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NoVels...

Posted 1 February 2002, 6.21 am by Sickan

Chapter 3
He enjoyed the silence in the house after the staff had gone home. There was always a little comfort in sitting alone in the great mansion, the old noises the ancient house made and the silent sagas it told. He nodded as if he were trying to convince himself that that was true.
He was 58 years old and had never had a family, he didn't like children; they were to destroying and dirty he had said. People had this idea about old things, they had to touch them no matter how many times you told them not to. And he had a lot of old goods, all had a special place in his heart, they were all his children.
In his early days his had been an excellent and accepted archaeologist, he had been at all the great sites and he had seen a lot. But what had been driven him had been all the tales and spooky rumours about curses and stuff like that in Egypt. He loved Egypt, that was a land of ancient pride, but now the Western world had eaten it up from the inside too, like all the other great and ancient worlds all over the world.
He shook his head.
Now he lived safe in London and in his elder days he had thrown himself over writing, he had started writing his memories and published them and then he had written some fiction and found that he was pretty good at it. Now he had received his first order from an unknown person. The person who called himself Wulf had asked him to write something dark and scary. Anthony didn't mind that as long as it kept him going, the money $ 5000 were not what had made him agree. On the other side he felt that he had no choice, Wulf hadn't written any address or anything to reach him on, he just wrote that he would contact him after one month and then pick up the short story.
Anthony rolled his chair to the writing desk and put some paper in the typewriter, bended forward and started typing.
The only sound in the great mansion was the water dropping from the bathtub. The sound was old and used.
The mansion was empty; there were no one but the body in the tub, only darkness and shadow.
The blood dropped slowly from the fingertip hanging over the edge and heavily landed on the floor. The drop smashed and clotted.
In the tub laid a silent voice. He was not yet dead, but he didn’t know that, it felt like death; it must be what death was like.
He considered the fact that he was still thinking and it also felt like he still breathed, not as if he was alive and well, but like a sick cat, slow and awaiting.
He had been looking forward to this day and now it finally felt right.
Death couldn’t be far away; he could feel the warmth from the blood running down his hands from each their wrists.
Suddenly there was a tickling sound by the window, Anthony turned slowly around, but there were nothing except the old oak tree outside.
Anthony stood up and walked to the kitchen, he fancied a cup of tea. He was actually proud of himself, he had never expected to be an author, nevertheless not a good one, but he felt good about his work and himself, something he had not felt for years. Now the past could be a closed chapter in his life. He smiled; now he even talked author-language.

The Greatest HTML Editor Of Them All

Posted 1 February 2002, 4.43 am by The_Roach

Here is a site for anyone who wants to design a website as cool as AKpCEP (yeah, right).

F*R*I*E*N*D*S

Posted 31 January 2002, 11.27 pm by Villager

Once upon a time I looked at the people I spent my time with, admired certain things about them, be it intelligence, humour, the quality of conversation you could have with them, and told myself they all counted as my friends. The people with whom I went to school, played football with, lived near.

Recently, I've taken a look at the people I spend my time with. Again, I counted those who I thought 'qualified', but I came up with only three. That, quite honestly, shocked me. I went over it again, and got the same answer. What may have caused this drop, is the criteria by which they were measured. Instead of asking what I liked about them, as I once did, I asked how they have been, as friends. How they have acted towards me when I've been down, how they've joined in my joy when I've been on top of the world. How they shut up when I'm in a mood, sensing what I feel, how they know what I find funny, and what I do not.

And it was glaring who was to be classed a 'true' friend, and who was not. Those who immediately sprang to mind for being there when i needed them, having shown their characters at the important times, and never really giving me cause to doubt them, were the same three people, over and over. No others, these three aside, demonstrated even occasionally the same character as the three.

I do not quite know whether to ask myself, 'damn, I only have three friends?', or 'I have three true friends whom I can rely upon, am I one lucky guy or what?'. One result certainly shall be that I appreciate these people more, and the positive impact that they time and time again have upon my fragile life. But such an evaluation also raises questions of another, less fruitful kind.

