This is ground control to Major Tom.

Is that not the most adorable picture you've ever seen? Anyway, on to the breaking news of my life. (ie; an actual bloody update.)

Took my first stab at songwriting, today. *snooty voice* Bear in mind that I was classically trained at a conservatory as a child-prodigy, orchestrating and composing at the tender age of seven. < /braggage>) But seeing how I haven't written since I was about 14, and that it's never been anything but classical, this was a step in a different direction. I don't want to give too much away, but as of now it's called "In My Head", and [as I said to John], not to be confused with another popular song with that name. ;) Also, many of you were part of my inspiration, so for that I thank you.

Also, I am leaving for a brief holiday in the wilderness on Sunday. I shall be bringing Shira (laptop) with me, but I'm not sure if I will get any internet, or if I do, how often I'll be able to get online. Anyway, I shall try very hard to. (Lord knows I'll be bored enough.) My mother will most likely try to set me up with Adam. He's quite cute (looks a bit like a young Pete) but I just don't like the idea of being set up, y'dig? I shall take many pictures, in any event.

Rockstar: Supernova starts on the sixth, and as it pains me to say it, yes, I am excited. I miss Rockstar. It won't be the same without Marty, or Jordis, or Suzie, but I look at it as an opportunity to pick a new favourite.

Well, I s'pose that's all for now. I was planning to do a voice post with a bit of my new song. You can see how well that turned out. Anyway, keep an eye out for the next chapter in Rhiannon. I rather like the direction it's taken.

Drop me a comment. Let me know how you're doing.
-L-

Rhiannon: Chapter 2

Rhiannon was a pretty girl with eyes of blue. She was raised on minimal amounts of love and affection, given to her by her family, which consisted of her mother and younger brother, Steven. Her father had deserted them when she was still a little girl. No one seemed to know where he had gone, just that he had. Although Rhiannon and her father had never really connected, she still remembered some little things about him. Her mother treated Rhiannon as though she were an adult. Even when she was still quite small, she was taught to defend herself, as well as cook and clean. Her mother was never the same after the disappearance of Rhiannon's father. It all seemed so out of the blue. As a result, Rhiannon was often forgotten about. Especially after the baby arrived. Rhiannon never recieved praise for any gold stars on her papers. She never got an ice-cream or even so much as a "nice work, Rhiannon" for a stellar report card. And Rhiannon was a good little girl. But she was unlike any other.

In grade school, she excelled greatly, beyond all of the other children. She did every assignment on time and was an exceptional speller. But when Rhiannon's mother was called in for a routine parent teacher conference, it was for a different reason.
"Rhiannon's been behaving rather... strange, lately."
"What do you mean, strange?" asked her mother.
"Well.." the teacher paused and folded her hands neatly in her lap before continuing. "She's being a bit too.." she paused again, as if searching for the right words. "... physical. With the other students."
The words sent her mother into shock. Physical? Rhiannon? She would barely touch her own family, let alone strange children.
"How do you mean, 'physical'? Rhiannon's not--"
"She's been hugging them." The teacher interjected. These words chained her mother into silence, and she glanced over the teacher's shoulder at the fingerpaintings on the wall.
"H.. hugging them..?" her mother whispered. The teacher nodded and unfolded her hands.
"I find it strange as well, Mrs. Bell. In fact, I've never seen anything like it, and I've been teaching for twelve years." She spoke calmly, re-pinning her hair.
"What does she do?" her mother quietly asked.
"I've seen children hug their friends before, Mrs. Bell, and that's nothing out of the ordinary. But Rhiannon hugs everyone. Even the faculty, on occasion. It's the strangest thing.." she trailed off and placed a finger to her lip, as though deep in thought. After a moment of silence between the two of them, the teacher turned to her mother, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Do you... hug your daughter, Mrs. Bell?"
Taken off guard and shocked by the question, she let out a gasp.
"Of course I hug my daughter," she lied. The teacher shook her head and sighed, as she rose from the chair.
"I don't know. She's a wonderful little girl. And so bright. I just wanted to tell you about.. that." The two women shook hands uneasily, and with that, Mrs. Bell left the room.

That night, Rhiannon went with her mother and Steven to the department store. Rhiannon, as usual, was allowed to roam about the store as she pleased, so long as she was back at the registers by seven. She wandered around without a purpose, dragging her small hands through aisles of winter coats. She would sneak in between them to the center of the circular racks and giggle to herself. She was hidden safely in her foxhole, and the enemy would never be able to find her. When it was nearly seven, Rhiannon began skipping carelessly back to the front of the store, when all of a sudden she stopped. She stared up at the long tweed coats in front of her. Her brain flashed back; she was sitting on one of these coats.. no. She was snuggled up against the person wearing this coat. She stepped closer and breathed in the smell. "Daddy.." her little voice whispered. She took another step forward and wrapped her tiny arms around as many of them as she could, burying her face in them. There he was. Holding her and laughing, telling her what a sweet girl she was. How he would love her forever, that she was his little angel. She smiled to herself as he spun her around. He was singing a strange song she'd never heard before. A song about her. Suddenly a strong hand wrapped around her wrist and yanked her away.
"Come on, Rhiannon, I told you to meet me at seven..."

