I’m lazy

I find it a bit funny that I’m too lazy to even post a blog post now and then, I even like it, its just that beginning the post is alway stressful to me. But even so, I looked up my blog and I noticed that it was still the same post as it was a couple of weeks ago, even though I said earlier that I would post something a few times a week.
So I ended up here, sitting in front of my computer at 02.30 AM on a Sunday, (I have Monday off this week), with a huge 0.6 l glass of water sitting next to my keyboard. I’m too lazy to walk back and forth with a smaller glass.
Anyway, here it goes. Can’t write anything, can’t write anything.
I’ll give it a try in the morning. Anyway, have a great evening/night/afternoon/morning.


Am I crazy?

No I am not asking you to figure out if I have a mental issue based on the many/few posts you may have read. But I am asking you to answer this uh, simple question.
Does picking a battle with my own character make me crazy?
I mean, I have planned to undo/diminish my flaw of being overly lazy at times.. Is it even possible? I wonder.
Also I want to be able to cope with rutines, I’m not much of a organized person, not at all, but I want to try and succeed at organizing some small part of my life to enable me to do my duties in time..
Is this an impossible task and/or a waste of my time, and makes me crazy if i try it?

Poetry among other things.

The weird smile.

The sun a coin of molten fire.
Heating like a huge pyre.
The dunes of sand stretched out as far as the eye could see.
The sting of sun upon uncovered skin felt like the sting of a bee.
A man dressed in black, stood on a dune and watched over to the east.
His eyes were crazed, his mind was dazed, and he thought he saw a feast.

The sun a coin of molten fire.
Heating like a huge pyre.
The man had no water, and he had not had a drink since the end of the last week.
He should have been dead but his soul did not break loose and leave him with a shriek.
He could barely stand as his eyes saw only the feast.
He could not move nor walk, no, not in the least.

The sun a coin of molten fire.
Heating lite a huge pyre.
The man tried to move and as a result was forced to fall.
He had not realized the dune he was on had a drop quite so tall.
As he landed below the top of the dune he had sank down to his hips.
His mind was lost as he thought he was swimming and kissing a woman on the lips.
The heat of the sand he was in, forced his death to come to.
Though he died of thirst in a desert he was smiling weirdly at you.
The last thing he did, in his mind at least, was something desirable to do.
He had actually lived for more than a year in fact one hundred and two.

Major changes coming up for this blog:
I am going to add categories for you to easily be able to read what you like best.
I am going to post several times a week for a longer period of time.
I am going to keep “The blog of the Week” alive and might even add an award given time.
I am going to do my best to improve the design and content.

Also, I strongly reccomend that you visit this week’s blog of the week, New York Nitty-Gritty.
Otilius has an amazing eye when it comes to taking pictures.

The life of The Damned.. Part 2

For some the actions of the characters might seem apalling and I would not reccomend you to read it if you abhor reading about violence/criminalities no matter what the story. I do not however base the entire text on violence and “criminalities” so if you are up to reading something inventive for a change you would do yourself a favor by reading on.

The Mender felt exhausted as he walked away from the alley, and despite the young woman’s urgent tone he could not make himself increase the pace of his walk. Typical, I have just mended her and she tries to tell me what to do in return.. “My lady is hold captive by your organization, They torture her often and for no reason at all.” She was repeating herself he noticed, but he did not offer her the slightest amount of attention. “For Great Mother’s sake! She needs your help or she will be tattooed!” Abrubtly he stopped, the woman’s lady was also a witch? For Mother’s sake indeed. “Fine I’ll help. Do you have any idea where they hold her?” He didn’t want anyone to experience the same fate as him, not even a witch. The tattoo at the back of his neck started throbbing lightly, a slight reminder from his mistress that he should have been back at his room by now. After the endless hours of being tortured for the smallest missteps he almost didn’t notice. Something dragging at his right arm snatched the endless array of thoughts away from him, “This way.” The young woman standing at his side said as she was dragging him eastwards. After a while of pacing through narrow streets in this filthy town she dragged him to a halt in front of a middle-sized house with the mark of the damned on it. The black hand with no thumb was placed straight above the huge doorframe. The house was not large, but not small either, and the fact that there was a large amount of clear space to all sides of it confirmed the fact that this was a residency of the damned. Noone wanted to live close to the damned.

