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Posted 18 August 2003, 3.08 am by Villager

I feel I am at something of an impasse. I have always had goals and aspirations, however vague or trivial. I have always felt that there was plenty of room for personal improvement, both in the way that I viewed myself and the criteria that I should set for myself. Now, whether through a subconscious triumph of vanity or a solemn realisation that there is no such thing as a path to enlightenment or even real worth in striving, I no longer feel these things. I no longer desire to improve myself. This past year I have vastly accelerated my thirst for knowledge and have given much care to giving time to learn about such things that occur to me now and then, some typical and obvious, others less so. I have also endeavoured to improve myself physically, and am now in the best shape I have ever been. I am physically as healthy as I could wish and I want for nothing. Intellectually, you could say I have the world at my feet. I have the time and freedom to learn and develop myself psychologically in a fashion that the great majority of human beings have never enjoyed. Perhaps I am merely inherently ungrateful, and am registering a kind of spoilt boredom with the life I lead. I feel disinclined to label it mere apathy; I've been there before and decided it to be a far simpler emotion. The strangest thing is that I'm not entirely unhappy about all this.

You see, it all started off with a kind of contemptuous backlash at the materialistic and superficial nature of seemingly all that surround me (something I know to be an unfair generalisation, but that seems not to be of great import). If I'm honest - which seems to be an unduly difficult task when it come to myself - I thought that a desire to become learned, coupled with my lack of enthusiasm for consumerism, meant that I was somehow better than those I looked down upon. But of course, though I exist in a comparatively simple way to some, I love and rely upon my modern comforts just like everyone else. Now, as I find myself rather similar to when I embarked, my task seems to lead nowhere. I have a fit and healthy body, but nothing to do with it. My mind is more open and welcoming of new ideas than ever before, yet I no longer feel compelled to seek them out. I am not really unhappy, and at times even allow myself to feel content, just existing. I am drifting along in a gentle current of comfort, indulgence and repressed confusion. While broader questions of existence and purpose of course remain unresolved, they seem rather less urgent than they once did.

Perhaps I am just tired. Perhaps I will feel very different in a few months' time. Or perhaps I'm not so different as once I liked to think.

Round and Round

Posted 15 August 2003, 10.37 pm by Green Mamba

Sometimes we follow the light … sometimes the darkness ... sometimes it's hard to tell the difference.

With the sun on my back I followed my shadow … into the sea of Tranquility … and as the day grew older … my shadow longer … my steps became urgent. Until suddenly my shadow escaped and I was left in the depths of a vast empty ocean of darkness … afraid and alone. So I sat down in the soft gray sand and built a castle with many rooms … servant’s quarters … stables and a fishpond in the courtyard…

The darkness passed and the sun waved at me from the distant shore … so I looked at my castle and I looked at my shadow behind me … wondering why he had left me alone in the dark. All through the day I followed my shadow … and all through the night I built my castle until one day I realized that the shadow I followed was following me …

So, with my shadow behind me I followed the sun … into the sea of Tranquility … and as the day grew older … my shadow closer … my steps became labored. Until suddenly my shadow caught up and I was left in the depth of a vast ocean full of light … afraid and alone. So I sat down in the soft gray sand and built a castle with many rooms … servant’s quarters … stables and a fishpond in the courtyard.

Midday passed and my shadow crept towards the distant shore … I looked at my castle and I looked at the sun behind me … wondering why he had left me drowning in this ocean of light. So all through the rest of the day I followed the sun … and all through the night I dreamt of my castle until one day I realized that the sun I followed was following me…

So I looked at my shadow and I looked at the sun … and I realized that I was right back where I started … So with my shadow behind me I followed the sun … and when my shadow caught up I rested a moment and followed my shadow … and all through the night I built my castle … with many rooms … servant’s quarters … stables and a fishpond in the courtyard…

Drive a Porche Carrera!!

Posted 10 August 2003, 8.41 pm by Craig

Visit Site.

Perfect Plastic People

Posted 9 August 2003, 9.13 pm by The Green Mamba

Erratic sunlit waterfalls breaking through the clouds … casting jagged broken dreams on stark gray concrete sidewalks … shadows walking though the city … leading you and me into everlasting hell. Where are you going and what is your name? I have lived a thousand lifetimes, but yesterday is already fading in the murky depths of what is still to come.

I fell asleep on the couch during a movie about the meaninglessness of life and awoke sometime later watching “Who wants to be a Millionaire”. Awkwardly twisted limbs have left my right foot asleep and I struggle to write a long overdue letter to my mother with my left hand… thanking her for all the milk and cookies over the years.

