Xentales

Talk about stuff, and if you must, about Xenimus
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 Post subject: -1 unread messages
PostPosted: 09 May 2006 21:07 
"Because it's fun to write in your asshole"
-G.G.


Last edited by 2 Left Eyes on 08 Oct 2007 00:14, edited 2 times in total.

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PostPosted: 10 May 2006 12:51 
<center>Box

My chest is a gunshot wound,
And the sky is falling out.
My ride isn't on its way,
Life is on a different route.

I slit my wrist just to watch it bleed,
I am a machine with a missing part.
I cut my throat and try to scream,
It's hard to bleed when you have no heart.

Sodomised by a broomstick,
Urine stains on my skull.
There's never been a better time,
To just end it all.

I am the world inside a box,
A box of hate and rage.
I am the world inside a box,
Inside a painful cage.

You can't save a world,
That doesn't want to be saved.
You can't save a world,
That cannot be saved.


-KJ</center>




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 Post subject: Nothing
PostPosted: 11 May 2006 19:15 
If there's one thing I hate more than banana, it's orange


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 Post subject: Mmmm....tasty
PostPosted: 12 May 2006 08:48 
Mmmmm....starburst taste good at 7am. I wonder how many I can fit into my mouth at once...
Damn I ran out first.

I do have a lot of pencils lying around...


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 Post subject: Been a little while
PostPosted: 19 May 2006 23:48 
So I haven't written anything in...at least a day? Got to see Hank these past few days, been great. I have the most useful conversations with him, everything always gets better after a few visits with him.

So we talked about a lot of things and I figured some good stuff out. Lately I've been pissed at all the stupid people everywhere so I talked with Hank a good deal about that. We've come up with a good fool-proof plan to get rid of everybody.

We will no longer cover our mouths when we cough.


When I look back on what I've wrote, sometimes I can't believe it was me that wrote it, the rest of the time I just hate me for it.


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PostPosted: 21 Jun 2006 23:53 
Let There Be Light


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 Post subject: The Man with no Birthday
PostPosted: 27 Jun 2006 00:30 
<center> The Man without a Birthday </center>
<center>Thunder cracking and Rain pouring down heavily, a man stared from his window on a cold winter morning. More than usual, he is looking forward to today. Ever since he began digging graves, Rain became his sun shine. She traveled to with him sometimes. She was his coworker. She was his best friend. She was all he had.

He arrives at today's cemetery and searches for his first site in the darkness of the lazy sun. He squints to see a sign ahead -- it's about 8 meters off the path he stands on. Time was never a friend to his eyes, but he knows what the sign says: East 102. Counting the great stale stones, he finds the empty plot. He measures the length and width of the hole-to-be and drives stakes into the vulnerable earth and chains them together -- a precaution to avoid irritating his neighbors. He lifts the heavy shovel from the pale grass and finally begins spearing the weak soil beneath.

Upon digging for nearly an hour, he strikes a dense rock spot. Rain blasts the rocks again and again, and again, but is unable to breach their fortress. As the man continues, the pain from decades of labor sears up and down his back like ten thousand burning razors. He feels the pain well, but doesn't hurt. Pain is the wealth he holds over the townspeople. He continues to dig, one blow at a time, slowly collecting a pile of mush and rock aside the growing hole. He breaths more and more heavily with each boulder raised from the planet beneath. As he ripped into a few inches more, the awoken sun pierced the clouds from the horizon revealing the sign's identity: West 116. The man had been in the wrong spot all morning. With a little frustration, the fatigue of over three hours seized him forcing him to sit down.

The man was a man; he was far from perfect, yet rarely is he the cause of imperfections. On any other day, he would have immediately refilled the hole and sought the correct ground. But today was not any other day. Today he felt as though a hundred years passed last night. He was tired. Yesterday he would have been anxious to get back to work, but today he felt fatigue. He wanted to stand and throw his shovel from one side to the other and back again, but he didn't. Instead he sat, and thought about days past. He thought about waking every morning eager for the day ahead. He thought about returning home late at night and fighting sleep. Now he feels none of that; confusion fills him. He desires to dig no more. He desires not to lie down -- nor to sleep. He doesn't desire to rest nor to stop resting. He doesn't desire.

The man's breathing grows heavier. The freezing liquid cools him as it flows down his body. As Rain thunders down faster, his heart slows to a softer beat. Rain cradles him as a mother does her sick child in a blanket. With the comfortable drop in temperature follows a drop in the man's vigor. He breaths fewer breaths each minute. His pule slows to a low tap, as does the Rain. He is not angry about sitting in a hole that shouldn't be, but rather relieved as he listens to the amiable music falling all around him. He lays his head back against the muddy wall with a fragment of a smile on his face. His eyelids slowly fall with the Rain.

Although he lay motionless, the storm grows in strength. As water rushes across the field and winds blow intensly, the hole's intestines are slowly sewn together again. The hole nobody desired no longer was. In only minutes, many empty years perished into the soil forever. No one noticed. No one cared.
</center>

This is one of the few things I've written that I still like years after I wrote it.


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 Post subject: I became...Addicted
PostPosted: 27 Jun 2006 23:58 
<center> I became...Addicted</center>

I went and saw Hank this past weekend. We were talking and an old scheme of ours came up. We came up with it some many years ago, I believe I was about 8 years old or so, so he must have been, let's see, well I guess he was about 14 or around that. It's quite interesting really:

We came up with our own "get rich quick" scam. And like many other scams, it's foundation was based on a sturdy action and the realiance on fooling others. It starts with ten one dollar bills. So to start the scam, you need only ten dollars (and scissors/roll of scotch tape). So you take the ten bills and stack them up. Then you cut them into ten pieces, jagged, straight, it doesn't matter, so long as they are all cut the same way. Now you tape each bill back together, but you leave one piece off from each bill -- a different piece from every other bill you cut. So when you finish, you have 10 bill with what looks like a tear in them (and they're all frankensteined), and 10 left over pieces! Now you put those 10 pieces together and OH MY GOD TEN DOLLARS BECOMES ELEVEN!!! IT'S FREAKING MAGIC! So now you have to fool somebody, such as a bank teller. Or in our plan, eleven bank tellers. So the plan was to deposit each dollar into a bank account using eleven different bank locations. Then after you've made $40, you can do it with 5's, and make $5 each time, then after $200, use 20's, and so forth until you're doing it with 100's. After talking 2 banks into accepting the really screwed up bills, we didn't know where any more banks of the same branch were located, and we realized that we'd have to use 10 new banks each time which we had already run out of banks. We also realized that it would be a looooong time before we got to 100's and that it's not really worth the time. Plus there's the off chance we'd get caught. And so we decided it wasn't feasible...enough and gave up.

So if you're really poor give it a try! Although we think we should warn you, if you're so poor you have to start with pennies then you're not gonna have a good time!


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PostPosted: 28 Jun 2006 23:41 
A Person A Paper A Promise

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
He wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
Because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
And a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
And read it to his aunts
That was the year that Father Tracy
Took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
With tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
And he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
and sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
and his father got mad
When he cried for him to do it

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
and he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
and that's what it was all about
and his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
and his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year Father Tracy died
and he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's Creed went
and he caught his sister making out on the back porch
and his mother and father never kissed or even talked
and the girl around the corner wore too much makeup
that made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
and at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly

that's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
and he called it "absolutely nothing"
because that's what it was really all about
and he gave himself an a
and a slash on each damned wrist
and he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen

-Anonymous


My ex-girlfriend gave this to me on a slip of torn paper while we were together. Although I'll never speak to her again, this remains as one of my favorite poems.