-L-

This is my cat, Logan. And a random poem.

Politicians fill your heads
With ironic hypocrisy.
They claim to preach equality
And freedom, through democracy.
Listen, won't you, ingrates
To these words, if you so choose.
For if you don't, I promise you
You'll be the first to lose.

Is it our world leaders?
Or some fantastic ghost?
The ones who you respect?
Or the ones who you hate most?
The answer, friends, is simple.
I'll say it, cos it's true.
The problem isn't far from home
Because it's me and you.

-L-

I swear there's more Rhiannon coming, soon.

Rhiannon: Chapter 1

Inspired by something I don't know, I've decided to start writing something that I don't know what to call. For now, let's call it Rhiannon.

Rhiannon: Chapter 1
"Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night, and wouldn't you love to love her?"

She was trying to count how many pills she had taken that afternoon when the phone rang. She let the machine get it.

"Rhiannon it's mom." There was a short pause. "Alright I guess you're out. Call me back later, babe." The line went dead and she brushed a piece of hair out of her cold blue eyes. She was staring blankly at the counter. How many were there, thirteen? Fourteen? How many where there before? There had to have been at least twenty. She turned the bottle over idly in her hands before collapsing with a soft thud onto the carpet.

When she awoke, it wasn't on the floor where she remembered passing out. She was in her bed, no, another bed. And it was cold, quite cold. The window in this room had been left open, and the lacy curtains were waving continuously in the draft. Rather than try to get her bearings, Rhiannon stumbled out of bed and threw the door open wide. There were people in the hall. People she didn't recognise. She hobbled blindly towards the end of the corridor, where there were even more strangers and a bright, orange lamp. She distinctly remembered this lamp, for some reason. As though she'd already seen it in some distant dream. One of the strangers grabbed her wrist and smiled at her. He asked where she was headed, but she only wriggled free and kept walking. When she realised that there was no way out, Rhiannon started to panic.

It began to grow dark in the unfamiliar room. The lamp's bright glow started to dwindle until there was nothing but the sound of the strangers breathing. One of them muttered something incoherently. She heard her name come as a whisper off the tongue of another. She whirled around frantically, anxious to see a bit of something, anything. As her eyes adjusted, the orange glow began to return, but this time it was outside. She ran to the nearest wall and pounded furiously, demanding that she be released. Suddenly, the wall vanished. As a matter of fact, all of them did. And the people. And the room. And then the other rooms began to disappear. Soon, there was nothing left. So Rhiannon warily approached the light, which was now twinkling faintly, across a pool in this backyard.

When she reached it, it appeared to be a large insect. It had magnificent, clear, sparkling wings, but they were not moving. It was suspended, mid-air, in animation, with the glow radiating brightly from it's backside. Rhiannon hovered her hand over the tip of its abdomen before letting her fingertips caress it gently. At the first contact between her skin and the insect's, The light changed from a deep orange to a vibrant blue, and it began to sing. It was the sweetest music that had ever touched her ears. She closed her eyes, fully absorbing the frequencies and tones it was releasing.

Finally, as with everything else, the bug disappeared by bursting into a thousand tiny beads, and then dissolving into the air. The only sound was a soft, comforting hum as the pieces floated away. This scene was one of the strangest dreams Rhiannon had ever experienced. But it wasn't the first.

Questions? Comments? Concerns?
-L-

Booooooris the keeeeeychaaaain...

I hope this isn't pulling the "blank white page" schtick...
I bought a corset. It's black with lacy trim, lots of ribbon and some little metal adornments. You have no idea how happy it makes me. AND it was on sale. I tried to take photos but failed miserably. I shall have to try again, later. But never fear, you *shall* see photos. Rocky Horror screening is next weekend, and my outfit is coming along quite nicely. I was planning to go as Columbia (my favourite) but with this corset, I'm starting to look more like Magenta. Oh well, perhaps I'll just go dressed up. Not as someone, just dressed up, haha.

In other news, "In The Attic: On The Road!" was fantastic, today... great songs from Mikey Rachel and Si, and Pete did "Too Much Of Anything" (which, oddly enough, I just learned) on a 12 string and it sounded fucking fantastic. I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep up with every show, what with work and all, but I'm going to try and watch as many episodes as I can. Perhaps I'll do more cartoons for them. They've got those flash animations now, so why not, eh? :P

Speaking of work... I've got to go soon, and I've got aches all over. Bargh. Well, at least work is fun.

Hope everyone's doing well.
-L-

Free, when I dance with you.

Just now, I was practicing an assortment of piano accented Who songs. Shortly after I had played the three opening chords to "Love Reign O'er Me", I heard a booming, house-rattling crash of thunder, and sheets of rain started pouring from the sky. From this event, I have concluded the following:

I am the rain maker.

Yes, it's true. So those who know me should feel honoured. I am one of Mother Nature's most hailed accomplices.

