Going out

I always liked the idea of going out with a bang, not only from a metaphorical stand point but also from the idea of leaving something worth talking about. I’m personally rather suicidal but not in any melodramatic, theatrical way. More in a “I know I’m going to die at some point so why not doing when I’m done here instead of waiting around for it” way. If you can in anyway say that. I often think about how you should kill yourself, the ultimate way would be something that people would talk about, either that or something funny. I once hear a dude talk about how you should cut your head off with an iron noose by jumping off a bride with the noose tied to the bridge, but that wouldn’t be funny as much as bloody brutal.

I don’t want to die in an ironic way, getting shot at an empty abortion rally or stepping on an aids needle going to buy condoms. I’d like to die in a cool way, fighting a bear or something, ortho we don’t have bears in Denmark making that theory rather hard to complete, you could also pull a New York zoo and just jump into the gorilla pen, but for the sake of everything do it in a pen where the animal isn’t endangered, like the crocodile pit or something.

I once heard about some guy who killed himself with helium, at first I didn’t quite understand it but it turns out it’s as simple as the car and the garage thing. Maybe it’s just my dark humor sticking it’s head out now but imagine if he had been stopped by a pair of medics showing up, kicking the door and him screaming “no no! I wanna die!” in a high pitch helium voice.

Moral of the story is, if you’re going to kill yourself at least do it in a way that’ll leave a mark, you might not have in your life but at least do it with humor about it.

The magic of grass

There’s a place in town, where all the young folks from the town goes to hang out in the summer. 

When the sun’s highest and the waters still cold, you’ll surely find a whole bunch sitting around on blankets and drinking beer and soda, talking. Not with their phones out or playing some sport, just talking. Imagine the kind of wonder this place has. It has been up for almost 50 years and has never really been changed. It’s a mark of culture in town and everybody knows about it. It’s where you go when the heat makes it hard to stay at home on the sofa. It’s where you go when your grades were really great or you just have something to celebrate. It doesn’t have to be a big thing, usually it’s just the fact that it’s Friday again and there’s no reason to not have a hang-over in the morning. Sometimes it’s to celebrate the fact that you passed the first stage of school. It’s the place where people discovered new kinds of music, it’s where people come together and it’s where love happens. I mean shit, it’s where I had my first kiss. It’s where I met the best of my friends and got closer with the ones I already had. And I’m just one person, imagine all the hundreds and thousands of people who have been there through the time. And it’s not like it’s a big thing with benches and fountains and running tracks. It’s just a fucking lawn. It’s literally called “the lawn” by the people who live here (or “plænen” if you want to learn a bit of Danish). And there’s so many stories that has happened here, so why the fuck not try to tell some of them. They might not be funny and they might not be as interesting as “the shining” but hey, it’s not like all of Steven king’s shit is a great read.

Ennui

Have you ever been bored? No I don’t mean the kind of bored you get on one of those lazy Sundays where you’re stuck inside, watching old episodes of doctor who on netflix that you have already watched before. I mean really bored, feeling stuck, without much more of a reason to do anything other than it being better to do than the thing you’re clearly not doing right now.

But what if you stayed in that place, what would happen to your brain? Would it actually mess you up in any kind of way? I think it might.

The term “ennui” is defined as: “a feeling of utter weariness and discontent resulting from satiety or boredom”. Or in other words “boredom leading to paranoia”, now how that would work, I have no idea, I’m not actually a shrink, yet, not that I was about to go to medical school for 8 years, just to spend the rest of them listening to other peoples crappy lives, that would most likely be the easiest way to get a depression, that and being one of those clowns in the kids wings of hospitals. But just try to imagine having so little to do, that you actually begin to think everyone is after you, at that point I’d personally suggest going for a walk or something. Personally I have been working on a minor field shelter thing the last few days, a larger hole in the ground, covered with sticks and topped with leafs, I hope nobody steps in it, in order for people to notice it, I have made part of the roof out of an old plastic plate. I found it in the forest but I don’t actually know where it came from. I guess it was just something someone once brought out there and left it there, along with the many forgotten, broken coffee pots, old gloves and holed sweaters. Speaking of which who the fuck just drops a sweater in the forest and goes: “oh well guess that’s lost” and leaves it there! Like come on, how many people have to leave the forest shirtless cause they ditched their shit in it.

Anyway I have no idea what I’m on about. I’m that one ranting maniac, and I’m so fucking bored.

