Books online.

http://www.amillionpenguins.com/wiki/index.php/Main_Page

My Favorite Guitar Solos

There are 6 of them in no specific order.
#1 Megadeth – Disconnect Solo is from 2:47-4:16

#2 Dream Theater – Voices Solo is from 7:25-8:20

#3 Faith No More – The Cowboy Song Solo is from 3:51-4:48

#4 Symphony X – Domination Solo is from 4:10-4:30

#5 Ayreon – E=MC2 Solo is from 4:27-5:03

#6 Megadeth – Tornado of Souls Solo is from 3:09-4:09

Random connections do us best

It all wasn’t just a dream
A little more than the tadpole underwater biting the lip of the clouds above
Fog it was
Foggy it wasn’t
Having fun clearly
In the vision clear
In the air
Feeling the greens that power us sour into dreams dilluted to nightmares not even taking place at night
Quite possibly involving a knight, right?
Can’t find the light to see the door
Do we really want to find the exit after all our sunshine isn’t too sugary
The bricks that compose us all
The sticks that lead the way
The tricks that consume
Deconstruction
Recollection of the composition
In need of a tour guide to give a show to the boat that will take us across the stretch of long dusty pavement
Miles and hours stretch our tape to tree paper becoming a home wishing for undone deeds
Think progressively they say as the regression equation dominates
Take a step down not back now it’s trampled under foot because feet were too many

===================================================

You come here running a hundred miles a hour from the city,
fleeing, fleeing, fleeing, FLEETING,
Sophisticated city slicker looking for a city simpler,
running, hiding, running, hiding, ESCAPING,
Dweller in a dwelling as you’re dwelling on selling the past,
far, far, far, far, far, AWAY.

Here our guitars don’t need electricity,
Living with simple things like wood for heating,
Traveling down river with boats and anchor,
You gotta work your way up so start scraping,
No one was born here with wealth amassed,
Just working for the end-of-life buffet,
Our town lifestyle may be dated,
But that don’t mean we ain’t sophisticated.

