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Posted 12 October 2002, 8.20 pm by The_Roach

nigger: The Strange Career of a Troublesome Word
Randall Kennedy
Pantheon Books, 2002

Never in American history has a word had such persistant impact as nigger. From popular culture to the courtroom, this book examines the trials and tribulations of what's considered by many to be the filthiest ever spoken and discusses the various problems that may yet come from it.

At many points in my reading, I couldn't help but wonder at who the book was written for. Kennedy frequently takes a condescending tone when it comes to reminding the reader of recent events and personalities. On thw whole, though, it's still fairly pleasant. The author makes every attempt to show the issues at hand with the careful balance of a plate spinner, and his bias is only seen in a few of the more grey area circumstances.

Overall, it's a very quick, easy, and fairly informative read. I think that everybody should have a copy of this book, if only to serve on a silver platter to the next person who attempts to utilize the word in a hate-fueled, disrespectful manner. On second thought, they probably wouldn't read it either. At the very least, it's brilliant for it's irony; A man named Kennedy using the word over 300 times may even make it worth a second pass.

So cute!

Posted 12 October 2002, 7.23 pm by Craig

Check out this cool flash movie!! Really cool...

Visit Site.

Make sure the sound is up or you won't hear anything!


Posted 12 October 2002, 7.12 pm by Craig

mmmm... erotic cakes!.


Posted 12 October 2002, 11.19 am by Berly

Here it is, proof that I'm far too easily amused.

This thing...this DIRK is a glob of interconnectedness....or something. I'm still playing with it.

DIRK you!

Paradise lost

Posted 11 October 2002, 11.52 pm by firebrand

Vill's post reminded me of this. I suppose this is yet another entry in my current obsession with memories and other girly-type “feelings and shit.”

I don’t even remember what being in love is like.

It used to swamp my days – I’d lose whole hours wrapped up in that cocoon. Vague memories of couches and blankets, foot massages and hot cocoa swim out occasionally. I can remember the moments. I can’t remember the feelings. I can’t remember what it was like at all.

Have I blocked it out because the boy I thought I loved was just that – nothing more than a boy, confused in his own desires? Or has it just been so long since someone has inspired me thus that those emotions have slipped away like an atrophied muscle?

How does one remember an emotion? If I think about an apple, I can remember its colors and its smells and its tastes. If I think about a feeling, I can’t make myself experience it. Sometimes a smell or a taste or a color will bring that feeling up though. It’s an enigma.

Of course, then comes the question: Does one really want to remember being in love with someone who is no longer available? Or even if available, someone you wouldn’t want to return to? I think the answer is clearly and firmly “No.” Otherwise, we would just be spending our time pining over something we can’t recreate.

Where Art Thou, Love?

Posted 11 October 2002, 8.45 pm by Villager

A couple of months ago, few would have believed in the idea of love and its virtues more than me. I believed in what I had and what it meant as an intrinsic part of my life. Recent events have rather changed not only circumstance, but the way I think about love and its value. The disruption caused recently has left me disillusioned, more than anything. I am not so irrational as to denounce love outright and never allow myself to become vulnerable again, and if nothing else these past months have taught me to expect to be proven wrong, but what I feel and my shifting perspective has led me to analyse one particular aspect: if I, one who rationally and truly believed in the strength and endurance of love, can be changed, and believe myself to have been, then what of the love I thought I had? Does it change, disappear, or remain unaffected?

I still feel much of what I felt months ago. Many of the same emotions. But one thing has changed. I now believe love to be an essentially peripheral part of life, rather than a central factor. Life must be taken alone. If I am lucky enough to spend it with one with whom I can consider myself "in love" then I will likely live a more fulfilling life because of it, but I can no longer depend upon the feeling generated inside my heart in the name of love. It was enough to live off, but unfortunately it becomes too much to let go. And that is why it must be controlled, just like any other emotion. Just like hate, anger, animal instincts which we accept need to be controlled for a balanced society. My love has little bearing upon society, but the instinct must not be allowed to control me.

I was at my happiest when in the throes of love, but at my lowest point when that was torn from me. And that is why it cannot be. I cannot live my life like that. I now understand - no, I have always understood it, I now believe it to have value - what is meant by the idea that we do not fall in love, but with the concept of being in love. Was I in love? I believe so still, but I was also in love with the concept so as to lose my independence emotionally. And that is where it all went wrong. When in love one cannot see outside the box; when out of love, one cannot see back in. I can not and will not return to that particular box. I am not 'happy' alone, but I seem to have accepted within myself that I have always been alone, only now do I miss the company of love which led between me and my own emotional frailties. I thought I was the happiest man alive, when really I was the luckiest.

Luck changed.


Posted 10 October 2002, 10.32 pm by Acheron

The intro is a bit long, but man... I don't even know how to finish this sentence.

Don't click here.


Posted 9 October 2002, 2.46 am by Jake

~It's my first try at something semi-serious as opposed to short stories. Crucify me if you don't fucking like it~

What exactly are you staring at? Am I not supposed to try and be
-You looking at me-
-me reading Kafka-
-you wondering what I'm doing there-

As if I'm not supposed to have ambitions and ideas? Is my place in the great goddamned hierarchy of society not worthy of opening a book? Questioning our existence?

Jack London wrote of the education/acculturation of a young man named Martin Eden. Martin began as a sailor, a "work-beast", with many of his experiences notched onto his belt and a burning inclination to better himself. With the help of various people, he became a well-seasoned writer and intellectual (even so far as giving public speeches on Socialism). All his life he had pined for things that were just out of his reach. Upon finding them out of his reach, he stretched himself further in order to attain what was most treasured.

With that analysis out of the way, should people really have an innate desire for self-improvement? Is it worth it for a person "of the abyss"(to allude to London yet again) to strive for something better? To look at their daily life and ask, "Is this it?" Many people would agree with me when I say "Yes, it is a worthy cause, mainly because it gives people incentive to change their lives....and in essence, change the lives of others."

Where I'm trying to go with this, is that nobody should be stereotyped and dismissed as useless just because of their place in our modern dog-eat-dog society. That can be attributed to the tried and true maxim "Expect the unexpected". Nobody should rely on predisposed notions, because you could be easily caught off-guard.

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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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