August 13th, 2006


(no subject)

Lucas by Kevin Brooks is really quite a very good book. I recommend it to all of you. It's not a hard read, only around 360 pages, not complicated or hard to understand (except the choices of the plot line are a bit of a poser the first time you read it -- the second time through everything makes complete sense, though). It's good.

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In other, completely unrelated news, Mother told me that I should spread this around the internet and perhaps it would become popular or something. So here I am, spreading it throughout the world. Dirty innuendos and all.

If you would like to copy and post this in your blog, feel free. If not, whatever man.

First of all, if you smoke, don't. If you are offended by this, sorry. But not really.

Because smoking is stupid. You can get the same sensation from drinking hot chocolate. Or breathing in the heat of a warm fire.

Except those two aren't addictive and don't blacken your lungs, or the lungs of those around you. Except perhaps the fire thing, because you could actually breathe in the fire and then burn everything up.

My point is this.

Every time someone walks past me who is smoking, I let them walk an eensy, little bit farther, then I cough.

Not too loudly, but loud enough so that they will hear my cough. They may think it is just me clearing my throat, or that I have a cold. But truly, I am coughing because I feel as though I have to.

I am not telling them that smoking is bad and that they are helping to contribute to the growing problems of cancer in the world. I am not telling them that they are killing themselves, and if they are suicidal, that's stupid too.

I am not telling them any of these things.

I'm just coughing.

But my cough may, just may remind them of the harm that they're doing. That they're killing me. Slowly, they're bringing my death closer.

But I'm not saying it.

I'm just coughing.

And it makes me feel better. One cough and I feel like I've told them something. Without being rude, without being pushy, without being out of line or dumb. I just coughed. But I did something.

So, I don't know, perhaps next time someone walks past you who is smoking, cough. Or cough a couple times if your friend is smoking.

If you want to talk to the person, far be it from me to stop you.

But if you feel like it's rude...

Just cough. Once is enough. It'll make you feel better. Maybe.
  • Current Mood
    pensive pensive

(no subject)

Alright, I found someone whom I can call deliberately good looking without feeling deranged.


What the hell is that man thinking, looking so gorgeous? With that smile? Honestly! Someone's going to assassinate him for being so outrageously handsome!

It's a shame, really. On top of the accent. You know I always like a good accent. Majorly Irish, English or Australian. Mostly just English. I'm prejudiced. So kill me.

In other news, it was my brother Luke's birthday today. He's twenty.

Maybe I'll go to England and be an actress there. So that I can meet a nice English man with a wonderful English accent.

Pish posh. Cheerio, I'm off to take a wash, loves. Orange chocolate and all that.
  • Current Mood
    pleased pleased

(no subject)

No doubt about it. Lucas is definitely, by far, my favorite book.

Which is strange. Because it has a really sad ending. Horrendously sad, actually. And I usually absolutely abhor stories with sad endings. That goes for movies, books, life, everything. But Lucas is different. It's... indescribable. Wonderful would be wrong. Incredible as well. Amazing, not so much. Touching, I guess, but that makes it sound like something it's not.

I miss people, and things, and emotions, and situations. I long for people, and things, and emotions, and situations. I have people, and things, and emotions, and situations.

And everything happens. And nothing happens. And something happens.

And then, sometimes, you go to sleep.

And then, sometimes, you dream.

I'm going to go play some Mario Kart. I don't know why. It's become a routine with me, Mario Kart before bed.

Probably because it's so incredibly stupid.

Well, there you are.

I feel silly for not owning my own copy of Lucas. But it seems as though I only ever read it when I have absolutely no money to call my own.

Of course, I've only read it twice.
  • Current Mood
    blah blah