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happy!
or,ascloseas.
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The above was written spontaneously (or, as so as you can with this type of writing), in the midst of some unacquantied but rather familiar feeling. It's an attempt to record, and hence keep forever, a flicker of happiness in myself. Wether or not it has been effective i have yet to be certain: the mood in which i feel the necessity for nostalgia has yet to surface.
Damn that flesh! Ah, i am reminded of the stench of sex, the smell of silver glittering cunt and cock. Is this all i have left now? Have i dismissed all other times so casually? No. But it is all but wise to hang on to memories of decay.
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| new and improved: more words. | nov7.04.0106 |
I don't want a comment on the bias propogandic opinions i may express through this journal. I want a comment saying "i love you". I want a comment saying "i'm waiting upstairs to lie beside you". I think i need a pair of strong arms to cry in.
Precisely 23-1/2 hours earlier, i wrote an entry in another journal. Quirky.
My head is hurtiong quite intensely now. I can't see straight, i'm dizzy, and i feel as though i need to vomit. This is no different to any other day. This is endless, until i die. This is a reason to kill myself. I have no intention on doing this, however: it would not be practical.
HA! Isn't it funny how "selfish" taking one's own life is. Selfish is a word used by people who are jealous because someone isn't thinking about them. Selfish is a word used by selfish people.
It's christmas eve and i've only wrapped two fuckin' presents, and i hate hate hate your guts... Wow, that song sure brings back some nostalgic memories. Enough!
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| OLIVER THE BOY | ... and the girl who |
i've just lost one of the most important entries i've ever written, and i don't even know why.
___________________________
No matter. Is there such a thing as "man power"? Isn't it just power over women? CAN men truly have any sort of power, without women? What does it mean to have power in a man, that a women cannot have?
Kinda, yup, nope, nothing comes to mind.
Women? The bringers of birth, the carers of humanity's children... yes, women have power. I'm stereotyping against men who are more maternal than women, but if any of these such men were to read this, and if they disagree, then i woul dbe more than happy to consider their points.
What are humans? I answered, with a childish grin of self-accomplishment, "baby machines". Women naturally are; it's in the mechanics. But what do men do? Sprinkle a little juice?
It could be considered difficult to be a male, in a kind of sad sense. Of course, no female could ever say that. Because it's not at all easy to be a women. A major issue is, as mentioned, "women power". Remember the witch trials? Supposed "magic" was the only power woman had way back then, and look how men responded: "you show power, i must burn you!". Agh, how primitive! Now, in an age of equality, men still cannot cope before the power of their opposite sex, unless they can dominate them.
I say again, what is a man without a woman? Of course, to a certain degree, men are required to build population, else they wouldn't exist!
Penis envy? Why would you want a damn penis? It gets hard when you don't want it to, and goes soft when you most want it not to be! It's easier, physically, and in some ways emotionally, to be a male, so long as they conform to exactly what's expected of them. Oh, but don't think i'm about to side with males on the topic of gender roles. Certainly, the conventionally advertised man, as a perfectly formed and sexually charged being is slowly developing in the same way that the erotic female/mechanic housewife did, but it's not a set standard yet. When guys start feeling as though they must plaster their faces in chemical shit just to fit in to the most mainstream social arenas, then i may consider the difficulties males face. But, until then, i stand by my say-so that men couldn't have it much easier.
The closest partnerships i've ever seen have been gay. Female 4 female or male 4 male. Certainly, there are many happy and fulfilled different-gender couples, and yes, i am young in my experience, and have seen only a handful of relationships. But, a boy could never understand what it means to be "mother", and a girl could never understand what it means to be "father". So, there is much conflict between understanding of basic nature. The happiest hetero relationships i've seen have been ones in which the male is slightly effeminate in their emotions - this, i would presume, means that the levels of emotional awareness is similar in each player in the partnership, instead of being inbalanced by macho+missus, which is something i have come across too many times to waver my perception.
I use stereotypes, yeah, but either say something meaningful, shut up and sit down, or fuck off *.
* This is not intended to sound aggressive, and if confusion is caused, the statement should be taken entirely playfully.
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I've noticed how i do not conform to the male sterotype i have in my mind, and the only males that do not conform either are gay. This causes the arousal of certain doubts in my heterosexuality. Also, out of a relationship, i seem to fantasise almost equally over both sexes. I have yet to taste another man's flesh, and i don't know if i ever will. Since i'm currently in a strong and fulfilling hetero relationship, i doubt my curiosities will be put to ease any time soon. Which would bother me if, as i've already said, i was not in a relationship, and did not belong in my entirety to her.
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My mother is no longer "my" mother. Was she, though, ever mine? I don't think i really care enough to ponder on that... although, i will no doubt consider why i do not care.
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| YEAH | oct-4 '04 |
I'm annoyed by the necessity to conform to socially acceptable restrictions in plutonic (wrong word??) relationships. I'm referring to, you guessed it: gender roles. Such a fresh, new topic for me. No, not really, but if you don't like it, fuck off. I'm not writing this in consideration of one particular person.
BTW: JOHN 5'S "VERTIGO" ALBUM KICKS MAJOR FRICKIN' ASS!!!
Girls can hug girls. Girls can hug guys. Guys can hug guys. Guys can hug !--[EUGH, YOU'RE GAY!]--!. Ok, so maybe guys CAN'T hug guys. What the fuck's up with that? I want some goddamn male lovin, and i ain't talking about that "macho" "i'm gonna squeeze the fuck outta ya 'cause i can and my willy is big" type of hug. That ain't a hug, that's a grapple. Are guys around here just not sensitive enough to carry the capacity to hug?
Even all the guys i thought were cool seem to be focused on image. Bah, fuck them.
So, Kate and Nic (two chicks... not exactly easy, but far from uptight) were walking past, and me being me, i poked 'em. 'Cause i felt like it, and they enjoyed the attention (although, i'll have to ask if i seem to overbearing). Then, this arrogant, self-absorbed FUCK named oliver walked on by, i poked him (he followed the other two), and he gave me the shittiest goddamn look... we're in class together and stuff, he talks to me on occasion, i mock him on occasion (although, i doubt he much picks up on it...). But, jeezuz! And these little kids behind me (i still attend school) are screaming, "he poked that boy! he's gay!".
I'm bored of this topic. I'm too pre-occupied to make my point properly and coherantly, and i should be doing school work.
Heh, yeah, that's likely.
Shit, a girl at work yesterday remarked on the way i seemed "layed back" compared to her, and somewhat of a "rebel". I said, a rebel actually gives a shit.
Anyway, this is sounding WAY too like everything else on here, and i like to be able to actually read it back to myself on occasion, so i'm just gonna shut the fuck up.
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| JUST | sept22 |
[2218]
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This song makes me feel... it's Red Hot Chilli Pepper's "Otherside", my favourite song from that album, and the most (for lack of a less over-used word) depressing, too. This is not for the song itself, but for the memory that i've attatched to it.
