Friendly neighbourhood thought slinger.

Category: Uncategorized

Once Upon A Nightmare

A snippet from an old dream of mine. I wrote this when I was 18!


A narrow alley snakes through a dark neighbourhood , and a tall, gangly figure stands at the end of it. It frightens her, but she continues to walk forward.  She can feel her pulse in her throat, and her hands are quivering and drenched in sweat. She tries to persuade her legs to stop walking but they continue to slowly march forward towards the figure at the end of the alley.

She can feel that a mural of fear is painted across her face. What is at the end of the alley? Why must she go forth and discover it? Her neck melts deep into her shoulders as she bows her head down. She must keep her eyes on the pavement so she can grasp onto her sanity. She has just taken her 40th step towards the figure at the end of the alley. Her eyes are glued to her shoes, and she begins to walk  faster. Faster. Faster. 43. 49. 52. She understands that the end is near but her neck will not reappear and her head will not sit upright. She can’t see what is in front of her and she becomes rigid with fear of the unknown. 56. 58. 60.

She drops to her knees and starts to crawl forward. She feels no pain as her knee caps smash against the rocky pavement. She wants to turn around and run away but her body drags her along the alley. Her palms rip open from the rocks and broken glass on the ground. There is blood everywhere. She can see it streaming through the crevices of her fingers and dripping down onto the ground. She can’t feel the wound so she ignores it, and continues to crawl. Why can’t she lift her head up? She created this world in her subconscious where nothing makes any sense, but she’s almost there.

She slowly regains the strength in her neck and she brings her chin up to her shoulders. There is a pair of spindly legs standing directly in front of her. She slowly starts to stand up. She brings her right leg up first, maintaining balance with her hands still on the pavement. She is still terrified. She stands up to look at the figure but the figure is faceless. Her mouth is dry and she can’t speak, although she tries. She reaches out to touch the figure by caressing its cheek. Her hand is moving in slow motion as her fingertips quiver slightly from fear and intrigue. The faceless angel is dirty, but has skin that is cashmere soft. She feels a sense of calm wash over her.  She is safe.The figure reaches out to touch her arm and its touch was cool, and damp. After a few very short seconds of intrigue and intense emotions from her discovery, she finds herself at the beginning of the winding alley again. Everything turns to black and white and the alley melts back into blackness. The figure disappears, and her wounds heal instantly. Everything is dark, and forver dark it shall remain, until the sun rises once again.


The Serpent Inside


  Our words, when spoken in anger, are the tormented spirits of our being. They skulk around our tongues, escape through the ridges of our teeth, across our lips and disperse aggressively into the atmosphere. And just as easily as those hateful words escape our grasp, they can return to haunt us with a vengeance.

           Thoughts have the ability to manifest themselves into bacteria and spike from our lips like daggers; slashing away at the fleshy vulnerability that is human emotion. Although I insist that words spoken in haste will unleash an evil most unforgiving, it is my unrelenting ego that insists that the birth of language (of any kind) also brought forth the birth of regret; thus revealing the humiliating, yet very liberating shackels of human benevolence. We understand this, and so we must be patient with our thoughts and choose our words carefully, or suffer the spiritual consequences. If we must speak and give birth to regret, then we must not give power to our regrets, for regret is a beast so foul, not even time itself can slay it. 

It is crucial that we understand the power behind our words and our voices. We must utilize this dangerous and beautiful gift of communication for the better of mankind. Let us collectively push our oars together against the thrashing waves of the storm and come out on the other side more inspired and grateful than ever before. Strive to inspire and be inspired by the thoughts and words of others, but most importantly, by the thoughts and words of yourself.

Emalee Fromstein/Lily Of The Arctic

Seduction Of Ink

   I don’t understand how authors can string together a novel so seemingly effortlessly. Authors are like snake charmers; making their words shimmy gracefully around your mind. It’s as if they have put you into a trance, creating a sultry rhythm between their words and your thoughts. I am forever searching for this treasure chest full of literary charisma that they seem to have stumbled upon. There is an agony to writing that not many people can understand. It is pure lustful torture and I am its’ begging mistress!


Emalee Fromstein/ Lily Of The Arctic






My Cheet Coades Tu Wryting Goodley

Here it is guys. The moment you’ve never waited for. You will have little to no use for this information, but you will probably go ahead and read it anyway, won’t you? Wimps.

I want to share a secret with you. This will hopefully inspire young writers who are struggling with their ideas. It’s helped me with my writers block on many different occasions. It is simple & silly – and I swear by it.

