Dust on a Dusty road..

I find it a bit funny that I'm too lazy to even post a blog post now and then, I even like it, its just that beginning the post is alway stressful to me. But even so, I looked up my blog and I noticed that it was still the same post as it was a couple of weeks ago, even though I said earlier that I would post something a few times a week. So I ended up here, sitting in front of my computer at 02.30 AM on a Sunday, (I have Monday off this week), with a huge 0.6 l glass of water sitting next to my keyboard. I'm too lazy to walk back and forth with a smaller glass. Anyway, here it goes. Can't write anything, can't write anything. I'll give it a try in the morning. Anyway, have a great evening/night/afternoon/morning.

No I am not asking you to figure out if I have a mental issue based on the many/few posts you may have read. But I am asking you to answer this uh, simple question. Does picking a battle with my own character make me crazy? I mean, I have planned to undo/diminish my flaw of being overly lazy at times.. Is it even possible? I wonder. Also I want to be able to cope with rutines, I'm not much of a organized person, not at all, but I want to try and succeed at organizing some small part of my life to enable me to do my duties in time.. Is this an impossible task and/or a waste of my time, and makes me crazy if i try it?

The weird smile. The sun a coin of molten fire. Heating like a huge pyre. The dunes of sand stretched out as far as the eye could see. The sting of sun upon uncovered skin felt like the sting of a bee. A man dressed in black, stood on a dune and watched over to the east. His eyes were crazed, his mind was dazed, and he thought he saw a feast. The sun a coin of molten fire. Heating like a huge pyre. The man had no water, and he had not had a drink since the end of the last week. He should have been dead but his soul did not break loose and leave him with a shriek. He could barely stand as his eyes saw only the feast. He could not move nor walk, no, not in the least. The sun a coin of molten fire. Heating lite a huge pyre. The man tried to move and as a result was forced to fall. He had not realized the dune he was on had a drop quite so tall. As he landed below the top of the dune he had sank down to his hips. His mind was lost as he thought he was swimming and kissing a woman on the l...

For some the actions of the characters might seem apalling and I would not reccomend you to read it if you abhor reading about violence/criminalities no matter what the story. I do not however base the entire text on violence and "criminalities" so if you are up to reading something inventive for a change you would do yourself a favor by reading on. The Mender felt exhausted as he walked away from the alley, and despite the young woman's urgent tone he could not make himself increase the pace of his walk. Typical, I have just mended her and she tries to tell me what to do in return.. "My lady is hold captive by your organization, They torture her often and for no reason at all." She was repeating herself he noticed, but he did not offer her the slightest amount of attention. "For Great Mother's sake! She needs your help or she will be tattooed!" Abrubtly he stopped, the woman's lady was also a witch? For Mother's sake indeed. "Fine I...

I have been suffering from a severe case of writer's block lately, but suddenly as I was kind of boring myself nearly to death my imagination worked itself to new hights. If you're reading this, I hope you will consider reading the entire post and even post a comment. Thank you in advance. Oh and if you notice any difference in the size of the letters, I'm on my brothers laptop at the moment, sitting in some damn old house far out in the countryside. There was a cold breeze blowing into the face of the Mender as he drew closer to the backstreet in where his chosen victim lay in shock . Mender, bah! They call me damned for the simplest reason, I am different. He noticed the positure of her body as he came closer, she was simply lying slumped in a curled ball, bloody and beaten. He readied himself, he cleared out all thoughts and daydreams, this was not a time to be distracted. As he walked into the dirty alley, he crouched down in front of her and took her head into his glo...