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Yar McYarr
16 November 2014 @ 12:16 am
There's one thing that I've always wanted to be one day and that is a published writer. In my teenage years and early twenties, my muse was my own misery, self-loathing, and lustful envy. I composed many pieces with a majority being dark and/or sexually charged. I was full of anger yet hollow with sadness. Much like the lyrics of an Everclear song, I wanted a lover to hold me and tell me that everything was going to be all right. I wanted it to be and her against the world without a thought of how things would turn out after the lights blinked out in that 'Happily Ever After' sign that was lowered right before the credits started to roll. As a result of the many poor decisions that I've made over the past two decades, and not just in my selection of writing topics, I've ruined my credibility as a writer, tarnished my honor as a man, and have mucked up many personal relationships, social circles, and assorted gatherings of those that I would deem peers, friends, or equals. I am a creature of the absurd, but so was Graham Chapman, Douglas Adams, and Hunter S. Thompson. Each of these three men made a bunch of poor choices but they pushed through and didn't let them stand in the way of their pens.

Four years ago, I met Kirsten and my muse drowned in waves of happiness. Before her lungs filled with joy and pushed the last ounce of life up her windpipe and out of her nose, I was able to scribble 'Strolling Before Sleep'. I've not written anything since that time save for time entries at work. When I would look at napkins, I found no words to leave there. Holding a pen, I found it difficult to write anything more than my signature. I lost the ability to write and all because I'd finally found that happiness from that I so long sought. I've struggled these past few weeks to kick start my penmanship, even going so far as to listen to all of the moody music of my youth that used to inspire me so well. Until yesterday, when I bore witness to Carl laying Ian off. I do not fear that Carl will soon cut me loose, too, but rather suspect that I'll be the last one out the door before himself should the company ever close it's doors. However, a flame was sparked within me when a simple thought entered my head: "The time is now".

The time is now for my pen to once again become an extension of my body. There is nothing for me to fear by leaving ink in my wake. There is no reason to let anyone or anything prevent me from achieving my goals. I presently have an notebook filled with prompts, blurbs, and ideas for 70 different stories. I will write them, I will publish them, and then I'll come up with 70 more. If I do not write these stories, then they die with me and that is what frightens me the most. For some reason, I used to say to myself "The greatest stories are those never written" but I know this to be wrong. The greatest stories are those that are shared with and enjoyed by many readers, ideally with proper grammar, punctuation, and spelling. And maybe turned into a movie during my lifetime. I can't let these characters or their stories or their worlds die with me. They must outlive me and perhaps one day become public domain.

However, I cannot do that here on Facebook contrary to what I stated in an earlier Note. It is far too noisy and full of distractions, but it is useful as a key and also to keep track of friends so I will not shut everything down. Instead, I will drift away to a familiar place that's quiet as a tomb now and wield this fire burning within my chest to accomplish the one thing that I've always wanted. Those that wish to follow my progress already know the way back even if they don't remember.
Current Mood: determineddetermined
Yar McYarr
03 November 2014 @ 02:33 pm
Being reminded that LJ still exists, I logged into my dust covered account for the first time in almost five years. This diary mostly contains lamentations of failed romantic pursuits and ruminations of an ideal romantic relationship or sexual encounter. This diary is vague on some of the details relating to each and substitutes them with the flowery, honeyed words often found in my hormone fueled poems. This diary documents a formative period of time in my life when I was experimenting with love: falling into it, being in it, chasing after it, and fooling myself about it. Looking back at it all, I'm not certain that it wasn't a trap to lure in women and let their guard down.

That's not the writer that I set out to be in my youth and that's not what I'm going to let my legacy become. I'm going to reforge this tool and use it to correct the image the history already has of me. It matters not that not one of my friends still use this service as that it probably more of a boon. Should any of them blow away their own dust, I shall entertain those seeking entertainment and welcome all seeking remembrance of simpler days. For now, it is better that I write in this tomb; the quiet ruins of my youth.

I shall try my best to log in once daily to work this rust from my writing hand and I shall stray from vague poems to short stories. If I find success in doing this, perhaps I shall go back and rework some of my aforementioned formative pieces. Time heals all wounds, but editing can sometimes change the flow of time.

Waiting is.
Current Mood: determineddetermined
Yar McYarr
14 April 2010 @ 10:30 pm
This little piece beckoned for me to compose it before I could sleep last night. With the final word splashed up there, I crashed. Upon waking, I titled, dated, and prefaced this piece, which I feel, speaks for itself. I feel that the winds in my sail at present are good ones, for once in a great long time, and I cannot wait to see where they take me. As for how the piece is structured, don't ask me. This is how it wanted to be written and so it is.

Strolling Before Sleep

My eye lids are drooping, heavier each minute I try to fight them.
My mind is whirling like a frenzied hard drive, not helping my eye lids' cause.
It's trying to save every frozen image, every single second from tonight.
I would have loved to paused time, in any of those singular seconds.
I would have them drag on for hours, even weeks, in slow motion.
Sitting in slow time, living through moments of sweet embrace eternal.

Until time resumed normal speed.
Always ruining my fun, that one.
Never moving at the speed I want it.

Slow time, fast time, normal time...it was worth it.
Every single second of every single minute of every single hour,
and this day, the day prior, and the one before that.
This world could very likely burn tomorrow, and I'd die happy.
The story was just beginning and ending it so abruptly in such fashion would be awful.

Those soft, pouty lips and long, silky hair.
Slender, caressing fingers wrapped in mine.
Warm, brown eyes glisten in the night lights.

How I long for a much lengthier story, with no end in sight or worry of it.
Though, only time will tell what will become of our story.
Current Mood: indifferentindifferent
Yar McYarr
03 January 2010 @ 10:47 pm
2010 Preview

There are lots of people crafting notes remembering this past year, but I just can't bring myself to do it. Mostly because I've spent most of the year in agonizing pain, stuck in bed at my parent's house, or drugged out of my mind. I didn't sleep enough this past year and I thought way too much...much more than I usually do. Granted, I did re-learn how to walk again.

This year, will be different than previous years. What happens between now and New Years 2010 will govern the rest of my life; determine what exactly I am going to be when I grow up; whether I fail or succeed in writing, romance, and life in general.

In previous years, I have set for resolutions for the year, easily obtainable with a little effort yet never attained. For years now, I've wanted to see my name in print, but I haven't achieved that yet. In the last two years, I've not had a romantic relationship with a woman beyond that of short lived buddles. Too often do I wear the Jester's mask when I really want to wear the Beast's and rip out throats. Or the Head's and live like Alex DeLarge.

This is the year it changes....else it won't.
Yar McYarr
29 December 2009 @ 10:53 pm
I waver once more.

Being stuck in my parent's house, I am forced to bear witness to a marriage doomed from the start. Everyday. Especially on the days that I try to sleep in as only a hallway separates me from them and they just love to start fighting before the sun's waist touches the horizon. Obviously, the answer is to move out.

Yes, thank you. I'm working on that, even if it involves moving all of my worldly possessions in my tiny car, Fawkes, and going where ever the wind should take me. See, it's a little car and a decent storm might actually lift me up into the air and hopefully dump me in Laputa. *crosses fingers*

I'm posting this because this isn't the only marriage that I am forced to watch slowly degrade over time before the head finally dies on it's own accord taking the body with it. It sucks. Personally, I've always preferred the clean break. I don't believe that's going to happen in either case.

I mention this only because it's caused me to take stock of myself; think and overthink and counterthink. After watching this mockery of such a sacred sacrament, I'm no longer sure what I want from out a relationship. I thought that for sure I wanted to follow suit, find a nice girl, settle down, and then have as many kids as we possible could. However, I am now not sure that I can find someone with whom I could possibly put up with for the rest of my life or that would put up with me until either I croaked or they did. Two wrongs don't make a right, essentially, and do I ever have two examples of how to go about it wrong!

The worst part is...I'm starving.

I want some tiny morsel in which to sink my teeth into, but I also want something a bit more meaningful and longer lasting. CONUNDRUM! It's damn conflicting, it is.