Am I not wasting my time socialising with people with whom I dislike much of their character? Is it not little short of idle apathy to just go with the flow, being around whoever chance may find (for that is how much of it seems)? Or, per chance, am I over analysing reality, reading too deeply into the fact that not everyone chooses to commit themselves as friends, as I might like? Standards which are set by no less than myself, in my attitudes towards those for whom I care.

Good friends are hard to find, make sure you know who yours are.

Life at it´s best...???

Posted 31 January 2002, 8.15 pm by Sickan

Sometimes I just get the feeling of being outside my life. Like I cant control it, and that really makes me sick inside. If there is one thing I want to control it’s my life, but I guess it’s the only thing I can’t really control, none of us can.
It just makes me wonder if I'm only a guide in my life? As you get older, I know that some of you might think that I'm not in the position of saying older cause I'm only 18… but I sometimes just wish back to when I could kick back and all I had to do was scream when I wanted my food or attention. I try to scream but nobody is listing, everyone is so busy with everything. Well I know they are because we all are, but I just sit here and feel as if it’s all just gone too fast. Now I'm moving away from all my friends, they are all going to a different town than I – I cant study what I want where they are going, typical!!
The worst part about this condition of mind is that it's not something I can pick up and kill or handle any way – its life and therefore it just happens! Hmm… well I know that its not like I'm all left alone, but everything is so new to me and it’s hard for me to realize that you have to break free from the what I know. I finally get a place where I'm in good hands, and then I have to leave it before I realize what I got, being kicked around all my life by others and now I'm doing this to myself.

I love my life and I'm looking forward to trying something new, but at the same time it scared the living crap out of me!! I guess that’s just life!!

Wow.

Posted 30 January 2002, 10.54 pm by Jake

Well, well, well. It's my first writing for this website, and I have no friggin' clue as to which topic I should use. So, I'll just relate a story to you guys and check your input. A friend of mine was dating a girl for a while. They got into the daily sexual habit (which accompanies MANY teenage relationships...surprise surprise) and one day, decided to take pictures. Well, that was all fine and good, but he left one of the pictures out one day and his younger brother found it and told their parents. The girl's mom prohibited her from seeing him, and his parents did pretty much the same (add a little bit of child abuse). This sent him into a deeep downward spiral, emotionally and academically. He's one of my best friends, and I hate to see him like that. Unfortunately, he's the type that likes to wallow in his own sorrow, and he can only see her at school. He has begun to expand his illegal drug pharmacopoeia and use speed and ecstasy regularly. She is always all over him, she needs him, and he needs her (although he's too proud to admit it) and I believe that they truly love each other. So with all that in mind, his parents have finally brought up the proposition of letting him talk about his needs and what he wants. Smartest thing they ever did. So, the question stands....is love really all it's cracked up to be? And if it doesn't work out in their favor, what in the hell should I do to keep him in good mental health(short of compliments and discussions)? Maybe more drugs.

Novels

Posted 30 January 2002, 5.13 pm by Sickan

Chapter 2
She walked restless around in the silent house, again left to rot she said angrily, and looked out on the green, perfectly trimmed lawn, at least everything is in order, she thought. Her mind had left her, and the novel weren't waiting for her to get herself together, neither were the strange man who had hired her to write a casual novel, something about death he had said, and then given her $5000. She had exactly one month to write the novel in, which should be more than enough. But that was then and the situation had changed a bit since, she had one week left and she had written nothing yet, it was like something had taken all her ideas away. She had never in her 38 years of living and writing experienced a writer’s blockade, but now she had one, at the most crucial time of her career. Typical, just fucking typical! The story of her life, first she married a rich and hansom business man who had a good and healthy future to give her, she married him two weeks after they meet, just to find out he was an idiot with a lot of debt and no plans for the future other than kill himself – and so he did. She inherited nothing from him and she didn't even cry at his funeral. Two days later she discovered she was pregnant, she had no choice but to keep the baby inside her and then put it up for adoption when she had delivered it.
A year later she married again and this time with a man who had the financial background in order and he didn't owe anything to anybody, but again there were a twist, he became violent when he were drunk. He raped her and threw her around ever weekend for almost 10 years, before she realized that some day he would kill her, if she didn't stop him. And so she did Christmas eve two years ago, she staged an accident; she had put a silk scarf at the top of the stair and as he were on his way down he slipped. He broke his neck.
She inherited a very large amount of money. Just as she wished.
She shook her head; get back to the present, she said to herself. There was a habit she couldn't get rid of, talking to herself. She guessed it was understandable; she was alone all day long, just writing and writing, but not any longer, now she couldn't even write a shopping list. She covered her head in her hands and moaned. She sat down by the computer and made herself write something, and suddenly she got an idea.

