Trying To Protect Myself From The World

Grazie

Once again i say thank you. For putting up with all of my bullshit and for all of those wasted nights which would have been better spent asleep.

decision

to blog my diary? im a little hesitant on this one as my blog was effectively my diary before i actually started writing one, yet my diary is alot more personal than my blog, i dont know maybe a dumbed down version, i have no idea

A return to scotland and to my Blog. With not much else to say except that, that girl will be the death of me. The distances between the highs and the lows is to great, but having something is better than having nothing.

Pack Up: XV

"Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag, and bury them beneath the sea"

                       -Miss Doolittle

Because: XIV

and that saddens me most of all. However all i want to say is thank you. Thank you for those great conversations, for not writing me off as a whack job with a sorry story, who has a suicide trip every time he hears a name, for all of those sacrificed nights spent behind a computer screen, having to things three or four times, and most of all for being honest and being generally amazing to me which is something that i feel i don't deserve. There is no doubt about it you stopped me going loco this summer and for that I am eternally in you debt to you.
                   Thank You
                                    Your Twin
                                                     Miles

Infinity: XIII

"Lets try and count from one to infinity"


         -Eliza Doolittle
              
                               Thank you

Story: XII

A, E, I, O And U

With a gun barrel between your teeth you speak only in vowels. And this barrel was very firmly between my teeth, I could taste the fresh explosives that had propelled the bullet which had killed my friend who was now slumped in the booth that we were been occupying together.

To my disgust I could also taste blood which I know was definitely not my own and worse still there were some small lumps that I really did not want to know the origin of, yet somehow my mind knew that they were small lumps of my friends brain. The rest was in his skull, and on my breakfast which was now a deep red colour. I felt sad I had known him for along time and we had done many jobs together. I was sorry for his demise, but I know that there will be allot of people that will be happy to learn of his death. Especially his victims family's my, he has pissed some people of in his time, he was the best at what we do.

And what do we do? We are contract killers, hired and fired to kill people. We are the best, were the best, now however due to the tenancies of the job I will have to go solo or find a new partner, and hunt down the rich cat that ordered this hit.

We were not even the intended targets. That sorry fate was a business man whose grey matter was now splattered across the wall behind him. The killer had then turned around and watched at the looks of horror that that he had painted on everyone's faces. He was the new Picasso, his master piece; the glamour of the kill, and my what glamour he had. He saw us walked slowly over, caressing his paintbrush of death as he went. He stopped just beside my friend and popped him twice in the heart and once in the head just to make sure or, was it just for fun sometimes with people like me it is hard to tell, sometimes even I know why I do things. He then proceeds to ram his gun barrel between my teeth smiled for a moment then and asked in a mocking sing song voice: “ever danced with a devil in the pale moon light?” I thought about this and tried to reply forgetting that the gun was still between my teeth and chipped my tooth on the front sight, I felt this chip slide its way down my throat making my gag along the way. He took the gun out of my mouth and gestured with it to repeat myself, and so I did. I decided to call him Mr White. He laughed and stood back and seeing the waitress cowering by the coffee machine brought the gun up with a lazy beauty and raised his kill count to 3.

            I was used to this kind of mindless violence and so my mind started wonder, and it came to rest on the gun which until recently had been in my mouth. I wondered if it was clean and remembering the entrails that were still covering it I spat onto the table in front of me. I watched with mock amusement at my spit mingling with the blood that had squirted itself from my friend, and had now formed a pool which was swimming across the table towards me. I could see a reflection of the ceiling in the pool. It was a plain ceiling; white with strip lights in rows of three. It was as if the architect had gone out of his way to make it purposefully boring so that people just sat, ate, talked, paid and left thus making the place seem even more boring than it was by its self.

I heard the pump of a shotgun and looked up; the manager had plucked up some courage and tried to defend his place. The killer did not even look around just pointed his gun in the manager’s direction and pulled the trigger. The bullet flew across the room with a perfect spiral which cannot be replicated by mother nature herself, and sunk its self firmly in the upper cranium of the manager who fell to the floor, even more of a pathetic bag a of bones than when he started.

It was a shame really all he had tried to do was protect his joint and he had paid for it with his life, my sudden burst of emotion did not last long though and my mind wandered around the room going from person to person, it came to rest on someone who was obscured from view by a broadsheet news paper which meant that he, for I had come to the conclusion that it was a man, was completely obscured from view and all you could see was his shoes that were protruding from the shadows of the table they were worn converses that looked as if they had seen better days I liked them they had a look about them that said that they had history, they sat that you can tell allot about a man from his shoes however these could point you in all sorts of directions for there were many and I did not want to venture down any encase I got lost  and could not find my way out like a mental maze.

I decided that when I got bored of this game, for that is what it is for me, and did some thing about it I would get myself a pair.  The killer had sat himself down in the next booth along talking to this petrified girl who looked as if she was going to die from fright this me chuckle I remember feeling like that when I had been on my first job, back then I was only watching how the masters conducted there orchestra, controlling the crowds and dealing with the heroes and tormented the petrified girls who were crapping themselves and looked like you only had to go boo to them and there lights would go out, and then mocking the old men that tried to give you a million and one stories about ‘nam’ and how that had killed all the “god’am gooks” and that I should be ashamed of what I was doing, however the ups were huge you got paid more than you know what to do with.

