» Full Dark, No Stars - Stephen King's new novella questions mankind's ability to trust others.
[02.21.2011 by Bridget Doyle]


 » The Top 30 Albums of 2010 - Fashionably, fabulously late, our favorite music (and believe me, there was a LOT) of 2010, the year that some have called the best year for music ever. And only some of those fools work here. Plenty of usual suspects, lots of ties and a few surprises that I won't spoil, including our unexpected #1.
[12.24.2010 by The LAS Staff]


 » Live: Surfer Blood/The Drums at Lincoln Hall, Chicago, IL - Remember when Weezer used to put together records that you could sing along to and rock out to? That's what Surfer Blood's show was like!
[11.04.2010 by Cory Tendering]

Music Reviews

Screaming Females - Castle Talk
»Screaming Females
Castle Talk
Don Giovanni
Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross - The Social Network [Original Soundtrack]
»Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross
The Social Network [Original Soundtrack]
The Null Corporation
Deerhunter - Halcyon Digest
Halcyon Digest
No Age - Everything in Between
»No Age
Everything in Between
Sub Pop
Robyn - Body Talk Pt. 1/ Body Talk Pt. 2
Body Talk Pt. 1/ Body Talk Pt. 2
The Walkmen - Lisbon
»The Walkmen
Fat Possum

March 1, 2001
A Whispering Melodic Chord

The question still remains: did I cherish the weirdness or loathe it? Or was it a fact that because I'm weird, then my surroundings were weird, like they were trying to outdo me? Maybe it was my relishing of the simple things, pushing simplicity to the limit. This could have caused a certain displacement, leading to further of such. How displaced could one be? What are the results of being in the wrong places?

The distinct possibility happens to those of the most unpredictable nature. Her hair turned sometimes, red, when dyed. Her figure was fine and her prettiness unexplainable. The analyzation of this turned the tides.

Higher communicative skills I possessed with ungratitude. A slight smirk was all I could really keep to myself. Pacing was terrible, as off balance as Los Angeles county. A highness for communication can cause a downslide. The phony behaviour of the unnecessary artifacts was ceaseless.

There was no accounting for over exaggerations. Mine was a case not purposed. I had at once become lost to the desire of purpose: a purpose sprang around every corner; the destiny that I would be confused and famous became commonwealth.

Eating chips to try and subdue the operation, the downslide of humanity neared. Easier possibilities of overwhelmance shattered my brash illusions. There created a dream, a leftover fantasy. My inkling for digestible behaviour was neglected. My duty for the disregardance of all personalities made itself clear in all the morningtimes. The conspiracy faded.

My lost heart would soon return whole-heartedly, and I failed. No longer shall there be any office duty, I am freelance. My soul has wept and the numbers of longevity and greatness pile up and abound. Weep not do I for any lesser chance, shall there be another life.

Loser only by chance. The becalmment of the graces we relax they appeal. A never intending disparagement of the senses I sh'ant not obtain. No fortune of terror does any few rekindle. A relaxed computation monitoire of the species we shall despire.

Means of reaction, clued into disarray. The one armed smoker listened to no one or nothing but his bus approaching. The thin air aided, the displeasement of all affairs there were, SURE. He ate and slept and wept.

The southwest apocalypse finally neared: soon the long wait would retire. I discounted this sentiment. The she/male had lost it's reigns on government - a wild horse hauled off into the nearest furnace with the flu. Ashes, a rendezvous with eternal moisture.

Tom Schmidt
No one really knows anything at all about Tom Schmidt.

See other articles by Tom Schmidt.



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