Who am I?: My name's Lorcan. I know weird, right? The true Gaelic spelling is 'Lorccan'. It means "little fierce one" in English. Go figure...Where am I?: Ivy Exchange in Dublin City, Republic of IrelandAge 20 years old
Sex: Yes please.
Occupation: Writer.
Aim In Life: Be a burden on society, failing that, a poet-cum-novelist.Most Hated Things: Rude people, bad drivers, spiders and the dark. Favorite Authors: Anything by Sylvia Plath, Elizabeth Wurtzel, Tibor Fischer, Virginia Woolf, Wei Hui, Bret Easton Ellis, William Nicholson, Milan Kundera, Siri Hustvedt, Franz Kafka and of course the delectable Michael Cunningham, Melissa P, most poetry. Movies: Way too many to mention but if forced to pick a top six I'd say Magnolia, The Grudge (original), The Hours, A Home at the End of the World, Postcards From The Edge & Lady Vengence. Music: Anything but country. I love Tori Amos, I like PJ Harvey, Jack Johnson, Imogen Heap, Coldplay, Bruce Springsteen, Tricky Blowback, Fiona Apple, Garbage, The Pretenders, and anything else basically. 80's stuff is cool too, The Shins and The Doors rock!.Favorite Person: My boyfriend Matt, my friends Susanne, Jenny and Willim, also Cathy, Jonnz, Gary, Heather, Paul and Kiran and a handful of others! And of course my dog Roxie, not human, but she still counts!
Fav Quote?: "Everybody is always tugging at you. They'd all like a sort of chunk out of you. I don' think they realize it, but it's like 'grrr do this, grr do that...' But you do want to stay intact--intact and on two feet." --Marilyin Monroe
"Razors pain you, rivers are damp,
Acid stains you, drugs cause cramp,
Guns aren't lawful, nooses give,
Gas smells awful,
you might aswell live!"
--Dorothy Parker
[BobbyJohn] Meet Beej! Fun, interesting and even has a cast list! Classic.
[Adam] A cute Chicago blogger who's precocious vocabulary is put to good use. Excellent entries which keep you coming back for more. Beautiful grasp of language, I defy you not to be impressed.
[Ginger] Interesting and amusing entries. You'll just want to carry her around in your pocket!
[Mark Wilkinson] A very interesting guy and some very interesting blogs too...refreshing.
[Bryanboy!] A bisexual internet icon who is creative, and hilarious. I love his blog. THIS ROCKS!
[Gloriana] What's not to love?...
[Serena] Sensitive and gentle musings from a deep south singer, with some really cool lyrics. You'll find it really difficult not to love this blog.
[Marky] Some basic downloads here, I'm trying to convince him to start a blog, 'cause he'd be a good blogger, click on and pester him!!
[Chloe] Introspective and talented artist chick. She'll keep you thinking and coming back for more. Like a clingy puppy.
[Paul] Oh what is there to say? I find this hard to stop reading. Criminal! Period.
[Xaos] I like Xaos! Poetic and hypnotic. Xaos is just Xaos, and we wouldn't want it any other way!
[Happy & Gay] Some thought provoking entries here. Make this blog a sure stop.
[Rob] A friend of mine who matriculates at the most famous uni in the country, Trinity. Rob's pretty shy, but funny and ultimately unknowingly charming. Looking for humorous intelligence? It's all here.
Favourite memory?: Probably my first date with Matthew, and also my last night working in the wine store, Jenny, Willim and I went out for drinks and got very drunk. Good memories! And MAN those hotdogs from the street stall were DAMN good!
Near death experience?: A serious suicide attempt.... a few drugs overdoses but nothing too serious *cheeky smile*
Best experience: Eating chocolate. Always. Or a really good orgasm, but it's a close call.
What are you reading at the moment?: "Veronika Decides to Die" by Paulo Coelho. Brilliant, and believe it or not, very uplifting. Recommended!
Excerpt from The Voyage
Lorcan Black
"The moon is high, and white, like the eye of some God peering down at us through some hole in the heavens. The stars are cold and appear as though sprinkled across the stratosphere like sugar, or crystallised salt.
It is the sea that draws me down here. As a child, at night, restless or sleepless I would sneak from the house and come down here. Down where the shells are washed up onto the beach, where odd trinkets slipped or overthrown from passing ships way out on the ocean are offered to us, as sacrifices washed in from the sea.
At night there is a certain calmness, a quietude not found anywhere else. It is known only to those who live by the sea, who know that it is not merely an ocean, it is a being. Great, ancient and to be respected.
I used to sit here, for hours; shoeless, sockless, my feet in the sands. Our rambling old house watching over it, like a mother, perched on a spit of land looking out onto the sea. This old house was so aged that it almost breathed itself, watching out over the sea like a sentry from sunrise through sunset. The back garden runs toward the cliffs, if you hop our wall in the back garden and follow a trail down the hillside to the right, it will lead you to a stretch of beach and it is here that I sit. The sun has already set, I came late and my father and stepmother had already departed for the airport, and I was left alone, as I had wished.
