I sit & wonder of every love that could have been, if only I'd thought of something charming to say.
Hello friends. Fun fact, my subject line is filled. No more characters possible. Anyway, soon you will have comic. With the drawing phase almost done, all that needs be done is to scrape up enough for publishing fees. The website we have somehow neglected, yet dinna worry, it will be updated soon, too.
On a more Coda note (haha, note. s'funny.), several songs have been, eh, well sort of recorded. Work on the first EP is underway, though it will probably be an instrumental. Lacking real money, all we can do is record straight one track songs or a live version, which I suppose isn't entirely out of the question. I've given you the tracklist, though I somehow forgot one of my own personal favouries, My Girl, which was my first song. Its so nostalgiac, :::sniff:::.
Another Cup of Joe
The air in here is always so warm. Sometimes I hate it. I have to be here, though, or dad will get upset. The poor bastard, I love him but he's so clueless. I don't even like the stuff. Any minute now, CC will open and I'll have to get out of this nice comfortable chair. It's not like they can't figure out how to make it themselves. And honestly, a copymachine runs itself, the bleeding fucks. Always always always asking me for assistance. I guess that's what they pay me for.
Then the bell rings, the students enter, the class begins. I'm a fucking riot. Maybe Flem will stop in again today, he usually does. Now there is an odd one. Of all the people who subject themself to this place every day, I don't think any of them really want the coffee. It's like it's programmed into them, somehow. But Flem, he really has a genuine interest. He really does like it black, and he's never turned down any of my suggestions; he'll drink anything I mix.
I liked my old job much better, at the Kasbaa. I don't care how unsafe anyone tells me it is to be a female bartender in that neighborhood, I loved my job. I wonder if Mickey needs any one these days? Oh shit, what's that? I hear an alarm, but that doesn't really sound like a fire alarm. Who is that, running to the elevator? He definitely doesn't work here, I can tell by his shirt. Those guys are way too strict to allow those colours. He actually looks really hot, with his hair slicked back like that, and his pants so tight. Wait, oh my god! He's got a huge fucking scar right under his eye. Where the shit is he going anyway?
"Kat! Hello, there?"
Oh, that's right, I work here. Oh, at least it's Flem.
"Hey Flem. How's the coal mine?" He just kind of stares at me for a second, and his left eye narrows.
"I, um, do not know of one." Now Flem's a fucking riot. I love this act he always puts on, it's so cute. "May I have more of this?" He holds out his coffee vat, which has got to be one of the more ridiculous things my father came up with. I only know one other person who's ever bought one, and I'd rather not talk about those days. I, of course, smile and take his caffeine caraffe, which I think he probably sleeps with. I really admire that he loves this so much and isn't afraid to do it out loud.
"What I meant was, how is the office life? How are you feeling, and such?", and at this he gets the most enlightened look in his eyes, his cute little blue eyes, as if he's happy he understands what's going on. It really is the highlight of my day, I'm upset he only gets one break, becuase I'm certain he'd be down here every chance he got.
"I feel goodly, now. I have been out of coffee for a while, and now I feel better. And filing is greatly easy, I see. My brother hasn't quite got it yet, though. I have no worry, he will, for he is secretly sharp." That's a good one. His brother, bless his little harmless soul, is fairly clueless. I'd love to see him tracking a TPS report more than a couple feet away from his desk. I wonder how he got that job, sometimes. Flems a smart one, though, I can tell. His english isn't great, but that makes him all the cuter, I think. "Thank you a lot, Kat. I appreciate your generosity." Then he kinda of like bowed a little.
I wonder who that guy was, and what he was doing here. How come no one else heard that alarm? Maybe I'm seeing things. Maybe I'm doing it again. I better not think about it.
"Bye Flem. Same time tomorrow?" I really do like him.
"Yes, I suppose so. Goodbye then." And he walks away. I wish I could talk to him for real, but I hate talking to people so much, I've forgotten how, and now that I really want to, I can't.
