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Time For A Change...

Posted 23 May 2002, 7.23 am by The_Roach

This is a post that I originally had up here a few weeks ago. Due to some confidentiality issues, I was asked to remove it until this time. I apologize for anyone who has to read it twice - Roach

Let me tell you a few things about my roommate. He has no sense of smell which, I suppose, limits his enjoyment of food somewhat. He's never noticed it as he was born with the disability. On the flip side of that, he has no idea when he smells. Try standing in the same room with the bastard immediately after he removes his shoes. Go ahead, try it. You'll be hard pressed not to cry out in agony as the flesh on the inside of your nose melts away.

He's extremely religious, almost to the point of being a zealot. He'll drive across town on Sunday to go to the one church he likes, then spends the entire day there. When he was growing up, he'd melt down the chocolate bunny that found it's way into his Easter basket and mold it into the shape of a cross. He turns away children who show up trick-or-treating on Halloween, telling them to come back for All Saint's Day and he'd give them a halo (donut). The power of Christ compels him in every regard, and the stories of the bible are (pardon the pun) gospel.

He owns five, count 'em, five VCRs. He watches no less than 100 hours of television a week, fast-forwarding through the commercials and laughing uproariously at sitcoms. His indulgence of mass media doesn't stop there, though. He has no room to place clothing in his closet because it's filled to the brim with his comic book collection. Even so, he's had to store an additional thirty boxes of comics in his father's garage and spends no less than $200 a month acquiring new ones. In addition, he sees nearly every motion picture that is released in theatres and frequently buys them on DVD once released in that format (some times multiple times if a new special edition is released).

He has nearly every character trait I despise. He's self-righteous, arrogant and terminally polite. He doesn't believe in the concept of "dating" because he thinks about things in the "long term". As a result of this (and other factors), he's almost thirty years of age, and he's never kissed a girl. More important, however, is that he has that one trait that irritates me more than any other. For all his faults, he's a much better person than I could hope to be.

A few hours ago, he informed me that he would be taking a promotion that would move him to another city here. I knew he'd been considering (read: praying on) it for a couple of days now, and I encouraged him. If there's one thing he and I have in common, it's an extreme hatred of change. The problem with hating change, though, is that it doesn't allow us to develop as people. We stagnate, go through the daily grind and wind up with no real history, no things we can look back upon for better or for worse. So, when he told me about the opportunity, I whole-heartedly wanted him to go. Perhaps there he'll be forced to meet some new people, maybe meet a nice girl he can settle down with (although, he's pretty settled already).

Honestly, I never expected him to go through with it.

Now, I'm faced with some difficult issues of my own. I have to find a new roommate, pray that the leasing company who runs my apartment complex will allow the lease to be transferred either in whole to me, or partially to the new person (whoever that is). I'm going to have to adjust to a new living situation of my own, help one guy move out and another in. Did I mention how much I really fucking hate change?

I'm sitting here, smoking a cigarette and looking forward to having my traditional post-writing vodka. Thinking back, I have difficulty remembering much that was truly significant in the last year and odd months that he and I have been living together. I've met some interesting people and done some interesting things. No doubt he's done things that he can conjure up in the history there. The problem is, he doesn't really fit into any of my memories from this period in my life, other than that he was there for it. There, on the sidelines, casting disapproving glances or laughing as I stumble through existence. For somebody who never really involved himself in my life, I'm really going to miss him.

Drewcifer, this one's for you.

Emotional Dilemma

Posted 22 May 2002, 1.43 am by Jake

It's happening. The worst thing that could ever have occurred. My grandfather is dying. This phenomena wouldn't affect me so deeply if he wasn't such an important figure in my life. I always kept in close touch with him in spite of the shortcomings of my parents.

Will Harold was born in a small Central Texas farming town, went to the local school, and shipped off to the U.S. Armed Forces like a majority of his peers. He served in the Marines, was a champion lightweight boxer in his division, flew in WWII and Korea, in between which he also went to Texas A&M University. He retired in the '60's as a Lieutenant Colonel and carried on a career as a carpenter/remodeler.

Whenever I needed his help or merely wanted to talk to a decent family member, he was always there. I often remember him as a tall, strapping, friendly man who was always reading, farming or working on houses. He always took time to give a kind word to anyone and everyone.

