Unless you don't know

What it feels like, an apt decision to determine ones fate to give up the lies that bound in us our hate.
It's this feeling that binds us and altogether changes us, but without it we collapse and fall into nothing.
With a life that knows no bounds fighting a moral obligation our choices reflect our life's regrets.

Prologues and why they generally suck.

With the amount of movies recently wishing to expand their storyline and their wallets only to find that they've ended the sequels too quickly with no possible chance to bring another sequel on the end without inventing some kind of ressurection machine/time travel device/general bullshit story that goes something like this "Hey, I bet you didnt realise that the sword went through his arm, NOT his heart therefore he stills lives haha you lose," many movie series are going ahead and making prequels to tell a story that happened before the shit that you already saw in an attempt to further explain the storyline of the characters in the future films which you probably wouldve known about already just by looking up a wikipedia page about the movie or just by watching the movie closely and picking up on all the clues they drop along the way.

This fact behind prologues means that every prologue film ends up spending 1 hour showing you some cool action scenes, 30 minutes filling in some interesting answers for possibly future trivia night quizzes and the other 30 minutes (generally the last 30 minutes of the film) telling you things that you already know if you had already watched the first few movies of the series. And if you decide to take the path of watching the series in chronological order (by the order the movies run, not the dates theyre released) then youre going to find it extremelly frustrating as the prologues generally assume you know who the fuck everyone is.

I mean, sure they can be entertaining and good for the fans, but other then a bunch of action scenes all you really find out is how they managed to make bullshit out of nothing enough to give their wallets an extra inch in diameter.

"Well Sir, Your Head Runs A Curious Establishment"

"Well Sir," said The Psychoanalyst, analyzing The Patients' psychology report, "your head runs a very curios establishment."
"I don't know Doc, I just don't know. What is even worth doing when the whole world thinks you're crazy?"
Completely oblivious to The Patients' insights, "Now you have come up in this report as being somewhat less than normal. Can you account for that?"
"Why? Because I think that I deserve a place in this world?"
"That might have something to do with it... Hmmm, yes. Well, we have an electroshock therapy for that if you might be interested?"
"Doesn't that have links with causing cancer?"
"Bah, no no, none of that rot. It's perfectly safe and normal, no harm ever done to anyone."
"I'd really just prefer to talk to someone-"
"What day won't you be doing anything?"
"Pretty much everyday seeing as though I got fired and the only person that talks to me now is you."
"So is Tuesday fine for you?"
"And sometimes I don't even think you're listening to me."
"Excellent, Three o'clock did you say? I'm sorry but that isn't available but you can come in at Five o'clock, last session of the day."
"You're not listening to me..."
"Hmmm? What did you say? Nevermind it's not important, anyway, so come in next Tuesday for your therapy."
"I don't want to go to it."
"Of course you don't, that's fine, but you've booked it now so you must come."
"I want to throw myself in front of a train."
"Excellent! See you Tuesday, bye bye now!"

***


Explanation: Conversation to myself while working today. The Psychoanalyst is a bit of a inconsiderate bastard.

Failed Inspiration Due To Mans Lack Of Building Things

Basically I was having lunch today for my 30 minute lunch break and then I decided to write some words before I got back to work. I got as far as you're about to read until my pen died. I now feel like carrying an ink pen and bottle everywhere because then at least I'll have ink (but then comes the risk of it leaking into my shoulder bag...


A lot of stinking
wetched walkabouts.
Drowning deep
within their sorrow.
The rest left to ponder...

What world awaits me
beyond creativity.
What darkness prevails in me,
when watching your heartbeat.

Nothing is ever right.
No one is ever pure.
What is dreamt within us,
leaves us broken, not cured.


... but then again, maybe it didn't need anymore written and the pen dying was giving my writings perfectionism... one can hope...

Expanding My Posts

Well what do I write easier then anything else? Obscure poetry...

Taken from journal, [Date: a few days ago]

One Little Drop
And The Rest Begins To Flow
A Nice Spot of Red
To Match The Loneliest Swallow

The others bit big,
The little did care itself,
And your mother cries,
While your sorrow dries.

Welcome

First blog always has to be a welcome blog, imagine walking up to someone with out a hello. Its absurd, you're absurd. But allow me to continue.

Decisions to go blogging because Myspace is dying, Deviantart isn't that good for this stuff, and Twitter is another thing itself.

Feel free to google Dead James Gray (or deadjamesgray) you'll likely find me in many shapes and forms.

Blog shall be updated soon with refreshing new html and designs.