Memories are coming vividly. I'm remembering times from a past personality as though they were yesterday, instead of some two years ago. While it's pleasant to be able to actually remember, it's scary, because i can't recall a single week where i've not felt low, shifting slightly my otherwise obliviously optimistic view.
I seem to cuss myself a lot. I don't think it can be all that healthy. It may attribute to my lack of effort, since i'm actually not all that lazy - when i'm not truly tired, i'm pretty energetic. If something look as though i may fuck it up, i don't seem to want to try. Because if i do something wrong, it's far harder to deal with than if i hadn't have done it in the first place.
When i majorly fuck up, i ask myself something similar to "what the fuck's wrong with you, you fucking retard, you stupid bitch". Thankfully, though, it's mostly just a general "why did you even both, stupid?" External motivation pushes me away from these kind of thoughts, opposing my question "why bother" with "'cause [whoever] said to bother". In this sense, i'm dependant on other people to get me to do something. If i was lazy, i'd be entirely reluctant, and not just seemingly lacking in self-motivation.
I'm curious, now, as to what it is that grants people self motivation, and why i seem to have very little of it.
[2240]
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GODAMMIT! I feel as though i'm of the wrong gender to feel the way i do. It pisses me off. Thankfully, though, Gemma (who's a cool chick) is self-proclaimed as slightly blokish, which makes it easier for me to be as what is natural for me, and slightly girlish. By blokish and girlish i am, of course, refering to male and female sterotypes.
I said, for a long time, that steroetypes existed for a reason, and hence, are justified. Then, pretty recently, i started to consider the historical origins of these sterotypes, instead of simply the local origins. Like gender roles, for instance, but also racism. These sterotypes are played so harshly, though, that people can't often help but to conform to them, making the sterotype seem locally justified. So, as long as people exist with a memory of historic judgements, ridiulous, out-dated sterotypes will exist, and as long as people conform to these, those who criticise the stereotypes will have fuel for their fury.
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| WELL DUH | sep19 '04 |
The information on the previous entry is wrong. It's not that i am homophobic -- i was entirely incorrect -- it's simply that i know what can come with homosexuality and bisexuality (ie victimising, violence, etc), and that scares me.
Thank you, xxjenayluvzuxx, for your comment, by the way.
Why male homophobia? One reason is because homosexuality, and it's practices, challenge stereotypical views of machoism. This disorientates and confuses some, angering them. Many are curious too, but this curiosity angers them even more, for they cannot see themselves as truly "manly", which is understandably frustrating for these poor fools.
For this reason - an idea of being a "real man" - gay love between two females, so long as it's seemingly erotic, is accepted with pleasure. What kind of "proper" guy wouldn't want two girls fucking anyway?
My points are poorly printed, so i apologise to any who may actually be reading. Basically, fudamental home teaching tells us that boy meets girl, fucks girl. Girl is sexy. So, (sexy) girl can meet (sexy) girl, fuck (sexy) girl. However, boy carries nothing; no pleasing titles or whatever, so when boy meets boy, people get confused.
This whole load of finger-spew came from my pondering over the reason Gemma's step-father dislikes my long hair. First time i meet him, he's standing with his beer belly overflowing his shorts, and HE complains about MY appearence. Excuse my frustration: i do not like being judged for the choices i make in personal preferences. Anyway, i was wondering what possible reason a person could have for not liking someone based on the fact that they simply have long hair. According to my logic at the time, it was proposterously stupid. Then i considered how this booze-belching beast may judge a person. Long hair, to this particular neanderthal, obviously challenged what he believed to be "normal", and for that simple reason, he didn't like it; the choice of mine to carry such an opposition to normality was not to his taste.
I write with sour words for i was indeed appalled that such a fellow would base an entire opinion on a single factor of appearence. Of course, this wouldn't have been such a big deal if i wasn't struggling not to place judgements on this character myself. The fact that my effort was unrequited, to put it simply, pissed me right off.
Yes, i seem naturally bitter towards males. But, i'm not much different towards females either. There are reasons for this, but i don't feel like going into them, so i bid you, Mr. Journal, and all who read this, goodnight and farewell, for now.
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| HOMO | September 2, 2004 |
Music: Danny Elfman - Edward Scissorhands (Score)
"You're gay, and i can accept that". I saw a chat show (forgive me; it was late, and there was nought else on), perhaps a week ago. The catchline was "son, please don't be gay". It wasn't too bad, and the host brang up an interesting topic of labelling (how she dislikes to do so), and i was thinking about stuff that's beside the point i was gonna make.
"I can accept that". This suggests that the speaker has no issues whatsoever on the topic of homosexuality, having accepted whomever the gay individual is. But accept as what? The very thought of a neccesity for acceptance proves that the speaker can NOT accept, else there would be nothing to say. You don't say to someone, "Dude, your car is green, and i can accept that." Well, perhaps if you don't like green, but that's exactly my point. Even if you feel as though you _can't_ accept whatever it is, you still needn't voice your thoughts, else you demonstrate the issues you have with whatever it is your supposedly "accepting".
There was something else that interested me, though, and that was learnt homosexuality. I'd never actually thought about this before, but often wondered how it is that heteros differ from homos, or bis. The idea was that, in the same sense that a guy may find two fleshy lumps on the chest of a female attractive (i use males as an example since they seem to tend to be more objectifying, while females have to be more accepting towards ass hair, beards and beer bellies, and must live to certain male standards of basic eroticism). Basically, things leading up to a person's sexual development shape their sexual desires; often, they can shape their sexual preferences too. I've heard of people becoming "ungay", through therapy to resolve whatever reasons they may be gay (i realise how fucking moronic this must sound, but i'm using fact here, and i'm not entirely up to speed on the deal with this). Confused youths often find themselves questioning their sexuality because they've learnt to associate their same sex with sexual comfort, along with, or over, the opposite sex. Hey, something's just sprang to mind! Jack Black in Saving Silverman (aka Evil Woman) decided that his repulsion against woman must be because he was gay (and not because he played an overweight slob with no desirable characteristics). Of course, is a stupid example, but as i mentioned, it was just something that came to mind.
In a nutshell: i couldn't care less why a person's gay, and i disagree with any personal feelings of necessity to label oneself as any particular sexuality. I also disagree with people in general, mainly because i have no life, and nothing better to do.
I have learnt to be homophobic. I've had gay/bi friends to whom i've never had any problems (before the stuff i describe below), and i often find myself confused as i lustfully drool at another guy. As i've said before, i don't know what my sexual orientation is, i don't care what it is, i just wanna feel the warmth of sex and/or a relationship. Anyone who does it for me can give me a go.
Despite this, i still have homophobic tendancies. Yes, i hate this fact.
