http://www.cgc
wow..simply..w
So..I was up at 9am this morning. A bit of a headache. It escelated to a huge one with nausea and being disoriented by 11. Been in bed from 11 until now and only moderately better. The nausea is coming back along with the other schtuff..like the ring.
I think I need a ventilation hole in the back of my head.
I just finisihed watching saw..and I have to say that is was NOT what I expected at all. Not a blood and gore type movie. Very well shot, written and executed.
I think the ending was a bit on the weak side but it was still a good movie.
*drool*
ok..this is serious. I want to work with an artist on this project. I want someone who can and will put effort into making the best possible comic we can.(their art, my writing)
if you think you'd like to or know someone who might..take a look at my deviant account and then msg me if you are still interested.
http://www.dar
my account: www.Ascelin.de
I am VERY proud of this piece. It seems to have broken my apathy into a million pieces
The only light that shown in his apartment was from the tears tin-foiled windows and the cracks in the roof. His electricity had been turned off weeks ago and the only reason he had running water and gas was because the Charity Mission on Fourth St. kept paying those bills. Charities and neighbors that felt, either guilty, or, obligated, gave him the few bites of food he had. The clothes he wore were from second hand shops or the few articles he had when he was released.
His only real pleasure was smoking. He spent hours smoking and watching as the smoke danced in and around the daggers of light on his loft floor. He watched as it mingled with the dirt that floated in the air in an odd ballroom dance. Smoking seemed to be the only thing that was keeping him sane. Smoking and thoughts of revenge...and of her.
He’d smoke the cheapest cigarettes he could buy. He’d get them a dozen cartons at a time and smoke a carton a day. The only ashtray he owned sat on his table and overflowed with butts that had been there since he’d moved in. Cleaning up the remnants of his sticks was the last thing on his mind.
The table itself was worse for wear. The varnish had long been rubbed off and a leg was missing so, when he leaned against it, he had to perch just right or the mountain of paperwork and photographs would plummet to the already littered floor.
The few people that visited were always overwhelmed by the smell of tobacco. It seemed to permeate everything from the chairs to the door. Even the hall around his apartment wreaked of his cheap smokes.
His mind was lost in deep in thought as his last cigarette burned out in his fingers. Any other person would have made a noise as the fire seared his flesh. He glanced down nonchalantly and cast the butt onto the floor. As the cherry from the cigarette died, he glanced down at his watch. 11:00, time for him to go.
He couldn’t tell if it was the chair or him that creaked louder when he stood. The time he had spent locked away had been hard on his body and the other inmates even harder. His scars seemed to pulse in anticipation and his nerves were causing his hands to shake.
“Easy, Miller. You’ve been a fuck up all your life. Tonight you get to see her again so you need to calm down.” His words were more for his conscious mind, an attempt to calm the few fears he had. He knew what he needed to do so, with a sigh, he picked up a tote bag ad headed out the door.
He looked at his watch as he walked into the convenience store. It was 11:15. “Soon,” he thought” I’ll see you soon. But first, I have to take care of some business.”
He bought a pack of cigarettes and lit one before he walked out of the store. The cashier was too intimidated by this tall, rough, haggard, scarred and scowling man to say anything to him except:” Sir, you can’t…um…never mind.”
He snickered at her as he opened the door. Ten years ago she would have been trying to take him home now his features betrayed his soul. Old, tired and filled with anger.
Miller was in the shadows at the edge of the store and halfway through his second smoke, when he saw the man he had been waiting for. He looked at his watch. It was 11:30. He ran his hand through his salt and pepper hair and walked towards the car.
“Some people are just too predictable, even after all these years.” He opened the back passenger’s side door and hid himself in the floorboard.
The driver emerged from the store, got into the car and drove away with his stowaway comfortably hidden.
The man was passing through the industrial side of town on his way home. He always did. For almost two decades he drove through the rancid cesspool that was the lower port area. He did this because it was quicker than the parkway. He didn’t mind the smell of landfill or the sight of the multitude of homeless that gathered around the chimneystacks in tattered clothes for heat. That was part of the joy for him. He had climbed his way up the police ladder and had a comfortable position in the office of the chief of police. So, he took pleasure in seeing those lower than him huddled together as he drove by in his new car on his way to his new home. It was good to be him and he smiled at that thought.
“Always predictable to a fault, Scotty, always.”
Scott’s blood ran cold. Those whispered words came from a voice he’d never thought he’d hear again. A voice he thought long dead. He glanced in his rearview mirror but didn’t see anyone.
“Miller? Is that you?” Scott’s voice was quaking with fear. If it wasn’t his imagination playing tricks on him, he was in trouble.
“Yeah, Scotty boy, it is.” He was proud of himself for keeping his cool and quelling the nervousness in his voice. He sounded cold and calculating and that was what he wanted.
“Where are you, Miller? I can’t see you in my rearview.”
“That’s the point, Scotty. If I had wanted you to see me then you would have seen me by now. Do you feel the pressure in the back of your seat? That, dear buddy, is my 45 and if you deviate from what I say, you’ll know what the slug in the chamber feels like. Now, knowing you, we should be close to the oil refinery’s steam stacks, right?”
“Um, yeah, Miller. We are. Why? What’s going on?”
“ You sound nervous, Scott. You should be. Pull over by the stacks and do it now.”
“ Ok, ok. Just don’t do anything rash, man.”
He pulled off the main road onto an old, paved one. He drove to the steam stacks of the oil refinery. Scott’s nostrils filled with the putrid odor of unrefined oil and smog. Those things added to his fear and made his stomach convulse. He held it in for fear of being shot by his old friend but he couldn’t resist the urge any longer. He threw open his door and vomited on the ground. He didn’t quit until his dry heaves hurt.
Miller stepped out of the back and stood in front of his former partner and waited patiently. When Scott’s heaving subsided and he was bent over, staring at the ground, Miller grabbed him by the hair and pulled him from the car. To add insult to the coming injury, he drug Scott through his own vomit.
