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You just do those things.

Posted 25 November 2002, 10.06 pm by Sickan

You never stop hurting me, do you?
You never really stop loving to walk all over me?
You cant help yourself, its just something you have to do.
There is nothing wrong with that, I'm just sorry that I have to be the one taking all the crap from you. Have I ever done anything to hurt you - is this payback of some sort?
Can I improve and thereby make you stop.
I hate it. Oh, my god I hate you.

I have never left your side, I think and hope I have always been there to help you guide through life, even though it is supposed to be you doing that for me. But we are different - oh so fucking different. Once I was proud of this, now I am ashamed.

What do I have to do to make you understand that I don’t want to be a part of this anymore? I cant just tell you - I wont hurt you like you hurt me. You hurt me because of who you are and what you do to yourself. You had a pretty life once. But you decided to throw it all away, and some day to will throw me away as well. I cant stand this any more , but this I have been telling myself for so many years now. And I keep on helping, suffering, bleeding and crying with and for you.

When I fucked up - as young people sometimes do, you looked away, said you didn’t want me to contact you. Said I was nothing to you. I was pretty messed up in my head over this - but when you needed my help because you had been in trouble you called me - fucking me. You knew I would always be there for you and this time was no different. I hurried to get to you and make everything go away and take it on me.

And even as I write this I know that you only have to tell me where it hurts and I'll make it stop. I hate you for being like this, and I hate myself because I let you create me this way.

Peace

Interesting....

Posted 25 November 2002, 5.28 pm by Craig


Read this short article. Will interest everyone I think.

Visit Site.

Sure.

Posted 25 November 2002, 12.54 pm by Jake

Mike picked up the rat by the tail and looked at it disdainfully.
With a snap of his wrist, he tossed it into the glass case.
The snake lifted its head and turned to the direction of its prey. A second passed. Its tongue flicked in and out rapidly as it picked up the scent of the rat.
He heard the sickening thunk and a rustling of wood chips as the boa snatched its prey in its mouth and began to wrap itself around the rat.

Mike turned back to his friend. “Man, I still can’t believe that stupid bitch did that. God, I’m so fucking mad I could kill her and David both.”
His friend glanced at him and softly said; “Well, dude, you don’t need to act with discretion in this case. It’s all her fault anyways. His too, but she could have resisted and remained faithful.”
“No, man, forget that. It’s all said and done, anyways.”
He tried to look his strongest, even though he wanted to explode with rage, cry in shame, wallow in his self-doubt.
“You know, I really don’t know what she sees in him anyways. He’s a total fucking loser with a good job and a nice car.”
“No, no, he’s a total fucking loser asshole with a good job and a nice car.”
“Point taken.”
He turned back to the cage and watched the boa work its way over the rat’s head.
“All this time I worried about what I wanted. I worked so hard to secure things for myself, and in doing that I ignored what she needed. I just…man, I don’t know anymore.”

He tried to ignore the hot tears that were starting to well up in his eyes. He stood up, wiped his hands on his pants, and lit a cigarette. His friend eyed him warily from the couch. “So, what are you going to do? She’s got half of your shit.”
“I don’t know that, either.”
“Well, you need to figure out something. Nothing against you, but I can’t stay here all day waiting on you to make a fuckin’ decision.” He grinned and poked Mike in the ribs.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just….I need some time to myself.”
“Sure thing, man. Just give me a call whenever you get your ducks in a row. I gotta get to work.”
Mike nodded, and slapped his friend on the back.
“Thanks for listening. It always helps to have someone lend an ear.”
“Hey, that’s what friends are for.”
“Yeah. Take it easy and don’t work too hard.” Mike’s friend stepped outside, shutting the door. Mike sat there, in the glow of the heat lamp, watching the snake finish the last bit of the rat.

He got up and walked to the kitchen, pitching his cigarette butt into the sink. It extinguished itself with a slow hissing sound. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and stood there for a minute, looking out his window onto the street below. He sighed, and opened a drawer by his left hand. Withdrawing a bottle of pills, he popped the top and ate five of the little blue footballs. He tossed them down his throat and chased it with the glass of whiskey. The burning sensation rolling down his throat, into his stomach, calmed him. He sighed again, and poured another glass of whiskey, two times more than the next. He downed half of it in one gulp and shuddered from the taste. He refilled it, and walked to the bathroom.
He filled the bathtub and sat listlessly in the hot, steaming water for a while.

Evil Clown Generator!

Posted 24 November 2002, 3.26 pm by Craig


Visit Site.

A Continuing Monologue

Posted 21 November 2002, 2.55 pm by Shaggy


Daron: So where does Truth emerge? I have read so very much about this thing called “Truth”, and yet it seems so very far away, as if it fell into a bottomless pit. Even Christian purity cannot find this Truth, for in the beginning, humans were ignorant. Knowledge is godly and, in our hubris, humans ate of the tree of knowledge in order to be like unto God, and can now have shame.

I have not seen humanity. It is a veiled creature, and deep down in my pit, I am unconcerned but only curious. I have not seen; I have not tasted of this thing called humanity. I have grown up alone, left alone in this dank pit; I have been left alone to my own ingenuity. I am not much more than an animal, not knowing and completely ignorant of the concept of time. I do not even know if I am mortal, or birthed of gods, for I do not even recall my parents.