These days:

I haven’t been writing a whole lot these days, not cause I didn’t want to, I always love writing, more for the reason that I haven’t found the need. Writing has often been used as a gateway for me, a gateway to a source of adventures that I’m unable to have myself, stuck in the place that I was, but these days I find the amount of adventure in my daily life, starting a new school, realizing how the world looks outside the tiny country village I used to live and go to school in. I like the way the world is changing around me. Some chose to stare themselves blind on the bigger picture, decide that 50-78% of all those immigrants might be terrorists and that everything might be mighty and dangerous in their views. I must admit I never really got that line of thinking, there’s not really lot of meat on the subject so let me just lick the bone in a hurry and say. The immigration problem is somewhat bad, the worst part about is the paranoia and the fear that we’ll always be betrayed by the people we let in close, but if you live with the kind of logic put onto everything you meet in your life you might as well go buy and island and live off of coconuts and crabs. 

I like meeting new people, I know a lot of people have issues talking to new people but I find it exciting, like running down a hill, knowing it could go very badly at any moment when your foot might be snagged by an oak trees root sticking out the ground or something like a large rock, tripping you over and making your face mostly look like the bottom of an empty marmite jar, yet still very much exciting. The adrenaline is always a boost, maybe I’d just finally pull my shit together and start that adrenaline addiction some time but until then I’ll stick to the lite version and start conversation with people I don’t know yet. For as we all know, a stranger is just a friend you haven’t met yet, or a dickhead you haven’t judged proper yet.

Moral of this little rant? No fucking clue, just go with it like I do, and maybe go run down a hill, or meet new people… or run down the hill to meet new people, just don’t tell anyone I told you to do it cause I’m not going to take blame for anything you lot do.

I’m that one ranting maniac, and yes, I’m pretty sure I’m back now.

Are you really alone?

Have you ever been alone and, no let me start over.

Have you ever thought you were alone, at home maybe or in the forest, feeling as if nothing around you could ever reach you, as if the world outside the place that you’re in, only to have the amazing feeling being broken by a word from anything but your own voice? Or maybe been dancing around at home, parents having gone out to do something without you. And you deciding to have a bit of alone fun, dancing around with the music blasting in the living room, spinning around only to catch the dark silhouette of something, maybe just the last bit of a leg moving by a doorway. And for a moment you think twice if you’re really alone at home or not, but you shrug it off and go back to your alone time fun.  

Or have you ever been sitting in your room, eyes maybe closed, trying to do maybe some funky meditation trick that all the other kids doing these days. Everything being completely silent, only to hear something whisper you in the ear. Well I have, and then a bit more.

A while ago I was sitting around in my room, trying to do some stress relieving things, not masturbating, fix your dirty thoughts, merely meditating, see at my work recently more than 3 people has gone down with stress so our boss makes us all do some stress relieving things, but after a little bit of me sitting there, thinking about how stupid this was, I heard a voice in my ear cold as ice, making it run like cold water down my spine. “You’re better than this, you don’t need any fancy meditation tricks”, I opened my eyes and looked around for anyone at all, but of course there was no one there,  I live in a small 2 room apartment in new York, usual grimy shit area with old people neighbors who steal your newspapers and let their dogs bark until late in the night.

But for the next few months the voice was there more and more, in the start it was just usual normal day stuff, like “remember to take out the trash” or “maybe just 3 pieces of bacon” but recently it has become… darker, more sinister, there’s never anything around when I look around for where the voice is coming from, only the strange feeling of something being too close for comfort, like a fifth grade teacher leaning in on you from behind to make sure you’re not cheating on a test. I feel the wet breath on the back of my neck and the disgusting smell of coffee and old smokes.

I haven’t heard the voice in almost 30 minutes now, but I can feel it’s presence, I can smell it. Oh god the fucking smell! It’s like one of those coffee cats shit! And I’m afraid… I’m afraid cause the last thing the voice said was “Turn around”.

But… He would rather die unknowing of what hit him. What a shame. But remember to take out the trash… hehe hahaha!

