Short Isolation
An attempt at an ironic dialogue, because who what's to be isolated and lonely?  Not me!

Isolation!
The exquisite loneliness.
Darkness!  Exquisite darkness,
where we cannot think.
No one for miles?
Isn't that what we all wish for?
Never to talk to another
person again, yes, that is
what we want!
Never again to walk the street
Never again to sit in the park
Never to talk with a friend!
Isolation of our own will!

A Poem-Type Thing

On blackened grass I sit, above my home.
Below me, scattered about my home lay as that of autumn leaves
yet their color that of parchment.
Vast leviathans approach
Their color comparable to the darkest of midnight
yet they bask in a glow.
Perhaps that is the color of man's heart.
Blackened, twisted arms reach towards the sky
never again to bask in the warm sun
But instead bask in the glow of a new one.
As I look down to find myself vanishing in the warmth
I only think of how fun it was, while it lasted.
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A Vacation on a Canvas

 

I took a vacation and visited "The Sultan of Morocco and his entourage", a nice little painting by Eugene Delacroix in 1845.  And here is what I found:


Overall:
In the foreground a Sultan sits on his horse, a servant close by with an unusual parasol for his master.  The horse has dark tones, with the posture of its head making it reminiscent of a skull.  It stands out, as most of the other tones in the rest of the picture are earthen.  Surrounding the sultan are what appears to be either other important people or his servants, which balance each other out in a fashion.  It is of note, however than the sultan's clothing is relatively simple compared to the soldiers in the foreground.
The background is a clear blue sky behind what may be Morocco.  There are plants growing on the top and side of the wall, with some fissures running here and there, giving an aged look.  The entrance to the city is balanced with a higher concentration of green (plants) on the opposite side of the panting.  Many of what appear to be soldiers are standing in front of the walls to Morocco in the middle ground.  What appear to be either spears or muskets in their right hands and wearing red embellishments in the form of various sashes, turbans and pointed hats.  However behind the soldiers there is what appears to be what could be perhaps average citizens of the day, hoping to get a glimpse of the Sultan.

Color and Form:
Many of the colors used are of earthen tone.  Many figures in the background are only able to be recognized as people is either due to the red hats they wear or the contrast of their clothing to the color of their faces.  It is interesting how many people in the foreground and some in the middle ground do not have this sort of contrast.
The Sultan makes a central figure, however his "entourage" surrounds him.  The expressions generally seem to be than of perhaps exasperation, as if the formalities here are a bother.
The Sultan's horse makes a most striking figure, because unlike its surroundings, it has a blue color to it, which not only helps draw the attention to the figure of the sultan, but combined with the horse's posture seemed to give it a supernatural look.
It is of note that the figure leading the horse is looking right at the viewer, as if this were a picture -breaking the fourth wall, as it were.
A trapezoid is created at the hooves of the sultan's steed, creating a sense that this was perhaps a pose especially for this painting.  Also, a triangle is formed between the sultan's parisol and the sultan himself.  In the background the Walls of Morocco  make a border between the sky and the ground, in a skewed rectangular fashion.

FIRST POST     ^w^


So, first post I guess.
To get a good grasp of who I am, let me tell you what I am not.  Yet, some parts are truth, but I'll leave that for you, dear reader, what is true and what is not.


    I grew up in a small, suburban community in the North Eastern corner of Vermont,  however due to the nature of my personality I had as a child, I did not have many friends, and did not get along well with my two brothers.
    I suppose the catalyst was in the first grade, during some form of schoolyard rough play.  I had become angry, and as a result incapacitated a fellow student for a better portion of the day, to the point of where his memory of the incident became nonexistent.
    From that point on my temperament had gained me a negative kind of notoriety, to the point where I had few friends, if I could even call them friends, as we never were close.
    It is not that I was actually being malicious.  I had a strong sense of justice, and would not condone harassment to fellow students.  However many thought my actions were unprovoked and the antagonists gave themselves the appearance of the victims.
    This sort of thing continued into high school, (which was a nice little urban one in my hometown).  I would not tolerate harassment to myself or others who I was acquainted with.
    As a result of my reputation (and somewhat immature attitudes) any romantic relations failed to even begin, which led to a high school career of uninteresting boredom, at least on that front.
    However, as my high school years progressed I gained more friends (as they had heard less about my reputation), and by my senior year I had found myself a nice little niche in a gaming club (to the point where I dressed up in costume on 2 occasions).
   Graduation flew by, and my first 1 and a half years of college passed by in a blur, but at the same time took an eternity.
And here I am now.