KiOwA
Gerald

Inscribed On Tombstone:
Born: New Year's Eve, 1983
Location: SkateTown
Occupation: Incorrigible Slacker
Real Occupation: Media Student

Herein lies a...
Die-hard romantic
Tireless advice-giver
Certified gun-nut
Lazy-ass whore
Loyalist to a fault
Parody-lover
Electronic Entertainment Enthusiast
Football Fanatic
Conspiracy-theorist Crackpot
Wordsmith
Unrealistic idealist
Self-righteous moralist
Born individualist
Former atheist
Penchant for the melodramatic
Sentimentalist

Quotable Quotes

"Soon the reason is gone, and all that is left is the feeling itself..."
- Anonymous

"The thrill is in the hunt."
- Myself

"Even the strongest have their moments of fatigue."
- Nietzsche

"Fortune favours the bold."
- Virgil

"It is but a shadow and a flicker that you love..."
- Aragorn

"Beneath this mask is an idea... and ideas are bulletproof."
- V

"I have dreamed a dream... but now that dream has gone from me."
- Morpheus

"God does not play dice."
- Einstein

"Einstein would turn over in his grave. Not only does God play dice, the dice are loaded."
- Academician Prokhor Zhakarov

"When you kill one, it is a tragedy. When you kill ten million, it is a statistic."
- Stalin

"In one dimension I find existence, in two I find life, but in three, I find freedom."
- Foreman Domai

"You see, people believe what the media tells them to believe. And I tell the media what to believe."
- Kane

"Optimists and pessimists die the same way. Optimists just live differently."
- Shimon Peres

"Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!"
- David G. Farragut

"You know you are in love, when you see the world in her eyes, and her eyes everywhere in the world."
- David Levesque

"Music... the language to stir the hearts of men."
- Shakespeare

"A man always finds it hard to accept he has lost a woman's love, no matter how badly he may have treated her."
- Sherlock Holmes

"He who attacks where his enemy does not know how to defend, will be victorious."
- Sun Tzu

"Without purpose, we would not exist."
- Agent Smith

"I know guys like you, you can do any terrifying thing you're ordered to do... but you have to do it running."
- Carl

"History has been one long series of conspiracies... the successful ones, we call governments."
- Stanton Dowd

"The empires of the future are the empires of the mind."
- Winston Churchill

"One thing is true of all governments... the most reliable records are tax records."
- Eric Finch

"When a guy sleeps around, he's a player. When a girl does, she's a slut."
- Sean

"A person is smart. People are dumb, stupid & panicky, and you know it."
- K.

Song 'O The Moment



Song: No Music
Artiste: Nobody

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Monday, July 24, 2006

Excerpt from Forward The Foundation (by Isaac Asimov):



"Elar is dead," she said. "I finally killed a human being. -First time. -Makes it worse."

"How badly are you damaged, Dors?"

"Badly. Elar turned his device on - full - when I rushed him."

"You can be readjusted."

"How? There's no one - on Trantor - who knows how. I need Daneel."

Daneel. Demerzel. Somehow, deep inside, Hari had always known. His friend - a robot - had provided him with a protector - a robot - to ensure that psychohistory and the seeds of the Foundation were given a chance to take root. The only problem, Hari had fallen in love with his protector - a robot. It all made sense now. All the nagging doubts and questions could be answered. And somehow, it didn't matter one bit. All that mattered was Dors.

"We can't let this happen."

"It must." Dor's eyes fluttered open and looked at Seldon. "Must. Tried to save you, but missed - vital point - who will protect you now?"

Seldon couldn't see her clearly. There was something wrong with his eyes. "Don't worry about me, Dors. It's you- It's you-"

"No. You, Hari. Tell Manella - Manella - I forgive her now. She did better than I. Explain to Wanda. You and Raych - take care of each other."

"No no no," said Seldon, rocking back and forth. "You can't do this. Hang on, Dors. Please. Please, my love."