Here's a little story: one day, i got so confusd by my sexual feelings, i decided i MUST be bisexual, since there was no othe explanation. I blurted this out at school... the worst thing to come of this has been a fear to leave this house; my mind and heart becomes racy and fearful as i journey by bus through one particular road (which i must travel by bus along every sunday, for work) after a group of young children hurled verbal abuse through the window beside me while banging against the barrier that sperated us (this has been perhaps the most traumatic); i've been spat on walking down the street in a spit-and-run incident; i've not had a single day at school without recieveing one of many over-used homophobic remarks; i was pushed down and stomped by a group of 5+ individuals while choking on my own blood as i gasped for any air that may make it past the congestion of dark red fluid population my throat and mouth (it was a worse sight than it sounds, but it was both physically and mentally easier than i've made out)... and finally, i've actually picked up this homophobic attitude that boils around me. I don't give a fuck about the rest of this stuff; this last thing pisses the hell out of me more than any of the others.
Now, i don't know where i stand, since my wandering eyes and dreaming mind conflict with this macho-bullshit attitude that goes against anything that doesn't LOVE the pussy. Heh, and this does WONDERS for my esteem.
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| PULP | August 29, 2004 |
Every night feels as though i'm falling further and further down within my own broken mind. ...**cough*GOTH*cough**... Seriously, every time i feel low, it's as though it's been the shittiest thing i've ever felt. And i believe this, too. But! Then i read through my purple-folder-book (aka Memory Bank), and discover i've always been feeling like crap, and that despite the fact that i feel like i could never
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the cat just scared the shit outta me; my immediate reaction was to ready my fist and make myself aware of my surroundings
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(cont:) My point is, despite these feelings of all-time-lowness, i know i always feel better after bearing through it. This is a great help when thoughts of suicide and such occur: i know they will pass, and i will regret any stupid actions taken (unless, of course, they were fatal, in which case i won't be alive to actually regret them, well duh).
I have a great many mini-poems and half-letters to an imaginary girl. I remember the setting when they were composed, but i can't completely relate to them, and while they are seemingly coherant and simple, i cannot follow them. I'm very tired, and swaying now; my vision is blurry, my eyes heavy, and my hands are typing as though disconnected from my brain, which feels as though it's been shutdown, leaving my body to do as it pleases. I'm concerned about returning to school. I've just remembered what i felt i needed to write about (see above!).
I'm writing this backwards, in a sense. The last paragraph was written first, and the one after this one was written just BEFORE this one. If there's a paragraph before this one, it would have been written after the completion of this paragraph. Hmmph.
It's 0443am, but it feels like 0213am. I've only noticed the time by the fact that i'm BLOODY TIRED. My ex-girlfriend made an appeareance at work today. This caused me to become hot and flushed, which was agitating, and instead of being able to keep completely calm and civil, as i would prefer, i felt disgusted by emotions tied with memories that suddenly flooded back. Which was most peculiar; before triggering this (before seeing her), i was pretty much in a state of "who the fuck cares" as far as relationships in the past, the present, and the future were concerned.
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Heh, super detective mode, and a hyperactive mood. An anonymous comment was made, in another book. What i can't figure out is just who would take anything i'd have done* and make it personal, against themselves. And then, why i would have associated with this type of person in the first place. Finally, why they would believe i could stretch myself far enough to recall any of my actions that may have had even the slightest influences on anybody. Thankfully, this demonstartes that whomever created this comment doesn't know me all too well; i can barely remember my own thoughts, resorting to writing them down and so forth to remember significant events, LET ALONE be able to remember what someone else MAY have been thinking upon the time of influence. And now i'm the pussy for pondering. Truthfully, i won't remember this until i read this entry portion again, or skim the talkingclock comments.
*especially through 'talkingclock', since i don't use that one to comment
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| CONFESSION | August 27, 2004 |
Someone has inspired me to create a short 'confession' list. The idea seems good, but i'm unsure as to wether or not i'd ever be able to produce anything from it. The original design seemed devoid of further comments, to i will try to stick to it, and follow that rule (ie, on the first one, i would've rambled about how typical this is).
* i smile more when i'm sad.
* i feel as though i cannot control myself, and prefer it when i am immobile and unable to hurt anyone.
* if i didn't lack motivation (towards anything) so much, i would 'cut', since motivation seems to be inconsiderate of the (dis)advantages of any activity, focusing on the task itself more than effects.
* i do not like my addiction to logic.
* i think i am an athiest; by most definitions i am, but i do not wish to b labelled as anything at all.
* religion seems to be almost entirely blind to fact and logic.
* nothing i've ever done has helped my mental condition. i think i'm stubborn, and i refuse to admit i'm depressive.
* i have a great deal of anger pent up inside of me; since i have no one/where to direct it toward, i force it upon myself, which pushes my esteem lower. anything that may boost esteem is dismissed as pathetic and stupid, which makes me feel worse, so i avoid most things.
* i lack basic conversational skills in certain moods, and in others, i'm an excellent socialiser. this upsets and frustrates me.
* a lot of the things in this list are quite new to me; a list of realistations, i would say. it's 6am in the morning, and i've not yet slept.
* i'm rather tired, but i feel the need to fall asleep only in someone's arms. this makes me feel pathetic, dependant and weak.
* my teddy bear is a substitute for human comfort. this, again, makes me feel like a feeble shit.
* i'm listening to a compilation album i created named "music to lie to". this is irrelevant.
* i love nothing, and i especially despise myself.
* sometimes, i am frightened by the movement and actions of my body, for it doesn't seem as though i am controlling it. it feels as though i'm watching as somebody strangles me. it's upsettingly distorting on my view of reality. i'm so tired i can't hold my head up straight.
* i never wanted to lose my virginity, way back then. i felt as though i wasn't ready, and felt pushed into fucking.
* i feel mocked by the blinking of the cursor.
* hearing these words in my head makes me feel mentally defective. i do not wish to be so.
* since i have tourette's, o.c.d. and whatever else, i am registered as disabled. when [the household family] visits them parks and the like, i must wear a bright wrist band to segregate me from the normal kind. this makes me feel alinenated, but i soon revel in my "uniqueness". however, i later curse myself for basking in any attention, or, lack of attention, i may have recieved.
* most of my memories make me feel sick to the stomach.
* i have no good way to finish this entry.
I miss the one who said "forever".
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| HEADACHE | August 27, 2004 |
Music: David Nevue - While The Trees Sleep
I am happy all day; the occasionaly high-peak of hyperness, or down-peak or loneliness, but generally, i'd say i'm happy, in that content kind of way. I progress throughoput the day with a posotive attitude, and if anything upsets me i can just wait for the mood to pass, knowing that it eventually will, should i hold on long enough.
I don't care about any of this shit i'm writing, typing, i don't give a crap. I don't care for obsessions, attention, mood swings, suicide, work, school, life, daylight, sleep, television, razorblades, hygeine, underwear, opression, inner conflict, I DON'T FUCKING CARE.
