Month: March 2013

: I honestly do not know why they do the ‘Rachel’s challenge.’Anyone…

tatelangdonsisagod:

I honestly do not know why they do the ‘Rachel’s challenge.’

Anyone can become a victim during a school shooting, it doesn’t matter who you are or what you’ve done! Or where you’re going.

They really should do a ‘Eric and Dylan’s challenge.’ (not that they ever will because people just love to…

This.  Closest there is to something like that is: http://www.thebullyproject.com/

: I honestly do not know why they do the ‘Rachel’s challenge.’Anyone…

Gunpowder.  The room smelled of gunpowder,
among other combustible chemicals, sacs of buckshot,
messily piled up along the desk, & spilling out onto
the floor, there to trip the unweary visitor.  The
black powder scented air covered the room, & made
a fire black dust settling over the Federal Shotgun
shells & the shell-making machine on the bed, the
unused, unmade, old tired bed, were his tools,
the AB-10, the uzi lying there in hibernation
back on the desk, as I dumped (?) 9 mm bullets
and magazines onto the floor, I found
among the chemical stains & burn marks, an ancient
photo album, open to pages of people at the beach.
These people were in the midst of a vacation I presumed,
A time of happiness.  Yet, on these
pictures, a withered black X thru some people’s faces.
The scent of ammonia & gunpowder overwhelmed me, as
I went to a window to let some air and light into the dark,
abandoned room.  The blinds didn’t work, as old, so old, and i
eventually cut them down with a large knife, one i
found sitting by the bed, set as to guard the room almost
There was dried blood along the tip of the blade, cobwebs
caked over gallons of a deep rack & the canned goods,
stockpiles of greenbeans, chile, soup, beer, and corn.

– Dylan Klebold, Creative Writing Class
Page 2 – Dyl brainstorming nouns, adjectives for his story

Dyl definitely has some gifted potential with storytelling.  He paints a very vivid, detailed picture with every little element squeezed into a short story. 
While Eric was usually action-driven and sardonic, Dylan’s style comes across artistic and sensory atmospheric.  He didn’t give a rat’s ass about the grammar and layout – it seemed more important to capture the mood.

“That was my sin, and this…this is my punishment.” —Vincent Valentine

“Revenge is sorrow, death is a reprieve, life is a punishment.” —Dylan Klebold “VoDkA”

I see the similiarities in character: lanky physique, prolonged sadness, tortured, private thinker, gentle, a slave to unrequited love with a final metamorphosis that unleashes them as chaotic, violatile tainted forces to be reckoned with.  Oh, and the constant slouching poses.. idk, humor me. 🙂

Crazy Chameleon but an Individualist – Dylan and Devon – Pt. 3

Devon never saw the violence when Dylan was alive.  When they whacked each other with foam noodles in the pool, it was all fun and games.   Other guys tackled her when they played football, but not Dylan.  And when she cut her leg on the field, Dylan flipped out.  He called a time out and washed her leg off.   He didn’t like dogs and was scared of Devon’s Siberian Husky, but dealt with the animal, again, out of respect for her. 

   “He didn’t want to disrupt anything, you know?”  Devon says.  “was always very respectful of everything.”

  Devon did see flashes of anger in Dylan.  It might be a “dumb” occasion like getting a bad test grade.  Or a spat over something inconsequential.  At first, Dylan suppressed the anger.  “I remember one time when he and I got in a fight cause I said something I shouldn’t have to him; I was just was really, really angry at him, I don’t remember why; I was just mad at him, and he just walked away, and I don’t know if he ever got really mad about it.  But he just walked away, and he just stayed away from me for about a week.  And then it was fine.  We talked about it.  It was fine.  But he was really, really upset for a while.”

She heard about Eric and Dylan blowing things up on the nighttime, “rebel missions,” or launching “tons of fireworks.”  She knew Eric named a bomb “Pazzie,” and another “Anasazi,” after an ancient people who inhabited the southwest Colorado and who some believe practiced cannibalism.  But she says, “Half of the student population knows how to build pipe bombs and stuff.  And everyone likes playing with fireworks.  I had no idea.  No clue at all.”

   Eric, Devon believes was the live wire who helped Dylan get from Mr. Nice Guy to Columbine killer.  “He [Dylan] was entirely one person around Eric and then someone else around everyone else,”  Devon says.  With Eric, Dylan was “Crazy Dylan,” she adds.  “Crazy videotapes in the basement.  Crazy go shoot people.  Make bombs Dylan.  You know?”  

   Eric was the tough guy filled with aggression, she says.  Scary and intimidating, he dressed commando and was never happy.  He might get a CD he liked, but would then get angry and kick something.  Eric was a lurker who tried to be like everyone else, but couldn’t connect.  The jerk who ticked people off, even Dylan.  It showed in Eric’s death when almost everyone who knew him said they weren’t really friends with him, or had had a falling out.

   "He [Eric] just kind of hung out and was a pain in everyone’s bum,“  Devon says.
   Dylan was the leader when it came to everything else in life.  ”If Dylan liked something, Eric automatically liked it.“  Devon says.  "Bands, clothing, all the different stuff.”

  It wasn’t so much that Dylan’s parents “missed” Columbine, Devon says.  They didn’t even see it.  He kept it hidden.  When Devon realized what was happening the day of Columbine, she knew it was Eric, although it’s still hard for her to believe Dylan was there too.  She can only conclude, “It was the two of them against everyone else." 

Dylan wasn’t much into lyrics.  When it came to techno, says Devon, "LIke, the more bass he could get in that music, like subwoofers and stuff, the better.  He really liked that.  A lot of it is mostly instrumental, which he liked a lot.  He didn’t have to deal with all the lyrics and stuff.  He wanted to make up his own mind what the music was about.  He did not like to be told what to be feeling.  He was an individual.  He always strove to be an individual.  He didn’t always succeed.  You can just lose yourself in techno music.  I remember nights staying up with him and he just drifted off.  Music shuts down the outside world.”  

   Sue Klebold says she once asked Dylan about a poster of shock rocker Marilyn Manson in his room and he replied that he didn’t really listen to the lyrics, but the music.  Another one of his favorite bands was the Chemical Brothers.  And at one point, he talked with Devon about going to one of their upcoming concerts.  But Devon notes, “He obviously never ended up going to it because it came in summer of 1999.”

-excerpt: Columbine A True Crime Story – Jeff Kass

 

saddeadcloud:

By Dylan’s senior year, he had grown tall and thin. His hair was long and scraggly; under his baseball cap, it stuck out like a clown wig. He’d been accepted at four colleges and had decided to go to the University of Arizona, but he’d never regained his love of learning. He was quiet. He grew irritated when we critiqued his driving, asked him to help around the house, or suggested that he get a haircut. In the last few months of senior year, he was pensive, as if he were thinking about the challenges of growing older. One day in April I said, “You seem so quiet lately—are you okay?” He said he was “just tired.” Another time I asked if he wanted to talk about going away to college. I told him that if he didn’t feel ready, he could stay home and go to a community college. He said, “I definitely want to go away.” If that was a reference to anything more than leaving home for college, it never occurred to me. 

                                                                        -Susan Klebold