tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27087327043506405022024-03-14T08:51:02.767+01:00scorpioscopeIllusion's playground. Original music & small talk.SDWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05869535669537912947noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708732704350640502.post-78155664990490608362012-07-07T19:36:00.002+02:002012-07-07T19:36:35.398+02:00<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F52079706&show_artwork=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Korte track opgedragen aan Hans Zimmer.</span>SDWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05869535669537912947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708732704350640502.post-51939769414536603342012-07-07T19:33:00.000+02:002012-07-07T19:33:47.779+02:00Soundtrack Femme de le Rue<iframe frameborder="no" height="450" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Fplaylists%2F2200451&show_artwork=true" width="100%"></iframe>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Muziek dat ik gecomponeerd heb voor de korte documentaire van Sofie Peeters.</span><br />
<br />SDWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05869535669537912947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708732704350640502.post-18025100868299903762012-03-13T11:27:00.001+01:002012-03-13T12:19:18.736+01:00Kabalevsky OrchExperiment<iframe width="100%" height="450" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Fgroups%2F69226&show_artwork=true"></iframe>
For my Master Thesis! Hope the experiment will get some response!SDWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05869535669537912947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708732704350640502.post-20916523241177281732012-01-23T12:47:00.000+01:002012-01-23T12:50:15.064+01:00Trailer MusicI composed this for a wedding I filmed and edited last year.
<object height="81" width="100%"> <param name="movie" value="https://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F33878437"></param> <param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param> <embed allowscriptaccess="always" height="81" src="https://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F33878437" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%"></embed> </object> <span><a href="http://soundcloud.com/scorpioscope/trailer-music">Trailer Music</a> by <a href="http://soundcloud.com/scorpioscope">scorpioscope</a></span>SDWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05869535669537912947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708732704350640502.post-60500673795516472772011-09-04T15:14:00.001+02:002011-09-04T15:14:27.663+02:00Training Station<object height="81" width="100%"> <param name="movie" value="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F22570706"></param> <param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param> <embed allowscriptaccess="always" height="81" src="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F22570706" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%"></embed> </object> <span><a href="http://soundcloud.com/scorpioscope/training-station">Training Station</a> by <a href="http://soundcloud.com/scorpioscope">scorpioscope</a></span>
just a little fun I had, nothing bigSDWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05869535669537912947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708732704350640502.post-63689791033821737052011-09-04T15:09:00.000+02:002011-09-04T15:09:03.675+02:00Organic<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">People constantly believe they have to figure out ways to outsmart death, instead of figuring out ways to live. Grant me to build a metaphor.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The future is always unknown and because it is unknown we subconsciously link it to a feeling of death, the ultimate abyss. We feel helpless and try to figure out ways to avoid living in constant fear and doubt. We teach ourselves to follow straight lines which help us to create illusionary goals in life and give us purpose and meaning. We try to keep our balance as we carefully take a step forward on this fine line. The line hangs above the abyss and somewhere behind the dark fog we believe there is another side we can reach when we follow that straight line. It will lead our soul to salvation. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I can't help but wonder, is it not better to just leave those lines behind and jump into the illusionary abyss? Because, when walking straight forward we are constantly obliged to follow a goal we created in a distant past and evidently feel disconnected with an ever evolving world. There also is a notion of time which is far more tiresome while walking constantly on the same line at the same pace, when we could actually open up to the abyss and jump in. We will discover a whole lot of things flying towards us that demand for us to rely upon creativity and make ourselves accountable in the moment. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Music, specifically, works this way. Expectations are created the moment the first sounds struck our ears, and whenever the music evolves we evolve with it, feeding the imagination which in its turn feeds on your personal experience in life. The soil from which you build up your life garden, should get your full attention and make you get out there to discover new and inspiring influences that will help you to love the grass, the trees and those birds that flutter around in your imagination.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm trying to get rid of a linear concept of life and try to invoke a more organic concept. Well not actually get rid of the linearity but consider it to be a tool that can be used appropriately on specific occasions, rather than it to be a way of life.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Any suggestions are much appreciated.</span></div>
SDWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05869535669537912947noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708732704350640502.post-23782403151302079662011-08-28T16:08:00.003+02:002011-08-28T16:09:28.163+02:00Timothy's Odyssey<object height="81" width="100%"> <param name="movie" value="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F22069033"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed allowscriptaccess="always" height="81" src="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F22069033" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%"></embed> </object> <span><a href="http://soundcloud.com/scorpioscope/timothys-odyssey">Timothy's Odyssey</a> by <a href="http://soundcloud.com/scorpioscope">scorpioscope</a></span>SDWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05869535669537912947noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708732704350640502.post-48385316256714036692011-08-28T16:06:00.001+02:002011-08-28T16:10:28.250+02:00Timotheus<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My name is Timothy Stern. I am a simple young man with just one secret. <i>I am happy.</i> How, you ask, could such a matter be named a secret? </span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In a world of blackmail, fraud and murder, it is not unlikely to get your head cut off for smiling just a simple smile. I've had my share of misfortunes, of course, but somehow they never managed to extinguish the fire of true joy. The blood that got spilled over the face of our beautiful planet could not drown me in sorrow and disbelief. I have already been judged by God and all other deities, during one of my hallucinogenic wanderings, which brought down the weight of the world on my head. I was able to transform those divine creatures for my own creative power and bow my head in dignity. </span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Afterwards my body was weak and producing very peculiar fluids, which I will ignore to describe for the sake of healthy appetite, which led me to belief there is but one way to get up again. Setting free my imagination and destroying all cynical clusters which keep tormenting the eternal soul, as they feed glutinously on Fear's cadaver. Every individual needs to understand his or her personal doubts to maintain the balance between childish amazement and the mind-blowing jump into risky business. </span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There is no simple way to put it, because I am certain our minds are lost in the growing maze of endless possibilities. To map it out would require extreme diligent and meticulous calculations of all possible connections between the mindful maze, the inner self and the outside world. For this I have developed various attributes and started up a team to help me progress my studies for human evolution. I do admit this might sound ludicrous to human ears, but I am positively sure this is a risk I am willing to take. </span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Understanding is just a first layer of the mind's capacities. Love is its core.</span></div>SDWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05869535669537912947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708732704350640502.post-22661734098102221632011-08-25T13:01:00.001+02:002011-08-25T19:02:07.833+02:00Hopeless<object height="81" width="100%"> <param name="movie" value="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F21855936"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed allowscriptaccess="always" height="81" src="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F21855936" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%"></embed> </object> <span><a href="http://soundcloud.com/scorpioscope/hopeless">Hopeless</a> by <a href="http://soundcloud.com/scorpioscope">scorpioscope</a></span> <br />
(L'île déserte main title)SDWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05869535669537912947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708732704350640502.post-35437584065965889462011-08-25T12:54:00.001+02:002011-08-25T21:17:08.028+02:00Sleepwalking<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i>I have travelled a great deal in space. And these times, I must admit, my soul is rather gloomily imitating our foul November weather. I lift my foot from the earth, examining dirt and hopefully discovering some of Whitman's remaining immortal atoms. Something to share, far beyond space and time. On these walks I listen to voices humming tunes from a distant past, guiding me, and pushing me onward, for every step I take moves me closer to Spring.</i></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;">It seems to me that on the day of my birth, it was Ravel's bolero that would finally urge me to leave the womb, only to discover an annoyingly obscure and November-weather world. I would find but comfort in sleep, and my mother.</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i>I plant another foot beside an old pond with signs advising me not to feed the ducks. I'm still walking and remarkably sleepy. </i></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;">Does it surprise me to hear I never cried when I was a baby, yet shedding tears from an endless ocean during childhood? Who would want to disturb a sleeping baby? Who wouldn't want to punish an annoying brat? One of my earliest memories was bound with a notion of time and departure. Being left behind by my mother in some weird and huge place, filled with weird and huge creatures. I remember something like "…'ll be back in just an hour", though I probably left out "a couple of…". Well, what kind of vocabulary do you expect from a three year old? I remember trying to figure out how time exactly worked, and when the hell my mother would finally pick me up again! I watched the clock, I cried and slept; I watched the clock, cried and slept again. I don't think it had anything to do with education, this was me in one of my purest forms. A form in which I had extreme difficulty trying to connect to the outside-world.</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i>There's a cave I've never noticed before. And it seems completely out-of-place there.</i></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i>There's a statue of a forgotten Virgin, and some benches for prayers, which I'm gladly using to shelter from the rain. There's one candle still burning and I use it to lit a few more surrounding it. It fills my heart with joy for a mere second and it immediately vanishes into the gutter of my soul. I think I'm still doing what I started doing some 25 years ago. To look for some kind of connection with this world, other than sleeping. </i><i>Back on my feet again, now marching in pace with a different drummer. My legs swell up and I should mind my steps now, because they might injure some innocent bystanders. </i></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;">In the mood of an evening dinner, when darkness had already cast its light on a fearful disposition, I found myself to be a lot older, surrounded with beings that hold some kind of grudge against one another. I was anxious to sleep, but uncomfortably discovered the room filled with quiet desperation. Out of comparison and idealism grew some early signs of conscience. And this conscience was rather unhappy with the circumstance of feeling completely useless. It started to care. And at such an age, you can safely regard this conscience not capable of communicating with the mind. It rather throws up some imitated versions of emotions, freezing the surrounders with a shout and a cry, hence to see them think; "it speaks..'