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2009 - February


The month starts at half pace, got to take my Sunday my ways, faded down inspiration flowing round swallowing down all troubles focusing only on goals. Reviving my energy, filling my soul with flow, slowing down normal tempo and glowing like the SUN! Don't you know, you can't speak this in normal rhythm or it will sound like crack, just speed up certain parts of the textury and restart and it will all sound whack. Another month with brand new goals I'm all over it yo I'm back. Rattattattattaaaa, and I'll bring my attack, strike you down with my lack.


Of rhythm. Symbols all over the sound, flying over gravel coated ground, we spin round and round, rounder rounder out of bounds we pound through the stone walls bonk through concrete break them all surprised disguises make them fall like open mine shafts I'll be right back. Swoop down sleep now like a floor, never alive, never awake, never more. It's been cleaned so many times, rubbed out are those fine lines, sparkling linoleum platter it just can't get much better, too much batter makes you fatter bloats your bladder your coat your sweater, go on a diet, flatline letters.


Received an email from this guy I was planning on buying an electric guitar from this Friday telling me it wasn't going to happen. I looked for new ads and found a friggin amazing one for just 600kr, called it in, am waiting for a reply now, we just need to schedule a meet and I can go pay for it and start learning how to play this shit. Really really looking forward to it! On a separate note, seems I sprained my ankle sometime earlier this week, hurts like hell today, I have no idea when this tragedy occurred.


The ankle sprainage baffles me, maybe I managed to twist it in some strange way in my sleep? Now that I can shut down alarmclocks in my sleep, it seems, why not? Hah, for such a talented individual as I there are no impossibilities! Regardless, it is pretty strange. The electrically guitarifying plan didn't go so well as I hoped it to, she found another buyer before me, who bought it without delay, and now I'm left here without guitar to pay. Anyhow, I'll keep searching, temporary downstreams like this should only give me the recoil I need to bounce back up again, BANZAI!


Woah, GTA SA sure is a great game. I've probably spent at least a full month playing it by now, but it still never wears out, I never do get tired of it. The rate at which the modifications by unofficial sources for the game keep popping up has slowed down much since the 4th game came out, but they are still arriving, and the new CLEO technology is getting better than ever before. Coding custom missions can now be done through graphical interface, and saved independent from the main game files so that they can be shared and played by everyone without inflicting upon differently modified game files or size.


I just got back to modding GTA SA today, after a many month break due to my last attempt failing as with all the ones before it, seems like I haven't used the right programs, that and the fact that my computer really can't handle the intense additions, or maybe the game itself can't handle the changes, my last try almost doubled the original game size, retextures for maybe half the game areas, new vehicles, effects and a great amount of packed in tools came with it. Now, I've revived the project again and am systematically building it back up.


The new master mod will be once again made from scratch, taking sections from the last version that work, getting everything organized, adding more and more, revising, changing, making everything better. The last version with hundreds of new vehicles and MAJOR changes didn't even make it public! This one will, though, I'm sure of it, filesize is already over the double but it's still running smoothly, no bugs in sight that I can't squash, no games crashing without appearant reason. I'm working on integrating all CLEO mods I can get a hold of, changing keys so duplicates disappear.


Oh the days come and go, all to fast, when you work with things you like. I stayed up until 1 last night even though I knew I should have gone to sleep earlier, intensive cold on the way, yet I kept modding GTA SA as I loved to do, and after a heavy sleep with combined nightmares and occasional bursts of joyousness I woke up with a soar throat, tired and in need of a days rest. So guess what I'm doing now? Well yeah, obviously, what could I possibly do, other than keep modding GTA SA of course!


It's cold in this room I'm sitting in, but I think my computer and the candle I just lit should be warming it up in no time at all. I have an intense cold falling down upon me, and my suddenly sleepless nights don't make it much better, this is the third day I go to bed after 1 and still wake up early, not much more than six hours heavy sleeping at most, and I don't feel good, my head is heavy as a superwhooper and feels like it's going to roll of my shoulders at any minute now.