But they're all still there. All these things, they're still here, and they won't dissappear. I DO care about music, and art. I am unqualified when it comes to both. I would gladly spend my entire life dreaming. I'm trying to express something in writing, but i can't seem ot be able to do it. It's an immensely frustrating feeling; like if you were to try to draw a simple shape, yet on eveeyr goddamn attempt, the fucking thing just gets worse and worse to the point that you just wanna rip the fucking thing to pieces and slice you BLOODY FACE OFF!! SHIT! Ah, i don't feel well. I have a doctor's appointment next wednesday; i need to remember to talk about breathing trouble, about going back on medication to steady both moods and the tourette's, and... soemthing else, i'm sure. Soon, i will die, and nothing i'd have said, nothing i'd have done, will make any difference to that fact. My life will be worthless, and this i am aware of. Yet i am selfish, and i do not care.
I want to be held, i want to be loved, i wanna be motivated to get out of bed in the morning. I don't wanna live in memories, bask in what could be, and
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| UNRELENTING. (you make me feel) | August 24, 2004 |
Music: pink floyd (dark side of the moon); strangeland ost; massive attack (teardrop)
I have a memory of a girl who would bend any which way i desired. So, i slaughtered her. I dream of another who could make me feel like the most important person on earth, who could hold me so nothing could hurt, who, despite everything in her mind and in her world, would always find time for me. For that, i cheated on her. Another, who gave to me only companionship, promise, and an undying shoulder to cry on. I... i don't remember. Cue tears.
'another' {boy,tc}: the boy who can cause so much hurt, yet feel so little.
I do not enjoy being self-involved, i don't like being a slimy motherfucker, i never wanted to become anything close to what i am now. I do not wish to be forcably dominant, yet that seems to be how i choose to play.
I recall another girl, but she was lost... and now all i have is a heart stamped and returned, and memories that serve injustice.
And a final one. For her, i tried everything i could possibly think of to be absolutely perfect. I poured myself out in any way i knew how; most prominant were my waves of hand-crafted cards, letters and heart-shaped messages of love and devotion. At first i struggled though: my first real relationship was entirely sex-based, since that was all my partner knew; i believe that forced sex into my idea of a relationship, where it would never had existed there before. This idea stayed throughout the years that have passed until this moment, and have had a quite noticable effect on my relationships. Sex felt mandatory. And with the girl who came before this most recent one of whom i speak, the idea of sex as such an important part of a relationship -- even existing as the basis of one -- was mutual. However, after hurdling over the boundry of that first fuck (and after the sex felt less ~necessary~ and more ~enjoyable~), after boughts of depression and internal consultation, i began to develop into the (perhaps agressively?) romantic fool i breifly described above. Trouble was, i didn't really know for sure why i was with this girl. She was not particularly attractive either mentally nor physically, held nothing of any value to me, and offered me... well, to be perfectly honest, absolutely nothing. She was spoilt (since, while she was the eldest of her siblings, was also the precious only daughter of a different father to her brothers and sister, a father who gave money in place of a hand of comfort, or anything close to what you may tag as 'fatherly love'). And i only spoiled her more. For her, it would have been completely unnecessary to requite what i tried to offer. This, coupled with a mixture of home troubles, a desperate fight against depression, and a severely fucked up school life, hurt me in the long term, although i doubt i conciously realised it at the time. So, i gradually withdrew into myself, blocking out everybody, inclusive of her. I blamed her for various things; i cannot remember if i was right to place said blame, or if she was more than deserving, and probed and aggravated more than what i could ever blame for. I doubt she was ever guilty of anything more than needing the stability of a relationship, and the dominance offered by a partner.
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They were sitting quietly in the boy's front room, watching peacefully a random movie to pass the time between school hours. The girl, happy in her mind but far too sleepy to view the movie, stroked her distant lover. The boy, however, was in another time and place altogether, and was struggling to keep bearing with the relaxed situation. The girl continued to stroke, as an old mother of a far-gone brain damaged child, or a soon-to-be widow, to her dying husband. Her fingers caressed his cold and pale skin by the silvery glow of the screen, sliding further up his arm; brushing away the threads of an old t-shirt as she reached the rim of the garment, and finding these threads to be fastened to his skin, and not in fact threads but scabs of sliced flesh that only represented further this demented asshole's reclusive state of being. You shit, you sick fucking shit. The tears rolled down as though his flesh was hers, yet the boy sat silently and seemingly oblivously. Inside, though, he coul
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i am ashamed.
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| IMPRESSIVE WRITING | August 17, 2004 |
audio: Pink Floyd - Cluster One, Marooned
I saw the movie "I, Robot" today. It was everything i expected it to be. One of the most ineresting things was the use of human nature defying computer logic. Obviously, it was inconsiderate logic that didn't/couldn't take into account other factors... entertainment values, personal beliefs, internal morals, developed needs and trauma, brain disease... et cetera.
How can you seem really mysterious and smart in your journal? Well, first of all, lose all aspects of grammar. Now, write whatever you see, whatever comes into your mind, just spew it out onto paper (or, in this case, type it). Undoubtedly, you'll not be able to trace your exact thought pattern, but that doesn't matter, since the next thing you need to do is remember to NEVER re-read or spellcheck. Finally, anything you produce has to be so personal that practically nobody could ever deciphewr it, yet must present itself in a style that seems simple enough (which is a lot easier than it sounds). Use plenty of metaphors, since other people can relate to these better than actual facts and events, making it even more "awesome" and "genius".
There are a few more 'rules', but they're a lot more maleable, so i can't apply the same type of constraints. Obviously, this is complete and utter bullshit, since writing like this only certifies the fact that you are unflinching, unevolving and unchanging.
This was brought on by my considering of "misunderstood genius'", and how simple the things these people do really are. If you want to impress me, stop writing to, or for, people, and start writing from inside yourself. Write so that it doesn't matter how many comments you recieve, just so long as whatever you've created makes you feel good, fulfilled, comforted or cleansed. Yes, it's true that writing is like a kiss, in that it cannot be done alone, but that's not what i'm trying to say. Simply, the only stuff i could read as impressive would be genuine, not masked over by whatever methods are so popular today (lack of grammer, flow, structure, etc). These attempts at... uniqueness? Masking? Whatever, there are plenty of reasons... they show a lack of real ability. True ability, ultimately, is being able to take what is already available an make it your own in some way. It's definately not the "ability" to destroy any possibility a creation may have had to be something truly great.
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| TOO TIRED 2 SLEEP | August 12, 04 0558 |
moozik: tweaker - cauterized
My hair is filthy, my hands stink for the dirt beneath the fingernails, my thraot tastes like shit, the house is a mess, i'm covered in sweat, and i'm too fucking tired to sleep.
