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| 12:38am 15/08/2006 |
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Why is it that being an asshole is attractive to the opposite sex? |
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| Here I go |
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| 11:59pm 22/01/2006 |
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This just needs to be said...
Fucking Women. |
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| addendum to last post. |
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| 11:17am 02/09/2005 |
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To clarify on my last post. I apologize if it upset anyone, but I wasn't trying to plug my book or get people to buy it, buy it or not it's up to you... I don't care. I posted simply because this is Livejournal. I stated what is going on, what my plans are to do with any money I concure from books sales. As I stated in the previous post I would gladly donate to more governemt held organizations if I knew for certain that money would actually go to help people. When I saw the donations fund to help Poppy 'I thought what could I do, what is in my means to help.'
For some reason it seems that people think that she is rich, she's not, she struggles from pay check to pay check just like everyone else. I'm not trying to capitalize on anything. But what I have been seeing on television has been scaring the crap out of me, I'm not going to lie about that, what's been going on is the only thing that I have been able to think about. Again this is LiveJuornal, I was posting my thoughts as I always do and I merely gave the info so that if anyone was interested in helping they could. I have also decided to donate the rest to FEMA. I'm not going to keep any of it. But I'm a writer. That's how I make money, I don't have a 9-5 job, I sell to magazines, anthologies, and I write books.
Also I donated all of the money in my savings account, (which was only a copule hundred) to the RedCross, again this isn't for me I'm just scared and I want to help. I'd donate blood if I wasn't a cock sucking faggot who has an iron deficiancy so my blood has to be thrown away, it can't be donated.
again I apologize if my last post offended anyone, I'm just scared and worried about someone that I care about and I want to help.
buy it or not I don't care. But again I do apologize. |
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| a segment from the story I am writing |
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| 12:19am 24/07/2005 |
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keep in mind that this is loosely based on true events as is the whole story, I have and will be changing names and things that just plain shouldnt be said.
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ellen was an angel, she was strong and beautiful though she never seemed aware of either. Her shoulder length hair was red with blonde highlights, her smooth skin a soft white never felt overly dry despite the arid environment of our town, and her eyes were an indescribable blue that would turn the bluest oceans green with envy.
I met her on my first day at school in a new town, that was also in a new(to me at least) country. she was sitting on a bench outside the librairy eating her lunch, the young man who decided that I needed to know the other 'freaks' at the school introduced me to her.
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well it isnt much, but its all I can manage at the moment.
there's alot more to it, and this is part of the first in a series of stories about love loss and rebirth.
I'll add more to this when I can.
--Russ |
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| 03:08am 21/06/2005 |
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he hated her as much as he loved her. he wanted her back as much as he never wanted anything to do with her. he wanted her to know what it was to feel yourself dying, to loose passion for things that she used to hold so dear...
he wanted her to suffer, and he knew that in time she would, she would be reduced to nothing by her actions and the actions of her 'freinds' and when that time came he knew he was going to be the only one willing to help her out...
for a price.
if there was one thing he knew he could do well it was reading the patern that fate had woven, and calculating where the threads would be placed from there. one thing always seemed to come up no matter how he looked at it, in the end, she will be his, he didnt know when or even if it was going to be in this life, so he accepted things to be as they were and started building a future for himself.
he still loved her endlessly, but it was time that he let shit go.
it was time to cut and run. |
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| the other, other night |
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| 11:28pm 02/03/2005 |
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he sat there staring at the screen wondering when she will be online again. the conversation from the other night still somewhat fresh in his mind. He still wanted to tell her exactly what was inside of him, but somehow he knew that she already knew.
like clockwork the chime and bold text announced her presence. the usual exchange of greetings took place, same with the sluggish conversation, neither of them were the type that liked to talk alot so it suited them just fine. He was just glad to know that she was there, and that she would genuinely listen to what he had to say no matter how innane it was.
They talked of school and other goings on.
F: yeah the schools here are prety mice
S: really, I'd like to see that
F: *nice*
S: no, I think mice was better
F: yeah, you and the snakes at the pet shop down the road *shudder*
F: I'm not terribly fond of snakes.
S: I love snakes.
F: I got trapped in my house by #4 on the top ten most poisonous snakes list
S: poor jonas
F: its kinda why I prefer spiders, at least you can squish them it they overstep their bounds.
S: I hate spiders
F: what is it with me and falling for aracnaphobics?
S: our fear makes us irresistable
F: its gotta be something like that.
their conversation went on like that for a while, and on to the subject of a cute ferret that he wanted to take home with him.
F: she was crying, her freind was bought and now she's all alone :(
S: then you should go, get her now!
F: but she costs $99 and thats without the cage, food, toys and other stuff.
S: then go and buy her with a brick
F: but the only thing I'd have to cover my face is the big red hat that I wore wen I went in there earlier today.
S: then steal a ski mask while youre out.
F: sorry I wouldn't want to taint something that precious, besides its too much stuff to carry and ferrets squirm too much.
the conversation continued for a bit longer, till the time he had to go to bed. He hated the fact that he needed to get up early the next morning but he had no choice in the matter, he needed to get a job and some potential employers seem to took favorably on early risers.
