I can now call myself a self inflicted imploding nuclear weapon. There's mounds upon mounds of pressure that I'm putting on myself, and I seek help from the outside world. But I implode everyday, and in reality, everything around me is trapped. I'm trapped.

A chain reaction has been set off, one day after the other, I self implode. I can't help it, and I fear I never will be able to. Everything including me is dead, all content is in the dust now. And the only reason I imploded in the first place, is because someone pulled the switch...

Neutral

One day I'm negative, one day I'm positive. When I wake up and feel the growing rage under my skin, I realize that I'm never content with either side. Something's going to pop out, fission is to occur, and a massacre is going to rage through my life.

But is it a massacre on me, or my opponents. Every time I look in the mirror I see my opponent.

Today I was neutral, watching everything swirl and murder around me. All I can do is grin, but it's a complex thing. I can comprehend it. It's odd.

Being neutral, means I'm finally content.

Speed

My anticipations always, always kill me. I find myself hardly ever having patience. Never, ever, ever. Speed is an amazing attribute, but I need to know how to use it right. Of course this excludes somethings, like school. Despite that, other things I can't wait for. Somehow, I need to be fast at everything. Fast at everything, except realizing that all I really need is some patience...

All You Know

All these people. All of those opinions. All of those black, tar, splintering bullets.

Once they shoot, they're opinions come straight at your heart, or your eye, or your leg. You don't know they're real name, or where they're from or what they wanted to do when they grow up. You don't know if they're innocent or have succumbed to powerful gods. All you know, is that that person was trained to kill. One specific person. You.

All you know, is that bullet coming towards your face.

You don't know guilt, or repulsion, or anything personal of the enemy. All you know, is the bullet.

All you'll know...

Life. War. Death.

Prior to this I would of thought that I was to be torn between two worlds. Not anymore.

I don't know what to do, quite simply. I want to read, or play video games. Each one brings a need of the other.

I'll find myself shooting Nazi Zombies and wanting to read an adventure, and I find myself reading an adventure and wanting Nazi Zombies! I have to indulge myself, but somehow I'm never content with what I'm doing! Like this write now.

I know this writing is much different from what I usually write. I know, I know. It's crap.

Just... Indulge me.

$

Money blinds everyone, either way or the other.


Even when money's stacked short, ahem, like in my situation, it still blinds...

When it's stacked tall, it blinds...


Whoa. Who knew it was dark in this place?

Atoms

Niels Bohr introduced the latest model of the atom. According to his theory, the nucleus is made up of a certain amount of positively charged protons, and a certain amount of neutrally charged neutrons. Negatively charged electrons orbit the nucleus in their respected electron shells so with such intense speed that they're invisible.

Humans are made out of atoms.

Practically everything is made out of atoms.

I may be made out of atoms, but I don't resemble one. Before today I would of thought that negative things in fact did surround me. But I was wrong. My nucleus is indeed switched, as the protons and electrons are combined to make my nucleus, as it pumps to keep me a live and sane. Meanwhile, neutrons circle me as opinions crash, causing them to be neutral.

All I'm saying, is this...


If Niels Bohr was my therapist, he'd be wrong, and I'd be wrong.

Laws

All around there are laws. People break them and they get punished. There are governmental laws, and laws that you put on yourself so to keep your body or mind in line. Laws need sacrifice, and I haven't sacrificed.

Normally when an ancient society sacrificed something, it was for the greater good of the tribe or nation. Nothing now a days is going for the greater good of me.

I used to set laws on myself. I've broken them.

I need those laws back. Because if I don't have them back and enforced, I'm going to flip with agony.

Those who go against the law will suffer. I am most definitely suffering now.

I reverb and rebound off of myself like shrapnel.

the concrete comes closer.

the legs of my body, the things always holding me up, unconfused, they crumble.

My eyes watch as my head falls down...

I seem to have lost my head.







Can anyone help me find it?

Eclipse

I have un-natural eclipses of the mind and soul. Eclipsed from life, from love, and from music.


At this moment, my world has no light.

Sacrifice

I see them both, on the street, every day. The petit son, with flowing hair in the shape of a sphere, and the dad who mimmicks his looks, but carries with him a pair of crutches. I see them everyday, and I think about them every day.

