My Code

I literally challenge any person to break this. Professional or not, do give it a go. I would love to see someone figure it out. This is my own code and cipher that took me the best part of three hours to cipher up. It is written using symbols I made up, so that it can't be run through a computer without great difficulty.

If anyone wishes to take on the challenge. So feel free to message me for clues to the key. Anyone who thinks they have something - please keep it to messaging me. This is my code, and you cannot take it from me :P

As a small simplification, each symbol has two dots in it (to make sure you can differentiate) and every single symbol that appears in my code does appear at least once in this little section.

Happy deciphering, hope your brain doesn't hurt too much. :D

Plan Of Action

So I've decided to set up and get bloody organised, if I'm gonna do this whole blog thing properly and get noticed and all that. Now I know most of you will just casually look at pieces and read half of my things and do no more. Don't assume other people will be sharing me - because everyone will be thinking the same. All it takes is a little post from you, to re-share something of mine to a social forum and it can spread my stuff further.

I know that sounds like a beg, and it almost is. But I have made it easy for you. I have a Twitter account, a Facebook page, a Tumblr page and soon will have a Youtube page with videos.

Now, Twitter, Facebook and Tumblr are just metaphoric limbs for this blog. All the posts on there will be links to this here blog, and perhaps a couple of other things I see and think are cool. But that means that if you are on any of them, you can share anything you like onto your account with real ease.

Just do it now, and it takes so much less effort.

 Now, that's the pleading over :) Basically, on here I am going to sort it. There will be 3 posts per week. Sunday Creative Writing, Tuesday Sweetism and Thursday Sweetism.

Sweetisms basically contain what you've seen already. Some of my rants from life events like the circus. Random humour things like Funny Words. Some philosophies (but less, because I know less people are interested than me :P) and finally some things you haven't seen yet, such as excerpts from my picture book 'Sweet's Nibblets' and other things I've done, like my code which I'll challenge anyone to crack.

This idea will commence on Tuesday. So I'm taking this (mildly) professionally in order to get noticed. So all I ask is that you help out a friend / that weird guy who you think you like but aren't really sure about.

Thanking you muchly! Big Love!
TheSweet

The Funny Words

Now, I know what you're thinking: 'Kyle Motherfucking Sweet, why are you so ducking G hellacious? Or in fact, so damn funny?'

My mummy says I'm special.

Well, thanks for asking. I'll tell you exactly why. It's because I know funny words. Funny words such as face.

Now you have to admit, face it a quality word. It is both a sharp word, and a soft word. It starts with a soft sound, ends with a soft sound and little harshness gets in the way of it's journey. Lets repeat the word together. Face. Face. Face. Face.... That'll do, we need to keep it's meaning.

Now if anything happens to someone's face, it makes it so much funnier than it happening generally. For example:

1. 'I threw the cactus at your mum.' becomes 'I threw the cactus at your mum's face.'
2. 'I simply high-fived the man.' becomes 'I simply high-fived the man's face.'
3. 'I breathed politely.' becomes 'I breathed politely in that child's face'

I think you get the idea with that. Faces are simply just funny things. However, this last one does actually lead me to my next point. It was a seamless transition, you'd think I'd have actually thought this through or something. :D

The next funny word is... child. Or preferably small children. Because things are funnier when someone is either really small or really fat. So we go with small children, just to make sure they're young and naíve. And of course, the less said a about fat dwarves the better.

Moving on very rapidly... Small children are funny. If you were to knock over a small child, pick up a small child (Careful, Gary), or grabbing a small child by it's infantile teeth.

So far, we can establish a concept that would have high lollerations to many of us - to throw a small child at ones' face. Think about it.

While this looks like a mother. She is actually just about to shot put the child into a face for the comedy Olympics.

Now I think we all agree on the ensued hilarity of that statement. (And yes, I did just coin my own word 'Lollerations'.) So we shall make this shit go down by adding even more funny. The word kick is a word, much like face, but of a harsher context. While face is soft - kick is hard (haha... like a peni... Never mind). Kick starts with a hard K sound and ends with a hard K sound.