All i can hear in my head is piano music, tinkle tinkle plink plink plonk GODDAMNIT! I'm feeling... stressed out, but only as much as usual. I think it's commonly refered to as "mentally unstable". But shit, that doesn't matter. What DOES matter, however, is the fact that nothing i could ever write here would ever be of any value... if it struck you than sure, but it's mine, i spewed it, and you're stuck with that label. And truth be told, i'm a cunt.
So, hey, i hear you've been sitting on your fat ass doing nothing! Well good for you! Me too! Seriously, all i've done in these holidays is sleep, work, eat shit and jack off. Oh, and cuss a whole lot. Yeah, i noticed today i cuss a great deal in a certain mood. Other times, i prefer to speak in a far more civilised manner, and proceed to carefully choose my words... but that mood don't come much no more. 11 years ago, i was as well spoken as something that's really well spoken. But i gradually starting standing back and looking at myself, and the world... and with these receding steps, i fell and stumbled, but in the end, i got to see a far wider picture. The detail was fucked up, but that didn't matter. Or, doesn't matter.
Anywho, this is pretty much rambling. 'talkingclock' is the reigning diary now, a filter for all moods. From the swear-happy bastard, to the star-struck romantic. I gotta LOT of sides to me, oh yeah.
______________________________
UPDATE!
Mood swing, i think. I was looking briefly at the entries posted in 'talkingclock'. The most recent one ("what are you saying?") felt personal to me, and suited that mood. But with every click to the next entry, the images seemd more and more distant... but then another one would stroke me personally again... Of course, this makes sense. Every entry reflects another portion of a different mood, and some even clash with each other. Some seem sissy while others more powerful, but then, in an alternate mood, this feels reversed. Anyhay, i'm bored, so email me by clicking here, and relieve my boredom! Do it because i'm hunky! Oh yeah!
______________________________
The strange thing is (or, perhaps not), i'm not hunky. Ocassionally, i'll notice myself in the mirror and think -wow-. But this is only because i seem to have a low internal body image, and in reality i look far betetr than i'd expect. I'm not sure why my body image (and self esteem, too) is low. Granted, they're both much better compared to other people's, but they're still low. And i'm not sure why. This is all for now; i gotta clean up this place, take a shower, and clean my nails. Euch. How the hell can they get so filthy? I don't even go out! Oh yeah!
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| RE-INVENTED | August 6, 2004 |
Dammit! One of the worst feelings i know is that of having no fucking control over my own body.
Now, i would certainly not define myself as a control freak, or anything similar - if anything, i'd say i'm pretty much submissive. I'm a little bitch. Granted, i enjoy having vontrol over the smaller things - what i eat for lunch, what i'm doing on a saturday afternoon; you know, that kinda stuff. Hell, i can't stand role play in sex, wether i'm sub or dom.
But! One thing really ticks me off. One thing i have no control over whatsoever. And that is: my own body. I've got Tourettes Syndrome. I have no idea what that really means. I have a faint concept, and i know the little tidbits. It seems to be most widely believed to include fits of crazed cussing (as seen in movies). Yeah, that's not, as far as i know, actually terribly common. Hell, i may be wrong (plz cmnt if so). Anyway, i have Tourette's. I'd say i "suffer from" T.S., but it's not really bad, at all. It barely really shows up. At least, when i'm occupied, and i don't notice myself "ticking".
The "tics" are, for me, maainly head jerks, face grunges and eye movement. All facial stuff. Other stuff i either don't tend to notice, or it just don't happen. Anyway, this shit is really getting to me. 'Cause i'm just sitting here, then suddenly, i have to jerk my head to the left, and before i think about it, i do. It hurts a lot, and provokes headaches. God, it's hell when i've got a maigraine and nothing to keep me occupied.
So, i have these things that happen , stuff i know i gotta do, and without thought, i do them. Yeah, i know i just said that. And i know how stupid that can sound: ("Hey, y'know, if you don't want to to do it, then, like, don't do it, y'know?"). Well, that's perfectly easy for someone else to say. Yes, i know it sounds pathetic, illogical, and generally really really stoopid, but it's hell for me, so get the fuck off my back.
:) This post bought to you because of [toxicmonkey666] :)
I was considering deleting all the other entries (about 300 of 'em). But, that'd take a HELL of a long time. So, i'll say, i'm trying to re-invent this shit. As before, 'boy' shall serve as the moody tearful depressive fuck, 'talkingclock' can be as wierd as he/she/it wants, still living through the inspiration of others, and this will, hopefully, get some more entries. In the words of Zim: "Oh yeah!" (christmas episode)
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| | August 1, 2004 |
This journal is inactive.
Updates can be viewed in pretty picture format {here}, at 'talkingclock',
or stupid text format {here}, at 'boy'.
A word of advice: 'boy' sucks.
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| Is this.. an.. UPDATE?!?! (nah...) | 4:?am,wed28july.04 |
***** AN UPDATE?!?!? *****
'The End Of 'ANOTHER'
I can't write for long, since i'm feeling paranoid right now. Some time ago, i was forced to believe i was creating problems in matters that neither concerned me, nor were actually affected at all by me. All the same, i grew weary and eventually gave in, admitting with minimal reluctance that i was the source of all that is bad an unholy in the human universe. Being in this frame of mind, and being the kinbd of person who (i would like to think) attempts to destroy the problem at the roots, i began to search for causes of my influential behaviour (ie, the behaviour that was, supposedly, destroying an external realationship). Fortunately, though, i don't do an awful lot, so i had very little to alter; UNfortunately, I DON'T DO AN AWFUL LOT {mantra}, so the few things i was stubbing out were the only things that actually drove me in any way. Writing, drawing, computer habits, etc; i tried to completely reform myself. That's where this journal came into it. This was, back then, the largest, most important thing in my life. Having decided, as i mentioned, to change myself in every way i knew how, this was the first thing to go.
Life goes on...
On a general and personal note; i also took up new counselling sessions, for i was uder the almost programmed impression that i reqiured them. They actually did me no susbstantial amount of good, but did offer me a brief chance to sort my thoughts and confusions out in a noise-free, anxiety-free and blame-free environment. I found, i have issues with my mother, for her mummying attitude towards us (me+siblings), and her suicide attempts, as well as a small bunch of other stuff i can't remember at this point in time. Happily, i understood pretty much everything in terms of why i was feeling upset and such; the things i didn't understand were only devoid of 'understanding-by-me' because i hadn't decided to ponder on them, and have now since forgotten them.
The journal
I don't know what to do with this; probably since i haven't thought about it at all. I attempted, before beginning this short update, to 'cut down' on the number of entries in this log book of my thoughts. I deleted one single post, and even for that one, i instantly regretted it. This journal is presented to you in it's entirety, and with the exception of that one post, has been unedited (except, again, two posts before this one).
What's next???