I seek a resolution, but I feel that I won't be able to find that for a while. The landscape needs to shift around a little bit and until then...I'll just have to suck it up, I guess. Thanks for listening!
Yar McYarr
17 November 2009 @ 10:52 pm
I've done some thinking lately, but what's new, eh! I've been mostly considering the topics of love, romance, and relationships; in part inspired by Heinlein's "Time Enough For Love" and the several marriages that I've attended this year alone. It seems to me that everyone's finding a date to the big dance and I'm one of the few that's dragging his feet.

However, I'm starting to wonder if I even want to go to the dance.

It's not that I simply crave sex. No, I seek something deeper than sex; something more substantial. Sex is better than steak, but a man can live on steak. A man needs steak; something that fulfills and sustains yet does not diminish the man. This isn't limited to men either as women are not simply meat. They do have tender, delicious flesh that I long to sink my teeth into though.

Since I've started to read "Time Enough For Love", some of my views on the topic of love has changed. I still seek a partner-in-crime for a companion, that has not changed. Another thing that remains unchanged is that I have not found a companion. Presently, all of the non-sexual and non-romantic duties of a companion are being fulfilled by friends. They are a motley bunch and I wouldn't trade them for the world. Maybe a case of beer though. Seriously though, they're a good bunch, but I don't want to sleep with them if for no other reasons than it would screw up our dynamic and that I'd be gambling with a good friendship to potential lose them when it ended.

Yes, it would end at some point. All things end, especially mortal romantic relationships. Either we'd break it off before things got too serious or we'd go all the way until death parted us. However, that likelihood is far off in the future if at all.

So, where does this leave me? Wondering if I even want to go to the dance, that's where. If my friends can fulfill all but two duties of an companion and a man can live longer on steak than sex, then why waste my time seeking a companion? It's been sometime since I had a true companion and maybe that has something to do with it. Maybe not.

I'm at an impasse it seems. I could find a date to the dance or I could find someone to sit on my car and drink beer in the parking lot. Either is ideal, but I think I much rather prefer the latter.
Yar McYarr
29 October 2009 @ 03:34 am
This piece will pretty much speak for itself, so I don't believe that I need to preface it with anything but this. Enjoy!

So Hungry, Need Food
29 Oct 2009
3:34 AM

I am wavering, along the path I'm walking at present.
My mind is made and then quickly unmade, within hours.
Holding my empty soup cup out, I want wedding soup.
Or top grade steak, so put away your generosity.
My teeth are growing dull, and my tongue is bored.
Let me sharpen and entice them with your tender flesh.
Feel them sink smoothly through the meat, into veins.
May blood trickle into my hungry mouth, or squirt even.
Like a delicious orgasm and your artery the clitoris.
I will tease the fuck out of you, until the very last drop.
Living life to the lees, as I crush yours like a juice box.
Discarding what I do not require, in a similar fashion.
Oh, how I could really go for such excitement.
Come on over for a quick bite atleast, dear.
You might enjoy it, but you might never know.

She swirls the sediment and the pond goes murky.

I see you there, you pretty thing.
I want to taste your lips on mine;
feel your arms around my neck.
Our hearts beating a chest away.
Eyes open or eyes closed, I wonder,
as your breath tickles my face.
Curious fingers trace new curves,
and they run through new hair.
Those sweet eyes looking at me,
how I wish to climb inside and live,
but that's now how a knight lives.
To protect and hold ever so close,
to give sweet kisses on lips and hands,
but seldom be their one true prince.

Bittersweet endings . . . FUCK YOU!

I'm beginning to think that this is not the right path.
But, I'm one that "never knows best!" concerning myself.
Perhaps, Oscar was right with his thoughts on the matter:
"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.
Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself."
I want to give in to this hunger welling up inside,
but I also want continue on through this desert.
I mean, I only have to stay for forty days,
and forty nights, to test my worth as a man.
Though it feels like, so much longer.
Yar McYarr
I've been thinking recently. Don't panic! This isn't the end of the world. It's simply that I've had alot of time on hands recently being since my tibia and fibula were powderized. One might wonder what it is that I have been thinking of and I would ask them why they delight in poking a hive of angry hornets with their bare finger. In all seriousness though, I have pondered many things. Some are sheer nerdliness, but others pertain more to my current position in live. One of the major things that I lack at present is a companion.