So seeing as many people have pre-empted what I am about to say. I may as well unleash the humour upon you. One of the funniest phrases in the world:

'Kicking a small child in the face'.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

Now I will tell you something. The woman in the super market I was explaining this to, did not seem to find kicking a child in the face very amusing. Humourless bitch. But luckily she had a child with her, so rather than explain, I was able to demonstrate. :)

Old Experimental Story

Here is a story I wrote based on a friend of mine about a year and a half ago when I first really started to get into writing. It's called Sprawled On A Bathroom Mirror. I think it's good to have litter odd pieces like this to play around with. It really helps to hone your writing style. This one is where I learned my love for short and odd sentence structures. Hope you like it.

'Sprawled on a Bathroom Mirror' teaser:

'Going back now. Back to how things should be. All I have to do is trust, hope; let go of my chains before I lose you. A text is a text, it is not a problem to start getting paranoid about. A friend is a friend, and no more. We are a couple and we. Will. Work. Welcome back, old me. Just keep this one up; don't go away again. With any luck he is here to stay. The old me. The True me. He is all yours, just as you are all mine. Love.'

Standing. Bathroom. Mirror ahead. Message written from the top of the head and bottom of the heart. In desperate need of spirituality. Problems, problems everywhere and not a drop of clarity. They have to stop.

Most are resolved, doesn't stop you thinking though does it? Scribbled message in toothpaste; three empty tubes on the floor. The realisation of recent that only you matter, but the impact you have on other people is who you are. It's the people around you that count. Or person, in my case.

Here's my story of who I once was.

-----> Full Story

Sense

  There are many senses,

It is argued there are over twenty two.
Are the original ones not jealous?
I know I'm always jealous when someone is new.

  Touch is a wondrous thing

As it allows pain, which is important
And stability. Your hands and fingertips
Give unimaginable amount of information,
Yet it is valued less and less.
The feel of temperature has been separated,
But that doesn't take away the smooth texture of skin,
Or the rough of a sponge. The prick of a pin.
  Taste is a strange thing.
It is actually my most prominent sense,
My memory for taste is next to none!
I can fool myself into thinking I am eating,
Though it's not a fraction of what it really feels like,
The mixtures of taste sensations in a mixed sandwich,
Or the ideas you pick up; the last thing the person you are kissing had to eat
Or drank. Both food and drink, and even poison. The bitter or the sweet,
We have our taste buds to thank: the sensory dopamine tank.
  Sight comes and goes. It is probably one of the weakest.
Though we value it in such high regard.
Colours, shapes, textures. It gives us the knowledge of memory
So the other senses know exactly what to expect - Before it happens!
Sight gives expectations, and superficial relations.
Even eyes themselves have colour that can only be seen by others.
But is it more more important than it's sensory brothers?
I put to you a cliché.
If you had to choose, would you rather be blind or deaf?
  Because hearing is under appreciated.
Music gives emotions,
It gives feelings of people, and voices as distinct as faces.
The value of listening to someone without even questioning
Looks is the purest of thought? Judging someone
For who they really are.
Hearing used to include balance, but now it's counted as separate.
But imagine hearing the world in mono!
I think we'd all get a little bit desperate.
  This only leaves smell of the elite.
The olfactory information which second to none judges attraction.
Smell is spread through particles in the air,
And they give us instant feelings to what it is we prefer.
The smell of him or the smell of her,
No smell at all is all that would make them a blur.
  So with senses being added and debated anew,
Nothing can change the elite of the main sensory few.
Call them sub-categories or call them their own.
Nothing can beat what our senses have already known.

Friendship Theory (I Have None)

  Looking at the combination between the Six Degrees Of Separation, Buber's definiton of friends and Dunbar's number:

   Everyone has Dunbar's number. Your Dunbar's number is the maximum capacity for friends. This is 150. Anyone beyond 150 friends don't really count. He says this because we only have a cognitive capacity to retain information on 150 people - any more than that is nobody you can keep up with or know how they are.

  This doesn't need much explanation. It is a theoretical number that everyone has. Whether it's true or not can never really be tested. However, Dunbar's number is only for the capacity. It simple suggests that if we meet new people above, this we will forget stuff about someone less important.

  Dunbar does suggest that this number includes family.

  The real philosophical discussion comes of this when you define what makes you 'know' someone or who counts as a 'friend'. So now, just to give a bit of clarity to this I'll point you towards a very loose idea from a philosopher named 'Buber'

  Buber suggested that everyone you ever really lay eyes on in your life fits into two catagories. The I-it and the I-thou. They work like this:

I-it is someone who you have no real interest in, or know of and might smile at when you see them. This is the relationship you have with people who bump into from school who you never really spoke to and all you do is ask how eachother is and go away. This could also be your Doctor, or optician or a teacher.