Megastache

Megastache
Or
The Story of How I Met Ashley Nolan

She sat at the table, eating breakfast. Twenty towering flapjacks, the king of breakfast foods, tasty delightful delicacies, soaking with streams of syrup, steaming from their battery home, sat beside fourteen eggs, an undoubtedly delicious blend of white and yellow, ten strips of sizzling greasy bacon, eight links of country gravy smothered golden brown cooked to perfection sausage, seven slices of buttery beautiful bread, topped off with two gallons of milk straight from the cow, it was the only way to have it, but to finish the entire breakfast, she always had to have the kingliest of breakfast drinks, a pint of freshly squeezed orange juice, pulp free of course. One giant echoing belch later, Ashley Nolan stood up and wiped the last bits and drops of burp out of her beard.
Ashley Nolan was the king of the lumberjacks, although neither having picked up a single axe nor chopped down a single tree in her life. Her facial hair was just so great, rugged and inspiring, that she magically became king of the lumberjacks. It isn’t as magical as waving around a wand or clicking your heels, because she actually became king by challenging the former king to a whiskey drinking contest, mostly due to the former king calling Ashley a queen. They went toe to toe, beard against beard, shot for shot, and in the end Ashley won the contest much to the chagrin of the former king. Ashley realized that she had won the contest, and due to man law that all the lumberjacks lived up to, Ashley’s beard wrapped itself around the neck of the former king, snapping it and killing him on the spot. Man law states that no male king shall give up his throne ever in his life, it was just the manliest thing he could do.
Ashley is so amazing that I got swallowed up in talking about her past, when clearly her present and future are going to be exceedingly amazing compared to it. As I was saying before, she finished her belch and walked out the front door, to be greeted by the crisp smoggy air of the busy bustling city which always began the new day.
She stretched her arms out, allowing herself some time to breathe out some words. “Invisible bear, I know you’re clearly invisible, but I’m the king of the lumberjacks and to me, you’re barely visible, for my powers of alcoholism allow me to see into dimensions and depths not normally allowed by that of any normal lumberjack.” Before she could finish her statement, she threw a punch to her left and a loud moan could be heard for yards around.
With a lift of her leg she made a sumo step over empty ground and stomped down, as the stomp hit the ground, an invisible bear became clearly visible, blood running from its skull, as Ashley’s punch completely crushed that sturdy bone inside the head of the bear. This bear was no tiny creature either; this bear was twice Ashley’s size. Ashley was by no means a dwarf either, she stood six feet, seven inches tall, and weighed in at a solid one hundred and ninety pounds.
Ashley looked down with a cocky smirk on her face. “You thought I couldn’t take you down you invisible punk?” Ashley pointed at her left and right eyes with her index and middle fingers, then pointed them down at the dead bear. “I’m King Ashley, I’m just that good, and I kill invisible bears!” Ashley’s beard blew in the wind as she wiped newly visible blood from her fists.
“I guess it’s time now.” Ashley felt a tingle in her beard, and then it came.
“It’s time to prove your worth.” A voice filled Ashley’s head as her beard licked slightly salty sweat from her eyebrows.
“Show yourself, coward.” Ashley looked ready to fight, as did her beard.
“I’m right in front of you, so called king of the lumberjacks.” Ashley fell to her knees as screams of pain forced their way out of her. Her moustache ripped itself off of her rugged face, only to float in the wind on its way to the ground, where it took the time to stand itself up on strands of itself.
Her beard shook its fist at the traitorous moustache that stood before them. Ashley rubbed her upper lip while she regained her standing posture, noticing the moustache on the ground. “You son of a bitch. Who knew my moustache was so bad ass and evil that I would have to eventually kill it myself?”
“Are you ready to prove your worth?” The moustache was somehow able to communicate with Ashley.
Ashley smirked. “Yep.” With a look to the left, then the right, and once more to the left, Ashley licked her lips, took one giant stomp towards and onto the moustache. A loud squeak emitted from beneath Ashley’s lumberjack boot. She lifted it to reveal a large clump of defeated hair splattered to the sole. She smirked in approval as she pulled out her knife. Ashley stabbed the knife into the sole of her boot, and peeled the jumble of hairs off, and into her hand. She looked at the crushed hairs, “I win.”
Ashley fired a large blob of spit from her mouth onto the cluster of hairs. Spit dripped from her hand to the ground, as she slapped it back onto her upper lip. Ashley’s beard reached up and began to ring the spit out of the moustache, leaving only bits of dirt and hair in it. “It’s good to be the king.” Ashley stroked her beard one last time.

Here’s an example of internet identity

http://alphacw.awardspace.com/

Here, at this site, people create characters, of the pro wrestler variety. The people then role-play as their said created wrestler, and they emulate the tv show/ppv show format of pro wrestling businesses. Each person has their own identity and the best ones are the people who earn the championship belts of the said e-wrestling promotion.

Some of these people are completely different people in character, from who they are in real life. Some of these people also get really really really into their characters, and even to the point of where they get lost in their characters, never to be found again. It’s the nature of the beast.

Internet usage

Monday: Periodically between 8am-11am, Anytime between 1pm-Midnight

Tuesday: Periodically between 8am-11am, 2:30pm-3:30pm, 7pm-Midnight

Wednesday: Periodically between 8am-11am and 2pm-7pm, 7pm-Midnight

Thursday: Periodically between 8am-11am, 2:30pm-3:30pm, 7pm-Midnight

Friday: Periodically between 8am-11am, 4pm-Midnight

Most of the time I spent online was browsing the internet or talking to people.

The online videos

I guess it’s different for me, not having entirely grown up with myself being able to get on the internet. I remember that my parents didn’t get the internet in our house until I was in about the 6th grade. Some of the people in the video just seemed far too socially dependent on the internet. To the point that if you were to take the internet away from them, they’d probably go into a closet to wither away and die.