Right now i'm off of school, so i'm pretty much enjoying the layed-back, easy side of life only us teenagers can take advantage of. I'm doodling every now and again, but since my scanner's busted, i cannot share them with you. However, i have slaughtered-and-rebuilt my sister journal, 'talkingclock', and it's developing now into a sort of graphic journal; a place for me to vent my emotions, thoughts and ponderings through a medium other than blunt, unfeeling, constructed words. I'm attempting to test any manner of style that overcomes me at any point, so what you see (if anything) does not (necessarily) stand for anything else in the journal.
'boy'
While 'talkingclock' is my sister journal, 'boy' was my brother journal. However, 'boy' was more of a brief experimental fling than a plan for a long-term relationship, and has since been left with a departure message. On the date of boy's deletion, the first page (of 12) had a total of 68 hits.
Anything, uhm, else...?
Yes. Relationships, and their compramise. I can handle comprimise [even if i can't spell the bloody word]. I can accept and alter things on my part, in favour of a partner. However, i cannot simply compramise and expect nothing at all back. While this may seem bliss for my partner, it's fucking hell for me. Since my counselling, cleansing and "re-birth" (in the most unholy sense possible), i've learnt to ask "what's in it for me?", instead of simply being dragged alongside a trial of self-involvement and one-way commitment. And, also, the entry-view-number (per page) has been decreased from 50 to 25, since i got sick and tired of the damn load, yet still want to leave this as readable as possible.
Now that i have finished typing, my paranoia is returning. Goodbye for now; you can contact me via the email on the "User info" page. Oh, well, you could simply leave a comment, but i'm 80% more likely to respond to email.
;p
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| a new one | 1708.Jul15.04 |
Apologies for the long load.
There are about 9 pages (if this is 1 of those 9) of writing here, with approximately 300 entries.
I'm updating this because it's been left in a very poor state. This entry is rambled but coherant. My reasons for departing this practice are my own, they are personal*. Simply put, i now longer intend to update this journal, but it still serves as a source of both personal experiences and opinions, AND as a source of good information and art.
If this journal was an archive of songs and music, the following would be the tracklist to a remix ep by a band called Thrust** (who, by the way, don't actually exist). The miniture album would be loved by many, but disgarded by the majority as it would sound like nothing they're used to. 5 years later, it would recieve a second listening and become a cult favourite (although, the earlier fans would disregard these newer fans, saying they're "not real fans").
1. ATTENTION CARVERS & SAD FACES (on CUTTING; thoughts, advice, etc)
2. AC/SF [outro/interlude] (continued thoughts)
3. SILENCE IS_ (on not talking)
4. RAZORBLADE STEREO (on forming a random poem)
5. CONVERSATION (an image of my face)
6. 0NTH3W4Y (small index of "landmarks")
It's been _x_x_x_ since i updated this journal. Please keep in mind, you who reads this now, that this journal is less like most other journals here; it began as an informative selection of thoughts, grew to be a self-indulgant collection of emotions and attachment, and dissolved into a sort of bank of numb-felt memories. The list of links above point to my favourite (and longest) entry here (track01, 'ac/sf'), as well as a few other entries that may be interesting if you're a sad mole-man with a bobble hat with a water pistol attatched.
There are two other journals of mine, both inactive (*although 'tc' may receieve a revamp soon): 'boy', and 'talkingclock'. Both are very, very different from what's contained here, and both are pretty much incoherant, even with the aid of this journal as a companion, AND full knowledge of every event surround the entries.
*Personal reasons: Reasons i do not care to explain. I neither care for demands.
*Thrust: If a group by this name exists, i am unaware of them. If you ever DO see a CD by a group of this name, please let me know.
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| Let It Be | thu27/5-1820-1 |
This was a leaving message, but i'm not sure i was ever really here. I no longer like the message, and it now been erased.
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want {grr}
| wed26/5-1634-2 |
If people were not selfish, they would decrease their chance at survival. I already knew that, but it pretty much sums up what just wrote (and erased). I was trying to think of the one thing i truly, truly want... i figured, perhaps a world where true love (as it's advertised) DID exist; a world where i could love and be loved equally. But, as i said, it all comes down to "it is so, for a reason".
And thank you consorship for showing me eroticism in all it's forbidden glory. Thank you TV ratings for telling me what movies i had to watch to be popular. Thank you mother (didja really think i'd miss her out?), and all the people who've ever said "i love you", for fooling me further into an illusion (i'm only saying this 'cause it's entirely my fault for allowing myself to listen, but i'd rather not admit that).
If i didn't know all this, i would be no happier. That's perhaps the most troubling thing of all; i'd only try to discover it all over again, as i did.
Not that i really know all that much: people are selfish... and that's pretty much it. Everything here is just aimless rambling of that point, venting feelings i may or may not have, and resentment to anybody i can acuse (and, as i said, a store for my memories).
There's a reason i think this way, y'know.
But i've already written that. But maybe that was private, or in another book. Eh, iono. I'll probably write about it soon anyway.
Oh; title header gone because it took away the truth behind this, plus, made it seem as though i have a single focused interest. I don't, i cna't hang on to one thing for long anyay.
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| typical (#grr) | WED-26/5 1539 1* |
Random reading, again:
It's still 15/f as the norm. The entries pretty much consist of "why is everybody this way [just like me]?", and, "why can't this world be a better place [for me]?".
I'm just the same (see?); self-indulgant and self-considerate, i won't deny it. There's no point. We have just as much worth as a dog, a fish, or an ant (although, maybe the ants are worth more). I never said that's a bad thing; if you presumed that, then, damn you, ya filthy bastard. You ARE NO BETTER than a dog, ya arrogant fuck. Oh, this is still to the one who believe themselves better than their pets. But it's not anymore.
I guess we just like to think we're worth me. I certainly like to think so. Can you deny that you do too? The only reason this is here is because it give me a feeling of purpose (as well as venting out frustrations & keeping a digital memory for me).
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| him | 25thMay 0018 2 |
So, this guy's being interviewed about wasting millions of public pounds on some space project. I was considering how the wisest response would have been to merely say "Ok, fair enough. Point considered; this is a waste of time and money."
But, he couldn't. He'd gone far beyond his point of no return, and simply could not turn back. Had he done so, he would have been shuned as a quitter, a coward, a man who couldn't stand for his beliefs. Of course, he woulnd't have looked such a moron... but that's irrelevant.
Doesn't this bear striking similarity to Jesus's situation? Or, is that just me? I mean, is there ever a point when a martyr can say, "y'know, maybe this AIN'T such a geat idea."
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| Process | 24thMay 2251 ? |
I want a lover, someone to lie with. I want... someone to talk to. Someone to talk to me! Talk to me?