Writer’s block and denial:

So what is there to talk about in the news these days. A couple of days ago a pair of isis members got blown up by their own landmine, guess there might be hope for this place after all. I found out that if I sit by the window while flying I will get panic attacks. I found out that I might be a closet hipster since I realized the newest song on my music playlist is from 1967 but to be fair it is a really good song. I might have writer’s block, for you who don’t know what that is it’s when your mind is empty of ideas and no matter how hard you try to write you can’t put anything out. But I have always thoughts that's a pile of bullshit other writers say to get to slack off for another week or 2, cause even when I thought “I can’t write anything!” I’ll just go write 3 pages about how I can’t write anything and then I realize I’m full of shit and then I try to jump out the window but hit the middle beam and bruise my shoulder.

So what else is there to say here, there’s a new season of “BoJack Horseman” out on netflix, the show that makes you feel like you’re being punished for liking someone, though to be fair a lot of shows do that, just ask the game of throne fans. And everyone who watched Full Metal Alchemist and Attack on titan.

Though I like Bojack Horseman, it’s an interesting show that sneaks up on you with how deep it really is with its cartoon art style and it’s many kinds of funny moments in the first few episodes. So if you feel like getting your heart torn out by another show I suggest to go watch it. In these few 3 weeks I have also seen the new Avengers, I want to say it’s a good movie, go watch it, Ultron steals the show though, I forgot the actor's name sorry. I watched the new Jurassic park which made no fucking sense. I watched the new mad max which… is a movie about stuff… but I think that’s a good one too.

I watched most of season 3 of orange is the new black, which then made me want to smash my face into a wall. But that’s really it in the media sense, I have been trying to catch up on a lot of things, the backlog of shit I have been writing lately is starting to clog up and I’m trying to ship out as much as I can without it becoming spam on you guy’s dashboard. But yes, I hope you’re all well, I am that’s for sure. But that’s really it there is to tell. Maybe I’ll come back in a week or 2 with a new super long essay about that Australian fire fighter. Who knows. (TEAAASE)

Red Hot Fire:

So here’s a fun new thing that I like to do. Go on youtube, search for “Red Hot Nickel Ball” or “RHNB” if you’re in a hurry, and just watch a bunch of all the videos there.

For you who don’t have the time to go and watch this let me try to explain it. Even though if you have time to sit down and read one of my many weird and oddly drawn out rants then you might also have a bit of time to instead just go and watch the things I’m talking about for the day. But the main theme of these videos is that this guy who most likely just sits around in his garage most of the time playing around with fire and doing a bunch of all the other stuff your parents told you not to do. Then he has this ball of nickel which he heats up till it’s red gloving, and then just place it on random stuff. All the things you may have thought about if you have taken a smith’s basics class, or actually listened to the teacher in chemistry. “Hmm yes, very interesting about what liquid nitrogen, but what would happen if we froze an apple down and then smashed it? Or froze a giant gummi bear with it, and then shot it with a 12-gauge shotgun a few times?” Nothing you would actually ask the teacher but something that would be a very interesting topic to talk about with the bros one night. “What would happen if you placed a red-gloving hot ball of metal on a Nokia phone” well now you can find out.

Now some might say that this is just “pyromaniac porn” and they would most likely be right. But to be fair who has really gotten rid of that little caveman part of the brain that tells you that “fire is good”, and who can say that fire is bad? Other than that Australian fire fighter who got 90% of his body burnt. But that’s for a different time!

But if you’re not into the whole idea of burning stuff with a big ball of metal, which if you are you’re a complete weirdo who doesn’t know the good things about life, then you can also go see him freeze down a bunch of stuff and smash it with a pot full of cement. Cause that’s fun too… I guess, or maybe just do like me and create a blog where you post all your random little thoughts that you write on your shitty computer in the breaks between classes on the school internet. Cause holy trout butts is the internet on my new school amazing! Or maybe you should just go read a bunch more of my stuff like the good boy that you are. But first go look up the pyromaniac porn, trust me, you will not regret it. And if you do…. Well what the heck I wrong with you, IT LOOKS TOTALLY RAD!?

What Happened Here?

Now just to put things into perspective, this one was written a month or 2 ago and I just haven't gotten around to posting it. But here it is, do enjoy!

So regarding the issues we have had in the last couple of months with racism, cops, all the things happening in Ferguson, the stuff that we don’t enjoy talking about.

And the reason why we don't is because we all know that it will lead to us finding issues with the people in reality charged to keep us all safe. Because we know if we start questioning the safety net that is the police and the government we might ruin the false sense of security we have had the last many years.

Now the issue with racism, is still a huge problem in many places, some more then other but yet the snake of hate and poison that is racism still finds it’s way into most families and countries. Even the places where it in reality has no place to be, in hospitals, police offices, day care centres for just a few examples.