But with that, I think the longer you use the internet, the more you learn about it and the more things you know not to do with it. Like talking to complete strangers, I think everyone learns that at a really young age, but with the internet it’s a little bit different as you don’t see them face to face, so you feel safe and secure. Well that’s pretty much true, that you are. You have to make the mistake of going and meeting the person in person before they can murder you.

Yeah.

The seven hands of helping reign,
First hand to console the slain,
Second hand to guide their aim,
Third hand to play the game,
Fourth hand to pleasure and tame,
Fifth hand to point the blame,
Sixth hand to put to shame,
Last hand to kill and maim.

Part 1: Healing Hand

Guarded by the holy light,
Smoke and stars the only sight,
War is fought around at night,
Why die when you can fight?

Oh, by the hand I was scarred,
By the flames their land was charred,
Take the hits and my body was marred,
Under night I was slain under stars,
The wounds will heal and my pain will scar.

Oh heavenly mistress can’t you be,
The healing light to encompass me,
Be the savior that I can see,
Healing arms to set me free.

Let us go and heal the weary,
Save us from the dark and dreary,
Heal me now so I can see clearly,
Embrace my soul oh so dearly.

Part 2: Guiding Hand

Our paths shall be revealed,
Thirsts for pain we have appealed,
Their true intentions have been concealed,
Our former actions must be repealed.

On the field with our weaponry,
To win we’ll need our mastery,
They will try to defeat the misery,
If I die please dispose of me.

We look to see the guiding light,
With an arrow we have been the sight,
Now it’s time that we dispose of this fight,
Resisting the hate and corrupting the blight.

Oh when the rocks crumble,
And with a thunder rumble,
And now the warrior mumbles,
Finally right the warrior stumbles.

Part 3: Gambling Hand

Oh by the list that’s amounting,
To hire workers for accounting,
This man’s debts are undoubting,
I bet he wishes for restarting.

To recollect these past dues,
To hunt him down, follow the clues,
When they find him, he’ll definitely lose his shoes,
A body in a bag, they wonder whose.

A man willing to put it at stake,
To lose this bet, his life would break,
To win this wager, his riches creation,
Amass the riches to create his nation.

Where to hide the riches,
The itch of greed itches,
The above plan he pitches,
To the men scarred with stitches…

Part 4: Hand of Relaxation

Here poor man, we aim to please,
We’ll give you a room on a nifty lease,
Brand new clothes without a crease,
Cleaning up your messes and their grease.

Come inside, lay down and rest your head,
Dream away your slumber in bed,
Hands of lavender heal your face of red,
A day for rest and relaxation in your head.

Part 5: Deceptive Reflection

I ask of you now,
Won’t you lend us a hand,
A deed for us we’ll allow,
But don’t ask us how.

“We need you to dispose of this land,
Do it and you’ll earn a grand.”

Deceiving now,
Reflecting how,
Contemplating how this came to be,
The one against authority,
How did this happen to me,
I wish that I could see,
Embracing this,
Disrupting bliss,
With the hands,
That are upon me,
And the pain that I failed to see,
And when it all circles back to me…

Part 6: Hand of Blame

You have become our lured jig,
New to this you’re the guinea pig,
In our plot of deception you were rigged,
Now your own grave you’ll dig.

Now we will hang you out dry,
Running away isn’t an option to try,
Scenes that will haunt you until you die,
These options fill your mind as you cry.

It’s time for the blame to be placed upon you,
When this all started you would ask “who knew?”
Away you ran until they caught you, too,
Began to boil the new hatred brew.

Part 7: Shameful Hands

Now the time has come,
And the jury selected,
Looked down upon by some,
For evil deeds done,
Man will not turn away,
Crying for your pleas,
Begging down on your knees,
Fearing your pleas rejected,
The end has come today,
You just may,
End up living,
Living in seclusion,
A world of delusion,
Filled with illusion,
Another fate objected,
Wishing for another chance giving,
Oh to no avail,
Turning pale,
You’re a man whose lost his throne,
Living in dementia on his own,
Praying to the heavenly father for a loan,
Giving up on the life with a groan,
Now your past is being reflected,
This house built by your bricks,
Crumbled back down to sticks,
World destroyed by their tricks,
It all crashes down,
With their shameful hands.

Part 8: Death By Hands

Now the time has come for revenge to run,
Rampant upon this world,

“The bastards must die,
A deadly surprise to them,
After I get out.”

Gathering our weaponry like it mattered,
Don’t see the reason for attacking,
Bullets flying and the bloodshed scattered,
Their six foot plots upon a platter.

My revenge is finally complete,
And the toll accumulates to their defeat,
And I hope history won’t repeat,
My soul is covered in concrete,
But I still feel empty…

“Savior please,
Oh won’t you cleanse me now,
And let me be free?”

Losing life by taking life,
Earning life, then losing it all again,
By taking it all away.

Part 9: I Need Freedom

Take me away from my pain,
Cleanse my soul to make me right again,
Erase my mind to forget the slain,
Sooth my body to release all my pain,
Clouding my world to drench in rain,
Flushing my life of all my evil gains.

A Healing Mistress,
Silenced all my aching pains,
Please heal me now.

A new man reborn,
On the new day that comes,
And the wish has been granted,
And the healing is done.

“At last finally,
My freedom has come today,
Salvation again.”

Here’s another.

Part I: Distaste For Color

An empty heart,
Free from distress,
A brand new start,
Brand new life to worry less,
Is it a worthy life to bless,
A soul that doesn’t see a bleeding heart,
Maybe a girl in the crimson dress,
Where do we start?

Now to city, not that long ago,
Filled with people amazed by what they know,
No one ever would suggest not to go,
In this town, there lives a boy,
In this town, there lives a girl,
Perfection in mind,
Spiral in wind,
Maybe the reflection of perfection.

To wodner how they’ll handle rejection,
Wondering how to cope with deception,
Welcome to the lack of compassion,
Can they all resist corruption,
And their meaning of life,
Will they find it’s definition?

A town that reeks of positivity,
Time to cast the shadow o negativity.

Now the reaper enters this town,
The scythe spiralling down,
Poison down to the roots,
Complications to the process they shoot,
Town crumbling now,
Townsfolk wondering how,
Now it’s over now,
The poor kids are in the ground.

Part II: About A Boy

Sky blue walls surrounding,
A savings account compounding,
Posters of his favorite bands,
Plaque on the wall of his baby hands,
An antique ceiling fan spinning around,
Brown bear fur covering the ground,
Picture of his girlfriend on the desktop,
Basketball hoop out on the blacktop,
Dreaming of life when he’s older,
Dreaming of filling the head on his shoulders.

Wind flowing in his short crimson hair,
Eyes of water filling his stare,
Facial details free from worry and care,
Perfect straight teeth, through meat they’ll tear,
But he’s a vegetarian, it’s only fair,
A closet full of clothes, life full of flair,
An athletic body that cuts through air,
But an empty soul he’ll bear,
To fill it up, would he dare?

Part III: This Girl Of His

A thin busty blonde,
With kisses to put you on the ropes,
Beautiful leech upon wallet,
Hungry eyes staring into the window,
Soft warmth embracing you,
Consoling when you’re sad,
You’ll never give it up,
It’ll never slip away,
To know the other route to take,
A path travelled alone,
But never to know,
Due to her ease of pleasure,
Because,
Pleasure is good, and good is pleasure,
A stroke of genius to his spiderweb,
A gushing gyser to cleanse his head,
The matter to be decided,
Will be finished in bed.

Part IV: The Stranger Is Simply Spooky

Trench coat enters town,
Creation in hand,
Letting his long hair flow down,
His smile enticing the land,
But deep down inside,
We’re questioning him,
Enticing who?