When the ten comes, and then some, days hit the floor, the days pass, the days go, then the days run on some more. I sit i my chair and think about how they go, I do what I do as the days slowly flow, is time just another concept? Caught under gods holy glow? If he exists, I wonder if I'd miss, if I smacked him with my fist, so the sparks flew, my swishling fuse. Don't know what hit me though, came walking down those stairs, intense as a mitten yo, but really who cares.


Some days go fast and some days go slow, some days go faster some days just go, away! Up to the sky, and stay! Somewhere up high, delayed! All in my mind, portrayed! What's left behind, we saved! And we live on, today! It's all we have, we take! From it each time, we wake! But when we sleep, our time stands still, will it ever move on? I wonder if it will, it might just be a concept, our lives just fifty or less, the lives we live with time caress say we are blessed, do we just curse ourselves?


Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock


I had a vision, I think I had it in my mind, but when I woke up it was gone and once again I was so blind, unable to find, unable to see, all that I want to become when everyone expects I'll be, somebody else, than just myself, we humans are, a really strange race. We expect to be, instead of being just beings and we live recklessly instead just seeing decieveings everyday and all that passes and all that we bring on, I can't seem to find the time to just go mow my front lawn this day.


Can't find time to mow my frontlawn, and the back one is forgotten, truly life is rotten, fluffy stuffy like puffs of cotton jiffy. I'll be there in a buckshot, but I'll feel a bit stiff see, as if I was a buckshot, don't fish my dish for wishes, don't swim there with the fishes. I'm entitled to my title, life is important, signs are vital, I'm designated to be slightly overportrayed in my time in my decade. My words sometimes flow together much better, than anyone else can convoy, but sometimes I just rip them to pieces deployed.


If our time is just a whiff of air, then it truly seems like we sink in despair, I can't breath can't see can't sink deeply because I'm so shallow I reap what I lack see, all of us, we know our stuff, we seem to know, we shine we glow, we want to be, velocity, pick up the pace, the life we face, all that we are, we went to far, we shine like stars, afloat in the sky, we watch life pass by and we ride for remedy and I know what I'll become when I pretend to be. Somebody else but my self.


I woke up this day with hopes in mind, a bright light inside my head, visions to find. I planned last night to guy my guitar, to ride not with train and to roll not with car, but to walk on my feet, across pavement streets, but today I feel like, these expectations I cannot meet! Just after this morning early walk I feel a bit dead, my head feels heavy and my legs weigh like led. So, maybe I'll stay home a bit and study man who knows get over it or go by train it aint so far and grab me my guitar!


“Come on, Lurch,” I said. “You know this game better than I do. The whole damn city’s full of national Phil finalists who got exactly as far as I did but didn’t make the money spots, and most of them are filling water glasses and serving tiramisu right now. My bad luck they didn’t want mezzos this year, that’s all.” I glowered at him. “What’s it to you, anyway? You the traveling therapist they’re sending round to make sure none of the losers go home and open a vein?” And, that's how the ground sounds for "Curtain Call, Action FanFic".


He ignored me. “I see you’re not staying in town.”

“Stay here? You’re kidding, right?” I cast another glance at the sign marked ‘Cincinnati’. “I’m going back to Ohio to pack my apartment.”

“What then?”

I shrugged. “I’ve got a summer stock gig in Boulder. Everything I don’t take with me goes into storage.”

His brown eyes were narrow and shrewd. “And after that?”

“Hell if I know,” I said. I had a headache left over from last night’s consolation binge, heavy and dull and grasping at the backs of my eyes with its dirty fingernails. “Do some more auditions"


"find a day job. House-sit. Walk dogs. Sell real-estate.”

“Seems a shame.”

“Yeah, well, everybody says that. But nobody’s got better ideas.”

“I’ve got one,” Cogliano said. “If you’re in the mood to hear it.”

I looked over at him. He was sitting very straight in the rumpled grey suit, his shoulders at a perfect parallel with the floor. His posture reminded me of my father’s; the Major never sat in a soft chair if he could find one with a straight back.

His pants fit, but his jacket was half a size too big. I narrowed my eyes.


I was looking for a telltale bulge at the armpit. I couldn’t tell, but then that’s why he was wearing it roomy. Ten to one he had a shoulder holster on underneath.

