Damn, it has been a while. Not really sure what happened, just kinda lost all track and desire to post anyting. Oh well, I am back and I have descided to post something that has been on my mind for a while now.

I haven't been on this site for very long, but one thing I have noticed when viewing profiles is how picky people are about their "prospective lovers". Now I am not saying that is necissarily a bad thing....there are a few things that I prefer in a woman, but some of these things just confound me. The biggest one being that I have seen so many women say that their men HAVE to have good gramar and spelling. Why? What does it ultimatly matter in the long run? I understand that they do not want "text speak" and other laziness, that way of typing annoys me as well. But to turn down someone you could posibly have a very deep connection with, just because he can't spell or does not have the best grasp of grammar is very shallow. Just because someone can't spell or doesn't know the exact placement of a comma...it doesn't always mean they are not intellegent. It just astounds me the restrictions and tricks that people make other potential lovers go through. Why can't we just accept each other and just see what happens without preconcieved restrictions and judgements. Just talk to the person, get to know them, see if they are actually worth putting up with before you turn them down outright.

Oh well, I know this came off as another "soap box" post, but I get to choose what I write here. I am not even sure if anyone reads this, but if you have...I thank you for your time.

Hello, everyone. I really have nothing to post about, so here is another poem I wrote. Hope you guys enjoy it.

 The Forgotten

In the darkness of an empty room she sits alone,

hoping for the comfort that cannot be found.

Her dreams, strange, beautiful, macabre paintings

lining the empty halls of her thoughts.

Her fears, visions of a dark shadow stalking her through vast caverns

lined with the remains of her assailant's past victims.

Her life, a shattered mirror reflecting years of pain and loneliness

from a lifetime of seclusion.

Her face, a delicate porcelain mask that hides the emotions plaguing her.

Her eyes, two stars burning with the blue fire of rage,

and the overflowing with the tears of hatred.

Her heart, a pulsating machine beating in silence,

longing for someone to love.

Her soul, an enigma never again to provide the comfort she wants.

Forever lost in the dark recesses of her mind.

And so she sits in this dark and lonely room.

Forever longing for love.

Forever longing for life.

Forever longing for hope.

Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for your time.

Hello everyone. I haven't posted in a while, mainly I just haven't thought of anything to post. That changed today as I was thinking about the few women in my past and how most of them seem to think that I was missing something important... romance. I will always concider myself a romantic person, most of the times I imagine romantic scenes through my head involving myself and some faceless mystery woman. I have figured out that, like most things, my opinion of romance is different than most people's. I have always been someone who finds happiness in the simpler things in life, and I feel the same goes for romance. I have always enjoyed the romance in a single passing touch than an expensive dinner. I just feel that the purest form of romance comes from the simplest of places. Now, I do feel that a well planned romantic night is welcome and very special. I greatly enjoy planning a nice, more traditional, romantic evening. I just feel that one can play that card too often, and the more you experience it, the more you get used to it. So I just tend to save the bigger things for special occasions. Unfortunatly, this has seemed to conflict with my previous lover's thoughts on the matter. They just seemed to desire more elaborate shows of romance, and I have tried to comply but not enough for their liking. There are some special things I have done that I am very proud of, and have been very special and romantic. But, for the most part, I just personally prefer the romance found in an embrace or even a simple caress than a fancy dinner. Maybe I am crazy. Thank you for your time.

Hello everyone. I was just thinking about sanity and normalcy. I was wondering why I am who I am and why not many people seem to be the same way. I have always known that I have seemed to think on a different wave-length than most people. Yet I am always confused as to why most seem to think of me as "unusual". I am mostly a "normal" person and I do have some degree of control in what I say and do...I just have some thoughts and desires that most would concider unusual. Whether that is throwing marshmallows at people, calling myself "Princess Steve" for a day, or even just walking slowly through a downpour. Yet, I get strange looks and remarks at how unusual I am. I find though, that if you look at the more "normal" people in the society, they have their own strange quirks. I know that this is nothing that has never been said before....and I am not really sre why I am rambling on about it, but oh well. I just have never understood why people seem to condemn me for my alternate way of thinking, I just concider myself as enjoying life more. I have always believed that the meaning of life is to live, and I am enjoying the life I am living. Sorry to ramble on like that, I just wanted to post something tonight. If you have anything you would like to hear my opinion on, feel free to ask. Thank you for your time.

