Of the ill-washed winds, light burns. (phoenix_blade) wrote,
Of the ill-washed winds, light burns.
phoenix_blade

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A non-musical ode-thingy to a good friend.

Alright, guys, lemme be straight with you all. I'm a solipsist, through and through. 9 times out of 10, I'll post emoness not for your attention, but to remind myself later that I do, in fact, still retain some aspect of my humanity that allows me to feel. In the rare occasions that I'll draw something, and the even rarer occasions that I post it here, it's not to get an art critique or to get support from you'se guys, it's as a reminder later on down the road that I did draw at one time, and I can do it again. I'll post a degenerate smörgåsbord of metacomplex verbiage not because I think you all actually enjoy sifting through all of the bullshit, but because I like to know that I can use these words with reckless abandon and with little thought directed towards a post's legibility. I am, without a doubt, selfish and egocentric, and the comments I receive from all of you compound this, and reinforce my sinful pride.

Since the creation of this journal, there has been one person who has tolerated this asinine behavior out of me and still stuck around. When I first created it in the form of bluepheonix, I had three people I knew from some other internet site (which was itself filled with paradoxically large egos) join on right away, and who promptly began to tease me for misspelling "phoenix" since I was a vicious destroyer of those who couldn't spell my namesake in the past. Eventually I just started anew with this journal, phoenix_blade, because with the typo even I couldn't take myself seriously.

The three people who joined on to start out with were catwoman980, grete, and ultra_lilac. Sure, I eventually dragged the sage Ms. clockworkari and the witty Ms. mighty_muggette into the fold. Muggy even had her sheep icon way back then (do you remember when?). Later still came dee255, shodan43893, and oralaki (before he became e-famous, by-the-by), and that_cad too, though back then he still went by the name of "narcissisme." It was around that time that whoopseedaisy and matrixx and the rest of my f-list began to hop on board, and after I joined that little brutal_honesty community the number of my stalkers multiplied. By comparison, the hanger-ons I've somehow managed to earn from youcantwrite are newbies.

However, in the beginning there were only the three. Eventually I became disinterested in the large amount of hubbub going on over at Ms. Cat's LJ - big outtings were never much my bag o' chips, and to be honest with all the inside jokes and whatnot that went down I just kinda felt like I was on the outside looking in. No fun there, so I bid her adieu. grete eventually stopped writing in her journal, which was a shame - finally she deleted it, and I'm sad to say I have no idea what she's doing now with her life.

Then you come to Ms. ultra_lilac. If there's one thing you must know about the woman, it's that her kooky British wit far surpasses anything you mere mortals are capable of. Whether she was talking about job interviews that degenerated into a discussion about werewolf clip art, or describing the naked Apocalypse that ensues when you do something as simple as dying your hair, every last bit of her journal was a (hilarious) piece of heaven. Hell, it was reading her journal that actually got me interested in making mine better than the piece of shit it was. Really, without her journal feeding me inspiration, this little ditty I write in every now and then would be nothing more than one of the thousands of journals describing in excruciatingly boring detail the everyday happenings of my extraordinarily dull life. (As opposed to what it is now - one of the thousands of journals that makes excruciating pretenses of faux literary prowess while it languishes in obscurity in a small corner of the vast, empty sea of the internet.)

Ms. Ultra was, in effect, my first interwebs friend in the proper sense of the statement, and even still through all of my whinging diatribes she sticks by my side, and I by hers. Since the beginning, she's given me comfort for the harsh times I spent at the end of my tenure in my father's house, and witty commentary for the times when my own journal's entertainment value was severely lacking. In that time, I've witnessed her go through several tumultuous relationships, and times of abject loneliness where I was powerless to help. Thick and thin, good and bad, you get the idea.

Today, however, is a very special day for her. Today is the day that Ms. Ultra becomes Mrs. Ultra by way of the man she loves, a gentleman by the name of mgrasso who somehow managed to sneak by her impenetrable aura of awesome.

So, today my journal will not be for self-effacing. Today, my journal will be devoted to Jenny, and I will congratulate this dear woman for taking her first step forward in the rest of a life filled with contentment, joy, and the love of her life which she has found at last.

Live long and be happy, Jen. You'll have an immature, pseudobrilliant psycho rooting you on wherever life may take ya', even if it is only in spirit (and in billions of meaningless 1s and 0s through an arcane, complicated electronic medium).
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  • 16 comments

  • This place is dead.

    Harsh, maybe. But the fluttering scrips and scraps as the calloused fingers of the Russian advertisers clambering over almost silent…

  • I have not imbibed a diphenhydramine cocktail lately and am still here.

    I've endeavored to reread every last entry I've posted on this journal. This isn't so much because of a self-deprecatory desire to see how much…

  • (no subject)

    Also, it appears that, in a bid to appease the grammatically incompetent demographic of people who feel that their intentional bastardization of…