Sometimes I wish I could write something I like as much as this. Unfortunately, my words are never as great as my thoughts.


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PostPosted: 29 Jun 2006 23:57 
<center>You can't make green with red and white</center>

I saw an unusual event this morning. I was walking to class and as I passed my old dorm I saw one of it's many janitor's outside in the grass. It's a huge dorm with lots of janitor's so it's not abnormal to see them lingering around, especially outside as smoking isn't allowed inside. But the unusual part was that he was sweeping. In the grass. He was SWEEPING in the ****ING GRASS. I could go on and on about this one, but I think I'll leave it at that.

Today didn't go very well. It was one of those days where right from when you wake up you just know things are going to fall apart. I checked my email as I drank my morning coffee, and had one message which completely ruined most of my day. And from there everything else just went bad, perhaps because I was angry and frustrated from the beginning, or perhaps because of a streek of bad coincidence. So we think, if we had waited to check our email until the evening, the day would have been better. But no, it was a timely thing, so we're better off having checked it first thing in the morning, otherwise it would be worse.
Or perhaps that just what we tell ourselves...


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 Post subject: The Chicken and the road
PostPosted: 01 Jul 2006 11:39 
Why did the chicken cross the road?

Because he was dieing to be run over,
or eaten by a coyote,
or sent to the slaughterhouse....
anything.


At least that's why I cross the road...


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PostPosted: 02 Jul 2006 01:41 
<center>But we all know life is living me...</center>

I was talking to a guy I work with the other day and he was telling me all about how he used to give these motivational speeches. He told me about one specific speech -- he was talking about how the future is now. How you shouldn't wait for the future to arrive, you should take advantage of the present. You should do what you want before you are no longer able to. You should enjoy life and have a blast and blah blah blah.

He had been flying from place to place speaking the past week, so he was pretty worn out before he got to this one, so he just sort of improved the whole thing really. Then as he was leaving, he asked the secretary who the group was he was speaking to and she told him it was basically a group of child molesters that had recently been released from jail. So yea, he basically just motivated them to molest children, haha.


I was trying to fix an old two-story ramped rabbit cage Hank and I built like 8 years ago, and I realized some things are much easier to destroy and rebuild than to repair. It was far too screwed up to fix, so we just smashed it down. An aluminum bat and a hammer. Smashing the hell out of something is by far one of the greatest things our world offers. I guess we could have just hauled it out to the curb for the gar-bage men to take -- this would have been easier and we wouldn't have bled so much. But I guess some things just aren't meant to be done the easy way.

Hmm, we were actually planning on hauling the pieces to the curb in the morning for the trash guys, but now that I think about it, a fire would be the perfect end.


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 Post subject: Burn the Witches
PostPosted: 03 Jul 2006 00:02 
<center>Burn the Witches</center>

Independence day approaches. I enjoy fire a good deal. I enjoy when things disappear in the flames. I enjoy the heat sizzling the flesh on my face. I enjoy tasting the ashes thereafter. Yet I don't enjoy fireworks.

The way fire works boom and explode, pft. They just aren't as fun. I'd perfer a tiny electrical fire any day. I'd rather watch the sky hide behind clouds of thick smoke than burst into fruity colors. I also don't like the noises -- 'pow', 'boom', 'crack'. Those sounds aren't nearly as pleasant as that of a wild grass fire as it spreads and grows.

I do like grilling though. Although I don't care much for the flames created this way (they seem...'fake' if you will), I do enjoy standing in front of the grill allowing it to bake myself a bit. The heat still feels real enough, it's not quite as impulsive as a more natural fire, but it's heat nonetheless.
<center>



Tomorrow I shall be
At the end of my street
Grilling burgers
Wearing a paper hat
And a dirty look.
</center>

I got into trouble with the fire department for starting fires several times when I was younger. That part of me is dead.


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PostPosted: 04 Jul 2006 00:00 
<center>losing all hope...was freedom.</center>

As I exited the highway on my way home from work today, the traffic was abnormally worse than usual (hard to imagine that it actually gets worse). I figured it's near a holiday so people go psycho using their spare time to drive to a hundred different locations simply to turn around and drive back.

As I approached closer I noticed the backup was because of an accident. One of the vehicles was a brand new shiny red car of some sort. I put together that the accident had occured in front of this new car dealership as glass was scattered on the road as I passed, but the vehicles had been moved to the driveway of the dealership. I always thought it'd be fun to flyer the hell out of a new car dealership, I bet that'd really piss them off. There were 3 police cruisers in the grass surrounding the driveway with their lights blinking about, a firetruck (also in the grass), and an ambulance in the driveway. I could see a paramedic behind it pushing a covered body on a stretcher (or whatever it's called) into the back.

Somebody had died. I think it would be in everybody's best interest that it was the owner of the new car who died. I imagine the reason he got creamed was because he pulled out in front of an exit ramp without looking, so it's likely he was at fault, unless the other driver was a 12 year old, uninsured, mexican illegal alien with a severe sight disability. If it wasn't the new car guy's fault, then he's had a terrible day. Think about it, just bought a brand new car and already ruined it, just starting to pay it off and already you don't have it. And on top of that, if he's alive, that means somebody else is dead. Brand new car crunched and a corpse on your conscience -- he's definately better off dead. The way I see it, whoever the dead guy was, be it the driver or some innocent pedestrian, they're better off now.

I also saw a cheesy looking guy with a bright white shirt on, khakies, a cheesy tie, and a gold rectangular nametag with what looked like a 4 or 5 letter name engraved on it. I imagined him to be the salesman who just sold that crinkled piece of shit. I bet he was wondering if he's still getting full commission on that car that passed all safety regulations. I know that's what I'd be thinking. Or perhaps he was giving somebody a testdrive and thinking about how to fake whiplash.

The paramedic looked calm, I imagine it was break time for him. The guy was already dead, so he didn't have to hurry. He didn't have to try to resuscitate anybody. Paramedics need a break too, it's not their fault shitheads pull out in front of 70 mph traffic.

One of the police officers was sitting in his car looking down, I imagine he was writing a ticket. I wonder if he was writing it for the dead guy.


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PostPosted: 05 Jul 2006 00:01 
<center>We fear chaos, but really, it's calm that kills us all</center>

The clouds rushed in today and the storms arrived just in time to shit on their parade. And I rejoice in the surrounding sorrows. It was only cloudy as I grilled my burgers, it didn't being to storm until about fifteen minutes shy of sundown. I went back outside about an hour after darkness rose. My neighbor was outside watching the rain. He said to me, "I wish this rain would let up..." and I responded saying it was horrible or something like that, but I couldn't keep from smiling. He saw it but didn't say anything, perhaps out of confusion, perhaps because he really doesn't want to know why. Either way it doesn't matter, if he'd asked it would have just been more bullshit any way.

I had some friends over last night drinking and such since today was the 4th and nobody had to work. It's not illegal to work, but if you do society shuns you worse than if you molested all their children. Ignorance is bliss. Then again, if ignorance was bliss, I believed I'd have been much more blissfull after that government midterm yesterday. When I was younger my friends and I would trick people into trying to count the stars, it was funny how long some of them went before they gave up. I tried that trick last night on a friend, but it didn't work because he was successful. The only star you could see last night was the north star. And the moon. I guess that's just how it is in the city -- I'll have to start looking every night to see if it was a fluke or if that just how it is now. This should aid me in not making myself look like an idiot while trying to do the same to another. Last night, the ass was wearing me.


Sometimes, I don't understand what I'm talking about.