The Easter bunny’s coming to town and all the hunters have loaded their rifles … rabbit season is now officially open. We’re gonna shoot them in the head, cut off their balls, paint them in all the colors of the rainbow and hide them in the bushes … just to see the smiles on our children’s faces. If only they knew the price we paid for a basket full of eggs. In a crimson sunset chocolate looks just like blood on our hands.

Through dusty lucid eyelids I ascend into the sky surrounded by a swarm of raging rabid butterflies … gnawing at the pile of old bones in the closet of my mind. Fortunately the mind-numbing strobe-like picture perfect world of shifting polygons is there to eradicate my consciousness. Strange how the only progress we have made since man was carved from a pile of mud (or was that shit) is an artificial means of escape from the world we live in. From a struggle to stay alive to a struggle against insanity … all we have shown the gods is our ability to shift the focus of our hopeless dreams.

Once upon a time, the only thing mankind cared about was a food and shelter for its family. Now we sit around on our fat lazy asses hoping there’s something good on TV, watching the news … bitching and moaning about the crooked hand that fate has dealt us … listening to the gunshots being fired less than two miles away. Do you ever contemplate the fact that by the time that sound reached your living room, the person the gun was pointed at may already be dead? It may even have been someone you know … or worse … someone you care about.

But who cares … really … Baywatch is up next and we can indulge ourselves in the plastic lives of picture perfect people shooting fake bullets and crying onion induced tears over stay-fast makeup behind a perfect set of bleached teeth and artificial tans.

Confessions of an Ex-Phone Psychic (Part 1 of 2)

Posted 9 August 2003, 3.03 pm by VanGogh

To begin, we must set the scene. It was pre-9/11, but the economy was already headed south. As always, I was working as a self-employed web designer. Business was getting thin, and I was looking for ways to make a few extra bucks. I was discussing my plight with an online friend who was in a similar situation. We were joking about odd jobs we could do when she directed me to an ad on It went something like this:

Tarot Readers, Spiritual Advisors, Astrologers, etc. Work at Home
We are looking for tarot readers, spiritual advisors, astrologers, etc needed for our psychic line. This is a work at home position. Must have psychic ability. Must have good communication skills and the desire to help others. For more information, you can contact me at

I laughed and surfed on.

Then I thought about what a kick it would be to say I had been a psychic, and I went back. I looked at the ad some more. I focused on the line that read “Must have psychic ability”. Hmmm, definitely a stumbling point. I’ve been called many things, but never psychic. Throwing good sense to the wind, I decided to go ahead and make contact anyway, if for no other reason than to see how they tested that sort of thing.

Though the ad said nothing about it, it turned out I was applying to work for Ms. Cleo’s Psychic Network. That would be the incense-burning, West-Indian-talking lady who slapped down tarot cards and advice at a breakneck pace on infomercials all over late-night TV in the United States, and all over the rest of the world for all I know.

I sent out an email asking some questions and received what may be the fastest personalized response in the history of email. It wasn’t a form letter, but a bunch of specific answers to my questions, and a request for my phone number. Being in a rather playful mood, I sent it to them. Within two minutes I was on the phone with Rachel, the lady who was to become my “Psychic Manager”, a.k.a. my boss.

Rachel was very polite, if in a slightly business-tone sort of way. Very professional, and didn’t give off any of the flaky vibe I had been expecting. It felt more like I was talking to a real-estate agent than a person who traded in spirits and misdirected hope. After some quick questions about my background, my age, and whether or not I wanted to do this full time, she asked me for my fax number. I gave it to her and she faxed me a sheath of papers. Amongst the sheets was a list of rules, (no call-waiting on your phone, no explicit discussion of sex, no putting someone on hold), and a poorly written, grammatically butchered ‘Psychic Manual’. This manual, amongst other things, described a typical call.

According to the good manual, my ultimate goal during any call wasn’t to provide the caller with answers, or psychic insight, but to simply keep them on the line for an average of 19 minutes. (19 minutes x $4.99 per minute = $94.81) This isn't as easy as it might seem, especially since the first three minutes of each reading are free. Knowing that, many callers hope to get a the answers to their questions in those first three minutes, and then hang up. (I had more than my fair share of hang-up clicks as the first three minutes of the calls drew to a close.) And of course, since you looking for an average call length of 19 minutes, those two and three minute calls can really hurt your average. To counter the free three minute thing, we were instructed ask each caller for his or her name, address, and e-mail address, so that Ms. Cleo could continue to communicate with them by mail. I was also required to give out the company's 900 number, together with my personal five-digit ID number, so that the customer could call back "in case we get disconnected." All of that, of course, takes up most of the free three minutes. Not that we were to tell them that. After all, that would almost be fair.

