Icarus's blog: "Hope- by any other name."

Aww... switched blog modes again.
*sigh*
Hang on a sec.

Alright. I had to take care of something and it wasn't my rear bleedind dog for the first time today.

This is what happens when you write, and don't feel a single emotion.
Are you ready?
Are you ready for this?
















BAM! I got nothin.

And I have for a while.
I find that music is a major part of my inspirational process.
Music, and actually being miserable.
I'm just broke and frustrated.
I'm happily single at the moment.
I don't have any unattached crushes.
Go ahead and check yourself...
Yeah I'm not pursuing you.
Weird huh?
And I'm kinda winding down altogether on online games atm.
But hey- Borderlands comes out this quarter, so don't cry for me virginia, and the fallout 3 expacs.

I'm in an unfortunate state of stagnant contentment.
Like someone that stopped fighting the current and realised the current was actually kneedeep mud.

I really do talk like this people.
--------------------------------------------------

Western wind smells sweet.
Like sun caked dust and sandstone that crumbles in your fist.
Today I'm a pirate, tomorrow a basket case.
Wandering this way and that, commanding a troupe of misfits I named, imagined and loved.
We will fight, we will drink, and we will conquer.
Machine gun nest to the left.
Cannons to the right.
Airstrike take cover!
P'koooom!!!
Report in! Anyone hit?
Zael'zarg I'm alright
Diekrieg I'm fine, just a little shook up.
...
Carth?
CARTH!!!

I distinctly remember the sound of tremulous warm tears dop dap dabbing on his dirty black and red scorched cheek.
The weight of his body in my arms, pulling us both deep into the foxhole now grave.
A warm and inviting place.
Where one could rest in darkness and silence with his best friends.

That was the weight of war, of sacrifice, of command.
And frankly, I've had one hundred years too many of it to go playing soldier in this life.

Was it really me in that sandstone ridge on the Afrikafrunt?
The over active imagination of a boy in the midwest running from fireflies pretending they were anti-aircraft shells?
or just another nightmare inherited by too many anti-anxiety pills?

I'll never know.
Why should you?