rionaleonhart | Entries tagged with poetry

I've been thinking about The Mentalist recently, and I have finally realised exactly what the ending of 'Red Sky in the Morning' meant. ONLY TOOK ME A YEAR AND A HALF.

( Spoilers for the second-series finale of The Mentalist. )

To my immense relief, Elena of Uncharted 3 goes back to looking like Elena when she's taken her eye makeup off. Also, Nate and Elena, in case you haven't gleaned this from every entry I've made about the Uncharted series, are freaking adorable. The 'get some rest' scene made me clasp my hands over my heart and squeak.

There was a point at which I thought I was going to fail a section and then Elena drove in at exactly the right moment and I actually exclaimed 'God, I love Elena' at the screen. I love that the characters who travel with you in the Uncharted games are a help, rather than a hindrance; it's all 'here are some competent characters with guns who will help you out and take care of themselves', rather than 'here's a character with no combat skill or self-preservation instincts at all; better try to keep them alive!'

Well, all right, there was the time when Sully blocked my way while I was trying to run away from a grenade. That went quite badly. But I've forgiven him now.

I appear to have been sorted into Hufflepuff on Pottermore.

Whoops!

Oh, I so wanted to be in Ravenclaw. I really did. But the first question on my Sorting quiz was 'How would you like history to remember you?', and two of the options were 'the Wise' and 'the Good', and I sat there and thought, 'I want to be in Ravenclaw,' and then I thought, '...but I would rather be "the Good".'

And honesty is itself a Hufflepuff trait, so I suppose choosing that option makes me doubly Hufflepuff.

Hufflepuff is a very fine house, and it would have been my second choice, and its badger mascot on Pottermore is completely adorable. But people do tend to underestimate Hufflepuffs, and having my intelligence underestimated is something that I really, really hate. If I actually did attend Hogwarts, the attitude displayed towards Hufflepuff would drive me absolutely mad. (Also, I feel Ravenclaw fits me more closely because it represents not only my good qualities but the really annoying things about me. The really annoying things are a significant aspect of my personality, Sorting Hat!)

In any case, here are some amazing fictional characters who would probably be in Hufflepuff: Fluttershy, Applejack, Zell Dincht (he'll try to pretend he's in Gryffindor; don't listen), Laguna Loire, Sazh Katzroy, Snow Villiers, Blaine Anderson (the fandom tends to put him in Gryffindor because his actor also portrayed Harry Potter, but I don't think Blaine is a Gryffindor at all), Ty Lee, Zuko (he gets very touchy about this; don't mention it to him), Rory Williams, Mickey Smith, Fernando Sucre, Dean Winchester, Maes Hughes, Allison Cameron (borderline Slytherin in later seasons), Dr John 'JD' Dorian, Karen Fisher, Annie Sawyer, Guinevere of Merlin. Yuna of Final Fantasy X, one of my favourite characters ever, is borderline Hufflepuff-Gryffindor, as is Bonnie MacFarlane. Dr Heinz Doofenshmirtz vehemently claims to have been a Slytherin, but his student records tell a very different story.

AND NOW MORE RED DEAD REDEMPTION, BECAUSE I CAN'T SHUT UP.

All right. As you may have gleaned by now, I love Red Dead Redemption. I love the world; I love Marston; I love Bonnie; I love my horse; I love the dialogue; I love faffing around in the magnificent wilderness for hours on end, doing nothing that advances the plot but having fun anyway.

There are some things I do not love about this game, however, and I shall now convey one of these to you in poetic form.

Ode to the Wildlife of Red Dead Redemption

dear cougars
please stop killing my horse
you're awfully pretty and furry, of course
but I wish you would show just a hint of remorse
:( :( :(

I particularly hate the cougars because they've made New Austin scary for me. The game is so beautiful and I just want to ride for hours, but whenever I venture out of the cougar-free haven of Mexico I'm on edge because at any moment a cougar could come along to ruin my day. (When a cougar does kill my horse, I have to reload. I can't help it. By this point, I have become so attached to my Kentucky Saddler that I find myself greeting him with 'Hey, baby' as he approaches.)

You know when you hold a very strong opinion about something and, looking for reassurance that you're not alone, seek others who share that opinion? I became so frustrated with the cougars that I eventually decided to search on Google for others who hated them as much as I did. I think the phrase I chose for my search was 'fuck cougars' or 'fucking cougars'.

This, as you'll probably have guessed, turned out to be a mistake.

