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r1ng0fyr3
R3-1M4y3r
ArtisticSchmidt
brokenwalls
mortobesaid
jacoja06
rufus23
salamandre
Gibsono
homeonice
theinfinatesadness
jacoja06
spinDASH-
rufus23
Inkthinker
salamandre
arnistotle
tracyjb
Endling
sweetmoon
Gibsono
theinfinatesadness
homeonice
Nicevenn
mona-chan
phyzer
Collection
Favourites
Deviation Spotlight
Deviation Spotlight
Artist
- Australia
- Deviant for 18 years
- He / Him
Badges
My Bio
Current Residence: Perth
Favourite genre of music: Good music
Favourite style of art: Gonzo
Personal Quote: If it ain't broke, I did it.
Favourite genre of music: Good music
Favourite style of art: Gonzo
Personal Quote: If it ain't broke, I did it.
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Tom Waits
Favourite Writers
Lewis Carrol or Mervyn Peake
Favourite Games
A tie between chess backgamon and poker
Tools of the Trade
Watercolour pencils (Is there anything they can't do?)
Ulthawaelus must be stopped!
0 min read
"Papa?"
There was an old man and a young boy sitting cross-legged at the edge of the dock. The man was fixing nets, and the boy was trying to do the same. The man worked methodically and efficiently, his fingers splicing and melting the ropes back together in the blink of an eye. The boy had managed to entangle himself, and was discretely trying to free his hand from the mess without his father noticing that he had gotten stuck in the first place. This is why he was whistling, and lightly shaking his limp wrist, as if bored. He didn't want to attract the disapproval of the guru.
"Papa, why must we do this.?"
It was a cold morning, and the
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A Confession of Sorts
0 min read
I have been doing a lot of thinking lately. The thinking starts in my lower back, where it gets all tense, ready for a beating. It then climbs up into my head, where on account of atmospheric pressure and unfavorable weather conditions in general, it gets all heavy and starts to feel sick. I find that it is always best to let it out at this point. Released, it seeps out of the cracks in my brain. Those little fuzzy wrinkles they showed me in Biology have a purpose after all. It slips down my arms and into my fingers, which grow limp and wet with thought until all my thinking is gone. If I flick my hands hard enough, maybe snap my thumb and mi
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In dark and creaking caverns, where a sound can live for years, slowly wandering, restless. Where those old machines machines crumble. Their gears and pumps and forges have seen no steam for generations. And yet, there is movement still, from the rats that live between slabs of grey stone or the owls whose permanence would embarrass time itself. There is a rythm that comes from bellow that will sustain all these things for all time. It is the thumb-beat of an entire race, a people who live beneath their own legacy. For it was their city that they left there so abandoned, for even those depths held not the security and comfort that they crave.
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Profile Comments 212
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Your death has been noted.
Please remain still while your inactive account is collected.
Thank you for your existence.
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The final coincidence: one day after the arrival of the journal containing both the remarkable announcement that the 1985 Israfel Society Conference had been transferred from Baltimore to Beaunos Aires, my cat Aleph died. Not from any discernable cause, but merely out of consideration for the old bachelor who had taken him in. Aleph was the only obstacle to my making the trip, beacuse, now that my Aunt Raquel had gone into a home, there was no one I could leave him with. Aleph's death convinced me not to miss the never-to-be-repeated opportunity. Yet his all too convienient demise failed to arouse my suspicions.
Everything that happened to me in Buenos Aires I owe, in some way, to Aleph's death. Or to geographical destiny. Or to the God behind the God who moves the God who moves the players who moves the pieces and begins the round of dust and time and sleep and dying in your poem, Jorge. Or to the designs of an ancient plot set in motion exactly four hundred years ago in the library of the King of Bohemia. Or merely to the trapped animal's unconscious feelings of respect for a well-made trap and a desire not to disappoint the person who went to so much trouble to set it...
My role is to see, describe and, now, write about what I saw. Someone or something is using me to untangle the tangled plot over whose direction I have as little influence as the pen has over the poets who wield it, or man over the gods who manipulate him, or the knife over the murderer. A plot whose denouement lies in your hands, Jorge.
Or should I say "in your tail".
Everything that happened to me in Buenos Aires I owe, in some way, to Aleph's death. Or to geographical destiny. Or to the God behind the God who moves the God who moves the players who moves the pieces and begins the round of dust and time and sleep and dying in your poem, Jorge. Or to the designs of an ancient plot set in motion exactly four hundred years ago in the library of the King of Bohemia. Or merely to the trapped animal's unconscious feelings of respect for a well-made trap and a desire not to disappoint the person who went to so much trouble to set it...
My role is to see, describe and, now, write about what I saw. Someone or something is using me to untangle the tangled plot over whose direction I have as little influence as the pen has over the poets who wield it, or man over the gods who manipulate him, or the knife over the murderer. A plot whose denouement lies in your hands, Jorge.
Or should I say "in your tail".
Holla back to Yasmine 
sorry.
i spent half my evening trying to get to 3333 page views to appease luke or anyone else with a palindrome/repeated number fetish. why i'm sorry i'm not sure.
continue forth!
p.s. you might get a favourite... i'm rather aroused... by the pictures, obviously.
i spent half my evening trying to get to 3333 page views to appease luke or anyone else with a palindrome/repeated number fetish. why i'm sorry i'm not sure.
continue forth!
p.s. you might get a favourite... i'm rather aroused... by the pictures, obviously.
its like mother fuckr. DO NOT WANT
OM NOM NOM NOM!
OM NOM NOM NOM!
Hey! You seem to be really busy nowadays huh? Busy busy Robin. Too busy to reply my message hmmmm!! 
What's up? We miss you here in Sri Utama!
What's up? We miss you here in Sri Utama!