Now we all agree that racism has no place in these places, but yet it finds it’s way in there, the same way people find their way in there, for racism is like dead skin cells, we all shed them off most of the time, some less than others but we all have the thoughts, others are just better at suppressing them. The same way psychopaths are also people, now I am aware this is a touchy topic, since I just basically called everyone who has ever thought a slightly racist a psychopath, but think about it, a rapist with no kind of rumours, is in reality just a daydreamer who got bored of dreaming. Now I do not want this to be misunderstood as me saying that rape is not a terrible thing, and that rapists should not be punished. Because they should, sexual assault is without a doubt one of the worst things we can do to each other, and therefore the victims should be taken care of, cared for and be loved a bunch more then any other kind of victim.

Now I have never understood racism, I think it has something to do with the way I was brought up, the way I see it is that everyone is equal, the only way someone can be lowered is through the actions they take.

One of the reasons I most likely will never be welcomed in the army, since I am of the belief that the word “sir” should be earned in the same way any other kind of rank should when I wish to use it, through me, I believe I’m allowed to call people what I wish and a man should be judged and rated from his actions, therefore the term “sir” would not be given to my commanding officer the first day at the military base, but earned after weeks and months, something the army would hate, and I would most likely get thrown out.

But what happened? People spend so much time resorting to the bible for guidance that they sometimes skip over the most important thing, “love thy neighbour”, because sure he steals your newspaper every morning but you should still love him as you love yourself.

Now let it be said that I am not a religious man but I can still finds the idea behind a world where everyone loves each other is a lovely thing, no pun intended. But others find that idea absolutely boring! And we must all agree that the type of people who find the idea behind a big loving planet disgusting, is the type of people who go nutters in Ferguson Missouri. The type of people who shouldn't be cops, nurses, doctors or work in any kind of day care center. For we know those are also the people who believe that the bible really says that racism is “ok” and that homophobia is absolutely justified by the words of a book, the same way that: Because Harry Potter could see magical horses after he saw a person die, you should totally go out and kill people just to see the amazing death horses with wings.

The journey itself, or the destination:

So a thing that has been bugging me for a long time is the question of "what is the meaning of life", to be fair who hasn’t ever been thinking about that dumb question, it was most likely the first question ever asked to a parent that made them go “eeeh.. go play kid, dads busy”, but I have come to the conclusion that it really depends on the person who asks the question.

It has often been said that the life is what you make of it, and that life is a journey, but in this case is the destination the point you should talk about, or how you got there. Many people die happy, surrounded by people, but the way they got there is the interesting part of their lives, it actually is their life.

I like to think that, no one should be alone, not only is it unsafe and unhealthy, it's also depressing for the environment that is surrounding that person.

Now and then you see a poor old guy in the park who sits on a bench feeding pigeons which is always a bit sad.

It reminds me of the Danish tradition of showing the movie "the 90th birthday" on new years eve. For you who don't know this movie it's an older black and white movie about a rich women turning 90 and her butler, the idea is that normally she has guests, but since she's 90 and outlived all her friends the butler has to be all the friends, of course he also has to join in on all the toasts which is the main comedic part of it, seeing the butler run around drunk off his face trying to act like 4 different people at once.

But this is not what I wanted to talk about today, the main thing was, is the meaning of life death, or life itself, I think it'd life itself, as Geof Goldbloom is always fast to remind us when we re-watch Jurassic park, "life always finds a way" so maybe God is not an almighty thing in the sky, maybe god is just life, the power of surviving and the biological baced system in a hole.

Well the got technical on us. Let's talk about something else!!? Where have I been? I have been in Finland, it was a week long seminar with food made for people in comas and beds for fatherless children. The people was all very nice thoe, since the main theme of the seminar was creating cross country friendships and poverty in the twenty-first century.

The whole thing about poor and rich is something I’ll talk about later cause I do have a minor hucket of things to post on here. I haven’t had the best internet and haven't exactly had the time to upload all these things to my favourite drop-box light server. But once I have returned home I’ll happily have all of them up within a few days. That is... If I feel like it and don't just cry for 3 days and then jump out my window. Actually that wouldn��t do a lot, my house only has one floor...

Where the fuck did you go?