Was I birthed or simply dreamed?

I do not have any sense of beginning. I am merely trapped in existing, in the middle. I am not sure of my purpose, for without a beginning, I have no end. What is this thing I read, called “existence?” Humans hold such importance to it, for they even have devoted an entire school of thought to this one abstract. Is it consciousness that creates reality, or does reality and existence create consciousness?

Is god within or without?

I once had a dream, that I was a part of the human race. According to this dream, I once had a heart as beautiful as any that could be imagined. I was hopeful, I could love, and I could create. I had flesh and feeling, family and friends. In this dream, I was presented with the abstract of emotions that humans associated with death.

There are so many abstracts tied to both life and death themselves. Much of the human condition can be summed up as excuses to live and reasons to avoid death. Loss, love… all of it is foreign to me, and yet within this dream, I had in my hand all these.

I had connection, somehow. I could feel something for someone else, and yet she was being taken away from me. The sickening tone the clock above her hospital bed made, ticking away and beating its fist against time, is still within my memory. I remember struggling, hoping to find the answer to a question that I regret I cannot remember. She looked at me, and then life fled from her body.

I wake up disturbed. The connection that I feel in dreams confuses me. I cannot quite describe it, and the complex emotional abstracts disappear as my eyes open. At these times, I feel very close to deciphering what these things I read actually mean, to what they pertain.

However, I digress. Perhaps it is, ultimately, folly to understand Truth. Plato states that only in that existence before life can we truly know and understand the Truth. If this is true, than it is man’s ultimate end to return to this world of the Truth, the world of the Real rather than mimesis.

Perhaps, and this thought scares me, but perhaps I must shed my privacy, and step out into the outside world, and see these humans with my own eyes. Perhaps then, I can converse with them, understand what it is that they mean in their writings.

One of my concerns is that these creatures, caught up in their own ends, might not take any heed to my inquiries. After all, human existence is so very futile and busy, though I can never quite decipher what they are busy doing.

I tried once, to venture out of my shelter. I did so at night, crawling up out of this temple that I have always lived in...

Xylophone

Posted 20 November 2002, 2.59 pm by Craig


This is Great!!

Visit Site.

A different look

Posted 18 November 2002, 7.48 pm by Firebrand

stumbled across this doing some research.

Body Ritual Among the Nacirema

Contempt Breeds Familiarity?

Posted 18 November 2002, 7.06 pm by noctornus

I've been sitting in class all day, and I was suddenly hit by an epiphany! I think that it's the sort of realization that everybody has, at some point, often without even knowing that they've realized it. It is taken more as common knowledge, or fact, than as a revelation. It's based on the concept that Familiarity Breeds Contempt.

What is the one thing that everybody, at some time realizes? That they hate their life/job/home/whatever. After a period of time, no matter how much we love something, or love doing something (or somebody for that matter) we begin looking past the fun, the joy, and the enjoyment we get from that activity, and we begin to search out all that is unjust, out of place, or just plain wrong about our surroundings. As much as I was overjoyed to start school again this year, to turn a fresh page in my book of life, I now view it with complete and total contempt. My last two jobs, as much as I loved them when I began, I hated after a few months, and by the end of my shift, you couldn't have kept me there for any reason.

Without a doubt, it is the staleness that comes over our lives when we do not have the opportunity, or desire to try new things, which breeds so much unhappyness. There is not a single member of the akpcep community, who can honestly say that they are happy with everything about themselves, and their surroundings. To do so, is to dilute yourself. There is always something that we despise, and it's usually something that we've been surrounded by for a long time. Almost everybody loves a new school when they start, or enjoy a new job, because it is something fresh, something new, and even though a million other people may be doing the exact same thing as you are, what you are doing is Unique.

I've spent more than enough time in my life, staring at a clock, watching the seconds tick by, hoping that, if I stare a little harder, that second hand will move faster, if even just a tiny bit. I've waited to leave work, school, an appointment of some kind, something. I'm positive that we all have. Really, I'm getting tired of it, tired of watching the clock, trying and hoping that an unpleasant situation will end sooner. I've spent so much time in that place in life, that I've come to despise it. So as a solution, I've resigned myself to stop watching the clock, to stop hoping that an unpleasant situation will end sooner, rather than later. I'm going to start living my life, for what it is, a collection of moments, some pleasant, some not. Wallowing in the moments that bring me pain, or complete and utter boredom are getting my nowhere fast, except possibly into a mental institution.

So I call upon you all, to stop hoping that bad things end sooner, and to stop wallowing in our contempt of your lives, and to breathe a sigh of relief, and say 'Fuck It! I'll be out of this place soon enough, and it's not worth my effort to worry about how much I hate it.' Sometimes it's not possible to escape these situations, no matter how much we may want to, we just have to make the best of them.

-Noctornus

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This is in response to the poem 'Business Girls' by John Betjeman. It's ink washes. I was attempting to depict the grime and toil of the subject matter by using a widely recognised symbol of business life - the train.


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Props to Green Mamba for bringing the weirdness

Hmph

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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