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Literature
The Places You Found Love
Everyone is biologically programmed to find babies cute. It's an evolutionary imperative, because the rational thing to do when you've got a screaming, shitting dependant taking up your food, is to kill it, and we need something to stop us doing that. It's also why people are generally attracted to big eyes and smooth skin - because they're characteristics of children.
And I'm not saying this to detract from the beauty of parenthood, or to make you sad, I'm saying it to point out that this fact doesn't make a baby's laugh any less wonderful. And I don't think the source of anything can make it less so.
This is why I can point out that any form of love isn't God or fate or destiny, it's that if two people have a strong emotional attachment, their children are more likely to survive.
Atomic bombs are beautiful.
So I will say that the me I am now, will and always has been feeling what I feel, but that sentence doesn't even make sense until we consider that time is just another spacial dim
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:icontohroe:Tohroe 4 5
Literature
The Reasons We Die
What I meant to say was that sometimes I just stare at the cigarette in my hands and beg for it to stop messing around and just kill me already.
But I figured you don't want to hear that.
:iconTohroe:Tohroe
:icontohroe:Tohroe 4 1
Literature
The Shifting Nature of Reality
You asked me, "In these dreams, what does it look like?" I told you it looks different every time. Sometimes it's like a million feathers falling, sometimes it's like snow, sometimes it's like little stones, sometimes like ash, sometimes like a fine sand blowing across the hills. It's always silent. It falls around me but it never touches me. It never sticks. I told you sometimes I see dim figures walking in the distance through all the falling white. I told you I wish one would turn around and come to me. I wish one had your face. I wish the pink of your cheeks and blue of your eyes would appear to me unveiled from out of the drift. But the sad small figures don't turn around. They walk on, shoulders low, and disappear. I just watch them. You said, "I'm here now," and touched my hand. "I'm here now."
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:icontohroe:Tohroe 6 0
Literature
The Overuse of Metaphores
You smile like it's an accident that comes without an apology.
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:icontohroe:Tohroe 1 0
Literature
The Time Gone By
Tick tock. All day. Every day is tick tocking by. There is no clock in your office that ticks or tocks, but you can hear the tick tock in your head. Tick. That's another second of your life gone, you think. Tock. That's one more second waiting for the man to tell you what to do. Tick. I'm a thinker, you think. Tock. Time to be a doer. Tick. You walk into your boss' office. Tock. I quit.
The clock stops.
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:icontohroe:Tohroe 2 2
Literature
The Nuance
Play it one more time please, I need to hear it again. I need to make sure that its the only sound in my head. Play it again for me, I want to hear it once more. I want to make sure the only sound is correct. I don't want to hear that stare again. I don't want to see those words. I'll play the part again, I need to play it again. I need to make sure that every note is right. Give me a second to rehearse that part once more, I haven't been playing it right this entire time. I know it might sound right to you, but it doesn't sound right to me. I can't hear those words anymore. I never want to see that stare again. I have to keep playing. I never want to hear that again.
:iconTohroe:Tohroe
:icontohroe:Tohroe 2 2
Literature
The Art of Finding Flaws
Maybe that's all it means, to grow up; to watch your heroes become human, right before your eyes.
:iconTohroe:Tohroe
:icontohroe:Tohroe 7 4
Literature
the Millennia Later
Desolation has its own stark beauty. It's in the limbs of dead trees twisting up, pleading at the grey sky. It's in the air, cold with a faint hint of smoke and the barest breeze that stirs up the dust at your feet. The white-grey ash falls like snowflakes, dusting your hair, your coat, your mask. You catch one of the flakes and it crumbles between your gloved fingers. The ground is packed as hard as concrete under your boots as you turn your back on this cold, still world. You look up; the moon is barely visible. You will carry that memory with you as you go back underground. Mankind no longer has use for the stars.