So here's the thing, I have no idea why I'm still writing stuff, I haven't posted anything in the last 2 months, and yet some people stay followed to me, now I'm not sure if that's cause they forgot to cancel their membership to the crazy crazye's new letter, which I send out now and then, or cause they actually like the stuff I write, I am not sure of. But I am happy that some people actually like what I do, and that's the real kicker, I had a bit of success, I had a bit of luck, and now I feel like a fucking rock-star, not the game company, the literal term, you know what I mean.

The fact is I never started writing stuff for other then my own entertainment, it's relaxing to me and the fact that some people actually enjoy reading the things that I write is just a bonus. But the thing is I really want to start coming back now, posting more and I feel like I have a responsibility to start doing more, so I'm no longer just another one of those blogs you follow cause “well I guess this ones kinda neat” or what ever you say to compensate for the fact that you're following 10 trillion other blogs and you really should clean up your tumblr dashboard but just can't really get the time to look through what you want to save and what not to!

What was I talking about again? Oh yea! So here's the thing lads, I'm not going to pretend like there's not going to be big gaps sometimes in the amount of stuff that I post, I'm not going to pretend I got a whole lot of stuff to post now, or that I had a really good reason to not post anything, other then “eh I'll do it later!”

Though I am going to tell you that I am coming back, with a fucking vengeance! In the form of… 4 rants that I wrote while sitting in a plane to Finland and the possibility that I have a minor dopamine addiction, but to be honest what gamer doesn’t!?

Trying to fly away from it all:

So where have I been for the last 3 weeks? Why haven’t I even made a single re… whatever they’re called, why haven’t I posted a single rant in forever!

Well first I took a week off cause I was going to a seminar regarding the rich and poor in Finland for 5 days, then I took 5 days more where I went to my sister's place and then another week in a camp of some sort.

Now you might think that means I have a fuckton of stuff to post now that i’m actually back, but sadly I don’t actually have a lot, I have like 4 things to post but I will say that now that i’m back to jabbing away at a keyboard there will be comming a bunch of stuff soon, this first week won’t really have anything worth talking about but i’m sure someone might enjoy it. To be honest I haven’t actually felt too good about myself lately, guess that just has something to do with me getting the time to relate to what’s going on in my life and the fact that large events are happening this summer but what do I know. But now that i’m back, feeling semi-better and ready to make my fingers bleed by slamming them too hard onto plastic keys, i’m sure it will get better, with time at least.

The Perugian Heart Vendor:

Have I ever told you the story of the Perugian heart vendor?? No?

Well let me tell you about it then, a long long time ago, in the middle of the 6th’s largest dessert there laid a giant city, this city was so big that even though you squeezed your country down a little bit there could still be 4 of them inside of Perugia. Now in perugia, in the middle of the town is a large market, the largest of all the 7 worlds. Now on this market you could buy everything you could imagine, dragon teeth, deep purple bunnies, everything except for strawberries, cause you see, in Perugian the word for strawberry also means death and sorrow, this is why no one ever eat strawberries.

Now in Perugia everyone wears their hearts on the outside of their clothes, on the edge of their shirts. Because thats whats modern there. Now usually people only give their hearts to people they really trust, and sometimes they don’t even get one back, that’s why sometimes you need a little heart vendor to help you, they usually stand on corners of streets with big baskets full of hearts, in all sizes and shapes, and i’m sure that if you ever miss yours you can get one just fitting for you.

Now one day a young man was walking down the market place, looking for one of these heart vendors, but he couldn't find one, usually they were everywhere but this time there was not a single one to be found in miles. The young man walked and walked for a long time, but finally found one standing alone in an ally, almost unvisible between the croud of the people if it wasn't for her beautiful red dress that most of the heart vendors would wear. The man pushed his way through the crowd and made his way to the young girl with the basket full of hearts and said “good lady, I was wondering if such a woman in your profession might also be in the profession of repairing hearts?” see the young man had been married, and it had not ended well, that's why his heart was broken. The young man pulled his heart out from under his jacket and held it in both hands before the heart vendor, and the heart vendor could see how broken the poor young man's heart was, so many cracks and shards broken off, it was almost he was just holding a handful of broken red glass, the girl looked deeply into the broken bits and saw it reflect the city around her, how the young man loved the country he lived in and the stars in the night sky, she saw how he loved to run and his work. But she also saw how the heart had become so utterly broken.

