Ok people
I do apologize for lacking so horribly in my updates. But I do have a good reason (you knew I was gonna say that right). I am trying to graduate from college. I have about two more months to go and then I have to hand in my thesis and defend it in front of a jury (I hope – it’s all still very unsure). So until then I have so little time to write, review or even to read that I’m gonna be lacking in updates, here and on my fanfiction page. I know you all can understand this and I’m gonna thank you in advance for sticking around and giving me some space.
Of course I will be back. I’m currently working on a BlackWater FF which is long and I hope you will all really enjoy it, because I’m thoroughly enjoying writing it. Until we meet again! All health and happiness to you.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
FF Rec
Today I wanna give you a Fanfiction Recommendation!
(I am giving spoilers – if you don’t want that then scroll down and just click on the link)
Namely I all want you to go and read: ‘The Education of Professor Cullen’, written by SheViking on Fanfiction.net (Rating M).
Her own summary:
College professor Edward Cullen is thoroughly annoyed by his student Ms. Swan. Everything about her bothers him, and he longs for the semester to be over. But what happens when he meets her one night when they aren't in school? Lemons and naughty languageAnd its absolutely a ‘can’t-put-downer’. The story is very well written, perfect grammar and spelling, not always a given in the FF world as we know. The characters are very well thought out and not what you expect at all. Because in this story, Bella is the sexy, strong confident one and Edward is the stumbling, dorky professor. The roles are reversed and it works really well.
SheViking manages to combine hot, juicy lemons with cute mush, fluff parts and some real and honest relationship fear with each other. It twenty-five chapters long and a page turner. So in need of some good FF. Go to:
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5910879/1/The_Education_of_Professor_Cullen
(I am giving spoilers – if you don’t want that then scroll down and just click on the link)
Namely I all want you to go and read: ‘The Education of Professor Cullen’, written by SheViking on Fanfiction.net (Rating M).
Her own summary:
College professor Edward Cullen is thoroughly annoyed by his student Ms. Swan. Everything about her bothers him, and he longs for the semester to be over. But what happens when he meets her one night when they aren't in school? Lemons and naughty languageAnd its absolutely a ‘can’t-put-downer’. The story is very well written, perfect grammar and spelling, not always a given in the FF world as we know. The characters are very well thought out and not what you expect at all. Because in this story, Bella is the sexy, strong confident one and Edward is the stumbling, dorky professor. The roles are reversed and it works really well.
SheViking manages to combine hot, juicy lemons with cute mush, fluff parts and some real and honest relationship fear with each other. It twenty-five chapters long and a page turner. So in need of some good FF. Go to:
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5910879/1/The_Education_of_Professor_Cullen
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Bluebird
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
to let anybody see
you.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he’s
in there.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody’s asleep.
I say, I know that you’re there,
so don’t be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he’s singing a little
in there, I haven’t quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it’s nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don’t
weep, do
you?
- Charles Bukowski
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
to let anybody see
you.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he’s
in there.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody’s asleep.
I say, I know that you’re there,
so don’t be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he’s singing a little
in there, I haven’t quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it’s nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don’t
weep, do
you?
- Charles Bukowski
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Invitation
“If you are a dreamer, come in,
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer…
If you’re a pretender, come sit by my fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
Come in!
Come in!”
- Invitation by Shel Silverstein
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer…
If you’re a pretender, come sit by my fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
Come in!
Come in!”
- Invitation by Shel Silverstein
Monday, February 28, 2011
From Walt Whitman:
The first printing of Leaves of Grass (and none of the subsequent printings) had a preface with the following quote:
“This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.”
“This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.”
Ghazal 98
The wind last night brought wind of my far-traveled love to me.
I, too, will give the wind my heart and what must be shall be.
It’s come to this: no confidante will hear my secrets save
Lightning at dusk and wind at dawn as I live ardently.
In your curls’ locks, not once did my defenseless heart recall
The home in me it left behind, but shunned the memory.
Today I treasure all advice of friends who warned of love.
Blessed are the advisers, Lord, for it is they who see.
Memory of you was my heart’s blood when wind came to unwind
The cord that closed the rosebud’s robe beneath our meadow tree.
My winded body felt death blow till a new dawn wind blew
Fresh hope for our reunion and returned my life to me.
Hafiz! Your amicable way has earned you what you yearn for.
Let every soul be sold to help a man of amity.
- Hafiz
I, too, will give the wind my heart and what must be shall be.
It’s come to this: no confidante will hear my secrets save
Lightning at dusk and wind at dawn as I live ardently.
