I'm pretty sure that in the last post, I posted that one of the things that I do is rap and make music and do stuff like that! Today, I've been in my "studio" making songs. I'm working on a mixtape, and when I'm done with the mixtape, I'm sending it to TMG Music Group to get signed. Like seriously. I wanna make money off of this stuf haha.
My Mixtape drops July 5th! Spread the word, but at the same time, keep it on the DL haha.
Here's the album artwork. It's called "Dope Thoughts: Hail From Imagination Land."
Yeah I know that's a long ass title, but whatever. I really spent a while thinking of that. I spent a while on the album artwork. I've been working since about April on all of the songs. I'm super hyped for when everything's done. I'm just waiting for a few more dudes to send me there verses for collabs! I need to finish 2 music videos for it too!
Well I recorded 3 songs today. The Prayer- Original by Band of Horses (The Funeral); Sampled by Kid CuDi in The Prayer. That inspired me to make this. I just wrote it today. It took me a while to finish it. I'd love some feedback <33 I'mma Make Sure- A song I wasn't planning to record, but I saw a contest on Talenthouse and I had to hop on the bad wagon! Took me a while to make though because I didn't know what to do haha Graduated- A song I've been working on for a while now finally done!
Well you guys can tell me what you think. I think they're decent! Goodnight!
It was a summer day in South Dakota was fit to be an Icelandic winters day. Unlike most summers no one one was swimming in the icy lake in front of the cottage.
Benj and I were in his S10 fire red pick-up truck. We cruised down the high-way with not a care in the world. The wind combed it’s fingers through my hair while I tapped my hand on the outside body of the truck to some country song of unknown origin.
“Hey Davie,do you want to make this trip longer?” said Benj as we were about to turn off to the cottage.
“Yeah, why not,” I said. A longer drive was infinitely better then a day of chores which awaited me like a death knocking at a old man’s door.
The truck meandered across the high way and made a right turn to the sand pit lakes. Popping sounds came form under the truck as it moved at a snails pace over the yellow brownish gravel road. After we turned in we saw a turtle, but not just any turtle, the beast of all turtles.
This thing was a monster. He was about Godzilla sized. When I asked Benj. “What does it eat?” He replied, “Other turtles and slow swimmers.” And rightly so; this thing looked like it got into some pretty catastrophic fights with a mere stump for a leg and a socket for an eye.
“Let’s get it and keep it as a guard turtle,” said Benj.
“Sure,” I said , “but you have to get it in the truck.” When I said this I thought that there is no way in hell that Benj can get that in the truck. But before I could blink , he was trying to pick it up. Turtlezilla hissed then snipped ; Benj almost lost a finger . Then he tried again and was rewarded with a scar on his left arm.
“That isn’t going to work,” I said. As I flipped the tailgate down to sit on when a lightbulb moment happened. “We could flip it on it’s back.”
“Good thinking,” Benj said. Then he kicked Turtlezilla on it’s back. It hissed as if warning us, “Try it and I’ll I kill you!” Like a waiter, Benj held the monster and slowly ( while the turtle snapped wildly) he moved closer to the fire red pick-up truck. Finally the monster was in the red cage of the truck, Benj and I hopped in and drove off into the sunset. After all that , we showed off that turtle all summer.
"Kasey," John called her name, impatiently behind the door. Kasey sighed slowly, seeing that the dress didn't fit. "It doesn't fit. Too big," She yelled behind the dressing room door. It was a shame, she thought. It was beautiful. She wished Jonathan was here so passionately. Kasey missed him more than she'd ever missed anyone. Even more than parents who died in a bombing in Pakistan. Her mother was there for research and her father was in the military. She felt proud to have such parents as her's. She shook her head out of her daydreaming. "Kase, you ready to get out of here?" John asked her, sounding annoyed. Kasey Kerry creaked open the oak door of the dressing room. "Yes, I'm ready." She clung to the door for a moment, making sure her clumsy feet in her new bright red high heels didn't slip on the floor of the American Eagle store. John took her hand and lead her out of the store. "Can we go to dinner now?" John wondered aloud. Kasey smiled up at him, but it was not her true smile. It was fake, plastered on her face to produce happiness for him. The expression seemed out of place and disturbing. She was glad when he smiled back quickly and then looked around the mall for a place to eat. She noticed vaguely that her stomach was growling loudly. John picked an Olive Garden straight across from them. Kasey nodded, following him over to the table. Kasey noticed there was no one there. I guess it's just a rough night, she thought. "No one's here, Mr. Green. Just like you ordered," a tall, waitress called when we walked in. her hair was pulled into a tight, blonde bun. Her uniform was a white shirt with a short black skirt. She shot a flirty grin at John. After she was through looking all over his body, she drifted her gaze to Kasey. She pursed her lips then smiled. She did