When reading novels by other authors, I often imagine that I am the one who has written the book. This method allows me to read with the greatest care. Writers unfortunately have an ego, and will read their own work over and over again, criticizing every word in every sentence until they feel that it’s perfect. In fact, writers are so critical of their own work that they often can’t conjure new and inspiring thoughts, for fear of becoming discouraged by their own tormented criticisms. The problem with this is that they’re only reading and criticizing one specific writing style; their own!  

By reading someone else’s work as if it is your own writing, you can start to appreciate and learn from different writing styles, and learn to respect and criticize good and bad writing. Once you have a better understanding of what good and bad writing is, you can apply that understanding to your own writing. You know which pieces of “your” writing you enjoyed and which pieces you did not.

Some novels are so badly written that I’ll take it personally, and as a result I will strive to become a better writer.We need good and evil in order to differentiate between the two, just like we need good and bad writing. Keep it coming! I’m just getting started.


Okay, bye.

Emalee/Lily Of The Arctic


A Light In A Dark Place

“We are nothing but fragile dandelion spores being thrown into the wind. We know not which direction we are headed, or at what speed we will be soaring. We are in the hands of an unstoppable force; a temperamental gust of uncertainty. We may be allowed to rest our souls for a minute or two, but eventually we will be encouraged to uproot and take off once more. It is this looming fog of uncertainty, luck, fate, and chance that comforts us. Though uncertainty is menacing, we will always crave it because we know that it will always be a constant in our lives. We seem to find comfort in this moon-dance between the angels and the demons. We can blissfully fall back on the thought that we know absolutely nothing about the Universe, its treasures, and its dark chasms of the unknown.”

- Emalee/Lily Of The Arctic

Authors Notes

Hey folks – it’s been a while. I don’t normally shut up for more than a few moments, but i’ve been working on something kind of special. As some of you know, i’m a write-aholic. My dreams speak to me. Crazy, I know. I’ve been more than inspired to say the least. I’ve been working on a novel for the past little while. My thoughts are all scribbles and barely legible notes in millions of different notebooks, but it’s slowly all coming together. Here are my pre-novel thoughts. Thank you guys! xo

Authors Notes


Your subconscious has the potential to unlock realms of immortaliy unlike anything your conscious mind could ever conjure. I’ve  travelled through galaxies, breathed underwater,  graced the clouds, lived the life of another and challenged the most terrifying cast of demons; all without leaving the comfort of my own bed. I wanted to give others the opportunity to climb into my subconscious and take a look at the ongoing reel of vivid, beautiful, yet haunting imagery that I am priveleged enough to see every night.

Your subsonscious is like the greatest novel ever written. Your imagination is the editor, illustrator and publisher, helping to propel your minds art into this very human realm of normalcy. There is so much magic that can be discovered through your dreams. This is a world that never lacks colour, passion, or adventure.

 It has taken me 23 years of estoric hypnosis to finally throw my subconscious into a novel. The content of my stories have all come from my dreams; some of which have brought me to tears. Other dreams have made me laugh uncontrollably. All of them have made me a stronger person; shaping my intellect, my sense of humour, my morals and my judgement. I am thankful that I was chosen to go on these adventures, and that I am able to share them with all of you. I hope that you are able to find quality and purpose in these stories, as I have.

I know that you will fall in love with these characters as I have, and that you can envision the literary landscape that my mind has painted for you. My only hope is that I can entertain those who dare to dream, and give inspiration to those that cannot.


Thank you.


Emalee Fromstein

Female Shoppers & Their Male Slaves

Hello you no-good do-gooders.

I feel so bad for those men that get dragged into women’s department stores. They stand around waiting for their girlfriend with a very blatant  I-don’t-belong-here look on their face, slowly walking around the aisles bored out of their mind. I sympathize with them because I hate it when someone asks me to go shopping with them. It’s annoying. Afterall, most women in these stupid stores spend 40 thousand hours trying on clothing that is too small for them because they think that they can fit their size 8 ass into a size 2 skirt.

You ladies drag your poor boyfriends into the store and make them wait for you. You have to give men a little bit of credit though because they come up with some clever ways to escape this situation. They will say everything you try on looks great even though it’s 4 sizes too small and you put it on backwards. They’re just being nice to preserve their sanity.  They really just want to take you by the arm and pull you into the nearest ‘gadget’ store. If it were up to them, you’d forget the clothing and walk around naked. So, their opinion doesn’t really count. I don’t know why women haven’t figured this out yet. 