Hello everyone. As I mentioned before, I am using this space just to rant and rave, and post whatever the hell I want. So this time I am rather tired, but want to post something so I will just copy over one of the poems I have written. I am posting it for thoes of you who are interested and I Hope you enjoy.

Masque

A haunting melody fills the air of the hardwood, bronze, and marble ballroom. We wander the black marble dance floor looking for someone to dance with. We wander from person to person, awash in an ever moving sea of porcelain, bright cloth, and jewelry, constantly studying and exploring each other's masks, trying to catch a glimpse of what is underneath. We see the hard and strong faces of warriors covering the faces of small children and the weak. Beautiful and lavish faces covering the hideous. Faces of the divine and just, hiding the cruel and unholy. And so we wander the marble dance floor until we find a partner. Some find that partner quickly, but most don't find that person for a long time, if at all. Yet when we meet, we start to dance. We dance in each other's arms until the time when our waltz starts to fade and slow, turning into a dark and macabre dirge. Our bright costumes become our shrouds, our masks become masks of death. Our dancing slows until we fade into the minuet. Our places only to be taken by another couple. And so the masquerade will continue. People dancing to a never-ending waltz. The culmination of past dancers, alive now in the music that they once loved.
 
So, there you have it and I hope you enjoyed it. I have always hoped that thoes who read my work draw their own personal connection and emotions from my work. So feel free to comment on my poem, I have always enjoyed hearing others opinions of my work. Maybe I will post some more in the future. Thank you for your time.

I am a strange case. I have been amazed at a bizzare trait I have where I often become obsessed with what frightens me. So often I find myself wanting to hear more and more about what I later don't want to hear about. Almost all of my bizzare obsessions carry at least a sliver of fear. Masks, corrupted toys, needles...they all freak me out in varous ways and strengths, but often when I draw or write, they often show up. I also often find things desturbing or frightening for no reason that I can find. Thoes seem to be the worst cases because that fear is more deep and visceral. It is more instinctive and psychological. It could be a song, image, thought...anything and I shut down and freak out. One image that was freaking me out for know reason was a scene from the movie Shock Treatment. At the end is the reprise of the Denton song, the camera follows a hall that is lined with people singing happily while weraing straightjackets and hats from the local television station. I have always understood the signifigance of the shot, and enjoyed it...but deep inside it frightened me. I was not sure why untill earlier today when I finally made the connection. What frightened me about that scene is the same thing that frightened me about mental institutions, cults and the military......the loss of free will. The scene showed an artistic representation of how thoes people were slaves to the television station, or at least that is what it said to me. And for some reason, I am afraid of loosing my feeling of free will. Oh well....I rambled on for a while, I'm not even sure why I talked about this subject. Oh well...thank you for your time.

      Hello everyone. I just wanted to say that if any of you reading this are into live theater and can make it to Shakespear & Company in Lenox MA, to go and see the play White People by J.T. Rogers. I was lucky enough to be invited to go and see it last night with a friend and I was blown away. It is an amazing performance that I have found very hard to sum up into words. It is funny, powerful, saddening, and brutal as you watch three people bare themselves for you. It is brutally honest and often makes you think about how you would act in the situations, and think about your own perceptions. My friend and I both left the theater speachless, yet the ending did make me smile and left me with a good feeling. The acting is amazing and I can only hope to one day reach that level of ability. Oh well, I didn't mean to go off this much on the show. I just wanted to recommend the show to anyone who can go and see it. I am not sure the price for tickets, mostly cause I got in free. But if you can make it, I would suggest going to see it. Thanks for your time.

 

    Hello all, I am not sure who is likely to read this, but thank you for taking time to read what I have to say. I have tried so many times to keep a journal...but usually I do not have much to say. But I will give it a go here, and hopefully let thoes of you reading this know more about me. I also write what I concider poetry, along with other projects, so I will also be using this to post items for anyone willing to read. It may also just end up as the landfill for many of my more randome thoughts. So, you have been warned. So, if you are interested, come on back and I will try to update this journal whenever I can. Hope to see some of you back. Thank you.