm perfectly happy with the physical and psychological torment inflicted on the protagonists in my horror books. 

I need to find more good psychological thriller books, I often wonder if others have the same inner torments as I do. 

Being unhindered by normal fears, my nightmares have turned to more tortuous means of fear. Some of the dreams I have are now of the ones I love dying, not the event itself but the aftermath, the grief and, often, the return of my malevolent foe; the depression I had quashed so narrowly before it gained the power to cause me self-harm. These dreams leave me weak and shaken, often quite miserable for days. 

The other of my psychological dreams are a mixed bunch, they're everything from thought provoking to downright questionable. This includes episodes of sleep paralysis, the most popular being the "impending doom approaching from behind, if I could just turn and look at it everything would be fine." The more thought provoking ones tend more towards the H.P. Lovecraft's "The Thing on the Doorstep," involving disgusting creatures that pose no threat that leave one wrought with a mixture of disgust, pity and helplessness. Some of these tend to be very curious, so curious that, even at 4am, I can't help but write them down for review with the waking mind. I haven't really dreamt since the last one (and yes I know we always dream, I mean I haven't had one that stayed with me in the slightest after waking). That one I shall post cordially, when I can be bothered typing it. 

For now, 

Little Blue 

Why hello there

So, my first blog post (outside of Tumblr). I'm not actually all that sure why I bothered, but my mother got one, so I guess I thought 'hey, it's less effort than actually writing.'

A little bit about me; ... Gosh, I don't know. I tend to give bad descriptions of myself, I either "sell myself short" (I paraphrase) or I give the wrong idea, but you'll get to know me, what I'm really like, through my posts. I would, however, like to mention that I can seem like a bit of a creep; I go through little phases of what would seem like obsession with certain people, particularly guys, but it's out of interest (and in some cases affection, but that one knows it, we're friends), not a near-homicidal fantasy.
My latest muse happens to be someone I don't know very well who associates with a group of people I've known for a long time. It's like a game: I try and get to know who they are before I actually meet them. I don't go out of my way to find things out, nor do I go out of my way to avoid meeting them to prolong the game; what happens, happens, I'm not complaining. Besides, half the reason I do it is because I want to meet them, get to know them. Again, I'd like to say that I'M TOTALLY NOT A CREEP.

Welcome to the show. I am your host;

Little Blue :)