Maybe Pottermore was right; I'm really not a Ravenclaw.

Here is the writeup of our family holiday, during which we passed through places with names such as 'Waterley Bottom', 'Giggleswick' and 'Wigglesworth'! The cast are me, my mum, my dad and my two younger brothers, Joseph and Fred. In case you're not sure who 'Harriet' is: that's my real name, which I'm using in this writeup because my family don't call me Riona.

Signs we saw in various pubs:

'This may come as a surprise to you, but your fellow diners do not wish to hear about your colostomy.'

'Husbands and wives do not hold hands or grope each other in public. People having a bit on the side do. It is obvious, embarrassing and silly. Please control your hormones.'

'Should a hand reach up out of the toilet, you are advised not to shake it.'

( Professor McGonagall, where's your monocle? )

By the way, if you ever find a golf ball in a blackberry bush in the Lake District, it is ours. Well, sort of ours. Fred found it in a cluster of trees next to a golf course. I suppose it's technically stolen.

(If you missed them and you're interested, most of the limericks we composed on this holiday are in an entry over here.)

So I've been missing for the past week! This is not because of the riots, but because my family and I have been touring the north-west of England. It was a holiday somewhat blighted by poor weather and ill health (I write to you whilst feeling as if I swallowed a cheese grater at every town we visited), but it was still good fun.

The cast of this entry: me, my mum, my dad and my two younger brothers, Joseph and Fred.

A lovely friend of Fred's agreed to feed our two cats in our absence despite being allergic to cats. Dad left a note telling him where to find the cat food. I left a note warning him that one of the cats had a habit of trying to eat the other's meals. Fred left a note that, well...

Hey [friend], whats up?! Sometimes the cats need you to rub their fur in your eyes so they feel comfortable eating around you. THANKS!

He also left a note on the staircase: WHY are you going upstairs?!! >:(

I don't feel well enough for a full writeup of our adventures just yet, so this entry is dedicated to the terrible limericks we created in the car.

( There once was a pop star named Britney/Who asked all the babies to hit me. )

I'll try to get a proper writeup done over the next couple of days. I hope you're all well, and that the riots didn't impact too heavily on you!

Things are a bit stressful at the moment (you know the Mitchell and Webb theory that housemates fall into the categories of 'people who are annoying' and 'people who become annoyed'? I am an annoying housemate; the friend with whom I live is an annoyed housemate, and she is at the moment actively annoyed, and when people are annoyed with me I tend to get very upset and run around trying to cook them meals and buy them chocolates (please do not exploit this knowledge for chocolates)), and so, seeking a distraction, I invite you to share extracts from silly things you wrote in your childhood. (EDIT: Silly things you drew are also very welcome!)

For my part: recently, looking through some of the things I drew and wrote when I was a child, I stumbled across the following poem I'd written about my name:

H is for all of the harvest fruit
A for all the apples on the tree
R is for the redcurrants on the bush
R is rabbits for you and me
I for ice cream
E for eaves
T for Tutancarmoon* the egiptians believed

* lol

I clearly sort of gave up halfway through. Eaves, Little Riona? Eaves? Really? You genuinely couldn't think of another word beginning with 'E'? Tutankhamun was really something you associated strongly with yourself?

There's also a card I've written to my dad. It says, 'Dear Daddy. Happy Birthday! I hope you like your Presents. Love From Reepicheep.'

I had completely forgotten that I used to pretend to be Reepicheep when I was younger. I'd walk up and down the house, pretending that I was on the Dawn Treader and had to keep my balance. (He's a swordfighting mouse; who wouldn't want to be him?) The idea of my dad fathering Reepicheep is a tiny bit alarming, frankly.

Also: 'Daddy has his article that he is reading titled "Becketts Bass ruling proves the fallibility of convential wisdom". It does not seem to make sense at all. Why dosen't he just read the Beano?' I concur, younger self; who needs newspapers when you could be reading comics? Honestly. (Ooh, a search turns up the article in question and therefore allows me to date this particular pearl of wisdom! I would have been just about to turn nine. Bit appalled by the fact that I couldn't spell 'doesn't' at that age, although I'll let 'convential' slide.)

And there are the beginnings of a made-up language! To my amusement, 'fic' meant 'shut up' and, although the language had only thirty-four words, one of them meant 'pretend to be a mouse'. I knew where my linguistic priorities lay.

picture by

th_esaurus

It is my thousandth entry and also my twenty-second birthday, and it has been so lovely! Friends came over, and we ate cake and sat in a tree and sang spontaneous mashups of Lady Gaga's 'Poker Face' and Rasputina's 'The New Zero' to ukulele accompaniment, not necessarily all at the same time.

