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Posted 26 January 2003, 2.25 pm by Jake

Oh my fucking god.

You'll never have to masturbate to cure boredom...again.

The Blood In My Veins

Posted 24 January 2003, 9.34 pm by shaggy

Like twisted wires they wrap around me. They are my weakness, and they are my strength. They take the blood inside me, and takes it to passageways unseen, to the depths inside of me, to my soul.

I would give anything to see what my soul is comprised of. I would like to see what it breathes, what it strives upon. I would like to console it, to tell it that the world is not as wicked as it seems, that all is just a temporary condition that will go away with patience.

I watched the movie feardotcom. In it, a woman repeats "Do you want to hurt me" so many times that yes, you do indeed want to hurt her so that she will not repeat that wretched phrase. How interminably useless such a question is: of course there is someone who wishes to hurt you. Not only would it make a pathetic movie if no one actually wanted to hurt you, dear, but it also would be an ultimate lie to say that the world is free from such harm.

If I walked out of my door, exposed myself, and shouted "Do you want to hurt me," I have no doubt that I would not survive the night.

What are my veins? What is flesh but inconsolidated and impure, something wretched. There is an instinct that relies on existence, an instinct that allows me to move on. I would not say that it is a sixth sense, or anything so trivial. Rather, it is a sense of something insensate, something on the edge of temporal and pyschological existence, something pure, not tainted by the human sickness. Flesh means nothing: it is the mind that creates, it is the mind that hates and loves, it is the mind that feels passion and sickness. Without the mind, we are nothing but globs of blood, guts, and water, and the concept of being nothing more than my parts is a thought to sinister to allow myself to feel.

What are aesthetics, then? What is the importance of fooling one's self that knowledge can be attained? Physics holds short, mathematics as well, and philosophy is only a catalyst to the ultimate end. What then is the purity that I seek?

I thought it was love, but now that I have it as pure as I can find, as pure and blind as anything I can ever hope to feel, is my path, then, ended? Have I found what I was looking for all my life, or is there something more, something benign and malevolent, both passion and pain, that lies on the edges of my sanity?

I feel lacking, somehow, and I am wondering if I can ever find the source of power that Lacan calls The Phallus (and no, Freudians, that is not limited to the penis). If love cannot make me complete, what then?

Passion and pain, really, are inseparable. They both can be summed up in "play," for to play the game of existence is to feel intolerable pain and torture.

Perhaps that is why my blood whore exists, ravishing as the red crimson flows upon her breasts. We will come, as they say, drunk on her immorality, and burn forever in judgment. It is written, though by a mortal man "envisioning" what God's message might be.

I think God's message is at once singular and simple: Love. After all is said and done, what other purpose is there but to be company to each other, to take part in each other as a whole, and to further perpetuate not only love, but existence and tolerance?

That is all well and good, but what about that ten-inch blade sticking into my chest? Am I not able to say "F### you" or to feel anger?

No, but that is something that needs to be further worked out. Vengeance is such a complicated issue, for it is in human nature, as biological entities that are taking over the world like a virus, to want and need a strict system of order, and how can a system work without punishment for deviation?

I would say, for me, the thing that stops me from sinning the most: silence. I am shy, thus I do not speak out in public often. I do not say things like "you bumped into me, thus I must punch in your face," like Bin Laden, Sadam Hussein, and Bush are playing right now. Not that I encourage submissiveness, but I think one should only be active when it is one's nature, or there is something to be active against. I am passive by nature, and have nothing to fight against except this empty pit inside me, one I cannot expect to bring out into the physical world. I fear doing such, bringing my soul and unconcious into the outside world would be to create such a frightening, nightmarish world that no one would survive. So I remain quiet.

Then again, some might say that I live a sad, sheltered existence.

I think it is inevitable for me to be a fool. Why not a quiet one? It suits me for the time being. Maybe at another time, I will need and thirst for loudness, for destruction.

For now, I'll rely on the cathartic effects of heavy metal: the world in which a constant war is made after nothing at all, really.

Ahhhh. The greatest combination anyone can have on a mp3 list: Bach, Mozart, Mudvayne (though we'll leave out the fact that they are poets before musicians), Marilyn Manson, Finger 11, and Chopin... et alia.

The Dream

Posted 23 January 2003, 5.25 am by arguile

My desk is littered with remains of what I can only assume were once remnants of productivity. Times when thoughts and emotions and random orchestrations appeared out of pure nothingness and the slightest motion was something that could have turned into a self-gratifying piece of work.