Sex isn't my sole motivation for seeking companionship, but I will honestly admit that it is near the top of the list. I require more from a companion than merely sex. In fact, I've recently turned down two potential sex-only partners as well as stopped associating with them. You might remember that I sank "two fleets" awhile ago and even had to re-sink the second one. I had to be a total and absolute dick for either to understand that I wanted more than sex. I shall mention neither of their names, despite having unfriended and blocked them both.

Even before I broke my leg, I was confusedly searching for myself, or rather, what myself desired of the fairer gender. In doing so, I have left a trail of hurt and angry women stretching back for some distance. Some of forgiven me, some have not, as is their right. I'm not asking for anyone's forgiveness, but rather thanking them for experiences they gave as I plodded through seeking answers.

An odd statement, but I grow weary of the passive approach. I'm tired of waiting for game to crawl over into my trap and spring it. I wish to chase my prey down, sink my teeth into the soft flesh of it's neck, and revel in the life that sprays out. I wish to hunt! I want to charge through the woods with a blunderbuss screaming at the top of my lungs.

I, Franny J, wish for a standard relationship. I am not yet ready to be a father, as I am still a child myself. That's not to say that I don't want to have kids, just not anytime soon. I don't wish to contract an STD either, though I'm not equating children to STDs. I seek a partner in crime and not a submissive slave. It's one thing to be indecisive from time to time, but she should not become wholly dependent upon me unless we are to be married. On that topic, I will not seek someone's hand until I am atleast 28 and that's firm. Having witnessed several weddings in the past few years, I refuse to marry unless my career is solid and possess a comfortable nest egg to fall back upon. That is also firm.

Having similar interests is a definite plus, but not mandatory. Seriously, how many women enjoy sci-fiction/fantasy as well as video games/table-top games? For that matter, how many enjoy reading and writing and going to see musicals and exploring new social scenes as much as they enjoy staying in and lazy Sundays and cuddling under either a crisp autumn night or a cold and dreary winter day? Tattoos and piercings are hot yet not required, nor are the desire to smoke or drink occasionally in a social situation. If you can match my intensity for living life to the fullest and loving every second of it, congratulations, go to the head of the class.

I have an odd sense of humor, to put it simply, blending sarcasm and absurdism together without any concern for whom they may offend. You could liken me to Martin Silenus from Dan Simmons Hyperion or, for those that haven't read Simmons' Cantos, a satyr found at a bacchanal. Despite vulgarity or possible damage to your mental faculties, you will always have a smile on your face or a hardy laugh, sometimes at my expense. It is sometimes like looking at the face of Cthulu, the effect my jokes have on people. Disclaimer: You have thus been warned and therefore have waived all rights to legal reparations if you continue onward.

Any takers?
Yar McYarr
30 March 2009 @ 10:50 pm
The winds are changing. I can feel it. There's this strange feeling deep inside of me, about where my stomach is, but deeper. Almost like it's on another plane of existence, but it's somehow linked with my stomach, with the changing winds. This strange feeling is like a sinking, as if the planar link is being pulled at on ther other plane like gravity has suddenly increased.

This causes a shivering sensation to course from my lower spine, up to the base of head of my head when the spinal cord diverts into my skull, and then back to it's point of orgin. Not often, this traveling shiver causes an adverse watering to take place in my eyes. This is where the most troubling part of this all finally comes into play. As I wipe the tears from my eyes, visions of my parents laying montionless in coffins. Despite the beautiful arrangements of flowers that surround their angelic appearances, this causes more tears to roll forth; more images of their dead bodies to flash inside my mind.

This has happened a few times while driving. I had to pull over once because I was crying so hard that I couldn't see the road through the already poor visibility of a heavy rain. The images continue with me coming to the side of the parent that survives the other which is then followed by me standing over the grave of the second parent. The order of how they fall always changes.