:iconTohroe:Tohroe
:icontohroe:Tohroe 3 0
Literature
The Loveless Smudges
You never spoke about it, but I know you knew your father wasn't dead because each week you would receive a check with his signature. He can write, at least. When you were younger, I always watched you, waiting by the letter box or, if you forgot to wait, you careering across the yard at first sight of the postal carrier. You would study the envelopes for the old man's blocky handwriting. If it appeared, you would tear that bastard open. You pored over the checks, especially the John Hancock. You became a student of each loop and whorl; a professor of every dot or cross. If a curve became unexpectedly thick or severe or even, god forbid, broken, you would ruminate for days. What did these imperfections in his automatic mean? Did they indicate longing? A moment's hesitation? Was he angry? Upset? I imagine most children learn to read their fathers' moods from fatherly faces, paternal smiles, scowls, curious grins; you had the strange way ink dries on paper.
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:icontohroe:Tohroe 3 0
Occupy London :icontohroe:Tohroe 30 1
Literature
The Ending of Lives
Just then, a suspiciously bullet-sized hole tore apart several billion rather crucial neurons in his brain, causing this line of thought, and indeed the entirety of his flesh, to halt abruptly and not continue for the rest of time.
:iconTohroe:Tohroe
:icontohroe:Tohroe 4 0
Literature
The Place Under The Trees
You always brought me to the same spot when you wanted to talk. The conversation would mostly consist of minute statements followed by gruelling silence. The cold air would be tense around our ears and lips, as if we knew some killer statement would strike and we would change these words to mean something bad? good? Who knew at this point? You puffed away at your cigarette in the snowy spot we picked as the silence remained. We never did talk that day.
:iconTohroe:Tohroe
:icontohroe:Tohroe 0 0
Literature
Untitled, as of yet
Did you think I was cool when you met me? I worried about that. I worried that you would think I was too much when you met me. Because I was listening to Patti Smith while we watched Tim Burton movies, because I was too high to think straight and fell asleep all the time and wore those fake topsiders and hated everybody in my classes. I worried that you would think I was trying to be cool, and think that I was failing because all of those things were pretty not cool.
But I didn't care a lot and you said "So you're pretty eccentric huh?" when you met me and I said, "I don't think so, no?" And I was confused. So we just danced at Sundance and drank Stella Artois and kissed like hands trying to hold each other.
:iconTohroe:Tohroe
:icontohroe:Tohroe 2 0
Literature
The Infant
There is a wail of inarticulate need, that is a child's first grasping after language, for sounds that mean 'wet' or 'food' or 'pin'. There's a shriek of terror – that there is no one here and that there may never be anyone here ever again. There's that latitudinous wah-wah, not unlike the call to mosque in the middle east or improvised song; this is creative crying, fun crying, from babies who while not especially unhappy have failed to register that we like to constrain weeping to conditions of distress.
Perhaps the saddest of all is the muted, habitual mewl of a baby who may be perfectly miserable but who, whether through neglect or prescience, no longer anticipates reprieve – who, in infancy, has already become reconciled to the idea that to live is to suffer.
:iconTohroe:Tohroe
:icontohroe:Tohroe 1 0
Literature
The Crooked
The way you tilted your head when you were listening, when you were smiling, when you were happy, when you were sad, when you were tired, when you were crying. The way your head was never on quite straight.
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:icontohroe:Tohroe 4 0
Literature
The Drowning of Sorrows
And you say that you're okay, but you're sitting there drinking, wearing that suit like armour.
:iconTohroe:Tohroe
:icontohroe:Tohroe 2 0

