Wednesday, July 2, 2008

My Twenty-Second Blog Entry

Dear Blog,

Today is a sunkenship day indeed. My heart will NOT go on, as so illustriously promised. You see, I have fallen into a severe and ingrown depth of amorosity. It seems as though all opportunities of succession fail me, and I come to conclusion that my only release is that of love, and that is where I have befallen yourself. Perhaps I have indebted myself too to many of these, and this love is wherefore I stand.

I am in riverrun canyons love with a friend of my mother's.

Nelta, she remains. It is in this purpose that I extend my gratuitous feelings towards her. Nelta, are you reading my portrusions? They emanate from my bosom more heavily than free flowing ducts release their sap, more perfunctorily than the dreams of a fargone boyhood aftershore benign, more sharply than the glass which shimmers on dull lake waters, more beverly than summertime in the winter, more slight than the moon slices the pavement blade deep.

It is this... eliptically.

Since then my focus on my preoccupations blithely hinder on the untowards. I can not focus cohesion, do you know how I met you, Nelta? I thought you may. In a bitter hovel I frequent, bereft of decency and nowhere near as suave as that of my dear sweet sister instead, my mother's. Those eloquent games around tables that crave support, all night, and your sweet visage upon the watch. Nelta!

So, without great affair simply set to the addage, and proverb of our times. I still go on, but not without her, whose broad shoulders set a tune to the time, whose lack of defining and most horrid facepaint reveals her stately qualities, whose gentle facial fuzz I long to caress, whose muscular ripples find event in the case.

Let me stroke you? The gentle prickles sooth my mind, and I feel only as I ever have with One other. Him.

From now on I privately adress all our correspondance through Blog. We will meet again soon.


Monday, June 30, 2008

My Twenty-First Blog Entry

Dear Blog,

An addendum to the previous. PETA responds not to my passion, infuriation and determination, as such, I have chosen instead to become a more OFFICIAL breed of Bohemian and set the accordances accordingly to hear back in due time. Genevieve on our walk recommended I make further use of the telephone in proper acknowledgement, rather than e-mails which garden no responses. Should this be done? The expenses are great as are the night-high nerves. To the future!


My Twentieth Blog Entry

Dear Blog,

If nothing else: an aniversary!!!!! We have been together for a full twenty which is twice ten and a fine celebration indeed.

However, my life is a deep grey fringed denomination. New directions and new colours are welcomed necessarily with a fernacious piece of lending.

Today my sister Genevieve, who makes prints, took me for a stroll among the countryside of our neighbourhood street. We discussed strange objects of desire and delight. She is concerned for many of my safeties which is a distinct matter of amusement concern. She prefers that I would continue to live beside and alongside my mother rather than in her printmaking studio apartment. This is an infeasibility. I am at home with Genevieve, or, in the French, John V. Eff (LOL) and I suspect she desires for a man friend of hers to enter living quarters. Unless that man is David Tennant: no.

I recieved a frowning cryptic e-mail in my inbox today from meding, as follows (the subject line bore fantastically: Megan Fox spotted topless in Santorini):
Your gun is set to get bigger and bigger

I was recommended so as not to click the link, but I am mythfully consumed with deprecation at this juncture. The RSC has not responded currently and perhaps this is an attempt to get through? A. Shakespear is known to write with coda and muddled, perhaps this was his method of notification regarding my role?

To twenty more my love and sanctification, your friend,

Saturday, June 28, 2008

My Nineteenth Blog Entry

Dear Blog,

I don't understand where my intuitivity naive has gone!!! I used to be so responsible in my endeavours but unfortunately I do not succeed at the present time!

No response from Carnegie Hall as to my concert (just as well due to my current disinterest in the field, I suppose they heard through word-of-mouth that I was no longer available), no response from PETA as to my advantageousness, and no response from the RSC in regards to my upcoming role!

Where is the respect I once had? There is something I must rant in accordance for.

Simply because I abandoned the Poet Laureate career does not make me a person who is not respectable. It was not a field for me, as there are many fields, of wheat, of hayhair, of cotton, of jocularity and of water, there are so many fields and this could not possibly have been mine. This means I am in need of a new and greener field of pasture and here, here there is none to be found!

I must be allowed to be free and I shall be released. It is only a matter of time. I am in need of more precipitates to contact. Suggestions would be highly welcomed as those seems to be in short supply recieve.

Yours to my heart in the affections of my still well bitter blood,
Jonas Rudolf Dickinson

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

My Eighteenth Blog Entry

Dear Blog,

Meat is murder!