Several yards from the car Miller stopped, let go of Scott’s hair, and turned to face him. He knelt in front of his ex-friend and watched with a sadistic glee as Scott sat up on his knees, heaved again and cried.
“What the fuck do you want you bastard?”
Scott was screaming but Miller stayed cool. He was finding it easier to be calm in light of what he was going to do. He kept telling himself that he was going to see her tonight so it was fine.
Calmly Miller answered.” Scotty, you and I were friends, partners. We shared everything for a decade on the force and years before that. Hell, you and I graduated from high school together! I don’t want to hurt you, Scott. You know who I want. Tell me where to find both of them and I’ll let you live.”
Scott may not have been the smartest man in the world but he knew what would happen if he sold those two out.
He spat at Miller” Fuck you, you murderer! You think I’m going to tell you anything you’re crazy! Oh yeah! I forgot! The courts already decided…”
Neither the shot from the barrel of the 45 nor Scott’s screams were heard past the white noise of the refinery. That’s why Miller chose the spot. It was private enough that no one would see him extract information from Scott. He really didn’t plan to shoot him in the thigh. He’d aimed for the ground next to him but the years in lockup seemed to have dulled his aim. Still, Scotty boy need not know that.
“Look, Scott, you’re bleeding and that looks like it needs to be taken care of soon. So, just tell me where to find them and I’ll let you live. If you don’t, well…” This time he did intend to shoot him, directly in the shoulder.
Scott screamed for a moment and cried for a moment more. He didn’t want to die but he didn’t want to have the wrath of those two on him, either. It occurred to him, though, that, if he told Miller, he would kill the two and then go back to lock up. Scott would be free of the sociopath and the two puppeteers. Realizing this, he mustered the little strength he had and coughed.
“Ok, Miller. I’ll tell you. Henricks moved five years ago. He lives in Woodland Heights by himself. He and his wife divorced shortly after you went down. Mackly still lives where he’s always lived. Mac’s the chief of police now and Henricks is the District Attorney. You have no idea who you’re messing with.”
Miller looked at the ground for a minute and then at his life long friend. In a somber tone he said:” Scott, you and I have been through a lot together. I know what I’m getting myself into and who I’m up against. They did let us read in lock up. Don’t worry about me, though. After I take care of them I am going to see her.”
Scott laughed out loud, this time. He couldn’t help himself. The absurdity of Miller’s last statement was too much. “ You are going to see her? Right! So, what kind of medications did they give you in there, Miller? Jesus, you have gone off the deep end.”
Miller laughed with Scott as he stood and turned away. “ Maybe I have gone off the deep end, Scotty, but what do you expect after everything? There is no way I could ever be sane again.”
Scott was catching his breath when he heard a hammer cock. He looked up to stare down the barrel of Miller’s 45.
“Scott, I may be crazy but I will see her tonight. Oh, and I know I said I wouldn’t kill you…I lied.”
One gunshot later Miller was driving his old partner’s new car towards District Attorney Henricks’s home.
Driving from the industrial park to Woodland Heights was like driving from hell to a pretentious purgatory. All of the houses lined perfectly together in a cookie cutter pattern with the same fences, the same cars, even the same lawn jockeys. Miller had wanted this life once but now it was all a disgusting farce that made him sick to his stomach.
One death down, two to go. He still had a hard time believing he had killed Scott. The only other times he had killed someone was in self-defense in the line of duty. His nerves got the better of him and he has to pull over to vomit. The taste of bile filled his mouth as the smell of honeysuckle from the roadside filled his nose.
“Bittersweet until the end, Miller. Jesus, man, pull yourself together. You have to do this. You have to. It’s been too many years since you’ve seen her and these bastards have it coming to them. Get your game face back on, get back into the car and get your ass to Henricks’s house. Now!” He shook off his nerves; suppressed the vomit and drove the rest of the way to Henricks’s house in silence, lost in thoughts of her. He would see her tonight. He knew it.
William Henricks stumbled around in the dark looking for his robe. The dogs had been barking relentlessly for minutes and the housekeeper wasn’t doing anything to shut the mutts up. Completely exasperated at deciding to have this housekeeper deported, he made his way downstairs to check the locks on the doors and quiet the dogs.
With the dogs taken care of and the locks firmly in place he was making his way back upstairs when he heard the computer in his study boot up. If he caught that damned maid on his computer she would be lucky if her entire family didn’t end up back in the little shit hole country he pulled them from.
He threw open the door and entered the darkened room screaming in Spanish only to see no one inside. The only sign of activity was an indiscernible tune playing through his PC’s speakers. Furious that anyone would dare come into his private study, he stormed over to his desk to shut the computer down before he found the maid and fired her.
He went white reached his terminal. Whoever had turned the computer on had also opened all of his private folders. Dozens of pictures were open and several movies were playing and looping. The music he had heard was from one he’d bought from a South American filmmaker. His hands trembled in rage as he moved the mouse to close it all down. Then a lighter flared and the cherry of a cigarette came to life in the corner of the room.
“ I wouldn’t close those things out if I were you, Willie. I’ve got them all tied into a worm program that will email the bulk of your little private life to every news agency in your voting district. So, move that fat finger away from the mouse, now.”
Never one to be intimidated, Henricks growled as his hand moved the mouse closer to the close button.” Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do in my own home? I will do what I damn well please.”
Nonchalantly Miller puffed on his cheap cigarette.” Come one, Willie, you don’t really want to take the chance that I’m telling the truth, do you? Think about what that will do to you. If your Pandora’s box were opened for the world to see it would be disastrous for you. So, be a good little hypocrite and sit down.”
Henricks thought about pushing the button. His arrogance knew that he was untouchable. He could smell his own sweat bead on his forehead and feel his heart thump with uncertainty. If he could see the intruder he could judge better if the man was bluffing or not. As it were, all he could see was the cherry of a very bad smelling cigarette glowing in the darkness. With a stream of profanities, he put the mouse down and seated himself.
