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Black Cat on My Shoulder

Posted 9 May 2003, 2.07 pm by Villager

So much has changed. I had a rough idea of what I wanted to do next so I left. I didn't have much idea of what would happen but that didn't really seem important at the time. I had to get away, you understand. I couldn't stay there, I was stagnating. People and places had become so familiar as to be meaningless. I tried to hold onto the affection I remember so vividly feeling, but I wasn't allowed to. What I once felt so passively walking aimlessly around, eluded my sincerest searches. And that just left the people. The people who, some time ago, promised me my future lay with them. It seemed so natural to believe them, yet without explanation I found myself thinking very differently to how they were talking. I didn't tell them I was leaving. Not until I had to go. Leaving with no explanation was somehow easier than helping them to understand.

At first, doubts began to creep in. If anything the wider world served to confirm the darker of my suspicions and the hollow relationships I endured almost provoked me into thinking I had left something behind to come here. In a sense I did, but the elusive beauty of a nature slowly being torn apart by the advance of man is as sad as it is beautiful. Then followed a time when I allowed - encouraged, even - myself to be distracted by new ideas, new knowledge and a well rounded lifestyle. Trouble is, in the pursuit of stimulation I came no nearer to understanding.

And so, now, I find myself at best satisfied to calmly comtemplate the possibilities, and content myself with the belief that I am closer to understanding myself, if nothing more. Why I was required to change everything else just to see that I hadn't changed at all is still a mystery to me. I once thought the calm, quiet, detached place I grew up in was what I loved dearly. But now, having come so far and seen much different along the way, I realise that the beauty of an ancient village lies not in the history and the architecture, but in the striking absence of people. As that changes, though, I realise that if I cannot find enough people who understand, I'll have to go somewhere where there is at least nobody who doesn't.

Moving out was the best thing I ever did.

The Dream-Quest of Unknown Shaggy

Posted 8 May 2003, 2.32 pm by Shaggy

Greetings and salutations from my long haitus. I will, as you all have no doubt been praying for, post on a much more regular basis now that I have not school issues to worry about. Exams: how they suck and suck until there is no soul left.

At any rate, forms of contemplation have been rapidly altering for me. I suppose, upon retrospect, this is not necessarily a new thing. I discuss this maturation process rather often on the site. Perhaps I am eventually on the path to enlightenment, or perhaps I just am less of a weiner than before.

Yet, my pathways have not become closed simply because I am finished one other year at my University life. Nor am I closed off to the realm of the intellectual merely because I work at Dairy Queen, on the grill, a mindless enterprise in itself, and am going tonight for a meeting at a call centre (even more mindless). No, indeed, my pathways have not been closed, nor am I lazy enough to close them. I am not one to quit school to wonder off on some booze-filled romp. Anyone who has discussed my life goals with me knows that I am at the point of insanity with them...

I will be heard.

Long is the path, and longer still is the destination, but with ever-growing support from the world around me, and with an ever-increasing drive on my part, I will eventually succeed in my goals, and bring the world of my art into a new era. My name will go down with Shakespeare, Lermontov, Dostoyevsky, Homer, Pindar, Sophocles, Dickens, Nietzsche, Poe, Plautus, or Euripides... I will be the new Kipling, the new Stevens, Williams, or Dickenson. My name will be etched alongside Tolstoy and George Eliot, by Joyce and Fichte, Schelling and Schlleiermacher, Hegel and Balzac...

Such is my Dream-Quest, and, like many of Lovecraft's passions, mine will be a collision of old and new style, a form that will be the product of much blood, sweat, and tears.

Indeed, much has already been shed...

And so, I move on to my project list: two novels, a screenplay, poetry, and countless short stories, as well as many more front page articles for the Grinders to look forward to.

Until next time, be you at peace, my friends.

Homo sum: humani nihil a me alienum puto

Ah...the random insanity of it...