When i was a child, i believed in a lot of things. Such as, spirits. I thought that, somewhere inside your body was your spirit. I learnt this from my mother. I spent so many hours pondering this, considering the whereabouts of my soul. But, y'know, it never occured that, perhaps, i didn't actually have a soul. If this had been suggested to me, i'd have rejected it, despite the imaculate sense it made. But, i refused to let go of my fantasy. If i lost my belief in that, i would've felt like everything i'd once believed ion was gone.
Well, i thought that'd be the case. Now, i guess i see everything as [case], [process], [response] (in human terms). I get hung up a lot on the process parts. Where as other people accept notions such as "love", "hate", "pain", and other responses, i know there's a reason for them. I saw a show today, a chat show, and asked my borther, "why is she crying?" He told me, "it's called human emotion". I'm still unsure why she was crying, though. Why the cause affected her so. To him, it was perfectly acceptable, but, to me, i knew there was something in between.
I'd like to think there's a difference between me and others, who lust to believe in something more, something complex. It's not that, for me; if something is, then it is, but there's still a reason behind it. Some things i can accept, such us the existence of the universe. But biological things have answers, and i;m inquisitive.
What's "The Meaning Of Life"?
Uhm, who ever said there was one..?
1:"Why won't he love me?"
2:"What do you mean by 'love'?"
1:"Uh... i don't know... it's just, love..."
I live every day to full effect. But, now i have to go, because my mother wants to use this console. Her selfishness is troubling.
I still need to talk to somebody.
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| luv | 24thMay 1723 4/7 |
I think i could seriously say i'm "in love" when i could turn my head and say "hit me, hard, in the face", and you'd do it.
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| Flash entries | 23rdMay 0245 4 [? |
SitD was down for me, so i wrote these in Flash, with my own handwriting font!! yay font!! There're a few gramatical errors and spelling errors, but the "moment" has gone now and editing them would destroy the spontenuity, and honesty, of them.
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| happy mood! | 23rdMay 1957 2 |
Y'know, i was in a good mood. Then it kinda failed. But i'm pushing for it again, i'm not that pathetic to give in. I will try, will get through this.
So, i was worrying about my mother. But here was no need for that, since, well, she either forgets everything then mopes around until she can drink, cries a whole bunch (with her music on... LIVING IN SOMEONE ELSE'S FUCKING FANTASY), or rambles away to anybody who speaks to her. She actually came up to my room yesterday... oh, hey, i drew a house map some time ago, i'll try and find it... 'cause she had to expel her shit. Meh, she's only human.
I was worried about my attatchment to Lucy, but, she's got her others, and it's too much effort living up to my name. I don't have a problem with being disposable, but volleyball with minds is just plain boring.
I really wanna get in touch with Katie ("the fat one"). I feel the need to remember, and i can't actually do it myself.
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| revenge | 23ndMay 0135 1 |
Why would this concern you? What possible motive could you ever have for seeking out your revenge? Nobody's ever wanted to hurt you for fuck's sake; it's just easier for them, than to actually care. Yes, you are selfish and self-centered, everything seems to revolve around you, but so is everybody else! What's another little scar on an old friend, a sibling or a lover matter to them anyway? What would it matter to you? Compassion and guilt are things we have to LEARN. Our primal instincts are only constructed for our own survival: maternal drive, fucking drive, and living drive. To nuture our own, to pro-create, and to survive. It's the same for anything else! The only reason you'd wanna hurt someone is to make YOURSELF feel better. It has NOTHING to do with the other person.
Think about this, you few who are reading this. Think about all the hate you think people have for you; hate's not even real! It's not a burning emotion buried within your soul, it's just your selfish self trying to associate your agression, fear, pain, etc, onto something/one you can direct your anger to/upon. Jeez!
finit:0143
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| Television Reflection Portrait | 22ndMay 2334 2 |
I skecthed myself from the reflection in the tv. I didn't draw the background in, mostly 'cause i'm lazy.
It's not poorly cropped, by the way. I didn't actually draw the entire. I was focusing more on the body. And how high my belly button appears to be.
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| Dream,3 | 22ndMay 2117 1 |
Another dream. Or, set of dreams. I remember two.
Truck races, i remember, and a dudd milk delivery van. Whatever the hell that was about. And me, but not me (a dream me) with a partner - lover, boyfriend, husband, i don't know, but we seemed close, yet distant, in a cold attatchment kinda way. Stopped (by cops?) on the way to what looked like Las Vegas, with all the pretty lights an night. Greeted my a guy (gay, i think), and a (straight) girl. We came over, i kissed my guy and over my shoulder the greeter-guy said, in a spoute of obvious observation, "he's gay". You know, like in real life "oh, he's gay, i can SO tell". The Gaydar thing (pun on "raydar"; saw in sitcom "some of my best friends"). Anyway, i motioned to him that i wasn't so sure, as he was greeting the girl. By girl, i mean female; in the sense of "guy & girl". I don't mean a literal 12 year old or anything. Anyway, there was obvious heat from him to her.
Next dream. I was visiting lucy, but when i arrived, she said it was too early. It was kinda cold and reluctant, and eager to dispatch me, but i'm not sure why. Anyway, i went walking... i don't remember much else. I wrote it down, but i left it upstairs. Wait, no i didn't.
Ok, i ended up in a house with an amazingly stunning girl... red head, i think, fiery temper, completely down-to-earth... and there was a hell of a lotta passion between the two of us. I'm talking raw sexual atittude here. She asked me about jacuzzi work for "pop art school". I said i wasn't from here, that i'd walked from Reading. Which is kinda wierd, since it'd take a damn long time to walk from here to Lucy's.
Anyway, neither of these were even half as vivid as the kiss from the night before. I wanna write more about it, but it's a tale that can only be told through my lips, not my hands.
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| Dream,2 | 21stMay 1822 3 |
Do other people feel dreams?
This is the second time that i remember feeling something in a dream. I mean, my mind stimulates itself to forge sensuality. I felt that vicotrian sex dream, the fucking, and this dream, the kiss. I can feel a memory upon my lips.
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| Uhm... | 21stMay 1524 2 |
I dreamed a dream, and then another dream.
A normal dream of standard life, with Lucy (3rd now), and another, of a theme park which had the potential to power the city. The car's headlights could only light up about 1/7 of the city.
I keep going to... but i don't wanna feel "priveleged". To be honest, i'm not sure i wanna "feel" at all, but that's a completely different matter.
Anyway, i painted my face yesterday, and took lots of photos, hehe. 'Stuck 'em in the usual place.
Lucy!!: I got your message just as i was halfway through the swirly borders. I'll stick it up now.
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| Something Inside, So Strong | 21stMay 1515 1 |
I can hear my mother's voice singing these words.
Labi Siffre - Something Inside So Strong
The higher you build your barriers
The taller I become
The farther you take my rights away
The faster I will run
You can deny me
You can decide to turn your face away
No matter, cos there's....