Still as pompous as ever he looked in the direction of the ember and asked:” So, what do you want? If it’s a favor, this isn’t how you go about it. If its money, I’ll see you hung. So, what is it you want and how the hell did you get into my house? The stupid fucking wetback is going to have her ass fired when I get out of this.”
A puff of smoke.” William, be real. Maids can be paid off. Isn’t that what you always say? Everyone has their price? I don’t want money from you, Willie. I don’t care about the number of zeros you can put on a check. And I don’t want a favor. Well, I guess what I want really is a favor of sorts.” When Miller leaned forward from the shadows Henricks breath left him and he jumped in his chair.
“Miller? Oh my god. The parole board finally let you out. Or is your sentence up already? I didn’t think I would ever see your face again.” Henricks tried to keep talking while he searched for the police call button under his desk but Miller was one step ahead of him.
“ You might not want to do that, Willie. I’ve already bypassed the system so it’s looping itself. You could press that button until doomsday and the police would never show up.” He stood, grabbed the tote bag and walked towards the desk.” The parole board had nothing to do with my release. You sentenced me to life in prison or did you forget that day? I haven’t. It was one of the most devastating days of my life. But, fate and a bleeding heart law student had other plans for me. You see,” Miller lit another smoke” I was there for six years being beaten and abused for what you sentenced me for. For six years I was bloody, even in solitary confinement I was the object of brutality. If it wasn’t the inmates it was the guards. They don’t like people like me on the other side, Willie.
After six years I was stabbed enough times to be rushed to the hospital. They operated on me for thirteen hours and I died on the table three times. Three times I beat your sentence, William. But I couldn’t get out on my own. Luckily an intern law student heard about me and began working on my case.
Four years later I was out. Four more years of beatings and torture. I have no idea who the intern was because I only received a hand full of letters but I will be forever grateful to whomever it was for giving me this chance.”
William Henricks felt his hopes die on the spot.” Miller, I did what I felt was best! What I felt I had to do. You can’t blame me for that, can you? You always did what you thought was best. Please, Miller, don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
Miller wasn’t listening. He was rummaging through his tote bag until he pulled out a large, serrated knife. He made eye contact for just a few seconds before he smelled shit and piss.
“Damn it, William, you’ve gotten fat and incontinent in your old age. Pull yourself together, man. This isn’t for you. This, however, is for you.” Miller pulled out a sawed off double barrel ten gauge shot gun with a pistol handle “This is for you. Now open your robe. Do it before I blow your face off.”
Henricks slowly untied the rope and opened his robe. He had the perverted thought that he was about to be raped and he liked the idea. His belly hung low and his once firm chest sagged like the breasts of an old woman.
Miller chuckled at the sight. He remembered working out with this man. He recalled how the women would fall over each other to get his attention. He also remembered Henricks’s dirty secrets.
“ I see you’re body has started to reflect the filth on the inside, William. It’s fitting, really. After all you’ve done, its nice to see that God started paying you back and, tonight, you will get to meet him. Just like I will get to see her.”
Miller sat down across from Henricks and watched him for a minute. He wanted to see the anxiety rise in his eyes. He wanted to see him sweat and squirm. He wanted to see if he was still as deviant as always. He saw the smirk on Henricks’s face that told him he wasn’t wrong.
With a disgusted sigh he raised the barrel to Henricks’s face.” Now. Grab your dick.”
Confused, William just looked at Miller. “What? Why? Oh you are the kinky one, Miller. All those years in lock up leave you a little more bent than you’d like? Or is it that no woman wants you now?” Henricks smiled as he grabbed himself from under his robust belly.
He wasn’t bothered by Henricks’s comment at all. The years of abuse in lock up had exposed him to more sickening comments and acts. “No, that’s the way I want the police to find you tomorrow. I want them to see your carcass sitting there with your little pecker in your hand watching the kiddy porn that you so enjoy. I know you have the cops in your pocket so I took the liberty of emailing all of your folders to all of the media. They will have a field day. I know I said they wouldn’t get them unless you closed the windows out but I lied. So sue me.”
Henricks’s jaw dropped. He was ruined. The local authorities and the F.B.I would investigate him. His private life would be exposed. Everything would be ruined. His house of cards had just come down.
Miller cocked both of the hammers back and looked into Henricks’s eyes one last time” Keep your hand on your dick you fucking pervert. I kept your secret. I thought it was something you were getting help for. I believed you when you said it was only pictures and movies. You’re a fucking lying pile of shit and I’m about to send you someplace that is worse than where I’ve been. And, when I see her tonight, I’ll let her know that you’re roasting in hell.”
Both barrels emptied and the only thing left of William Henricks’s head was painted on the portrait behind his body. Killing Henricks was much easier than killing Scott. He had it coming to him and his soul would never rest after the media finished picking his carefully hidden past apart.
He tossed the last of his cigarette at the Henricks’s body and left his house.
“Karma’s a bitch. 12:15. I’m actually running a few minutes ahead of schedule so I can take my time getting to Mackly’s place. I’m coming, baby. Just a little longer and we’ll be together again.”
Two down and one to go.
Mackly wasn’t at home. Damn, that threw a kink in Miller’s plans. He wasn’t at his favorite bar, either. Miller racked his addled brain until he came up with the only place he knew that he could be. He was at the police headquarters. Mac was always a workaholic. He checked his watch 12:45. He needed to hurry up before he ran out of time. He guessed that Mac’s office was the only light on in the bureaucratic complex, which made it easier to find, or, at least, Miller hoped it would. His most pressing issue, though, was how to get in without going through the front door. He didn’t want to cause a ruckus just yet.
He couldn’t find another entrance to sneak into. “Fuck it, I’ve been lucky so far. Let’s see how much luck I have left in this fucked up life.” He grabbed his tote bag and strolled in the front door.
