I am not so active on devART. If you wish to stalk my brain, myspazz is the place to do it.
Plus I was getting sick of reading the last journal entry here.
... and stuff.


DoaCEiS Details of a Catastrophic Event in SpaceDoaCEiS
Log Summary
[17831AD, 12th Nadnir, 09:30:42; Ursa Major Time] Vessel launched from orbital docking bay Discoverer above Earth, 55.617° N, 37.533° E. All vessel safety checks passed.
[18th Nadnir, 15:30:00 approx.; UMaT] International travel line, Devil's Spaceway, reached. Vessel trajectory recalculated; global positioning system recalibrated; space-time flux inhibitor activated. Vessel acceleration initiated at maximum capa


The meaningless ramblings...... of H. G. WorthingtonThe meaningless ramblings...
There was a vole. A nice vole. Actually no, a cunt vole. He stole other voles' vole food and swiped at them angrily with his little vole claws. The vole lived in a hole, a small hole, or a big hole, with a sparrow named Noel. Fuck knows why Noel lived in a hole, maybe he never learned to fly, or he just hated the other sparrows and stayed away from them. Noel was probably an arsehole too. The vole and Noel rested in their hole, one never saying a word to the other, only venturing out late at night to start fights on the other woodland creatures. Or to stuff leaves down the exhaust vents of tractors, causi


The pretentious ramblings...... of H. G. WorthingtonThe pretentious ramblings...
A swan, mechanical, set with sapphires, floats in a pool of liquid; not water; oily, luminescent, golden.
Pale plantlike hues surrounding, ochres and pale blues and greens, though nothing chlorophyllian.
A girl sits, dips her toes.
The swan bobbing, preens itself, whirs.
Whirls, eddies.
It is warm here, no noise save the gentle clinking of the mechanics and the lapping at the edges.
There is a breeze, hotter still.
The sun fills the sky, sharply illuminates, throwing unfeasably black shadows.
With a tho


The randomist ramblings...... of H. G. WorthingtonThe randomist ramblings...
This deep bright sphere envelops your disease. While the creatures dance for your release. A distorted reflection into the void bleeds. Diagrams drawn for all your needs.
The alarms all sounded at once, but we were gone by the time they arrived, sitting under the railway bridge, crystal meth and shooters fucking everywhere. I only found it later, bundled up in my pocket... must have grabbed it in the heat of the moment. Small, round, smooth and hard, a colour that can't be described, just a bit smaller than a golf ball.
I forgot about it again anyway, went up an
--
Love is my heart, but art is my soul. ~~Mawile the Dragon
Echo: But your "art" is killing.
Mawile: Well, duh! what, did you think I meant drawing and crap!?
Echo: >.<
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