I-it is basically anyone, so long as they're the people who you don't really know, or need to know - they are just there.

  So this goes without say that these people are not your 'friend' or count in your 'friend group'.

I-thou on the other hand is the type of people you wish to 'probe further'. The people who your relationship is explainable and you are more than happy to sit down and find out more about each other. These are the people that you care about and have a relationship with - friends, family, and lovers.

  These people are people in your social network.

  Buber put forward this theory with the idea of explaining about God. However, that is irrelevant to our point right now. So God will have to wait.

Moving swiftly on...

  The six degrees of seraration, if you are unaware, is an idea first put forward originally by the playwrite Frigyes Karinthy. It basically suggests that on a 'friend of a friend' basis you are about six people away from any other person in the world. Here's how it works:

 - You are friends with person A.
 - Person A is friends with person B
 - Therefore you are one degree away from person B

  It's as simple as that. Now the problem comes when people ask how there can only be 6 people between someone in a small town in the UK and someone in a small town in China? Or in a tribe in the Amazon? Well that's where modern media makes everything much easier - and with things like travelling and the popularity of backpacking.

  For example, I (in the UK) know someone who sometimes lectures in random Universities. He knows the celebrity scientist Brian Cox. Brian Cox knows the comedian Paul Merton and the legend Stephen Fry. Paul Merton did a documentary in China, and Stephen Fry in America. That puts me 4 Degrees away from loads of people in China and America. Then all the people they know puts me 5 away and then everyone they know puts me at that 6.

  This is quite an interesting web of social network. The fun comes where you pick celebrities and try to figure out how far away they are from you. You'd be surprised how many people are very close. There could be people who are only 1 degree away from you who you are yet to meet, and when you do meet them, then they unlock loads of other possibilities of who you could know.

  There are people who can move up from 5 degrees away to 1 degree away just because of someone on the new who you happen to talk to one day. There also could be people who are one drgree away all your life but never meet.

So, if we are to put these three theories together:

  We come up with something really rather interesting (to me) that means you have 150 people who you have an I-thou relationship with. Now if we just assume that everyone is at their capacity (although there are many people who have no friends. It's my own fault.) then we have a little bit of maths to do.

My name is Kyle. I have 150 I-thou friends. Each of those has 150 I-thou friends. I am 1 degree away from all of these people assuming that we do not know the same people.

150 x 150 = 22,500
22,500 x150 = 3,375,000
3,375,000 x 150 = 506,250,000
506,250,000 x 150 = 75,937,500,000

And within 3 degrees of separation, I would already know probably more than the total number of people who have ever lived.

  So this is where it's important to take into account that people know eachother. That your best friend and you probably share a lot of other close friends in your social web. So no matter how much it branches out, there will always be places where it returns back and finds someone who is closer. This removes some numbers from the web.

  If you take one route to find how far away you are from someone, there could be a second unknown route that puts you closer to them.

  On a final note. If you were to count everyone who ever lived, then the degrees get much longer as it has to sift through generations. But imagine how much closer you are than you think to Jesus, or Siddhartha Gautama (The Buddha).

My Dabblings in Low Fantasy.

Today, I managed to finish off my latest low fantasy short story, Of Deals and Undoings. This story is in five parts and is featured at the top of my WritersCafe website. It is my longest short story, standing only at seven A4 pages long.

But rather than posting that, which most of you wont be bothered to read, I thought I'd give a teaser to my other low fantasy short story, which is shorter and possibly (until today) my best work - judged by most people I know.

Here it goes, thanks :)

Letter To A Princess

  The feint rain misted the outside windows of the entirely wooden tavern, 'The Wood and Wood Inn', which did exactly as it said on the sign.

  "How, how, how can I win her heart? I wonder." He wondered, whispering whilst wandering around the wooden floors watching the wicker-work wench, made by the workers in the 'West's Winegrower's'. "Her dad will pick her a real man soon, so I must take my opportunity now!" gradually he got louder, slamming his fist on the nearest table. The three other men in the pub gave him an odd look before returning to putting their faces into their grog.