Sensing rainbows in his footsteps,
Sensing happiness all the time,
Questioning personal sexuality,
Questioning as if his life were a crime.

What are differences seperating him,
What are flaws that make his light dim,
Looking upon as his lifestyle were grim,
Believe that his life is horror,
Just because he life isn’t for her,
Corrupting a town’s moral fabric,
Burning it down, and stitching his quilt.

The blue skies have turned to red,
Blood raining down to cover your head,
Wondering about his mom and if she’s dead.

Part V: Point Of View

“Why am I so disgusting?
Am I doing wrong?
My life is not so different,
My life is lived here.

It’s not like I chose this path,
Born with this choice and I’ll face it’s wrath,
The solution to this isn’t in any math.

I’m not wasting my time on this,
Losing some time to think about this.

I know, now I’ve got a plan,
I’ll make a believer out of this town,
I don’t wanna be evil for my life,
But I will be evil by taking theirs,
One of theirs,
Drawn out of it’s vein,
An act of blood completing.”
To lie on the floor he’s bleeding.

Not killing a soul,
But changing a mind,
Cleansing evil,
Without comitting a crime,
To find a target freely,
To change a heart by meeting,
And greeting,
Working a magic of love.

But this stranger is spooky,
His love is…complicated.

Part VI: Targeting A Heart

Watching from afar,
To find a heart, to be his star,
Change his heart, without a scar.

Open him to the views,
Horrify him with the news,
Work him over for dues,
To save his soul,
Opening his heart,
To the news of another world,
Feeling warm,
Filled with good,
Has he changed,
Wonder if he could.

Part VII: Encounter

Looking eye to eye,
Matching sigh for sigh,
Thinking of ways to just get by,
Sipping coffee they try.

Standing up to make a sound,
Second guessing by looking around,
Giving it and sitting down,
Staring at the table with its coffee grounds.

Mind is pacing quickly,
Thinking plans up swiftly,
Smirking at the table slickly,
Frowning at the coffee sickly.

Waiting for the moment to come,
Planning the way he’ll come from,
Worried he’ll have to hurt him some,

Waiting for the ideal moment…

Part VIII: Late Night Antics

The lights go out and the neon sign is lit,
“Sorry We’re Closed.” in gaseous green letters,
Hands in pockets, it’s too cold to sit,
Walking to the destination where he first met her.

A blunt shot to the head,
He’s dizzy inside,
A black curtain falls,
He can’t feel the cold outside.

Awakening,
Ropes bound his wrist,
Ankles in chains,
Thoughts of what he’s missed.

A creepy stare,
Into his eyes,
Silencing all of his silent cries,
A soothing kiss,
“What the hell?” He wonders why.
Because it was a guy.

“Use your imagination.”
Deviant mind digging deep,
To find the burried treasure,
This treasure being pleasure,
To one soul,
Through late night antics.

Part IX: The Spiral Compromise

Looking in the mirror,
Feeling tarnished,
Full of terror,
Image in the mirror vanished.

Zombie dead to the world,
Tainted teen trembling,
Staring scared so sad,
Ravaged rummaging rouge.

To come to a fork in the road,
Crossroads of decisions,
To hide in a deep dark closet,
Full of seclusion and paranoia.

Choices spinning out of control,
Decisions filling up to overflow,
Release the flood gates,
Dangle a string to decide this fate,
Running down white halls looking for escape,
Crumbling to pieces about to break.

“No more.
Pity.
Running away.
Face the mirror.
Broke the mirror.
Ignore the thoughts.
Thought about it more.
Am I aroused?
Quite possibly.
Got to tell someone.
Tell no one.
I’ll tell my parents.”

to come to a compromise,
Where the outcome isn’t wise,
Truth screaming out in cries,
Spirallin down into a world of lies.

Spiralling down into fear…

Part X: The Compromised Spiral

Reaching for the doorknob to freedom,
To walk out of a room of captivity,
To give an answer to the land,
Silencing the eager with a hand,
To raise an eyebrow unmanned.

