Calling all Tales of the Abyss fans: Daath Anthology!
Join it, pretty pleeease~♥

*karate-chops hiatus*
Shush, I'm sneaking on at camp. Unless my dad is checking on my dA page again to make sure and has decided to ground me for two more weeks, which would suck. A lot.

So, over the course of this writing camp, I have become rather fond of Voltage Mountain Dew, prosetry (which is the mangled mutation of style in which I often write), late-night pizza, my brown pen, and Johnny the Homicidal Maniac.

<- Tell me that picture's not awesome.

But this journal is mostly to lament MJ. I only got honest-to-hod interested in more than just making fun of his funny nose/pedo tendencies/racial transformation lately.
I could never take him seriously before, but I've realized that he made all of those legendary songs that I've known my whole life- Thriller, Smooth Criminal, Black or White, and so much more- and that finally instilled some deep respect for him. I'm glad that I grew to appreciate him before he passed as more than just a pop culture gag.
He's a legend, and I somehow think that his fame to future centuries will match that of Elvis. Neither of them died. They've both still got their music and their fans, even now. They've both got their fondness for odd pelvic movements. They're both musical gods.

May you thrust your pelvis with justice in whatever afterlife you believed in. Rest in peace.