Now he has had a defibrillator installed (no thanks to arrhythmia)in his heart, and has to go in almost daily for radiation treatment. The doctors say that the cancer is spreading, and he is becoming weaker as the weeks pass. He sleeps roughly 14 hours a day, and the medication that he takes is causing his body to go haywire. On certain days, he has to take fluid pills to counteract side effects of the radiation, and he urinates sporadically without warning. He rarely eats. He's aware of the fact that he's dying, and he bravely accepts his fate.

However, it tears me to pieces to see the role model that I have always known as brimming with vitality and knowledge have to degenerate into a withered husk of an old man.

The only good thing that I am getting out of this is that my mom has realized her duties as a responsible daughter and has become more assertive. We're patching up our differences to deal with this horrid event.

I hope I die before I get old.


Posted 21 May 2002, 7.56 am by Alexander

I've been working on a theory of equivalence recently - it's like my next big thing. It's still in the formulating stage, but hear me out.

The basic premise is that life and people and the world is basically a big fractal. If you're not familiar, a fractal is a form or pattern that repeats, and no matter at what scale you view it, it always has the same structure. Good examples in nature are trees, and clouds. Man made examples include the mandelbrot set - look it up.

Given that this is a natural phenomenon, it's not beyond the realms of possibility that it applies to human life and society as well. I got thinking about this when I first started touring the UK with AKp - every town has an equivalent mid-sized venue, and every town has a mid-sized band that currently rule the roost, every town has an entrepeneuring type who is badmouthed, and every town has a little free rag that serves to deal out gossip and local opinion on the 'big' news on the live music scene.

This 'equivalence' can be extended infinitely, as far as I can tell. Try applying it to any social group or construct. Every website has a clown, a wise old sage, and an annoying kid. Internet debates always follow the same routes regardless of topic and participants. Even on a personal level, in every town (and the important thing is that the scale of the sample is not important - as long as every other 'cell' in the fractal is of equivalent size) there must be an Alexander King, who shares enough common traits with myself as to separate himself from the other twenty-odd musician/artists.

Now, if you accept or can imagine that the planet is comprised of a multitude of individual 'cells' defined only by the fact that they are all of equivalent dimensions, it's not too much of a leap to imagine that by paring down to just one of these cells, you can get the essence of humanity in a confined space. Of course, this can never work without knowing the size of the cell, and because it's a fractal-like construct, as soon as you separate what you think to be the 'template' cell, you discover that particular cell is itself made up of other units - take a town, you discover it's full of households, take a household, it's full of individual people, etc.

Then of course, you can take it to the other extreme, and explode this theory to postulate that the earth is one 'cell' of the fractal, that this is the basest level of life, the building block, and that it's just one distant end of a huge mandelbrot set, comprising an infinite number of cell units, each of which is comprised of an infinite number of cell units and so on.

So .. think about equivalence. How many equivalents of you exist? What parameters would define an equivalent of you in the next town, the next country, the next planet?

Hm ..

Kids can be so... weird.

Posted 20 May 2002, 6.54 pm by Alexander

I've been reading this site for a good hour or so now - it's marvellous. A list of playground taunts, phrases and tortures that evoke such bitter, painful memories... not that I was ever picked on at school of course.

I think it's mainly applicable to British kids, but it should prove a telling insight for akpcep's international audience into why we British grow up to be so strange...

Click Here

dare me.

Posted 18 May 2002, 1.09 pm by Villager

It is taken as something of a Norm that the individual is subject to a number and range of restrictions and rules, of laws and their enforcement. One could argue quite reasonably that these restrictions are entirely necessary, just, and fair to maintain a healthy society where all have the opportunity to prosper. Where all are more or less equal and can without undue interruption endeavour to work in a field which fulfils personal needs. A cynic (let us not worry too much about classification for the moment), might take the equally justifiable standpoint and argue that on the contrary, our systems of society and Government are, by design, there to maintain a divide between those who Are, and those who Are Not. Those who can indulge there personal whims with the resources they are permitted, and those who cannot hope to attain such leisure. The rich and the poor. The mainstream and those who either reject it or cannot thrive in it.