</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;">But of course, even the conscience eventually discovers that it cannot change anything in this manner of untempered hatred. If we are to find some peace with one another, the conscience has to grow conscious of its own complexity. Once again, I had to go to sleep. </div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i>I climb a steep hill, and in its sight is planted a stairwell leading up to a small house, almost invisibly hidden in the side of this breast-like elevation of the earth. It certainly resembles the cave I visited earlier, only there are no candles to lit the place. I wait for my eyes to adjust the darkness, and notice an extremely small living room with a broken fire-place; an open, empty cupboard, and a shelve with our suffering in full display. Even Jesus is hiding in darkness. </i></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i>This is the third house in decay I encounter on my great travels in this small town, and I'm growing a little suspicious about this coincidence, if so. Could it be that in contemplating my personal history, set forth by some uninviting November weather (even the sun's hiding!), that my feet will lead me right where my mind is staying? Am I not the visitor of this abandoned little house, but rather the inhabitant? </i><i>Now, instead of jumping up and storming out this claustrophobic place, I decide to sit down this time and stay.</i></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i>I shall arrange a meeting between my mind and its conscience. </i></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i><br />
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</i></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Helvetica Light'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i>And <b>not</b> fall asleep.</i></div>SDWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05869535669537912947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708732704350640502.post-57709513638314850092011-08-24T18:26:00.003+02:002011-08-25T19:02:27.399+02:00Mamebou's Hundred Acre Wood<object height="81" width="100%"> <param name="movie" value="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F21797151"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed allowscriptaccess="always" height="81" src="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F21797151" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%"></embed> </object> <span><a href="http://soundcloud.com/scorpioscope/mamebous-hundred-acre-wood">Mamebou's Hundred Acre Wood</a> by <a href="http://soundcloud.com/scorpioscope">scorpioscope</a></span> SDWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05869535669537912947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708732704350640502.post-1516434992152696842011-08-24T18:24:00.005+02:002011-08-25T08:30:12.693+02:00Demon-Boy<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Frank couldn't find his ass if he used both hands and a mirror. Whatever thing you <i>think</i> you've got going is worth dick." </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She smiled that cocky smile of hers and stared out of the window. "So, you're a relational therapist now, are you? I must admit, Jack, with all the women you've torn to pieces, that kind of surprises me. But let's benefit my doubt, shall we? Because I am curious. Why shouldn't I marry Frank?"</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The night when Renee was hiding under her bed, she must've known something was wrong. She had just eaten too many oranges and her belly was aching horribly. There was a storm outside and the full moon shone hard, casting murky shadows on the bedroom wall. Her imagination got tangled up in the wrestling marathon of her tummy and gave birth to visions of horrible monsters and bloody battlefields. There was fear in her eyes when Jack called her out from under the bed. He had made her a booboo buddy for her stomach ache, and told her to press the hot sock against her belly. Jack never was a big fan of tragic conversation, but this was one catastrophic event even he couldn't embellish with a zest of comic relief. This was a bitter pill to swallow, for both of them.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Haven't I always been there for my baby sister? Keep you from getting into trouble?"</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The presumptuous and tense smile around her lips ceased to exist as she contemplated on those words. She was fully concentrated now, and Jack had but one shot to keep her from marrying dumb-ass Frank.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Do you remember that night a couple of months back. You went out on a date with Frank, and in the middle of the night you came knocking on my door. You had sensed something was wrong then, like you very often do. You have a gift to smell the shit before it hits the fence."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Things have changed, Frank has changed. He was in debt, he got into trouble, and finally he got out."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"No one ever gets out that kind of mess."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Look, Jack, do you remember about the night our parents died?"</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"How could I forget?"</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"I had the worst stomachache and you brought…"</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"…I brought you a booboo buddy…"</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Yes… I know you feel like you need to take care of me, Jack. Prevent me from making stupid decisions, but I'm a grown woman now, I can deal with this situation."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Jack was losing the battle, running out of artillery to manipulate her mind. Maybe it was time to let go. <i>Maybe</i>.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Renee was sitting on the porch as she peeled the skin from her second orange. The sun blooded the sky. The wind was rushing hard over the fields and through Jacks hair. He wanted to cry but his tears vaporized as soon as they touched his skin. His hands were smeared with blood as he held his mother in his arms. He didn't really want to kill them, just show <i>him</i> he wasn't afraid. Just show <i>him</i> he actually loved that dog. The father took the dog's life as a punishment for the boy's disobedience, and made him bury it. Jack gave him a blow with the shovel in the back of the neck as mother just walked in on them. He had to strangle his mother, while she cursed him to hell. <i>Demon-boy</i>. Only thing he wanted to do was run, but he had to take Renee, he couldn't leave <i>her</i> behind.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"My tummy hurts." Renee cried as Jack ordered her to grab some clothes.