Here is the double-dactyl poem that my brother Joseph wrote in his card to me:

Higgledy Piggledy
Harriet Evans was
Ageing a year with Ju-
ly getting late.
Matters of age see her
Unaspirational:
Well in her Twenties but
Thinking she's eight.
I think it sums things up rather nicely.

Ahahaha, oh, dear, I fear my parents may be becoming concerned by my uneventful love life. An exchange I recently had with my father via the incomprehensible medium of Google Wave:

Riona's Father: Loved the VD Post!

MY DEAREST HARRIET
YOU COULD BE PALLY YET.
IF SOMEONE GRABS YOU WITH THEIR LARIAT
DON'T DILLY-DALLY, PET

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

Riona: I automatically interpreted 'VD' as 'venereal disease'. I just thought you should know.

OH DAD
DON'T BE SAD
THAT I HAVEN'T YET MET A SUITABLE LAD
UNIVERSITY, AFTER ALL, 'S DRIVING ME MAD
AND I THINK THAT'S ENOUGH UNTIL MAY

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

Riona's Father: Of course you did.

A scholarly lady named Harriet
Was senseless to Time's Wing-ed Chariot.
Her ramblings eternal
Upon her Livejournal
Did not dispose her to marry yet.

I might have been mildly ticked off had the pressure not been presented in such a hilarious format.

In the comments to my entry on The Bubble,

anewcitylife proposed retitling the show The Abuse David Mitchell Half Hour.

I would love to watch The Abuse David Mitchell Half Hour. David Mitchell is needled and mocked, and he makes quietly self-deprecating comments until eventually he snaps and flies into one of his amazing minute-long rants. (Obviously I am not proposing this rather cruel concept out of any dislike for David Mitchell. I adore David Mitchell. I just happen to feel that he is at his most hilarious and adorable when he is nettled. Sorry, Mitchell.)

What are some other television programmes that do not exist but clearly should? There's the documentary about David Mitchell and Charlie Brooker's crime-fighting adventures, obviously; they have no physical fighting ability whatsoever, but their sarcasm is devastating. There's Master Who, the weirdly-reminiscent-of-Tom-and-Jerry Doctor Who spinoff in which the Master attempts to take over the world in every episode but is thwarted by Donna Noble. There's Celebrity Big Brother: Top Gear Edition, in which Clarkson, Hammond and May are locked in a house together and the public make bets on how long it will be before they somehow blow it up. By what do you feel our televisions would be infinitely improved?

(EDIT: Who just sent me an anonymous vgift? Thank you so much! ♥!)

Happy Valentine's Day! Would anyone like an incredibly terrible poem?

WARNING: I AM NOT JOKING WHEN I SAY THEY WILL BE INCREDIBLY TERRIBLE. Here are some of my compositions so far:

For my ex-housemate (but also dedicated with love to the Hannahs on my flist):

OH HANNAH
YOU ARE NOT A SPANNER
EVERYONE ELSE IS AN ALSO-RANNER
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

For my housemate from Nottingham and her unrhymable name:

OH RACH
OWING TO SOUTHERN INFLUENCE YOU NO LONGER DROP YOUR 'H'...S
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

For myself (yes, I composed a Valentine's Day poem for myself), and possibly the worst of the lot due to slightly unfortunate rhyming:

OH HARRIET
JOIN ME IN MY CHARIOT
LOTS OF LOVE FROM JUDAS ISCARIOT
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

If you would like an appalling poem, let me know in the comments! (If you give me your name and/or nicknames as well, that might make things easier.)

I almost added this into my previous entry, but I felt I was editing it a little too much, so I'm saying it here instead. In The Mentalist: Revealed:

Robin Tunney: Every guest star that comes on, I say, 'Hey, when you meet Simon, tell him that your mother thinks he's a real fox.'

Owain Yeoman: We'd say to the guest stars, 'You may feel like the air conditioning is broken. It's not the air conditioning; it's just Simon's on the set, and it's the heat. You're feeling the heat. You're being baked by the Baker right now.'

I think I may possibly be a bit in love with this cast.

(There's something a bit sad about the shift in one's perception that occurs when watching a series after having seen the actors out of character, though. Patrick Jane seems more real before one sees proof that this Simon Baker fellow really exists. CLEARLY PATRICK JANE IS BAKER'S AMERICAN TWIN. Ooh, or Baker is Jane's secret identity.)