It would be a basic divide, as you would have those who fall in the nether regions, those that have a reasonable lifestyle yet feel controlled. Those who get by comfortably enough, but never really feel alive. The mid sections. The battery hens, some might say. Is it right to keep beings controlled for a single purpose? With basic freedoms granted, but ones which are oft heavily diluted by material deficits, and sweetened by drip-fed stimuli. Alcohol, nightclubs, sport, cinema. Etc.

Society is not intrinsically a bad thing. Given the density of Earth's populations, it is inevitable. It is requisite if we want modern amenities, respect and protection from the outside world, and indeed elements within that society. It probably even gives the individual a strong quality of life in many cases. It is the natural consequence of Collective Existence. But that doesn’t make it right. It is still oppressive. Our natural instincts are not allowed to express themselves naturally, heavily driven to conform to something resembling a satisfactory citizen. This may well be driven by the best of intentions on the part of the individuals who effect such things, and may superficially maintain the peace and delicate equilibrium in which we live. But it still has a fundamentally negative impact on the physical and mental development of the individual whom laws and government design to regulate.

I should not be sat here typing my complaints and observations into an electrical machine. It is symbolic that this is my most accessible means of doing so. I cannot live the life I would want. It is a physical impossibility born of a confusion between accustomed life and desire for a honest and simple life, free from the invisible pressures of business and systems. Society serves, whether by explicit design or sad misfortune, to destroy the human being in each innocent child. I proffer no realistic alternative, I have neither the imagination nor intelligence to see how we can free ourselves. Maybe that is because we cannot, maybe it is because it would require a lifetime of working against the tide which brought us into this world.

Are you free?

Dispatch - Bang Bang

Posted 15 May 2002, 8.08 pm by Acheron

When I mention Dispatch to my friends here out west, I inevitably get the response, "never heard of 'em." Their responses are justified: Dispatch never plays out west, let alone in Canada, they aren't signed with a major label, and they do not get any radio/TV airtime. In a way, I'm almost sadistically glad, because I get to be the one to uncork my "little secret", a band so good that I still scratch my head to wonder why they aren't being played over and over and over... on every radio across the continent. The band is literally that good: a tight rhythm section, talented guitar playing, catchy harmony, and songs that can only be described as, erm, sublime all make this band my current favourite.

While I urge you to sprint to your local record store and pick up all of their albums, Bang Bang is probably their best, if for no other reason than the song, "The General." That one song alone is worth the cost of the album. Go buy it now!

Thoughts of Pain

Posted 14 May 2002, 9.09 pm by Sickan

I wrote this shortstory some time ago... its a bit harsh - so if you have a gentle heart then I would advise not to read it...

