arachibutyrophobic's avatar
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24
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The Dream who Stopped By
This morning I caught a dream in the little web I leave hanging on my bedpost. #$%@! What do you think you’re doing?! Whoa. I stepped back. The dream threw a handful of porcupine needles at me. Let me go! The frayed threads of my web were thrumming with an otherworldly sound. It assaulted me with magnetic disco cubes, and a plague of flying piranhas, – I covered my head – ten thousand screeching toenails on a chalkboard, and a gale force vacuum cleaner. I backed towards the door in fear. The dream was swearing without restraint, threatening me with an iron wok and seventeen sharpened HB pencils, singeing my eyebrows, and, in es
Ruthenium 101
52
6
T
The Winning Loser
London of the fifteenth century. Cobblestone alleyways, flickering oil streetlamps, elongated shadows. A tentacled fog, spreading ink, running like wine through the streets. Yet in the midst of this enigma, the great Renaissance was spreading. In a shuttered little barber shop, two surgeons were bickering over the bald head of the customer. Said the skinny one: “But I’m sure it’s ginger you’re supposed to mix in! I just read a new pamphlet about how it stimu– ” “You lie. It’s clover and cinnamon. Parkins is a doctor and he said so himself. Clover makes the hair grow and ginger makes the hair turn whi
A
A Well-Practiced Gesture
"… and they lived happily ever after." He gently put the book down and kissed her forehead, brushed aside her glazed golden locks; he tip-toed outside, and was about to close the door when – "Daddy, that doesn't make any sense. Why would the miller want to lie to the king? And I thought that the ground is hard. How can you stick your foot in and get ripped in two? The story's all wrong. I thought he was the good guy. How come he doesn't get to live happily ever after?" The man scratched his head sheepishly, looking like a pickpocket caught red-handed. A stream of flour cascaded from his straw-like hair. "… who?" "Rumpled-stilts-tin. How c
F
For the Love of Swimming
A highlight of any gymnasium tour is the swimming pool, a formidable area that attracts all types of creatures: students, seniors, health inspectors, coaches and a multitude unicellular organisms. The pool at Jericho community centre can be reached via two separate change rooms, which are afflicted by shower-head leaks, rusting, and fuzzy black growths beneath the mats. The entrance to the pool itself can be blocked by an ominous portcullis-style gate, but the aroma of sweat mingling with chlorine has crept into the room anyway, unmindful the safety and sanitary precautions plastered to the grating. Past the padlocked fence, the cement floor
I
If You Mess With Us
The girl tugged hesitantly at his frayed robe, wondering what mysteries laid behind those wrinkles.  The monk, quivering with the effort, turned around and smiled toothlessly.  "What is it that you desire, young one?" His voice was cracked and yellowed. "I want to know what karma is." It was a beat-up old Ford that the man drove, one of those dumps that had nothing working right: the steering wheel was clammy,  styrofoam was sticking out of the seats, the tank was leaky,  and the radio was busted.  Never mind the radio.  His little brother, the musician freak, was strumming a guitar, chanting "if you mess with us … lalala … if you mess with
W
Wolves in Wonderland
A child, who does not know by heart such tales as Cinderella and The Boy who Cried Wolf, seems to have missed something in childhood. But after we grow too old for "make-believe", do we stop to consider the differences between these stories – their origins, their roles in our lives, their darker sides? Take Alice in Wonderland and Little Red Riding Hood, for example. Both Alice and Red, the protagonists of the stories, are innocent girls who venture into an unknown realm and are (in most versions) rescued, and yet they are also distinctly unlike. Firstly, these tales originated in different times under different circumstances. Alice's Advent
W
Wolves in Wonderland
A child, who does not know by heart such tales as Cinderella and The Boy who Cried Wolf, seems to have missed something in childhood. But after we grow too old for "make-believe", do we stop to consider the differences between these stories – their origins, their roles in our lives, their darker sides? Take Alice in Wonderland and Little Red Riding Hood, for example. Both Alice and Red, the protagonists of the stories, are innocent girls who venture into an unknown realm and are (in most versions) rescued, and yet they are also distinctly unlike. Firstly, these tales originated in different times under different circumstances. Alice's Advent
I
If You Mess With Us
The girl tugged hesitantly at his frayed robe, wondering what mysteries laid behind those wrinkles.  The monk, quivering with the effort, turned around and smiled toothlessly.  "What is it that you desire, young one?" His voice was cracked and yellowed. "I want to know what karma is." It was a beat-up old Ford that the man drove, one of those dumps that had nothing working right: the steering wheel was clammy,  styrofoam was sticking out of the seats, the tank was leaky,  and the radio was busted.  Never mind the radio.  His little brother, the musician freak, was strumming a guitar, chanting "if you mess with us … lalala … if you mess with
F
For the Love of Swimming
A highlight of any gymnasium tour is the swimming pool, a formidable area that attracts all types of creatures: students, seniors, health inspectors, coaches and a multitude unicellular organisms. The pool at Jericho community centre can be reached via two separate change rooms, which are afflicted by shower-head leaks, rusting, and fuzzy black growths beneath the mats. The entrance to the pool itself can be blocked by an ominous portcullis-style gate, but the aroma of sweat mingling with chlorine has crept into the room anyway, unmindful the safety and sanitary precautions plastered to the grating. Past the padlocked fence, the cement floor
A
A Well-Practiced Gesture
