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twistedRHETORIC
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read my profile
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Name: Sir Daniel the Omega
State: Maryland
Gender: Male
Interests: Saving the universe. Harvesting thought.
Expertise: Shock/trauma invocations. Deconstructing time, space, and logic. Rocking your world.
Occupation: Second-Best Friend
Industry: Classical Music
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  VocaExSilentia
Member Since:
12/7/2004
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| Amber
Tonight was a good night, but I'm having trouble breathing. I hope it's because she took my breath away, not because I feel weighed down. It wouldn't make sense to feel weighed down by anything, especially with her, so I'm going to go with my girl being breathtaking and the rest of my life gripping my heart. Or maybe it's because I know I'm falling, and this is just the vertigo that comes with love. Who knows? I rarely express how I feel in the moment anymore (like this), because later on I'll look back and shake my head in disagreement or in sympathy, but sometimes I feel like I'm putting this journal to waste. This is not meant to be a public post, and yet, I let all of you read it. I don't know why I do it; perhaps all my jokes about being an attention whore are truer than I make them out to be. For any reason, it happens, and here I am, telling you how I feel instead of showing you. I think I show too much sometimes, and then people often misinterpret what they see. I don't like that, so I have to explain it. In a way, I enjoy writing entries like this rather than my usually cryptic and pretentious prose or poetry, but the problem is that I value the latter a great deal more than the former. However, I will carry on; there is no one here to judge my conduct save for myself. Well, perhaps the readers, but are they so merciless? Are you so unkind? Call me emo or what have you, but this is my vie privée on display, rather than what I'd prefer you to see. I would not like reading this any more than you would (if you've read on to this point, that is), but I can't stop typing until I've cleared my mind of everything. I haven't written much, but now that it's down, the weight has been lifted altogether.
Incredible.
I just saw a flash of life, right before my eyes.
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| Immature Musical Ramblings
If I could trap the glow of a compact disc, bottle it up and drink it, I believe everything would become infinitely more interesting. All hip hop vocals would sound like the love child of Vinnie Paz and Black Thought, except with even more lyrical references to Illadelph and space travel. I would make Indie rocker snobs finally realize that they are the musical equivalent of those annoying Comic Con geeks who know everything and correct the most minute mistakes. I would have actually "heard them," instead of "heard about them." Rap would revert back to the innocence of Adidas-rocking Run DMC making a collaborative effort with Steven Tyler of Aerosmith. Michael Jackson would still be the pop king and no one would judge him for where his gloves go. Sub-genres would finally be labeled as "other," or "experimental," and I wouldn't need to keep track of that shit. All pop-punk rock bands would have sex with each other and become one giant Megazord (Orgyzord?) of pop-punk rock bands; Jimmy Eat World would be the head, while New Found Glory would be the mangled, syphilis inflicted cock, spraying the pus of horrible music on Blink-182 fans who just want them to get together again. Coldplay would eventually take off their human suits to reveal their cyborg exoskeletons, while Radiohead would lash out with tasers to destroy their robotic imposters. Audioslave would descend from a blimp as a reincarnated Led Zeppelin, and many cheers would be heard. Coheed and Cambria would come out with albums faster, while Claudio Sanchez would fuck every woman on earth to prove his vocal range is a blessing and not a homosexual curse. Godspeed! You Black Emperor would shorten their name to Godspeed, Pretentious Ass and then shorten that to Tool. Hardcore bands would keep kicking ass like they do, while AFI would try as hard as they can to fit in with Converge fans. Weird Al Yankovich would parody Animal Collective and subsequently get raped by his own hair. Ashlee Simpson would have only been a horrible nightmare, instead of a world-destroying nightmare. Sam Beam's beard would engulf all the bands on the Projekt Revolution tour and spit them out with good taste in music. Linkin Park would record another Hybrid Theory-worthy album. The members of Reel Big Fish would turn into really big cartoon fish and star in a Little Mermaid remake where they gang bang the little mermaid. NWA would become the horsemen of a new world order and bring in the apocalypse... with attitude. Daft Punk would take over France and then France would be a pretty okay place to visit. Tegan and Sara would give me kisses. Marilyn Manson would be president with a cabinet of Amanda Palmer as the Secretary of State (Dirty Business?), Sufjan Stevens as Secretary of the Interior (Illinoise?), The Blood Brothers as Secretaries of Homeland Security (Fire to the Face on Fire?), Dr. Dre as Secretary of Agriculture (Chronic 2001?), an undead Johnny Cash as Secretary of Labor (If I Were a Carpenter?), Luciano Pavarotti as Secretary of Defense (cause that would be fucking awesome), Lindsay Lohan as Secretary of Health and Human Services (hells of irony), Kanye West as Secretary of the Treasury (I don't even know anymore), and Rancid as Secretaries of Transportation (why the hell not?). Ray Charles would rise from the grave without a sense of smell or taste and make more wonderful music about being pissed off at his multiple handicaps. Matisyahu would turn out to be the true Messiah, and there would be much rejoicing. Freddy Mercury would have been straight and spawned multiple super-children who would grow into the multi-talented Harlem Globetrotters. Sarah McLachlan would sing me to sleep. Bjork would make a song that I actually get. Sigur Ros would add vocals to his music. Simple Plan and Good Charlotte would have a slap-fight to the death, with no victory on either side. Snow Patrol would team up with Arctic Monkeys and form the band Arctic Snow-Monkey Patrol and earn a popular anime on Adult Swim. Brand New would stop being so goddamned emo. Aaron Lewis of Staind would lose weight and finally get all the ass he deserves, not that he doesn't get any at the moment. Stephen Lynch would become a guitar-ninja and recruit other singing comedians into his band of night-serenading-assassins. System of a Down would stop being so badass and then say "fuck you" and then become badass once again. Tenacious D would be the national minstrels and "Fuck Her Gently" would replace "The Star Spangled Banner." Bert McCracken would be crushed in a car compacter but would sound exactly the same. Jack White would replace Cedric Bixler-Zavala in The Mars Volta and their lyrics would finally make some fucking sense. Spoon would stay the same. I like Spoon. It's too bad I can't eat CD's without rupturing my GI tract.