  The tavern was unnaturally quiet, but he paid it no mind; it was quarter past four in the morning, after all. He could not sleep. His thoughts plagued his mind, not only of himself and his beautiful hazel eyes tipping off his quaint sense of humour, or his gravely voice that was distinct to all the people in town, but of the noble he was so endearing to.

  Perhaps it was the fact that his birth, in a hut, on a full moon, was what lead Vitras to be an 'adventurer' by title. Being a shady character, he fit straight in the backward towns, as his 'business' was always dodgey or mainly illegal.

  But there was always the one backward town he knew and loved best: the town of Lindell.

  Vitras flicked back his crudely cut long brown hair, that he'd styled with a blunt knife. This was his trade mark, as he was known by many people and was the only male who dared to have long hair.

  The rain had stopped. Vitras stepped outside, mug in hand, thinking of the one girl on his mind and looking around the town. He was usually such a lonely character; most people would not think of him to be fond of anyone, but he most definitely was. He turned and started to walk to his favourite sitting place: 'The Rock'. A place he loved, a place you could look out to the horizon, the most perfect choice of a spot to sit, and think.

  “Hey! Bring my bloody mug back!” The barman suddenly burst out of the door of the tavern and ran out after him. Quickly, he snatched the tankard from Vitras' grasp and fixated his eyes on him with a cold, icy stare. “Thief”.

And as always. Here is the full story. Thanks for reading.

Sleep Paralysis

  So I thought I might as well post up one of my short stories. This is one that is very personal to me, and is probably one of my best works. It is a story about Sleep Paralysis, a disorder that I have. It is a very common thing, to the point the vast majority of the world will experience Sleep Paralysis once or twice, but very few get it as often as people like me.

  Sleep Paralysis is also the reason I am so sceptical, because it is generally factually known, with the vivid hallucinations and night terrors, to be the cause of a very large proportion of sightings of paranormal. It is probably, also, the reason for most creations of mythical creatures throughout history.

  I'll only post up a few of teaser paragraphs on here. You can find the whole piece at this link: http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/Vithisweet/763436/

Lingering like a warm death. I can feel the outline within my body, laid still. If demonic possession were possible - I know what it feels like. Then the pins, in their millions, strike my scalp like a violent shiver gone terribly wrong and it holds like the hairs on the back of my neck. As the pain disperses, my attempt at movement begins.

Numb. Number. Barely been asleep for a minute. Horrid urgency - I must move, I need to move. I cannot relax and wait for it to pass. Every muscle disobeys my command and my pre frontal cortex feels grey and dull. The numb intensity increasing with every time I try, yet I seem to be trying harder and harder. Move damn it. Move.

It's taunting me. I can still sense touch. I still have input from the body. I can feel my bedsheets and mattress. It's too hot for my body to stay under these covers. And yet every limb remains unresponsive and stiff. From where I am, I'm lucky that I can't see the time - that makes it last longer. Contained in the tiniest part of your head. An enclosed prison of dead weight.

 Thanks. :D

Shakespeare's Hamlet's Soliloquy. Modern day.

Just wondered how much Shakespeare would suck if he existed today. :P And also to show that you can translate it, it does actually mean stuff. This is my re-write of the most famous 'To be or not to be' speech in Hamlet. Enjoy. :D

To live or to die, that is the question.

  It is whether it is a more noble standpoint to take the pain of life and suffer or to stand against the shit that is thrown at you until they stop.
  If I died, would it be similar to sleeping?
  And by sleeping I mean to end all the heart ache and thousands of natural pains and emotions that my senses feel - that is a life that is desirable.
  If I died, would it be similar to sleeping?
  To sleep, and perhaps to dream? Ah! There's a point.
  And in this sleep of death what would I dream once my empiric and mortal life has gone.
  It must give us a break - and that's the respect we give to all the people who have lived the painful existence of such a long lasting life.
  For who would withstand the pains and lashes of time? The oppressor's incorrect ways. The insulting language of the proud man. The cringe of hateful love. The delay of the law.
  The incompetence of authority and rejection of patience that the unworthy man makes. For the hope that he commits suicide with a sharpened dagger.
  For who would bear the burdens of the slave driving of an unsteady life aside from the people who fear death.
  (death) That is the undiscovered land, of which anyone who enters will never come back. It puzzles every consciousness.
  And it makes us take all the issues and problems of life we endure rather than escape to other issues and problems that we don't know about.
  And therefore, our conscience turns us into cowards.
  And therefore, the colour that is made by the resolution of death is painted over by the weak and pale shade of our thoughts. Then is branched out of enormous central beliefs to other branches, and with this - their flow goes crazily far from the truth.
  And all further actions are therefore meaningless.