The boy's probably around the age of six ripe years. They walk down the boulevard, whilst in the midst of things, the father's struggling and in pain as he walks. Despite that, walking his son to school isn't a chore, it's his duty and what he loves he must protect.

I have an honest question. Does this little boy know that his dad's a hero? I see them everyday, and from what I see I know he's one.

I've seen these people for two years.

In twelve ripe years, that deserving boy will know and understand what I know about his father.

Toy

In graffiti, both black book and on the streets, there are toys, and there are the experienced few...

A toy is someone who doesn't know what they're doing, they don't know what they want to do with their art.

I don't know if I want my life to be dark or light, fluent or jagged. I don't know what I want to do with it...




I'm just a toy.

Soeur

I hear it,
feel it,
it's icy,
complex,
web-like
pain in my brain,
and my heart...

confounding,
is my affinity,
to inflicting verbal grenados at her

despite that I feel pain as well....
all I feel is pain,
and confusion

I know I have to stop,

but it seems impossible...

Tears

Tears strangle my cheeks.

My freckles wail,
while the sour,
pungent,
disease ridden tears,
drug me to death...

I can't,
just isn't possible,
for me to get away from it,
my anger,
my sorrow,
my confusion...

the tears speak,
but they speak water-colored dialects,
why...

what's to cry about,
love...

love surrounds,
confounds...
and kills...

me,
but I still love,
tears can be allies...

Pere

I call, or speak everyday with him. He guides me, but he never asks for help. Why?

I called him. To tell him how my day was, he was still in the city...

I spoke to him, and I hear cars wailing. It's seven, you've been there for twelve hours, I think...

He says he needs to go home and have dinner.

By himself.

By.

Himself.

Why?

Cold

Cold in a mental state, cold in a physical sense. Snow numbs my fingers, so the flesh scoured the snow as the snow ripped the flesh. In a matter of a half a second, snow again rebounds and burns flesh. Snow's white, like paper... A message was written on that snowball.

Whizzing towards someone's head, a quarter of a second screams at me. That was cold, dude. That's just cold... Regret.

Whizzing towards someone's head, an eighth of a second screams at me. Your an ass. You don't deserve love, you don't deserve warmth... Resentment.

Whizzing towards someone's head, a sixteenth of a second screams at me. Take it back, say sorry. They don't deserve it, you ass... Riot.

Water etched regret, resentment, and riot into my thick skull. Cold water, freezing water scourns my flesh...


I got what I deserved.

Life's cold, man.. Life's cold.

FUN

To much fun, excitement, and Chinese food. I want a dumpring. Yeah.

Sorry

Ignorance

Main Entry: ig·no·rance

Pronunciation: \ˈig-n(ə-)rən(t)s\

Function: noun

Date: 13th century

: the state or fact of being ignorant : lack of knowledge, education, or awareness

It surrounds me. I'm forced to succumb to it, or it'll tear my heart wide. Coming from everyone, everything some way or another strictly prohibits me from beaming accusations. Hearing it, seeing it, feeling it, knowing it. That's part of life I guess.

My sister mostly, or any other sibling for that matter. Ignorance is carved into her forehead. As it is into mine.

Ew, your so stupid! Your stupid stupidy stupendessly stupid!

She doesn't fight back, because inside she loves me.

Ignorance.

She doesn't fight back. Doesn't deserve...

Ignorance.

No one can escape it's thoroughly worn net. My forehead burns while the skin twists and turns, a vacuum that slays all thoughts. One thought remains, I'm the ignorant one. The only thing that should be carved on my sister's head is love.

That's ignorance.

Vim

Earlier today, Vim screamed to emerge...

Competition boils within my body, and my friends. That's how our friendship works... But that's the whole goal for it, competition. Competition to better, to face, to destroy the opposing ally... But the aggression swelled in my head. As it also did in theirs...

Anger rose, but I couldn't turn it into something better... I thought to myself, Vim, Vim, Vim.
Vim came after the competition, but Vim still lives...

Sith

Peace is a lie; there is only passion.

Through passion, I gain strength.

Through strength, I gain power.

Through power, I gain victory.

Through victory, my chains are broken.

-The Code of the Sith

There's logic in this, as well as it's connection to my goals. Lately I've been steamed, but it's casual. Lower and lower I go into a wreckage of mutilated words and scraped illustrations. Right now, school's neither my assailant or my ally. Today, not a song was stuck in my head, but this code.