not seem to think John being with Kasey was anything to fret about. Kasey sat down across from John at a small table. "What would like to drink?" the waitress asked her with a fake smile. Kasey shrugged. "Water." The waitress laughed softly, covering it up with a cough. She wrote it down on her pad and grinned widely at John. Kasey was flaming with jealousy inside, but she didn't show it. She wanted to see how John would act with a girl flirting with him. The waitress kept smiling while she let down her bun slowly. John wasn't paying attention to her or Kasey. Like the guy he was, he was looking at the beer list. "I'll have a pint, if you wouldn't mind, Vicky," he said, his eyes resting on her chest. Kasey's heart beated in fury and slowly cracked in sadness. Vicky slowly whisked away to the kitchen. "You all right, Kase?" John asked her, trying to catch her eye. Kasey laughed softly. "No, John, I'm not. You're so wrong for me." She got up from the table and started to walk away. "What? Babe, what's wrong?" John grabbed her hand. Kasey snatched her hand away, but he grabbed it again. "You're a stupid guy who only cares about girl's bodies," she spat, trying to pry her hand away. John stopped, his hand still in Kasey's. He smiled and then laughed. "Kasey, seriously? You're the stupidest, most depressing girl I've ever met. I've put up with you after your 'B.F.F.' Jonathan died, but I'm tired of this shit. You're so useless." John pushed her onto a wooden bench outside the resteraunt. Kasey looked around quickly for anyone to help. She distantly saw Vicky behind the counter of Olive Garden. She yelled for her to help her. "Vicky! Vicky, please help!" Kasey screamed as John punched her throat. Vicky slowly turned towards them. Her eyes were sparkling. She was laughing. She was laughing about a girl getting killed. Kasey wanted to cry, but she didn't want to allow John anything to remember her by. She stopped yelling. She stopped grunting. She didn't move a muscle when John pulled out his red pocket knife.
"Kasey?" Her eyes blinked open. She gasped in surprise. She felt her salty drops of water stream down her face. She smiled slightly, amazed. Kasey touched his hair, feeling the chocolate curly locks. She felt herself go down his forehead, touching his piggy nose, and his soft lips. She lightly laid a kiss on his cheek, leaning forward. His shining blue eyes were open staring into her bright green. "I've been waiting for you, Kasey," he murmured softly. She jumped into his arms. She hugged him to her. "I'm never letting you go, Jonathan."
The End.
The School Odyssey
Book 1 The Stoners
Now Odysseus made his way through the hallways of Poseidon when he and his crew landed near the boys restroom.
The restroom smelled odd and there was a sound like giggling coming from it. The door of the restroom opened and three boys walked out as well as a ton of smoke. They laughed at nothing, had eyes of red, and smelled of the same smoke as the restroom. They called themselves the stoner.
“Hey man,” said one of them. He talked as if he was trying to hold something in.
More smoke came out of the restroom as if there was a massive dragon in there. The haze of the smoke moved into the lungs of the crew members.
Their wits were gone so they fallowed the stoners into the restroom. Our hero fallowed to but he covered his mouth.
Odysseus thought up a plan with all his guile to win his crew back. Then he waited for the perfect time to use it.
Many minutes went by and if any more went by the crew would fall into a deep sleep and all hopes of getting to homeroom would by lost.
Now finally the the time had come for our hero to act for the munchies and cotton mouth had hit the crew like a prize boxer hitting a punching bag.
“Hey guys,” said Odysseus, “I know were to get some awesome tacos.”
“That sounds good but what about the cotton mouth?” Said Jim a crew member.
“Yeah,” giggled another crew member.
“The same place has amazing soda,” said Odysseus prepared for that question.
“Oh man could you like bring some back,” said one of the stoners.
“Yeah tacos would be great a right about now,” said another stoner.
“I’ll bring some of the tacos back,” said the hero.
“Sweet,” said the stoners and the crew.
“But only if my crew members come with me.”
“Ok,” said the crew members as they stumbled to their feet. They walked out of the boys restroom in hope of tacos that would never come.
This is part four of The Cold Hard Truth. I hope that everyone likes it, and actually wants me to keep going with it. So comment or criticize. Thank you.
Trust is like a piece of paper. Once it’s crumbled, it can never be right again.
I stared at the policemen after he told me the of how they thought my brother had been killed. I looked to my grandmother who was in such a state of shock and denial that all she could manage to do was shake her head back and forth. My heart lurched for her, and I wished I could unhear what she just been heard for both our sakes, but I couldn’t. Life doesn’t have an undo button, unfortunately.
“It c-c-ouldn’t have been a f-f-riend of I-isaac’s. Everyone l-loves him,”My grandmother managed to stutter out. The present tense of love didn’t make it past mine and the policeman’s ears. I saw his face contort slightly when she said it. We both heard it, and we both decided not to correct. Who would correct someone that just lost a loved one?