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Journal
~The Madman by Khalil Gibran
~This is the intro to one of my favorite books, 'The Madman' by Khalil Gibran.
The Madman - His Parables and Poems
You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus: One day, long
before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all
my masks were stolen,--the seven masks I have fashioned an worn in
seven lives,--I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting,
'Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves.'
Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear
of me.
And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top
cried, 'He is a madman.' I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed
my own naked face for the first time. For the first time the sun
kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for
the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I
cried, 'Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks.'
Thus I became a madman.
And I have found both freedom of loneliness and the safety from
being understood, for those
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Zen :iconananyana:Ananyana 69 27 Wonderfull world :iconodeliatoder:OdeliaToder 32 2 Enso :iconizzy-t:Izzy-T 11 5 Freedom :icontyt2000:tyt2000 47,352 6,057 Noam Chomsky - Resistance :iconshamantrixx:shamantrixx 29 10 Mencken on Metaphysics.. :iconrationalhub:rationalhub 13 6 Dave Grohl and Kurt Cobain - Another Day :iconchrisbrown55:chrisbrown55 60 7 Bertrand Russell on Capitalism :iconrationalhub:rationalhub 33 2 The Last Unicorn :iconmelkatsa:melkatsa 23,730 2,097

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deviantID

Tohroe
Nightmares, Insomnia, Cigarettes
United Kingdom
Steel and concrete and brick and violence; that's how I was raised.

What is there to say? I'm a self important, angsty teenage pseudo-philosopher. I spend my weekends under a desk with a blanket over it, listening to Wagner, drinking whiskey and reading Dostoevsky, Nietzsche, Kafka, Wilde, Eliot...

Current Residence: The Womb
Favourite genre of music: Rock/Alternative/Classical/PUNK
MP3 player of choice: So long as it plays music, I'm fine with it,
Shell of choice: Shell service stations do relativly nice coffee. You know, for a service station that is.
Wallpaper of choice: What? Wallpaper? Do you guys REALLY want to know that? 'Cause that's a bit creepy.
Skin of choice: Well personally I'm white, not that I really have a choice.
Favourite cartoon character: Jahib the Jewish Terrorist
Personal Quote: "Why is all the 6oClock news on at the same time?"
Interests
I cry way too easily recently. Even over stupid things, things that don't even upset me. Like today after class my Philosophy teacher pulled me aside to have a chat about not calling people morons during debate, and acting as though their point is valid even if it clearly presents a logical fallacy, and I was just spending the whole conversation working so hard to hold back tears. I don't even know why; it's not like it's the first time I've had these conversations with various teachers. Or the other day when my mum told me to stop twitching at the dinner table – something which, I swear, I can't help – and I had to go upstairs because the fact I can't stop doing it just frustrates me so much, and I won't ever let her see me upset.

I don't know. I just think that I've spent too long looking for a quick fix for something that's been breaking for years, and now that lost time is catching up to me. I feel like I've wasted all my early adolescence and the days just keep slipping away way too fast and there's not a single damn thing I can do about it. I want something to validate all the choices I've made. But I've made some stupid fucking choices. Maybe if I start being honest with myself I'll know how to be honest with other people. I might start sleeping more, swearing less. Fuck, I might even finish that book. But I don't have much faith in any of that.

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:iconleiandlove:
LeiAndLove Featured By Owner Oct 11, 2012  Student Filmographer
Thankee for the fav! :glomp:
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:iconatheosemanon:
AtheosEmanon Featured By Owner May 22, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
thanks for the fave of the atheist leftist answer your questions
[link]
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:iconscheinbar:
scheinbar Featured By Owner Feb 14, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
thanks :thanks::thanks::nod:
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:iconfigueline:
figueline Featured By Owner Dec 31, 2011
Thank you !
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:iconbaalsoulslayer:
BaalSoulslayer Featured By Owner Dec 29, 2011  Hobbyist
Thank you very much for the :+fav:! :dance:
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:iconbeeinthebottle:
beeinthebottle Featured By Owner Dec 27, 2011   Writer
Thanks for the fave! :)
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:iconandyserrano:
AndySerrano Featured By Owner Oct 24, 2011  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
:icondsfav1plz::icondsfav2plz::icondsfav3plz: on Philosopher's Walk. If you ever get the chance, this is one of the most beautiful walks you can take in Kyoto, Japan. [link]
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:iconandyserrano:
AndySerrano Featured By Owner Oct 24, 2011  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
:icondbthx1::icondbthx2::icondbthx3: on Infant Feeding Koi. It's great you enjoy the fine art and tranquility of Koi. [link]
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:iconjackspades64:
JackSpades64 Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for the fave
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:iconucieczkaodwolnosci:
ucieczkaodwolnosci Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2011
Thank you
:hug:
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