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here I am
waiting
waiting for my life
you’ve bought your freedom
as I’ve toiled for mine
you were just too good to stay behind
and as I sit now, thinking
of the way things could have been and
how they should be
while you’re living your life
one fast moment to the next
one slow lover to the next
one restless day to the next
and you are dying
think of me
ah, god, remember the times?
when we ran like children in the summer sun
oblivious to the big, frightening world outside
and now that we’re all grown and older
we ignore that which we lived upon
and work the rest of our jaded days
for nothing,
ah, sweet nothing
it's all we need
to be complete
it's nothing

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YES. The net offeres EVERYTHING! This service will set up a "chance meeting" with you and the object of your desire...ie., get you started on that stalking career.

Coincidence Design

Prefer to obtain your stalkers via on-line profiles you create yourself? Been to Makeoutclub and have too many restraining orders against you? Why not start anew?

Lipstick and Cigarettes - or LnC for those in the know

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Cheeky young grinder Booger was kind enough to send me this link, which is full of really quite classy flash games:

www.candystand.com

Aside from some heavy sponsorship by candy firms, it's all in all good fun. I was quite insulted by his inference that I actually HAVE spare time though. He will pay. Oh yes.

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First off, I guess I should make a formal apology for disappearing into a great, grand void. I apologize. That said, here's my post:

I realize I'm hiding. In fact, shaking like some weakling under the foot of a giant. Perhaps I am, under the foot of some giant that is.

Somehow, a thick melancholy spreads over me like a blanket. In my younger days, I used to float toward this blanket for warmth, for comfort. It was my escape, something that was my personal charicature. For whatever reason I flocked to it, I have become broken by it.

It haunts me.

Difficulties are spreading over my life. I am faced by the growing fact that the internet has begun spreading a different type of pornography: that of death. Out of fear and curiosity, I typed in "snuff" in a search field of a file-sharing program, and to my horror received 10 hits. A wave of pain and horror flew over me, and I thought I would crumble under the weight of my own skin. My heart lept into my throat and I started to shake. I knew that there was such a monstrous thing on the internet, my friends had previously told me. But I somehow refused to believe that murder was still being filmed, as if the populace wanted to get as close to it as they could while still remaining alive under its knife.

Something turns in me. Instead of a fear, a disgust is born. My teeth clench, my eyes turn to slits, and I bring my head up to the sky. I am a man, I have two hands, two feet and a mind. As long as I live, I will fight this thing called "murder."

I love life so much that it hurts when even someone I do not know is thrown away. I know september 11th is already over-emphasized, but it was the first monstrosity that occured in my new maturity. It was not only an insult to the families, it was an insult to me personally. Every murder is the Devil, making fun of me. Proving that I am insignificant.

Well, no more. I hold my head up high, and am prepared for anything that evil wants to throw at me.

Do not underestimate the power that I have. I am young, and my words will be heard. I am the biggest danger to those who would harm: I am a stubborn writer who will except nothing but to live in a world where I can live; I am a human being; and I am still in love.

The Devil has taunted me many times before. He has tried to discourage me through the hands and fists of others. I will not rest, I will not sleep. I will not turn my back away from those I know and love, I will face the Devil.

I believe in something better.

It is sad, but I would rather the whore of pornography. At least the whore is representative of pleasure and lust, not anger, violence and hatred. She is unavoidable, as we are bombarded by the whore when we open most magazines, when we turn on most television programs. However, the whore of blood can be avoided.

I turn my back on the whore of blood, and stare the murderer in the eyes. He has been in my dreams.

I spit in his face.