Calm down now. Ophelia, the most beautiful girl in my eyes. Must all my sins be remembered?

A Day at the Circus...

I think there are very few words that can describe what I saw today. The parts I managed to see through my bleeding eyeballs made me want to burn things. Mainly myself. There is no God.

There is a reason I went to the circus which mugged me out of £15.50 from the money I need to survive. His name is Sam. Also known as 'Jesus'. He was as aware as the rest of us what horrifying 'entertainment' (I use the term loosely... Or in fact completely detached) it was.

But still, if you see this guy...

You have my permission to give his beard a short sharp tug. (Or in the event he reads this and decides to trim his beard, pinch that painful bit on the back of his arm.)

So here's the short version of what happened at the circus. We walked there, and I said 'this better not be shit...'. Understatement of the decade. There was supposed to be a 'story' to it. There were some people doing some fairly impressive but entirely useless things broken up by a pair of cunts... Sorry, I mean clowns. So on every act all you're thinking is 'The clowns are on next, Oh God'. The only bit that really got people clapping and cheering is when the cun..clowns pulled out a sign saying 'Interval' which meant that it was going to stop. :) Then it started again. :( We were there for two hours.

...It's my birthday.



Here is the long version.

The circus started with some guy talking about Russia. For a lot longer than was really necessary. Then there was some absolutely terrible dancing. It was at this time we began to realise where all our money had gone. A paralytic flydmied child could have put more effort into busting some moves. Then they announce the beginning of the show. Facepalm.

Some guy walks on stage and falls over. Nobody laughs. Then holds an auction in which the winner didn't even get what they bought, but rather had to share it with everyone. Most of these items were never seen again. Pointlessness. Then the guy falls over again. Nobody laughs.

Just when we get to the point of questioning why there is a large metal hoop hanging from a chandelier, some girl decides to perform contortions in it while it's swinging. It's freakish. She started playing with extra hoops as well. Fair play. Your mother must be proud.

Now, when we were walking to the circus I said 'There better not be any clowns, they're not funny'. You can almost imagine the excitement on my face when the clowns walked on stage, they fell about a bit. Nobody laughs. Then they left, at which point I took my fingers out of my eye sockets. Sam and Ben occasionally shot glances at me to catch sight of how much I was enjoying myself. Sam knowing full well he was going to die.

There was a small fan at the side of the stage to blow the smoke about a bit. He was one of the best characters. There were some fairly impressive parts that were very drawn out. A couple decided to swing about a bit on some ropes; I assume that's what they do at home instead of sex.

After every act did the slightest of things, the attention seeking whores would walk to the front of the stage and hold out their arms like a crucified Jesus. (Which was a constant reminder that I needed to crucify Jesus (Sam)). People would sit like estranged automatons and give a half hearted clap in compliance. I didn't.

There was a good part though when a brunette walked on stage with very few clothes on. She was with some other girl who I barely looked at, and a guy the same. They stood on a table and span in circles with their roller-skates and waving a flag looking like a buffering symbol. Then the hot girl span more, she must have been dizzy, but I was too far away to take advantage and I'd left my chloroform at home.

The clowns were a constant disappointment. In the interval, Sam apologised to everyone profusely and Ben went to find a knife. I turned very quickly to medication and bouts of self-harm. Some woman came over to me and told me to take my shoes off if I put my feet on the chairs. Then asks me if I'm enjoying the show. Awkward. I said 'it's alright' in a very unimpressed tone. She was shocked and started saying how amazing she thought it was. Probably reminded her of her childhood back in the 1400s, when child abuse, slavery and animal torture were a a popular pass time.

Some guy started doing flips while standing on a pole that was held by some other men. He fucked up and fell. Do your job properly, I paid to be here. Some people came on skipping, which was pretty impressive. But then another one fucked up. Now I admit that I can't do any of these things. But I'm not the one standing on a stage showing all the wonderful things I can do (but fail at) and constantly force praise on myself.

There was one act that I literally had no idea what happened because I was busy watching some pointless girl who stood at the side waving her arm as if to say 'look at this - aren't they great'. I dunno, I wasn't watching them.