Dor's head shook feebly and she smiled even more feebly. "Goodbye, Hari, my love. Remember always - all you did for me."

"I did nothing for you."

"You loved me and your love made me - human."

Her eyes remained open, but Dors had ceased functioning.


Runnin' away, you can't pretend...
12:45 AM

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Tuesday, July 18, 2006

So much for trying to cut back on the 3-0 deficit. I'm lucky I didn't fall further behind, and but for some miraculous luck I would already have. The bar is my best friend so far in this game; many a time it has denied the opposition when my defenders had already been left on their backsides.

Sometimes, all the subtlety in the world can be undone by the simplest of stratagems.

Too focused on cutting out the through passes the other team were stringing, I almost fell victim to the oldest trick in the book: the direct ball. As a result, my 'keeper and sweeper have almost come to blows over whose fault it was. Before further animosity can be exchanged, they're pulled apart, but apparently they are no longer on talking terms.

Great. A feuding team and a seemingly-insurmountable scoreline.

Pull it together, man. There is no way in the coldest of hells I can afford to concede another goal; it would be the final torpedo in the side of an already-listing battleship.

My hand is forced, and I can no longer delay a change. I take off the tiring defender, and send on my best attacking sub. Hopefully, he'll give us some much-needed width, and I can start to make some sort of serious impact on this match.

At the very least, my 'keeper won't have to murder the man in front of him.

It's do or die, commander. Time to kick ass and chew bubble gum.

But I'm all outta gum.


Runnin' away, you can't pretend...
5:44 PM

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Sunday, July 09, 2006

"Fight! Fight for your lives!"

As Gondorian infantry fought a desperate, last-ditch battle in the streets of Minas Tirith, doomwolves, orcs and armoured trolls poured among them like an insatiable flood, while numerous fires raged amidst the ruins of Minas Tirith.

The defenders of the White City were hopelessly outnumbered, but they would fight on anyway.

Then Gandalf looked up, a look of surprise creasing his battle-stained features.

A lone trumpet sounded out, its billowing tone carrying a plaintive note across the fields of the Pelennor.

A line of figures silhouetted against the horizon. Mounted figures, as the line quickly grew to encompass as far as the eye could see. Horsemen.

Rohirrim.

To honour their pact of brotherhood forged centuries ago in the furnaces of war, Rohan had come to save its ally.

Stretched across the endless fields, the hordes of Sauron were massed in all their dark splendor. Catapults incessantly rained boulders upon the besieged defenders of the White City, as siege towers continued their ominous path towards the marble fortifications.

Eowyn squeezed her arm around Merry comfortingly.

"Courage, Merry. Courage for our friends."

A thousand yards away, Gothmog strode among his bewildered troops, the Orc commander spitting out terse commands.

"Form ranks, you maggots! Pikes in front, archers behind!"

Elsewhere, Theoden brought his white steed to a halt, surveying the many regiments of doom marked out in stark relief, before spurring his horse towards his commanders to issue battle orders.

"Eomer, take your Eored down the left flank."

"Flank ready!"

"Gamling, follow the King's banner down the centre. Grimbold, take your company right after we pass the wall. Forth, and fear no darkness!"

The King of Rohan brought his stallion to a halt in front of his army. "Arise! Arise, riders of Theoden!", the king raising his voice to inspire his people, the pride of Rohan. "Spears shall be shaken, shields shall be shaken. A sword-day, a red-day, ere the sun rises!"

Wordlessly, the front ranks began to lower their spears in preparation for the charge, resembling a giant porcupine about to unleash its fury.

"Whatever happens, stay with me. I'll look after you," Eowyn promised.

"Ride now! Ride now!" Theoden continued, his steed cantering vigorously along the the breadth of his army, saluting the foremost riders by clattering his sabre on their raised lances. "Ride! Ride for ruin, and the world's ending!"