His heart was about to jump out of his chest and he could feel his nerves trying to get the better of him again. He quelled everything and tried to enjoy the walk. The evening was clear and crisp with a nice breeze blowing. The sprinklers had just come on so the smell of moist sod hit his nose. It was a great smell, the smell of freedom and simpler times with her. The days they’d spend playing under the sprinklers and laughing; the quiet times they would spend together; the times he’d just read to her. He smiled at his thoughts and grinned at the idea of being with her again.
He braced himself for hell as he opened the doors. The police on duty would search him and his bag, they’d try to arrest him; he’d have to kill innocent men and possibly ruin his chance getting Mackly.
He thanked his dumb luck when he walked in and saw the only guard on duty step into the bathroom. He slipped around the metal detector and into the elevator. He remembered the window and guessed at the floor.
No music in the elevator; just his thoughts. His thoughts of the last ten years, of his plans, of the reason he ended up behind bars. He thought deeply about what he was doing here, a building that he knew he couldn’t escape. Everything came to the forefront of his mind, all the doubts, all the nervousness, everything. Why was the question that persisted. Why do this? Why exact revenge on people he hadn’t seen in a decade? Why risk his life for this?
“Because,” he told himself” after I am done, I get to see her again.” He grinned a little as the elevator stopped. Stepping off the elevator he glanced down to see it was 12:50. He knew it was almost time; he would see her soon. As soon as he finished his business he would be with her again and this time it would be forever.
Finding Mackly’s office was simple. Miller just walked down the dimly lit hallway looking for an office with his name on the door. After all, the chief of police had to have a plaque on his door. He hadn’t passed a cleaning cart or even seen a janitor in his quest. This was a good sign. It meant no one would find them before he could finish his business.
The sign said Joshua Mackly, chief of police but Miller knew him as Joshua Mackly, former friend, crooked cop and all around son of a bitch.
Mackly was sitting at his desk, going over paperwork when he heard a knock at the door. “Who is it this lat e at night?”
A raspy voice with a Spanish accent said” Housekeeping. Needing of the trashcan, por favor.”
“Oh, yeah. Hang on, let me unlock the door for you.” Mackly had no time to react. When he opened the door Miller was on top of him before he knew anything happened.
Miller had his serrated knife in hand as he busted through. It found its way through Mackly’s right hand and into the desk. Mackly started to scream in pain but Miller put his index finger over Mackly’s mouth and his 45 to Mackly’s forehead.
“ I swear I will blow your head off if you scream, Josh. It’s not time to die yet but I will forego the dramatics and blow your brains out your window if you make so much as a peep. Then you and Henricks will have matching holes”
“You killed Henricks? You have gone crazy haven’t you Miller? You always were a fuck up. I guess some things never change.” The bravado was coming through the pain of having a foot long blade through his hand. He was, after all, the chief of police. He was untouchable because he was the law. He was like a god. All he had to do was convince this psychopath of that fact.
“ It is 12:55, Josh. Do you know what happens at one o’clock? Do you even remember?” The coldness in his voice wasn’t an act. He was here with the man who was key in putting him away. The man who separated him from her and Miller was going to take the time to make sure Mackly knew what was about to happen.
“ It’s time for you to go to hell, Miller. With the push of the right button I can have the entire city force in my office. You’ll never make it out alive you piece of shit. You should have stayed locked up.”
Miller learned a long time ago to not let insults bother him especially from the doomed. Still, he pistol whipped Mackly for good measure then sat one the floor where Mackly’s blood was collecting.
“Josh, in less than five minutes it will be one o’clock in the morning August 29th and you mean to tell me that you have no idea what happens?”
Grimacing but still defiant Mackly looked at Miller and spat through clenched teeth:” Fuck you.”
Miller blinked at Mackly the way a dog owner blinks when their pet does something incredibly stupid and said:” It’s an anniversary, Josh. The anniversary of the event that got me sent away for a decade.”
Mackly laughed.” So, it’s been that long already, huh? Man, and that was such a great time too. I wish we could all relive that over and over again. Don’t…”
Mackly couldn’t finish because Miller lost it. He pistol-whipped him until blood flowed freely from gashes all over his face, his front teeth had been beaten out and his nose was broken.
Miller stood up and aimed the gun at Mackly.” Josh, it was what you and Henricks did that sent me away. It was what you did to her that sent me to a place that your nightmares couldn’t imagine. I trusted you and Scott and Henricks and you all betrayed me! When you needed a fall guy you chose me! We were all buddies. We ran the racket together. We did everything together! But you sent me to die!
One o’clock was when the coroner said the time of death occurred. One o’clock. After hours of sexual abuse and torture! You sodomized her, raped her, murdered her and then pinned it on me! ME! It was you and that freak Henricks and I took the fall! You even got my partner to lie for you! It made all that easier since Henricks just happened to be the judge over the case!”
He pistol-whipped him again but stopped when it looked like Mackly would lose consciousness.
“Listen to me. In one minute you are going to die. You will join Henricks and Scott in that special place in hell I prepared for you. You’ll roast for eternity and I pray that the demons do to you what you did to her! I hope they do what the inmates and guards did to me!
They don’t like molesters in prison, Josh. They really don’t like molesters that murder. Can you imagine what it was like for me? Ten years of being beaten, abused, and looked down upon by criminals when I didn’t do anything to deserve it? Can you?”
“You won’t get any remorse or apologies from me, Miller. It felt good to do her and it felt even better to see you ass hauled away for it. Fuck you and fuck her too.”
“That’s where you are wrong, Josh. I don’t want an apology, or remorse. I just want you to die.”
Miller’s watch went off. The alarm the signaled one o’clock. He shot Mackly in the kneecap and the other hand. He knew he’d been heard but he didn’t care. He grabbed the knife from Mackly’s hand and began stabbing him. He didn’t stop until his watch read 1:10.