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PostPosted: 05 Jul 2006 23:55 
<center>slit our wrists and send us to heaven</center><center>
Raindrops on roses and whiskers torn from kittens
Grey rusted kettles and cold shaken fears
Broken hearted children shot down by peers
These are a few of my favorite things

Crimson colored oil and crisp charred remains
Fire bells and alarms and wires with barbs
Chickens that can't fly with the tags on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things

Girls in black dresses with small helpless frowns
Thorns that lay around razors and crayons
Dark black nights that freeze into eternities
These are a few of my favorite things

When the sun rises
When the day begins
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad
</center>


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 Post subject: God is in this holy town
PostPosted: 07 Jul 2006 00:19 
<center>God is in this holy town</center>

They say you can win a person's heart simply by giving them a well chosen compliment.
I think I'd rather have their actual heart, and obtain it by much simpler means.

The world is unfair, everybody knows this, but what they don't realize is that everything is balanced, and the world yields no exception for once. So the trick is simply to get on the right side of the beam. What side would that be? The side where only the enlightened ones stand. You don't want to be on the side with everybody else, it's weighed down far too greatly and everybody falls down the shithole. A vast majority of people (I'd say some number WELL over 99%) is born on the slant sliding straight into the well. But there's only 3 basic things you need to know to transverse to paradise.

I didn't have the best of days today, but I won't write about why. It reminded me of several things, one in particular I shall write about. A few months ago I finally had my braces removed, after being locked in them for nearly 4 years. I could go on and on about how wretched the orthodontics company was, but I'll keep it to myself today. I was sitting in the chair as they were all cut from my teeth. Immediately, I was relieved. I could move my toungue around my mouth without slicing it apart. I had more than the average amount of metal in my mouth -- they had to put several extra things in especially in the back causing jagged edges to be everywhere in the back. I couldn't talk without cutting my toungue. And so I was happy. Four years of permanent sores in my mouth. Four years of being careful. Four years of attending painful annoying sessions. Four years and it was finally all over. They had me brush my teeth right after over by the sink. As I gazed in the mirror and saw my naked teeth, I suddenly became frightened. Those shards of metal were a part of me -- four years of me! And now, in seconds, a chunk of me is gone forever. I stopped brushing and stared into the mirror. Part of me died in that mirror.

f- it -- it wasn't a part I needed any way.


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PostPosted: 10 Jul 2006 00:17 
<center>Looking at you through the bars
Don't know how long it's been
But it feels like forever
Wish you would come home

I'll be waiting</center>

I find the hardest part of my day is waking up. It seems more and more often I awake not knowing what I'm doing. I've always been sort of lost, but it feels like I'm walking deeper into the woods, farther down the line. I wake up and look around at the walls I live in, think about the city I live in, about the school I attend, the classes I take, the job I work, and just think "What the hell am I doing?" I certainly never saw myself here, this was never my dream. I guess that's why I'm here though, because I never had a dream, I never saw myself anywhere, and every day I just walk the line in front of me. They say you make your own choices, but I don't feel like I've made any choices. It feels like every choice I make is point blank -- do I stand on the railroad tracks, or do I step aside? Yes, technically it's a choice, but it doesn't feel like a choice.

And so I wake up, think about all this crap, and what do I do? I do what I always do, whatever it is that I'm supposed to do that day, or whatever I planned to do the day before. Why don't I just make a different choice and just not do it? I guess I'm afraid of what I'd become. I guess it's because if I did, I'd do something I'd regret, and it'd break the ice, and I'd never be able to climb out. I guess if I didn't follow suit, I'd surely lose my mind. I guess it's because I'm a pussy.

But after that, the rest of the day isn't so bad. After I get busy I don't think as much -- I just do. Well, that's not quite right. I don't stop thinking; I can only stop thinking when I really focus it and even then I can only hold that for maybe, 30 seconds tops. But my thought becomes more constructive as the day prolongs. I think it peaks just as I fall asleep, I guess that's why I tend to talk to myself here in the later hours of the day as opposed to the morning hours. It feels like I kill my thoughts when I fall asleep at night, feels like if I didn't go to sleep, they would continue to grow stronger. But I know this isn't true, as I said earlier, they peak at this time, and all sides of a peak lead down. I guess that's the downside of being on top of the world -- there's nowhere to go but down, and faster the higher you are.

I can remember being afraid to close my eyes in the shower as a child. For some reason I always thought my father hired an assassin to kill me when I closed my eyes. I had no reason to think my father wanted me dead, nor did I, but for some reason I always thought this was going to happen. I learned how to shampoo my hair without closing my eyes nor getting any shampoo in them and wash my face with my eyes open back then. To this day I still shower like this -- out of habit now rather than fear. These days the only thing I fear is heights, but that's not a big deal -- I just close my eyes when I drive over bridges.

I heard a song on a commercial the other day, I think the line was: "Come together....Over me". Can't remember what the commercial was for...but it was some everyday thing, not some weird comedy central homo porno or something weird. Bah, and that's the point I was getting at -- that line makes the commercial creepy as hell! I'd say I'd never buy the product because of that...but I can't remember what that product was...I guess I could boycott all [legal] products and become a hippie. But I hate the word boycott. f- it, I'll just eat somebody's nasty.


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 Post subject: INNOCENSE
PostPosted: 11 Jul 2006 00:16 
<center> INNOCENSE

When I hear the birds chirping
The trees blooming
And insects collecting nectar
Then I hear----
A child in his soft little cradle
Is awakened by the cool breeze
Flowing through his tiny hands
That strikes his delicate cheeks
He blushes, he moves
The nature adores him
He is the blossom of 'love',
A bud of innocence,
A flower of pure wisdom,
The joy of every being,
For he is the gift of God.


But she begins to cry
The noises are not shy
They hurt her ears
And carry her fears
The sounds of hate
Even this late


Watching a child, watching the fights,
Crying my sleep during the screams of the night.
Nestled in pillows, overtaken by tears,
She'd never realize this would effect her over the years.
So afraid of this monster, one that I hate,
It comes from the anger so the pain it makes.
If only a mirror could save it to see,
This child is hurting,
This child is me.
So scared to fall in love, but tired of being alone,
I remember all those tears,
And the pain they have shone.
Now no longer with youth,
But old enough to say,
I can't ignore these memories I live with,
I live with then everyday.


By Seshu, Kimberly, and me</center>


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PostPosted: 11 Jul 2006 23:54 
<center>THIS ISN'T ME I USED TO SAY</center>

I went to a friend's house after my physics lab today. She has a cat. For the love of everything that's still holy, I hate cats. When I was younger I didn't like cats. The longer I lived the less I liked them, and now I absolutely hate them. But before today, I hadn't had contact with any cats in a while. I remember every time I was around somebody's cat, they'd say something stupid like "don't be shy, it won't bite". Except I guess they actually called them a he or she, but I never have seen any cat as a he or she, just an it; it it it. So I'd pet it and it would f- bite me. All of them, every last one would f- bite me. Well, that's not true, not all of them. I was at the pound once and they had a full wall of cats in cages, I'd say it was basically a rectangle probably 20 cages long by 8 or so high, each had maybe, 2 or 3 cats in them. None of them were able to bite me. One of them was cute though, so I went to rub it's paw with my finger and it clawed me. Son of a bitch. Any way, today's cat was a good cat, it was sweet and liked to rub against your leg and what not -- like all cats I guess. So I pet it, and it didn't bite me actually. I picked it up, still no bite. I held it in my lap as I sat on the patio outside talking with my friend. "She really likes you" my friend said -- I guess this it cat was actually a she, but as far as I care, it's still an it. Then an ambulance wizzed by somewhere or another sirens blaring, and what's the cat do? It gets scared and digs it's bloody paws into my leg. Now I have 7 holes in my left leg (and some scratches that should heal in 2 days or less).