A cool wind blows in off the sea. Waves roll into white surf and fizz on the sand, gurgling and spitting over rocks as the sea drags them back out. I sit there for hours.
As I stand to go in, I am irrepressibly drawn further down to the water, to the white of the surf. The cold washes my feet and dazzles my toes with its coolness. Each new wave that rolls up swashes around my ankles until I can no longer feel any warmth from them.
I think how easy it would be. How peaceful, to be washed away by the sea, caught in it’s own natural dragnet of currents. Washed out to the centre of this great being, to be swallowed up in the spit of some unknown God, washed white and sinless.
It could be so easy, I think, as my toes flirt seductively with the fresh wash of waves rolling in, the hiss on the sand augmented in my ears by the night’s silence. I walk in deeper, deeper still, until I am knee high in the water and it rushes in with the tide, closer, further, up, up, up until I am hip high, tendrils of seaweed tickling at my feet, sinking slightly into the underwater sand as another wave knocks me off balance.
It would be easy. I would wash up somewhere eventually, another beach or a dock, perhaps further out, perhaps upon the rocks of the land spit, home to the lighthouse. There they would find my body, wrapped in sea weed, skin pickled by the salt, and bloated with water. No longer a name, no longer a mind, no longer living… it is just me and the sea, to whom I offer up my penances, and it takes them gladly. The moon watches, the stars wink and somewhere nearer to the village a dog is barking in the on-coming blackness."
©The Voyage*, by Lorcan Black, 2006...
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You Are 72% Evil
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You are very evil. And you're too evil to care.
Those who love you probably also fear you. A lot.
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You Are 87% Sexy
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Your Sex Appeal Is: Off the Charts!
Let's face it... you're one of the sexiest people around. And you don't let anyone forget it.
You're crazy hot, and you deliver on what you promise. You are definitely one wild ride.
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Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Okay. Discussion time. Leave your comments as always.
We all know I've had my skirmishes with drugs. You could pretty much say I ordered a la carte and had a bite of most of what was on the menu (coke, E, acid, marijuana and magic mushrooms).
I don't do that shit anymore, but when does the line between using and abusing blur? When does a user, become an addict? It is suffice to say that anyone who uses drugs at all is an addict? Basically the media portrays users (of any kind) as people who will sell their grandma's to gather cash the next fix.
Having been in a bad place on drugs years ago, I can still say I got out of it. I knew one guy who sold his car for drugs, I know another that died from prescription drugs overdose (unintentional). I know what I'm talking about on this territory. I abused drugs, and I almost paid for it. I learned my lesson.
I know plenty of people who smoke weed and aren't dependent or could be even remotely classified as addicts. I don't think someone who smokes a joint now and then is an addict, or a dope fiend unless they're dependent on it. If there's dependence, then that can lead to addiction. That's the line. Yet the media portrays anyone who touches even marijuana into being a dope addict. I'm not arguing with this, you could say it should do so (so kids don't get the wrong idea).
But shouldn't everyone at least be fair to those who control themselves and not label them addicts unduly? Or are we being too socially acceptable? When do we draw the line, between addicts and people who are just having a good time?...
Your thoughts please. Illuminate me!
Posted at 08:50 pm by Guy,Interrupted
 |  |  | J f Z August 4, 2007 11:08 AM PDT
I personally think legal cigarettes are more addictive than illegal marijuana. The only reason marijuana is illegal is not because of its physical effects when smoked; it's illegal because governments can't figure out a good way to control it and make money from it. It's a weed. Anyone can grow it anywhere. Not a good tax model.
Sure, there are anti-everything evangelists. Smoking anything is not healthy for people. I think both extremes of the issue go beyond common sense and into emotional nonsense. |  |
  |  |  | Bobby McGee August 4, 2007 02:57 AM PDT
How is alcohol any different than pot? In fact, how is it not worse? |  |
  |  |  | A*na August 2, 2007 01:19 PM PDT
Biologically, all drugs are addictive. So if you do take them often enough, you should be addicted, and thus called an drug addict. I don't mean you, as in general.
Of course I'll never dare try. Unless someone prove me the texts are lying.
Anyway are you affected by how ppl label drug users as addicts? Ppl in my social circle seem to be kinda proud about their use of drugs, haha.
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  |  |  | Marky July 24, 2007 04:21 PM PDT
Well, I don't believe that one needs drugs in order to have a good time - its not worth it because of the health risks involved...
A good dose of alchohol every now and again is okay - not as risky as drugs and its all one should need to enjoy themselves anyway!
Of course, there's other types of addiction - not always the type that the subject matter of the addiction is the pleasure... sometimes we get addicted to a process, and idea or a concept and use it as a crutch to escape from... stress and insecurity?
Wherein lies the essence of whats been troubling me lately... although its too upsetting to specify... |  |
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