At the heart of each conversation are the 78 cards of the tarot deck. A "psychic" puts a caller at ease, collects their name, number, email, mailing address, and anything else they’ll give us, and then deals out a specific number of cards in varying positions. (There are as many ways to do a tarot card reading as there are people doing them. As you shall see, my personal style varied from orthodox to downright silly.) You then read the cards and try to make some sort of impact on the caller. Above all else, you keep them on the phone. Every minute they keep listening is another minute you get paid for.

The card meanings themselves are insanely generic, monumentally unspecific, and usually hopeful. For example, "The Empress" card carries the following explanation: "A young fertile female. Can also represent material gifts. Maybe a mother having a baby or fertility in your financial situation. Gifts and money in progress. A good money card, or a female influence." A lot of ground covered here, a wealth of possibilities. Easy to adapt it to your life, especially when you’re desperate enough to be paying $4.99 a minute to hear this reading in the first place.

Money and sex are two fairly consistent threads throughout the cards. Either a lack of, or an addiction to. Sometimes both. There is an occasional negative card, but for the most part they are optimistic; wealth and happiness are the most common upshot. According to the cards, we are all a bunch of success stories just waiting to happen.

So with all of this information in hand, I started my life as a part-time phone psychic. I purchased a deck of tarot cards off of ( This Deck, if you’re interested.) I had a 1-800 number to call when I wanted to work. I called it, entered some pin codes, and then I hung up. Pretty soon the phone would do it’s special three chirp ring to let me know I had a call, and that was when the fun really began.

(To Be Concluded)

channel 4 experiment.

Posted 6 August 2003, 10.17 am by TonyChef

Heads up english grinders- Derren Brown, the mind reading nutter from the channel 4 shows has decided to play russian roulette... and you could load the gun!

Click on this link and complete the application (not what you might expect...). I have already, i cant wait to see gray matter!

laughed my ass off!

Posted 6 August 2003, 10.09 am by TonyChef

Seize the day.

Posted 5 August 2003, 9.02 pm by Jake

Carpe Diem. Seize the day. Seize the fucking day.

This little adage rattles around in everyone’s head, whether there’s vacant space there or not. Everyone chooses to take a chance every once in a while. Whether for good or for bad, you can always rest assured that there’s some gung-ho hero out there busting ass trying to make their own difference…but in what sense? How much of a difference can be made nowadays? Personally, I like the statement. But I’m selfish, you see. I take a leap of faith when I think it’s a good time to do so, for me (and sometimes for others). Self-improvement is the big thing nowadays, it seems. But everyone has their own perception of self-improvement. Bigger dicks, bigger tits, a facelift, more muscles…all of these are people’s goals. Many think that self-improvement only exists in the physical aspect, and that’s where they fail.

We’re all so busy trying to impress others with what we can readily present to them, that nobody’s willing to take the chance to get to know someone or get into a situation that, while a little scary, might actually do them some good. Maybe self-improvement should become a term that’s almost readily interchangeable with the concept of self-sacrifice. People piss and moan about changing things, about making life better, but they fail to realize everyone has to improve before everything else does. You have to take the incentive. You have to be the voice of protest, the voice of reason. We have to become better people before we can readily judge others. Experience is a must. Too many people try to be the hero, yet they are ill-equipped to do so. They fling themselves headlong into whatever they can in order to be a martyr, to prove their self-worth. Observation is key. A sense of understanding is a must. You can read all of the books in the world, you can propose philosophical theories until your head spins like Linda Blair, and you can stand on your soapbox and scream bloody murder until God’s wrath rains down upon us all in a veritable hailstorm of judgment, but you can’t really say shit until you’ve been there. Until you’ve taken a chance. Until you’ve proved what you’re made of. And why do I take it upon myself to say all this?

Because I’m totally fucking flawless. The rest of you, however, have a lot of room to improve.
(And before anyone wants to get anal and piss and moan about my last line, IT’S A JOKE. Take a deep breath, remove the stick from your ass, and enjoy it while you can.)

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This piece was inspired by Andy Warhol's famous 'marilyn monroe' piece in which the same picture is used several times to create a pattern. If you look closely, you'll realise there's a lot going on here with the detailed background against the simple pixelated images create a convergence which I thought would be nice to experiment with. It was created in Photoshop and took me 5 hours to perfect.

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Props to Green Mamba for bringing the weirdness


80s candy bars were pretty good

only because i traded it for a candy bar in the 80's.

lol we all know you don't have a soul ghoti

my soul for some carbs...

But of course!


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