There is so much to do, and yet I choose to do nothing. It pains me not to work, and yet I leave it be. Days are fallen leaves, and autumn's clutches firm. Auburn crumbles through my fingers, the dust of time's allure.
Yet staring down will only fill the mind with a carpet of tree's veil, but looking up gives me a chance, to catch one by the tail.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

What is a sandwhich other than a vessel? A fluffy, spongy coating sealing an amalgamation of meat and fillings within, squishy materials who on their own is lesser than the sum of their parts. There are no two sandwhiches laying equal, only those alike, and there is infinite potential for how it can be arranged and enjoyed. All sandwiches are not to the taste of every eater, yet who can say a sandwich is inherently poor or tasteless? It is true we tend to group those alike into a group, by

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Time stretches on, with you in tow or not. It asks not to keep up pace, merely to stay on the path. Each a step, after another.
But what if, there really was something beyond?
Beyond the veil of the route that engraves existence, beyond our grasp of life?
Is that a place we can walk to, or do we simply fall over the edge?

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Wash your hands for 30 seconds.

How easy our mind shifts from one to the next, even what we appreciate makes up not but a fraction of all that goes on within us, connections crafted and paths forged, walkways ready for us to tread them, and yet we can only strive so far away from the main road.
Are the additional thoughts wasted effort? Or what makes us living?

Happy Filthy Friday~.

How much longer will it take to complete this task?
How often do I think about that? How often is the question not, what am I doing? Why am I doing it? But: When am I done?
Yet, sometimes, for very few tasks, this melts away. Everything revolves around the what, how, and why. And in those rare moments, if the question of when comes up... the answer is the same: There is no after, there is only this.

Happy Filthy Friday~, and Happy Darkest night.

Treading towards the end, watching the cobble of the path fall apart, but the rocks staple together beneath my feet, each step progressing as if nothing happened, as if everything was right. But then, before the fall, new pathways converge, cobble clatter together, and before I have a chance to look down, the path is the same as it ever was.
And so it will be, until that fateful day.

Happy new Year~.

At times, there is a certain relief in letting go. I get used to burdens as they accumulate, as their compile and insinuate their presence in my life. Despite the loss and pain of letting them go, despite the agony of what I fear life would be without it, there is a wonderful sensation in being able to take deep, long, breaths.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

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I look upon the fruit's grandeur: its shell vibrant with a scintilla sheen of its hues. Within housing pods of nourishing, supple syrup. Each pod holds a seed, the intended recipient of the fruit's benefits. Were it not for the seed, there would be no fruit, were it not for the seed, there would be no plant. And yet here I stand, holding the fruit, claimed for my own. What right do I have to it? Other than that which I attributed to myself.
And yet, I am playing right into the tree's trap.

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What is it like to come to terms with one's conception? That brief moment where void and existence married, the instant our lives began. What was before? A question often left by the wayside, and yet as relevant as what happens afterwards. Most conclusions draw back to the moment, where we are simply happy to be.
I am happy to be, and I will be happy to have been, for that brief instance in my future.

Happy All Flanks Day~.

Perception and interpretation: Key to the establishment of connection, between living beings, and said beings to their surrounding. Two creatures holds different perspectives, yet if they share the same interpretation, they can communicate and relate to one another. Perception is grown from birth, the moment we gain an understanding of the world around us. Interpretation is taught, and lays as the foundation for our communication and triumph.

Happy new decennium~.

My oh my this shall be a very interesting blog post. In fact I might add it may be just the way I see Past Sins now, compared to how I saw it back then. So to those of you who either despise, love, or somewhere in the middle with Nyx, do not worry. This isn't necessarily a rant that is meant to attack Pen Stroke or his story. It's just my own opinion towards one of the famous stories that FimFiction has to offer. So in regards this can be

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I’ve got two chapters of A Thief’s Tale written. They’ll need to be edited and proofread, but I do that the day before posting the chapter, so that’s some words right there. In any case, Chapter Forty is finished and I’m debating on what to do next. I was thinking of doing a short story because I have a decent backlog now and that creative spark for the main story is waning a bit. I’ll take succinct suggestions for short stories, but the main thing I want to know is if I should make

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The title says it all. Instead of being posted on every Monday, A Thief's Tale will be updated on every other Monday. Basically, the 31st of July will get the usual update, but the next one won't be until August 14th.

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After going multiple days without sleeping or eating, I finished up chapter 28 and am now editing it. The only thing that's wrong with it is that there are entire paragraphs of complete nonsense. I don't remember writing them, and I don't know what they were even supposed to be about, they're just jumbled up words that have little meaning.

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A Thief's Tale: The Road to Redemption is the 87th longest story.

Can you quack, mother f*cker?

Slap happy af. So hype. I'm so very hype, like you can't even comprehend.

One year ago today, I was unemployed, down on my luck, and was still depressed while trying to get my medication straightened out and some of my behavioral quirks in check. However, I just so happened to be desperate enough to turn to that cartoon for little girls that I used to watch when I was just starting high school since it used to make me smile when I needed it most, regardless of how retarded I thought I was for actually enjoying a kids show. I got through a few episodes and decided to

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Dear fans and casual readers of A Thief's Tale: Road To Redemption, I, as of like, two minutes ago, have five months worth of chapters in my backlog, and the next chapter isn't even slated to be posted until I have my long weekend off, which means that I'll most likely be adding another chapter to said backlog. Ride the hype train.

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Recently my laptop crashed. It crashed hard af and I had to factory reset it.

Guess who used Notepad for everything.

My salt levels are so high that I'm pissing salt, and it burns coming out. I'm about to make a fortune selling my white rain as coke to middle schoolers. Fucking salt levels so potent they'd die of dehydration after one rail. My cock salt is fentanyl-level deadly, Goddammit!

ARGHHH

UUGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKK

I don't know how long this bout of minor block is going to last, but it's been going on since I got Light Sprint's Little Problem published. It's killed my momentum with A Thief's Tale so I'm going to extend my usual release schedule from every four days to a week to help me maintain a decent release schedule. It'll slow down further once I get a job, but as it is right now, I'm just not feeling it as much as I once was. There are still events and things that I have planned and I

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Results are often the boring part of an endeavor: they signify an end. The culmination of work, time, effort, and planning. Yet, once you arrive at the results it is over. What do you do next? Listen to the world provide you feedback? What for? So you can begin your next journey towards a result.
Another Journey.
Another Wait.
Another one.

Happy Filthy Friday~.