But now there is less to the present than there ever was to the past. Walking through day-to-day motions seem like walking through a minefield after you've put back a few beers at the pub an hour earlier. Details begin to blur, and definitions of what is happening and what you want to happen begin to jumble themselves into a harsh sense of irony. All the while a brief flicker of light on my desktop reminds me that the moment is happening, and that things are irrefutably progressing forward.

When times get hard, I'm able to stare at that flickering light and wonder why it is that it can seem so interesting to me. It's nothing more than a failing light bulb; one that has been around for I can only imagine how long. The closest thing I can assume is that perhaps I've had a dream in which it played a key asset to the protagonist, or some sort of aid in time of need to whomever found out its secret.

I often tend to dream of things I could never achieve in actuality, such as winning awards, or killing dragons; I very rarely dream of things that make sense or are practical, which makes dreams that I can relate to an uplifting experience. I can remember one dream I had a few days ago that struck a chord somewhere I won't ever be able to find again, it was a dream that was so remarkable in its simplicity that it could cause someone to look at life, or cereal, or anything they wished in a different light. I know it at least had that affect on me.

My dream is of a beach, but there is no water; there are no people, there are no houses, there are no trees. There is sand as far down the shore as can be seen, but instead of water there is nothingness. I walk to this beach in my dream, and I begin to try and wade in the poor excuse for water that my subconscious has granted me. But when I goto put a foot in to test it's warmth, or density, or existance at all, something inside me draws my foot back down to the sand. I walk as far down the length of that beach as I can before being tired and rest upon the shore. It's there that I fall asleep, curled up in the sand.

Someone once told me that dreams can hold thousands of thoughts in a single moment. But the strange thing about dreams is that what they tell you directly depends on what you're looking for. I'm not sure what any of the obvious symbolism in my dream meant, for all I know it could be telling me that I'm not eating enough, or that I should change my brand of cologne.

I've told this dream to a few people I know, and they all told me that it means assorted things: one told me it meant that I was afraid of a decision I had to make, and another told me that my indecision could lead to a fruitless and uneventful life. The only constant opinion that I get is that I'm hesitating to do something I needed to do. I'm not sure what it is that this dream symbolized or was attempting to reveal to me, but I've been trying to live my life to make myself the happiest. I wasn't able to see the future when I was younger, and I don't profess to be able to now, but I know that there will not be a future for myself if I don't make the path as paved as possible.

There still comes times when I miss her, and when I look back with sorrow and consternation at choices I've made. But I cannot find it in myself to regret what I've done at any point in my life, because each situation I've faced has made me the person that I am today. I still watch that light when I have little to do or think about. It's scintillating intensity bothers my retinas when I'm finished, but it makes me happy to have something so simple occupy my time. Is the light a symbol of life?

Now you're looking TOO far into things.


Posted 22 January 2003, 5.08 am by The_Roach

It's 8:30 in the morning. I'm exhausted, my eyes nothing more than slits as I painfully work to prevent the lids from snapping shut and locking my lashes together. I reek of body odor and hastily applied deodorant and my pant legs are sticking to my thighs from dried sweat. Most importantly, though, I'm smoking my last cigarette.

I meant to sleep tonight... last night. I have a lot of things that demand my attention today, and I don't know now if I'll be able to accomplish any of them. It's way past my bedtime. An hour ago, I exceptionally rude to Spooky's younger sister because her phone call broke my concentration. No matter how much I would like to say that I spent all of tonight learning the intricacies of the PHP scripting system as I had intended, it's simply not the case.

At 5:30 AM on January 17th, I lifted Syrup from atop my scanner. By page two, I had chuckled three times and realized that all hope of rest was lost.

Maxx Barry is quick to point out that this is certainly not the way employees of the venerable Coca-Cola company would behave themselves. He's got an entire page devoted to this disclaimer. If I honestly believed that this were the case, I'd be damn disappointed.

The average adult is said to have three million dollar ideas per year. Scat, an unemployed marketing god-to-be, has just had one. It's called Fukk and he's convinced that it's going to revolutionize the soft drink industry. What's different about it? It comes in a black can with the word Fukk emblazoned across it in red.

That's it.

When Scat takes it to Coca-Cola, he meets the woman of his dreams. Aggressive, smart, and undeniably sexy. Her name is 6, she's a lesbian, and she knows that Fukk will change the world. Too bad for Scat that he's already fucked up his own deal. Well, that and the woman of his dreams is a lesbian.