Before the echoes had begun to fade away, Theoden raised his sword for one last rally.

Who am I, Gamling?

"Death!"

"DEATH!" roared back the massed Rohirrim.

You are our king, my liege.

"Death!" Theoden cried again, waving his sword.

"DEATH!!" was the echo that rolled across the plain.

And do you trust your king?

"Death!" screamed the king.

This time, Eowyn and Merry lent their voices to the incredible chorus: "DEATH!!!"

Your men, my lord, will follow you to whatever end.

"Forth Eorlingas!"

To whatever end.

Again the battle rhythm of Rohan sounded, but this time with the all might of Rohan's trumpeters behind it. The rising sun glinted off the armour of the Rohan warriors, silhouettting them as warriors of righteousness.

Leading his army on with the point of his sword, Theoden quickly spurred his mount to a canter. The eager cries of the Rohirrim followed as they urged their own horses after the monarch, undimmed by any thought of fear or of self-doubt.

The army fanned out, its riders assuming the arrow-shaped formation of the wedge, designed to deliver maximum punishing force to whatever might be on the end of such a charge.

The Orc archers stood ready, their bowstrings straining.

"Fire!" Gothmog ordered.

The first wave of black, stubby arrows descended upon the onrushing horsemen. Huge gaps appeared as man and horse tumbled away, felled by the deadly shafts, but the Rohirrim broke not a stride; indeed, they were only roused to greater fury by the death of their comrades, the sounds of their battle-cries carrying higher and higher.

The first line having spent their ammunition, a second line of Orc archers stepped forward to take their place.

"Fire!"

Another hail of death. But this time, with the Rohirrim rapidly closing the distance, many of the arrows were misjudged, thudding harmlessly into the Pelennor turf.

"Charge!" Theoden commanded.

Looking around him frantically, Gothmog issued his last order: "Fire at will!"

This time the response was almost spasmodic, as the Orc archers fumbled to reload their crudely-fashioned bows. The entire company could only manage sporadic shots at the incoming horde as the deafening sound of hooves drowned out the last shreds of Orcish morale.

Nearer and nearer the Rohirrim came. The clangour of their yells carried forth, a fury within that could only be satiated by the death of every last one of their enemies.

Some of the leading Orcs, seeing the bloodlust of their foes more than matching their own, furtively attempted to retreat, but the press of their fellows from behind was too great to resist. In their attempt to get away, the entire front line began to crumble.

Nearer and nearer they came...

A rush of sound and colour. The biting steel of cavalry sabres, and the piercing blow of their lances. A Rohan warrior was lifted out of his saddle on the edge of a coal-black pike, and a patch of dark metal appeared where a score of orcs were trampled into the ground by relentless hooves.

The Rohirrim broke upon their enemies like an irresistible tidal wave, sweeping all before them in a body.

The nerve of the Orcs completely shattered, they turned as one to run away, their minds overtaken by sheer panic. Many of them did not get far, however, as they only presented a better target; Orc after Orc was pincushioned in the back by spear, arrow or throwing axe, or simply cut down mercilessly as the Rohirrim rode past.

"Drive them to the river!" Eomer yelled.

His command was unnecessary, however. The few Orcs able to muster any signs of resistance were quickly overwhelmed by the sheer momentum of the charge, knocked aside by a few hundred pounds of swiftly-moving horse, the Rohirrim whooping their battle-cries as they savagely cut their enemies to pieces.

By now Eowyn and Merry had been forced to a virtual standstill, but this did not deter them as they used the greater height of their horse to full advantage, striking down the panicking Orcs on both sides.

"Make safe the city!" Theoden ordered.

Before the remnants of the routed Orcs could fade away, a thudding echo silenced the raucous chants of victory. Open-mouthed, Theoden stared down the Pelennor at a new and formidable threat.

The battle was not yet over.


Runnin' away, you can't pretend...
6:15 PM

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