“You’re not a theatrical agent,” I said, leaning back. “You’re military. Career. I should have known it the minute I saw those damn sunglasses.”

The pupils of his eyes dilated slightly, but his expression didn’t change. “Good guess. You’re not right, but you’re not far wrong.”

“Ex-military, then. Government.” I slung my arm over the back of the bench and looked him up and down. “Pentagon.”




That got a thin smile out of him. “No.“ “Well, you’re sure as hell not from the National Endowment for the Arts.” I gestured over my shoulder toward the loading bay. “Not that I care. Line’s getting longer, and the least I can get out of this disaster of a trip is a seat to myself. We’re going to have to do this another time.”

“It won’t wait.”

“I don’t care,” I said, standing up. “I don’t want any part of it.”

“Do you want a singing career?”


If she wanted one or not, you will never know.


Action, Biography, Horror, Humor, Fable, Kids, Fantasy, General, Historical, Romance, Spiritual, Sci-Fi, Western, Young-Adult, Supernatural, Thriller, Western, Mystery, Manga, Play, Poetry, and More, with a total of over 400,000 writings, all over at Fiction Press, a database and community of the new authors, the next generation, the coming era. There is a lot worth reading, and hopefully my stuff will be there as well, as readable as all others, as soon as I write something other than pieces of phrase. Though poetry is a bit part, it will for my career not be a start, I need to devour the great art, of writing other material. Spawn number 2635748 to keep reading the above.


Well hello there! Let me introduce myself, my name is Bob Axell, I am a poet, a deviant, a webmaster, a current scholar underprocess, I'm writing one poem for each day of this year, I write blogs every once in a while, I write stories sometimes, and I write one hundred words for this site every morning, sometimes when I have time, overall always in line. And occasionally I wonder why, what do I gain from writing here? Will I ever read these short notes again? Will anyone else? Do I wrote about something meaningful? Or is it a waste?


Never a second still, never a day to waste away at will, I don't recklessly consume pills, infact I resent to consume them and still, I live in a world where medicine is a thrill, where we live everday with our heads on a grill, its getting hotter and hotter and we just stray with thoughts astray under coulds so grey throwing out numerous remarkable arrays. Of formulas, theories, articles, notions, marketables, commercials, shipments, emotion, not much, not more, nothing worth the search for. Nothing worth the worth, our worth defined by paper, better now than later, fade to dust.


I bought a guitar sometime this month, have started playing it. No real songs yet, just halfly composed ones, some chords, some own experimentation, mostly I just press the strings as hard as possible and run a few monotonous combinations to gather up my finger strengthulars. They're getting better already, after maybe a week of pressure I don't feel as much on my finger tips, typing feels so much easiers, they keyboard feels softer in a way, and of course I can play longer without my fingers starting to ache. It's been building up nicely! Practice keeps taking timely tolls.


My guitar, I love the distortion, I'm against abortion, but also against the principle of banning something that people should have a right to do if they like to do so. I don't have much opinionry, I keep my options silenced, keep my opinions violent, stay with the flow, portray what must go, down, up, left, right, everything that always swiftly reaches out to me and rises down or up from the ground the vibes the heat the flyies that meet my eyes in midair and dry like weat so far away, and yet so complete, I speak, only wisdom, only words, of wisdom.


Oh how the days go, oh how the days fly, and above is the blue, vast, unreachable sky. I can't go there today, I can't even get near, I can just sit here and stare at our atmosphere. Is there lies in my mind, are they lying there inside, just waiting to come out and leave all troubles behind, I can't picture it then and I can't picture it now, and I don't care about when and I don't care about how. The world keeps spinning out and in, and I don't do nothin. Justice gets me going no more.


The last day, the final chapter of this short yet endless month. I realized, in conjunction to someone elses blogpost on the subject, that February really is the most dull and boring out of all months in a year. Time flies, sleep comes crawling, the sky is mostly dull, seems like things don't get done, but of course I have been doing a lot of things this month, as always. Things don't work out as planned, plans don't get planned as planned, and even our plants seem to slowly wither away at this time of monthly day and decay. Keep moving.

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