I went and saw Hank early Sunday morning. I tried to convince him to move to where I'm living now with me. Told him he could stay at my place and everything would be taken care of, it would all be easy. But it's useless, I can't get him to budge.

One thing I really hate about life is that it never seems like you have enough bricks. It's like you're trying to build a castle around yourself but it's an impossible job. First, I spend lots of time building one of the walls. Then I move on to the next wall. But I have to use the bricks from the first wall to build the second wall. So really, I'm just tearing down the first to build the second. Yet I do it any way, tearing down as I build and moving around in a circle endlessly re-building walls I've probably built a dozen times each already. I need a castle to hide in and keep all the bad people out, but I never have enough bricks! I guess I just wasn't meant to protect myself from the bad people. Then again, what good is the castle if the bad people you want to hide from are inside before you build it any way...


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PostPosted: 12 Jul 2006 23:47 
<center>But I won't stop breathing
'Til my heart stops bleeding</center>


After I got home from work today I headed straight to the bathroom to relieve myself. A mosquito was flying around. Now, I realize mosquito's aren't the brightest form of life, flyin' around biting random things millions of times bigger than them and all, but this one was particularly stupid. He flew straight into my stream of piss. And that was the end of that.


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PostPosted: 13 Jul 2006 23:52 
<center>Babies don't sleep this well</center>

Ugh, had my physics lab today and there's only 2 left now, thank god. Some of the labs are fun, but most of them are just long and tedious, and it doesn't help that my partner isn't too bright, plus he has a huge accent so we have trouble understanding each other. I take that back, I understand him ok, but he has trouble understanding everybody from what I can tell. Or maybe he's just really ignorant so he acts like he doesn't understand english well to cover it up. I've been speaking to my lab TA more and more, and I realize he's really not the idiot I thought he was at first. The first lab we had (my first impression of him) was a circuit lab. The basic breadboard bullshit, connecting various resistors and what not. This lab was right up my ally so I knew everything I was doing before I signed up for this class even (the labs are complicated so a lot of times it's hard to understand what's going on in such a short period of time). As I was taking measurements, the guys in front of my partner and I were having trouble figuring out how to connect the voltage source to the breadboard so they asked the TA for help. He shoved a probe from a multimeter into the voltage source output and put the other probe into the breadboard and said "that should do it." Now, I'm not entirely sure what that would do had the voltage been powered on, but I know that it's definitely NOT recommended! I thought the guy was going to shock the f- outa himself right there! I took the probes out before they turned anything on, but I didn't want to. I had just started a TA job myself so I know I wouldn't want a student showing me something I did wrong, but I felt like I had no choice (as usual) -- this was better than what might happen. So I figured the guy was just a complete idiot. But since then, I've needed his help with labs and such, so I've talked with him and most of the time he really seems to know a lot about everything. I guess that's just the way it looks to me from the my standpoint though. I mean, physics is a broad topic. If he didn't really know what he was talking about, I guess I wouldn't know it since there's I'm unfamiliar with the parts I don't care about. I'd say about 80% of it is basically useless to me, so I figure...I figure...I figure....well I figure I was actually leading up to something here but it's slipped my mind.


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 Post subject: Sadistic or Realistic?
PostPosted: 16 Jul 2006 01:38 
<center>Sadistic or Realistic?</center>

Today was one of those awkward days where we can't quite figure out what's going on and, well don't really care enough to figure it out either. The day started at I'd say roughly 4am, shortly after I fell asleep the night before. Well...at least I'm fairly certain I was home and in bed by 4, judging off...well it doesn't really matter.

I was having multiple nightmares as I slept. I was only able to remember one. I was asleep and awoke with the feeling that somebody else was in my house with me, so I got up and started wandering around, not seeing anybody. I opened the fridge to get some water and WAM, what's inside? A case of beer. I don't keep cases of beer in my fridge, especially not that brand (although it wasn't a particular brand, it was not a brand of my taste). So immediately I run to my room and grab my combat knife and wander around the house again. As I turn the corner I see somebody and stab them quickly. Then I realize it's my neighbor. She came in the side door (which is usually locked...) to hide a present from her husband so he wouldn't see it. And I just killed her. Then I awoke and it all went away.

Most people dislike nightmares, but I enjoy them. My nightmare is a 'good' dream. When we have nightmares, we awake and think "phew, it was just a dream, it wasn't real". But when we dream good, we awake to "f-."

I stayed with my parents a couple nights some time ago, and one morning I ate breakfast with my father. He was going on and on about how horrible he slept because he had such hideous nightmares and so on and so forth but he wouldn't tell me what the nightmare was. "If I tell you before breakfast, it'll come true!" That's what he said. When I was younger, he'd say stupid shit like this and I thought he was joking around, but now I see he genuinely believes this crap. My only curiousity is if he indeed always believed it, or if he's become so senile in his age that he believes it NOW, and was joking back then. Regardless, we finished breakfast, and he was eager to tell me about his dream. He told me all about how we (our family) were all penguins stuck in lava pits in the center of the earth being eaten alive by flowers. I'm speechless.

When I actually awoke, the sun was pouring in so I rolled over to see what time it was. My alarm clock mocked me. It didn't have the time on it. So I looked and it was plugged in as it should have been still. Then I noticed the fan magically turned itself off. I listened for the A/C -- nothing. Looked at the stereo (has red dot on when it's off), but nay, no power there either. So I walked to the kitchen and, naturally, opened the fridge. No beer. And no light or power either. f- electric company. They fine me for late payments, and charge me more and more, and overall flat out f- me in the ass. But what happens when they f- up? "Oh we're sorry for the inconvenience" and "people make mistakes, give us a break". Give you a break? HOW ABOUT I BREAK YOU! I think for every time they piss me off, I should be able to fine them whatever I deem suitable!

This reminds me several years ago when my family and I went to visit my aunt. She married rich and is as blockheaded as you can get and still survive. Her electricity had gone been out for about 45 minutes or so when we arrived. She had everything dragged out of the freezer and was cooking every last piece of food she had while eating up the ice cream before it melted. My mother tried to explain to her that freezers are insulated and that they'll stay cold for a couple of hours at least, and then there's still a good amount of time before things start spoiling, but my aunt was convinced this was the appocalypse. The power came back on about half an hour later -- most everything was already cooked...some burnt, but mostly it all just looked like shit. But what does she care -- her brains will come home from work shortly and buy new everything.

They say when nobody's watching is when you show your true self. I don't believe that. You reveal your true self when you know there's no escape. When approaching the gates of Hell and know you'll only pass through them once, that's when you leave your hiding place.

I had a great idea for a board game to help teach little kids to use the bathroom properly, I was going to call it "Poop shoots and ladders". But when I went to copyright the name, it turns out it's already in use by some gay porn company. And that's the end of that.


