Heh, another good run.

I got back a while ago, and so I ran in the dark for my mile and a half. I'm sweating like crazy; today I ran a lot faster than yesterday. It was really nice outside, and some houses were giving off some wonderful and strange smells...laundry perhaps? One of them smelled like the inside of the Nashville Main Library, and I like the way that place smells, so it was a nice run, overall.

And also, while running, I concieved several songs, one named after my partner in this run, thus the song is called The Night. I also wrote a few more songs: 92, Close My Eyes, Redblood, Hellshined, The Wailing Wall, and You'll Never Know. It was something else, having such a creativity spree. There isn't anything quite like touching pen to paper and watching everything you want to come out, actually come out. Sometimes I'll sit there and fumble with words and ideas, never getting a clear picture of what I want. And then, there are times like these when it just happens, my mind clicks and everything is right for a second, and it isn't painful to write these songs. A few of those off of Bitter and mostly all of the songs on the proposed and scrapped second album, Oh Morose, were ones where I sat in front of the pad wanting to yell because something in my brain sparks up and it triggers all my depression and unhappiness. These gave exactly the same dose of morosity and darkness of the other songs, minus the whole great payment part.

I'm thinking of calling this next project Dust & Shadows, because it seems like the most prominent songs of this album were concieved under such circumstances; for instance, we recently had a window cut into a new room on the side of the house. The resultant sawdust landed on the ground in front of the garage and was blown around, forming a perfect 92 in the aggregate. Of course, the song has nothing to do with the dust swirl; rather, the time during which I saw the dust sign, and related its oddness to that point in my life. And shadows...I write most of my songs in the near dark, or work them out in my brain right before I doze off every night, or while running or sitting outside after the sun goes down, or while sitting under a tree and whatnot.

These new songs have a lot less to do with loss like the first set does and more with the feeling depression gives, especially Hellshined and Close My Eyes. What a relief to know that I can still write and keep my sanity.

O, I remember what it was that I wanted to say this morning.

My dreams have turned simply crazy. They've been really weird now, no deaths as of late, but the little shadow figure is still there. He makes himself other people. Like the other day I was a fugitive and he was the lead detective of the FBI, chasing me down. No death, no guns, but something about the pursuit was foremost weird, with an undertone of haunting.

I believe I resolved yesterday's mystery, but I can't be certain.

Somehow I became lead plot designer and an actor for the video project. I hate it, having a talent with voices, I can just hear them and do it, I can assimilate any situation somehow...of course, this time, it screwed me over. Having to write plotlines and whatnot.

And lastly, the God story is coming along just nicely, and wonderfully sacreligiously. Just wait til I get to the Jesus part, I'll bet a few of you will stop reading.

Happy April all.

Begrudgingly, it's just one of those forgetful days.

I had something I wanted to type in here, but I forgot it. Of course it wasn't important, but still.

I'm working on a story for Elftown. I figure since I'm taking up space with my presence there, I might as well contribute a little, with the best thing I know how to do in the way of art...writing. It was a pretty crazy idea, but I came up with it in the shower this morning (as I do with all crazy ideas). To write the history of man through the eyes of God. Of course, God is a cynic and thinks all human ideas and religions have completely lost it. He toys with his power, he explains the concept of creation and reason for the world's greatest disasters: the Flood, the Black Plague, the Holocaust, and so on, he explains his own creation and the creation of the universe in the best way he knows how...which is, of course, not at all.

It won't be very long. Mostly, it will show coincidences between the plane of God and the mortal realm, and why God think about things the way he does. You might be thinking, "This is probably some staidly religious story, isn't it?" Let me assure you, if God isn't the way he is in this story, and more in the biblical vein of God, I'm going to fry forever. But it's a great idea, I think. Who'd have ever though of the story of the world from the vantage point of the one who made it...slightly twisting commonly accepted ideals about God, however that may be.

This might take a little longer than I thought, though. It's sort of hard to make God sound assured of his power without being overly cocky. I just need to make him sound like he knows he is badass, because he is.

And trust in this, it's hard to do it without lapsing into a few lines of God's laughing uproariously at humanity, because it sounds like he's on the verge of it in this story most of the time.

Elfwood, what a fun place.

Last night I got on and someone actually signed my guestbook. It's only been a thousand years since I created it.

Chloe was almost lost today. SADNESS.

