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The Autobiography of Scootaloo - ForewordHello, dear reader. My name is Amber Dash, I am the daughter of a wonderful mother, Scootaloo, and a loving father, Featherweight. Upon the passing of my mother, I was willed her diary. She had it for most of her life, and filled it with entries of her everyday and her adventures. The text is slightly abridged to keep pace, removing only short common entries, but I assure you that you are only missing things such as "went to the store" and "nothing interesting happened today" or the most basic of mundanities. I assure you that I have left the story of my mother as in tact as possible. I want the world to know of how wonderful my mother was.
I appreciate you taking the time to look into the life of a mare who was there for me in my hardest times. My mother lived a good life, all things considered, though she, like all of us, had her struggles along the way. Her story here begins when she was nine, coping with the struggles of losing her parents. I may have never been able to meet my gra
SPD - Entries 344-348 *body image trigger warning*Entry 343:
Featherweight is still unsure of his father being in a new relationship. I finally put him in a headlock and shook some sense into him when he said his dad should have never found him. I was so mad it's a wonder I didn't knock him out. The nerve. I think I really freaked him out, because he was quiet for quite a while. I didn't want him to think I didn't want him to talk about what was going on, so I eventually asked why he was being so ridiculous.
He said more than anything right now he feels guilty. He said he feels like a real mule for being upset about his dad doing something for himself. He said Shutter Speed almost never does things for himself. He's always worried about Featherweight, and the fact that Featherweight acted so selfishly has him feeling rotten. I told Featherweight that what was happening right now was a life-changing event for everypony involved, and that he has a right to be worried, but he has to give his dad the room to live his life.
Then I told him
TunnelvisionIn this crippled, cracked cityscape of concrete and glass
I just watch from my window as the people walk by
Oblivious to the struggles of their fellow public,
Such as Eric, frantically searching for cash to get back his pick up
That his friend left double parked and resulted in a tow
Losing his job may as well be deathrow for his son
Andy's leukemia treatment cost is astronomical
The fear in Eric's mind digs a festering hole
In his heart as he goes for a payday loan
Knowing the debt will do nothing
But throw more obstacles
In the path of his escape from this fiscal hell
Established by coats who can't even tell the kind of
Destruction they've left on this man and child,
Their hearts are hardened and their wallets are padded,
With green like the weeds breaking through the sidewalk
As Eric signs the four hundred percent interest agreement,
No other choice
While businessmen in their highrises hold
No remorse for the rejected insurance claim
No sympathy to share for the man whose wife, the
Entries 337-42Entry 337:
The new year is here! I spent the night with Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom in the clubhouse. Several of our other friends were over until the new year began. Big Mac and Applejack walked everypony else home. Over the rest of the night we found out that we aren't drummers (although I still think I did a pretty good job. Sweetie Belle couldn't understand what I was saying afterwards, though. Maybe I was too loud?)
It's been a pretty slow couple of weeks. Class starts again, soon. I'm kind of ready to go back, but I still wish I could spend more time with Featherweight, he's still having troubles dealing with his dad's relationship. He's handling it better, but he's still nervous about becoming second colt. I've told him so many times that he's ridiculous, but he's just, well, Featherweight.
I sat next to Featherweight during class on the first day back. I didn't want him to think that things would be different just because class has started again. He seems a bit, I don't know,
Anything Will Do"Got any change?"
She asks, as you pass, clenching wallet in a guarded stance--lest you have to give your poker night spares to a nearly starved woman.
"Got any change?"
She pleads, groveling to the masses, staring desperately to her dog, sole companion of the scot-free foreclosure market that stole her, and her only friend's, home.
"Got any change?"
She cries. "I'll work for whatever you can give."
Nobody will hire the woman who can't pay her bills post-layoff in the scot-free we-don't-need-you-anymore factory, whose robots work harder and complain less than mere mortals.
"Got any change?" She pleads, not asking for cash--demanding action.
"Is your life any better?"
She rises from her defeated pose--A vigor in her heart carrying her starved body to its frail feet.
"Change. Stand for good enough no more.
Since when is good enough good enough?
