bubbling mass of HYSTERIA

Fri, 07 Jan 2005 08:12:08 GMT

I actually got a new LJ: nonamecat

Michael/Ian

The effects of alcohol were strong. The effects of Ian were stronger. It was worse than your typical intoxication and hangover, it was like being smothered by a blanket of chloroform, harsh enough to make you dizzy and pass out, but not in a bad way. It was more like falling down and down and down into a bottomless pit, but knowing that you had a safe landing, a bed of comfort, a feather pillow, an Ian. Michael was so amazingly smothered by that cloth of Ian, that he was choking in Ian’s expensive, perfectly Aussie cologne. Michael supposed that this was a normal, mutual feeling of all people under the influence; unable to think clearly, impaired sense of judgment, can’t walk straight. Another similarity Ian had with alcohol was a terrible and inevitable addiction. That was the one thing Michael was sure of, his addiction.

Being near Ian, Michael thought ridiculous and flighty thoughts about potentially starting a group called IA: Ian-holics Anonymous. He was sure that that Van den Hoogenband would join, that fairy, and the Grant Hackett guy, as well, but of course, Michael would be president. He would prepare a speech and everything, walk nervously up to the podium, clear his throat in an officious manner, and state painfully: I…I-I am completely and utterly obsessed with Ian Thorpe, and people would clap, and nod their heads in assessment. Then, Michael would wake up from his daydream to see Ian speaking to him, and asking if her were all right. Times like those, Michael really wanted to either kiss or punch that guy, that perfect Ian Thorpe. Or maybe both.

Michael even began unintentionally/intentionally stalking Ian, that Ian guy. He didn’t know whether he just happened to be in all the places as Ian, at the same time, or if Ian was the one potentially following him. Or maybe It was just a really really big misunderstanding and coincidence. Either way, Michael didn’t feel that his popularity on Ian’s Michael-o-meter was growing any by their continuous and suspicious run-ins.

The first time, Michael was standing in line to buy a coffee at a nearby Starbucks, when Ian walked in. They nodded their heads in acknowledgment of each other, and after standing for a few minutes in awkward silence, Michael said, “Caffeine.” Ian smiled and nodded.

The second time, they ran into each other at a celebration party. It was impossible to really see anyone through all the lights and music, but Michael saw Ian. “I love this song!” Michael bellowed to him. Ian nodded and smiled.

The last time, Michael was just outside room at the Olympic Village, and getting ready to leave. He bent down to pick up his bags, and upon standing up, he saw…well, Ian Thorpe. Perfectly groomed and standing directly in front of Michael, Ian held out his hand and said pleasantly “It was a pleasure swimming with you Michael.” Michael blushed, a very intoxicated and positively glowing blush, and said Thanks, you too. He was falling and falling, but also absolutely captured and captivated by Ian’s warm, swirling alcohol eyes. Smiling at Michael through those eyes, he gave him quick friendly hug, and began, almost nervously, “You know, maybe we can get together sometime…”

“Y-Yeah, that’d be great!” Michael was nodding so enthusiastically that he couldn’t feel his neck muscles.

“Ok.” Ian smiled a shy, relieved smile, and started to walk off.

Deciding in a split second to call after him, Michael picked up his bags, and ran to catch up, giddy and paralyzed with Ian, again, and leaving all thoughts of falling, addiction, and accidental stalking behind.

Sun, 14 Nov 2004 19:38:21 GMT

je suis grosse

Sun, 31 Oct 2004 02:53:33 GMT

Title: Demon-boy
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Just realized that it's not specified, so oyu can let your imagination wander, but i was thinking Phelpedo. :]
Summary: It's Halloween and there's music
Disclaimer: Don't own them, or Halloween.

*Is in need of Halloween fics so badly that she has decided to write them herself!*

Spotted halfway across the dance floor, was a demon. It was wearing black, and beckoned to you with honey words.

Velvet black-stretched-across-taut-living-skin-flesh; covering every inch as a tight, second layer.

