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Judas Carver
15 November 2009 @ 05:38 am
Now I lay me down to sleep.

I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

And should I die before break of day:

Well... the world and I never got along, anyway.





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Music: Chris Isaak - Black Flowers
 
 
Judas Carver
14 November 2009 @ 01:48 am
Ganked from [info]fayemeadows.  
I didn’t cheat in the slightest.

So some of these are awful.

But others are so on the money it’s eerie (I’ve marked them).


The Rules:
1. Open your library ( Winamp )
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button




Opening Credits: Rocky Mountain Way – Joe Walsh *

Waking Up: Rock n’ Roll - Motörhead *

First Day of School: Read the Lines - Wolfsheim *

Losing Virginity: Linda Lou - Sherman Robertson

Breaking Up: No Alibis – Eric Clapton *

Prom: Stumptown – Nickel Creek

Life: No Man’s Land - Covenant *

Mental Breakdown: Devil I Know - Motörhead

Driving: Sword of Glory - Motörhead

Flashback: Uncle Tom’s Cabin - Warrant *

Getting Back Together: Someone Must Get Hurt – She Wants Revenge*

Wedding: Do What You Have To Do – Sarah MacLachlan

Birth of Child: Stoned – The Rolling Stones

Final Battle: By The Way – Big Wreck

Death Scene: Dead Horse – Guns & Roses *

Funeral Song: Love Hurts - Nazareth *

Ending Credits: Time Is on My Side – The Rolling Stones *






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Mood: surprised
 
 
Judas Carver
For all the bad press I get:

Once in great while, I get something like this.



The words are almost two years old.

But that does not diminish their truth.




(Except the “no alcohol” statement.

I’ve kept booze at-the-ready ever since.)






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Music: Johnny Cash - Man in Black
 
 
Judas Carver
11 November 2009 @ 01:23 am
You know, for a devil:

I’m not all bad.



Perhaps it’s just ischemic pain/phantom limb syndrome:

But there are those rare days when I still feel my wings.




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Music: Ozzy Osbourne - Back on Earth
 
 
 
Judas Carver
07 November 2009 @ 06:01 am
[ A dream ]


The room is dimly lit and shadowed.

It cages only we, two.



I sit, dragging off a cigarette.

Sipping whiskey.

She dominates the stage.

A sultry, black-clad beauty.

Her tantalizing outfit devours the light that illuminates her.

As my eyes devour her.



She dances.

Solely for me.

There is no society to impose false pretenses.

There are no other onlookers to judge.

We are permitted to be just what we are.



As she writhes and sways to the rhythm, she experiences a paradox.

Feeling vulnerable.

Yet powerful.

Knowing her body is weapon that she can wield.

Or relinquish.

Uncertain if victory or defeat will bring the greater reward.



Like the shade that bathes the room, the line between hunter and hunted blurs.

To the beat, her clothing peels away.

Along with her inhibitions.

It’s at that pure and perfect moment she surrenders.

Like a pharaoh’s servant buried, still living, with her master.

Like a virgin sacrifice in some ancient blood ritual.

Like an early Christian fed to lions.



Allowing me to consume her:

She achieves a higher state.

And we are both sated.





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Music: :wumpscut: - Wreath of Barbs
 
 
Judas Carver
07 November 2009 @ 03:13 am
~




Soylěnt Vert Beauty Products

* For women; from women. *


Because, like Elizabeth Báthory, every girl wants to be the fairest princess.

And sisterhood is everything.






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Mood: amused
 
 
Judas Carver
I'd like to believe Harry Thompson, co-creator of the brilliant black-comedy series 'Monkey Dust', is resting in peace on this day.

The anniversary of his death.




He died of lung cancer.

Despite having never smoked a single cigarette.



Now there’s a joke for you, Harry.

And, being well-acquainted with your work:

I’m sure you got it.



Thanks for all the truth you told and laughs you gave while doing so.

May God keep you close, always.





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Music: The Bee Gees - I Started A Joke
 
 
Judas Carver
It sounds as though it’s raining indoors.

I have no idea if the steady falling liquid is urine or saline.

Or some drug mixed with water.

There are far too many machines in the hospital room for me to pinpoint its origin.

Still, it lulls me into a small state of relaxation.



As I look at my dying grandmother, I think of the doctor’s words:

“To be honest, we were surprised she’s lasted this long.”

I only smirk in reply.

I don’t tell her I’m not.

I come from a long line of hate and anger.

Not racists.

Bigots.

Or savages.

Rather, simple folk raging against a world of madness and apathy.



My grandmother lives because she hates where she is.

In a hospital.

In a bed.

Most of all, in an aged body that refuses to cooperate.



But I know she is scared.

Even with her deep faith.

Even with her mature recognition of her condition.

Though her body is frail and failing, her eyes shine.

Fighting yet frightened.



I picture my mother.

Wisps of hair and nauseous from chemotherapy.

Fighting yet frightened.



Admittedly, I have not yet suffered as they have.

I have, however, endured many near-death experiences.

During each and every one:

I have felt fear, true

But, without exception, a sense of peace and calm enveloped me.



Death, to me, is no black-hooded specter.

Scythe in hand.



To me, Death is a beautiful woman.

Touching my face after love-making that bordered on, then crossed into, tantric magick.

Touching my face, saying in hushed, dulcet tones through a smile:

“Sleep, my love.

Sleep.

You have earned it.”






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Music: Peter Murphy - Cuts You Up
 
 
Judas Carver
Most folks use the day to put on masks.

I use it to take mine off.



Arriving at the Halloween party, I’m pleased with my decision.

I’m dressed as the Reverend Jesse Custer.

Of Garth Ennis’s Preacher fame.

Collar and jacket.

Smirk and disheveled hair.

Accurate down to the “Fuck Communism” lighter in my pocket.



There are bands playing various cover tunes as I move through the crowd.

But when one particular song is played:

I stop.

And listen closely.

Thinking of [info]rasputinaxp's association of it to me.



When the opening chords to the only Bon Jovi song I like ring out, I get pensive.

I look at the monsters, fairies and other creatures that fill the room.

It’s then I realize that I’m really no different.

I’m just another unwelcome myth.

Another fading legend.

As far as the world at large is concerned – its love letter to me is four words long:

Wanted: Dead or Alive.





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Music: Bon Jovi - Wanted: Dead or Alive