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I make all kinds off crafts. Crochet, yarn tails, cross stich, ect. PM me for details and examples.
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Likes:The full moon
Doen't like:to much sunlight
You can adopt one too!
Pikachu is a registered sex offender under court order to tell everyone what he is tempted to do. "Peek at you". He just says it really cutely and mixes it up a bit.
DON'T LET LOOPHOLES MAKE YOU A VICTIM OF PERVERTMON.
Don't we all wish...
Ah. It's you. Good. I've been waiting a long time to talk to you. Come and sit by the fire.
Thank you. But...but I'm not really here, am I? This is all a story, something I'm dreaming or reading...
Hmm. Perhaps you're right. Although isn't having a dream and reading a book a real experience? After all, real or not, this room is where your awareness is currently centered. And someone's talking to you.
Well, yes, but...I mean, if it's a dream, it's my own subconscious talking. If it's a book, it's just some writer. Either way, you're a fiction.
Ha Ha! You're wonderful. You're always so difficult. Ohhhh...don't look hurt. I just meant that's one of the reasons I love you. You're stubborn. You don't just accept things. Okay, now listen to me. Yes, Promethea's fiction. Nobody ever claimed otherwise. I never lied.
I'm at least an honest ficton. A true ficton. A ficton that can enter your dreams, posses her creators, talk through them to you. I'm an idea. But I'm a real idea. I'm the idea of the human imagination...which, when you think about it, is the only thing we can really be certain isn't imaginary.
No, don't say anything. Just hold my hand and listen. Your hand's warm. That's nice. It makes this all sort of girlfriendly. See, I'm imagination. I'm real, and I'm the best friend you ever had. Who do you think got you all this cool stuff? The clothes you're wearing. The room, the house, the city that you're in. Everything in it started out in the human imagination.
Your lives, your personalities, your whole world. All invented. All made up. All the wars, the romances. The masterpieces and the machines. And there's nothing but a funny little twist of amino acids, playing a marvelous game of pretend. Nothing here but me and you. Me and you, little lifesnake. By the fire where we've always been sence this room was a cave. Do you remember? When you first thought you saw things in the flames, in the dancing shadows...and you need me to tell you a tale. A story grand and glorious.
Begun like all adventures with a bang, all space, all time, even this instant now, explodes from nought into forever, an exceptionally lucky diamond pool-break.
Against all odds, had this explosion happend differently, we have a cosmos capable of forming solar sytems, planets, life. Of forming us, to witness everything. This is the strong anthropic principle: sentient life appears to be what all existence is contrived to engineer, the point of all these atoms, nebulae and conflagrations.
A midnight snow-globe fleced with novas, happening all at once in four dimensions. All time, even time's end, caught within this glittering, endless, hyper-moment.
All things, every star, each world, each species, everything we make or do or think, all part of its continuing eruption.
Here we stand for our breif moment, amidst the blaze and thunder, marveling as fire streamers from the blast sprout fns, flamingo feathers, Chrysler buildings.
This astounding tumble into being, as if an explosion at a chemical works has somehow spat out an ornamental garden, a cathedral, and a zoo. All things are precipitated by the nature of existance. Nothing, therefore, is unnatural, be it bee-hive or termite mound or all our shining, poisoned cities.
Everything is universe. Everything is Holy, life and consciousness creation's rarest embers. Our caduceus DNA, a brilliant flaw, twists through this starry, four-dimensional jeweled orrery. And all of us, the lifesnake's myriad contingencies, embroiled in three dimensions, suffering time's illusion, fear our end, don't understand each second is eternal, here forever.
Our lives are bubbles, decades wide, suspended in eternity, each hour immortal.
Triumphs, heartbreaks, Heaven, Hell.
No instant ever dies. Live joyfully.
Live knowing that you are already dust, long gone, already outside time and looking in, reviewing life, finally understanding every Deja Vu, your very own guardian angel. Know that the scorched-black demons and pristine, fluttering seraphs are in some sence nought but you yourself unpacked, unfolded in a higher space...from whence the myriad Gods unfurl, not bygone leagends but your once and future selves,your attributes blossomed into thier purest and most potent symbol-forms.
And these, with all thier beast-heats, crowns and lightings, all thier different colors, are become combined into the single whiteness that is Godhead. That is all. This, then, is revelation. All is one, and all is Deity, this beautiful undying fire of being that is everywhere about us, that we are.
O man, O woman, know yourself, and know you are Devine. Respect yourself, respect the least phenomenon of your existence as if it were the breath of God. Know that our universe is all one place, a single firelit room, all time a single moment. Know that there has only ever been one person here.
Know you are everything, forever.
Know I love you.
Know that I love you in this room, this womb, of warm and gathering shadows...in this velvet mother night, as the white glare of revelation fades...dims to a prism-tingle in the nerves, the mind, the heart.
Rejoice. Your world is ended.
The beliefs whereupon it was founded turn to air before the quantum scrutiny of your new science; were never truly there.
Time's jail-yards are unlocked, the prison of material ambition that reduced you now demolished.
Rejoice. Return now to your separate moments, selves, and rooms, and know that separation for illusion.
Know the you were one, were here, and in eternity are here forever.
Here, where sudden firelight in your soul startled you from your worldly slumber.
I hate people who say that I'm going to hell for whatever reason they have at that moment. You are not a God, a Goddess, an Angel, or a Demon. You are human, and no better than I am. What right have you to judge my Soul.
Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. They are fast, faster than you could believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink.