The History of the Bent and the Broken.

I return at last from a week of no access to my own porn laptop! I'm on a writing binge right fucking now, something I haven't done in quite a while. Basically not doing anything except writing, writing and more fucking writing.  I've completed a short story, working on another and now simultaneously writing on this blog. And shivering because it's so god damned fucking cold. And smoking. And drinking coffee.

Because fuck you that's why.

I'm at a standstill in the novel mainly because I now have to ways to advance the plot, in which both ways are awesome as fuck and both ways are true.

Broken people are awesome. I think I've come to that conclusion a long time ago and they comprise of being some of my most awesome friends. It's like walking with a fucking time bomb, there's always something that might tick 'em off. Adding to that mixture of awesomeness is ego or politely speaking; self-respect. They don't show that they're broken, in which it makes it all the more fun when things go awry.

I'm saying this not because I particularly enjoy seeing already broken people break, I'm saying this because it is what it is. Imagine having a friend and actually knowing said person on an emotional and personal level and then finding out that this person is absolutely fucking nuts. I find that very comforting.

I believe our definitions of comfort vary. I for one find the act of getting my spinal cord detached from my spine very painful.

No, I'm not under the illusion that I am none the more broken than most people. However in that aspect, I don't use it to my benefit either. When you think about it, everybody is broken. There's always excess baggage that people could never seem to let go, which is a part of the healing process, I guess. Those who say that the best way to move on would be to let everything go is veritably a motherfucking retard. You don't just let everything go. If you do, there's a big chance that you'll let bits of yourself go too, and in that case, you're often left wondering about your own identity.

I get it, they say that when you finally come to terms with your misgivings, that's when shit clears up. I guess that's true in part, when you realise that you are indeed a cunt and a vile mouthed faggot, things start to get way clearer. Like why she left you, for one. However, dropping everything and deciding that 'Oh boo-hoo I shall now become a better person just because I realised that' is utter fucking bullshit to me. We need the constant reminder of pain to actually realise about the gravity of a situation. We need to remember why she left or why she died or why she all that shit to actually come to a conclusion about our fuckupperies. Sure, I'm not exactly the right person to listen to but I haven't been making the same mistakes every single time. Well, maybe some, but I attribute that to my own habits.

Like this, for one.

I believe that's why I'm in lesbians with the old days. Everything you do, you do it at your own peril, you fuck up, you deal with it. Nowadays it's all court hearings and lamentations and motherfucking gang fights. Gone are the days where people like Beren would just say 'Ah, I see, you want me to steal the most coveted jewel in the whole fucking multiverse from the evilest god-like creature that cannot die no matter what I do in the biggest baddest impenetrable fucking fortress that has ever been created just so that I can ask for your daughter's hand in marriage? Meh, worth it, where's the bastard?'

Yes, indeed, my fanboy urges have returned and it feels great to have the Silmarillion back in one's hands. I also realised that I made a mistake by putting Narn-i Chin Hurin into the family library. I miss that book so damned much now... One of these days I'm going to get cats or dogs or whatever that's pet-like and start to fucking name them after the House of Finwe or something. Then if/when they die, I shall erect tombs with fucking names on them. Here lies Feanor, son of Finwe, High King of the Noldor.

If you are familiar with it, this is the most romantic thing to have ever been done by anybody in the history of the multiverse.

Alas I no longer have any idea what I am talking about. I miss mythology. And home. Somehow the two of them blend really well together.

Eargasm of the day: I am in fucking lust with Roisin Murphy.