I had put it all in a hole at the bottom of the garden where I knew that it would be safe no; fool touched any thing on my land. The last on that did was in intensive care for a month and earned me a month in county, I had done a bit of time over the years all of which I probably deserved but resented more and more every time, I hated the system it tried to hold people like me but failed, it had failed before it had even started. There will always be someone to replace me another person willing to bite the bullet and live like a god until his time is up. so we started our own little virus that affected only a small number but my how our presence was felt, the system hated us we hated it, it was a love hate relationship but definitely more hate than love, the only love felt was when one of us beat the other and even that was short lived. We completed each other if there were not people like me then there would be no system and if there was no system every one would be like me. It’s a funny old world that we live in. I decided that I was bored of playing his game and that I wanted to get on, but before I was about to reach for my colt .45 which is hidden in the waistband of my trousers, the man behind the newspaper fired two shots one hit the killer in the stomach and the other in the face he crumpled in a beautiful kind of way with little jerks as he went.

Upon seeing this I pulled out mu .45 and aimed at roughly where I thought newspapers head was and pulled just once. It flew straight through the newspaper making a kind of rustle as it went through, painting it a pretty red. He did not move so I presumed, as one would in these situations, that he had met his end and started to look at the mess that was all around me if the cops showed up I was going to be going to be having a visit from old sparky no doubt about it.

So I got the other people who had survived this and got them to lye on the floor in front of me checked the I had enough bullets in my mag’ and started exercising my trigger finger. Once my work was done I went outside and brought in one of the big 15 litre jerry cans they had for sale out side and started to pour it over everything that was in that joint. Once I was done pulled out my lighter stepped out of the door lit a napkin and threw it inside, the petrol exploded knocking me back by a good few feet. I got back up turned around and decided that taking a car would be to easy to track and started to walk along the highway away from the city I had no idea where I was going but I know that I was going to get a careers change something cushy where there are definitely no guns involved maybe ill become a politician or something like that. Where you still had to fight but not with fists with words, I liked the sound of that. My days of guns were over and my ones of words had begun.

FUCK OFF!!: XI

Why wont people just FUCk OFF!!! [not my twin you can stay]

The emotion moths: X

Emotions are circling around in my head like moths to a lamp on the darkest night until no light can be seen for the swarm, and yet i sit here and allow them do do it. Sat in awe as they pull me this way and that. All tough i have a swat to make them go away and yet i don't here is sit and watch completely transfixed.

Love's a state of mind: IX

Why is it that when i was so totally devoid of human emotion i could describe them perfectly, and now i am beginning to feel them i cant describe them no matter how hard i try, not matter what language i try.

Flight And Explosions: VIII

Why can't I just fly high in the sky and explode like a firework?

The Pen Is Mightier Than The Sword: VII

It is true that the pen is mightier than the sword but the camera is mightier than them both. It has taken lives and saved them, ended wars and started them. It's a phenomenon that has no boundaries and no rules.

When a photograph is taken that scene is frozen in time to be preserved forever. The conversations muted forever to be discussed the views and opinions expressed in the silent words forever to be changed to match the viewers opinions, thoughts, feelings and self interests. Photographs are a window into the past and to what happened, a slap in the face that wakes us up and makes us realize that we are not special, we are not here for some divine purpose, just to live. We must hold onto these windows to the past for they show us who we are and with out them we are lost, those fleeting expressions that are there only for a second and then gone again they are all captured and stored kept in little plastic tubs on film or in a locked draw on a disk only to be brought out at our death to be viewed and thrown away subjected to the human condition.

Remember these silent windows for they speak louder than any words can ever do.

Life And Death: VI

Why  is it that i strive to die as soon as possible and live until i am old and can live no more, at the same time. Its like there are two of me and they both want two very different things, another example one like boys one likes girls. One smokes the other does not. there both strong and there both battling it out in my mind to see who is the stronger one. Im really not sure which side will win and Im not even sure i know which side i want to win, the one that will have me dead in a year or the one that will have me growing until Im old and need some one else to wipe my own arse. They are both me, but which one is stronger? Im not sure i want to find out.

Ideas: V

Hitler and only one pot of paint

Family :IV

i think that you chose your family, i have chosen mine is it time you chose yours?

Boredom: III

Im so bored at the moment all i seem to be doing is getting up and watching TV or movies on my computer all day it was fun to begin with but now it is really repetitive. i don't have any good books to read and my quest to get a summer job is fruitless i haven't got any replies from any where which is slightly depressing. waiting for y dad to get home so that we can have tea might just go ahead and heat it up myself.

London Dock: II

From my trip to london finished doing the editing the other day. thought that you might wat to see.

My First Post : I

Well this is my first post.

I am really impressed with how good this service is, but slight;y disappointed that the Flickr gadget does not want to recognize my account, so i shall put up a link at the end of this post.

if you want to contact me my msn and email are milesmetcalfe@live.com

well cant think of much to go into this post so here is my Flickr link http://www.flickr.com/photos/milesmetcalfe94

Thanks for reading my blog so far i will update with some pictures soon