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Well! Lessee... Sunday went better than Saturday, and I made a grand total of $76. Pretty good, considering I've never earned more than $5 before. Nobody came to the food party except Jennafer, for about an hour. Apparently Melanie didn't spread the word that the Authorities had approved the party, so nobody knew to come, even though we planned the whole thing in Chamber Singers. Oh, well. It's my fault, too, I suppose, for not telling more people. But I got to see Nia! She spent the night, and we had a pile, and a picture was inspired, and it was just all comfy. And we had meat! Mmm... cow blood. I love cows. Both to be friends with, and to eat. Ahh. Sheep, too, although they're not as friendly. I'm making myself hungry.
A personification of the Summer I know and love happened to fall into my hands, in the form of a song:
The summer smiles, the summer knows
and unashamed, she sheds her clothes.
The summer smooths the restless sky,
and lovingly she warms the sand on which you lie.
The summer knows, the summer's wise.
She sees the doubts within your eyes,
and so she takes her summer time,
tells the moon to wait and the sun to linger,
twists the world 'round her summer finger,
lets you see the wonder of it all....
And if you've learnt your lesson well,
there's little more for her to tell.
One last caress, it's time to dress
for fall.
And the music is so perfect. On the same cd is one of the few songs which reminds me intensely of Ally, called, properly, Could It Be Magic. The other song of Aliah Soul Taker, at least in my view, is Witchy Woman, by the Eagles. It's strange, but that's how we are. And the minor/diminished progressions describe her so well. I don't know if she'd like it, but I certainly do. Nia agreed it symbolizes her well.
Ah, Ally. I've scribed you your own song, yet to be sung, but I have no means by which to judge your acceptance or disgust with it. The music is yet unwritten, flitting with frustration in the back of my head, twitching with my phantom ears. Tell me what you think of the lyrics, which you saw a while ago at angelfire. Please. I hate to pout for your attention, but I'm feeling a little insecure right now. Have been... Does it matter? No. Does it feel like it does?
Light, and Dark. One is impossible without the other, for both are relative. Contrast is everything. If darkness, as was discussed at the Wyverns' comment scroll, is merely a dissent from the customary corruption of the world, a sticking to personal ethics, then wouldn't everyone consider himself dark? Night and darkness, not evil, are what I espouse. As well, I am enamored of the Light, for it casts such beautiful shadows. The Light in the nocturnal setting is one of the most lovely, and an ear for sorrows. There is the Precolumbian, Egyptian, French, Aboriginal love of the sun as a beautiful glory and harsh but life-giving ruler, one I love. And I love equally, perhaps more in a different way, Luna, of the American, Greek, English, Norse lore. But white gold and black silver; neither am I, exactly. Too fine and nobly born to symbolize me, who haven't yet earned the title of beauty that goes with the metal of a celestial Light. Fire, and common copper, neither only dark nor exclusively light, but both. Made with my own skills, and not granted by fate to wander in the sky, warm to friends but a terrible weapon when aroused. A mere symbol in the blinding Light of Day, but I show up against the Black of Night. Night is my most comfortable home, anyway. What need of a fire in the daytime? Darkness and light, both.
Ooh, blue fire. That was certainly pretentious and overtheatrical, with lots of run-ons. But I'm too much done with it to try and change it now. Very random and train-of-thought. My English teacher is always after me about structure; he'd have a fit if he saw this. He'd have a fit if he sa this, even if he wasn't an English teacher. It's weird. But I'm like that.
A personification of the Summer I know and love happened to fall into my hands, in the form of a song:
The summer smiles, the summer knows
and unashamed, she sheds her clothes.
The summer smooths the restless sky,
and lovingly she warms the sand on which you lie.
The summer knows, the summer's wise.
She sees the doubts within your eyes,
and so she takes her summer time,
tells the moon to wait and the sun to linger,
twists the world 'round her summer finger,
lets you see the wonder of it all....
And if you've learnt your lesson well,
there's little more for her to tell.
One last caress, it's time to dress
for fall.
And the music is so perfect. On the same cd is one of the few songs which reminds me intensely of Ally, called, properly, Could It Be Magic. The other song of Aliah Soul Taker, at least in my view, is Witchy Woman, by the Eagles. It's strange, but that's how we are. And the minor/diminished progressions describe her so well. I don't know if she'd like it, but I certainly do. Nia agreed it symbolizes her well.
Ah, Ally. I've scribed you your own song, yet to be sung, but I have no means by which to judge your acceptance or disgust with it. The music is yet unwritten, flitting with frustration in the back of my head, twitching with my phantom ears. Tell me what you think of the lyrics, which you saw a while ago at angelfire. Please. I hate to pout for your attention, but I'm feeling a little insecure right now. Have been... Does it matter? No. Does it feel like it does?
Light, and Dark. One is impossible without the other, for both are relative. Contrast is everything. If darkness, as was discussed at the Wyverns' comment scroll, is merely a dissent from the customary corruption of the world, a sticking to personal ethics, then wouldn't everyone consider himself dark? Night and darkness, not evil, are what I espouse. As well, I am enamored of the Light, for it casts such beautiful shadows. The Light in the nocturnal setting is one of the most lovely, and an ear for sorrows. There is the Precolumbian, Egyptian, French, Aboriginal love of the sun as a beautiful glory and harsh but life-giving ruler, one I love. And I love equally, perhaps more in a different way, Luna, of the American, Greek, English, Norse lore. But white gold and black silver; neither am I, exactly. Too fine and nobly born to symbolize me, who haven't yet earned the title of beauty that goes with the metal of a celestial Light. Fire, and common copper, neither only dark nor exclusively light, but both. Made with my own skills, and not granted by fate to wander in the sky, warm to friends but a terrible weapon when aroused. A mere symbol in the blinding Light of Day, but I show up against the Black of Night. Night is my most comfortable home, anyway. What need of a fire in the daytime? Darkness and light, both.
Ooh, blue fire. That was certainly pretentious and overtheatrical, with lots of run-ons. But I'm too much done with it to try and change it now. Very random and train-of-thought. My English teacher is always after me about structure; he'd have a fit if he saw this. He'd have a fit if he sa this, even if he wasn't an English teacher. It's weird. But I'm like that.
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