In your curls’ locks, not once did my defenseless heart recall
The home in me it left behind, but shunned the memory.
Today I treasure all advice of friends who warned of love.
Blessed are the advisers, Lord, for it is they who see.
Memory of you was my heart’s blood when wind came to unwind
The cord that closed the rosebud’s robe beneath our meadow tree.
My winded body felt death blow till a new dawn wind blew
Fresh hope for our reunion and returned my life to me.
Hafiz! Your amicable way has earned you what you yearn for.
Let every soul be sold to help a man of amity.
- Hafiz
I go back to may 1937
I see them standing at the formal gates of their colleges,
I see my father strolling out
under the ochre sandstone arch, the
red tiles glinting like bent
plates of blood behind his head, I
see my mother with a few light books at her hip
standing at the pillar made of tiny bricks with the
wrought-iron gate still open behind her, its
sword-tips black in the May air,
they are about to graduate, they are about to get married,
they are kids, they are dumb, all they know is they are
innocent, they would never hurt anybody.
I want to go up to them and say Stop,
don't do it--she's the wrong woman,
he's the wrong man, you are going to do things
you cannot imagine you would ever do,
you are going to do bad things to children,
you are going to suffer in ways you never heard of,
you are going to want to die. I want to go
up to them there in the late May sunlight and say it,
her hungry pretty blank face turning to me,
her pitiful beautiful untouched body,
his arrogant handsome blind face turning to me,
his pitiful beautiful untouched body,
but I don't do it. I want to live. I
take them up like the male and female
paper dolls and bang them together
at the hips like chips of flint as if to
strike sparks from them, I say
Do what you are going to do, and I will tell about it.
- Sharon Olds
I see my father strolling out
under the ochre sandstone arch, the
red tiles glinting like bent
plates of blood behind his head, I
see my mother with a few light books at her hip
standing at the pillar made of tiny bricks with the
wrought-iron gate still open behind her, its
sword-tips black in the May air,
they are about to graduate, they are about to get married,
they are kids, they are dumb, all they know is they are
innocent, they would never hurt anybody.
I want to go up to them and say Stop,
don't do it--she's the wrong woman,
he's the wrong man, you are going to do things
you cannot imagine you would ever do,
you are going to do bad things to children,
you are going to suffer in ways you never heard of,
you are going to want to die. I want to go
up to them there in the late May sunlight and say it,
her hungry pretty blank face turning to me,
her pitiful beautiful untouched body,
his arrogant handsome blind face turning to me,
his pitiful beautiful untouched body,
but I don't do it. I want to live. I
take them up like the male and female
paper dolls and bang them together
at the hips like chips of flint as if to
strike sparks from them, I say
Do what you are going to do, and I will tell about it.
- Sharon Olds
A Dream Within a Dream
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
- Edgar Allan Poe
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
- Edgar Allan Poe
Kelly Clarckson; Addicted
"Addicted"
It's like you're a drug
It's like you're a demon I can't face down
It's like I'm stuck
It's like I'm running from you all the time
And I know I let you have all the power
It's like the only company I seek is misery all around
It's like you're a leech
Sucking the life from me
It's like I can't breathe
Without you inside of me
And I know I let you have all the power
And I realize I'm never gonna quit you over time
It's like I can't breathe
It's like I can't see anything
Nothing but you
I'm addicted to you
It's like I can't think
Without you interrupting me
In my thoughts
In my dreams
You've taken over me
It's like I'm not me
It's like I'm not me
It's like I'm lost
It's like I'm giving up slowly
It's like you're a ghost that's haunting me
Leave me alone
And I know these voices in my head
Are mine alone
And I know I'll never change my ways
If I don't give you up now
It's like I can't breathe
It's like I can't see anything
Nothing but you
I'm addicted to you
It's like I can't think
Without you interrupting me
In my thoughts
In my dreams
You've taken over me
It's like I'm not me
It's like I'm not me
I'm hooked on you
I need a fix
I can't take it
Just one more hit
I promise I can deal with it
I'll handle it, quit it
Just one more time
Then that's it
Just a little bit more to get me through this
I'm hooked on you
I need a fix
I can't take it
Just one more hit
I promise I can deal with it
I'll handle it, quit it
Just one more time
Then that's it
Just a little bit more to get me through this
It's like I can't breathe
It's like I can't see anything
Nothing but you
I'm addicted to you
It's like I can't think
Without you interrupting me
In my thoughts
In my dreams
You've taken over me
It's like I'm not me
It's like I'm not me
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