"… and they lived happily ever after." He gently put the book down and kissed her forehead, brushed aside her glazed golden locks; he tip-toed outside, and was about to close the door when – "Daddy, that doesn't make any sense. Why would the miller want to lie to the king? And I thought that the ground is hard. How can you stick your foot in and get ripped in two? The story's all wrong. I thought he was the good guy. How come he doesn't get to live happily ever after?" The man scratched his head sheepishly, looking like a pickpocket caught red-handed. A stream of flour cascaded from his straw-like hair. "… who?" "Rumpled-stilts-tin. How c
T
The Winning Loser
London of the fifteenth century. Cobblestone alleyways, flickering oil streetlamps, elongated shadows. A tentacled fog, spreading ink, running like wine through the streets. Yet in the midst of this enigma, the great Renaissance was spreading. In a shuttered little barber shop, two surgeons were bickering over the bald head of the customer. Said the skinny one: “But I’m sure it’s ginger you’re supposed to mix in! I just read a new pamphlet about how it stimu– ” “You lie. It’s clover and cinnamon. Parkins is a doctor and he said so himself. Clover makes the hair grow and ginger makes the hair turn whi
Ruthenium 101
52
6
T
The Dream who Stopped By
This morning I caught a dream in the little web I leave hanging on my bedpost. #$%@! What do you think you’re doing?! Whoa. I stepped back. The dream threw a handful of porcupine needles at me. Let me go! The frayed threads of my web were thrumming with an otherworldly sound. It assaulted me with magnetic disco cubes, and a plague of flying piranhas, – I covered my head – ten thousand screeching toenails on a chalkboard, and a gale force vacuum cleaner. I backed towards the door in fear. The dream was swearing without restraint, threatening me with an iron wok and seventeen sharpened HB pencils, singeing my eyebrows, and, in es
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Quail and Quagga
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World War Two: Simple Version
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Home and the Fairies
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Annus Novus
                    These evenings the sky turns                    red, bright like never before.                           The fingertips of trees peek                         over the windowsill. A wind                    roars across the bleached savannah,                         mane of brittle leaves.                                                         My scarf falls to the ground.                    I watch a man obsessed with beauty                        die of cholera on
p
peace on earth
. pine tree crucified   in christmas lights / kids kicking   a snowman’s head home .
ACEO 2 - Never A Good Sign
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Family Portrait
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Top of Their World - colored
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Spotlight

T
The Dream who Stopped By
This morning I caught a dream in the little web I leave hanging on my bedpost. #$%@! What do you think you’re doing?! Whoa. I stepped back. The dream threw a handful of porcupine needles at me. Let me go! The frayed threads of my web were thrumming with an otherworldly sound. It assaulted me with magnetic disco cubes, and a plague of flying piranhas, – I covered my head – ten thousand screeching toenails on a chalkboard, and a gale force vacuum cleaner. I backed towards the door in fear. The dream was swearing without restraint, threatening me with an iron wok and seventeen sharpened HB pencils, singeing my eyebrows, and, in es
99
6
Canada
Deviant for 12 years
Badges
Llama: Llamas are awesome! (2)
Finest of 2007
There is a little mindblowing extravaganza going on at http://news.deviantart.com/article/40144/, and, if you have the nerve to read through all that fanfare and champagne, you'll see what's going on below. My picks for the best deviations of 2007, tragically unaccompanied by pictures nor bold underlines. http://chungamunga.deviantart.com/art/Mr-Nose-and-the-Onion-63968142 Mr. Nose and the Onion As said before, Mr. Nose is the sad little story of a man who's had enough. The colour choice, easy-to-follow storyline, and relatable Mr. Nose all serve to make this a unique piece. http://aurablade.deviantart.com/art/I-like-buttons-stamp-6918025
Slews of Globalisation
So. What's an example of globalisation? Answer: Princess Diana's death. Question: How come? Answer: An English princess with an Egyptian boyfriend crashes in a French tunnel driving a German car with a Dutch engine driven by a Belgian who was drunk on Scotch whiskey followed closely by Italian Paparazzi on Japanese motorcycles treated by an American doctor using Brazilian medicines. This is sent to you by Indian using Bill Gates's technology and you're probably reading this on your computer that uses Taiwanese chips and a Korean monitor assembled by Bangladeshi workers in a Singapore plant transported by Pakistan lorry
september
Winter is falling on us fast. So ... how is everyone? (one) September's been fraught with five days of camping yet again; this time portaging and canoing, getting burned to resemble a crisped, slightly scorched potato chip, cooking stir-fry with raw rice, and getting angry at people on the ferry (you know who you are!). I didn't get bitten so much this time. :dance: (two) I'm looking for song suggestions this month. Any particular band or group you like? Movie soundtracks, improvisations, etcetera ... especially jazzy stuff. The other day, I found the sheet music for the theme to A Beautiful Mind (great, if not creepy movie, by the way), an

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PowerCrystalPower's avatar
PowerCrystalPower|Hobbyist General Artist
Happy New Year! I hope that all is well with you!
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arachibutyrophobic's avatar
and to you too! anything new?
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Narchise's avatar
Narchise|Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Epic signature maaaan <3
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arachibutyrophobic's avatar
thanks! feel free to steal it.
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Narchise's avatar
Narchise|Hobbyist Traditional Artist
ok sure xD
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DexMecha's avatar
DexMecha|Student General Artist
watch out for the peanut butter!!! IT'S EXTRA STICKY!!!! oh noes... O.o
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arachibutyrophobic's avatar
arghghghghghghhgurgle ... i drown in saliva.
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