New personal canon: when Patrick Jane comes up with a particularly brilliant way of catching a criminal, he has been known to kiss his reflection in the mirror. Cho has a video of this on his mobile phone. He occasionally threatens to use it as blackmail, despite knowing that Jane doesn't really care who sees it.

Lisbon is adorable in 'Red Badge'. Adorable! I wish to give her many hugs. And it is such a lovely Jane/Lisbon episode (he strokes her haaaair)!

'Life is a game,' says Jane. I think that sounds rather Luxord-ish, don't you?

I think what we must conclude from this is that Derren Brown is the Heartless, Luxord is (obviously) the Nobody, and Patrick Jane is the original human. It's just sad that Jane doesn't have the physical resemblance Brown and Luxord have, because otherwise this theory works perfectly. (Well, and his name isn't 'Rould'.)

Red John is totally going to turn out to be Luxord.

Whilst I'm in smalltext, it's time for another edition of Confusing Things I Have Discovered In My Notebook:

they're Lisbon and the Jane
yes, Lisbon and the Jane
one is a genius
but also insane
they're with the CBI
an agent and some guy
they're Lisbon; they're Lisbon and the Jane, Jane, Jane, Jane, Jane, Jane, Jane, Jane, Jane

I... I don't know.

I have now seen the final episode of the fifth season of House, and oh, oh, I love Cameron so much. When she fell into Chase's arms and cried! She is so adorable! I felt some of the adorability that first drew me to Cameron disappeared around the third season, so it was good to see her and think '♥ ♥ ♥' again. I'd like to go back at some point to rewatch the first two seasons, in which my mind was full of ♥ ♥ ♥ every time she was on the screen.

Speaking of ♥ ♥ ♥: I am now out of the torture cell in Metal Gear Solid, and OTACON YOU ARE SO ADORABLE. She likes dogs! She must be a good person! Please don't hurt her! SHE SHOT ME ABOUT FIFTY TIMES, OTACON.

(I keep calling Otacon 'Ocelot'. They are very different characters. Ocelot is probably a cat person, for one thing.)

Of course, Otacon is not the only one being a bit ridiculous in that scene. Snake, if you want someone to help you out of a cell, there are more helpful things you could do than grabbing his shoulders through the bars and yelling at him. If Otacon can't move, he can't help you. I'm just saying. (Not that he was particularly helpful anyway. Well, yes, all right, he was unintentionally useful, but I still love that Snake calls Otacon up to say 'I AM IN A CELL, HELP ME' and Otacon's response is 'o hay I brought you some lunch.')

Finally: yes, all right, keeping half an eye on the walkthrough at all times is a shameful way to play a game. But I am quite glad of my cowardice at this moment, because otherwise my chances of spotting the time bomb Ocelot left amongst my items would have been exactly zero. (Why am I so terrible at this game? It is distressing. I accidentally throw the guards every time I attempt a choke-hold. Every time!

I suppose I should give up the walkthrough, if only because 'AUGH I JUST GOT BLOWN UP AGAIN' entries will probably amuse you more than 'disaster was narrowly averted!' ones. Sadists.)

...asdjhsfdffgh I was just half-watching The Simpsons and suddenly realised that Otacon reminds me of Mr Smithers. I DON'T KNOW WHY.

Strange Things I Have Discovered In ~~My Notebook~~ Notepad Files On My Computer:

OH ODDISH
YOU ARE SO CLODDISH
I SHOULD HIT YOU WITH SOMETHING RODDISH
AS PUNISHMENT FOR BREAKING THAT ODD DISH.

Am I going to be the second female Poet Laureate? All signs point to 'doubtful'.

(Also:

OH GOD IT IS A PSYDUCK
WHERE
OH GOD IT HAS A PYRAMID HEAD
PYRAMID PSYDUCK
PSYCHIC PYRAMID (DUCK) HEAD
THE FEAR
THE HORROR
AUGH
AUUUUUUUUUUUUGH

I was going to say 'AS IF PYRAMID HEAD WEREN'T BAD ENOUGH WITHOUT PSYCHIC POWERS', and then the thought occurred that perhaps Pyramid Head is Derren Brown and now I just want to hide in a cupboard.