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 Post subject: Can't rain every day
PostPosted: 16 Jul 2006 23:54 
<center>Can't rain every day</center>

I purchased airline tickets today ^.^

I'm vacationing to Alaska in the end of August. I have an uncle that lives there who's awesome. I was also able to talk Hank into coming with me. I guess a fibbed a little saying I purchased the tickets...more like I traded in miles for 'em. I'm excited...as excited as I get! I haven't been to Alaska in about 7 or 8 years, but it was great while I was there last. I was there for two weeks (as I will be again this year). We spent countless hours doing all sorts of stuff. The best part was, the temperature topped out around 78-80 degrees fareignheight (during July). That was great because at home it was in the 105's at the time. We did tons of stuff while we were there with my uncle -- fished, boated, made fires and fried fish on them, canoed, walked through rivers, forests, saw lots of moose, and shot rifles at 3am behind a bar. During the summer that far north there is no sundown, so it was impossible to ever know what time it was without a clock for me, especially since the flight changes about 4 hours in time zone, so I was screwed up to begin with. Oh and another thing, Alaska doesn't do daylight savings. They're daylight is so f- up regardless, and they're out there all on their own so they just kind of make their own rules and do whatever they want. That doesn't help me keep track of the time! Did I mention MJ is legal in Alaska? Too bad I don't smoke it. Speaking of MJ, I can't wait to see MJ again! Mary Jane is my uncle's dog's name. It was his wife's son's (from previous) dog that my uncle took in when he went to jail. The guy named it MJ because he was a stoner and thought it was hilarious -- she's a (I can't spell this) rout weiler (MJ that is). The guy's name was Dana....haha a dude named Dana...guess his mom named him in the same sense he named the dog haha. MJ's awesome though, she's a great dog, and one of the few of her breed that still has her tail! She went everywhere with us, it was great. There were virtually no rules against pets everywhere we went, hell we went into wal-mart with her even and nobody cared. It's so nice around there. Speaking of wal-mart, that was the only place I saw a black person, and there were 2! Two full weeks there and the only 2 I see are working at wal-mart, what are the odds!? I can't wait until I board the plane! I'd be counting down the days......but I can't figure out how many days away it is even...


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 Post subject: DAY LYNCHING
PostPosted: 18 Jul 2006 00:00 
<center>DAY LYNCHING

i delight in storm watching in late november
among heavy, tired, dense, black clouds
to hear raindrops of serenity,
the streets deserted, an advantage
they gain for not knowing the barren ways
of shelter-making; and as i walk among them
raising my eyes to the above, the most ensanguined accumulations
drop nearly undesirable to the arid area,
as birds often do, particularly dispensable birds
like vultures or crows,
multi-populated, accumulated murders,
which i watch, gaze at, and reside calmly
in the quite, contented, cold, dark evening
of day lynching in late november
</center>


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 Post subject: One foot in the gutter
PostPosted: 22 Jul 2006 01:36 
<center>One foot in the gutter
The other’s in the grave
</center>

These past few days have not been a good time. Tuesday afternoon I was talking to my uncle (the one in Alaska). He told me Mary Jane died about a year and a half ago. She was hit by a truck when she was with Dana. That pissed me off...wish he'd been hit by the truck. Loved that dog...

Then a few minutes after I finished speaking with my uncle, my asshole brother called me. My older brother. Apparently, he was in the city I live in because his girlfriend had to go to court because she hasn't paid her child support in over a year. So he was going to pay it for her to keep her out of jail, but his dumbass doesn't know how banks work and was unable to withdraw the money at the last minute. She was taken to a jail cell and he was being a f- cry baby. I had him come stay at my house, but he wasn't in the city I live, no no no. He was about an hour away from it. So he drove himself here and was whining the whole night about how horrible it was that she was taken to prison for a SINGLE f- night. I went to bed around 1am and tried to sleep but couldn't because he kept making noise calling his bank and whining to them and what not. I didn't sleep at all and had a midterm at 11:00 in the morning. Yay. When morning came around he drove to the bank as soon as they opened at 9am to get the money, $1500. Then he left for the sheriff's department in whatever the place was called at around 9:30. 9:45, he calls me again. His car broke down and needs me to pick him up. So I get in my car and try to figure out where the hell he went, he was more interested in whining to me over the phone than he was giving me directions to him, and he didn't have a clue what roads he took any way. So I'm driving to him and he keeps f- calling me trying to convince me to drive him an hour to the jail and back (a total of 2 hours) and telling me that I'll get to my exam in time.

If I miss this exam, then I'll fail the course, and my entire summer will have been a complete waste. And I REALLY don't think a couple more hours is going to make a shit of a difference in the jail cell, it's just a temporary holding -- that shit isn't bad at all. In fact, it's probably better than the crap ass apartment they're living in any way. So I found him finally and picked him up and drove directly to my school. The whole time he's whining. When we got to my school, I turned my car over to him. Now, I'm not one of those weird people that has physical attatchments to their car and loves them above all else, but I sure as hell love my car more than him.

And I arrive at my exam, sleepless, tired, pissed off, and almost sure my car will not be operative by the time he's done with it. I haven't received the results of the test yet, but I can't even remember what the questions were like on it. My brother called my dad while I was driving over to get him (somewhere between calls to me I guess), and my dad called a tow truck that toed the car to my house, yay. So here I am stuck having to fix his shitty car. Luckily, my little brother drove down to help out while I was at work. He picked me up from work, also a good thing because I'm a TA at the school, and the roads around huge universities are confusing -- my older brother would have never found me. My little brother and I work on it all afternoon and late into the night. The A/C compressor went out causeing the pulley to lock up which burnt the belt until it snapped off. We had to replace the compressor and the belt. We bought the belt first before we knew the compressor was messed up, my older brother paid for that (was like $15 I think). So when we went to get the compressor, it cost $287. But does my older brother have $287? No, he has $120 to his entire name now. And that $120 wasn't backup money in case of something like this, that was booze money I'm sure.

So I had to pay for the damn thing. Otherwise he'd be living with me forever probably. f- shit. We got it put back in and replaced and whatnot so that the car would operate, but not the air conditioning. I hope he never has air conditioning again. He slept most of the time my little brother and I busted our asses fixing it. Well, slept and f- up my house and ate all my food. I live alone, so I don't keep a lot of food at any single given time, but it was all eaten up in the less than 3 days he was here. He generally doesn't shower much so there was a good amount of dirt around as well. Oh yea, and he bought us pizza one night. Yea, pizza really makes up for everything else. I don't mind helping out, but he's been being such an asshole.

He thanked us a million times when he left, but f- that. Like I had a choice? Fix his shit for him or breast feed him the rest of his life. Psh. Oh and he told me if I ever needed anything he'd help me out. Jokingly he said if I went to jail to give him a call and he'd bail me out too. All I could think was:
"$120 isn't enough to bail somebody out for murder, and it wouldn't do me any good to call a dead guy any way"


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PostPosted: 23 Jul 2006 01:11 
<center>Kiss it on the head and send it to God</center>

My dad bought a ball python at a garage sale (the ONLY garage sale he's ever gone to) for $5 with cage and all. My brothers (real brothers, not half), named it Ozzy. Now, I'm not entirely sure whether it was a he or a she, but we'll refer to it as a he since it was named after the Prince of Darkness. My brothers are useless so I ended taking care of it myself, feeding it 'pinky' mice two a week, then as it grew we changed to a mouse every other week, then 2 mice every other week, then eventually a small rat every second week. Every now and again he would skip a week or two and just not eat. One day in November, he did just this -- didn't eat that is. So I kept the rat in his old cage (I built a bigger one when he was outgrowing the first). They say not to leave the rat in the cage with the snake because if the reptile isn't hungry, the rat will eat him. So I did just that, and attempted to feed him every week, but he wouldn't eat. The rat wasn't a wretchedly horrible rat like most of them (I hate rodents more than life itself). I decided it was safe to leave the rat in the cage with Ozzy. Ozzy didn't eat stinky rodent, and stinky rodent didn't eat Ozzy. This made it easier on me because I didn't have to handle the walking pile of waste. They remained this way all year. Sometime around June I figured Ozzy had befriended this rodent and would no longer eat him even if he was hungry, so I bought another small rat -- which was considerably smaller than stinky had grown to be. But Ozzy did not eat that one either.

