Agrippa
05-31-2007, 12:40 AM
I sit upon a stiff backed chair somewhere in the great void known as a Military Base. My fingers fly across the keyboard in some restless attempt to find a cure for a drug I can not obtain. Ahhhh to hear the sweet sound once again as the words fall from the lips of the damned to hammer down the vile foes which stand before our hero. Yes ... I live within oblivion where Bleach no longer exists and in such I crave that which I can not have.
For the past 10 weeks I have been in the middle of the long drawn out process called Bootcamp. The last episode I saw was 117 I believe and needless to say I couldn't have been cut off from my psudo addiction at a worse time. Go figure I wait 7 months to ship out and it's JUST before I leave that the series starts to get good again. Just my luck right. So instead of my weekly fix ... you get words instead.
These words are spawned from the mind of the poorly entertained. Where going to the smoke-deck is about all my poor soul is allowed and the internet is filtered of it's fun. Ahhhh but there is hope in sight as the clock slowly ticks away toward a moment where I can obtain not only electronics of my own but an unfiltered highspeed connection to go with it. Then ... and only then shall I once again get my fix.
I shake like a crackhead ... and my mouth waters as if I were a starving man smelling a BBQd steak upon the air. Soon .... yes soon .... it shall come and then I shall yell BANKAI as I am rereleased once again into the Wired with full motion and sound.
Lock up your pets for the clouds are gathering upon the horizon.
agR|Ppa
For the past 10 weeks I have been in the middle of the long drawn out process called Bootcamp. The last episode I saw was 117 I believe and needless to say I couldn't have been cut off from my psudo addiction at a worse time. Go figure I wait 7 months to ship out and it's JUST before I leave that the series starts to get good again. Just my luck right. So instead of my weekly fix ... you get words instead.
These words are spawned from the mind of the poorly entertained. Where going to the smoke-deck is about all my poor soul is allowed and the internet is filtered of it's fun. Ahhhh but there is hope in sight as the clock slowly ticks away toward a moment where I can obtain not only electronics of my own but an unfiltered highspeed connection to go with it. Then ... and only then shall I once again get my fix.
I shake like a crackhead ... and my mouth waters as if I were a starving man smelling a BBQd steak upon the air. Soon .... yes soon .... it shall come and then I shall yell BANKAI as I am rereleased once again into the Wired with full motion and sound.
Lock up your pets for the clouds are gathering upon the horizon.
agR|Ppa