A general run down of who and what I am.

 

Let's begin!  

 

I'm a writer, preferring the Gonzo journalism style to just about anything.  If it could be considered a 'style'.  I continue to throw words at the ink, waiting for some inkblot of success to appear.  It has not come yet, though I shall not dismay nor slow in my efforts.  Try hard enough at something and you're liable to win out of sheer stubbornness.  

 

Talents I consider myself somewhat gifted at are spinning poi, story telling, and making an ass of myself.  Tis true I'm afraid, but I find that laughter is the best payment of all.  If I can make someone laugh, my job is done.  (Though perhaps not properly if they're laughing.)

 

I'm looking to join a Faire, though currently my financial status is:  Broke.  Seems my states reflects on the economy; F.U.B.A.R or S.N.A.F.U.

 

I suppose any questions that anyone at all has, I'll answer to the best of my abilities.  

 

Regards and moonlit paths,

Scarab 

Stuck in my rotting shell, cancer-stick smoldering between my lips, I sit, staring at the window to my world. This world… A world of electronic blips and whistles, a world of silicon sex and chrome foreplay. Blinking away the images that are mere figments of my imagination, I wait.

I am reaching out to the world, trying to touch it, trying to save it. But saving the world proves just as difficult as touching it. I can’t seem to get through. Ignored? Possibly. I’m not the most optimistic of The Entropy Report, just the darkest at the moment. If things can turn to shit, they will, and generally at the worst possible time.

What is it that makes me actually want to help you all? What is it about you filthy and disgusting people that flips the sympathy switch in my head? WHY?

Why does it feel that all this was for not? I don’t have the answers for any of these questions. Unfortunately for society, I happen to care a lot. My attention may not be wanted, but god damn it I’m human and my life has value!

Just sitting here, throwing words at the Ink, waiting for the words to make a mark. Just waiting for time to move on and forget about me so I may sleep.

If you’re ever forgotten, you are truly dead. If no memory remains of your passing, then you never passed by to begin with.

Regards,

-$carab-