(This was, incidentally, part of a method for remembering that Psyduck is number 54 in National Pokédex order. It makes sense, I swear.))

apiphile has had what I think is a rather lovely idea: write out a poem and leave it lying around for strangers to find. The poem, Poem For The Person Who Finds This Poem, is here, if you'd like to get involved yourself.

(Poetry and I haven't really got on for most of my life, and I always assumed that this was because I simply wasn't a poetry person, rather than a case of not yet having discovered the right poet.

As it turned out,

apiphile was the right poet, and I am heartily in favour of spreading her words around.)

I really haven't been able to write lately, which is distressing. I suspect this may be because I have developed an interest in too many things lately and cannot settle on one fandom.

In an attempt to remedy this, I am going to steal a prompt table from

1sentence and write a little bit about everything that is clamouring for my attention, in the hope of clearing some space in my mind for a longer work.

And if it doesn't work, well, at least I'll have written something.

(As this isn't actually for the community, I reserve the right to exceed one sentence should I feel the need.)

I've filled twenty prompts below; I may or may not attempt the remaining thirty later. Organised by fandom, rather than prompt number. Fandoms represented are DN Angel (a tiny bit), Derren Brown, Silent Hill (in a crossover with Derren Brown), Kingdom Hearts, Merlin, Death Note, Top Gear, Iji (is there even an Iji fandom?) and Hetalia. Also,

sos_your_face appears in one of them.

( DN Angel )

( Derren Brown )

( Kingdom Hearts )

( Merlin )

( Death Note )

( Top Gear )

( Iji )

( Hetalia )

My lack of posting for the past few days can be blamed on panic over an essay and a test, both for today and both now finished. GLORIOUS FREEDOM. I'm not terribly happy with the essay, but the test (although I did run out of time on the last question) went better than I was expecting, and I genuinely believe that this can be attributed entirely to my receiving the following e-mail from

th_esaurus this morning:

HAY RIONA HAY HAY HAY
YOU HAVE GOT AN EXAM TODAY!
IT'S OKAY, IT'S ALL FINE
JUST REMEMBER TO GO ON TIME!
WEAR A SMILE, NOT A FROWN
GET THOSE ANSWERS WRITTEN DOWN!
MODERN ENGLISH IS A BLAST
TXT SPEAK, LOLCATS, IDIOMS PAST

IF YOU GET STUCK (UNLIKELY ANYWAY)
JUST WRITE ABOUT THE HOMOGAY!

I love my friends so much.

You know 'Talk Like a Pirate Day' and 'Talk Like a Hypello Day' and 'Talk in Al Bhed Day', which I've never heard of but which probably exists? Why isn't there a 'Talk in Rhyming Couplets' day? Actually, scratch that: why don't we just talk in rhyming couplets all the time?

(For those curious, the title of this entry is an anagram of 'Because Talking In Anagrams Would Just Be Frustrating'. SEE HOW PRODUCTIVELY I SPEND MY TIME WHEN I HAVE FINISHED MY WORK.)

I am supposed to be reading the 1799 Prelude and one of its later (and much, much longer) revisions this week. I have been neglecting this somewhat, because dude, three essays, The Prelude can wait (NO, OBVIOUSLY UPDATING MY LIVEJOURNAL CANNOT, ahahaha oh dear I'm such a bad student), but I found this part at the beginning of the 1799 version and felt compelled to share it with you:

Sometimes strong desire
Resistless overpowered me, and the bird
Which was the captive of another's toils
Became my prey; and when the deed was done
I heard among the solitary hills
Low breathings coming after me, and sounds
Of undistinguishable motion, steps
Almost as silent as the turf they trod.

WORDSWORTH IN SILENT HILL, YOU GUYS. I shouldn't be allowed near, well, anything. Is there anything at all in my life that Silent Hill hasn't crept into somehow?

For reasons of which I am not quite sure,
This is in iambic pentameter.
My slightly stupid choice of form aside,
I’m really craving Jack-slash-Ten right now
And I have also started on King Lear
(I think that I have just messed up that line –
Does Lear have one syllable or two?
And yes, I blame Shakespeare entirely for
Bizarreifying this LJ post’s form)
And also reading Arthur Conan Doyle
And Sherlock Holmes is such a Gary Stu.
I think I’d like to punch him in the face.