He straightened and shook his head slightly, realizing that it was a bad idea. Then he opened the door. A huge man was blocking his path, “You have no right to barge in here, Mender!” The man right out shouted the words into his face. “Your mistress will hear of this.” Another voice said, the threat did not affect the Mender in the least. Instead he willed for the damned and his mender to be slung to his wall. He focused his mind on it and felt strength seep out of him at the same time as the clash of flash against wood was heard. He ran over to the blackhaired woman lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, took her into his arms and ran out. The last thing he heard as he exited building was three strained words. “She will hear.” He ran with her in his arms to the nearest alley, and did not stop focusing on holding the damned and his mistress pinned to the wall until he could no longer see the house or the street it was in. After that he paused in a specifically dark and narrow alley were he healed her wounds that had been created by torture. When he brushed the hair aside from here face he looked properly at her for the first time. His eyes widened as he noticed her features, her face was an image of perfection. This seemed odd to him, but after she came to, he led her towards the wooden town gates. He hid all the tattoos and the mark on his uniform when they neared the gate, and amazingly they came through without any trouble. Abruptly he started feeling a maddeningly painful sensation of burning heat all across his skin, he fell to his knees grunting in pain, he thought this was what happened to damned who walked beyond the town border, it was not until he was lying on his side cringing in pain and the woman with the perfect face leaned down, put her face clearly in front of his and smiled wickedly he realized it was her. “I saved you.” He said and the effort of it sent him into unconsciousness.
The mender was sitting on a grassy hill watching the sun set holding the hand of the woman sitting next to him. Her face was oddly familiar but he could not tie the face to a name or any memories. So he decided to just sit there and enjoy the view however, he did not let go of her hand, somehow it felt comforting holding her hand, he had no idea why he should be upset. A realization came to him “This is a dream” He thought, but given his inability to remember anything the moment after he thought it, it was gone from his mind.

At the same time a women of remarkable resemblance to the one mender was watching the sunset with was pacing around a large room thinking. Why would he dissapear like that? She thought, and even though she allready had a myriad of answers, none of them seemed to hold up with the fact that he had felt an enormous amount of pain before she could no longer feel him. He could not be dead, she hoped he was not, he might see it differently but she had begun to take a liking to her so called student. and if he was not dead allready she was not about to let him stay in the bad company he obviously was in. But she could do nothing unless he returned from unconsciousness. Will he return from the dead to if that is what he is? A voice said inside her head, she reminded herself that everything went better when you stayed positive. And decided to even as hard as it was, to stay positive. She took red bracelet from the table in front of her and fastened it to her right arm and reminded herself to stay positive. Abrubltly she started to sense him again, and at that she ran out of the room to fetch help. She had never felt so relieved in her life.

The mender was still sitting silently on a grassy hill watching the sunset holding the hand of a woman when his vision started to fade, it felt like someone was slapping him but he could see nothing so he thought he imagined it. He felt another slap land on his left cheek, he ignored it. Another one, he opened his eyes slowly. The first thing that greeted his eyes was a hand rushing forward against his face. He tried to raise his hands to shield himself but to his surprise found that they could not budge. The hand landed on his left cheek hard enough to make him taste blood.

Will add more later..

The life of the Damned Part 1

I have been suffering from a severe case of writer’s block lately, but suddenly as I was kind of boring myself nearly to death my imagination worked itself to new hights. If you’re reading this, I hope you will consider reading the entire post and even post a comment. Thank you in advance. Oh and if you notice any difference in the size of the letters, I’m on my brothers laptop at the moment, sitting in some damn old house far out in the countryside.