"I could hear the cries of the undead outside my mind. I rolled over and put my arm around the man beside me. I had forgotten his name, but it didn’t matter anymore. He had blinked for the last time; his young hearth wouldn’t beat anymore."

...and then you get a bill...

Posted 30 January 2002, 2.25 pm by Sickan

I was just going around today, listing to some loud angry music, something that’s not unlike me when I remembered to check my mail. In my mailbox, between a lot of junk I discovered a little envelope. I opened it and discovered a Giro inpayment form. I looked at it and the numbers printed on it, a rather large sum. I looked at who wanted the money, and it's some company saying that I, about 6 months ago became a member of their union, where they help people find a place to live… I shooked my head, because I´d never even heard about this company!! I turned the page and there was more to the story, they threatened to hand over the claim to a debt-collecting firm, if I didnt pay the money... I was like, what the “#¤%#¤/¤%/!!! I looked at the papers to find a telephone number, but there weren’t any, I looked at the papers, and all there were, was an e-mail address where I could contact them!! So all I could do what to write a “nice” little mail to them, telling them that I've never heard about them before and that they'd better stop mailing me or else I would contact a lawyer!!

I cant believe this, I mean, why is it that some people think they have the right to claim money like this?? I think its sick, and I get so pissed off when I hear about situations like this.
Its not much fun to be threatened with debt-collection firms and stuff like that…
Hmm…
The worst part about is that it has so be somebody I know, who signed me up to this company, because they knew my telephone number and e-mail address. That stinks!!

Walking Out Of The Woods

Posted 29 January 2002, 9.36 pm by marilee

My education has been anything but average. There are times when I consider this a blessing, although, there are also times when I wish I could have been like every other child.

I was having coffee with my mother the other day, and she enquired about how the whole quest for higher education was coming along. After telling her all the good news, I confessed that upon taking a practice SAT I totally boomed on the math parts. I must have sounded a bit discouraged and looked downcast because she said something along the lines of, "Well honey, what did you expect?" She paused, and then added, "You haven't had any sort of formal education. You've never gone through the system that prepares you for this sort of thing. Think of it this way, you are like someone who has just stumbled out of the woods and doesn't know any English. You have, amazingly, picked up enough words and social skills to get by and have fairly interesting conversations with people but that's about it."

Normally, these types of remarks would spark up my insecurities enough that I would fire back with counter examples of how I had a perfectly well rounded education, one might say a better education than most, although, she was right and I knew that. It didn't even bother me that much, if anything I figured I should be patting myself on the back for how far I had gotten.

To understand my situation, I must explain my schooling history and why it is I ended up in each educational insinuation along the way.

By age five I still hadn't been exposed to large amounts of peers before, nor had I ever lacked total attention. As a baby, I was deaf for quite a long while, almost the whole time undiagnosed, due to ear infections. This meant I learnt to talk and read later than most children. Also, since I couldn't hear, I learnt to look to my surroundings for information, which in fact, lead to a short attention span when it came to concentrating on individual information sources. All this meant I was a shy, quiet and kind of spacey little kid. My parents feared putting me in our overcrowded school system that didn't have the funding to care for any child's special needs would not only lack any benefit to my development but might in fact destroy me.

They decided that a private school was the only answer. At a private school, surely, the class sizes would be small enough and I would get the attention I needed. They were, they thought, paying enough for such elite treatment. Considering I had just learned how to speak properly, I unfortunately hadn't learned to read yet. The teachers at my school came to the conclusion I must be "slow", without much investigation or even the courtesy to tell my parents of their discovery concerning my learning capabilities. They thought it would be best not to spend any extra time or effort trying to teach me how to read because I likely wouldn't catch on and instead would let me sit during reading time doing nothing. One day I innocently asked my mother why some girls had to sit under the stairs and some girls didn't. She asked me who made these girls sit under the stairs, I responded that the teachers did. She asked me what these girls had done to be punished, I told her I didn't know. She asked me if "these girls" meant me. My eyes filling up with tears, nodded my head slowly. My parents, once they found out what was going on, were outraged at the money they'd wasted and took me out of the school instantly.