Covered in blood, he reached for the phone, dialed 911 and lit a cigarette. When the operator answered he told her he’d just murdered the chief of police. The reaction was almost instantaneous. He heard the sirens outside and knew the s.w.a.t. team was taking positions around the building.
“ Well, Miller, you may be a fuck up but you did this right. Now, get your ass off the floor and straighten yourself up. You’re about to see her again.”
He stoically raised himself from the bloody mess that was once Chief of Police Joshua Mackly and made his way to the elevator.
On the elevator he took out an envelope with her picture in it. He began crying as he opened it. It was the last picture the two of them took together. It was a beautiful sunny day and she had loved her birthday party. Everything was perfect; the sun, the blue sky, the presents, everything was perfect. It was her fifth birthday.
“Daddy will see you soon, baby. The bad men that hurt you are gone, now, Beth Ann. We’ll be together soon.” He kissed the picture just before the doors opened.
His 45 was empty and he realized he couldn’t make it out alive but he raised it as he walked towards the front doors. The police saw this as a signal of aggression and he had 200 bullets in him in ten seconds.
Everything went dark. He went numb and the last thing he heard was the sound of the paramedics saying there was no way they could save him. He forced one last smile before he passed.
He smiled as he made his way toward the light and saw his own little angel waiting for him with open arms and a big grin.
Yeah… daddy was home.
Bushido, the way of the samurai, grew out of the fusion of Buddhism and Shintoism. This way can be summarized in seven essential principles:
1. Gi: the right decision, taken with equanimity, the right attitude, the truth. When we must die, we must die. Rectitude.
2. Yu: bravery tinged with heroism.
3. Jin: universal love, benevolence toward mankind; compassion.
4. Rei: right action--a most essential quality, courtesy.
5. Makoto: utter sincerity; truthfulness.
6. Melyo: honor and glory.
7. Chugo: devotion, loyalty.
These are the seven principles underlying the spirit of Bushido, Bu--martial arts; shi--warrior; do the way.
The way of the samurai is imperative and absolute. Practice, in the body, through the unconscious, is fundamental to it, thus the enormous importance attached to the learning of right action or behavior.
Bushido has influenced Buddhism, and Buddhism has influenced Bushido; the elements of Buddhism found in Bushido are five:
* pacification of the emotions;
* tranquil compliance with the inevitable;
* self-control in the face of any event;
* a more intimate exploration of death than of life;
pure poverty.
Before the Second World War Zen Master Kodo Sawaki used to lecture the greatest masters in the martial arts, the highest authorities of Budo. In English "martial" arts is confused with "arts of war," but in Japan there is only: the way. In the West the "martial arts" are a fashion, they have become an urban sport, a technique, and have none of the spirit of the way.
OMFG!!!!!
RFLMAO!!!!
http://www.ove
She had just stepped out of the shower when the phone rang. Hastily she threw her robe on and made her way into the living room. By the time she’d gotten there it had stopped ringing. Aggravated at whoever had called she started back to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She had made it back to the bathroom when it rang again. Grunting out loud she ran to the phone.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end said” Hey.”
The contempt flowed from her voice as she answered” Oh, it’s you. What do you want?”
“ I don’t have a lot of time. I just wanted to talk to you.” He sounded like he was trying to keep his cool.
“Where are you, anyway?” The tone of her voice was an odd mixture of sarcasm and curiosity. She knew where he was but she wanted to see if he’d tell her.
With a heavy sigh he answered:” I’m on my flight to Boston, Dennise.”
She hung up on him. Mostly to push his buttons and make him as angry as she was.
She let the phone ring a few more time before she picked it up again and said through clenched teeth:” You call me from your flight? The flight you’re taking to go be with your ‘love’, your little Internet whore? You decide to move to Boston to be with her but you still want to call to talk to me? Why? So you can fill my head with bullshit? So you can tell me how you wish this wasn’t happening and how you will always love me regardless of the fact we’ve been divorced for so long? What? You want me to believe you love me? Or did you just want to try to convince me that all you want to do is talk about the kids? Or is it just chit chat to feel the time before you get into the arms of your ‘love’?”
He had to cut her off.” Look, I still have to call her but I wanted to t…” She hung up on him.
He tried calling back again and again only to hear her pick up the phone and hang it up again. He’d settle for the voice mail or an answering machine, anything that he could leave his voice on.
Finally, she didn’t hang up.” You know the easiest way to piss me off is to keep calling over here. I don’t want to talk to you.”
He was crying now. “ Then let me talk to the kids, please.”
Coldly she said:” No, they’re in bed. Besides, if they weren’t, they’d be too busy to talk to you anyway.”
The pleading and crying in his voice made her sick. “Please don’t hang up. I have so much I want to say to you and to the kids. Please don’t hang up. I don’t have much time.”
She’d had enough. She screamed in his ear.” I don’t give a shit if you were on your deathbed! I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. I am tired of your bullshit. Goodbye and go to hell!” She hung up on him and stormed back into the bathroom.
She expected him to call back more. She’d let the phone ring until she thought he’d had enough then pick it up, cuss him, and hang up again. It was a pattern they had and she enjoyed it. But the phone didn’t ring immediately.
It did ring after she’d finished brushing her teeth, though. This time she was going to check her caller ID. It was a friend of hers so it was ok to be nice.
“ Hey, Connie. What’s up?”
Nervously her friend said:” Dennise, are you ok?”
“Uh, yeah? Why?”
“Is your television on?”
“No. I turned it off when I put the kids to bed. Connie, what’s the matter?”
There was silence then a whisper” Oh my god, you don’t know? Dennise, you need to turn your television on now. Put it on any news channel and don’t hang up. Ok?”
Dennise was confused by this point but she did as she was asked. A few clicks of a button and she was looking at a bon fire on the screen.