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it can only be a person that was a friend of Isaac’s,”The man said with a definite considerable amount of sorrow. I applauded him on his efforts, but those were soon forgotten as the coroners pushed my brother’s dead body on the gurney down the stairs and right past where I was. He was in the bag that all dead bodies are carried in. Other people’s loved ones have been in that bag before, sure they clean them out, but you can’t take away the imprint of someones dead body being in it. It’s just too much to take away. My grandmother had noticed the gurney as well and she made a small choked sound. The policemen abruptly stood up and almost kicked the coroners out the door.
“Stupid idiots. Shouldn’t they know better by now?”I heard him mutter to himself as he slammed the door shut. I turned on the couch to see out the big glass window behind us. I could see the ambulance in all it’s glory parked in the drive way. Neighbors and news reporters covered the lawn, all of them trying to make it past the yellow tape so they could pry into our lives for their own sick pleasure. My stomach had enough for the second time that day, and I covered my mouth before running to the downstairs bathroom and emptying my stomach of all its contents for the second time today.
about me. I write and have heard i'm pretty good, but i don't think i can do 400 words about talking about myself because well I'm me not you and I don't do word counts I'll be under by 100 or over by 200. So umm i'm going to ramble yeah ramble. So year 2010 fun no longer a freshman yeah thats cool and i have no girlfriend so, not cool. I have a little sister you may know her you can guess that for yourself. Yeah my hair is the color of the doctor's hair not matt smith but David tennet. I love doctor who, any were from the Daleks to the tardis. My dog is retarded but then again i did drop him on his head so i guess that is my fault. He is all so pretty smart at times my brother benj calls him the retarded Einstein. I believe this to be true because the dog knows how to get water from the bathtub. Let's see talked about my dog doctor who maybe i should talk about harry potter or Twilight. Well first i did read Twilight and all the books that followed and if you are thinking about picking up this book you should(If you like Twilight do not read any more. wait like two lines.) kill yourself trust me on this. This book was a glorified pice of shit. I write better infect if i let my dog write a novel he could write better. The bitch that wrote Twilight needs to do research. Yeah so off that topic before I start world war 3 with all the pussies who liked it. So Harry Potter no no I should not even start this oh well harry kills himself becomes emo yeah i'm not starting this I did like the books and yes they were enjoyable but there and more holes in the books than a swiss dam made out of cheeses. OK now off the topic of books and on to bands the Beatles oh God the best band ever made. I mean i would steal the Tardis to see them play. And any one who does a remake should kill them selves. And on that note so long Tata for now good bye sayonara farewel adios and any other words that mean good bye
Someone posted earlier this week about common American Stereotypes, and it got me thinking. British stereotypes aren’t all that different, but considering that I’m guessing alot of you may be American, or may be British, I thought I’d enlighten you.
Let’s get one thing straight, we don’t play football, or have pretty cheerleaders,(Well we have a cheerleading squad at my school, but basically they do ten star jumps and then they fall into a sweaty pile on the floor; you get my drift) nor do we have mean jocks who stuff people into lockers.
I’ll begin with the stereotype that Britain is probably most commonly known for.
(Insert Jaws theme tune here)
THE CHAV also known as THE NED.
For those who have lived under the rock- A Chav is a human sub-species which live in Burberry tracksuits, smoke underage to look nailz ( nailz- say that so they sound ‘hard’, commonly said as ‘You gotta problem with me, I’m well hard. I’m nailz’), and impregnate their Chavettes (The female in the species of Chav).
The Chav is usually someone who plays football, but over the years they have evolved. No longer does the Chav have to play football to be a Chav. All you need to do is tuck your socks into your trackies (the battle armour of today’s chavs), speak like you’ve got something shoved up your behind, and wear a chap at all times. The golden rule is that you have to speak like you’re a 6ft 5 bodybuilder in a scrawny 5ft 4 body covered in an unattractive sprinkle of ache. Chavs can usually be found drinking buck fast and smoking around the back of the school.
Chavettes can usually be found not far from the Chav. They are usually either sporting a mixture of mousy brown and bleach blonde hair, a low cut neon top, and huge hoop earrings which look like fish hooks. They go for the ‘just-walked-out-of-wonka’s-factory look (Oompalumpa ring a bell?) or maybe they were born looking like cheesy wotsits? (FAKE TAN OVERLOAD). Usually pregnant at a young age, try to look like hot momma’s with their £1 bug eye glasses from Primark (A cheaper version of H&M) and their weirdly named Chav spawn in a pram; called either Banana, apple or Peaches or some commonly known fruit.
The Scene Beans
Also known as Scene kids; Emo’s or the correct term, emotionally unbalanced.
