codfish
As a kid, I worshiped Artemis Fowl. Not because he was a nice character, but because he was brilliant. I remember cursing at myself because I didn't do well enough on a test. "Artemis wouldn't have done that," I'd say through clenched teeth. He reminds me of chess.
After writing her name on the paper, her hand smudged the ink, and that's how she felt. A smudged inkblot at the top of a piece of paper. It both thrilled and terrified her. After staring at the blotch for too long, she crumple the piece of paper up and started again. She didn't want to be a smudge.
Destiny flat out doesn't exist, and if it does, I want off this planet. I am free to do what I want, when I want. And if I am destined to do something else, it completely erases my right to free will. Everyone assumes destinies are grand, but what if you YOUR destiny is to kill 30 people and eat them? Not so much fun then, huh?
It pained me to watch the awkward man interact with the young cashier, only because his futile attempts at kindness came off as creepy and suggestive. I winced when he winked at the girl, and full on cringed when he tried to compliment her hair.
This is on of my least favorite Rush albums. With "2112" as their pinnacle and magnum opus, "Signals," with its newly introduced synthesizers and lack of hard-progressive rock we were all used to, just didn't stack up against fan favorites like "A Farewell to Kings," "Permanent Waves," "Hemispheres," and "Moving Pictures." However, the lyrics are still top notch, thoughtful, and provocative.
Three knocks on the door. Knock on wood. Knocked up. Knock, block. Knock looks like know. As a kid, I always wrote about archers "nocking" arrows (still not sure if that's right). K is silent. Like in knife.
My dad always talked about "those bleeding-heart liberals" like they were monsters. He'd sit me down and tell me he didn't want my teachers and professors brainwashing me with their liberal agenda of terror. So how do I tell him that, in the next election, I'm voting for Hilary?
Fingers tightened around cold metal, but she couldn't hold on for long. Within a few seconds, her hands slipped and she fell from the paint-peeling monkey bars and onto the mulch below. She was able to do this as a kid...why not now? What had changed?