My mom came to my grandmother's, where I stay after school, and tells me that the guest of the house, good ol' Puss, was missing, perhaps slipped out of a small hole in the back screen door, when, of course, the storm door was opened. I was confident that she would come back, never thinking that she could be in the house. Well, as we come home, I walk'd up the stairs, calling for Chloe the whole time, and Katie happened to say, "Hey, Cloe". It turns out, she was sleeping behind the TV all afternoon and happened to poke a head out to say hello, whereafter she came out and went to play with Camille.

I have rediscovered Alice in Chains. I put in Facelift today since I'd wanted to hear It Ain't Like That, and I ended up listening to the whole thing. WOW. It was really good, so I listened to it again whilst cutting the grass. As for the grass...

The motor stalled twice on the damn. The grass in the ditch is massively grown from the great rains of the winter, I suppose, and our prolong-ed wait in cutting it. The second time it stalled, it also decided that had too little gas to carry on, which was probably the focal reason for its stopping. So I'm left with a mostly cut yard, all except for the stretch in the ditch, which is the longest part. How ANNOYING! I'm a completionist, things have to be done or I don't feel right. When I pull out of the drive tomorrow to go to school I'll probably look over and have a schizoid episode followed by a heart attack.

Diablo II is a great game, I've come to find. I've been playing it a lot lately. Level 23 Druid, I need one more level before I have enough strength to wear Plate Mail. Heh, as if you all cared.

By the way, who called my cellphone on Monday around noon? Give me a call or something, I got your message and it sounded like "Lindsey" or "Lizzie", and I know it couldn't be Lindsey Reid because of the time, Lindsey, my sister's friend, because she doesn't have this number and she hates me, to top it all off, and I don't know any Lizzies...at least I guess I don't. And if it was someone else, I apologize, I just couldn't make it out. Someone is talking at the end, and they say something like "who the fuck..."...I forgot the rest, but it sounds an awful lot like me. I played it for Kenzie and she said, "Dude, it sounds just like you!". We went through the list of suspects and couldn't figure out who it was.

GOD, curiosity, such bliss and suffering, you have bagg-ed your cat.

Well guys, I tell you now: I am more tired than ever.

Yes, the dreams again. Still I've constantly got them. They feature people in my everyday-thoughts: it's just that as the dreams progress, they metamorphisize, something about them changes. They grow slits for eyes, they become dismembered. Either this, or they have subtle changes: their hair gets longer, their eyes change color, their height changes. Something always changes. And always, something in the dream is not as it is supposed to be; rather, it defies my everyday outlook upon these same people: for example, people whom I see to be talkative and generally like me become withdrawn and quiet, and it is these that change the most, first with subtlety, and then progressing. Others, whom I see to hate me are my best friends, I've had girlfriends I'd never thought to be as such in these dreams. And it goes the other way too: people I hate, I like them, and vice versa. People die, people get killed in front of me, there tends to be a little shadow that sits in other peoples' shadows and kills them when a conversation or events are starting to get really exciting or someone thinks that they're about to die somehow. And sometimes it's just quiet. And others, it's just standing around talking about random stuff while the people change and other, background people die, or arbitrarily stand there as I and the subject do.

Sorry for drawing this out so much, but these just have to stop. Everytime I wake up from one I sit there and think, O, it was just a dream, at first, and then I start to think, Was it?, and that's when the panic starts to set in, and I have to sit in place holding my head and staring out the window, trying to get it out of my brain. Last night's had one good one and three semi-bad ones. The good one had to do with kites and rain and people dressed strangely. The others had to do with that shadow killing off some of my best friends. Yes readers, to sate your curiosity, all of you have strangely died in these dreams, they've been going on for the past three weeks or so, and my brain has had enough time to deal a mortal blow to each of you, at least, the ones I know that read this. That, and/or you've been strangely disfigured as the dream goes on, and I must say, you all can turn into some strange things.

Cut the shit so I can get some sleep, guys, please? OK, so I'm kidding, it's only mines fault. Just bear with the next few posts, these will go on until the next thing happens, I think, and it always does.

It's never been long before, has it?

I have a few things to say. Firstly, is parthenophobia. This is, primarily, an incurable fear of virgins.

Nextly is sexophobia, which is fear of the opposite sex.

And lastly is nihilism, less a phobia and more an outlook on life, epitomizing pessimism, which focuses on the idea that life is entirely hopeless. Sounds like someone I know?

Yeah yeah, you can all put your fingers down now.

GET ME OUT OF HERE.

I am back in school, of course; help me die, everyone.

Jesus.