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"I'm tired of running, Jack. I have seen the scenery change far too often. I need to settle down. I'm gonna meet with Frank now. And we will get married, with or without your consent."</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"You're <i>not</i> meeting Frank, Renee..."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In her eyes he could see the same doubt that clouded her mind all this time from seeing the truth the day they left the house. For Jack, Renee was right about one thing though, they had been running for too long. They had to stop.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"...Frank's <i>dead</i>."</span></div>SDWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05869535669537912947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708732704350640502.post-80206177041967608352011-08-23T20:26:00.003+02:002011-08-25T19:02:42.044+02:00LadyBug<object height="81" width="100%"> <param name="movie" value="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F21725992"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed allowscriptaccess="always" height="81" src="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F21725992" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%"></embed> </object> <span><a href="http://soundcloud.com/scorpioscope/ladybug">LadyBug</a> by <a href="http://soundcloud.com/scorpioscope">scorpioscope</a></span> SDWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05869535669537912947noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708732704350640502.post-11933106972011230522011-08-23T15:27:00.004+02:002011-08-23T15:57:31.148+02:00Coccinellidae<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There's a gun I could use to force my way out of here, unfortunately it's empty and I sure as hell wouldn't know how to bluff a turd into gold. Ain't much of a gambler and only played <i>one</i> game of poker since my day of birth. It had cost me a month's salary and a furious hurricane in the form of a woman. </span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My woman. <i>Ladybird</i>. Never saw a lady so goddamn' good-lookin' and have such character that'll make you think twice on when to break another heartbeat. Her eyes are the color of a high noon sea, you'd drown in your mind if you stared in 'em too long. Her black hair'd convince you there was no god capable of ruining such a pretty sight. </span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">No god could, but man did. </span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In his infinite stupidity man somehow sees himself fit to blood the rivers of beauty and strangle an earthbound angel, only to define the personality he needs to conquer a fictional world. His own. I have joined the brotherhood of stupidity and easily found a purpose to die. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My vengeance never tasted sweet, but I cut off all hope of regaining any previous chance to live in grace, long ago. And now I can cut off all hope to die in grace as well. </span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">From behind the altar I stand up to meet the vendetta and take down to hell all greedy consumers of divine beauty. I don't feel the bullets, I don't feel the pain. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I break a neck and stab a heart. Drain life from lives I do not care about. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The light dissipates through the stained glass from behind the alter as I suddenly remember for no obvious reason some old nursery rhyme. I feel the cold iron barrel of the gun against the back of my neck. I do not shiver.</span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Ladybird, Ladybird, fly away home </i></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Your house is on fire and your children are gone</i></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>All except one… </i></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>click.</b></span></i></div>SDWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05869535669537912947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708732704350640502.post-36955504380999794182011-08-22T18:23:00.008+02:002011-08-25T19:00:52.074+02:00War Machine<object height="81" width="100%"> <param name="movie" value="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F21660082"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed allowscriptaccess="always" height="81" src="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F21660082" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%"></embed> </object> <a href="http://soundcloud.com/scorpioscope/war-machine">War Machine</a> by <a href="http://soundcloud.com/scorpioscope">scorpioscope</a>SDWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05869535669537912947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708732704350640502.post-15329708442791937752011-08-22T18:17:00.003+02:002011-08-22T20:47:28.803+02:00Fatigue<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I drowned the sharp ticking of the clock in the fat sound of a deep yawn. It felt like there was a huge gap between me and that thing which I perceived as being the world. People were running around like rabbits with ribbons wrapped around their wrists, leaving nothing behind but an enormous innocent fart. </span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If I didn't know any better, I'd believe I was different. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I<i> </i>was living in the shade, rather than dying in the sun. I was floating on a breeze and not drowning in the storm. Yes, if I didn't know any better, I'd believe my love was mature, none of that puppy love could throw <i>me</i> off course. Of course, I did know somewhat better.</span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She anchored her ship in the shade, and slowly set down her feet on the shore. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Leaving traces in the sand, she came with the sun to hide from the smell. I felt slop solidifying in the corner of my eyes, as I blinked to adjust to the new exposure. She asked questions in reasonable doubt, which I answered in unreasonable belief. I spoke like a turtle and she smiled like a bunny while tying the ribbon in her hair.</span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I whispered the silent whisper of a gasp and felt my cartilaginous shell melt and then vaporize into thin air. The smell forced me to step out and find comfort in the shade of her bosom, which she kindly offered as my new home. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now her beating heart <i>is</i> my wristwatch. I do not feel the need for lazy lamentations any more, but can finally hop along our chaotic existence and eventually die gracefully in the sun.</span></div>SDWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05869535669537912947noreply@blogger.com0