I am much dissuaged by depressionary unresponse, from Carnegie Hall, the Facebook, and otherwise. It seems that only a deeper appreciate insight is to follow. The likes of the greats found themselves likewise swarthed in sadness, and therefore, I have made the decision to become Bohemian. This entrails many aspects highly inclined to further my many artistic endeavours, and leave my pages of my book open to new mythologies.

As such there are two main conglomorates: mime and activism. Both of which I will endorse to those who simply miss or lack the understanding of my prodigal.

My first establishment lies far off lands. It beckons me forward to paint a photoless picture of the world. I intend to star alongside David Tennant as Hamlet in Arnold Shakespear's renowned play, Hamlet. Perhaps we shall indeed strike up the band that leads to friendship, no? I have read the script and found all of my moments to shine and am much prepared, although the play is not very good. The language is off the charts in regards to the use of language. There is such a thing as taking malleability too far! LOL!

However, I believe this shall be a tremendous learning. David Tennant is for par, but not undoubtedly lacking in fine industry establishment.

And initially, I have been continuing to attend my therapeutic appointments at the behest of my familiality. They consider the works of She (as I will refer to my attending, for reasons of confiality) as highly important to the logical development of my continued success. Sadly, she simply does not grasp the swirling gravitas galaxy of art. The impetus just rolls of her back like a duck off water. As such, research of She is perhaps no longer imminent, and I must discuss the rage I express towards the status quo in the following paragraph.

There is not a necessary grasp for any to follow my thunderous agression! We MUST band together and eliminate war! As well, it is evocative of us to pre vent, and nurture forwards against the destruction of Engendered Animals! They are everywhere, and therefore an issue of import! Why isn't anybody listening? Why must my cries be sat alone?

I weep to the world, and demand a response. E-mail me! I am considerate of your thoughts!

Yours in love, peace, foreboding and effervescence,
Jonas Rudolf Dickinson

P.S. Perhaps those of senior parlimental or senatorial positions who frequently frequent on my Blog would do to have a discourse.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

My Seventeenth Blog Entry

Dear Blog,

It has been many moons since the day I last prohibited my poetry upon your being. In honour of that, here is a new one I aspired to while dreaming days on the bus this fine young morning. I have been working greatly to improve my work, greatly in the highest expense, and therefore have improved affordingly.

From poet to infinity,
Like the celestial bosom
Of DeMille's last strenuous
Sessions with Hercules, the might
The break, heart, Sysyphian push
Cystalline in the defenceless winter
And a wither of a lamb, small
Limited in number, as an eaten veal
Would struggle towards the light.

Pulling, pushing, the womb
Can stretch your finest, fiercest hour
So definist, never let them swagger
and climactically would fall
towards the discotheque (metaphorical)
Phosphorous Of Ages.

In other news, I long for a vocation. Life is much and many, and I am few with suffering. I have been looking into many places quite warm, and others very cold. I have not decided as of late.


Monday, June 16, 2008

My Sixteenth Blog Entry

Dear Blog,

Today, as of late, please take specific notice of my new cultural symbol. Persephone, of Persephone Magazine recently brought it up to my attentiveness that perhaps it is not undue with care for me to acknowledge my uninterrupted flow of ceaseful admiration for the fondly remembered LittleRadge. I wish not to beteem him with terrible anecdotes, merely as a goodly gesture for his entertainment philosophy (a new divergence!?)

As for to that, I have taken it upon the back to repeat my infractive-state with lesser stance. I maintain a politic notion of decisive indifference to his formation, but do hope he will refrain from further quick-throat endeavourances. I would only accept that he ado my gentle qualms, and seeming wonder. He is a tomato to my adamant glee.

Furtherance, I am at liberty to bring you around to my great revealing.

I have been studying the quantitative works of simple Professor William McGonagall. He is indeed full of stately stature. The temperance he delivers on the forests of Green-land are with all might. I please do advise that one follow the path that dwindles like the light of a fire-bug's radiant, to frequent his sights. You may indulge in his homeplace of . It is indeed a noble spire that deceases beyond his grave.

I feel that perhaps in my own body, Professor McGonagall gave great scope as serving of the position of United States Poet Laureate. I know that my own talent rises through the ashes. This is why I must err cautiously but with refrain of poet and direct my many strengths to my imminent career as Singer/Songwriter and perhaps Researcher.

This is that same one Researcher which I will evidence in follow courses.

That is all.

Love to many, one and all,
Jonas R. Dickinson