yada

yada

ok the rat's back!

i'm only going to post stuff i didn't time on to post, as in, i'll post verses or stories, but nothing beyond the limits of unintentional blogging.

no matter how much i hate sci fi, i'm always writing it even tho i hate to read it myself. sci fi is lazy writing! people excuse weirdness as imagination- it's not, it is a blank thrust at substance- it's lazy ignorance, someone who is capable of creating a good work but is just a dump at the research dep. Well, i'm not talking for all sci fi- but consider pop fiction today, it's sickly rushed, jumping to the "best" bites of reading without building reader anticipation, except that which already exists due to (dadada:) the title! (which sounds like "Blood! Gore!", or "Twisted Minds Reaper Eat", which doesn't even make grammatical sense, it's just some words that entices the bored AND lazy AND casaul, as in us, the average, overindulged american.

ok you can see that i'm wasting my time + plus that i'm a flaming political, out of the mainstream, extreme conservative, wild eyed, absolutist. (who's so sensible she has lost all capability of truced emotion, which is like, the most important thing of all!)

ok i watched pride and prejudice today. Too emotional and made-for-intentionally inflamed-America kind of style at just a few places. Otherwise, five stars for great acting, awesome lizzy, handsome rich dude, nice too-good-too-be-true material, a romantic film that i loved. i think the guys might appreciate this bc of the length of the film, as opposed to the six hour AE version (still the best, however)

well there i rant.

all's well ends well.

here's a little "sci fi" when i was trying so very hard to murder writer's block in it's bed:

Dusk settled into the blood red sky. The riders gathered around Madkin, the leader of the group. They gathered on the clifftops, Below the vultures finished the remains of the Kujan fighters. It had been a day of death.

“We must ride before sunset, Madkin,” said Punjabi Emcie, the leader’s close sidekick. He was an old man, dusted all over with brown leather skin. The villagers told Madkin that Punjabi was at least seventy. Madkin turned and smiled broadly at his men. “I gave my teeth away for money for the dentist.” The men laughed. “And now they think we will kill our men to win. Those idiots.”

Akonis was no man’s land. It was a home to three tribes. The Laskins lived in the East, the Kujanis in the Fadis Valley, and the people of Rafe, Madkin’s kind, dwelt in the sand brush of the West. The southern part of the desert was overrun by beasts. The beasts were evil little. If a man walked there he would be killed on the spot. All had a unique pact against Restapo the Emperor and against the wild coyote of Akonis. To the men, they represented a reason to live, a reason to fight for the sake of existence. A misstep in either the books or the paths of the desert meant quick silent death. Bones would be on high display either way. The bones of past men were more numerous than those still living off the land. Madkin’s grandmother told him the legend of the Desert. An angry and desolute emperor, named Alex Kabul, centuries past, had in a rage ordered the destruction of three nations. All the peoples of these nations were killed and left to rot on the fields they were slaughtered on. Three years later, Emperor Kabul ordered the bones to be ground to dust. That dust was dumped on Lunera, a dry and barren planet. That was the source of the sand. It was very fine, and there was always a faint scent of dried meat in the air. That was how Akonis grew. It flourished on death. The three tribes, were said to have evolved from the spirits of the ancestors in the dust. Whatever the similar fates, the tribes were far from united. The desert bred a sense of solitude and self reliance. The three tribes grew more inward and separate as time progressed.

The emperors had always made it hard on the people of Akonis. Taxes were burdensome and relentless. In order to avoid confusion, the council of Mataku allowed citizens to plead tax exempt. This was supposed to help the poorer citizens of the empire. However, for the men of Akonis, it was a matter of embarrassment. To even enter the Capital each year, they had to undergo “appearance treatment” every single time they needed recovery. In the long run, they barely saved any mullah, because the travel expenses almost amounted to tax they were trying so hard to avoid.

Madkin was the leader of the Rafe. He was young, strong, and violent. Madkin believed that Akonis could one day be united as a stronger power that could escape the timeless traditions of tax filing. His designs were good, but his methods were poor. With the help of petra leaves, he used the addictive soothing balm as a method to convince the young men of his clan to join his bloodbath. They roamed the countryside looking for anyone who would dare to deny their ideals and conforms. Slowly by slowly the other tribes were adding to the dust. Soon the emperor’s unthought plan would be complete, all under his unknown forces of exertion. Noone could have planned such a perfect picture of history that functioned as smoothly as this might. Kabul will finally be avenged.