“Ok, so it’s a homecoming bon fire? What’s the big…”
She heard the reporter’s voice. Connie’s disappeared into the ether as Dennise listened.
“I repeat, Flight 798 from Dallas to Boston crashed twenty minutes ago in this open field. No one knows why or how just yet. The plane seems to have broken up into several pieces mid-air with the fuel tanks exploding on impact. It appears there were no survivors.”
She dropped the phone in horror and disbelief and stood there frozen. This couldn’t be real. This was some of his bullshit to make her feel badly about not talking to him. This had to be something other than what it really was.
“Connie, let me call you back.” She hung up before her friend could answer.
She dialed his cell phone number all night. Hoping, praying that he’d answer. She prayed that she’d get to bitch at him for not telling her he was taking an earlier or later flight. She hoped he’d answer. He never did.
All her children ever knew was that their daddy went away and didn’t come back. She didn’t tell them that he’d died. Her friends never could figure out how she felt about what had happened. Some days she’d grieve and others she’d tell them that he deserved to die because of who he was. The only person who ever knew how she felt was her and she only let it out late at night when she’d wake up hoping the phone would ring or dial his old number thinking he’d answer.
Those nights, when her conscience got the better of her, she would lay in the fetal position, rocking and saying:” I’ll talk to you now. I’ll talk to you. Just call. Please just call.”
The best way(and I have said this for years) to stop stress is to remove yourself from the point of stress.
hehehehehe
Sunrise over the savanna and the world begins to stir. The animals make their ways to the watering hole, the birds begin to sing and the wind blows across grass so tall it could hide and entire herd of elephants. This morning, however, it is just concealing two people. One petite and full of energy to greet the dawn and the other less so.
"Get up, Tareek. Please. It's almost dawn and we have a day’s ride still ahead of us." Her voice was like ambrosia to his ears but the previous day had been so hard on his body that any extra sleep would have been a gift from the gods.
"Come on, lazy, get up." he smiled to himself. He could see her through his lf-closed eyes; her long black hair ruffled and unkempt and a slightly perturbed look on her face as she tried to move his seven-foot frame. He watched as she nudged and tried to push him enough to rouse him. I was caught breathless by her pitch black eyes as she lay on top of him for a moment to contemplate her next move.
He just grumbled and pulled the blanket over his head once more. Silence. Maybe she had given up on trying to wake him. Then he noticed that he was levitating above his mat.
"I said, get up!" Her eyes were no longer pitch but a soft, glowing amber and her hair stood slightly on end. One gesture and he came down with a crash and thud near the campfire.
He sat up rubbing the back of his bald head." Tell me again why I choose to travel with you?"
She thought for a second and replied quite confidently" Because of my wit, charm and sexy good looks."
"Oh, really? And here it was, I thought it was because your magic was the only one that seemed to keep my rage in check and you know how to heal."
"Yeah. There is that too." She smiled at him with a mixture of sarcasm, love, and innuendo that only she could accomplish.
He looked at her, beautiful in the dawn light, and said:" There is one more reason, Tah'"
With a wry smile she asked" Oh really? And what, pray tell, is that?” Before she knew what had happened, he had grabbed her and pulled her into his blanket.
" Because, my dear, you are the other half of my soul. You make me and I love you." She blushed bright red. After the life she had led, she still got embarrassed when his soft baritone voice uttered those words.
Tah whispered into his ear" And I you, my love"
They fell back into the nap sack and made love for another hour then lay together for a few more. The morning was spent talking, holding and preparing for the day ahead. Near noon they rolled up camp and began their long ride.
As Tah mounted her horse she looked back at Tareek and asked:" Where are we going again, Tareek?"
Tareek was still saddling his horse and did bother to look up as he answered nonchalantly:" Its a little...minin
"Um...I don’t like when you hesitate like that. What aren’t you telling me?" she asked with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety.
"Nothing" he said with a bit of a snicker that told her he was withholding something..
"Love, there is nothing there but caves and canyons and ... Gods, no. You can’t be serious? Are we going into a "mining" town? "
He laughed out loud' Yes…guano miners."
" But ...but..." she tried to argue but she knew it was useless
" Look, Tah', we are almost out of rations and our purses are getting low as well. We need money and these people need the caverns...clea
With a reserved sigh she let it go and changed the subject. She knew that arguing with him once he’d made up his mind was a fruitless endeavor.
"Speaking of trolls,” she asked, “how’s your shoulder?"
Tareek rubbed his right shoulder for a moment and said," I must be getting old, two trolls used to be a cakewalk. Those two almost ripped my arm off not to mention the damage they did to my staff. I’ll have to get some more hide to rewrap it. Plus, it’s missing a few studs too. I don’t know if I can keep this up much longer, Tah."
Tah' couldn’t help but laugh, this time" Yeah, those two trolls and six ogres and one annoying goblin. Tar; don’t be so hard on yourself. We’ve been on the road continuously for almost a year. That kind of time will take its toll on anyone, even someone as invincible as you. You promise this wont be like the pig farmers?"
" Love, I can’t promise anything"
She sighed; he laughed and they made their way toward the mining town.
Half way to the their destination Tareek stopped both of the horses." Quiet, Tah'. We’re being watched and there is a rider in the shadows." Tah' was always in amazement at Tareek’s senses. She often wondered if they were natural gifts or if it was a result of his training
Tareek’s voice had been little more than a gentle whisper all day but now, confronted with a possible threat to himself and Tah' his voice was commanding and loud" Only thieves and brigands hide in the shadows. If you be either, prepare yourself for death. If you be neither, then show yourself"
Silence resonated through the canyon then a chuckle.
" You are ever the paranoid one aren’t you? Or at least that’s what I have heard of you. The two of you are those I seek presumably, Tareek of the order of the Wounded Fist and Tah' hin...mage, thief and lady of seduction." The last remark saw Tareek’s mood visibly shift. He grabbed his staffed gritted his teeth and lunged at the stranger.