So what if I've given up on coming up with shit to say? Wanna fight about it?
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| Visiting the Freezing Point of Air
"And we'll never go back and we'll never go back and we'll never go back,"
You say, in dream-talk, while I sit
in a pillow-infested love seat beneath the wall flowers.
Two hands hold a camera, my memory machine made well. A shutter snap and a flash,
A flash again a flash of teeth accompany the moment,
the moment frozen in time while life speeds by. I could beg
You to sleep forever, sweet little
soul, sold and sent my way to strike a split
in the monotony, but think how monotonous sleep is!
You aren't meant to lay in an unconscious blanket of peace,
a bed of dreams that I wish I could photograph along with the tears
and smirks that streak across your face, and it was only another moment
ago that I realized that you, like the tears, would streak across the room and out the door
At the speed of life.
This is that point in time, in temperature,
where I can feel the Panic rise from the ground
and from the thick atmosphere that grows ever thicker, and I know
that when it hits my head and penetrates my lungs, I will sit in a new position:
Catatonic.
Sucking on a rush of red, my heart, my blood machine blasts away until the imminent flash before my eyes clicks it
Down to a softer tempo;
I have read that I should enjoy every second as if it were my last, so I take my final glances
at your lovely being, and then the fear subsides. Immobilized in the solid air, I will sit in a new photograph:
With you, and with the world around me, a shot I could never capture alone.
A flash again a flash of teeth accompanies the moment,
the moment frozen in time while life speeds by.
I beg you please, by my machine: Sleep forever, in beauty, in the reverie,
and we will never go back.
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| About Me
This is all non-fiction.
I enjoy the company of those who can
appreciate the simple things. I generally like people until they start
making a lot of noise; then I just want to.. get away. I like artsy
people since I feel like I can share their perspective on things. The
same goes for anyone else I encounter, but I might not necessarily like
them. I do not hate things, save for indifference. I dislike people who
talk too much and say too little, and I especially dislike grating
voices, whether they be in close proximity or just within earshot. I
like people who can believe what I say until the moment I tell them it
wasn't true, but can then understand that I didn't mean to hurt them
with my deception. I just like understanding, plain and simple. I
dislike cowards, fakes, and sadists. I don't mind backstabbers and
liars, because I am a backstabber and a liar, and as long as we're
honest about that one thing (who we are), then it won't be long until
the rest of humanity realizes just how terrible it has truly become,
and it'll all be justified. I also like people who smile, even if I
don't smile as much as I should, and in that way I'm kind of selfish. I
repeat myself sometimes. I dislike cowards, fakes, and sadists.
Oftentimes I'll find all three wrapped up into one, and the trifecta
will draw me in until I'm within biting range. I am not a coward, a
fake, or a sadist, and again, I don't lie when it comes to matters of
identity.
On cowards: they will lie to and ignore people out
of their own fear or insecurity. They will try to avoid undesirable
situations, and many times make the situations even worse. They hurt
people that they can save, and when given the option, they will turn
and run, rather than stand firmly for what they know is right.
Sometimes, however, they won't even know what "right" is, and that's
just a damned shame, because it means they're hopeless. They will keep
running and running and lying and remaining complacent until one day
they run themselves out, and all the troubles that they've escaped
will, in the end, bear down on them all at once.
On fakes: Some
people are good at it, and some people aren't, but no matter how good
someone is at masking their true self, someone close will always see
through it and then have a sad, sorry realization about the person they
thought was so intelligent, so unique, so tortured, so badass. I'll
make this short: keep it up, keep it up so that the genuine ones can
use you as a stepladder.
On sadists: Those who take pleasure in the suffering of others disgust me to no end.
And now, it pains me to think about just how close I was to all three.
I have serenity. I have courage. I have wisdom.
As I write about myself, I have been edited for content and formatted to fit your screen. Enjoy the show.
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