Make it stop. Please.
My 3Doodler arrived today and I was so stupidly excited the first thing I had to make was this.
I lost count of how many hours this took to make. The darn thing is so tricky to use! Well worth it though. I want to order more plastic colours and add to it! Make some angels, big rico’s pizza…
Also the moon glows in the dark.
I got in on the kickstarter for these, too, mine arrives in January.
I think I got the extended colour pack with the neons and stuff, so I might have to give some thought to planning a Desert Bluffs variant.
Or just draw angels. Long-limbed, empty-faced, burning-eyed, horrific angels.
YEEES. That would be amazing xD I am hoping to slowly add to it until I have the whole town. But it goes through the plastic sticks so quickly! And it’s very tricky to use. Ah well it’s worth it. I’m sure you’ll love it!
My creative writing professor told me to stop
writing about love. I asked him why and he said,
“Because you have turned it over and over in your hands,
felt every angle, every fault, every inch,
every bruise. You have ruined it for yourself.”
I spent the next 3 weeks writing about science
and space. Stars exploding.
Getting sucked into a black hole.
How much I wished I could sleep inside of that nothingness
without being annihilated. What an exploding star
would taste like. If it would make our stomachs glow
like fireflies, or tingle and shake like pop rocks
under our tongue.
My creative writing professor told me that those poems
weren’t what he was looking for.
He tells me to stop writing about outer space.
Stop writing about science.
Again, I ask him why. Again, he says,
“You have ruined it for yourself.”
I spend the next three weeks writing about my mother,
how we are told we can’t make homes inside
of other human beings, but the foreclosure sign
on my mother’s empty womb tells me that women
who give birth know a different,
more painful truth.
My creative writing professor tells me I am both talented
and hopeless, that everything I write is both visceral and empty,
a walking circus with no animals inside
but a beautiful trapeze artist with a broken hip
selling popcorn in the entrance-way.
He tells me to stop writing about my mother. I don’t ask why.
I pick up my books and my notepad
and I leave his office with my war stories
tucked under my tongue like an exploding star,
like the taste of the last person I ever loved,
like my mother’s baby thermometer, and I do not look back.
We are all writing about our mothers, our lovers,
the empty space that we will never be able to breathe in.
We are all carrying stones in our pockets
and tossing them back and forth in our hands,
trying to explain the heaviness
and we will never stop writing about love,
about black holes, about how quiet it must have been
inside the chaos of my mother’s belly,
inside the chaos of his arms,
inside the chaos of the spaces in every poem
I have ever written.
None of this is ruined.
Do not listen to them when they tell you that it is.
"and in the third were Legolas and Gimli, who had now become fast friends."
Abravokhan scout team. South Africa. Year: 1827
This scout team was sent for prep and maintenance of a star gate buried in what is present day Mdeni, in South Africa.
One thing the Abravokhan empire did not expect, was the technological advances that there siblings on Earth would accomplish.
On the cusp of time travel in the late 1960’s and actively time traveling by 2015, earth natives had went back to locate the star gate. Which was confiscated, disassembled and reverse engineered. Leading to technological break throughs that led to such technology as particle smashers. To this day the scout team remains on earth as a Reconnaissance and security outfit
For the 30+ Abravokhan spies scientists and delegates who have been operating on earth since the year 1734.