I went away for the weekend asking my brothers to take care of Ozzy and the rodents. When I returned the 2nd rat had starved to death...they didn't do anything. I flushed him and he got stuck in the toilet. A flooding toilet doesn't piss me off that bad, but a rotten stinking rodent does. Rats in general smell of the worst you could imagine, but after they die and have a little time to decay...oh-my-god. It's not even funny any more. That was not a good day.

A few months later, towards the end of August, Ozzy got hungry finally. That friend he'd made the past year, the only friend he'd ever had, his best friend, well he just up and ate it one day. I guess that's 'cold blood'.

I left for college that year and stayed in a dorm my first year. Pythons aren't allowed in the dorm, so I left my brothers in to care for Ozzy. When I returned for Christmas break, Ozzy wasn't moving much. He wasn't dead, but he was very sick. They hadn't touched him since I left. Now pythons can survive a long, long time without eating, as I've just explained he had before. But they cannot go without water, and that's what was wrong with him, extreme dehydration. I put water in his bowl and placed him near it, but he was too weak to drink from it. I put his face right next to the water and left him a few hours hoping he'd find a way to drink. I tried different things such as putting water on his mouth and such for over a week. When I awoke on Christmas morning, he was dead. The way I see it, he was better off that way. I guess it was my fault for believing my brothers would take care of him. I guess I should have taken him to the dorm with me any way. I wish I'd known how lax the security was there. I wish I'd come home weekends to take care of him. I wish I'd asked Hank to do it. I wish I never stayed in a dorm. I wish I'd given him away in a garage sale to a more caring person. I wish I'd anything but what I did.


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PostPosted: 23 Jul 2006 23:52 
<center>if I don't say anything, people assume all's well</center>

Nothing beats awaking at 3am to a phone call from somebody you don't know. Haven't been waken up by that in a long time. The people I want to forget most, I forget least. But, I guess, I would have never known I had a heart if she hadn't broken it, I should thank her for that, huh? I used to perfer being heartless, but now I think I've found some joy in the shattered remains.

It seems like the list of people I'd like to kill gets longer and longer, but the list of people I don't want to kill decays even faster. They say if you write out a list of everybody you want dead, you become 67% more likely to attempt to put it into action. I didn't used to believe this kind of bullshit, but I guess I've seen a few ghosts these past years.

Right now I'm not mad at anybody in particular, just everybody. I don't necessarily want to kill, I just want to rip something apart, beat the life out of it, anything for some relief. For over six years, I had my own way of always being in a state of serenity, but I've decided against doing that now. I feel it's absence is eating me alive. But that's another story for another day.

Hank tells me I shouldn't kill anybody. What the f- does he know? He says everybody deserves a chance, regardless of how messed up they are, they should still get a chance. They way I see it, they're better off dead any way. He asks if they're better off that way, then why do I want to kill those I hate, isn't that doing them a favor? f- 'em, I don't care if it helps them, so long as I can bash their heads in. He reminds me of their friends and their families who would be heartbroken and how unfair it would be to them. What do I care? They don't care about me. It's strange though -- in the whole conversation I had with Hank, he never once brought up religion. He never said I shouldn't play god or that I don't get to choose their destinies. Hank's quite religious, so I expect something of this nature to come up, but he never brought it up at all. I knew exactly what I was going to say when he did, but he never did. I swear it's like he knew what I was going to say, so he beat me to it. What the hell does he know any way, always trying to talk me out of shit like he's some kind of saint. Sometimes I want to kill Hank -- there I said it.


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PostPosted: 24 Jul 2006 23:52 
<center>And I admit, I’m a basketcase
With lipstick smeared across my face</center>


"Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to [a building]?"

"[a building], eh? Yea, just turn around and take a left on that first street, get on [a highway] southbound for about 12 miles and take the exit right after the [gas station], from there you wanna take your first right and head straight there for another 6 miles and you'll see turn left on [some street], [the building] will be about the fifth down on your right."

"Uhm....ok....so south on the highway for 12 miles, exit at [the gas station], take a right....then 6 miles until [some street], take a left, and it's down on the right?"

"Yep, you got it."

"Ok...thanks!"

"Your welcome."

Do I know where that building is? Not a clue. In fact, I couldn't really understand them when they asked for directions, so I really don't even know what the name of the building was they're looking for. So why don't I ask "pardon?" Why don't I just say "Sorry, I don't know where that is." Why don't I tell them about the guidepost up ahead, with a lil' man inside paid solely to help stranded morons? I guess I just don't care. What's it matter to me whether they get where they're going or not any way? As far as I'm concerned, whether I send them where they want or instruct them to drive across the Atlantic, it's all the same to me. We speak for 30 seconds or so, then they drive off, and I never see them again. If a tree falls down in the woods and I'm not around, does it make a sound? Who gives a shit. What I need to do is find out where the closest crackhouses are and just send people there. What makes them think I'm friendly or that I know where the f- I am any way? Why are they always asking me for directions?! Why do they always expect me to help?! Where the f- are they when I'm lost.


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PostPosted: 26 Jul 2006 00:56 
<center>Just say a prayer for me, in case I forget</center>

I went to pick up a few wasted friends from a strip joint earlier tonight. It's in the middle of downtown so it's really packed in that area, especially for parking. Not wanting to park miles away just to walk to them and walk back, I doubled next to another car while they got in. They were acting stupid as usual, so it was taking a little while, not a long time, but a little while. When they finally got in and I got the dumbasses to put their seatbelts on I realized the guy I was blocking in was waiting to leave, so I pulled forward a little so he could get out. As he pulls out he yells out the window at me "YOU f- IDIOT!" He never asked me to move or even let me know I was in his way, so this was completely uncalled for. In my opinion, cowardice is the only unforgive-able sin. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a coward trying to make himself look brave. I'm sure he was showing off how big his balls are to his girlfriend in the passenger seat. I bet she was so drunk, or probably drugged rather, that it actually worked.

Did I mention we were in the middle of the crowded downtown and the entire street was nearly at a standstill? Yea, that's right, he tried to speed off -- gridlock, faggot. I get out of my car and look right at him. I don't know what I'm going to do, I guess I never do, but I know this, I'm pissed off. So I created a plan really quick, I'll grab the hammer from my trunk and walk to his window screamin' at him and pound on his window. Did I want him to get out so I could kick his ass? Not really. I feel the need to kill him a little, but at this point I'm fairly certain I wouldn't do that. I thought that after I got to his window and began beating on it, I'd figure what action to take next based on his reactions. But it doesn't really matter, because I didn't get that far. He was freaked out already from being stuck after being a dumbass, and my stare. When I went to my trunk I pulled my tool case (it's like a briefcase) and placed it on top of my car. I'm guessing he thought it was a pistol case, because when he saw me open it he took off. He served between a stopped car and a parked car, went through an empty parking spot onto the sidewalk and drove down it through to the intersection and turned left back onto the road (which was clear as far as I could see). Aside from crashing into all the cars on the way and turning straight into a police cruiser as he hit a handicapped pedestrian, I guess that's probably the best scenario I could have hoped for. But still, I'm left empty....and disappointed.


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PostPosted: 27 Jul 2006 01:06 
<center>It's getting dark as the Devil's heart...
...if He had one
</center>

<center>I walked around my neighborhood tonight
In the silent calm.
As I looked around, I thought to myself --
Is this it?
Is there nothing else?
</center>


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 Post subject: All I want for Christmas
PostPosted: 31 Jul 2006 01:28 
<center>All I want for Christmas
is a custom fit casket
</center>

I went to Mexico this weekend with my girlfriend and a couple of her friends. I came back alone. I guess it's easier to escape when your name is 'Anonymous'. For now (and likely forever) I'll shovel the details.