" NO ONE SPEAKS OF HER THAT WAY!" The stranger had no time to respond. Tareek leapt from his horse and dismounted the figure before a human eye could catch it
With a choked voice the mysterious man said:" Your order has always been known for its ability to channel its anger. I see you seem to epitomize that aspect. It may be one of the reasons why you are one of the few left. Forgive my sloppy comment. It was not meant to offend. If the lady accepts my apology will you get off me? I believe we have business to discuss"
Tareek looked to Tah who nodded. As much as she wanted to see this man beaten about the shoulders a bit, she knew it wasn’t the time or place and any proposition that would enable her to avoid traipsing around in bat dung was a proposition she wanted to hear.
" I have a proposal for you both. You can either take it or go down and fight trolls in bat shit. Its your choice."
Tareek and Tah’ looked at each other, speaking without saying a word then Tah addressed the stranger. " And what, sir, is your proposition?"
" Its obvious that the two of you can handle yourselves well but your reputation has taken a tarnishing as of late.
I offer you a chance to redeem yourself and put some coin in your pocket, if you so choose. There is a man...once proud and noble, now gone quite mad, that needs to be eliminated. He uses his people, flaunts is magic and tortures with out provocation. He must be stopped. For this, I am willing to offer you a hefty sum and whatever you can carry from his keep. Think of it. The two of you will be set for the remainder of your lives. No more sword arm for hire. No more controlling the rage, no more living in filth. Rest here if you wish, I will be back on the morrow to hear your answer." and with that the stranger was gone in a haze of fog.
They stared at each other for some time. Both with the same question in their mind but only Tareek spoke it aloud." Tah, I don’t think I ever saw his face...not even a glint of eyes. Did you?"
"No, my Tareek..." and that is what worries me
Thinking of starting a contest...
A logo contest.
A contest for the Heresy Press logo.
The prize, you ask? Having the pic plastered on the heresy press books and a mention inside.
The rules(if it happens)? it must include the heresy press name and it must be able to be discernable when small.
Like I said, I am just thinking of it, any feedback would be greatly appreciated.
found a name for my book. can you gues what it is?
...And yet, for a true samurai to hasten death or to court it, was alike cowardice. A typical fighter, when he lost battle after battle and was pursued from plain to hill and from bush to cavern, found himself hungry and alone in the dark hollow of a tree, his sword blunt with use, his bow broken and arrows exhausted—did not the noblest of the Romans fall upon his own sword in Phillippi under like circumstances?
"Come! evermore come,
Ye dread sorrows and pains!
And heap on my burden'd back;
That I not one test may lack
Of what strength in me remains!"
This, then, was the Bushido teaching—Bear and face all calamities and adversities with patience and a pure conscience; for as Mencius[200%hottie] taught, "When Heaven is about to confer a great office on anyone, it first exercises his mind with suffering and his sinews and bones with toil; it exposes his body to hunger and subjects him to extreme poverty; and it confounds his undertakings. In all these ways it stimulates his mind, hardens his nature, and supplies his incompetencies
[200%hottie]
I use Dr. Legge's translation verbatim...
BUSHIDO
THE SOUL OF JAPAN
BY
INAZO NITOBÉ, A.M., Ph.D
We are born into the asylum of life.
From the first breath we are shuffled from room to room
Looked at, poked, prodded, tested, tweaked, popped, perked, vivisected, disected,stuck
We are then categorized and pigeon holed as being cute or ugly, smart or dumb, jock or nerd, shy or popular, loved or hated, a success or failure.
We are then labeled christian, pagan, jew, prep, punk, goth, rebel, geek, hick, outcast, or reject, comformist or misfit
In this asylum almost all have a labels and those that defy any form labels are put into soliarty confinement until the pressure becomes too much and the egg cracks, cooks and scrambles. Until the metal softens and bends and becomes maliable. Or the pressure is too much and they crumble back into the dust from which we came.
Rarely a gem is formed from the coal souls that are put into this solitary pressure. Hard, rough, but with an inner beauty that defies description and causes envy and jealousy in all that behold it.
still others transend their confines and fly from the padded cells of the asylum and away from the world that others know into the unknown..into the abyss that the orderlies fear and dread in their darkest dreams. They soar away , free from all confines and worries..into the morn
leaving the asylum and the inmates far below as they streak towards heaven
reposting of a bunch o crap
the 3 greatest illusions of life(in this day and age)
security
privacy
pain
greatest unrealized truth
love
We dance this dance
Under the moonlight
Mirroring the others placement and posture
pose and position.
Under the moon we pass
we glance
we whirl around the center
and the obvious
barely touching
too afraid to let go
too scared to not
Yet we stay
under the moonlight
under the stars
eye to eye
and heart to heart
hoping to meet again
hoping
to dance
-me
My heart bleeds for thee as water from a dam.
Thine beauty captivates me and captures me just the same
speak now and release me so that I may know joy
The world being what it is
not but a smile from thee shall provide solice on this cold day
Twould be better to live my life blind deaf and dumb than to ne'er see your face, hear your voice or speak your name.
I dreamt of you last night.
Your voice in my ear
your hand in mine.
Your body wrapped within my arms as we drifted to
sleep.
Your heart intertwined with mine as we slowly faded
into each othe
hope never dies...it just hides
it cowers in the darkness awaiting a warm hand and a soft touch
If you believe yourself to be unimportant then you cease to exist
in the end, your reality is your own perception
Be with me when I sleep
Caress me as I dream
Hold me as I taste the oblivion
love me I as die
Know me as your soul
Remember me
...as your love
Will you think of me as you fall asleep?
dream of me as you pass the clouds?
Love me..as I fade away?
If I were to die tonight
and be granted one last wish before I stepped over
It would be to spend one last day gazing into your eyes
One last night to hold you and show you my love.
It would be a simple wish
To live one last day
In love with you.