There are no white flags to be waved, only the marauding wail of a Sith's lightsaber at the whimsy body of the school. Not only the school, but everything I do, such as "cromequaz" and the newspaper. All I can sense, is that aggression is key.

To me, this is gonna help...

Think by the code...
Breath by the code...
Live by the code...

Peace wasn't really there, there's always some how corruption some place or another. It seems nice to think that passion will grab it's place. Who said you can't be passionately striving for mental and physical peace? But to strive I need aggression. An aggression to grasp those goals in my hands...

Think by the code...
Breath by the code...
Live by the code...

You could also call me Darth Vim...

;)

Chocolate Mirrors

Gluttony. Is there a good side to it? Not really, because I feel the effects. Chocolate, mirrored chocolate from the ninth circle of a magical elf tree is flowing boldly around my body. And I look over to see my sister and she sees no remorse, remorse is for the dead.

But if remorse is for the dead, than why is my stomach mutilated? Remorse, pain, gluttony. The mirrored colors scream happiness, chocolate, and more happiness. All along, I've looked in mirrors and been disgusted or excited.

Maybe mirrors are only good for one thing only...

Chocolate.

~Fluffy Vaccine~

I spent most of my mid-winter vacation inside, mentally and physically. Day after day was spent with my eyes lurking a flickering, hopeless screen. I lounged lazily in a sapphire, and coarse chair. My thumbs aimlessly twiddled with a rusted joy stick. The TV screen wailed failure at every mash of a button.

That's the inside.

Once I stepped out of my bulging SUV, I perished in the boasting sun. My body, and my mind. What I'd missed, oh boy! My brain is blanched by reminders and pestering quotes. "Yah should of gone out! Look what you've missed! Look e here lad! Yer missed a bucket o' fun!"

Sometimes I can be a dark person, and sometimes I'm fluffy and stupid. Don't blame me, I just am. Just like fluffy people can get really dark, I can get really fluffy. Despite that, I think that maybe if I go outside more, the outer rim of what my normal world is will be given a vaccine. All of the other personalities staring down at me, molding me to be fluffy.

The dark can scare anyone. In fact, the outside has been such a good vaccine, that I proved it scientifically.

;)

Mr. Woody

Prior to me going into a flimsy rant of confusion and choleric insults towards a chunky TV, Tiger Woods released these words from his mouth.

"Please leave my wife and kids alone."

Well, Tiger, look who's talking! I'm not one for personal relationships and affairs, but you put yourself in that big dark hole. I'm amazed that he hasn't realized that not many things can fix what he did to his wife and children. Even I slept with Tiger for Pete's sake! ( Just kiddin!) To me, Tiger's attempt to make himself look noble was a pitiful vomit of stressed apologies. Sad to say, he's probably not going to recover, especially with that released footage of him wailing his throat out at nine year old kids who wanted to take a picture of him.


Sad, just sad.

Quote O' Creative

"Just keep on letting the music flow. Anything creative in your life has ebbs and flows. I have gone for one or two years without ANY painting and then somehow when I start again, the painting is deeper and richer .....your creative atoms need to REST sometimes...also there are cycles of IMPUT which can be very passive and meditative when you receive information....and then there are cycles of OUTPUT.....every artist experiences this....also you find the same rhythms and patterns with your writing. There is a time for meditation and receptiveness and a time for creative output.
Just let it FLOW...."

-Nina Von Eckart, 1940-

Enough said.

Help?

I need help. To help myself though, not from others because there's a load of contradictions between one and another.

You see, I've seperated myself from my music. My music was my music to feed my soul, my mind. Something about life came and tore it away...

The music binds with web after web of complications, but I can't feel the effect. It's there, but hidden behind what seems to be a fog. There's a fog from what I used to be, there what I am at the moment. It's difficult for me not to argue with myself, I'm trying to feed for my greater good but I'm in a muzzle.

Back and forth goes the un-sanded anchor into my soul. In and out. I need to help myself. I need to keep the anchor in, for my happyness! The quality of life hasn't lived up to it's pre-molded expectations. It's funny how music will mold life, but life will mold music as well.

So far my life has molded the music I hear. From a point on in 2009, the music molded me.

I guess I'm an unfinished project, but isn't everyone? Helping myself isn't the case, it's molding myself that's been the problem.

"Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief" An Olympian Fail- Kind of A Spoiler-

As a fan of the popular "Percy Jackson and the Olympians" book series, I was prompted to see the movie. I went today, and walked out disgusted. The plot was all wrong, the character reference was sketchy, and it pushed the borderlines of what the book really was. Honestly, Rick Riordan should be furious with Christopher Columbus.

First of all, the plot in this feature was all mixed up. First of all, there were no "Persephone's Pearls" in the book, yet most of the movie's adventure was to obtain them. Second of all, Ares had no role in the movie at all. Sadly, the climax fight scene was Percy vs Luke in the Big Apple, not Percy vs Ares all the way in LA. Ares was supposed to be a huge character, seeing that he was the one who tricked Percy, Annabeth, and Grover by putting Zeus's bolt in the backpack. Another huge aspect is the fact that Percy had no control of his water bending powers in the book, but was able to do amazing things with the water in the movie. Him carrying those powers in his pocket altered the course of the fight scenes, and making them almost artificial. These things are scary, so to say that the title's the only thing that the movie and book have in common.

"The Lightning Thief" had some travesties when it came to characters. Obviously the age of the character's comes up. The book says that Annabeth and Percy are twelve, and in the movie they're about fifteen to seventeen. Some other things come along concerning appearance. Annabeth has brown hair in the movie yet she has blond hair in the book. The Olympians are naturally fifteen feet tall in the book, but forty feet tall in the movie. As well as appearance is the question if the character's even in the movie. Ares wasn't there, Dionysus wasn't, Clarisse wasn't even there! The lack of character similarities partially takes away from the mood and tone, something I don't like.

Something was pushed in this movie, something important. The whole prospect was pushed! There was a massive sexual innuendo in the movie. Persephone commented on Grover, to whom she'd been flirting with. *"I've never had satyr before... in my home"* she said. Mixed with her wearing a tight dress and Grover staying in the underworld while Hades was out cold, you could tell what was happening. Also, while the group stayed in the Lotus Hotel, they gambled, practically ate shrooms (Lotus Flowers- a kind of desert plated and served to party-goers), Grover got jiggy with some models, and danced to Lady Gaga and Ke$ha. So was this really a part of the book being altered, or a huge advertisement? I say a huge advertisement, seeing that this was a movie that was supposed to be based on demigods... At some times it seemed like the book wasn't important, which is sad.

Honestly, I'd recommend this movie so that you could see the differences for your self. But in reality, this thing's not breaking any records. I'd give it a 3/5 stars. Sorry to be harsh, but all in all, it's a mediocre excuse for a movie.


*Quote is altered, section after "..." is guessed, but you get the picture.*

Lagging days. They come, scream and wail, and then go on to annoy others. To me, all days lag in some way. Sorry to be negative, but really.

Right now I'm on break. But a break from what? It still lags. Makes my eyes lag, my brain, my senses. All together they form a lagging sack of pure TIRED

New goals. They come, whine and beg, and then go on to pester other people. To me, all goals are made to be executed, or flunked. Sorry to be frank, but really.

Right now I'm on break, supposedly from goals. But on a break from what? With out goals, I'm screwed. But with goals, I pound myself and pound and sack my self. All together forming either a chunk of accomplishment, or a melted taffee of sad.


My new goal; goals.

head tremors,
need hope...

no skill,
never,
again comes the not,
the no,

comes the yes,
yes,
why not,


can't do it,
won't,
couldn't

fading...

Surviving and living are two different things. I don't want to survive, I want to live. Earlier this day, I thought about my life. I thought about the ups, the downs, and money. Money can lead to greed, just look at me. Money get's so stacked that it blocks me from the things I'm really, honestly, passionate about.

If I were a dentist, I would survive. Doing what I'm doing now is to live.

Life is universal.

Opinions are universal.

I'm making life my opinion.

Make yours an opinion.

I wish I was a symbol,
I wish that I was something more than I really am,
it seems like it's never gonna happen,
never,

I wish I was something more than school,
me,
I wish I was something more than I physically am,
never,
never,

never a symbol

I've reached a self epidemic. Greed's possessing me, but greed to me or for them? I'm beginning to self destruct. My colorful goals go gray. They stray from my path, I'm lost. Regarding myself only produces ugly thoughts. Regret piles up in front of me, I can't see my way forward. The concrete road rips at me while I look back; it's the only thing to do.
Questions rise; do I really want to? With the questions comes more regret, not I'm surrounded by a dome of it. All of this occurs in a matter of six seconds or less. Why try? Why not? Why start? Why not? Why finish? Why not?