No no, oh my God, stop it hurts!!! Please stop I'll do anything just make the pain go away!!!
She cried – but she already knew how this story would end. There was no one there to come and rescue her – no guardian angel.
She could feel his smile behind her, those big white teeth that shined in the dimmed light from the moon outside that stable, the crows creaming to the moon to let the dead rise again, to get their revenge.
She noticed the well-known pain in her wrists and looked up at her arms, they were put up in an awkward position, they hang over her, strapped up in ropes, a little cloth was put around her skin to protect it from the ropes, so that they wouldn't make any marks.
She could feel him breathe in her neck, he said something – but she couldn’t hear it, maybe she wouldn’t, or maybe she already knew what he said, but it didn’t matter. Nothing did when she was here.
A little whistling sound of leather in a glove and the horrible pain on her back, like a thousand daggers – her eyes blackened. Again and again the pain returned but she stopped noticing it – she had grown accustomed to this – all these endless nights with this sick man.
The wet blankets wrapped around her little body had the same purpose as the cloths on her wrists, not even the whip left marks on her back when they were there.
She could feel his cold and sweaty hands on her legs, feel his warm breath in the icy air. She stated to cry, and he probably said; not to be scared, this wouldn’t hurt her, but she knew otherwise.
Suddenly she could see her own body, that tiny nine-year-old girl hanging helpless from two ropes in an old stable in the middle of the winter, the little body was naked and the skin so very pale and fragile, it shook from the cold and from the helpless crying. She flew higher and higher up – trough the roof of the building and…
Her eyes hurt a bit when she first opened them, again she was in her bed. The sun stood naked on the winter sky. She sat up in the bed, looking at her dirty feet, and remembered last night. She bet her lip hard and felt the warm blood in her mouth. The feet were small and looked so pale on the dark wooden floor. Her room was neat and clean, nothing was out of order here, only her clothes was destroying the perfect picture, it was heaped up by the chair.
She could hear her mother waling around in the kitchen, could recognize her steps and the sound her feet made on the floor. The little girl stood up and realized that she had her underwear on again, had it all just been a dream, but she already knew the answer to this question she had asked so many times before. She walked to the mirror and looked at her back, there was nothing to see, the only evidence he left was the pain. It knocked on the door, and then it was open. Her mother stood in the doorway. “What are you doing, what are you doing standing there almost naked in this cold. God its cold inhere, did you sleep with the window open or something?” Danielle nodded and looked away, trying to hide her pain. Her mother walked to the chair and picked up the clothes. She looked at Danielle's feet. “What the hell… what have you been doing? Out running again in the middle of the night with no shoes on?” She looked at her daughter and shook her head. She winked Danielle to her and hugged her, whispered something in her ear and began dressing her.
Later on when she had had her breakfast she went to the stable, her father had come home, and she knew that they would fight again, and she wouldn’t listen to that. She actually didn’t care about them being divorced, maybe then her mother would take her to another place, a place where the man wasn't. Nowhere she could be alone, neither safe. In the house her parents would be yelling at her and each other, and in the stable she could run into the stable boy, the man who had been abusing her all the time he had been working there. He was a kind and good-looking fellow, who everyone liked. He had dark hair and blue-greenish eyes, which was deep and thoughtful. The first time Danielle had met him she liked him and adored him, he was young and she looked at him with a childish love. He was about 20, and she was 9, still she had imagined a future with him. This dream crumbled about a week later when he came to her the first time. She had wondered why he wanted her to come to the stable late at night where everyone else was asleep. Now she knew why.
She was nine, she had no idea of why or what he did to her, all she knew was that it was wrong and it hurt as hell. She couldn’t tell her parents, they had enough to think about, and she didn’t think they would understand her, nor believe in her. He was such a nice young man. Time and experience had made her older in mind. She had seen things and felt things on her own little body she didn’t know were possible and still she was only nine. NINE, for God's sake!!!
Her only friend in this world was an old horse, named Castello. And she loved him. She could ride him all day long and forget all about her life, just enjoy the nature and the beast underneath her.
She went over to him, that big silver grey horse, he looked at her, knowing that she would take care of him, take him outside. He was really to big for her, but her parents didn’t care about that detail. If she were to fall if him, she could get really hurt. But she had never fallen off him. She picked up the gear in another room and got him ready. His breath stood white and clear in the icy air. The smell of animalistic power filled her nose straws. On the way out of the stable she met the man; Nicholas was his name. He smiled at her and stopped in the doorway, looking down at her, smiling. Her heart started to beat faster, and Castello was uneased, he could feel something was wrong. Nicolas slowly, without loosing sight of her, backed out of the stable, looking at her with his deep green eyes. She shuddered and took the horse outside. She climbed, with some difficulties up on him, smiled devilish at Nicholas and gently kicked the horse in his flank. After half a minute or so, she started to cry helplessly again. She couldn’t stop and she let Castello go wherever he wanted, she buried her head in her gloves and cried. Suddenly she had had enough, she just wanted to die, make it all disappear make it all go away! She looked up at the sky, at the trees and the frozen planes. What to do? She could just kill herself, run in front of a car or something… that would be the easy way. But she loved life before Nick had come into her life. He was the problem here, not her. She would not die because of that mans weird needs. She asked her horse what to do; he shook his head and tried to get some of the frozen grass. She looked at him for a long time, and then she made up her mind.
