According to the Max Payne Independent Movie Blog - I'm no Vista... I'm not even so much of a critical security update, I'm more like a system check to make sure everything's running just fine (There's a little love to my Windows geeks out there ;). This "system check" would run a lot smoother, however, if that bitch next door would do me the favour of slitting her throat and gutting out her own cursed vocal cords. I have never heard such bad singing since... I honestly can't remember! The song this lost Siren sister laments is like a haunting from the house of pain. I don't want to go outside and boisterously voice my humble "constructive criticism" because it is a religious song and all are entitled to praise The Lord in any way the deem fit, but I do know a certain bucket of water who holds no qualms about ridding himself of his splashy liquid content by inverting himself over all those who offend him. He's kind of short so I might have to give him a hand ;) The random compilation of notes could very well be my sanity's requiem.
From here on, I could go on about the trouble I got into last week with my late registration, how me and my mom are not on speaking terms at the moment and all that other negative emotional baggage that I'm carrying, but I think I'll spend it by weirding out my audience by what I'm seeing right now.
Have you ever noticed the sky? I mean really looked at it? It's always there - relaxing in a hammock of indefinite suspension, unable to be reached by anyone who was daring enough to try. It just exists for the purpose of existing, changing colors without a care, never trying to hold on to it's last celestial paint job and never unwilling to receive another.
During the early hours of the day, it's eye is wide, it's body is hot like an adrenaline addict who exerts himself until the velocity of his blood tears his veins and his heart desperately pumps battery acid. It's blue youth radiates its energy - a shower of vibrancy never ending. A shower that drenches those lucky enough to receive it, dissolving their chains of fatigue.
As the shower comes to an end and it's last drops reluctantly tear themselves away from the rims of their reservoirs, the sky begins to die. We bleed it of it's youth and energy.
As the sky lies on it's death bed, twilight crawls across it's body like a devious cancer drowning it's light. The amalgamated colors of sunset lose their vibrancy and they camouflage into their black backdrop, slowly but surely, like a student in a new school trying to get lost in the crowd.
It continues to die as our eyes seamlessly convert to the most sensitive of heat detectors. We gaze above and see nothing but the cold, dead thermal readings of a massive body that once diligently looked over us. A monochromatic symphony of completion, transformation... praise.
Now, the sky hangs there - It's skin as black as death, with pores teeming with the last of its heat still trapped within their shallow vallies. The moon's brightness attempts to spoil our eyes as the clouds converge over us, like a parent shielding its children from the sight of death - hiding the living example of how the mighty have fallen. We turn away from the tragedy and retreat to the loving, comforting arms of rest while we mourn subconsciously and wait for the hour until we see the sky's bright young face again.
MMMMMM... Trippy!... I love being high....
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