Usually sport a strange asymmetrical haircut that is brightly coloured and strange eyeliner doodles all over their faces. Their clothes reflect that they are ‘individual’ (basically they all look the same) and that they are ‘different’. Scene kids are usually outgoing, hyper, and a little bit creepy sometimes.
Emo’s on the other hand usually where black and are most uncommunicative, they are deep, emotional and like listening to wild men screaming like raving looneys. They are usually unhappy with their lives and they show it through their clothing, make-up, music tastes and obviously their unwilling attitudes towards most things.
The Gossips
Occasionally pretty, usually girls who have nothing better to do than sit around and talk about anyone and anything, the usual, normally nosey and only talk to you unless you have insider info, or they want something. They usually say like about a million times per sentence, trying to sound like the Stereotyped American cheerleader, but fail miserably. They also where alot makeup and reapply it frequently throughout the day.
The preps
The posh-totty, who attempt to try and pull off the I’m-a-boarding-school-girl, with their very English accents and posh clothes, when in fact they go to a public school and no one really cares if their your daddy bought them real Ugg boots for your birthday, because frankly, most people don’t care (Ugg boots; woolly boots worn by most preps, along with all their other designer stuff; very overpriced for what they actually are). They usually try to sound all innocent and perfect, but they are normally busy with a boy daddy doesn’t know about, or are smoking illegal substances to ‘rebel’
The people who you just avoid like the plague
They can occasionally be nice but are labelled as above because they either-
a)Smell really, really, really bad.
b)Always stare at you
c)The strange silent ones who always look like they are plotting evil schemes
d)The know-it-all’s
e)The bitches who you can feel staring at you; proving that looks can kill.
The Skaters
Usually skating everywhere, all sporting the same sweepy hair-do which they swish to the side to attract the opposite sex, usually fairly attractive, but lack personality and or, any common sense. Some do, and are quite nice. Good all-rounder’s as they get on with most social groups apart from the other sub-species; the Chav.
The Know-it-alls
They know everything; they speak so much in class that you kill them over and over in your head because they never shut up; the equivalent of the American Nerd, but much more vocal and much more irritating. They win every award, and usually have an annoying laugh and annoying friends who alot know everything. Usually misunderstood as they occasionally quite nice, but avoided by others because they feel intimidated by their intelligence.
Finally- Those who are relatively normal/ slightly Immature
If you don’t fit in the above categories, then you come in here, like me. Yay! You are merely normal, but occasionally you can grab a few strange looks for everyone. The normals are usually found laughing, smiling or doing something stupid. They aren’t normal, but they are in comparison to some of the above groups.
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I hope this gave you an insight into the...interesting insight into British Stereotypes. Yeh it’s exaggerated, but I enjoyed writing it. This may not apply every British school...but it most certainly applies to mind. Leave a comment telling me if you enjoyed this piece, this was my first stab at anything funny/humorous and I really enjoyed writing it.
My favorite quote by far is from One tree hill, "Quentin Fields was a basketball player. He was also a son. A brother. Somebody's teammate. Somebody's friend. I never knew Quentin Fields and I guess now I never will. Did you ever wonder what it would be like if you weren't you anymore? If you were suddenly gone how would your world react?.Whatever you imagined was wrong. There's nothing romantic about death. Grief is like the ocean: it's deep and dark and bigger than all of us. And pain is like a thief in the night. Quiet. Persistent. Unfair. Diminished by time and faith and love. I didn't know Quentin Fields but I'm jealous of him because I see how his absence has affected the people that did know him so I know that he did matter to them. And I know he was loved. People say Quentin Fields was a great basketball player. Graceful. Fluid. Inspiring. They say on a good night it almost seemed as though he could fly. And now he can"
I have this fear, That im just gonna wake up and some imporant to me is gonna be gone. This someone could well be : My mom, Tom, anyone of my brothers , Courtney, or austin. This fear lives in me cause I've almost lost my mother . Countless times she faced the odds and come out completely fine. Well, not completely. But I've could of lost her , The sole women in my life who has done pretty much everything for me . Yeah , i have a dad but he's nothing compared to my mother. But my mother isn't the topic of this at all.
I lost someone this year, Someone who i didn't releize I had any memories with until i lost him. He died at the end of april. His death was probably the most shocking towards me. When I tell people , they ask how old. You know what I get to say? My age. Someone close who i didn't talk to till a couple weeks ago lives down in the city it happened. He said he shouldn't off been flipping bikes. I procceded to tell him, well yeah maybe with out a helmet but he knew what he was doing.
So what sparked this? Um, well My friends mom died a couple days ago. Which got me thinkinig. What do you think would you do if you lost your mother? Well, Depends on the mood you get me, Right now, because I'm completely pissed off at her still . I would say I would be fine . BUt really not cause my mother does alot for me,
What would I do if I died? I dont really know, I have this fear of death. But not to the point of where I won't live. Just , I really don't know.