... So of course I had to run outside (fully clothed, mind you) and run around and do cartwheels in my creation. It was loads of fun. I documented what I could on film, and I shall make good use of it in my summer documentary. At this rate, the final cut should run for about 5 days straight, with some creative editing, haha.

Then I came back inside, only to find that my cat had shit on my favourite Who-zine. It was an old one; from about 2 years ago. The little bastard. Sadly, it could not be salvaged. He couldn't have shit on the old Adrien Brody mag that for some reason was still under my bed. No, no. He had to go for the good stuff.

Anyway, that's all. Just wanted to tell you all that the simple pleasures of life are often the best.
-L-

And now, the time, the time is now.

This is from the new Cirque Du Soleil called "Love". It's all Beatles music. Who wants to take me? :) Anyway...

The mosquitoes have returned. The lemonade stands are popping up. Yard sales are plentiful. Light and colourful clothing hangs in department stores. I've just found a place I can scratch on my toe that makes my leg kick, involuntarily.


... yes, summer is here, again.
Mum (the arsehole) is forbidding me to see Eric. I begged her, pulled the "how many more chances like this am I going to have" bit, but she wasn't having any of it. Cor, I hate her so much, sometimes. I'm pondering just going ahead and buying them, but I know how that would end. And frankly, I'd rather not go there. It just sucks. Really, really, really, really sucks. Bargh.

Been having weirdo psycho killer (quest que cest) dreams, lately. I won't bother going into detail, but there have been many. And they have been strange. Ah, well. Oh, and I got to inform mum that I was a terror when I was little. Apparently, according to my teachers, I was "simply a joy". Maybe that was in between shoving kids down, punching them in the chest, and throwing sand in their face to protect my domain of the sandbox. I'm not sure. In any case, her reaction was fun.

S'pose that's all for now. Working for pops, tomorrow, plus an interview at the bookstore for yet a third job. Wish me luck. Oy.

-L-

Sorry the photos are so huge.

1.) Turkey in the graveyard. Not very artsy, just... rather odd.


2.) Duckies. :)


3.) Kind of a cool facade shot. (I'm saving the better ones for last.)


4.) Goosey. :)


5.) Haha... I just like funny looking signs.


6.) Train tracks shot. I dig this one a lot. There was one in colour too, but of course, B&W suits train tracks much better.


7.) Sepia of the same.


8.) I dig this one a lot, as well. I tried spot-colouring the bird, but the water is so blue, and I didn't want to lose that. Behold.


9.) Shot one of the rowers, before the spot-colouring.


10.) Shot two; bright, determined rowers in their grey, dismal world. O, agony!


11.) My absolute favourite of all of them. The photo was mostly grey anyway, but the boats were so bright and vibrant, so there was hardly any editing involved. This was my first attempt at spot-colouring, and I'm just so pleased with the end result. :)

Anywho... this good day --> shitty night pattern doesn't seem to be showing any signs of stopping. Don't ask, alright?

I tried to write a couple of letters today but failed, miserably. I got terribly distracted. So fear not, loves, I haven't forgotten you. Or Morningstar Farms. Or Pete. Ahem. Moving on.

I've decided to start work on a children's book based on the song "Happy Jack". I'd probably use one or two lines per page, plus illustrations and such. It's strange, the ideas that come to me in the wee hours between consciousness and unconsciousness. The previous night I developed a product brand called "Fucking", in which all the products are "Fucking" this and "Fucking" that. Pretty clever, eh? I'm sure it's been done.

On a completely random, un-related side note, I've decided this lad who works for my father, Will, is essentially my male counterpart. I found out that he's a vegetarian as well, not to mention our countless music chatter. He also plays guitar. I suspect he'll propose sometime next week.

So on that random note, I bid you all adieu. Time for more left-over tofu stir-fry. Mm.

-L-

Ignite your bones.

Shitty morning --> fun day --> shitty night.

... Oh, life.

Worked for pops again, today... there was another guy working for him, as well. The car repairman's son (from next door.) He's shy and kind of cute in that offbeat sort of way. Plus, we had a brief but satisfying conversation about music and he passes my test. (He likes the classics.) Unfortunately I had to inform him that John Entwistle had been dead for 4 years. Poor boy. I might try to snap a photo without appearing too creepy.
I also officially quit T.J. Maxx, thank god. Was sick of that place.

I've got work at Spencer's 3 days next week, and tomorrow I'm presenting an award at my high school's television production award ceremony (BOLTZ). I'm an alumni. Haha.

So things are (kind of) starting to shape up. At least mum isn't breathing down my neck anymore about finding work. Now she's just breathing down my neck about working for my asshole father and breathing fumes in all day. Always gotta be something!

And now I'm off to finish my tangerine smoothie and watch a bit of television. O, the exciting life I lead!

-L-

P.S: I forgot the whole reason for making this post. I've learned "Great Gig In The Sky". Sans the vocals, of course, but it is pretty amusing to see people's reactions when you scream along and tell them it's a real song. I also learned "Brain Damage" and it sounds quite lovely on the ol' pie-ana. That is all. Over and out.

Public Service Announcement:

= one of the coolest old guys out there.
I missed In The Life Aquattic.

:(
-L-