Oh my fucking God, the clowns. They got someone up from the audience to do hula hoops with them. She was surprisingly good at hula, and they got her to turn and bend over to the audience. I wasn't complaining. They did some thing where they were climbing up a ladder that wasn't balanced on anything and used it to slide a hat onto someone else. I tend to use my hands. But I hear ladders are all the rage in Russia.

They must have been. Because one man came on the stage with a trampoline, and spent 20 minutes not using it. Instead he repeatedly pretended to fall over and off a ladder. Nobody laughs. For 20 minutes. He then proceeds to stick is face in some girls tits and flirt with her. Her and her boyfriend switched places.

Two people dressed as cowboys began to play with whips (obviously had a better relationship than the roped couple). They whipped with a cracking sound which went on forever and got as irritating as a wet penis in the ear. Then the clowns had to be on stage for longer because as they wheeled a box on stage it got stuck on a cable and it took a guy in a high-vis jacket to sort it out. He then awkwardly stood behind the box for the entire section, unable to move. I lol'd.

More contortions happened. Some girl who could probably give herself oral. I hope her mother is proud of her.

The most moronic part was some guy wanted to get a chair... that was on the ceiling. Who sits on the ceiling? Then he proceeds to make a tower out of chairs to get this chair down. You have loads of chairs, why worry about the other chair? When he got it down everyone fought an broke it. Idiots.

When we were all finished not laughing at the clowns, some guys dressed as absolute colour fiends, (some sort of jester meets Robin Hood's men in tights made of Joseph's technicolour dream-coat), decided to flip around the stage for a bit. Then stood with their arms ready for the YMCA for 2 minutes lapping up praise. Attention! Give me all your attention! I can flip around (and fail a couple of times).

All of them came back for over 6 minutes of lapping up praise in the dismount position while some fat dude was dicking around. ...Just go away!

There were no enslaved animals or bearded ladies and 4 seconds of juggling on a unicycle. When it finished, I stormed out. I got out and had a very wonderful urinate. I got to the bottom of the stairs to see the annoying fat dude and I exclaimed 'Oh God' at him.

We went to McDonalds' afterwards, where I had a Happy Meal. The woman at the counter was the most miserable woman ever. There was no toy. It was a book. What fiendish joke is this?! We walked home pontificating the night's events and suicide. Even my meal was happier than I was.

The worst part about this, is that not only did I waste 2 hours of my life at the circus. I then proceeded to waste another hour writing about it.

Happy Birthday Kyle.

Birthday Boy.

So, it's my birthday today. Which makes me old. Of course though, last night's party was amazingly epic.

The idea was that everyone dresses as pirates. Everyone has some rum. (I tasted one of the nicest rums I've ever had.) And we are locked in the flat until all the alcohol was drunk. Problem being, everyone decided to leave the flat anyway - comming and going, and there was alcohol left over when we left. Every rule was broken. And my hat got stolen.

Handcuffs!

It was, however, pretty damn amazing - I think everyone enjoyed themselves.

I got some good presents for my birthday. Including a cool flashing glass, a massive cigar and even a Ferero Rochet (spelling). I also got Flanimals and Treasure Island as books (which are totally on par), and some stand up dvds.

Also, today - I'm going to the circus. Such fun :D

Kyle Michael Sweet = Seek The Wily Camel

Click the Image. Just sayin':

Poem for the day!

Thought I'd post a poem today. My short stories will come soon. But today, I thought I'd post something to get my blog on a roll. Everyone should note, that most of my poetry is quirky and generally tongue in cheek - not the boring old shit you got at GCSE English.

So here is my poem: 'Not Lonely... Just alone'

Nobody is lonely,

Everyone is alone.

You are all my friends,

But I like it on my own.

If you don't know me well -

Don't pretend you do.

Don't start suggesting things

That I would like too,

You've only just met me,

So 'whoopee-doopy-doo'.

Just admit, it's what you

want to recommend,

Yes it's what you like,

But to me it might offend.

We both have very different tastes -

Why can't you comprehend?

Just because, with someone else,

I happened to have a chat,

It doesn't mean that, when you hear,

You can interpret it as fact.

Yes, it's true, it was about you,

Stop acting like a twat.

I speak honestly to different people

In many different ways.

The way I speak to them is different,

I'm sure it wont amaze.

Of course it might sound bad to you,

But to them it might be praise.

