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Can anyone ever be sufficiently committed to Sparkle Motion?

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Ouroboros

Started by President Television, September 27, 2011, 11:43:55 PM

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President Television

You create, and you destroy, and you negate it all with a wrathful twitch of your fingers at the keyboard. You know this isn't what you want to be, this 21st-century monkey raised by the internet, but you're too bored and too tired to do a thing about it, and you know that your fingers aren't hitting hard enough. Of course not. These fingers were made for flinging shit, but you know that that isn't what you want. You want to be a glorious mad bastard, and you could dance in the ashes of the last age of nuclear hellfire if only you'd learn to let those feet fly. But the feet have fingers of their own, and thumbs besides, and sometimes it feels like the thumbs are all you've got.

Bullshit. Batshit. APESHIT. You know you're kidding yourself. You could be a god if you weren't so wrapped up in your self-indulgent self-hating fappery. YOU COULD BREAK THIS CITY. All you need to do is practice. Practice, and one day you too could be the spectacular porcelain-cracking wonderboy of brilliant, mad, deranged and perverted prophecy, burning and razing nations with a breath and pausing only briefly to sing "I Am Henry the Eighth I Am" to the screams of a thousand dessicated rabid Tusconite savages. Isn't that motivation enough?! Fine then. Wallow in your shit, and feed on it, and twist in on yourself like origami. And when the lights go out, you'll be the first they throw in the fire. Because you're a freak. You know it, and they know it. They can smell it on you. YOU WALK NOT IN A LAND OF GODS BUT IN A LAND OF HIDEOUS TWISTED APES. GIVE EM HELL.

Or Kill Yourself.
My shit list: Stephen Harper, anarchists that complain about taxes instead of institutionalized torture, those people walking, anyone who lets a single aspect of themselves define their entire personality, salesmen that don't smoke pipes, Fredericton New Brunswick, bigots, philosophy majors, my nemesis, pirates that don't do anything, criminals without class, sociopaths, narcissists, furries, juggalos, foes.

Cramulus

a piece of drift wood floats by

jagged angry letters burned into it

"IGNITE YOURSELF"


another piece follows

"WHILE THERE'S STILL TIME"

President Television

I really, really hope this is just me flushing all the bad writing out of my system.
My shit list: Stephen Harper, anarchists that complain about taxes instead of institutionalized torture, those people walking, anyone who lets a single aspect of themselves define their entire personality, salesmen that don't smoke pipes, Fredericton New Brunswick, bigots, philosophy majors, my nemesis, pirates that don't do anything, criminals without class, sociopaths, narcissists, furries, juggalos, foes.

Luna

Only one way to find out.

It wasn't bad at all, keep on.
Death-dealing hormone freak of deliciousness
Pagan-Stomping Valkyrie of the Interbutts™
Rampaging Slayer of Shit-Fountain Habitues

"My father says that almost the whole world is asleep. Everybody you know, everybody you see, everybody you talk to. He says that only a few people are awake, and they live in a state of constant, total amazement."

Quote from: The Payne on November 16, 2011, 07:08:55 PM
If Luna was a furry, she'd sex humans and scream "BEASTIALITY!" at the top of her lungs at inopportune times.

Quote from: Nigel on March 24, 2011, 01:54:48 AM
I like the Luna one. She is a good one.

Quote
"Stop talking to yourself.  You don't like you any better than anyone else who knows you."

Hoser McRhizzy

Quote from: Uncle Wallified on September 27, 2011, 11:43:55 PM
YOU COULD BREAK THIS CITY. All you need to do is practice. Practice, and one day you too could be the spectacular porcelain-cracking wonderboy of brilliant, mad, deranged and perverted prophecy, burning and razing nations with a breath and pausing only briefly to sing "I Am Henry the Eighth I Am" to the screams of a thousand dessicated rabid Tusconite savages. Isn't that motivation enough?! Fine then. Wallow in your shit, and feed on it, and twist in on yourself like origami. And when the lights go out, you'll be the first they throw in the fire. Because you're a freak. You know it, and they know it. They can smell it on you. YOU WALK NOT IN A LAND OF GODS BUT IN A LAND OF HIDEOUS TWISTED APES. GIVE EM HELL.

:mittens:

Great beginning for whatever it is you're getting into!  I hope you keep writing.

- one of the lurkers
It feels unreal because it's trickling up.

Triple Zero

Ex-Soviet Bloc Sexual Attack Swede of Tomorrow™
e-prime disclaimer: let it seem fairly unclear I understand the apparent subjectivity of the above statements. maybe.

INFORMATION SO POWERFUL, YOU ACTUALLY NEED LESS.

Doktor Howl

Molon Lube