Under The Bridge

Hell comes now from another side. Does it matter? Well, some idiots apparently learned some lessons, and let whichever leftist jesus try and turn the other cheek...looks like this time that cancer cell will burn, quite rightfully.

My favorite author will be leaving for hell pretty soon, too. Too early, too horrible.

Powerfail? Downswing coming after such a nice day? Why?

Too bad i cant even cut this particular bullshit out.

The idea of panels and especially the dates they're set on doesn't make anything better.

And am i wrong to want the little things? The grass is indeed greener on the other side. Neon-green.

I'm not lying, really, i just had a lot on my mind and that i said. Most of it is really too ugly.

Not a new sin or something, but it's the attempt to think what would you do in a given situation is what i hold. How anything can be turned into a laugh...can it? I want to be...you? with you? like you?

Tired of apologizing for wanting what i deserve.

Things so small i cant speak about, nobody is interested enough to listen to that sort of stuff, but from various small things stems a big one.

I feel bad.

Alone again.

Everything is illuminated?

Looks like i'm being a vampire again, shame shame, but it makes me so happy, and doesnt seem like anyone minds, and it's so easy to be happy this way, crazy hypers, and i dont think i ever drew more in my life, what with external pressure and stuff, that sort of reaction was just the thing i needed, and tho it's pretty out of point to expect any reaction at all...it was awesome.

The comparison is older than the world, but it's exactly the sun-earth-moon transition. The moon is dark, but shines quite prettily if i give it something to reflect...almost never by itself, but i can't shine by myself too, and the sun...is everyone's, and i spread the light only if i catch it myself...and that's vampirism.

Asimov's genius story about all the suns running down should clearly present itself here, but that's not the point, i dont think i runs down in this aspect.

Guess not everything can go down the knife.

My pull towards it is balanced on the edge, bringing it to stasis was not too easy, and it's all pretty much like tickling a sleeping dragon.

Also, photoshop is being nice to me.

And why exactly i think i deserve more attention...where's that silly notion from. Help and presence should be given without any expectations. I'm not the chased goal. I'm not much use. I'm just that...bit of a horrible creature.

I wander around with infinite wings in my bag. Anyone wants to fly?

A can bounces off my head.

Winter is really mocking me this year. Or have i grown to be a coward...because since when i give a damn who sees what...

Maybe i need professional help, only my poor professional help is probably snoring his ears off at this hour. Damn army.

My hands are full of microscopic cuts and glass splinters. It's suffering for art, or something. The result is quite pretty.

No, i'm not my favorite cartoon character. I can barely finish a day on an upswing.

My show won't go on air at all.