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I’m dying inside.
Not physically, but men-tal-ly.
Too many things going awry in my life, too much #@$131/confusion!452*&^
I’ve been wasting all of my time trying to keep things in order
And put that which has c r um ble d back together.
Too much time accommodating others
and not enough time to dream,
to myself
All this static makes me want to scream, SHOUT, destroy things,
put a brick through the plate-glass windows of the school
burn all of my money, beat the shit out of all of my old friends
take a sledgehammer to
the new Mercedes Benzes that I’ll never want to own
get raving drunk and piss on the Capitol building
{curse behind the old ladies at church}
kick the fuck out of whiny kids crying about useless bullshit (wait, what?)
smoke pot in a local restaurant and stick my
-fingers up the teenage waitress’s skirt-
lead
the
police
on a 2 hour-long car chase
and meet my own demise by driving off of a



cliff.

I can be my own God.

At your service, anyway.

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Soo as you all know I moved to my mothers home some what a month ago. And it was great, well it still is - but now I am going to change all that.
Yeah, I'm going to move once again. I need to go and stay at my best-friends house in an university-city, where I am going to study next year.

So I ask myself why I am such a restless person. I mean I like to move (not all the packing and stuff) but the simple concept of moving. First I thought that I moved to my mothers house, because the people back home were bugging me, like I had an extremely low level of tolerance towards them, which I don’t like, and therefore I wanted to get some space. Resent events has just proved me wrong. Well I love my friends and never should they doubt about that.
But sometimes rumors are far worse than slamming stuff in peoples heads, you know? I have lost a friend because of something he had heard someone said I've said and so on and so on... well I have no idea of what I have said that could make him that mad at me. Oh well a little sidestep here...

I don’t know what made me write this topic, but hey I guess I just want to tell people here, that sometimes circumstances makes us make, to others, weird decisions concerning their own bloody lives.

I sometimes wish that I didn’t had to ‘answer’ to my ‘people’ you know?? Like why I am moving, why I tend to do some things that look idiotic in others eyes… Well there is a simple answer to all that – I have my reasons, and sometimes I do not have the urge to tell others about them. I really don’t. I don’t have to explain myself to others, well okay, I have to if it is something concerning their lives – but still, I have to do what I have to do! I do not do stuff just to make problems… sometimes I feel that people I love and loves me forget that.

There is nothing wrong with my friends and family – I mean, they can ask me to do anything for them and I’ll probably do it, and they can ask me stuff that some would say is non of their business and I’ll gladly answer them. But when I put my foot down and refuse to tell them my reasons and explain why I do certain things, they just freak.

Anyway, now I’m done! Heh, well I hope that I haven’t done anything wrong and said something that make people IRL freak, if so… fuck off… I’m sorry, but that’s it… realize this, I have not changed, I am still the same person you know – but I have just realized that I cannot live all my life satisfying others needs and suddenly one morning wake up and look at myself in the mirror and see that I cant see who I am. I will not forget myself.

Now, some people would say that I overreact, too bad. This is how I feel and this is where I stand. I guess we all have to be honest and put our feet to the ground. This is how I have done it. Now you all know.

-Peace.

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I've been working a lot lately. Too much, actually. In fact, I was supposed to be at the office today. Sunday. I'm not going. I woke up this morning mumbling about reports that had to be done...projects that are due...and then I looked at my surroundings.

The cats have torn up an entire "economy" size package of toilet paper. It looks like it snowed in my house. I'd take a picture to show you, but my camera is at the office. My trash can is out on the back porch - that's as far as I got with it. How busy can I be that I can't even make it out to the dumpster? I'm not even going to tell you what state my laundry is in. Let's just say that I've never had more room in my closet.

Friday, as I was driving to work, the phrase "sitting bitch" popped into my head. I don't know if the term "sitting bitch" is a uniquely American concept or not. For as long as I can remember, people have said "who's gonna sit bitch" when talking about getting into a car, front seat or back - when referring to the "middle" spot.

I realized, after 33 years on this planet, that the term refers to the fact that the spot next to the driver was traditionally where the "girlfriend" or "bitch" sat. I'm not sure what the heck I thought it referred to before, or why I never even bothered to think about it further. It remained a term I've heard and used myself, without even knowing the absolute meaning.

I wish I could have seen the look on my face, because I bet it was the same look my third grade teacher saw when I finally grasped the concept of long division.

I think today is a good day to not work.

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