amy you know, I really took the Neverending Story to heart when I was a kid (before teenagedom) I believe in it. It scares the crap out of me, but I believe in it.

here, you neon people. you people in historical moments. we're not full-of-ourselves Baby Boomers *or* totally depressed and bitter Gen Xers (well, i might be a Gen Xer, but some of *You* aren't). i'm listening to you.

GO read the Neverending Story or something productive like that. BYE.

"Who can give the Childlike Empress
The new name that will make her well?
Not you, not I, no elf, no djinn,
Can save us from the evil spell.
For we are figures in a book -
We do what we were invented for,
But we can fashion nothing new
And cannot change from what we are.
But there's a realm outside Fantastica,
The Outer World is its name,
The people who live there are rich indeed
And not at all the same.
Born of the Word, the children of man,
Or humans, as they're sometimes called,
Have had the gift of giving names
Ever since our worlds began,
In every age it's they who gave
The Childlike Empress life,
For wondrous new names have the power to save.
But now for many and many a day,
No human has visited Fantastica,
For they no longer know the way.
They have forgotten how real we are,
They don't believe in us anymore.
Oh, if only one child of man would come,
Oh, then at last the thing would be done.
If only one would hear our plea.
For them it is near, but for us too far,
Never can we go out to them,
For theirs is the world of reality.
But tell me, my hero, you so young,
Will you remember what I have sung?"

as for me, i've just been saying the same thing over and over again and not really doing anything about it. so there. i'm singing, "bye bye bye"
splinken i always thought that the "giving the Childlike Empress a new name" stuff was a throwback to old-school Modernism--that whole "building our own truths out of the fragments we've been given" sort of thing.

good book. yes.
amy i don't know if i disagree, but i think it's a Christian resurrection sort of thing. the Nothing has totally taken over, the whole thing is dead. the renaming creates it again. 001202
splinken that makes me think of The Waste Land--that stuff T.S. Eliot was saying about how culture (in his time--maybe in ours too) is dead, dead, dead, and its up to people to read and learn and educate themselves in order to make things okay again. plus the Golden Bough and hero sacrifice and all that. eliot's own personal truth solution was christianity, i think.

i didn't realize until tonight that the neverending story is in supersophisticated territory. neato.
babybat it's the same cycle over and over.
sometimes i'm worthy, but most times i'm not.
there's always someone better, more interesting.

it's snowing.
i'm constantly reminded of the fact that i have to live this life. i didn't think i acted the way that most do when they recieve those comments, but i guess i was wrong.
i've just been trying to cover it up, hide it from myself.
it's there.
it always will be.

my eyes are so dry. they hurt. i hate allergies.
i didn't think i asked for a lot. throw away everything i have. i don't care. the things i really want, the things that every person longs for...i can't have.
i'm too ordinary. i don't catch attention. i try not to.
that makes me not good enough, not fun enough.
i try too hard but at the same time i'm not trying at all.
i can't speak my mind.
i can't tell anyone when they're hurting me.
i let them walk all over me...
birdmad the moebius

looping back on itself over and over again

over and over again
over and over again over and over again over and over again over and over again
over and over again

if i go back to square one is it really square one or is the starting point to any of these things as interchangeable as it really seems?
Webley it's not real it's only a story, do what you dream 020825
Mistress Q
Cinamon flavoured air
a peppermint scented world
Memories of a happier time
The lingering sound of angel's with scabbed wings**
Little anarchisticly distorted pieces of your soul
The way things used to be.

And the butterflies
they were everywhere
How I long for those butterflies!

And the rose petals
they were everywhere
How I long for those sweet smelling rose petals!

And it's endless, and it's nameless
Unlike anything you've felt before
But we're stupid and we're jaded
all we know is we want more

But now it's all gone away
I roam, I wander... gone astray
The sound of your voice lingers in my mind
I still feel your ghostly fingers around mind

And in my mind, you're everywhere
And in my mind, you're everyone
And in my mind, you'll never die
... and in my mind

Ever present
Always there
Ever welcome
Never fear
Ever safely locked away
The secrets that you gave to me

... you're in my mind
shutter-bug my neverending story

Don’t break down.
Gives a since of hope,
hope that makes me enthralled,
enthralled with joy.
Hope and joy hope and joy.
Fighting darkness
is different in it's own way
from fighting evil
I personally believe
evil is mush less frightening,
much less threatening,
and much less real
than the haunting of darkness.
darkness is my nothing eating my world.
I will crusade against it,
and just in case,
I will give a name to every object,
weather it be person place or thing.
delial "Bastian!
Why don't you do what you dream, Bastian?
Call my name!
Bastian, please!
Save us."
Rachel Neverending
Your empty promises still rescinding
Should I laugh?
Nay, I die
And yet, I come back to you...
It is a process
hsg l as t i'me an interesthing happened as i was watching the neverending_story:
i was Bastian Balthazar Bux.

Atreyu was soft_and_fuzzy, and Fantastica was self_explanatory.
hsg oops. i meant the big fuzzy flying dog! 081210
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