Fresco

Franscico, or Fresco, of Atlas Shrugged (last entry I forgot the "ed") is without a doubt the best-worst character ever. I won't reveal too much about him because I know someone who follows me will soon read it (omg isn't that awesome?). All I can say my favorite part is when he slaps a girl and when he says, "I still want to sleep with you, but I'm just not happy enough to do it." I know that is sketch, but in context it has great meaning. *sigh* He is amazing. I think he alone kills Max from The Book Theif, which has been considered my favorite book for two years. Could Atlas Shrugged take its place? I am beginning to wonder....

And that's all?

The Most Romantic Man Is Not Romantic at All

The title merely speaks of Atlas Shrugg's charatcer Franscico. He's the dream, but he is awefully a terrble person by default. He has been pegged as the enemy too much. He says the worst thing a man can be is to be a man without a purpose. After that, I realized I didn't know what my purpose was, just that I wanted to write and be read. Maybe that is my purpose.

Right before I read those pages of interesting dialogue on what a despicable man was, I wrote as follows:

The Missing Frame
The portrate of my life
was old the day
the paint dried.
There is no image
of a face;
there is a missing frame.

An aspect is gone,
tainted mostly from day one.
No oils or pastels
can permeate
what they did not create.
There is a missing frame.

What one thought at first glance
is changed by the intoxicate.
All love is killed,
no emotion drawn forth.
It's just a picture.
There is no missing frame.

The poem's title and chorus is based loosely on the song "The Missing Frame" by AFI. The thing about the art simply refers to a most amazing portrat I saw today that reflected me in more than one way. I wonder how conceited I had to be to think I looked like a great peice of art?

And that's all?

Perhaps I will upload an image, sometime.

Randism

I am feeling quite disappointed. I can't bare not having followers of "Poetry:Sound." I might just delete it, and whenever I want to post a poem, I'll post it on here. *sigh* I'm so busy I'm not busy. Writer's Block is my enemy yet it never leaves me like a friend.

I began to realize I am in love with Alice Liddell again.

I also found out who has been talking through my mouth. I may make a new blog just to talk about the one topic of "Randism." But if I did, I would have to talk about relgion and politics (which I am very good at). I just don't think I can. But I'll sum up "Randism." Randism is the opposite of communism, in a sense. It really isn't a government style. It is the belief in "objectiveism." Every man's conscious is his essence and every man has his own choice and duty to himself. It is the opposite of egoism, still. It is individualism. The owner of the title is Ayn Rand, who I've talked about before. Only a couple days ago did I watch a movie about her. She changed me like AFI and Billy Collins and The Book Thief did. She holds the essence of what my soul may look like. The problem is, she is dead. Another problem.

She already changed some of the world and now the world is too advanced for me to change. I might have cried when I thought that had I not been in the presence of people.

About "The Interview" in the last blog. I am interviewing a real person. I feel terribly awful about it, actually. I feel as though the Block is asking the questions for me, when I should already know the answer. The next interview is tomorrow, none the less. It really depends what time "he" arrives, though. It hasn't been planned. I'm just going to walk up and say something to instigate is corrupt thinking. He keeps asking for my URL. Do you think I should give it to him?

Look up Ayn Rand.

And that's all?