Eyes with caked on eyeliner and mascara bore into yours and you wonder if it knows you. Black gloved hands manipulate and invite you to join; brushing over its chest, enticing, alluring, and you can’t resist its charm. You’re morbidly curious.

Go farther down the rabbit hole, Alice; you’re almost there…

It doesn’t move with the music, the music moves according to it, controlling it, just as it does you.

Can’t turn back.

It Halloween and you think What the hell…It’s Halloween…

What the hell…

You’re halfway there now, can’t turn back. Positively not. It would be rude.

And you’re face to face with it. Your sin, your temptation, your condemnation, your one-way ticket to hell, and you can’t possibly turn back.

Velvet black eyes bore into you again, this time smoky with the heat, the music and you.

“Let’s dance” it whispers.

And you can’t escape it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Liked it? Loved it? Not your cup of tea?

Mon, 25 Oct 2004 06:38:26 GMT

ugh. i think i just realized why i'm so ugly/think i'm ugly. you know how there's always the 'inner beauty' thing? i know that for a long time now, i've always been really ugly and jealous and just horrible to everybody. Mebbe it just makes me think that i'm ugly and as a result, get ACTUALLY ugly. this is so disgusting. i hat emyself. i've become exactly what i hate and it's horrible. since i was young, i never wanted to be a sterotypical princess, really stupid but really pretty. i always only wanted to be myself. this year, i realized that i HATE myself, so how is that possible? i'm always going to be UGLY inside/outside, on top whatver, i'm ugly, and i can't change it anymore than i can change BEING myself. damn me. i HATE MYSELF

fuck fuck fuck. my brother's home, and i like/hate it. it's like, i KNOW what he's thinking about me. i'm just paranoid and a miserable fuck is all, but it's like EVERYTHING he does is mocking me. i know he doens't, because why would he waste the time and he doesn't even care/know thati exist, so he's unaware of all this. small things, i keep thinking the worst of . he's like 'yeah, my girlfriend's 90 lbs' while his real meaning is 'my sister is a fatass. it's fucking disgusting, get lyposuction'. and this other time 'i hate it what you takl to people, andyou know that they're not interested' of COURSE that's me. i'm not even being dramatic right now, i KNOW it's true, i'm such an antisocial person thatHE knows it, and I know it. god. why do i suck. why does he have to be the one to point it out? he fucked up his high school and doens't even DO anything. gets drunk, has fun. i'm miserable and i study a lot and i try in school. i'll probably go to a better college, but be SO FUCKING MISERABLE that i'd want to die. my borhter will end up beoing happy. because that's how life is. he'll just always be better than me, in one owa of another. i wish i could forget about him, he serioulsy ruins my life, even when he doesn't even live here anymore and we don't even tlak.

Fri, 22 Oct 2004 09:38:32 GMT

i hate:

being bitter
being jealous
being stupid
being materilistic
a.k.a. being me

Wed, 20 Oct 2004 23:47:54 GMT

i keep wishing that i am somebody who's NOT me. anybody, i just hate myself. i think it's just because i want to make myself known, i keep acting like a total retard, i never shutup, i think that i'm funny or amusing or something, but it's all so stupid. i'm so stupid. sad thing is, i'm the opnly one with this problem, no one else does. jamie, gelsey, sumita, kate, joan, maddy, krista. i need to fucking shutup! shutupshutup and stop being such a bitch and retard to my friends. i swear, i don't even know why thye hang around me..or is it me who doens't stop bothering them? i should try acoiding them for a week or something, only i know they wouldn't care and i'd be the desperate one. i keep saying that i can be alone, and that i like it that way, but i know that i won't likve one second being alone. damn myself. i wish i was perfect, damn damn damn damn dman damn damn dman mdna me. damn dman dman madn damnadmndmnamn msnmadnm ndmansdmme. i hate myselfffff. all mo fmy firends are better and i suck. thye're in chamber and i suck. they hav a little group separate, and i suck. i wish i wish i wish i iwsh i wish i wish i wish i wish i wish. i suck i suck i suck i suck i suck i suck i suck. i need to get a fucking life. so i guess my brother was right. i'm always going to be a loser, i'm always going to be a loner, i'm alwys going to need a life, i'm always going to be fat. i cant' change that and it pisses me off.

you will always SUCK

you will always be a LONER

you will never have FRIENDS

you will always be a LOSER

you will always be FAT.

yeah...i know.