Posted 8 May 2003, 3.07 am by Strawberry

Well, here I sit, stumbling across this site again, as I look through all my various bookmarks, avoiding papers to write, tests to study, and things to pack. Why I do this? I don't know. Maybe it's because I lack motivation. It's not that my content of my classes aren't interesting. Some of them are damn interesting, with lots I can get into. It's just...well...everything seems so blah lately. The Spring-time blahs :P not quite, because I've had the "blahs" all this year. Part of it is probably separation anxiety from the friends I made before I transferred here. Part of it is probably the lack of direction I feel in my life now. 2 years ago, it was so easy, I wanted to be an architect. Last year wasn't even that bad, even though I decided architecture wasn't for me at that point in my life. I had friends, I had things to go to, I had a LIFE. I tried this year, really I did, to keep the "life" alive, but with no friends to have it with, it came to an all out flop.
So what do I plan now? Nothing concrete. Go home, work at a fast food joint, try to get to Iowa to see a friend of mine's younger sister graduate, see my younger brother graduate, and possibly run away mid-June to my friend's. Yeah, that sound like a plan to me. Possibly go to Louisiana in September, too. And move either there or Minnesota in January. Hope this works. Yeah...don't even know why I submitted this. Darn random insanity.

Growing Up

Posted 4 May 2003, 4.16 pm by The Green Mamba

First of all, dare I say that adulthood is highly overrated … with that in mind let us explore the shades of gray separating boys from men

In my mind there is only one thing that separates a boy from a man (or a child for an adult), aside from physical changes, and that is Responsibility.

It is a process mental and spiritual growth wherein you eventually reach a stage where you accept responsibility for you actions. Unfortunately, one of the side effects of adulthood is the loss of innocence. The moment you become aware of the consequences of your actions, you have to accept responsibility for the results. Failure to accept responsibility for any consequences you were aware of taints your soul and torments your spirit. This is more commonly referred to as the development of a conscience, which ultimately governs your every action.

I have seen people develop a conscience from as little as 11 and 12, but I have also seen others still struggling with adolescence in their late twenties. Age is of no consequence in the transition from child to adult.

Another unfortunate side effect of a conscience is what I refer to as, your sense of What If …

What if I loose control of my car and die?
What if the branch can't hold my weight?
What if I fail and loose everything?
The list goes on and differs per individual

Children have no fear, because they have no sense of "What if". They will climb the highest tree, jump of the roof, and tease the dog, etc. without any regard for the consequences of their actions. Neither do they have a conscience or will they accept responsibility for their actions. They will lay the blame on anything and anybody other than themselves (mostly inanimate objects) and will even go as far as to attempt the same foolishness again and again.

I believe that the ideal situation would be to reach a stage where you can accept the consequences for your actions, but before and during any act, you relinquish your sense of "What if". These people are normally the ones who succeed in life. They are willing to take risks, but when things go wrong they are mature enough to accept responsibility.

In all things I always strive to be childlike, but not childish ... Accept responsibility, but not back down out of fear for the consequences.

Unfortunately, I always fail. I over analyze things and live with a constant sense of What if. Instead of guiding me my conscience tends to holds me back. Maybe someday, instead of What If, I will stare death straight in the eyes and say “What the Fuck”

The best day?

Posted 2 May 2003, 3.30 am by Jake

I smacked the glass in frustration. Shit. Ten minutes left, and I was going to be late to one of the biggest events in my life. I was going to get married, a feat which had yet to be accomplished by my four brothers who still lived at home, thirty-five years old, jaded with life and women and still under the protective wing of Mommy Dearest. My sister had been married. Too many times, to be honest. Poor woman was twenty-five, had been married four times and had three kids to raise. She had all she could handle. So it was within my best interests when I met this sweet chick at the office, took her out a few times, and realized that I had to have her, a ring on her finger and her kissing me when I came home in the evening. I had to wake up to that face, I had to hold her hand when she bore my children. Even if it was while she was screaming in agonizing pain and jerking my goddamned arm out of the socket as a doctor yelled “PUSH!!! PUSH!!!!”

