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Jun. 6th, 2006

black books
I laks yo' kin' of lovin',
Ain't never caught you wrong
But is jes' ain' nachal
Fo' to stay here long;

It jes' ain' nachal
Fo' a railroad man,
With a itch fo' travelin'
He cain't undertan'....

I look at de rails,
An' I looks at de ties,
An' I hears an ole freight
Puffin' up de rise,

An' at nights on my pallet,
When all is still,
I listens fo' de empties
Bumpin' up de hill;

When I oughta be quiet,
I is got a itch
Fo' to hear de whistle blow
Fo' de crossin or de switch,

An' I knows de times a-nearin'
When I got to ride
Though it's homelike and happy
At yo' side

You is done all you could do
To make me stay;
'Tain't no fault of yours I'se leavin'-
I'se jes' dataway.

I is got to see some people
I ain't never seen,
Gotta highball thru some country
Whah I never been.

I don't know which way I'm travellin'-
Far or near,
All I knows fo' certain is
I cain't stay here.

Ain't no call at all, sweet woman,
Fo' to carry on-
Jes' my name and jes' my habit
To be Long Gone....

('Long Gone' ~Sterling A. Brown)

May. 16th, 2006

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oi grady:

i have a green/white dress, dinner reservations are for between 8 and 8.30, i'm buying the tickets tomorrow. i'll get back to you with more details later in the week! (this is turning into such a hassle. i beginning to look forward to when its all over, or at least when we're there)

Apr. 26th, 2006

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**points to icon**


**sends meaningful look**

now do you see? with the hawtness and the OHMYFUCKINGLORDness? see? see?! lookit!!! **drools**

alan rickman is made of sexy.


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christmas eve: dad (you know, the guy who has problems with high blood pressure and FUCKING STROKES) gets an e-mail from said brother, the youngest of his sons, saying: "here's my new contact information... BAGHDAD. no explanation, no 'i'll be home...'

christmas dinner: dad spends it talking like this: "i'm just worried he's going to be captured or killed... you go down the wrong road and..." i had to leave the fucking table.

day after christmas: claire gets online and finds our soon to be ex-brother is also there. she asks "are you still there?" he goes "where?" she says "baghdad" and he goes "...."

the message was never supposed to be sent to dad. he'll be leaving iraq on jan. 4.

fuck, but i love him. fuck, but i need him. fuck, fuck, fuck... i'm so goddamned worried about him.

Nov. 22nd, 2005

it's always interesting when you open up your e-mail and discover that someone you don't know has sent you something. that being said, when they are replying to something you asked months ago, it's just hilarious.
and i quote:

Somebody replied to your LiveJournal post in which you said:

> alright, this is going to be odd. because of something i'm not going
> mention, i just have to ask you all this question. keep in mind this
> going to be the one time i won't take offence to anything, but what
> the first thing that comes to mind when you think of me? i'm serious.
> word or more. i really need to know this, so if you all can just
> and be done with it, i'd appreciate it.

Their reply was:

fucking stupid

end quote.

first off, if you're just someone going around random lj's trying to antagonize strangers, you are pathetic. if you're not such a person, then you should know that 'fucking stupid' does not insult me in the least. considering you don't even have the strength of your convictions to sign the comment, i don't take it seriously. besides, i have outgrown the overwhelming need for the assurances of others. that entry means nothing to me, and neither does your opinion.

that being said...

you inbred piece of shit. go fuck your sister again, go stick your dick into a pencil sharpener, or go back to shaving your grandmother's legs. get the fuck away from my lj.

for england

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'You That Love England' by C. Day Lewis

you that love england, who have an ear for her music,
the slow movement of clouds in benediction,
clear arias of light thrilling over her uplands,
over the chords of summer sustained peacefully;
ceaseless the leaves' counterpoint in a west wind lively,
blossom and river rippling loveliest allegro,
and the storms of wood strings brass at year's finale:
listen. can you not hear the entrance of a new theme?

