NAME: Tim "The Hungriest Hungriest Hippo" Davidson.
AGE Sixteen, though I've oft been told to wield the maturity and perspective of my big brother (eighteen).
FEMALE/MALE: Gender is not a binary function. All aspects of sexuality are defined as a spectrum, and I won't waste my time explaining the processes by which I deciphper my spot on it.
WHY SHOULD I DATE YOU? Through myself you may find your only opportunity in life to become red pilled. I will reveal to you the brilliance of nature, life and culture.
WHERE DO YOU LIVE? I am a resident, if you will, of the internet; a place where borders and law are meaningless connotations to a primitive society.
ARE YOU A PSYCHOPATH? Is that the cool one? Which one was Sherlock? I'm either that or a sociopath.
WHAT IS LOVE? "Love" is nothing more than a series of neural reactions to chemical stimuli. Those who believe in love as a supernatural force disgust me.
WHICH GIRL DO YOU PREFER? (STRAIGHT-BI-GAY-WTV) All beings are fragments composing a boundless chain of interconnective energy, and I will open myself to any with open arms.
deletedabout 9 years
You know would make lucid more money? Making EM primarily a mafia gaming site, secondarily a dating hook up site.
I can see it now, blind date mafia, where you and yourdate are are mafia partners in an anonymous set up and have to work together to take down the village.
NAME: Jerry AGE 62 FEMALE/MALE: Male WHY SHOULD I DATE YOU? You're the one asking for applications, I'm p sure you're the desperate one therefore you should be asking me why I should date you lol WHERE DO YOU LIVE? San Diego, CA ARE YOU A PSYCHOPATH? Sure WHAT IS LOVE? Me and you under the stars WHICH GIRL DO YOU PREFER? (STRAIGHT-BI-GAY-WTV) Lesbian THANKS.
NAME: Joe AGE: Well I'm a ghost, so... FEMALE/MALE: Ghosts have genders? WHY SHOULD I DATE YOU? Why not? WHERE DO YOU LIVE? The deepest layer of hell. ARE YOU A PSYCHOPATH? Duh. WHAT IS LOVE? Baby don't hurt me WHICH GIRL DO YOU PREFER? (STRAIGHT-BI-GAY-WTV) I'm a ghost, and therefore have no preference.
deletedabout 9 years
confirmed
deletedabout 9 years
NAME: Spud AGE: 1 season FEMALE/MALE: Spud WHY SHOULD I DATE YOU? starch WHERE DO YOU LIVE? idaho ARE YOU A PSYCHOPATH? spud WHAT IS LOVE? mashed with chives and gravy WHICH GIRL DO YOU PREFER? (STRAIGHT-BI-GAY-WTV) spud
deletedabout 9 years
On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And thro' the field the road runs by To many-tower'd Camelot; And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Thro' the wave that runs for ever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls, and four gray towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott.
By the margin, willow-veil'd Slide the heavy barges trail'd By slow horses; and unhail'd The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd Skimming down to Camelot: But who hath seen her wave her hand? Or at the casement seen her stand? Or is she known in all the land, The Lady of Shalott?
Only reapers, reaping early In among the bearded barley, Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly, Down to tower'd Camelot: And by the moon the reaper weary, Piling sheaves in uplands airy, Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy Lady of Shalott." There she weaves by night and day A magic web with colours gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott.
And moving thro' a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear. There she sees the highway near Winding down to Camelot: There the river eddy whirls, And there the surly village-churls, And the red cloaks of market girls, Pass onward from Shalott.
A GENTLE Knight was pricking on the plaine, Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde, Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine, The cruel markes of many'a bloudy fielde; Yet armes till that time did he never wield: His angry steede did chide his foming bitt, As much disdayning to the curbe to yield: Full jolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt, As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt.
And on his brest a bloudie Crosse he bore, The deare remembrance of his dying Lord, For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore, And dead as living ever him ador'd: Upon his shield the like was also scor'd, For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he had: Right faithfull true he was in deede and word, But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad; Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad.
Upon a great adventure he was bond, That greatest Gloriana to him gave, That greatest Glorious Queene of Faerie lond, To winne him worship, and her grace to have, Which of all earthly things he most did crave; And ever as he rode, his hart did earne To prove his puissance in battell brave Upon his foe, and his new force to learne; Upon his foe, a Dragon horrible and stearne.
A lovely Ladie rode him faire beside, Upon a lowly Asse more white then snow, Yet she much whiter, but the same did hide Under a vele, that wimpled was full low, And over all a blacke stole she did throw, As one that inly mournd: so was she sad, And heavie sat upon her palfrey slow; Seemed in heart some hidden care she had, And by her in a line a milke white lambe she lad.
Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within a forest dark, For the straightforward pathway had been lost. Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say What was this forest savage, rough, and stern, Which in the very thought renews the fear. So bitter is it, death is little more; But of the good to treat, which there I found, Speak will I of the other things I saw there. I cannot well repeat how there I entered, So full was I of slumber at the moment In which I had abandoned the true way. But after I had reached a mountain's foot, At that point where the valley terminated, Which had with consternation pierced my heart, Upward I looked, and I beheld its shoulders, Vested already with that planet's rays Which leadeth others right by every road. Then was the fear a little quieted That in my heart's lake had endured throughout The night, which I had passed so piteously. And even as he, who, with distressful breath, Forth issued from the sea upon the shore, Turns to the water perilous and gazes; So did my soul, that still was fleeing onward, Turn itself back to re-behold the pass Which never yet a living person left. After my weary body I had rested, The way resumed I on the desert slope, So that the firm foot ever was the lower. And lo! almost where the ascent began, A panther light and swift exceedingly, Which with a spotted skin was covered o'er! And never moved she from before my face, Nay, rather did impede so much my way, That many times I to return had turned. The time was the beginning of the morning, And up the sun was mounting with those stars That with him were, what time the Love Divine At first in motion set those beauteous things; So were to me occasion of good hope, The variegated skin of that wild beast, The hour of time, and the delicious season; But not so much, that did not give me fear A lion's aspect which appeared to me
deletedabout 9 years
“Think not, revolted Spirit, thy shape the same, Or undiminished brightness, to be known As when thou stood’st in Heaven upright and pure. That glory then, when thou no more wast good, Departed from thee; and thou resemblest now Thy sin and place of doom obscure and foul. But come; for thou, be sure, shalt give account To him who sent us, whose charge is to keep This place inviolable, and these from harm.” So spake the Cherub; and his grave rebuke, Severe in youthful beauty, added grace Invincible. Abashed the Devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely—saw, and pined His loss; but chiefly to find here observed His lustre visibly impaired; yet seemed Undaunted. “If I must contend," said he, “Best with the best—the sender, not the sent; Or all at once: more glory will be won, Or less be lost.” “Thy fear," said Zephon bold, “Will save us trial what the least can do Single against thee wicked, and thence weak.”
NAME: Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me. There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs—commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme downtown is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there. Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and from thence, by Whitehall, northward. What do you see?—Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep.