I was standing at the bank, waiting for a check to be cashed. The damn thing wouldn’t go through. Agitated, I paced the floor, waiting for the mousy-looking teller to give me my fucking gas money so that I could get out of there and face my destiny, face the person that I would know for the rest of my life. My family, her family, and numerous friends were awaiting me, and here I was, soon to be late. To my own wedding, nonetheless. I looked over my shoulder as a tall man with a mustache came strolling in the door. He looked pretty important, with the suit and the briefcase and the guys flanking him on each side. I paid him no mind and got back to the task at hand, which happened to be bitching at the inept teller-woman, calling her every name under the sun, cursing, and pointing at my tuxedo. Suddenly, shit started to happen.

A grizzled-looking old man staggered in the door and began waving a pistol around. Great. The best day of my life, and now I’m going to get shot by some two-bit drunk crazed on hatred and scorn. Perfect. People started yelling, women screamed, people hit the floor like a drunken prom date at the midnight hour. And I stood there, bewildered, thinking, “Is this shit really happening to me?” And yes, it was, as plain as it could be. The man yelled at a teller nearby to empty the safe and to get him $5000 from the vault as well, or he’d go on a shooting spree to rival that of the local high school last winter, when some rich kid snapped and started blasting students and teachers left and right. Death count? 20. The cops gunned the kid down, amazed at the fact that a young upstanding citizen had the gall to snap and shoot up the goddamned schoolyard like it was one of his father’s selling sessions on Wall Street. Hell, he had a reason for it. With a greedy family like that, I’d have slaughtered my folks. If it weren’t for the chance that the hired help would have caught me. Enough about me, though, and back to the situation that unfolded before me. Well, above me, actually. I was curled up in a whimpering heap underneath a large oak desk that probably belonged to the bank manager. As long as it kept the hollow-points away, I didn’t care.

Cue more action. The guy gets the money and starts yelling hysterically. He’s waving the gun around, and fires off a couple of shots. I think that the guy next to me pissed himself. He didn’t have long to piss, though, as a noise that sounded close to that of cannon fire resonated through the lobby. I watched as a man fell, wailing in pain, clutching his thigh. The old bastard was drunk. Maybe I could sneak out the….forget that. Wailing sirens broke my thoughts of escape. The cops. Thank God. I heard some yelling, and the man began to rant excitedly. He fired off another shot, randomly. And all I wanted was my money and to be standing at the altar next to pretty little Courtney, the love of my life. Fuck. I checked the time, and I was already five minutes late. Chances are, everyone’s pissed off. I’m fucked. Suddenly shots ring out, a volley of gunfire twinged with the shattering of glass, and I see the man fall. Huh. I rolled out from under the desk, and began to crawl my way to the door. I passed several people who were curled up in the fetal position, wailing about their families and their dogs and their life insurance and all the other trivial bullshit that didn’t matter anymore to me. I headed for the door. I had a wedding to get to. Mine. As I wormed my way past the old man, I snatched a bundle of bills from his cold hand. He wasn’t gonna miss it, and neither was the bank. I needed gas money, and at this point I could have given a fuck less. I shoved it into my jacket pocket and shuffled to the door, on hands and knees. “Sweet Courtney, here I come. I hope my in-laws don’t hate me for all this.”

Dante's Inferno Test

Posted 2 May 2003, 2.49 am by marilee

Which Level of Hell do you belong in?

Possibly Impossible

Posted 26 April 2003, 10.08 pm by The Green Mamba

Let us explore the relevancy of CAN and CAN'T ...

How many times in one day do you not here a sentence beginning with, "I can't" or even better, "But, I can't ...
I tell you not a day goes by without me hearing it at least once ...

Strange, isn't it how we can weave words around things that do not exist at all, for truly there is no such a thing.
CAN'T only bears relevancy in any sentence if it used in conjunction with YET. Example ... I can't fly ... Bullshit, you can't ... Correction ... I can't fly, yet.

Now there are much more extreme circumstances to which the irrelevance of can't can be applied, just as the phrase, I can't is used in a more casual manner by the average Joe or Jane. More than often this phrase is used by
the individual to express his or her unwillingness to even make an attempt at accomplishing something. Instead of pausing, thinking and then saying, Fuck you, I won't do it, all we ever get to a challenging request like,
"Can you hold your breath for 5 hours?" is, "NO, I CAN'T" ...