There was a cold breeze blowing into the face of the Mender as he drew closer to the backstreet in where his chosen victim lay in shock. Mender, bah! They call me damned for the simplest reason, I am different. He noticed the positure of her body as he came closer, she was simply lying slumped in a curled ball, bloody and beaten. He readied himself, he cleared out all thoughts and daydreams, this was not a time to be distracted.
As he walked into the dirty alley, he crouched down in front of her and took her head into his gloved hands. “Brisman, what happened to this poor gal?” he asked the man for order standing to his left. “The poor girl was raped, back and front, by many damn pervs, 5 is my guess. And mender, do your best.” “I always do.” She’s likely to be past any of the other “damned”’s abilitys, so they send me! He thought angrily, but there was no question in him helping her or not, he would help any within his ability, and he doubted there were any that he wouldn’t be able to “mend”. He focused on his hands, he put his entire awareness into focusing on his hands as he felt the sides of her head. He kept focusing entirely on the fingertips of his hand until something snatched his consience away and into the unknown. He could sense memories and sensations all around his extended awareness and he floated willingly around until he arrived at the source of her physical pain, and then he put his will to stop the floating and followingly he stopped.

He tenderly entered the source of the pain with extended tendrils of his awareness, this singular memory had been enough to shatter the remaints of sanity that had been present in her mind before the incident. Poor young girl. He thought just as he realized that she was just about his age. Time to get to work then. He let himself float around and about the girl’s awareness noting to himself what she could be doing lying in an alley at this time of day. After a while he figured that the best he could come up with was that she had been robbed, which wouldn’t carry with it the everlasting memory and pain that rape would.

So he thought of the memory as he remembered it, and sure enough, when he entered the memory closest to him, it was obvious that it was the right one. First, a blow to the head, and then awakening to the terrorizing fact that there were men standing all around her, and that she had something foul-tasting in her mouth. He instead thought of waking up laying pained and slumped curled in a tight ball realizing that her money was gone. And as he thought, her memory changed, making it identical to his idea. He simply prolonged the lying through the length of the memory, spicing it up with some twisting and a few sounds, but as he did, he was forced to experience the rape as she did, and allthought this pained him, he tried to convince himself that he had felt worse, allthough he wasn’t sure that he had. In the aftermath of finishing with her memory, he was simply floating around willingly letting himself being pulled around by the swirling presences of sensations and memories. Then he caught himself, and started out for the source of the physical pain, at the center of the nerves in her awareness. And then he flung his entire awareness between the nerves and her own awareness and willed thepain to pass faster, increasing incredibly in amount of pain, but it wouldn’t last longer then a few seconds, as his mind wen’t blank by maddening agony he willed it to pass faster and as he did the pain increased. Yet after 15 seconds that seemed to last forever the pain let go, and this bode well, for then the wounds would have knitted back together and the flesh would have healed. This was a crucial time for he had to get out before she returned from her state of unconsiousness.

Yet when he tried to swirl past the edge of her awareness he heard the word “Ungelistable” uttered. Damn, she just had to be one eh? Of course, we are talking about my luck here. He was close to despair as he hurried to the edge of her awareness. As he was closing the edge of her awareness, a spark of hope was born but as he reached it he felt himself blocked. Bloody witch. His mind rang as 3 words were spoken by an insanely loud voice “Well hello there.” The voice seemingly slightly amused. “Don’t do this to me.” He imagined himself speaking inside his mind. The voice spoke again, it was clearly female. “Why not, you entered by your own accord of course. You wouldn’t happen to be this lad who has his hands on the sides of my head would you ?” “I was simply here to ‘mend’ your wounds after the robbery. As to your other question, yes that is me.” “You seem young to be one of the damned in this town.” “Am I supposed to
tolerate this from you?” “Well since you’re at my mercy here, I’d suggest that you learn some manners, or else I’d might decide to get you lost.. Forever.”