That evening her mother and father had argued and she slept beside her mother, she had let her do that, she usually never let her… a night in peace. The next morning she was really sore all over her body from the other night’s violent rape.
She knew that she was different than the other girls she knew at her age. She had small breasts, and about a year ago, she had noticed blood in her underwear, and now the blood came once every month. Her mother had tried to tell her something about the blood and babies and stuff, but she didn’t really understand it… Her mother had taken her to the doctor, and he had told them that this rarely happened, but it wasn't anything to be worried about, she was just becoming a “big girl” as her mother called her. She didn’t care. Actually her mother had been telling her, that she didn’t like her attitude against some things. But really she didn’t care one little bit about anything, only her only friend who really just was a stupid horse.
In school she had no friends, she just sat in the corner of the classroom reading, thinking or writing. The others teased her, said she was a freak. At first they made her sad, now she just looked at them, thinking how sad they looked, how small and ignorant they were. How little they knew about the real world. A world of pain and suffering. Her teachers had called in a meeting some time ago. They wanted to talk to her parents about her behaviour in class and in the breaks, how she was all alone and like “dark” in her attitude, of course she was a bright girl, actually the smartest one in class, but still she was always alone. Her parents had said something about some problems at home and forgot all about it.
At dinner that night Nick was invited. She was scared of him and every movement he made her fear him even more. He was charming and innocent, played an innocent young man, with no worried what so ever. But they both knew that it was wrong. Her mother looked at him a certain way, a way she remembered she had looked at her father before they “grew apart” as they called it. With love and lust in her eyes. Danielle looked at them and realized that they were more than friends. They were sleeping together, she looked at him and didn’t look away when he looked back at her, he blinked at her and she smiled and lifted one eyebrow. Now she had it! This was too much to handle. She had to do something. She remembered one of the boys in class, who had said that he had gotten a new father after his parents had divorced, and she looked at Nick and her mother and fear arose in her mind. Nick as her father, never!! Oh my God.
After dinner she went outside to get some fresh air, there she met Nick, she wasn't afraid of him anymore, she just hated him with all she had inside of her, the hate was everything right now, and she wanted to kill him. He looked at her, smiled and said; “You’re a bright young kid, Danielle, I know you know about your mother and I. I didn’t expect you to get it, but you did, you surprise me all the time.” She looked at him and smiled, “Thank you,” she said, and continued, “I don’t care about you, my mother or father or anyone else!! I hate you all and I just want to be left alone. But you cant leave me alone, now can you!” he looked at her with his eyes wide open, he blinked and walked up to her, he stood really close to her and smiled an uncertain smile, “what do you mean, I love you, cant you feel that, little girl? I love you and I want you, like I want your mother! And I hate you as well, I’d like to kill you and to hit you, and keep hitting you until your own mother, that whore, cant recognize you anymore!” She looked at him and turned around on her heels and walked away. The tears came up in her eyes, but she didn’t notice them, she knew she couldn’t kill him, he was too strong.
That night he came to her, and he dragged her to the stable again, did what he had been doing for so long now, only this time he didn’t care about leaving marks on her, he had never beaten her up that much, this time he used a knife and he cut in her back…he whipped her and raped her. This time was he did it over and over again; some times she was unconscious, sometimes painfully awake. Suddenly he stopped and cut her down. Leaved there on the concrete floor. She looked at him walk away, she could hear him cry, she didn’t understand why, but she didn’t care.
The next morning Danielle’s mother looked in Danielle’s room to see if she was there, but she wasn't, she called her name, but no response. She walked outside to see if Castello was in the stable, and he was, she touched him and walked into the room where they kept all the gear. When she opened the door she turned pale and screamed. There she was, hanging from the attic in a leash form some riding gear. Her face was swollen and pale and her little tongue was hanging from her mouth. She was almost naked and she had been bleeding before she died, her hands and back were all covered in dried blood.
The dead girls mother screamed again.

It's a Movie!

Posted 14 May 2002, 5.20 am by Berly

Here's a good little movie done in flash. It takes a little time to load, but I thought it was worth it. Maybe I'm just easily amused. Oh, yeah. Well - give it a shot. If you hate it, you can always stop watching it.


Honest. It's called Gooberstory. It's about a peanut. Well, all peanuts, actually...just watch it will ya?

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They were done for an exhibition a couple of years ago . They asked for something to so with the summer. They are mixed media and oil paint on metal advertising boards - for ice cream.

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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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