F: well I'm off to bed
S: sleep well
S: and good luck
F: thank you
F: I still love you you know
he closed the program as fast as he could, he was afraid of what she would say to him...
he kicked himself for not staying to see, and not geing back on to ask.
--End
again a conversation that really happened, though I did change a few thingsas in the previous instalment.
as always questions and comments are welcome and apreciated.
--Russ |
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| 03:54am 02/03/2005 |
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mood:  enthralled
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I dreamt of a man-like creature who wasn't really a human. He was more like a demon, or an angel; maybe he couldn't decide which. He looked more a Tolkien elf, though much less poncy and more powerful. His aura was magnetic, dominant, dynamic; yet for all that, I could perceive a desperate insecurity, a possessing compulsion to prove his own superiority and grandeur.
He had the special talents of non-humans, to charm and to command, to exert will and influence, to obfuscate and to create. He had a special ability, all his own, which was this: If he kissed you, you became utterly his, enthralled and slightly disoriented. I recalled knowing that it was something to do with chemicals in his saliva, but even this liberalising knowledge didn't save me from succumbing to him. He knew that I saw through his deliberate glamour naturally, and perhaps that threatened him a little, but it seemed to intrigue him more. There wasn't hostility between us; indeed, there was a sort of guarded fascination. A double-edged sword, this proved to be.
Fascination led to unacknowledged affection, which led to a disaster. Repressed and confusing emotions are difficult to control, and in an effort to regain the control of himself, he lost any defense against his own habitual actions. For my own part, I was confused and uncertain, and didn't want to run away, even knowing this to be the course of wisdom. Somewhere between panic and passion there was a kiss, an explosion which showed me the universe in all it's unutterable glory.
The gesture of affective connection had carried that inherent curse, and sabotoged any possibility of truly lucid interaction afterward. It actually took awhile to feel the effects--much longer than usually. For most it was an instantaneous shift into a fuzzy dreamlike state. For myself, I still had awareness of self and surroundings, I still had clarity and presence of mind, but it was like having a radio commentary in the back of my mind; it could tell me what was going on, but it had no influence over my actions, and could not eradicate the amnesic rapture his kiss had plagued me with.
Just before waking, I knew with certainty that he was sorry. His punishment for being overpowered by impulse was the curse of regret. |
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| the other night (in third person) |
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| 03:20pm 24/02/2005 |
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mood:  thoughtful
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the following story actually happened, I'm writing it in third person because that's how I am veiwing it all at this moment.
45 seconds, 55 seconds...
the time remaining was rising as the bit rate dropped.
1 minute 15 seconds, 1 minute 45.
he waited staring at the screen as if it were his god.
8 seconds, 5...
'that was an interesting jump' he thought to himself as a small chime announced that the download was finished. 'about a minute and a half to install and I'll be connected again'.
the install finished, he ran the program and saw that most of his old freinds seemed to have abandoned the obsession with instant messaging...
all but one, her psuedonym stood out in bold text declairing her presence.
F: hi
he wondered if she was there or just left the computer on over night.
S: hello
A flood of immages had hit him, memories of sitting on the carnivorous couch her writing on him with a sharpie, pleading for him to stay though his course was already set it would have been disrespectfull to his benefactor if he had changed his mind so late in the game.
F: how're you doing?
S: I've been better.
F: whats wrong?
S: I seem to have the emotional flu.
he remembered how much she had meant to him, and how much they've hurt eachother without even really meaning to. Suddenly he wished he could take back everything he said, or at least for some way to redeem himself, and to show her what and who she is to him.
F: well I dont know what it is thats got you that way
he lied so as not to dredge up the events of a week ago.
F: but I know you'll pull through it alright...
F: I have faith in you, youre one of the strongest women I know.
F: Its why I fell so hard for you.
it wasnt enough but it would have to do, he couldnt pour everything out onto her at once, especially after the man she loved had left her.
S: Mabey
the conversation continued at a snails pace, as was their way, and in time he signed off he was tired and needed sleep.
he felt bad about not telling her everything, about how she is the only person who could touch certain places in his heart. he considered signing back on to tell her but thought better of it, telling himself 'I need to wait for the most oppertune moment'.
--end
any questions and or comments are welcome and apreciated.
--Russ |
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| Meh! |
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| 02:01pm 24/02/2005 |
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mood:  frustrated
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Love...? Yeah, I've been in love. Multiple times, with multiple people. In love with a few right now.
There's one, though....maybe it'll turn out to just be an infatuation, and die down to loving friendship. That would be nice, I think. Much better than feeling almost violently jealous every time he mentions another girl. That sort of feeling is really incharacteristic of me, and kinda scary. One almost has to think "Well, if that's the feeling he inspires, you must feel pretty serious about this fellow!"
Maybe. I've never had reason to think of him as anything more than a friend, but the past couple days I've noticed these new jealous feelings, and followed them to the only reasonable conclusion.... |
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| Nancy Hannah |
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| 08:34pm 21/02/2005 |
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copyright 2003, Jonathan W. Sodt
I put this one in my self-publsihed book, "Hailing Scales." It's old, but wierd.