See the young man had been married to a beautiful woman for many years, they were the nicest couple ever and they liked each other so much, that they even kissed. But one day the young man came home to find his wife laying on the kitchen floor, she had fallen and couldn't get up, she said she felt so weak and that she would need a doctor. So the young man picked her up and carried her for 3 miles to the nearest doctor, see the young man’s wife had fallen terribly sick, from a very rare disease, the disease is so rare that it doesn't even have a name.

When the young man finally came to the doctor’s house there was nothing they could do, no one knew how to treat the young man’s wife and no one knew how to make either of them happy again. When the doctor told the young man that they couldn’t do anything for his wife he began to cry, and as the first tear left the skin of his cheek to fall onto the wooden floor of the doctors house, his heart cracked and shattered. Cause that is what happens when you love so much as he did, but you can’t do anything for them anymore.

The little heart vendor looked through her basket but found nothing, after a long time of digging and suggesting other kinds of hearts the man said “No I wouldn’t like a new heart, I like this one and I would prefer to keep it. But maybe you could refer me to someone who could fix it for me? If it wouldn’t be too much to ask” After a bit of thinking the little heart vendor nodded and took the young man’s hand, leading him to the only person in all of Perugia that she thought might help him, a close friend of hers and a good man, the only heart smith in all of Perugia, see back in the day there was a lot of heart smiths, people used to take good care of their hearts and that’s why they would keep them clean and checked on by the heart smiths, so there was no cracks and things, much like a dentist looks at teeth. But in the newer days people stopped caring as much for their hearts, they realised it was easier to just get a new one instead of fixing a broken one.

The little heart vendor lead the young man through mount and many allies, up streets and down streets, across allies and over hills. When they finally came to the hearts smith’s house it was almost evening. The little heart vendor knocked carefully on the door and opened it, inside was a little workshop, it wasn’t a very large workshop and barely had room for the stove and the single bed that stood in the corner, in front of the fireplace sat an older man with short black hair and dirty clothes, he was reading a big old heavy book and drinking coffee I think it was. The young man was lead into the workshop by the little heart vendor who coughed to get the heart smith’s attention, though the smith hadn’t heard them come in so he got so surprised that he almost choked on his coffee.

The young man said hello, and the how do you do, then he showed the heart smith his heart and said if there was even a little chance that the smith may help him, now the heart smith was a good man, and he never asked payment for any of the hearts he had repaired for anyone, only that they took good care of them and never wasted them on the wrong person. So when the heart smith saw the young man’s broken heart he almost let a single tear slide from his eye. The carefully lifted the heart out of the young man's hand and onto the workbench and said “I will do everything I can to fix this my friend, come back once 7 days and 7 nights have passed and I will show you what I have done” the young man fell to his knees and hugged the smiths legs in pure happiness, cause sometimes when you’re so happy that you just don’t know what to do with yourself it’s good to have someone to hug.

The young man and the little heart vendor then left and the heart smith started working on the broken heart, he worked all night and all day for 7 days, and each day the young man came back to see how the smith was doing, each day he had a new gift with him meant for the smith. Just as a token of his appreciation. The first day the young man brought the smith a small heavy golden pocket watch, made from the purest gold possible to find and with beautiful red glass from the dragon furnaces in the 4th. But the smith said that he could never accept such a gift, and that time never worked to his favour anyway, and that the young man would most likely find more joy in keeping the watch, the young man gave the smith the hand and left again. That was the first time the smiths heart grew a little, and a single grey hair popped up in his coal black hair.

On the second day the young man brought the smith a beautiful little box made from amber and silver, it had a little lock on it with a code that only the owner of the box may ever know, the heart smith said again that he could never accept such a thin, but the young man said that he should at least keep it until the 7 days and 7 days had ended, knowing that the young man couldn’t be persuaded to think anything else the smith took the box and placed it on the little shelf above his bed, that way he would always know where it was.

on the third day the man didn’t come by, neither did he on the fourth or the fifth, but on the 6th he came back with a large cardboard box, it was white as snow and clouds, and the shiniest of eggs, but still fragile, he put the box on the table and lifted it off a bit, inside was a large cake, a strawberry cake, made in the 3. and never to be eaten in any part of Perugia. The smith was delighted of the extent that the young man had gone into just to get this cake, just for the smith himself. And this is where his second grey hair came out through his black hair.