What follows in the next two hundred and fifty pages is an uproarious ride through the often bitter and cruel corporate marketing world. Scat is repeatedly crushed and defeated despite constant success against unbelievable odds. All of this leading up to the ultimate prize, the wet dream of any marketer: The 90 minute advertisement.

Barry has successfully managed to weave together a cynical look at media with an often touching romantic tale. It's constant twists and turns managed to keep me riveted from start to finish. I didn't even set the book down to brush my teeth, preferring to read while praying that I hadn't dribbled paste down my beard.

If you can find a copy at your local bookstore, buy it immediately. Printing ceased in mid December with no plans to resume. As for me, I'll be banging on store doors about this time next Friday to pick up his next novel, Jennifer Government. If it's half as entertaining as Syrup has been... Well, I guess I can look forward to at least one more sleepless night.

Covet Nothing

Posted 22 January 2003, 1.16 am by Shaggy

I try, for all that it matters. I try desperately to be a good person, to shed all the indecent things that I have thought, said, or done. In fact, I suppose I shelter myself a great deal to this end, not drinking, smoking, fucking, taking drugs, going out, or even entertaining myself further than writing, reading, working, and watching movies. Not that I do not encourage a friendly game of Playstation 2 to celebrate the return of school (and while I still have time).

Yet my cost has always caught up to me.

Things change. Feelings change. Emotions are ever elusive, waves up and down. Sometimes I feel like slicing my wrists. Other times I feel that there can be nothing greater than life.

I try.

My different waves of emotion are not, at least as far as I know, a result of manic depressive disorders, or any other form of neuroses, but the predisposition of this pit of earth: nothing stays the same, everything changes. The values a child holds are no mirror to those of the same adult. Even the beliefs change.

I am not sure what change has overcome me. I am not even terribly certain that I care. The only thing I can be of certain is the importance of a lie. I smile. I cheer. I attend school, and no one knows any different. Indeed, even in my most depressive of days, no one could tell. It is not in me to be an open book when it could be the most helpful. Rather, I lie, because I cannot be a burden to those I love and those I see everyday. How would that burden ever be killed?

Will those around me ever think I am sane, reformed, happy, if I tell them "I am deeply troubled and fear the nightmares that are a cause of my sorrow, which keep me from sleeping"? Can I tell anyone that is not a complete stranger, whose judgement I feareth not?

I have been everything from happy to sad on this site. The most I am in real life anymore is annoyed and ecstatic.

The strange thing is the cause: I fear my girlfriend of two years has seriously considered leaving me. This is ridiculous as a cause for all my sorrow. In fact, it is ridiculous as a consideration, not because my girlfriend would never leave me, or any other such cal, but because in the end, for better or worse, she is the last woman I will ever be with (this is a promise both to myself and to her). I love her, no matter what her decision, and she is, reciprocity potentially notwithstanding, my soulmate, my one and only.

I do not know what is more scary to me: the fact that she very well might leave me, or that I might very well be holding her back, might be taking from her something she wishes.

I guess I just am not certain about anything.

Ah, how the tides wash away the sandcastles. Perhaps tomorrow, she will tell me she will never leave me. Perhaps I will be happy continuously, smiling like some junkie.

Whatever the case, being beaten by the waves can get mighty annoying.


AKpCEP is back, and this time - it's personal...

Posted 22 January 2003, 1.06 am by Alexander

Well it's only been a week but it seems like longer. After 7 days in the wilderness, is back. New server, new hosts - site should be quicker, more stable and reliable. If it's not, please let me know.

Few things to tell you as we start up again. Firstly, check out the store. You'll notice the prices have plummeted considerably. I've decided to earn 0 commision on any of the items as it became clear to me you're only lining the pockets of the British banking system, and I'd rather more of you bought stuff and used it as a way of advertising the site. That way everyone wins - except Johnny Bank.

Another little gift from to you - we have 1000 email addresses to give away. Simply email me at, stating what email address you would like and which email you would like it to forward to. Then, when email is sent to, it gets instantly forwarded to your address. Great huh?

I'd like to thank you all for your patience over the site move, especially those of you who supplied funds and whatnot - every penny has gone back into the site running costs.

I also would like to see more user submissions to the front page - be it an article (on any topic you like), a review of something or a link to a funny, informative or inspirational website, I want you to share it. Click "submit article" in your User Console to the left (when logged in).

Lastly, I would like you to use the comments page linked below to tell me about any features or functionalities you DON'T see at that you think would be a good idea. I want to keep pushing forward and to make the most complete 'site fer interlekshuls' it can be.

