Aladdin-Sane's avatar
is terribly confused.
157 Watchers44.5K Page Views2 Deviations
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Simon Finds A Mysterious Tent
Simon had been stranded in the moors for eighteen hours when he spotted the tent. It stood like a house-shaped bon bon amid the dead trees and bracken - a fluorescent pink poof at its peak knocking in the breeze. 'Oh thank God' - said Simon. Not 48 hours prior Simon's blonde locks had shimmered in the sunlight as though he were the poster child for a shampoo commercial. His blue jeans had been creased and his sneakers all but blindingly white. He had embarked on an afternoon stroll in the fields at the back of his office - hoped to get a breath of fresh air before getting stuck into another set of spreadsheets. Now though matted hair plast
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Raskolnikov's Letter
Letter from Rodion Raskolnikov to Sonya Marmeladova 13th January, 1867 Siberia Dearest Sonya, There resides through the window of my prison cell a mud track, often taken by the peasants. They traverse by this route, in their horses and carts, the distance separating their landowner's estate from their farms. I'm not certain what it is they freight back and forth - their barrows are covered by those coarse blankets such people favour – and it's not something with which I'm concerned. What is of greater interest to me than the peasants themselves is the highway by which they travel. It is the product not of new technologies
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Simon Finds A Mysterious Tent
Simon had been stranded in the moors for eighteen hours when he spotted the tent. It stood like a house-shaped bon bon amid the dead trees and bracken - a fluorescent pink poof at its peak knocking in the breeze. 'Oh thank God' - said Simon. Not 48 hours prior Simon's blonde locks had shimmered in the sunlight as though he were the poster child for a shampoo commercial. His blue jeans had been creased and his sneakers all but blindingly white. He had embarked on an afternoon stroll in the fields at the back of his office - hoped to get a breath of fresh air before getting stuck into another set of spreadsheets. Now though matted hair plast
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Raskolnikov's Letter
Letter from Rodion Raskolnikov to Sonya Marmeladova 13th January, 1867 Siberia Dearest Sonya, There resides through the window of my prison cell a mud track, often taken by the peasants. They traverse by this route, in their horses and carts, the distance separating their landowner's estate from their farms. I'm not certain what it is they freight back and forth - their barrows are covered by those coarse blankets such people favour – and it's not something with which I'm concerned. What is of greater interest to me than the peasants themselves is the highway by which they travel. It is the product not of new technologies
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Rooibos
If under mulch she sang a rotten    wood-like note with quiver Nostalgic for her days alive    Surely they could forgive her Most days it's quiet (these days it's cold)  Her bones observe the soil But Spring is pulsing warm and gold  Teasing memories to boil Like heated milk the liquid smell    of evening drips in branches A honeybee who suffocates    falls near her musing ashes "Is it wine or light strawberry?"  She asks him of the sky Though his dead ears don't hear her query  The answer is "Like dye" Just under mulch I hear a rotten    wood-like note with quiver Flushing young in days alive    Of course I can f
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Little Hero - Story
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Angels and Demons
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The fruit Basket
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November 30, 1899
United Kingdom
Deviant for 15 years
Badges
Llama: Llamas are awesome! (7)
The universe mocks me
So I've been filling out an online dating profile the last hour. The first person it recommends is - pure coincidence - my closest online friend. Ohh dear.
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127 Hours
This is the closest to actual writing I've submitted to dA in a long time. -- Seeing a Danny Boyle movie is like seeing someone bust a gut telling an anecdote. It's like a colleague relating something that happened to them at the weekend, but hiring an orchestra to accompany them. It's like Christ! That was incredible! But then the euphoria fades, and you can't help feeling they've spent too much effort turning a three minute pop song into a symphony. Take Boyle's latest film 127 Hours. It's about a rock climber who wedges his arm between a boulder and a cliff face, and spends five days trying to free himself. Boyle uses every conceiva
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Baloo
I think looking back to when I was younger I had certain expectations of the older me. I simply assumed I would wake up and find myself competent in certain things, though I'd made no effort to become good in them, nor had any inclination to them. Like people. I'm not good with people. This isn't so surprising: spend most every night on the internet for ten years, and what do you think's going to happen? You're going to be a social butterfly once you hit a certain age? I don't mean that I ever expected to wake up and find myself a different person. It's rather than I saw certain ages as milestones by which I'd have achieved certain things. Li
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Rushy's avatar
Have your cake and eat it too Happy Birthday! Party
Rushy's avatar
Have your cake and eat it too Happy Birthday! Party
Rushy's avatar
Have your cake and eat it too Happy Birthday! Party
aWay-with-knives's avatar
aWay-with-knivesStudent General Artist
teach women to stop throwing babies in dumpsters!!
dead-now's avatar
dead-nowHobbyist Writer
Sorry about Major Tom, dude.
Rushy's avatar
:cake: Happy Birthday! :party:
dead-now's avatar
dead-nowHobbyist Writer
Hey, this thing is telling me that it's your birthday. Cheers to you!