They took me to a tutor and I learnt to read at a highschool level in the course of a couple months. After that, they placed me in my local public elementary school. Each day I grew a little quieter, looked a little sadder and cried longer every night. My teacher yelled at me, called me names and hit the students. By this point, I'm sure my parents were at their ropes end. After a year and a half of this, it was finally enough, once again they knew they had to search for another option or they might lose the happy little baby they had once known for good.

I can remember my mother telling me about my new school. "What will I have to wear? Do I have to wear a uniform?" "No, no uniform, you can wear whatever you like." "Do you know where my desk will be?" "They don't have desks, they have a table though." "Where will I sit at the table?" "Wherever you like, it's a big round table, you can choose where you want to sit. You can also sit on the carpet." "What classes will I be taking?" "I don't know, they were reading and drawing when I visited." "Oh. Okay." "Go to bed now. You'll see it in the morning."

It was a little house with a big backyard. There was in fact a table, and all the floors, except the kitchen, were carpeted. There was a large room in the front of the house were most of the school meetings took place, a small library where we would put on little plays, a bathroom where we'd do science experiments and a computer room full of Macs. There was no curriculum, there were no teachers, classes were requested by children and mainly would consist of science experiments. I spent most of my time there reading science magazines and comic books, using the internet, playing computer games which my friend Jeff would make, climbing on the tree outside and putting on little plays with my friends.

I only touched a text book once while I was there. It occurred to me that I had stopped learning the things I had been while I was at a regular school, and this some what bothered me. I went into the library and found the only text book that was there, a grade eight math book. I took it home and got my dad to teach it all to me over the next couple weeks.

In the middle of grade 6 I moved to another alternative school, but this one was a little different. They actually made you do work. I saw a text book for the first time in years. I basically went from a grade three level to a grade six level in one day. I had a little trouble with math and French but I picked up on the rest of it quite quickly.

Finally, after two and a half years of actual academic work, I'd caught up to my grade level and it was time for highschool. There was, of course, a problem with this. I had to leave the one school that actually had taught me anything I wouldn't have just learnt by staying at home. The images of my first couple of school years flashed into my mind and I couldn't get them out. While everyone else was applying for advanced programs and mini-schools I was contemplating suicide as the only real option. My parents applied to a few for me and I got into each one. Looking back now, I would have jumped at the chance for those kinds of opportunities, but I hadn't grown enough yet and I was scared. Finally I found a high school just like my elementary schools where I spent the whole time playing. I applied and got in. Due, solely, to my own motivation I completed my grade nine and ten in one year and they told me that if I wanted any more credit I would have to move on as they weren't able to grant anything higher then 10. Figuring that I was old enough to deal with "normal" people I thought I'd try finishing my education at a "normal" school. It wasn't much surprise that after two weeks I dropped out and got a job. I never really looked back or regretted it to any degree I'd admit until now.

Since that time, when I have been tested to see what grade level I would currently be placed at, the testers are always surprised because although in some areas I have college level skills in others I lack even those skills of your average eight year old. This is, of course, due to the fact I skipped most of my academic life, popping in only occasionally when I felt like it.

So now, I am an 18 year old who can bullshit her way though a year of algebra and calculus but can't even help a 10 year old with some of the tricky questions on his or her homework. I can write a perfect essay without a single grammar or spelling mistake but I wouldn't be able to tell you what an adjective is if my life depended on it. My education is full of holes, actually, huge gaping chunks. I wonder what life would have been like if I'd taken any of the opportunities to have a "real" education. I also wonder if I'll ever be able to fill in all those gaps. I know that it is imperative I fill in enough that I can get by at college, just the same way I had to fill in enough to get by in grade six. What concerns me is that by the time I have my degree it's possible I will still be in this same predicament. Of course, if that is the case, it might not actually matter.

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In 2018 I started painting again. This was one of a series of acrylic sketches I did to relearn techniques and revisit my skills from art college.


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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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