I am not really Here

Posted 13 January 2003, 9.32 pm by Shaggy

I think therefore I am, Descartes

I am therefore I think, Marxism

Not that I really have an entire understanding of those concepts, nor did Karl Marx himself actually say "I am, therefore I think", though I think that it can be a synopsis of some of Marxist concepts. However, those two phrases, used to describe two of the most interesting philosophers, led me to ponder, whether justifiably so or not, the concept of reverse-solipsism. I am fairly confident when I say that there is probably a school of thought already devoted to the concepts I have come up with, but... well... in the spirit of the uneducated, I will just say, on my part, "ignorance is bliss" (not that I condone ignorance...)

I have often felt as if my life is being led by the hand, so to speak. Often, I wonder if the Naturalists are right in the theory that there is very little free will, that we are willo' the whisps, so to speak. I often wonder, if we have no free will, could you not substitute "random chance" very satisfactorily into the equation, and not be left with very much in terms of alteration? I mean, if it is not your choice, then it is fate. And since no one is a purist of fate anymore (forgive me for potentially being presumptuous), it can be said that life today is, for those who believe in fate, is 50% fate, 25% chance, 25% choice. "It isn't my choice," they say, and are doubted. If everything is completely random, then the choice of which random path, although completely arbitrary, is still free will. Simply because I am biased, does not make my opinion completely null in void.

However, I do not believe there can be such a thing as half-fate. I mean, really, either the state of existence is completely mapped out, by gods, seeds, aliens, clones, or whatever, or everything is completely random. How can there possibly be a middle-ground, a gray area to ponder upon?

I believe life is written. I believe in fate. And yet, I often wonder if I even exist. I feel as the spectator, the only character who does not truly exist in the great scheme. Not that I am a pessimist! This is no feeling of depression, or identity anxiety. Rather, it is a mere feeling that those around me control my paths, that those around me are filtering my character into a capsule, a tiny, well-placed and (hopefully) socially important capsule that can be taken into the machinations of the world, and form some function therein.

As I choose who interacts with my spectator-status, is my fate then free will, or is it a purist fate, one that is written and inevitable? If I choose two rocks, will I choose correctly, even though both rocks are completely arbitrary and useless?

Or will I steal someone elses rock?

And by the way, reports of my demise were grossly exaggerated. I am not dead yet, though many of you will be displeased to hear.

Food Culture

Posted 13 January 2003, 9.06 pm by Acheron

I'm sure we all have distinct recollections of our parents telling us to finish our meal. I know I can remember my parents scornfully telling me to shovel more eats down my gullet. How could I leave food uneaten when children in vague, far-off locations, usually Africa, never have enough to eat?!


Is it any surprise that the West's (read: North America) is a culture of overeating? Don't you remember being a child and feeling some serene sense of accomplishment - fullness - at finishing the whole meal?

"Wow, I'm truly an upstanding citizen today! I even ate the vegetables! I deserve a medal!"

True, I felt accomplished after some very silly tasks as a kid, but I can't shake the fact that my parents were somehow behind the pride I felt. Today, I still feel a little proud of myself whenever there's an empty plate in front of me. The best victories are those wars of attrition between me and my stomach, where I have to eat the food one piece at a time. I feel like Churchill thumbing his nose at the Germans:

"We shall go on to the end, we shall eat in France, we shall eat on the seas and oceans, we shall eat with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall eat on the beaches, we shall eat on the landing grounds, we shall eat in the fields and in the streets, we shall eat in the hills; we shall never surrender, and even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this Island or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our Empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the British Fleet, would carry on the struggle, until, in God's good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old."

You've probably guessed where I'm going with this argument, because here it loses all coherency and branches off in a thousand directions, not stopping until I've ranted about everything from those filthy bastards who make generic brand soda crackers; to Big Daddy Bush and his mendacious quest for oil.

Face it - we're fatties, and our (my?) eating habits are wholly unhealthy. Not only do we overindulge ourselves at every sitting - on the wrong food at that; but we subjugate our appetites to the oddest schedules imaginable. Just how healthy can it be to eat three gigantic meals oddly spaced throughout the day?

It might be an odd approach, but if people want to curb Western over-consumption (you know, that whole "armageddon"/"human extinction" bit) perhaps we should start with... consumption?

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Doggybag/baggy_dog is an artist living and working in Barga, Italy. Click here to read about this piece in his own words.

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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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