I’ll be zipping around a store and i’ll bump into 40 different men who are awkwardly standing around waiting for their girlfriends. It’s almost as if they’re mannequins purposely placed beside heavily populated clothing racks to bug the shit out of efficient shoppers. I have to deak you out in order to look at potential closet-worthy items. Well, fuck you. I’m tired of deaking you out. I shouldn’t be punished because your dumbass pillow bunny is punishing you. Honestly, I bet i’d be pretty damn annoying too if my boyfriend took me to an EB Games store and I stood there innocently in front of the NEW ARRIVALS section and wouldn’t move. Wow, I can just sense the shuddering of the men reading this right now.


Once i’ve found an item, I don’t usually try it on, but sometimes if I have a little bit of extra time i’ll indulge in a fitting room clothing quickie. I’ll exit the fitting room to look in the mirror, and your boyfriend is trying not to stare at me. This doesn’t bother me at all, but it should definietly bother you. Especially because you don’t know that while you’re in the fitting room changing into your 40th outfit, he’s checking out every single girl that walks in and out of that change room. (If there ever was a true statement in my blogs, let it be this one.) Amen.

So, what started out as a pleasant afternoon of shopping, turned into a boring, resentful, booty-oggling, time wasting, yawn-fest for your boyfriend. It’s amazing that more couples don’t leave department stores single.

But if that’s the case then maybe I should go shopping more often so I can finally snag myself a bored-to-beans beau. Your beau. 

Just kidding.

But seriously. 

K bye. 

Emalee/ Lily Of The Arctic

On A Scale Of 1-To-Annoying.

Hello Orangutan Breath!

 I’m annoyed about 96% of the day, but somewhere between my morning Starbucks and my evening Seinfeld I distinguished what is an acceptable level of social annoyance!  

Bad manners, poor hygiene, and blatant ignorance run rampant across our city, and honestly, I blame myself. It’s my fault.

I don’t blame the people who are too stupid to know any better. I blame people like myself, who do know better, but refuse to correct the behavior of those who do not. How can I be angry at the dog for peeing on my carpet, when I haven’t taken the time to house-train him? It’s about time we house-train this city and it’s pee-happy dogs. Hopefully we won’t need the muzzle. 

Instead of swearing under your breath and getting angry, it’s okay to do the following:

-  To cover your face with a scarf if someone smells bad. Seriously, I do this every single day. & I hope that it makes you uncomfortable because your odor is making me gag. Not only will I cover my face in a very dramatic fashion, but i’ll also stare directly at you through the little eye-slit between my hat and my scarf to let you know that you are the culprit behind this foul-smelling nasal felony. Let your smelly, guilty conscience arrest thee, heathen!

- It’s okay to make faces in front of smokers. I know a lot of smokers, and I get it, you guys love it, but what you can’t deny is that a.) you look kind of silly doing it, b.) it’s not good for you, and c. ) it’s not good for me either. So, I propose that if you’re going to smoke, and walk slowly in front of me on a busy sidewalk, forcing me to breathe in your deadly fumes and make my hair and clothing smell like a cigarette factory then I have permission to speed up beside you, and give you a once-over with this face:

Don’t worry smokers, I still love you. I’d just never hire you or date you. Just know, you’d be annoyed too if I kept throwing latkes at you while you were walking down a busy street. The oil on those babies would ruin your clothing too. 

-It’s okay to challenge some of the crazy homeless people in this city. They’re only crazy because no one takes a minute to acknowledge their existence. Out-crazy them. You’ll show them that they’re not so different from you and I. It should prove to be a liberating experience for the both of you. Worst case, they out-crazy you back, and then you’re faced with a Mexican stand-off with Toothless Joe over who can make their eyes more googly. Win/win imo.

What i’m trying to say is, the next time you’re faced with an annoying social situation, you should take a breath and teach the young stupid grasshopper how to behave. They say it takes a village to raise a child. Well, what can be said about the village when they’ve raised the village idiot?


Emalee/ Lily Of The Arctic

A Lesson In Modern Dating

Hello carnivores, herbivores, omnivores… and plain old vores!

At some point in our adolescent-adult lives, we will trade in our (very legitimate) fear of cooties in exchange for a very exciting game of “chasing tail.” Please don’t think that becoming an adult makes you immune to cooties, because that is very far from the truth. We’re all dirty disgusting sweat hogs that crave each others germs. Circle, circle, dot, dot Mr. Pigpen. 

Attraction is addictive. We love loving things. We all have addictive personalities when it comes to the music we love, the food that we eat, the thrills that we engage in. We love to make ourselves feel good; the thrill of interaction is no different.