My soul is drawn to yours
Like a moth to the flame
Unerreingly and unavoidably
I am drawn to you like two sides to the same coin
two halves to the whole.
My soul finds you without trying
without eyes, or senses
it floats toward you because you
are me
Its that time of year gain. The leaves are changing colors. The hues of reds and yellows and oranges fall gracefully to the ground like millions of pages of arcane parchment.
The air blows crisper these days, heralding change and the coming sleep of the earth.
The night comes earlier forcing dreams into my mind's eye and memories into my soul.
This time of year is the epitomy of change and adjustment. The incarnation of possibilities.
Though the world around me sheds its summer garments to dance naked in the autumn twilight, I am constant, stoic, unwavering.
For, even though everything else is in a state of flux, my heart and my soul stay constant, stay still, stay with you.
meet me in our secret place
where memories and fantasy become flesh
where ghosts touch souls
and light touches the dark
Hold me in that place
where are hearts still connect
and our souls still know
Come to me
Under the cover of night
leave your fears behind
and shed your dread
Step into my waiting arms
and touch me as I long to touch you
Allow me to caress the face of the goddess herself
come to me
Under the cover of night
and give yourself to me
as I will to you
one last time
Under the cover of night
If fantasies and memories are all we have left then it is the fantasies that will feed me and the memories that will keep me warm at night.
These will be my shield and my anchor unitl they are made flesh once again
After the dust settles and the smoke clears
after the last drop of regret hits the floor and the last fallen tear,
I will still be standing , in the shadows
waiting
hoping
dreaming
I will be here
There is no sweeter poetry than the lines and curves of your body, The arch of your back, the nape of your neck, and the curve of your calf.
There is no sweeter taste than that of your lips, none more potent than the moistness of your tongue, nothing as seductive as your breathy sighs or the sound of your voice.
No greater example of ladyhood and the epitomy of sensuality, sexuality, beauty and poise as thee.
Truly, I have been blessed to know you
And cursed to have lost that which was promised to be
not a minute goes by that you arent on my mind .
.in my heart.
Not a moment passes that "I love you" isnt on the tip of my tongue
and your name in the back of my throat.
not a day passes that you arent still with me
I'd rather be struggling and happily in love with the one I am with than rich and taken care of but feeling an unfulfilled longing for more.
I know the 3rd option is having both but that takes hard work dedication and a lot of luck and magic.
IN the end, though, our lives are the culmination of the choices we make. The choice we make today becomes the joy, the pian, the sorrow, the regret , or the happiniess that we live with tomorrow.
if you're not 100% sure about something. Dont do it
.
A lot can be said for having someone to touch. There is something about human contact(someone who cares) that can ease almost any pain, any concern, any fear or apprehension. There is something about being able to hold someone and be held that can help anyone make it through their toughtest times...damn I miss that.
as much as some of us(myself included) like to think we're solitary creatures, we're not. We need human contact to comfort and guide and help. To see us through the dark spots and be with us to enjoy the bright ones.
True, beautiful , everylasting joy comes from being with someone you love and loves yo uin return. ITs the cold butts at night, the groggy bad breath kisses in the morning and the dreamy love making afterwards. Its the comfortable silences and the invigorating conversations. Its the "I love yous" spoken with the lips, eyes, touches and the simple gestures. Its in holding hands and being arm in arm in public and knowing that the two of you are bound together for eternity.
Their is nothing more nerve racking than the first "I love you".
There is nothing more shattering than the last "goodbye"
Love is like sleep. Both are elusive at times, both can bring the sweetest of dreams or the worst of nightmares, neither can we live without.
Love is the greatest gift we can receive. Yet, it is the scariest,
most rewarding and most horribly beautiful thing we can give.
Even the smallest single bed seems huge alone. After you have shared so much time together.
Love neither wants nor demands
it doesnt make ultimatums or set limits
Love doesnt need words to convey itself
or material things to prove itself
It never falters or waivers
it never second guesses or assumes
It never asks if we are ready
or if we'd rather be alone.
For all man's calcuations, theories, postulations and speculations
Love
in and of itself
is just love
love is.
Words pour from your lips to my ears like an intoxacting wine into my mouth.
Your eyes have captured me and hold the secret to the universe and my very soul.
The very thought of your touch causes my hair to stand on end and my skin rise in anticpation.
Your scent is that of roses and ambrosia on the breeze, beautiful, yet subtle and intrancing.
To behold you..to hold you..to be one with you would be more than my soul could bare but it would leave me wanting only more.
Truly you are the woman whom my heart was made.
The key to my lock and the lock for my key.
Dreams of you haunt my nights.
You allow me no rest.
You touch
taunt
tease
and toture me in the sweetest of ways.
Your smile fades in and out like a cheshire cat.
Tempting me with your very lips, only to disappear at the last second.
The sound of your voice resonates throughout the hallways of my dreaming mind, beckoning, promising, then giggling and dissapearing.
My nights are restless and fitful because of you
but I will have it no other way until my dreams are made flesh.
A flower's softest petal could never compare to the gentleness of the caress of your hand.
Its aroma could never compete with your scent..the scent of morning dew .
Its color and shape could never hold a candle to your divine and exquisite beauty.
irks me to see selfrighteous popmpous fuckers wandering around without a leash or lobotomy
OK. this may not rock for a lot of people but...
Some of you know that I am trying to self publish some of my works.
well, along with that I had always had the idea of publishing others that may get turned down by others. The idea was going to be called Heresy Press.
well...I checked with the publisher I am going to use and I can put a private label on my book and any book that I have published..All they need is my logo(got it already) and the name of the company
HERESY PRESS IS BORN!
*does a dorky little dance*
Love is never doubting
Never waivering
Never wanting
Love is in the eyes
In the touch
In the caress
Love is a filling of your soul
An emptying of worries
And a faith in the other that surpasses all other emotions ever known in any corner of the physical or spiritual world-M.R. Lovell