If this get's me banned, tell them I died as I lived; not reading terms and agreements

Haha, I'm going to find this endeavour rather challenging.

Writing whilst high? Well, truly some of the best feats of literature have been achieved thusly, as I hear, although am I a great literatist? Only time will tell, maybe even just the amount of those slow seconds that treacle on by like honey through sand that it takes for me to finish my deluded scribblings on this very page, although even my optimism finds this burden a little larger than the traditional straw which so proverbiably broke the donkey's back.
How quaint this little writing spree already has become.

And here I am again, higher still this time and with a released perspective on myself. Who can even say what horrors and what wonders are in these little pills? They are danger, yet joy and in the end is that not life? I dice with the devil only because I know that the highest stakes are not the ones I have to play for, and if I don't want to play a card game called 'A Needle Full of Stillness' nobody is making me but my own devil, smaller than the dealer but maybe seven times as evil.

Strange is it not how we neglect the very ground we tread on? This is no mourning; in a statement my most profound though on the matter is this; When we can't see the ground we're standing on it's because there's something else worth seeing more, and when we can it's because the world has slowed for breath and we may also take a drink between runs; wheezing with the effort of surviving only if we don't oil our gears with those frantic, snatched moments of perfection that are found when you look, look hard into the eyes of a friend, a parent or something else, something that is more than a friend no matter how much or how less more.

Life=Joy

With that equation in mind, Einstein's more famous works can be tackled with a steady hand.

Why so green and lonely, so green and lonely?

You know, I had to search my conversation history on MSN in order to find the link to my own blog today.

This feels like it should be humiliating, yet all it leaves me with is faint amusement.

Well! I do not know what kind of music my dear readers listen to (I am making the fairly grand assumption that I in fact have readers here, and also the slightly less grand assumption that my readers listen to music and the rather base assumption that they have ears) but I would like to heartily recommend The Indelicates.




They are truly fantastic. Along with Radiohead and The Shins, another two of my favorite bands this band have absolutely top notch lyrical skill. I delight in good lyrics, I find few things better than a carefully woven and spun piece of musical writing and perceive it as nothing less than an art in and of itself.

Radiohead lyrics are obscure and strange, yet still achingly beautiful and haunting...

There's always a siren,
Singing you to shipwreck,
Don't reach out, don't reach out,
Don't reach out, don't reach out,
Steer away from these rocks,
We'd be a walking disaster,
Don't reach out, don't reach out,
Don't reach out, don't reach out,
Just 'cause you feel it doesn't mean its there,
Theres someone on your shoulder,
Theres someone on your shoulder,
Just 'cause you feel it doesn't mean its there,
Theres someone on your shoulder,
Theres someone on your shoulder,
There there.

(There There/Boney King of Nowhere - Radiohead)


I don't know, I just find that absolutely compelling. Shins lyrics are a different matter, they're poetic. They flow like water or sand through your fingers and the metaphors come so thick and fast that you are actually in danger of losing some of their best lines if you don't keep your ears open. And as for the Indelicates, they have this charming, gritty and cynical approach that seems almost like a compromise between the two...

Anyway, this blog is rapidly becoming a comparison essay. That would not do.

I haven't had much spare time lately, on a lighter note, due to rehearsels. I've been cast for Orlick in a local Youth Theater production of Charles Dickens' "Great Expectations"and I needs must rehearse every day between ten and six, meaning I have to be awake at eight each day. This is difficult for someone to whom waking at all is still fairly shaky. Regardless, despite opening fears the play seems to be going well. All my fellow actors are immensely talented and great fun.

Here is a picture from the last production I did: a college production of Midsummer Night's Dream set in modern context but with the original language. It was far darker than usual; all fairies themselves being personifications of the medication administered to the lovers and accidentally imbibed by the rude mechanicals due to their incarceration in an insane asylum, and I managed to snare the rather prestigious role of Oberon, much to my delight.

I think I look rather snazzy, don't you?

Anywho, I must now be away to enjoy my wine, but afore I go I leave you with the entirity of the song earlier cited by myself:




Toodles meh darlings,
All my love.

Kisses,
The Kie.

A Brief Introduction

Which is of course a blistering falsehood; I don't believe in writing brief things.
Unless purely for some kind of effect... such as purely to cause people to question whether I was telling the truth in the title/last statement.

Damnit! Mere seconds into my blog and I have already spiraled into a tangent.

Oh well, moving swiftly on I would advise anyone with a sense of humor to look up Jonathan Coulton. He greatly amuses me, although having said that many may find his brand of comedy a tad nerdy... oh well, I am proud to be a nerd. It makes life so much easier if you know which cliche you belong to.

And now we get around to the actual intent of this entry, which was to introduce myself. To you. But unfortunately not the other way around, as that would involve me being able to see you. Or at least hear you.

ANYWAY!

I generally go by the internet alias of Binky, although recently I have had a certain predilection for Baron Saturday, Lord of the Dance, Avatar of LSD although understandably this is usually shortened to Saturday, Lord (if I get my way) but unfortunately most often I am referred to by a cascade of colorful titles that I am less enamoured with :D

Hmmm, I fear that I am neglecting something here.

At any rate I must away now to attempt to learn Jonathan Coulton songs (and likely fail. That man knows those strange, fiddly little barre chords that have names like F#badd7/Gmaj6 and are the guitar equivalent of being told to develop telekineses without any prior instructions)

Toodles, meh darlings!

Kisses,
The Kie.