I really hope I'm not going crazy. Again.
One flat foot on the devils wing
Shit. He really has got to stop coming here, I know that the boss can tell every time. I hear the alarm, almost, and I know what it's for. He told me, becuase he helped build the first one, though it was kind of different. The H.A.L.O. sees the holy, of which I am not one. His alarm, E.P.I.C, would scream bloody murder if I walked into his office, and imagine how well . . . He, would react. I just can't tell him no, though. It's weird, I have never felt this before.
I am incredibly lucky to have been the one assigned to this very threat. I can't begin to imagine what would happen if someone else was on it. Like Amanda. Etius wouldn't have a chance against a two-class. Though, the only reason I am trusted with this job . . . is founded on the very corruption of my soul. I hate thinking of what I've done, I wonder who made up the fucking rules.
"Clive, report to Internal Filing. That is all." My walkie talkie hoarsely echoes into the vast staircase. Good for me, the shape of this staircase makes it very hard to see around. I better get back to work, before I get fired. Or worse.
I could be sleeping in the flowers
i cannot begin to wonder, i know not anything of what and why for this place. Partook, he seems not to care, but is he a secret? i think he knows some things. Why am i here now?
"So I'm in the room with the girl, right? And she's all 'Joe, I'm a little dunk.' and I'm all like 'It's okay, baby, come on'-" Joe is cut off by Alice.
"Shut up, man. That's pretty fucking sick." i thank her for saving me from this story, but i could never tell him that. Huh? i see somone in the doorway.
"Flemchac, Partook, come with me." The girl asks. She has a look of her, like everyone else here, but still like difference. She has a scar under her eye, and i try to wonder about it and i can't. We follow her to the downstairs, and she takes us across the street. Into Amalgamated Press. "I can't go any further, but here, " she tells me, handing me a parcel, "take this to the -49th floor. Replace the one that's already there. And don't let anyone see you." i am afraid, this happened before, and then, it happened badly. i don't really want to do this. i could be sleeping in the flowers, i could be on a coffee break.
i miss the calm before the storm.
Look back when you want, more may come.
Nice DreamS, Dylan
On a more Coda note (haha, note. s'funny.), several songs have been, eh, well sort of recorded. Work on the first EP is underway, though it will probably be an instrumental. Lacking real money, all we can do is record straight one track songs or a live version, which I suppose isn't entirely out of the question. I've given you the tracklist, though I somehow forgot one of my own personal favouries, My Girl, which was my first song. Its so nostalgiac, :::sniff:::.
Another Cup of Joe
The air in here is always so warm. Sometimes I hate it. I have to be here, though, or dad will get upset. The poor bastard, I love him but he's so clueless. I don't even like the stuff. Any minute now, CC will open and I'll have to get out of this nice comfortable chair. It's not like they can't figure out how to make it themselves. And honestly, a copymachine runs itself, the bleeding fucks. Always always always asking me for assistance. I guess that's what they pay me for.
Then the bell rings, the students enter, the class begins. I'm a fucking riot. Maybe Flem will stop in again today, he usually does. Now there is an odd one. Of all the people who subject themself to this place every day, I don't think any of them really want the coffee. It's like it's programmed into them, somehow. But Flem, he really has a genuine interest. He really does like it black, and he's never turned down any of my suggestions; he'll drink anything I mix.
I liked my old job much better, at the Kasbaa. I don't care how unsafe anyone tells me it is to be a female bartender in that neighborhood, I loved my job. I wonder if Mickey needs any one these days? Oh shit, what's that? I hear an alarm, but that doesn't really sound like a fire alarm. Who is that, running to the elevator? He definitely doesn't work here, I can tell by his shirt. Those guys are way too strict to allow those colours. He actually looks really hot, with his hair slicked back like that, and his pants so tight. Wait, oh my god! He's got a huge fucking scar right under his eye. Where the shit is he going anyway?
"Kat! Hello, there?"