You may have guessed that I’m extremely bored
As I seem to have been these past few days.
I think, perhaps, to cure this sad affair,
I should try writing fanfic in this form.
However, I don’t think I could resist
Including, in whatever I should write,
The really quite fantastic final line:
‘Alas, he has been eaten by a squid.’
No, it is better that I stick to posts.
I’m sure that you will all agree with this.
Also that you can't wait for my next one,
Which may or may not be sestina-shaped.*

* The ‘may not’ seems more likely, I’m afraid.
Now entertain me in the comments, please?
(You do not have to use poetic forms
Although they would make you ten times more cool.)

Current Mood: alas for I am really very bore
Current Music: the 'mood' field should have ended with a 'd'.

(Our group in Turkey consisted of twelve people, seven of them between the ages of eleven and seventeen. Ergo: chaos. But enjoyable chaos.

For full comprehension of this post, a quick guide to the people mentioned:

Matthew is the elder of my cousins.
Patrick is the younger cousin. Fergus is Patrick's friend. Both are fifteen years old.
Fred is the younger of my brothers at eleven. Joseph is my other brother - he's fourteen, three years younger than me, but I can't call him my 'little brother' because he is freakishly tall. That's his middle name: Joseph 'Freakishly Tall' Evans. Nick is Joseph's friend.
Harriet is my real name.
Random Boat Guy is some random guy who works on a boat.)

Ah, Turkey. A holiday filled with ( unfortunate booking incidents, )( belly-dancing, )( scorching heat, )( problems with plumbing, )( creepy waiters, )( dogs, )( getting drunk for the first time in one's life, )( shag band shenanigans, )( people who ogle nine-year-olds, )( people who run onto the beach and yell 'I NEED A SHAG!', ) and ( people who write obscene songs about total strangers ) (these last three all, incidentally, referring to the same person).

And I loved every minute of it, excepting ( the minutes during which I was terrified that I had allowed my cousin and friend to get killed, )and the twenty-four hours between my cousins and Fergus' (by now all firmly on the list of People I Unconditionally Love) leaving and our own, during which I was rather morose and also had indigestion. ( Sorry, did I say twenty-four hours? )

( Footnotes. )

And now I'm off to catch up on a fortnight's worth of LJ posts! Hurrah!

(EDIT: Wow, reading this over again... we all sound so debauched. It's a little scary, actually. This is why I don't usually post about my Real Life, methinks. My friends, family and I are all good people, really! I swear!)

Stolen from

la_lonelyangel:

If you have any, post your unique livejournal interests in an entry. They're the ones that are greyed out, because you're the only one that has them listed.

(complete with explanations of the interests, because hey, rambling! and also because several of them make no sense at all.)

( On Stealing Injokes and Other Things )

Katamari Damacy is not coming out in Europe.

...WHOEVER IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS IS MEAN AND MAKES ME SAD.

Also, almost as soon as I put up the ficrequest meme, a friend of mine actually requested that I write the 32,000-word poem on the beauty of cockroaches.

In conclusion: EVERYONE IS EVIL.

(he walked into the corridor and stared in horror at the mould
that caked the walls, water dripping steadily, the graffiti scrawled
across the long-abandoned building, and for reasons he knew not
there was unnerving, creepy music rising in the background and
the clicks and whirrs and chirrups of some insect that he could not see
it scuttled into the half-light, and his breath was taken away
although not literally (a common misconception, this is
Silent Hill after all) for now he saw that it was a cockroach
of all-surpassing beauty, I'm sorry, I can't stop cracking up.)

Incidentally, I can now recognise when Waiting For You is about to play on GamingFM because I've memorised exactly what the cheering at the beginning sounds like. I AM SUCH A DORK.

Current Mood: beauty of cockroaches
Current Music: Waiting For You ~LIVE at Heaven's Night~

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Entries tagged with poetry

Did He Smile His Work To See?

The Artwork, Incidentally, Is Beautiful.

Why Are Pirates Pirates? Because They Arrr.

The Wind In Your Hair, The Wasps In Your Throat.

I'd Also Written A Thank-You Letter To Myself From The Zoombinis.

I'm Sure You Taste Fine.

'Poetry Hour With Riona's Family' Would Be Fairly Unsuccessful.

Extreme Romance.

Wha-- What Are These Australians?

If You Don't Like Cats, You'll Hate Two Cats.

Inspired Only In Part By Yahtzee.

These Are My Clothes, Which I Normally Wear On Me.

A Futurist Bed Just Masking An Ascertainable Gnu. Growl.

You Know The Furies Made Orestes Hallucinate His Way Through Silent Hill.

A Quite Ridiculously Pointless Post.

(no subject)

Now that I think about it, almost nothing on the list makes sense.

(no subject)

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