But let’s be honest here, some of us are socially friggen awkward. The dating scene is fucking hilarious these days and I think it’s because people are becoming more and more impatient with dating. Perhaps it’s because sexuality is all around us. We’re desensitized to the dirty world of sexy wonders. (sexy world of dirty wonders?) Oh well.

We’re all a little hilariously awkward.

Guys, it’s nice of you to buy a drink for a lady at a club, but this does not mean that she owes you anything.  Some girls will mistake you buying her a drink for her owning your life and your bar tab for the rest of the night, until she leaves the bar, without you, and passes out in a cab on the way to her boyfriends house. FYI – Flashing a smile will work just as well as flashing money, except the rejection costs less.

Ladies, it’s okay if he doesn’t text you every second of the damn day. “Hi baby, what are you doing?”  Then of course he’d reply with, “Hey baby, i’m expelling some urine, but don’t worry i’m texting with my left hand lolz haha teehee.” This happens more often than you’d think. Put the phone down and focus on something more important, like the dishes.  (By dishes I mean your life, but I had to make sure you were still paying attention.)

Sexism isn’t (always) funny. 

The weirdest bunch of daters are the non-dating daters. These are people who crave attention but don’t crave the commitment. These are the people that purposely walk past construction sites to get whistled at. Don’t lie ladies, you know you’ve purposely crossed the street to a construction site to get a hootin-and-a-hollerin’! (I have. But it wasn’t even one time, it was like half a time.) ;)

I think that everyone needs to just tone it down a few hormonal decibels. I’m aware that decibels measure sound strength – not hormones – but you can hear your rampaging hormones from Mars. 

We need a new seduction method. We should try shoulder-tackling each other. Enough linebackers in this city seem to shoulder-tackle me on the regs, and if it weren’t for my iRage, i’d be making out with their cheekbones. 

Remember kids: If you really want to seduce someone new, wink at them suggestively then run away quickly in a very awkward lunging sprint. Try not to trip though, or you’ll turn their confused lust into comedic pity.

Emalee/ LilyOfTheArctic

Mr Tick & Mrs Tock Ran Away With The Spoon

Hello mortals, near mortals, and immortals!

(I don’t discriminate)

 I recently learned a plethora of valuable life lessons. Well maybe just 2 lessons;  one being that I shouldn’t buy candles that smell like mint chocolate. The delicious aroma will only jostle me while i’m sleeping, and lure my partially comatose ass into chewing lustfully on my tasty ‘mint chocolate’ smelling furniture. . ..


The Second; I realized that going out and buying scented candles was a tremendous waste of my time. Seriously. TREMENDOUS I SAY!

People like Albert Einstein, Steve Jobs, Ernest, and Inspector Gadget, all had closets full of the same types of clothing. Why? Well it’s not because they couldn’t afford a wide variety of light cotton blends. They simply realized the time that was wasted in deciding what to wear everyday.

My Closet. Laundry Day Is A Doozy.

So, what defines wasted time? Time-wasting is a self-induced disease that we infect ourselves with. It’s the love-child of  Dr. Laziness and Prof. Lack o’ Passion. Time-wasting is a curable ailment, and all it takes is a little drive. Time management is extremely important to maintain an efficient lifestyle, but of course that’s all relative to each individual and to each circumstance. I’m pretty efficient but there are some strange things that I do that might constitute wasting time; one being that I constantly try to flex my brain. 

Don’t laugh. When my brain is a muscled up stud, and yours is a pile of moderately fresh compost, you’ll wish you attempted a brain flex or two.

I’ve also sat in my apartment after dark and watched every single moving light in the sky to evaluate what type of aircraft it might be. Plane? Fighter Jet? Hover Craft? Helicopter? Mechanical Pterodactyl? 

Between the hours of 7 and 10 there are approximately 6 helicopters and 18 airplanes that fly into my ‘experimental zone.’

Unless they’re giving out awards for the ‘Most Bored Person In The World’… this is an obvious waste of my time. 

So, people of the internet. I’d say that if it prolongs your health or if it maintains your happiness, then it is not a waste of your time. Make yourself healthy and happy, while helping others do the same. I’m not being a preachy peachy, but I look at multiple photo albums of drunk weekends and I can’t help but shake my head at the time being wasted while you’re unconscious or with your head in a toilet.

.. and then I frown with envy.

Bye For Now!

PS Reading this blog post was not a waste of time.

PPS Go ahead and read my other posts while you’re at it. 

PPPS Okay this specific post is a waste of your time.

PPPPS .. Bye.

Emalee / LilyOfTheArctic


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