Followers

    Once, there was a man, born inside of a world made of steal and hate. He was bred on unusual social habits, mainstream entertainment and silently strict principles. Eventually, he pulled himself up, dusted himself off and moved on to form his own self. He found nice clothes, amazingly unique music, put on his fake, large glasses, started writing stories and applied bohemia to his life.

    Please, join on this trail of madness.

    About Me

    My photo
    I am a man, without a plan, hoping to find it.

Humanity.


I look, for what it is that I have found, may as well remain in the ground.
For what it is that I have found, will do nothing more than rupture the sound incasing the love from the hate that clouds the heads of us all, and like fuck would we want such safety such as that to ever see a fall.
So, let's find comfort in our own private reservations and our own deeply adjacent declamations, and rest forever, in our deep sea of contradiction and evil, making everything we produce from now on, in a positively progressive and selfless fashion, minimal and feeble.
So let us burn, burn, burn in our own hot, over-played food.
Forgetting that non of us are even of knowledge of a mood that defies such insecurity and misplaced conceited values.
And forever more, shall we say, here, now shall be the day that we cross off the possible affiliations with charity, and we will now sit together, in a forever, and will, for all time, consider ourself the representative of a brave new humanity.

Words.


His eyes were aglow with delight, contemplating everything his eyes came over. Eager fingers picked at every last sodding confectionary he could reach. 

"You'll have rotting teeth" chortled Mr. Wickerson. "Eating all those sweets"
Frederick looked up over his little nose at the big man "But they're so nice!" his eyes shone "why should something so delicious do so much harm to your teeth?"
"That's life, my dear boy" He ruffled the young man's hair, laughing, happily, as the face bellow it, sank, contemplating life and what his teacher meant by 'That' being 'Life'. 
As the old man made his way around the stalls, perusing their contents, sharing pleasant words and smiles with the ever so happy sellers, young Frederick thought what it was to have failings. He contemplated his teeth; what lovely sights they may be right now, in a year, two years, three, more years time than now, they could be mere wrecks of what once was.
"That's Life"
And with the sorrowful burdens he now bore, the young man ran at the lake at the end of the street, plunging into it and held onto the bottom of it with intent.

Twitterererer.


Followz.


x

A tiff.


I'm Big Boss.


Some people, egh?

Why is this loneliness I feel?


Why is this loneliness I feel?
Is this, in turn, my daily meal?
I've had nothing but strife from this fate.
Because, as it turns out, I, myself, clearly has no room for a mate.
A mate such as yee, can't find prosper in a man, a man, such as a man similar to me.
Time, upon time, falling on myself, and this grime, pulling upon these senses of mine, making it an impossibility to pull myself from thee and thy enticing smile.
I ache, at the mind of your face.
Please take your earthly pleasures, and correct them and add some feathers, so we may sore together, high, far, far above the blue, limitless sky.
Please, let this end not be fervently so.
For, I, and every vessel and its entirety of inhabitants do call forth, crave, forth fort for you to be as mine, as my beau.

Eliot Humphreys.

Christ-mas.


This Christmas wasn't as bad it should have been, on paper.


Yes, sure, the present level was minimal. I received many things that I could have done without and a fair few things that had a little thought behind. 
An electric razor, perhaps, off my Grandmother. 
Too much fucking chocolate.
Lacking in presents from all but two friends, one present of which, hasn't arrived yet.
A load of pointless stocking filler; some kind of manually punching frog on a pen; a really poorly made Newton Cradle (which is just annoyingly loud taps, really, and little else. Besides, i'm kind of up on Newton and his theories); etc.
The only reasonable presents were a nice jumper from Topman, a voucher (£10) for Topman, some books i'm quite excited to read (Animal Farm, a collection of Dylan Thomas poetry and Of Mice And Men), some shaving face cream (even though, I now have two electric shavers and some shaving cream. My god), a laptop case and an Andy Warhol 2009 calender, which has some really cool imagery.
The only main present I received was £100, placed in my account.

And we did get Guitar Hero: World Tour, but, family present.

It's getting to a point where, if I want something, I actually have to buy it myself, even around Christmas time.
I even have a Christmas list, but, no one ever asked, so, I never told.
I ordered Fleet Foxes' album, which arrived Christmas Eve, but, I shouldn't've had to.
Someone should have been buying me that.
It's very disheartening that even at Christmas, you can't let someone else take the costly bounty of buying things for you.
That's low.

I feel like i'm being forced into the same room as my father.
Vaguely 'useful' presents, rather than enjoyable ones.
I'm already a simple man.
I'm more than that, god damn it.
People keep saying 'Oh, I didn't know what to get you' 
Well, surely you could have asked.
Besides, i'm not that hard to buy for, really.
I'm quite sophisticated, fashionable and independent and creatively music savvy; surely, you could have taken a step into one of those categories and had a poke around, but no.
I could have done with a nice, woolen jumper, or a scarf, but, not even that.
Fucking electric razor...

But, despite all the 'Meh' gifts, i'm actually in a good mood, and i'm not sure why.
Is it the season?
Or am I just...getting better at not throwing a fit.
Who knows?
However, i'm adopting a theory.

I've noticed that our family is very anti-social, it would seem.
On the actual day, my mother, sister and self paid a visit to my aunt Sian's for festive greetings, and it was shocking to see how many presents people were giving each other; how much thought was clearly given; the effort and the love and just the happiness in giving.
I was, needless to say, quite jealous.
My presents, and family's presents to each other seemed to lack any certain...personality or thought. Everything was just so...throw away or 'kooky'.
Also, the only people I received presents off were my family, not even family friends.
Our longest, Marge, didn't even buy for us this year, which was odd.
I can't see why we're not even considered spendable anymore.
Have we been extradited?
It would seem so, and it's quite sad.

As for my presents for people, I would say they had thought.
I bought my mother the new KOL CD, which wasn't in my better judgement, but, she'd had her eye on it and was pleased, so, good.
I bought my twin sister two Paramore posters, which haven't arrived yet, but, I have ordered, but, I know she wants.
I bought my elder sister a Rayman: Raving Rabbits...rabbit figure. She was quite pleased.
I bought my friend Jon a Pokeball plush toy, with a Pokemon (I forget it's name; the devolution of Maril) inside it.
And i've bought my friend Lisa a coat, but, i've yet had chance to give it to her.
And I didn't buy my Dad anything. Sadly, he lacks a personality, so, it's hard to.

I actually thought about my presents.
I just wish others would too.
...Fucking razor. I already had one.

Eliot
x

A life; a time.


Another introduction, but, will there be a definitive end this time?

Who knows?
Fate alone.

New blog; a spiraling literary playground of gross self indulgence and over zealous opinions of one's own self-worth.
Should be a hoot, quite frankly.
Oh, look, no modesty; the cycle has already started.
I hope it amuses you.

Eliot. x