Since when is just fine fine at all?
Since when is just getting by acceptable?
I'm not the only one who needs change around here."
A Lot To Be Thankful ForI've come a long way in life.
Once upon a time I was little more than a child,
son to two loving parents,
a thing I am always thankful for,
even if it doesn't always show.
Since then, a small handful of amazing friends
show me that love can extend beyond blood
Friends who show me true kindness, loyalty and trust
A relatively new gift, in many ways,
but absolutely glorious, and something to cherish.
I'm happy to be born in a place where, even if it's dubious,
I do have freedoms, I do have rights, I can safely
walk out of my door, and not fear getting shot.
A place where medicine may not be free, but it actually exists.
I'm glad I have a fully functioning body, and fully capable mind.
I have the golden ticket. I have a stable family, health, mind, and home.
I have little in the big scope to complain about.
While these are the greatest gifts one can experience,
There is a lot in life to be thankful for.
I live in a place that has come a long way. It may not be perfect
But compared to twen
...Tension, is building between
our bones; cracking
these boundaries that bind
[lets not get lost in the moment
Our Wayward Starsguide the specimen
through the maze
and through the rain
rinsing our clothes
like they're still on fire
and somewhere, well
they probably are
and you pray
like tomorrow itself
is the fuel
that empties our dark places
like what lives there
goes away at dawn
but it doesn't
and i pray
like tonight itself
is the dark
that fuels our light
like what lives in each
feeds the ugly other
and it might
but, we're all prey
and the dream itself
is the place where
our chemical flames
hit the surface
flailing as we sink
in panicked clothes
from a distance
we must look like
lost, accepting the
drowning slow burn
of our descent
we look like what we are
I bet she smells of laurel and pineI've made a career of
standing on the back porch -
calling your name into
the wide-open ears of
You step from the house
to beckon me inside
but I swear a piece of you
is missing; escaped
into wilder arms years ago.
Asabikeshiinh (Filter)Asabikeshiinh (Filter)
I wear the dream snare like a chain.
The willow hoop filled with spider thread,
sway loose as the aves feathers
and the spun yarn traps the fallen.
I tread subconsciousness
like salmon swim
in the falls of Williamette.
And watch the net
take hold of chimera,
a phantasm of phenomena
as I greet the cousin of death
with a firm shake of the hand
and respectful grin.
But wisps of spirits tempestuous
reverberate throughout the lace,
as the new day slowly begins to take shape.
Light returns to Earth as my eyes open.
Conceptions' theories last so long
before absoluteness' presence grabs hold.
I'd rather immerse myself in abstractions.
Big BadI wanted to conquer the whole world, but
all I got was a dark room
and a fistful of dimes.
I remember being sixteen, an
American Spirit burning near my lips,
head out the passenger window
as we sped on like triumph...
You can laugh at the stars
for being so far
away, and it won't cost you
You can blow ash on the grass
and burn holes in the sole
of your shoes,
and it won't cost you
anything but time.
It was those nights
with the cigarettes
and the stars, there was
no promise in it,
no hope either. A big joke
we can all point at, we can
tilt the bottle and laugh.
The yellow half moon
half smiled with us.
The sun those nights
held its head with us.
Life without promise,
one big bad joke
and we were
the god damn punchline.
The Denial Of Truth?Why they
Don't listen to you,
Until it's too late?
Don't believe in you,
Until it's too late?
Start to listen
When it's too late?
Start to believe
When it's too late?
Couldn't listen to you,
When they should have?
Couldn't believe in you,
When they should have?
A Real JobThis sterile trap,
This corporate limbo,
Each day the same,
Data entry, data transfer,
Clicking and ticking of keys
In such great volume it sounds
Like heavy rain on the cold, cracked concrete.
This thin gray carpeted cubicle wall
Surrounds my exhibit room as I wait for lunch,
While white collars and other passers by
Look in at my simulated habitat.
Two frames, one with my wife,
The other with both of us, and the two kids
Adorn the otherwise light gray, fluorescent lit
Ten by ten square that is my territory.
I don't want to wait thirty years to retire
When I could have a job instead.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
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