Fri, 15 Oct 2004 03:05:30 GMT

i hate it when you don't know whther people hate you or not. i guess, if you're so disgusted with something/someone, don't hang around then, let them know right away, cuase if you don't, its just sucky for the hated person(s) . gah jamie. well, how i was i suppoed to know that i was being stupid, immature and just plain pervy. i guess i just assumed that that's how the fic was going to end, but hey, i'm a retarded fucking retard.

my clothes are seruously getting too small for me. i think i'm going to cry.

YOU FUCKING FAT-ASS, FAT FAT FAT FAT FAT FAT FAT FAT FAT. GET SOME FUCKING EXERCISE YOU FUCKING FAT COW. STOP FUCKING EATING YOU FUCKIN FAT FAT FAT FAT FAT FAT PIECE OF FAT.

Tue, 12 Oct 2004 07:52:03 GMT

i'm getting so fat it's not even funny. it's actually noticable now, and i'm going to DIE! well, hopefully not that, more than BURY MYSELF and sleep for a thousand years. If i don't burn out junior year, i'll ....i dunno, do stuff. it's late, and i need sleep. but i need to rant first. it's so stupid how people are saying stuff like 'yes 89.99% students are suffering from backpains..." and blah blah blah...well, if the text books weren't so damn big. and also it's like 'adolsecents should get at leeast 1/2 hour exercise per day' and we're all like ' are you kidding? where the FUCK do we have the time??" damn them.

gUHHHhhh also i dunno what to do about david thing. i don't even really know why i'm mad him. he's just kinda stupidsoemtimes, but it's not big. i dunno, i'm probably a bitch. i had this dream yesterday where he talked to me, and i was relaly happy. my fault for being a little harsh, his fault for being mr. retardio. yeah, joking around with girl friends about who's ass is hotter, who they'd rather see have sex, NOT soemthing you WANT to tell them, dumass. jeez. blah. imiss him though. :[. i'm such a loser, i need....i dunno....a fast metabolism, therefore i can mope, but still be un-fat. there. problems solved.

Mon, 11 Oct 2004 06:00:54 GMT

by far one of the lamest entries i've ever done, but GOD i wish i had a love life, *rant rant rant*. i think it's so stupid that one of my friends thinks that her's is nonexistant, when she KNOWS that they might have something. She likes to pretend to be the drama queen, i duno why, to make her feel like an individual? to feel like she has the right to mope? i know i do too, and that i'm a complete hypicrit, but that makes it worse, cause i know that if i had remotely an inch or attention from someone from the opposite (or same) sex, i'd be doing the same thing. DAMMIT and DAMn me. alos, i'm getting fat again, since i keep FUCKING EATING FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKINGTASTIC! AHHH. i don't have ANy time to work out, i'm becoming a whale again adn i hate myself. again. wheee. but i cna't tell people, cuz they're just going to get pissed and annoing, an di know that thats why i have THIS user name. W00T my ranting user name. also, i'm not bothering with spelling, since it's crap anyways. DAMNIT. h'ok what else is there? as yes, my ugly face. it's so fat and pudgy and ugly and shit. i hate it. i hate how everyone looks good but me and how i'm so fucking ugly and fat and fat and fat and fat dna fat dan fatdndtddtsdntndsntasdntsdtklj.

i hate myself for hating others for stupid materialstic things, and i hate our stupif materialistic world and people are who are materialistic and mYSELF as well. now i need to do hw cuz my dad's SCREAING LIKE A GIRL AGAIN. AHHHH.