I saw Clerks II earlier today. Ya know, I figured with them being as old as they are now, that movie would suck, but I saw it any way. And it was one of the best movies I've seen in a good while (I can't believe I sat all the way through Pirates of the Carribean last month or whenever that was -- I even wasted my ****ing time waiting through the credits for that lame ass scene). I really liked the first Clerks as well. I guess I liked them because I could relate to them, but when I think about it, I have nothing in common with their situation. I guess that's why thinking is Satan's work. On a final note, Jay's my hero!

When I drove back from Mexico today, there was a huge grass fire on the side of the road. I saw the smoke probably three or four miles before I got to it, and traffic was backed up, because stupid c- always have to stop and look at whats going on. I hate nosey people -- just want to cut their noses off and shove it down their pee hole. When I crept near the inflamed area, the first thing I noted was the smell. It smelled like a fresh pizza baking in the oven. Traffic is bad, but when you get a craving for pizza (due to the circumstances), traffic is worse! GET THE f- OUTA MY WAY SO I CAN GRAB A PIZZA! Then you can pussy foot around in the ash. As I waited in the traffic, I could see a few structures had been burnt to the ground. Were they houses? An apartment complex? A five star hotel? Some poor old man's shack? Maybe Elvis Presley's private mansion? Or perhaps an orphanage? Doesn't matter now -- the flames revealed the true value of whatever it was.

There were a bunch of firemen around and fire trucks and cruisers and all sorts of fancy shit. Some special mobile tank which I presume was carrying water as there likely wasn't a fire hydrant close enough by. But the firefighters weren't fighting fire. They were all standing around in awe. I'd say there were probably thirty of them. At this point, I imagine the new guy was wondering why he hadn't become a ballerina instead. I guess they had already tried putting the fire out but weren't able to due to the extremely dry and heat we've had recently. I imagine the moron in the group of firefighters (there's always at least one) was frustrated with the water not working and contemplating "fighting fire with fire". I bet he'd have tried it if one of the others hadn't stopped him. He was probably also thinking this smell is the reason he quit his job at Pizza Hut. The firemen and their trucks and the police officers and the rest of Macy's parade were positioned between the fires and the street. I couldn't help but wonder....were they there to prevent it from burning up the highway? If they were...how did they plan on doing that? When the fire burned near, tell it to freeze in the name of the law? Threaten to have CPS abduct it's children? Or were they going to take a bullet for us -- let the fire move across their bodies and then run in the opposite direction of the street? I'd give my first born child to see that.


<center>Goodbye Horses

Hoooooooooooo, hooooo-hooooooo, hoooooo-hooooooo

You told me, I see you rise
But, it always, falls
I see you come, I see you go

You say, "All things pass, into the night"
And I say, "Oh no sir, I must say wrong,
I must disagree, oh no sir, I must say wrong"
Won't you listen to me

You told me, I've seen it all before
I've Been there,
I've seen my hopes and dreams a-lying on the ground

I've seen the sky, just begin to fall
And you say, "All things pass, into the night"
And I say, "Oh no sir, I must say wrong,
I must disagree, oh no sir, I must say wrong"
Won't you listen to meeeeeeeeee?

Good-bye horses
I'm lying over you
Good-bye horses
I'm lying over you
Good-bye horses
I'm lying over you
Good-bye horses
I'm lying, lying, lying over yooooooooooouuuuuuuuuu!!!!

by Q Lazzarus
</center>


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PostPosted: 01 Aug 2006 01:50 
<center>As I climb this ladder now
It's certain I will fall
</center>

Today I'll write my thoughts on Charles Manson. They say bad things about him and how horrible a person he is. He convinced many people to slaughter families and spread their internals throughout their houses, leaving messages and such. His plan was something along the lines of slaughtering Caucasians and making it look like African Americans were the murderers. The object was to start a war between the two in order to obliterate one of the races. For an insane person it was quite a plan.

But why was anybody able to be convinced by such a monster? Most of them thought Charles to be Jesus Christ reborn. And Jesus was/is supposed to be reborn according to the bible, is he not? Hell, Charles even looks the same as Jesus is portrayed. Who wouldn't believe it? How do we know he's not? I mean, what happened when Jesus was around preaching his word? People turned on him, just as they have Charles, with the exception that Charles wasn't killed. He is captive in a state that does not believe in the death penalty (what moron doesn't believe in that!?). So how do we know we aren't doing the same thing all over again? Because Charles seems to be evil and Jesus is pure? All I know is, Jesus was a long time ago, and in that time facts can easily evolve and make a midget seem much taller over a hundred years even, much less thousands.

But what Charles was attempting to do was so radical! Then again, wasn't what Jesus was doing, for that time period, quite radical in itself?


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 Post subject: Richard Cory
PostPosted: 02 Aug 2006 00:17 
<center>Richard Cory</center>
<center>
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich - yes, richer than a king -
And admirably schooled in every grace;
In fine we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.


by Edwin Arlington Robinson
</center>


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 Post subject: Too Smart To Live
PostPosted: 03 Aug 2006 01:33 
<center>Too Smart To Live
Too Dumb To Die
Those are the choices I'm left with</center>
<center>
Your father yells after you steal the rattle from your baby sister.
Years later you make faces at him behind his back as he watches the game.
You throw your toys across the room every now and again just to see if you can get away with it.
You stick your tounge out at your mother as she kneels to pick up what you dropped.
You whipe your mouth on the pillow.
You sneak a sip of mother's coffee while she sews.
You take the blue crayon before the other children get to choose
And hurry to be the first to the swing at recess
You eat the last cookie after school
And lie to your sister
You watch the rainbow
And search for the gold
You break the mirror
And blame your sister
You steal the lightbulb
from the overhead
Before the teacher arrives
You steal a candy
From the gas station
While your friend
Asks for directions
You open the door
For yourself
You speak God's word
And live Satan's
A few years blink by
You find yourself
in the back
of a pet
cemetery
f-
corpses
</center>


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 Post subject: Tomorrow never came
PostPosted: 04 Aug 2006 00:36 
<center>Tomorrow never came</center>

I saw Lady in the Water today at the movie theater. Long story short, don't pay to see it. Actually, if somebody asks you to watch it with them, offer them $20 to never mention it again. But I'm not writing to bitch about how shitty it was (and it was really shitty). What I'm writing about tonight is what I saw when I left.

As I drove out of the theater there was a homeless shithead in the middle of the street at the stoplight. It's not abnormal to see them, in fact, it would be abnormal not to see them. I usually read their sign just to see what it says, even though no matter what it says, I don't give a shit. This guy's sign said "I'm ugly, but WE are hungry!" Being he was the only one I saw, I wondered what we meant so I looked at his pile of shit sitting in the median. There was an open umbrella, a small one, covering his belongings. Then I noticed a dog lying under the umbrella hiding from the sun. So that's what we meant. The dog was fairly tame, when the man walked down the line of cars, the dog stood and trotted a few paces behind him staying on the slender median without straying to be crushed by a car. I then took a better look at the hobo. His facial hair was a mess, but the hair on his head wasn't that long, and he was quite chunky for a homeless guy. Then I noticed as the dog made it's appearance, 4 people gave the man what looked like change. None before. So I realize, the f- probably isn't homeless or disabled in any way, he's just a twat. Trains his dog to look cute and makes money for doing nothin'. That's why I f- hate homeless people. They're a bunch of f- morons that don't do shit just because morons see a poor lil' dog and want to buy their way into Heaven. f- that. If you wanna make it better for the dog then drive up on the curb and run the damn thing over. And hit hobo while you're at it.