you who go out alone, on tandem or on pillion,
down arterial roads riding in april,
or sad beside lakes where hill-slopes are reflected
making fires of leaves, your high hopes fallen:
cyclists and hikers in company, day excursionists,
refugees from cursed towns and devastated areas;
know you seek a new world, a saviour to establish
long-lost kinship and restore the blood's fulfilment.

you who like peace, good sticks, happy in a small way
watching birds or playing cricket with schoolboys,
who pay for drinks all round, whom disaster chose not;
yet passing derelict mills and barns roof-rent
where despair has burnt itself out - hearts at a standstill,
who suffer loss, aware of lowered vitality;
we can tell you a secret, offer a tonic; only
submit to the visiting angel, the strange new healer.

you above all who have come to the far end, victims
of a run-down machine, who can bear it no longer;
whether in easy chairs chafing at impotence
or against hunger, bullies and spies preserving
the nerve for action, the spark of indignation-
need fight in the dark no more, you know your enemies.
you shall be leaders when zero hour is signalled,
wielders of power and welders of a new world.

for me

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'Missing Dates' by William Empson

slowly the poison the whole blood stream fills.
it is not the effort nor the failure tires.
the waste remains, the waste remains and kills.

it is not your system or clear sight that mills
down small to the consequence a life requires;
slowly the poison the whole blood stream fills.

they bled an old dog dry yet the exchange rills
of young dog blood gave but a month's desires;
the waste remains, the waste remains and kills.

it is the chinese tombs and the slag hills
usurp the soil, and not the soil retires.
slowly the poison the whole blood stream fills.

not to have fire is to be a skin that shrills.
the complete fire is death. from partial fires
the waste remains, the waste remains and kills.

it is the poems you have lost, the ills
from missing dates, at which the heart expires.
slowly the poison the whole blood stream fills.
the waste remains, the waste remains and kills.

slight spoilers

**reads hbp**




**thinks that this is NOTHING like the other books, leaves WAY too many plot holes, has next to NO characterization, and that rowling is either an evil genius bent on destroying me or SLIPPING cause seriously? no. just... dammit, NO.**

and sho, you are not allowed to gloat. same to you, grady. and not for the reasons that you'd think.

i waited in line for an hour and a half for THIS?!?!?

ALL of my characters..... gone.

**goes off to cry**

not fair. not fair AT ALL. damn you, rowling. damn you.

from articles:

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"As Brits, we'll carry on — it doesn't scare us at all," said 37-year-old tour guide Michael Cahill. "Look, loads of people are walking down the streets. It's Great Britain — not called 'Great' for nothing."


...volunteers helped the walking wounded from blast sites, commuters loaned their phones so strangers could call home and thousands faced long queues for homeward-bound buses — or even longer walks — without complaint.


"It's amazing how people have stuck together. I've seen total strangers hugging each other and people coming out into the street with free cups of tea," he [Computer technician Matt Carter, 25] said.


"I grieve with all Londoners at the wounds that have been inflicted on this wonderful city -- the city that is home to people from so many countries and cultures," U.N. Secretary General Kofi Annan said.

Rule Britannia

Jun. 28th, 2005

**seethes** fucking mugabe **snarls** fucking cnn won't cover what fucking mugabe is doing. i had to find out what's been going on for a fucking month from a birthday greeting. **goes into fucking rage** why the fuck do i have to find out what the fuck is going on through a fucking e-mail what i fucking should be finding out on fucking cnn?!?!? what kind of fucking news networks don't cover this fucking shit?!?! everybody get your fucking asses over to to see what fucking idiocy i'm talking about. for the good of zimbabwe my fucking ass!!!! give me a gun and a plane ticket and i'll show that fucking cock sucker what the fuck is good for zimbabwe! fucking idiotic prick!! they fucking crushed children in their own fucking homes!!! they fucking put fuck-knows number of people out on the fucking streets with no fucking jobs or fucking shelter in the middle of the fucking winter!!! whose fucking GENIUS idea was that?!?!?!??!?!? i will fucking kill them! i will fucking beat their fucking heads in!! **signs off before she writes anything more incriminating** the fucking bastards!! haven't they fucked up enough?!?!?!!??


black books

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