On the 7th day the young man came in from the street with a large umbrella under his arm, see on the 7th day of all weeks in Perugia a storm hits, a terrible storm, a storm so terrible that it rains, snows, thunders and hails all at the same time. This is why the 7th day of all weeks are called “storm day” in Perugia,

The young man scouted around the little workshop but could find the smith nowhere at all, all he could find was the little silver and amber box laying on the table in front of the door, on it was a note saying “for the one who cares” on it was a little smudge of whipped cream from the cake that the young man had brought the smith the day before so he thought that maybe it was for him, he gently lifted the box’s lid and looked inside, inside of the box laid his heart, as good as new and not a single scratch on it, the man grasped it in both hands and dropped on his knees for a second time on the floor of the little workshop, he screamed of joy and quickly put the heart back in it’s rightful place, a gentle click was heard as it slid into place and the man felt all the sorrow, all the happiness and all the feeling he could possibly feel in a lifetime, all at once and he knew that even though he had lost, he may have gained more from it.

After a while of sitting on his knees, clutching his new and improved heart he stood up and emptied out his pockets onto the table, coin after coin, klinked the gold into a large pile on the table, just as the last coin hit the top of the bunk, opened the door behind the young man and the little heart vendor came in, she looked at the pile and said to the man that he knew that the smith would never accept his payment, the man sighed and said that the smith deserved twice the mountain of gold that he couldn't give him. The heart vendor shook her head and laughed a bit at the young man, then the young man went home and the little heart vendor vent to the bed that was crammed into the corner of the workshop, pulling the sheets down a bit to reveal the smith tired face, see he had worked for so long and so hard in the young man’s heart that a little bit of himself went into it. And that’s the problem when you works so long and so hard on something, that it becomes impossible not to put a little bit of your own heart into the thing you’re working on. But if you do it too often they in the end you might run out of heart to give, and that was why the heart smith was laying there in the bed, tired and with only a splinter of a heart left., the little heart vendor shook her head and patted the poor smith on the head and said “ooh heart smith, when will you stop giving away your heart to people who will never return it” “you’re one to talk” said the smith, “you sell hearts for any man or woman or child, yet you have none of your own” “well no one has ever given me one”

You see in Perugia you recieve your heart by the first person who loves you, usually that is from your parents, but the poor little heart vendor had never known her parents, and never really had any friends, so she never had a heart of her own.

The heart smith sighed and pulled his little heart out, it had grown many times in his lifetime, and been cut down twice as many, “well deer heart vendor, why don’t you take mine? I won’t need it anyway” see you might think that the little heart might not fit for the little heart vendor, but that’s where you’re wrong, she’s not so old you see, and children just have smaller hearts than us grown ups. So she happily grabbed the smiths hand and kissed him on the cheek, happy as can ever be, slid the little heart into place and with a gently “click” the little girl who gave away hearts, finally had one of her own, she quickly lifted up her basket and poured every single heart onto the bed where the smith was lying, cause sometimes when you love someone so much that it just hurts so much, you sometimes end up giving up more than just your own heart.  

So that’s it, they lived together in the little heart workshop, they grew old together and was just as happy as the young man had been with his wife.

And the young man? Well he moved on to find a new wife that was just as nice, and who made him just as happy as his old wife, but his heart still grew a little heavy when ever he thought of her, cause even though you polish away at a heart for 3 days and 3 nights, you can’t polish away a scar like that.

Did they live happily to their day's end? Well I don’t know, maybe they did, what do you think?

Now i’m part of SCP, thats all.

So I have a story for you guys, now recently I have applied to become part of the writing team for the SCP-Foundation, for you who don’t know what that is let me explain it:

The SCP-Foundation is a website who collects and contains any kind of object that may be a danger to any human or living creature. This is of course fictional but of course it’s always fun to live in the spirit. Now I will be trying to write a few things on here and I will be leaving links for this lovely little “fan base” I say as if the people who follow me are not people I have forced to do so at gunpoint, and anyone who says otherwise…. you know I can finde you.

But the thing is I will be starting to write these things and I hope you dear reader will be happy to read them and maybe feel the goosebumps that I have been lead to feel by this place, SCP is a place that I enjoy, and I hope you will too, but for now this has been me, signing off for a little to go work on the things that I will be putting there.

For ever,yours truly

-The Ranting Maniac

Video: Confused Alaskan Malamute Puppy Looks Like a Baby Bear

I love it.