I just hate it to death when people give hobos money! I don't give a shit what the reason is. I always ask people why when I see them do it (people I'm riding with that is -- not random strangers). And I've heard loads of different reasons:
"Oh well he looks like a good person and just needs money for food"
"His sign said he was buying boose, I like his honesty"
"I give 'em a dollar if their sign is creative"
"They just look so helpless"
"He was in the marines, like me" (so his sign said...)
"Because I have a heart?"

The guy that gave money for a creative sign -- that sign read: "My family was killed by ninjas and I need money for karati lessons". Well, that's what it said but the spelling was almost incomprehensible. I wondered if he'd done that on purpose or if he really was that ignorant. I guess either way he's a f- idiot.

It's not necessarily that I believe in evolution, it's more that I just don't care. I think the fakers should die. Those that are in real trouble, they're much better off dead than they are living that lifestyle any way, so they should also die. If everybody would just quit feeding them, they would die already and it'd be one less group of people I'd want to kill. The way I see it, you give a mouse a cookie, he'll want some milk. It's ok to give a mouse a cookie, but when he asks for milk you give him Raid.

I've seen hobos at the end of the day walk to their car around the corner and drive away. I know a lot of them are full of shit. I also know some of them aren't, and really are f-. But like I said, I just don't care. As for those that are full of shit...f- them! And for those that are f-...f- them!


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PostPosted: 07 Aug 2006 00:23 
<center>Everyday I look at myself and I wonder
why?
</center>
It's been 14 days since I last spoke to Hank. As mad as I was at him (and still am...kind of), I really don't like not speaking with him. I feel off balance now. Just feels like he turned his back on me. I guess I should be used to people turning their backs on me...or worse, but...not Hank. It always seemed like no matter how cornered I became, Hank was never against me. He's my safehouse, and I can't stand not having that. I also haven't spoken to my older brother since he was in town being a bastard. I don't particularly miss speaking with him any way though. All he ever does is harass me and try to make disgusting conversation with me -- I guess I just don't care for either.

My older brothers an alcoholic asshole. My sister's an inconsiderate barthelago. My little brothers a bastard. My father's a drug addict. And here I sit in the middle of it all, all alone. I'm always all alone, though, no matter how many people are around. It always seems like theres nothing wrong with me, just problems with everybody who isn't me, and based on that, I figure I'm probably worse than the lot of them and am too blind to see it. I can remember when I was younger, there wasn't anything wrong with anybody. My siblings and I were all close in age, and we were a perfect family. My older brother didn't drink. My sister was kind. My little brother was my twin. Drugs didn't exist. Yeah...we were happy then, playing in the fort our father built, running around with the other kids in the neighborhood making mischief and such. Life was great, I didn't know about anything outside of happiness, and for me, there were no such things. But if I could go back in time and freeze it there, looping around the same years over and over, I wouldn't. It was perfect then, but I like where I am now much better, I wouldn't give this up for the world. There's something about everything around me falling apart, everything gone to shit, everything broken and bleeding, everything dead and dieing, everyhthing gone and lost forever. There's something about all of this I find solice in -- and it's a kind of solice I wouldn't give for the world.

There's just something about having everything so bad that it couldn't possibly get any worse that I find pleasure in. Yeah, things can always get worse. My tiny house could burn down. I could lose my limbs or get AIDS. I could become paralyzed or have severe brain damage and become a vegetable. But I don't care about those things. Those things, to me, are like breaking a blind guy's glasses.

Above all else, I fear Heaven.


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PostPosted: 08 Aug 2006 01:15 
<center>Just someone to hold and someone to hate
And someone to blame for all the pain
</center>
As I was entering the on-ramp to the highway on my way to work today, I noticed a large bus parked in the lot around the caffeteria. And the passengers were unloading as I waited on traffic. Who were these passengers? A bunch of kids on a school field trip? No. Some children coming or going to or from a baseball game? No. A bunch of rejects checkin' out the college campuses in the areas? No.

It was a busload of f-' geriatric blind people. Mostly male I might add. Hole-Ly Shit man. They were stumbling around like a group of senile old folks escaped from the home. They looked like a bunch of freaking retards for cryin' out loud! Waving their canes around slapping shit with them trying to figure out where the f- they were. Oh my god I was laughing so hard I thought I was going to shit myself. First I was just laughing because of how f- hilarious the scene was, I swear it was re-god damn-diculous. It reminds me of the movie "Even dwarfs started small" I think is the title, where the blind dwarves are just swinging their canes trying to hit the not blind dwarves but are so blind they can't hit shit. So then I started thinking, why would a group of blind people be bussing across the f- US? What are the sight seeing?!! They have no eyes! What the hell could they be doing -- they're f- blind old geezers! They should be sitting in their homes dieing, that's what old people do, especially blind ones!

Well, I guess there's a moral to every story -- if there's one thing I learned today, it's that if I wasn't going to hell yesterday, I sure as hell am today.


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 Post subject: To Barb and Hugh Warner
PostPosted: 12 Aug 2006 00:56 
<center>To Barb and Hugh Warner
May God forgive them for bringing me into this world
</center>

I leave for Alaska next week and stay there for two weeks. I love being there, in the cool endless summer days. The only thing I don't like about the area is the lack of night during the summer, but there's lack of day more than lack of night throughout the year, unfortunately I only visit when there is no night. I'd think I'd be excited to go, since I love it so much, but I'm not. I don't think I get excited, don't think I ever have. I guess that part of my brain was left out, or filled with something worse than nothing. As far as excited gets, I'm more excited about the plane ride than anything else. Eight hours of sitting in the same spot doing nothing. Not just having nothing to do, but having to do nothing. I can't remember the last time I just sat around and literally didn't do anything. I'm always keeping so busy, trying to keep from resorting to old ways. But on the plane, I'm safe from that. Security is really tight, so I don't have to worry about even being able to fall back. I can't wait to just daze out for eight hours....can't wait...

If the choices are yes or no -- any day, I choose neither.


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 Post subject: Only In A World So Cold
PostPosted: 13 Aug 2006 00:49 
<center>Only In A World So Cold</center>

This morning at 8am I was supposed to go help a friend move from her a house to an apartment. Due to the previous late night, I didn't leave my house until about 8:05am. As I merged onto the highway, I first began cussing in my thoughts about the ignorant drivers (which is normal). I saw 2 police bikes slowing moving at the front and I realized I had just merged into a funeral procession. I thought to my self, "What the hell, for old time's sake". So I stayed in the procession and followed it to the funeral. I found out it was a male quickly from the old maid who wouldn't stop crying any more than she would part from the casket. I could tell the man had been an important man. He was probably a business man of some type, it was likely he owned a prestigous company somewhere, or at least was a president of some sort. I thought about all of the companies I'd like to work for one day in my area and looked at his picture standing in the flowers to see if I recognized him. Not anybody I'd seen before. It was blatantly obvious he was wealthy just looking at the box he slumbered in, along with the surrounding headstones in the area, the abundance of expensive flowers all over, and the funeral in general. But I know he was important purely because of the people who attended. Over half of them were fakes. You could see it in their teary eyes, their stance, their expressions, the way they spoke, the way they talked; you could see it in everything they did. I spoke to the guy nearest me. I first asked how he was holding up. He said he'd miss the man, and that he was a great person and is in Heaven now. I told him I thought the guy was an asshole most of the time and didn't deserve what he had before he died, much less what he has now. The guy I was talking to said "Yeah........you're probably right." There I was, standing in the middle of a funeral, belittling a corpse, a corpse of a man I'd never even met, and I got away with every word I said.


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