Has looked bad whole life, just avoids having pictures taken now.
Take her out to dinner.
A little excitement is always good for the spirit. Tests you and helps you grow or something. Have you anything specific to discuss or should I...
On my end of the sky things have been slightly more tempestuous and tumultuous than what I'd become accustomed to. Being that as it may, I'm doing...
Implying the discussion of cultural contexts and commercial ramifications of the consumer society don't matter.
Güten morgen, 友達 mio. Been a while hasn't it?
Honor isn't something someone else can defend for you. Honor is about how you conduct yourself and how you live. Do you live as an upright, honest, honorable person worthy or trust and respect or not? That's all there really is to it. Fighting over the concept of 'honor' is silly and has always been an issue for people who don't have a firm grasp of the concept to begin with. Live well and no one can take that away from you whatever is said or done. No use in dying like an idiot over something without purpose.
Take a step forward.
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Please recommend this message
To me you'll always be the baddest of the bad and the best I've ever had.
I thought that might be the case but as I've never seen it, I figured I'd error on the side of knowledge and error I did. I apologize for that. Either way if that's how things are I'll have to reevaluate this a little. Now there are no technical flaws anywhere in this. Everything is intentional this way and the only flaws or problems people could find here lie in your diction and style which I personally don't have any problems with. It's a real shame that you don't feel as though this was your representative average but I suppose that if you draw your art from your emotions it's not like you can force it. So, that's my little alteration and if you have my support in your future endeavors, whatever you choose them to be.
The lead in was a tad abrupt and possibly awkward, like many if not most three panel comics I've dealt with, but the punchline was clever and amusing enough to do the job. Your art is also nice and gave that Sunday funnies feel, it beats the fucking daylights out of the comics in the daily paper my school puts out.
I appreciate that you wrote a real poem here. I feel that poetry absolutely must have a structure, style and form. Free verse and blank verse are, in my opinion, not poetry at all. So, the fact that you've written a sonnet puts you ahead of the game significantly. The fact that you didn't shy away from the old Shakespearean forms of words and actually used them to your advantage puts you further ahead. Further, your imagery was quite good and you actually separated your stanzas with their content rather than just letting them mush together, both put you ahead again. The largest point of concern was that 'eyes' was misspelled 'eyen'. The rest was solid and well performed. I'd probably even expect you to be able to write in other more complex forms since you've got this down so well. I'm really impressed if you couldn't already tell. I hope you continue to write poetry because you have a knack for it I'd guess.
Looks like friends are those who will turn a blind eye to even your worst failures. I appreciate it guys.
I finally threw something together that isn't utter crap. Yay me. I decided that I'd misread the initial posting and rather than writing about the concept of mundane I should write about something mundane. The overall quality suffers from my lack of skill but it's better. I may change it again again but that's unlikely at this juncture. Spoiler Through the echoes and cries of the surrounding forest he quiets his mind and trains his sharpened eyes through the dense foliage to a clearing. Soon, he feels a strange calmness wash over him, his grip on his rifle loosens and his steps are suddenly light as a feather. As he silently stalks his unsuspecting prey he feels at one with the world. So he takes aim, slowly sighting out his target, carefully leading it in the cross hairs. Bang. His shot rings in his ears, as the hunter stares at his intended target, disappointed. But it isn't spooked, he readies his arm again for the kill. Less of a lead this time, the round must have zoomed straight by it. Again, breath stilled, eyes centered he takes his shot. Down it goes this time. He's got his rhythm now, the game was going at his pace. Down falls another and another. Soon they've all fallen. The screen clears and two colored boxes appear and between them a countdown from twenty. “Select a prize,†says one. “Continue?†asks another. He searches his thoughts as the numbers slip lower and lower. He finally takes aim and fires at the box marked, “Continue?†The screen flickers and his prey begin to stalk back into view. Soon the screen clears again and only a single box appears on the screen. A hand darts into his pocket frantically searching for another quarter. He runs a hand through his hair saying, “I guess you win this time duckies.†Defeated, the hunter slumps over returning the dirty blue plastic gun to it's cracked rubber resting place below the screen. Pointing a finger accusingly at the arcade cabinet he says, “Next time.†And with a recoiling motion of his wrist, “Bang.â€
Will never retire.
Look at you tiny itty bitty men running from sandwich!