Creative Constraint

Creative Constraint

noun-
1. A constraint that forces a writer to stray away from curse words, based on the fact that anyone can curse and the inevitable weakening of the writing.

I pondered on the past two posts, and realized that the curses molded the piece into a naturally ugly thing. My apologies to you, the reader, and to my writing, the thing that suffered the most. Speaking with an overseer, who shares the same passion for writing as I do (though he inspired me, and my passion can never be as tenacious as his is) forced me to come to the verdict that even while cussing projects a heavy dose of emotion, it should be used with care. Thinking of those words makes me think of saffron; if you use too much of it, your dish will become decimated from the inside out. Much as the writing will. Read the past post and you'll see how harsh and animal it became.

As an afterthought, I think it'll be nice to salute Steinbeck, Salinger, and my dear father; the men who inspired me to curse in my art, and in life, but also professed the learning of the core of writing; the heart of it, before you get to a stage where you can let it rip.

Rules- A Memoir

The serene sound of safety illuminated through my open window. I stepped out of my bulky, pitch black SUV and was devoured by sunlight. Keys jingled openly in the palm of my hand, dancing to the sun.

"Ah!" I yelped. My ripe hand jerked from the door handle. A throbbing patch of skin was wailing up at me from point blank. Damn the world, why do you have to take so much sunlight! The sun was too much to bare, off to safety. My shoes paddled the gravel, I made my way up the opaque staircase. Halted at the worn out front door, I carelessly kicked it from it's base. It swung open to reveal a partially agape interior door. The pale, finely mastered curtain didn't do any harm, as there was nothing threatening to see beyond the glass door.

All was intact; the rich, brown rails were lustrous and the stairway made it's usual crack and creek. I finally made it to my door. The green monkey key slip fumbled in my hand, but I managed to keep it in the hole. . . No click of the lock... A taste of discontent mounted itself in my tongue, as if it had all day. Deliberately, the door opened to reveal a splinter of wood, laying deceased on the floor. Damn the world, damn it to hell! I knew how it had went down.

"Where ever you are, who ever the hell you are, get the f**k out of my house!" I boomed with the bull horn that sat atop my tongue. I scoped my home. The results crashed upon me. TV, compromised. Laptop, compromised. Jewelry, compromised. Not a trace left. From under my family's nose came burgalers, not knowing what to look for, but knowing the price they'd pay. It was a price they'd never. They knew what's others is theirs if they take it; they knew how the world worked. Apparently, the door and the laptop and the TV and the dear jewelry didn't. They were never told, I'd fancy if they did!

My body stood still in the hallway, my shirt stained to a darker purple with tears. They took my laptop. They took my laptop. They took my laptop. They took my pictures, my pictures, my pictures. They took my beautiful pictures! Five thousand pictures, burnt to the ground! A sudden jult of realization came to me. They'd taken my music, my music! The dear thing that I loved the most, the dear thing I listened to everyday! They took my music, my art, my life! I weeped, but stayed up in the air, my arm posed to the wall, holding me up. God damn it! Damn it all! Why! Why? We hadn't protected it! It's my fault... A voice in my head screamed at, me. TELL SOMEONE!
***
Crusade after crusade of thumping and thwarting exploded trough my ear drums as I galloped down the staircase. "Bruce!" I pleaded to the man with white whiskers, and a dented face of wisdom.

"Yes?" A profound voice echoed in the death like silence. I had to tell someone, he seemed as he could help. My voice shattered my frightened lips, but I dry crack of words came out.

"M-m-my," No! He regarded me with confusion in his face. Through the thick glasses he saw the angst in my eyes. "My house! Someone's broken in, they took my things! My moms things! Please!" The thick glasses couldn't hold back the size of his eyes, they grew large.

"What!?" He thwaped the air with a bellow. "But how could this of happened? I mean, I didn't hear anything! Where you home?"

"No! No, I just got here! My mom's not here, but someone broke in and took all of our stuff!" This time the railing didn't shake, I was still as colorful thoughts of slaying them entered my mind. A bounce in my shoes carried me up the stairwell as Bruce followed, hastily yet still slowly, behind.