Black is not a colour and

White is an extreme.

Grey is in the middle ground,

Although it might not seem.

In a world where concepts rule,

Language reigns supreme.

'Philosophical problems arise'

With language on vacation.

There are variations between

All views and classification.

They go beyond the languages set,

By any single nation.

And don't tell me off

For not talking to you either.

You also do not talk to me,

I definitely need a breather.

I haven't forgotten that you exist

I'm just putting you in the freezer.

It's often good to have breaks

From you or anyone.

You should have more friends than me

And I have more than one.

So start to care about all the others,

Stop acting Aryan!

Poem link is here.
All my writing is here.

About me?

Might be a good idea, to say a bit about myself of the likes I've never really done. So I'll write a few key things, I suppose.

• At Northampton University, I am currently studying Philosophy with Psychology. I have a quest for knowledge, I want to know and learn, so I do. I am possibly one of the cleverest people you'll ever meet for my age and situation, and I know it. People hate me for this. But I have my independence - so fuck you all! :D

(...Just realised that this is a place where I can speak in absolution and people will probably like it more than if I said it aloud. Awesome. Makes for more interesting reading, I suppose.)

• My favourite band is Incubus. I've liked Incubus for years and have all of their songs. I like them because you can appreciate the music, and every album is different, so there is always something to listen to. I also love chill out, acoustic, indie, classical, and a little rock and punk. Brandon Boyd, the singer of Incubus, is also an artist and drew the original picture of the angler fish that I now have tattooed on my arm.

The Day After, Was Still Sore.

• The Angler Fish Tattoo (Species: Black Seadevil or Melanocetus Johnsonii - Not 'the one from Finding Nemo) is my symbol, for ohh so many reasons. First of all, as a philosopher, for me it carries the idea of 'having a light when all else is in the dark'. Also, they are incredibly solitary and show much with evolution and perfect survival.... And so on, I wont bore you.

• I like appreciation. I've always been in love with horror, because I never get scared, and comedy - of which I know some from all over the board who are actually good and skillful. I'm not one to get stuck in the vast majority or common enjoyment. This also is shown through my writing.

• I've gone through many job ideas (Comedian, Counsellor, Police Dog Trainer, etc). Considering my subject course, there's not much I can get into... So I've settled on writing. I both enjoy and am good at it, so I can't really go wrong. I mainly write fiction short stories, and am soon starting my first novel. I also dabble in poetry and non-fiction rants / philosophies. Watch this space.

• I worked as a pirate for two years. This is interactive theatre, where I do mini-tours in character around some mannequin scenes and life in Cornwall and Pirate times. I did this because I'm a good actor and it's a hell of a lot of fun. I have performed a few performances over the years, even some that were self-written. It was never my passion though, just something I enjoyed. 

Curse of the Killergrews. Halloween Scare Attraction.

(Left to Right) Thomas Brown, Henry Avery, Peter Killigrew, James Hawkins.

• I am Cornish, born and bred. Lived in Newquay my entire life until university. This means my thoughts even offend myself, I hate everyone equally, I love pasties and I can drink like a fucking boss.

• My favourite letter is P, My favourite number is 48, my favourite colour is Purple.

That's a nut-shell isn't it? Cool. If there is anything else, just talk to me for fuck sake. I can hold a one on one conversation forever.

My First Real Blog Post!

So, I was pondering what the in the name of absolute flabbergast I can write on this blog. I came up with a few things like philosophies and just some opinionated thoughts. I might type up some of my rare but fun rants here, too. But mainly I want to post my writing.

The problem with this, is that I have a load of writing to post. So I don't want to post it all at once and let it be lost afterwards. So, do I leak it piece by piece, or separate it into genres? I'm not entirely sure... but it will be done slowly, and then I can just update it as I write.

Of course, all of my work can be found instantly at www.writerscafe.org/vithisweet, so do enjoy.

:D

However... just to kick start us off - here is a poem I wrote yesterday called:

'Creative Procrastination'

I spend time hesitating. I hesitate more than the things I do.
It takes up my time, waiting. I wish I didn't wait as I do.
If you repeat a word, it loses all meaning.
Going out is pointless if you spend more of your time preening.

I walk back and forth to the kitchen,
In an attempt to avoid work.
Not making advances on my short stories,
But writing this silly poem with quirk.

* * *
Thanks. :D