ברוכים הבאים.
למי שלא יודע, יש לי היום יום הולדת, אני בן 18, אני חוקי לכל דבר (METAL)
אני מתחיל לכתוב על מוסיקה מתחילת שבוע הבא, עד אז, העיצוב ישתנה לגמרה.
אני מפסיק אם הירידות המשעממות על EMO ו Tokio Hotel.
אחרי הכל... נחוי אני צריך את זה???
אז אתם מוזמנים להיכנס בשבוע הבא, יחקה לכם פוסט מעניין על מוסיקה.
אני מתנצל על השגיעות, אני לא כותב בעברית מי יודע מה טוב, הצד החזק שלי הוא אנגלית.
So here we change the languge,
I got some fine shit next week, don't miss.
I am going to talk about Rock and metal.
And if you think that there isn't enough about it, than think again.
Now for the end, i would like to post a short story which was written even before our parents were in planning.
The English in this story is very high, much like in A.A Poe stories.
Memory
by
H. P. Lovecraft
Written in 1919
Published May 1923
in
The National Amateur
In the valley of Nis the accursed waning moon shines thinly, tearing a path for its light with feeble horns through the lethal foliage of a great uperas-tree. And within the depths of the valley, where the light reaches not, move forms not meant to be beheld. Rank is the herbage on each slope, where evil vines and creeping plants crawl amidst the stones of ruined palaces, twining tightly about broken columns and strange monoliths, and heaving up marble pavements laid by forgotten hands. And in trees that grow gigantic in crumbling courtyards leap little apes, while in and out of deep treasure-vaults writhe poison serpents and scaly things without a name. Vast are the stones which sleep beneath coverlets of dank moss, and mighty were the walls from which they fell. For all time did their builders erect them, and in sooth they yet serve nobly, for beneath them the grey toad makes his habitation.
At the very bottom of the valley lies the river Than, whose waters are slimy and filled with weeds. From hidden springs it rises, and to subterranean grottoes it flows, so that the Demon of the Valley knows not why its waters are red, nor whither they are bound.
The Genie that haunts the moonbeams spake to the Demon of the Valley, saying, "I am old, and forget much. Tell me the deeds and aspect and name of them who built these things of Stone." And the Demon replied, "I am Memory, and am wise in lore of the past, but I too am old. These beings were like the waters of the river Than, not to be understood. Their deeds I recall not, for they were but of the moment. Their aspect I recall dimly, it was like to that of the little apes in the trees. Their name I recall clearly, for it rhymed with that of the river. These beings of yesterday were called Man."
So the Genie flew back to the thin horned moon, and the Demon looked intently at a little ape in a tree that grew in a crumbling courtyard.
Taken From: Http://Dagonbyes.com
Anyone that likes Goth art and dark stories by the best writers of horror, should check this place out.
So this is the end for this one.
Good Night, and don't be gay, or the Nazi sandman will get you. (If you see him, kill him, i hate that guy)
-Fisher Out-
בבלוג זה
בכל הבלוגים
כינוי:
JekaFisher