Staring into the light,
Prepared to start this fight,
Expecting the life at night,
People thinking it’s not right,

Open eyes to the skies,
Parting lips to speak his words,
A blinding light!

The smoke clears from his eyes,
The alarm clock just went off.

Please Stop Thinking

I think way too much. Maybe if I never went to sleep ever again, I wouldn’t have to deal with this problem for the rest of my life. It seems like a problem you never really expect to hear about from people. Actually, I’m the only person I know to ever complain about this. I don’t know about any wisdom I’ve gained from this, as I basically complain about this problem of mine. To completely get what I want to put across to you lovely humans, you’d have to pretty much jump into my head, and see through my eyes, to see how much thinking I actually do. Everywhere I sleep, stand, walk, eat, stare, dream, I think about all sorts of random ideas and images that pop into my head, and I believe this thinking all the time stuff annoys me.

Thinking too much doesn’t sound like something someone would normal complain about, does it? Most people would enjoy it to some degree or extent. They could remember more things, they could do more tasks in their heads, and they could have a more vivid imagination I suppose as well. But to me, I get all of those perks, but I don’t exactly see them as perks. Most of the time, these “perks” annoy me greatly. When I play a video game, or actually do something constructive like write this essay, my brain just decides to put thoughts, images, and ideas of stupid crap I don’t need myself thinking about at the time into my head, right where I can see them in the back of my eyes, distracting me from the purpose and task at hand. Look at that, just now my brain distracted me to talk to people online while I work on this essay. My brain oozes of comedic evil, I say.

I know this mind of mine will lead to my demise. When I think about my past and such, or maybe when I try to think up details for a story or essay, most of the time, I just want some minimal pictures to give me an idea of the words to put down, but no. Just no. My brain has to think up something completely colorful and rich with those sweet, succulent details. And right after I told my brain not to. Or maybe I thought to my brain to not think up a vivid image. Most of the time, I just want a simple, black and white photo of a tree in my head, but you want to know what my brain does? It gives me a huge brown oak tree, full of multi-colored leaves, surrounded by squirrels of varied age eating acorns, cute Disney-like deer prancing around the trunk smiling all cute, a calm estuary fill with crystal clear crisp freshwater flowing by the tree, and a spectral rainbow shining through some big fluffy white clouds who happen to have smiley faces for some reason too. To top it off, my brain will also leave a Xerox copy of that image in my head too. Annoyance level of this would collect to much pain to my brain. I don’t want that much detail in my head…ever.

Buy my thinking doesn’t always bring up over-exaggerated details to annoy me. My brain decided one day it would like to have more than one dimension at annoying me, so it decided that it’s going to remember all sorts of little tedious things, along with the big things that I would actually need to remember, like remembering my name or birthday. So when I think about the big things, such as how to do a math problem, or maybe how to do a 22-hit ultra combo in an old school SNES fighting game, my brain will put some meaningless, stupid fact in my head like, “try again later, because the magic 8-ball has spoken!” Thoughts like these just pop into my head, all the time. These thoughts cause me to stare blankly at whatever activity I would participate in when they occur, too. It’s just lovely, isn’t it?

I don’t believe my brain calls itself my enemy though. Sure, some of the time, and probably more in the future my thoughts will actually look on task more often, and I’ll have gained successes more than I have before. Most people would probably look at what I’ve said, and think I’m crazy…or at least missing something. Normal people would probably think that thinking too much is a gift or something, but I would look them dead in the eyes and say, “You can’t contain those thoughts, and thinking too much seems good, if only you could contain it!” Then I’d give them some evil eyes, and run away into the night. I do not consider myself a normal person, and my thoughts and brain amount to clear proof of that. I just believe firmly that I think more than too much, way too over the top, and it bothers me that I can’t exactly fix it. But I know the world always has one way for me to get even with it; I can always get a lobotomy.