( Nancy Hannah ) |
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| BULLETIN! |
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| 03:43pm 21/02/2005 |
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mood:  creative music: HIM - Right Here in My Arms
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Well peoples, I don't know if any of you will still read this community, but I want to put more into it than I have.
So I have a request...
In honor of recently passed St. Valentine's Day and St. Harlequin's Day and inspired by the death of Hunter S. Thompson, who was one of my heroes in the world of writing, I must ask:
I'd like people to write love stories and post them here. I'm not looking for sappy romantic ordinary crap. But if that is what you want or have, post it.
But I know that you guys have wonderful fonts of creativity and I'd love to see weird and wonderful, out of the ordinary, quirky love stories.
Anything at all.
You can write about how much someone falls in love with his bath towel if you so choose.
Just please, I plead with you, give me stories. I want to see the brilliance that I know you all have.
And I think it could be fun. |
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| As the newest member of this Community.(or so I think anyhow) |
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| 09:03pm 26/02/2004 |
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mood: nostalgic music: REM -- Its the end of the world. (as we know it)
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I have decided to post something nice.(at least I think its nice)
This is a Poem from a book of 'em that I wrote in 8th grade (I'm 21 now)
Note:This is the only one I could find having anything relating to love.
The Butterfly
The Butterfly,
So delicate she is,
The Butterfly.
With glass wings,
Swirling with colour
She flies thrugh the storm,
As if it were
Just a breeze.
So delicate she is,
And yet so strong,
She is,
The Butterfly
The Butterfly reminds me,
Of a friend.
A beautiful friend,
So delicaate and strong.
But I wont tell,
How the Butterfly
Flies through the storm.
How I wish I had the heart of ...
The Butterfly
And now, a poem from my Sophmore/Junior year in Highschool:
Note:I think now looking back that I was really needing someone, esspecially since none of these ones were ever titled.
I am stuck in a whirlpool,
of thought and emotion.
I no longer know the truth,
in my own words.
I no longer trust my judgement,
of other hearts.
I do not know love,
does it exist?
I do not know my own desires,
are they dangerous?
Where do I stand?
do I stand at all?
I feel so imeterial,
what is wrong with me?
I'm not dead,
I may as well be.
My pressence is a burden,
And my attitude is broken.
I want peace.
I do appologise for the length of my post as I do not know how to cut them short for posts. As to these poems, I have not written such for a long time now and I decided to make some use of the ones I did write. Share your thoughts mayhaps. |
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| Well Then. |
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| 12:14am 19/02/2004 |
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mood: annoyed music: Portishead- Only You
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So...I've disabled anonymous posting on ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif) loveisadisease.
Somebody decided it would be great to call me a whore.
Joking or not...that is not cool.
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Someone obviously decided to interpret my post of "Love = Nyeh" as insulting love. It was no such thing. I love love. I'm in love with love. Love is a wonderful thing.
But no one calls me a whiny bitch on my own community.
Grr.
Oh well. It's just been that kind of week. |
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| 10:32am 26/01/2004 |
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mood:  bored music: NIN - The Fragile
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Love = Nyeh. |
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| Getting over Her |
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| 05:12pm 26/01/2004 |
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mood:  Broken and used
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I have found myself staring into pictures of my ex. Thinking about her, why we separated in the first place. As well as even asking to come back.
I realize all of the answers. And I know I could never go back. But why after all of the pain and torture I suffered and am still being put through to this day to I think of this shit.
I loved her, I married her, she divorced and took my child from me. Why...
Give me one good reason why. |
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| FUCK 'EM |
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| 10:46pm 21/01/2004 |
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mood:  angry
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I am taking a break from the boi/man world for awhile. At least until I can find one that isn't a complete jackass and playing mind games for fun. I hate this shit...it's so stupid. I AM DONE I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD!
~The Midnite Stalker~ |
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| Hmm. |
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| 02:10am 21/01/2004 |
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mood:  quixotic music: Portishead- Only You
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I've decided to stop having sex for awhile...
I'd like to save it for a meaningful relationship...because honestly, it's always much nicer when you really care about someone.
Any thoughts on that? |
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| Just a question |
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| 06:58pm 14/01/2004 |
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mood: annoyed
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Why do men become clingy puppy dogs when women are sick, crampy, irritable, and just want to be left alone? |
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| The Very First Post... |
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| 12:33am 12/01/2004 |
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mood:  accomplished music: HIM- Buried Alive By Love
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I was bored.
So I created a community.
It's called loveisadisease...
Pretty much it's a place to write about love, romance, bad breakups, hate, meaningless sex, crushes, fights, and whatever.
Somewhere for everyone to rant about what they hate in their love-lives. Or go on for pages about the cute things their loved one does. Or talk about their crush and the agony of longing. Or just post erotica for me.
Mandi likes erotica.
Hehehehe...
Well, that's what happens when I'm bored. |
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