Tue, 05 Oct 2004 02:13:50 GMT

So i just come home, and my cat starts like...coughing and hacking. i figure that it's only a hairball, so i ignore it. BAD IDEA. stupid but adorable Robbie barffed all over the fucking carpet.

Sat, 02 Oct 2004 09:02:13 GMT

“Ohhhhh! Ian!! Ian I love this song!”

IdoNOTthinkhe’scuteidoNOTthinkhe’scuteidoNOTthinkhe’scute

“Do you even know what it’s called?”

“Of course! It’s…..um…Galileo.”

Ian sighed. Mental note to self: NEVER letting Pieter raid his CD collection. EVER. AGAIN. Or rather…Never going on a road trip with adorable Pieter EVER. AGAIN!!! Adorable …. DAMMIT!

“No Pieter, it’s called Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“….That’s what I said, Ian.”

Ian sighed again. Pieter just giggled and pressed the <<back button on his car stereo, promptly restarting the song. Why am I going through this again? Oh right..because I ENJOY HIS COMPANY! Screamed Ian’s subconscious. He wanted to stab it with sharp objects……his subconscious that is. Not Pieter. Well, sometimes Pieter.

“C’mon Ian, sing with me! Mommmmaaaaaaaaaaa….just killed a mannnnn….” Pieter howled. This was one of those times.

Ian couldn’t see how he could stand this defiling of the Queens’ name. Blasphemy it was. Blasphemy……

Pieter began to bounce.

“Scaramouche! Scaramouche! Can you do the fandango!?”

Ian squeezed his eyes shut. He knew what was coming…

“GALILEO! Galileo GALILEO! Galileo Galileo figaro! Magnificooooooooooooooo”

Yes ……… Pieter trying to hit all five harmonies….not a good thing.

“Sing along Ian—BISMILLAH! No! We will not let him go!”

Pieter’s voice went up a few octaves…

“Let him goooooooo”

Oh. God. It wasn’t like Ian didn’t sing along atrociously with the song, but at least he did so in the privacy of his own room. (The fact that he did it in front of the mirror using a razor as a micrphone was irrelevant.)

“Beelzebub has a devil put aside for meeeee…..”

Pieter’s voice went higher

“For meeee…..”

and higher…

“For MEEEEEEEEE!!!!”

And this time, Ian could hear the dingoes howling.

Pieter began air-strumming an imaginary guitar, head-banging, limbs flying every which way…kind of dangerous and psychotic, really.

“So you think you can stone me and spit in my eyeeee!” imaginary strum strum strum

”So you think you can love me and leave me to dieeeee……ohhhhhhhh” strum strum..

“Ooohhh…baby, can’t do this to me baby…”

More head-banging from the Dutchman. More painful grimaces from the Australian. More blaring guitars. More dingoes howling, and the like.

“oooohh yeah…ooooohh yeah…….”

Makehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstophecan’tDOthistobohemianrhapsodymakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstopmakehimstop---

The song began to slow, and return back to its original tempo. With the piano…. Peaceful….Thank god.

It’salmostoverit’salmostoverit’salmostoverit’salmsotovert’salmostoverit’salmostoverit’salmostoverit’salmsotovert’salmostoverit’salmostoverit’salmostoverit’salmsotovert’salmostoverit’salmostoverit’salmostoverit’salmsotovert’salmostoverit’salmostoverit’salmostoverit’salmsotover--

Pieter turned to stare him directly in the eye, and sang the last line of the song in a delicate tenor, grasping Ian’s hand for dramatic emphasis.

“Nothing really matters……

Nothing really matters…..to me……”

Ian blinked.

…….

……..

ohmygoshthatwasfantastic.

Fri, 01 Oct 2004 04:57:55 GMT

...yeah, so i'm new on LJ and all. I actually only joined becasue of the communities. wheeeeeee