Oh, that's right, I work here. Oh, at least it's Flem.
"Hey Flem. How's the coal mine?" He just kind of stares at me for a second, and his left eye narrows.
"I, um, do not know of one." Now Flem's a fucking riot. I love this act he always puts on, it's so cute. "May I have more of this?" He holds out his coffee vat, which has got to be one of the more ridiculous things my father came up with. I only know one other person who's ever bought one, and I'd rather not talk about those days. I, of course, smile and take his caffeine caraffe, which I think he probably sleeps with. I really admire that he loves this so much and isn't afraid to do it out loud.
"What I meant was, how is the office life? How are you feeling, and such?", and at this he gets the most enlightened look in his eyes, his cute little blue eyes, as if he's happy he understands what's going on. It really is the highlight of my day, I'm upset he only gets one break, becuase I'm certain he'd be down here every chance he got.
"I feel goodly, now. I have been out of coffee for a while, and now I feel better. And filing is greatly easy, I see. My brother hasn't quite got it yet, though. I have no worry, he will, for he is secretly sharp." That's a good one. His brother, bless his little harmless soul, is fairly clueless. I'd love to see him tracking a TPS report more than a couple feet away from his desk. I wonder how he got that job, sometimes. Flems a smart one, though, I can tell. His english isn't great, but that makes him all the cuter, I think. "Thank you a lot, Kat. I appreciate your generosity." Then he kinda of like bowed a little.
I wonder who that guy was, and what he was doing here. How come no one else heard that alarm? Maybe I'm seeing things. Maybe I'm doing it again. I better not think about it.
"Bye Flem. Same time tomorrow?" I really do like him.
"Yes, I suppose so. Goodbye then." And he walks away. I wish I could talk to him for real, but I hate talking to people so much, I've forgotten how, and now that I really want to, I can't.
I really hope I'm not going crazy. Again.
One flat foot on the devils wing
Shit. He really has got to stop coming here, I know that the boss can tell every time. I hear the alarm, almost, and I know what it's for. He told me, becuase he helped build the first one, though it was kind of different. The H.A.L.O. sees the holy, of which I am not one. His alarm, E.P.I.C, would scream bloody murder if I walked into his office, and imagine how well . . . He, would react. I just can't tell him no, though. It's weird, I have never felt this before.
I am incredibly lucky to have been the one assigned to this very threat. I can't begin to imagine what would happen if someone else was on it. Like Amanda. Etius wouldn't have a chance against a two-class. Though, the only reason I am trusted with this job . . . is founded on the very corruption of my soul. I hate thinking of what I've done, I wonder who made up the fucking rules.
"Clive, report to Internal Filing. That is all." My walkie talkie hoarsely echoes into the vast staircase. Good for me, the shape of this staircase makes it very hard to see around. I better get back to work, before I get fired. Or worse.
I could be sleeping in the flowers
i cannot begin to wonder, i know not anything of what and why for this place. Partook, he seems not to care, but is he a secret? i think he knows some things. Why am i here now?
"So I'm in the room with the girl, right? And she's all 'Joe, I'm a little dunk.' and I'm all like 'It's okay, baby, come on'-" Joe is cut off by Alice.
"Shut up, man. That's pretty fucking sick." i thank her for saving me from this story, but i could never tell him that. Huh? i see somone in the doorway.
"Flemchac, Partook, come with me." The girl asks. She has a look of her, like everyone else here, but still like difference. She has a scar under her eye, and i try to wonder about it and i can't. We follow her to the downstairs, and she takes us across the street. Into Amalgamated Press. "I can't go any further, but here, " she tells me, handing me a parcel, "take this to the -49th floor. Replace the one that's already there. And don't let anyone see you." i am afraid, this happened before, and then, it happened badly. i don't really want to do this. i could be sleeping in the flowers, i could be on a coffee break.
i miss the calm before the storm.
Look back when you want, more may come.
Nice DreamS, Dylan