Light pounced onto the splintered wood, Bruce looked in awe. "Go get your father, I'll tell everyone else."

Time sped up, it ripped me apart. The world; the timing. Maybe a minute had passed between the time I discovered the truth. Once again the glass door swung open again. I was back at my black SUV. I perched my burnt hand on the door.

"The house, someone broke in! My laptop's gone and everything!" My breath heavy, I whined.

"God damn it! What the hell?" His words portrayed the world itself. It projected the world and it's laws of life. That's just the world I'm living in; a world where no one's warned. We weren't even warned that life had rules, we'd broken the rules.

Walt Disney Company Purchases Marvel, What The F...?

I'm not an addict, but Marvel comics is still pretty kicks ass. Iron Man? Spiderman? Captain America? More like Iron Mickey, Salinaman, and Captain Corey In The House. Okay, so there's some evidential dents in the claim that Disney is completely, utterly the worst thing to happen to mankind. For one, Disney Pixar is to me, the ace of Disney. Ratatoullie, Toy Story, and Walle were amazing, and my eyes googled when I saw a rat creating a cream soup in "Gusteaus". But other than that, what more is there than bad acting, sore and ridiculous music, and the main goal of money?

Gusteau had spread the hope with his main belief; "Anyone can cook". Yes, I believe that, I can cook, my mom can cook, a caveman could cook. But Remy really stuck it out. It's Remy's belief that "Anyone can cook, but that doesn't mean anyone should!". Again, he's right! That directly applies to the Disney Channel, because they have already spread bad music, horrific movies, and now they're heading Marvel and are probably going to turn it into another garbage pile. Good job Disney, great job. Clap your hands everyone, your first edition Spiderman comics are now worth horse-shit because some rich guys who think they can change the world by spending four billion dollars on a great comic company RIGHT AS DISNEY WAS ABOUT TO GO TO THE DUMPS! Most people agree with the notion that Disney Channel is going to hell. Yes, I'm talking to you Miley, and you too, Jonass Bothers. Kids are being brainwashed by the Disney Channel becuase it's appealing to them as toddlers, and they naturally grow up to love Hannah Montana becuase it just happens, and they become extremely closed minded in the case of most things due to the fact that there's nothing to watch because it just completely brainwashes them! My appologies, my logic's off due to my intense rage!

My hopes are high that you agree with me. Just look at what the world's being run by; MTV and the Disney Channel. I wonder what Obama was specifying when he said that change was for the best. Oh, I know! No more Disney Channel!

Bear the Corneyness!

Piles of things to create, to write about. Despite that, a blank space is abiding to be replenished up in my head. Honestly, I'm fatigued in the head enough to prompt the of ending of brilliant ideas.

Tonight I'll sleep on the floor, maybe there's something more to look up to in the dark... As a symbol and a realistic thesis, this claims that I have the ability to speak the ideas of a martyr, ready and excited about his resolutions. Something to look up to in the dark, but I catch myself sprinting forward, but sprinting to a deadline that was yet to be found.

No, seriously, I have to move downstairs. I could use that to project the way I feel about various things. Sometimes I love, sometimes I like, and sometimes I loath. Most likely, moving downstairs will mold the way I look at my profits into that of a grateful person. At most times, an undertaker is more grateful than I am.

Most people know me to go as low as low will go if low went lower than low. They know me as well by how I go higher than high if high went even higher than high. Of course I'm moving downstairs, it's the common house change. My legislative branch is used to switches from republican to democrat, and back and back again. Does that remind you of yourself?

My executive branch is getting off of it's ass this year, in my hopes, and probably will have to push me. If not, there's going to be a dent in the couch by the end of the year.

Honestly, I'm out of juice, and my judicial branch votes I part.

Live long and prosper.

Iron chefs. Pure, solid inspiration. Speed! Power! Flavor! Yes!
Nothing much to say, but today I was sprawled on the couch, letting the energy slowly run from my fingertips. Yes, you can call me a pussy. Psh, moving downstairs? I haven't tried that in a billion years! I'm dead ass tired, so don't blame me if my writing SUCKS...
It makes me so sullen to realize that my writing is disgusting now. I solemnly swear that tomorrow, my creations will be as polished as their ancestors used to be!