Which brings me to the CAN (No, not the soft fleshy mound, that usually comes in plural) part of things ... If I refer to my own question above, you will see that I in my ignorance was provoking an irrelevant response in the first place. CAN YOU HOLD ... Instead I should have rather asked ... Will you or Try to ... And maybe I would have received the desired response ...

We should really think more about how we ask questions and in the same breath (5 hours if you want to) formulate our responses to questions such as CAN YOU in a manner which does not rule out any and all current and
future possibilities ... After all, the laws of nature are not carved in stone and like all laws exist as crossable boundaries ... The trick in avoiding such things are the same ... If you manage to avoid getting caught by either the laws of man or the laws of nature, there is no proof that you have overstepped your boundaries. A thief does not say, I can't steal that, simply because he is afraid of being caught. No, if you tell him that he can't, he will simply make an attempt at proving you wrong and in most cases will succeed ... Now I am not a supporter of thieves, but I
am simply trying to prove a point, by using an example of how, if the laws of man can be broken, so too can the laws of nature.

The only thing that prevents us from breaking these laws are our own pre-programmed disposition that the laws of nature can't be broken ... Which strange enough brings me back to my original argument ... CAN'T DOES NOT EXIST ... IF IT IS THINKABLE, IT IS ATTAINABLE ... IF IT IS ATTAINABLE, IT IS INEVITABLE. The sooner we realize that the sooner we can start exploring beyond the boundaries of our own imagination.


Posted 25 April 2003, 9.10 am by ostensibletruth

I'm in college, but I'm only sixteen, so I live with my mother. Although I am trying to get a job and move out. She has left for five days to Pheonix for vacation. My mother is very unrestrictive. She let's me stay at home alone and she lets me have people over and she pretty much just lets me do whatever I want, as long as I do some chores. My father puts absolutely no responsibility on me and gives me no freedom.

Tommorow I plan to have my girlfriend, Sarah, over. My mother is okay with this. My father called and told me he tells me to come over tommorow for the weekend to his house. (Or, actually, I should say my grandparents house. My father lives with his parents.) I explained that I had plans and what I was doing. He asked if Sarah's parents knew she was coming. They're Mormons, so of course they do not. He then asks for their phone number in order to prevent her from coming over. I tell him that my mother was okay with this and he tells me that he'll call my mother before calling her parents and if she's not okay with it he calls her parents and I must come over to his house tommorow. That should work out for me since my mom's okay with it.

My father takes control of my life. He says, "Tommorow you will come over to my house after school because I want you to." "Sarah will not come over tommorow because I don't want her to." The results of doing this? Next time I'm in a similar situation I will lie to him. I won't tell him what I'm doing and I'll make up some excuse for staying here. He doesn't actually keep me from doing anything, he just makes me have to do it behind his back.

My mother let's me control my life. This isn't to say that she doesn't care, she just knows the way to care effectively. Her method is to tell me what she thinks about my decisions and explain to me why she thinks I should or shouldn't do something. This enables me to be honest with her. It's not necassary for me to lie about what I'm doing in order to do it, so I don't. That's a good reason to do this obviously, but a lot of people would say it doesn't prevent me from doing these things. They are wrong.

Consider this example: For a few months after my first girlfriend dumped me I started drinking. I didn't do it often or very heavily, but it was, obviously, enough to worry my mother. She explained to me why I shouldn't be drinking, that it would only make things worse, etc. I don't need to go into the details. She could have locked up all the alcohol and kept me from drinking. But I probably would have just gone drinking with some idiots from school (high school at the time) and that could have been more harmful than just ignoring it altogether. But when it was explained to me and I was given good reasons, plus it showed, to me, that she cared more than if she had just locked it away. And I stopped drinking. That's the big part, it worked.

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A year or so ago I undertook a study entitled 'Faces of Death'. I produced a quite substantial body of work concerning corpses, and faces in particular. I concentrated mainly on victims of murder. This image was produced by rolling a thick layer of ink onto a steel plate and rubbing, scratching and soaking it off with turps. The plate was then pressed onto paper, and this is the result.

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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!

Yo ! Does this work ?


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