I've been having these visions since I was 16 years when I un-officially became the executive my parent's estate. Just like that, I'm left in charge of my siblings and their well-being as if it were nothing more than I was babysitting them and my parents will be back after their date.

But that's not the case. It won't be the case.

I do not fear my own death and I hope that it is both glorious and honorable, but the thought of living without my parents there...is sometimes too unbearable. I've been blessed with an writer's talent, so I envision things with great vividness and detail. I've already lived through the death of my parents numerous times, but I've only just now realized why they keep occuring. I wasnt getting the message. I wasn't so much afraid of my own death, but how my cherished loved ones will go on living their lives while coping with my death. I'm afraid for how my son or daughter is going to be able to stand up after they've lost one of the two people who have always been there for them.

The strangest part of this all....this is the reason that I'm afraid to let a lover to get too close...because I'm afraid of starting a timer to the day that my children will need me most and they have to throw dirt on my face.

This took me nearly 2 hours to write. This has been the most difficult thing that I have written. I hope this will help me deal with the situation at hand. I hope this will help me deal with the situation to come.

Because I've found someone that's interesting and attractive and...she gives me butterflies, but I think that I should probably deal with this first. Sure, we might only date for a period of time, but there are some good what-if situations out there and it doesn't hurt to have a plan for the future.
Yar McYarr
It's been a long time since I typed up an actualy post. In fact, I've really only used Facebook as an tool to dispersing and storing my recently created poems. Well, there was that last post where I posted sixteen random facts about myself and probably scared or confused a lot of people.

Do not worry! A knife is not a deadly weapon in my hands. However, a spoon, a banna, and a gallon of axel grease are. RUN! *snicker*

Back on topic...New Year's is my favorite holiday of them all. Thanksgiving is a close second but only because it is a holiday in which one gorges themselves stupid on delicious turkey flesh and then passes out. However, the thing that I truly enjoy most about New Year's is that you are alive when a new year arrives. A new year that is what you make it, a clean slate as it were. In the months leading up to it, families gather around to share one another's company and recount the past. All of the good, all of the bad, and all of the funny. For most of the month of Decemeber, I contemplate the path that I just carved through the present year; thus far through my life. I use the past as a tool for bettering myself. I learn from previous mistakes and try to approach challenges from a different angle. By the time that the last midnight of the year finally spins around...I'm ready to reforge myself anew, to throw off the weight of my history and face the oncoming year.

This year was no different. I have made many mistakes while trying new approaches, this past year, to the same issues. I have damaged some good friendships because of my decisions. I'm sorry for what I've done to us and I'd like to amend for my wicked ways, if you'll let me. You know who you are, so I won't bother bringing any more light to this matter by tagging you. To some of you, I did a grave injustice by crossing lines that shouldn't have been crossed. My offer of mending is mostly for you to accept or decline as you see fit. I'll understand if you believe it healthier to continue living life without my shadow burdening your door.

I've discovered my purpose in life, and in doing so, have come to learn why the words my Parrot uttered so long ago, are absolutely correct: "Fishy, it would be very difficult for anyone to be with you in a relationship." Ha! This past summer, these very words drove me mad. Any possibility of a relationship that sprung up was doomed to failure from the start. It was an unseemingly neverending cycle...or was it. The truth was, I had what I needed all along, minus sexual closeness and release. I ask you this: What is the difference between a friend and a lover? Sex! You don't have sex with your friends...unless you've worked out some sort of an agreement, but that is a tangent from the main topic. All this time that I've been searching for companionship and I didn't even realize that I had found that with my best friend and now former room mate...as gay as that may sound.

When he moved out, it felt like a break up; like I had somehow lost one of the most important parts of my life. When people talk of soul mates, they automatically ASSume a proper balance of everything like Ying and Yang, male and female. Those types should look for the secret message that I left you in the last sentence. We were Water Brothers well before we even knew the term existed. I love him as much as I do Jon or Ben or my own father, but it is platonic, or rather familial. Water is as thick as blood. Soul mates aren't necessarily a romantic pairing of a male and female counterparts who properly balance one another out. Soul mates don't necessarily get married, have kids, and live happily ever after.

I had many opportunities this pas