I love the idea of having a large collection of my own writing, I love being accepted for the things that I do, I love the idea of showing my ideas to the world and having someone who agrees with me on the points that I make, I like the idea of arguing for the sake of arguing, I like the idea of showing people what I have made and having them show in their face that they are impressed, to respect the work that I have done and not just go “neat” but the fact is that most kinds of art are underrated, I have myself often said that some kinds of art are overrated but I only mean that in the fact that art should be valued for what it is, what it does, and what it means, not just what it means, cause if you value that the same way then I have the same value as a painting worth 60000000$. But I don’t ever think my writing are worth anything at all, if I would have to put a price on it, it would be the price of the readers time and the attention of a single person for the few minutes it would take to read the lines I have shaped into the screen. I love the idea of having a world joined together hand in hand loving the things on it and the things who shape it. I love the idea of a world connected by the world itself. For the world is amazing and my words can only scratch the bottom of the boot of amazingness that is the worlds and it’s nature.

Now I love the idea of putting myself out there, putting myself out there in the battlefield that is the internet and it’s mass of assholes and bastards, ready to jump any poor guy not with a black heart of coal, like myself. I’m not afraid of critic, I welcome it and i’m  not afraid of people pointing out the flaws in what I say, I argues for the sake of arguing and not for the sake of winning, I will not be late to accept defeat and I will not be late to accept the fact that I was wrong, that does not mean though that I will go down easy, not one bid, after all what kind of soldier would I be with bullets still in my gun.

The Dream Of The Dreamers Dream:

So here's another fun thing to talk about, the guy who dreamed the dream that no English teacher ever wants to shut up about, now it’s a obvious fact that this man was a great man who fought the powers of white men in the time where the black had none, now if you didn’t catch  hold of who I was talking about i’ll make it clear that i’m obviously talking about our all time favourite… Adolf Hitler, I’M KIDDING! Relax, it’s Martin Luther King, not the guy who made christianity go upside down bunker nuts but instead the man who made the blacks stand up to the white house and fight back without a single drop of blood, except from the people who act like 6 year olds. So since my school is run by fascists I have been forced to write down one of my “funny little, Rants, as you call it” and deliver it to my head teacher at the end of the day. Cause apparently they think I cheated at the exams and that i’m Mis Hitler or something.

So here goes, I have been handed a bunch of questions and I’ll do my best to stick to the topic and not talk about that one lady who  got shot and murdered by a dolphin. So since the first question is forcing me to point out the points in the “I have a dream” speech that is relatable to the present day in the USA, though I don’t really live there and I don’t really watch a lot of news so why I know anything about it is making me think things are rather odd over there, is it not funny how the only thing news ever show are the bad things? If an alien race keeps an eye on us through our media they would think we’re all sadists.

There are points in there about how black and whites, actually screw this, the whole thing about separating people is making me feel like a dumb racist already, I have already said this back when black out day was around, but I really don’t care if you’re black,  white, asian, Christian or anything else. Now there has been facts out from USA about the cops acting like gun holding crazy cowboys, and we can all say for sure that that is not alright, then why the heck is it that someone is actually getting away with this shit?! I’m sure the stuff can hold up in court but can you really go back home and look yourself in the mirror, cause you might be able to lie to the world but you know you could never lie to yourself in the same way. Unless you choose to pussy out and hide the emotions with hormone treatment and lot AND LOTS OF DRUGS!! Now the only question is then that I have no idea how to change things. I can do nothing, i’m a guy with a keyboard and a tendency to  ramble on for 30 minutes if left alone in a room for too long. Now I am aware this rant has been more unprofessional than the rest and I promise to make up for that by posting more the next few days, this is after all the last week of school and i’m sure that things will go smooth from this point on. Or well, i’m sure I at least won't wake up in a ditch covered in cocain any time soon, well at least not until like… sunday. I should get back to topic now.

As I was saying earlier I find the idea of moving people in different groups depending on  their looks or well skin color is awful, because it does not matter if we’re black or white, we’re all human and we should just be nice to each other, people stick to the bible so much why don’t they keep an eye on the fact that we should stop being dicks!

So Martin had a dream, I have a dream, you have a dream, most dreams are possibly the same, so why is it we don’t band together and make the dream come true?! Cause we’re afraid of getting hurt, but if we don’t believe in the dream, then we will get hurt, so if you do believe in the dream that you dream, the dream I dream, and the dream that we all dream, of a world united in peace, then we should stand together, don’t fight amongst ourself, but band together in a hug and accept the differences in the skin that covers our eart