Something inside so strong
I know that I can make it
Tho' you're doing me wrong, so wrong
You thought that my pride was gone
Oh no, something inside so strong
Oh oh oh oh oh something inside so strong
The more you refuse to hear my voice
The louder I will sing
You hide behind walls of Jericho
Your lies will come tumbling
Deny my place in time
You squander wealth that's mine
My light will shine so brightly
It will blind you
Cos there's......
Something inside so strong
I know that I can make it
Tho' you're doing me wrong, so wrong
You thought that my pride was gone
Oh no, something inside so strong
Oh oh oh oh oh something inside so strong
Brothers and sisters
When they insist we're just not good enough
When we know better
Just look 'em in the eyes and say
I'm gonna do it anyway x 4
Something inside so strong
And I know that I can make it
Tho' you're doing me wrong, so wrong
You thought that my pride was gone
Oh no, something inside so strong
Oh oh oh oh oh something inside so strong
Brothers and sisters
When they insist we're just not enough
When we know better
Just look 'em in the eyes and say
I'm gonna do it anyway x 4
Because there's something inside so strong
And I know that I can make it
Tho' you're doing me, so wrong
Oh no, something inside so strong
Oh oh oh oh oh something inside so strong
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| Response (1) | 20thMay 1659 1 |
I have an exam in one week. Well, three. In a row. 3 hours straight of exams, yeah.
I was considering making this private. I figure, though, all the existing private entries are just incoherant ramblings. Like that "Response", and "#". Hey, everybody's online. I think they're all responses. But, then, perhaps everything on here is also a response? Things elsewhere that stimulate thoughts, etc, blah, but with the private entries, like with the talkingclock (if that didn't exists, the entries would be here, just the same, but private), they're indirect responses. Kindof, routed through imagined words of another soul. Or something. even though they're entirely mine.
I'm bored of writing this, i'm gonna finish reading the Sandman comics.
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| Response | 19thMay 1416 2 |
[Private Entry]
response
i need, and i know you'll cave
i need to feel strong, dominant, powerful
you gotta give me this, i feel like i'm losing my grip
temptation, i give you temptation!
take it already, how much more must i use?
i NEED it.
I NEED it.
I NEED IT.
ever cursing, internally manipulative,
want for something i'm not worth | | 5 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| bleep? | 19thMay 1318 1 |
The sun's shining, the weather's breezy, and feeling pretty damn great today. And i have tiramisu 'round my chops. Hehe.
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| PARASITE | 18thMay 2255 6ďż˝ |
[Private Entry]
and now we are one in everlasting peace we hope that you choke we hope that you choke we hope that you choke and now we are one in everlasting peace we hope that you choke we hope that you choke we hope that you choke and now we are one in everlasting peace we hope that you choke we hope that you choke we hope that you choke and now we are one in everlasting peace we hope that you choke we hope that you choke we hope that you choke
Kill yourself anyway. | | 1 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| Phone Call ( # ) | 18thMay 2203 5 |
[Private Entry]
Phone Call.
It's alan.
"YEAH."
"BEING TRUTHFUL, FOR ONCE."
"WHATEVER".
[HANG UP]
I've learnt so very much from her. | | 4 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| an entry | 18thMay 1831 4 |
Eugh. Sleepy. Feeling bored, agitated, agitated, agitated...
Being open to all this stuff means i'm open to all the stuff on the other end... I mean, in teaching myself to feel what i see other people feel, to lie to myself and forge hope and dreams and casual meaning, i've brung myself down to the level of all others. Before, i was in an "unelevated state"; i was neither up nor down, i was, as my psychology teacher Dr.Love (real name!) put it, "un-fucked by anything".
To be great in conversation, i've had to forfot my "un-fucked"-ness and start caring about myself more. Before, it wouldn't have bothered me to lie silently alone. Now, i gotta have something. It means i can relate to people; nobody else i know is pretty much emotionless. By that, i don't mean "dead"; i mean, neither happy nor sad. Now that i've become open to beauty and tears of joy, i've also become open to self-involved conversation and meaningless comfort.
Oh, and, three-way comfort? Yeah, i think i'll pass on that. I was trying to remember what that was. Mic did that, after i realised i had nobody; trailed me long, that was before i really SAW her. I ain't gonna "see" you, 'cause i see pretty much everything, and why is it i never have a problem when i ain't bothered up? Grr, and i write as i speak, it reflects with all the "ain't"s and the sloppy grammar and shit. I don't like holding one subject, so fuckin' sue me.
See, i have this calm side, a care-free side, uninfluenced by society, a truly free spirit. But, recently, i've had to supress that side for work, and a new side's coming out, or being forced out, whatever, and i don't like it. I know, i was going on about how much i wanna feel, but ya never know how much you have until it's gone, or, at least, dissapearing.
Lucy/Loucille: I don't wanna play with feelings. Normally, i'd say "feelings? feelings are nothing more than products of self indulgance, often associated with guilt, rarely ever for the better". Now, at this level, i can truly see things at your level. But, i'm gonna shut up completely on this subject, it just ain't right is all. Not while i'm dealing with this new (dis)intergration into society. I'm starting to believe in love, and hate, and it scares me, i'm getting SCARED, i don't get like that!! This just isn't me!! And i can't let it go away, else i'll get sacked.
I am better at conversation and people in general, though, in these new moods, i am more sympathetic, but not empathetic, not like before, not empathetic any more. Sounds like cheap poetry. I need music to drug my brain. I need drugs to music my brain.
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| Font (again) | 19thMay 1817 3 |
In case that last link refused to function, try this:
RAAAAAAAAH!!! (CLICK HERE)
upd8:(fixed link)
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| Font, 6, 7, 8 | 18thMay 1624 2 |
All this music seems to sound the same these days.
I'm gonna map out some lowercase for my handwriting font.
~~~
After 1 hour and 20 minutes, 3 different attempts to match the initial handwriting style and a whole lot of font contour editing and re-mapping, it's finally finished! Well, not yet, there're still loadsa symbols and stuff left to do, but, it's actually has lowercase!!.
Download: [here]
The font is pretty crappy, and you can tell it's all just traced, low-quality bitmaps. I'll probably make another one; one that doesn't have to be on an enormous pt. size to look anywhere close to half decent. The all-uppercase writing below looks kinda like that font, "nail scratch". Anyway, the stuff above actually looks lik emy oww handwriting, as if i wrote that passage and scanned it in. Heh, freaky. Oh, yeah, that's what my handwriting looks like, btw. And i changed the name, since it looks like my PENCIL writing, and not PEN writing, so the old name was innacurate.
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| Last Night | 18thMay 1529 1 |
I wrote a large amount of stuff last night, for this, but it didn't save. I'm kinda thankful to that fact, though, 'cause it was pretty musch just me being bitchy about anything and everything i could think of.
Anyway, i fell asleep with a smile, despite the cicumstances. I think, the last thing i did was kiss my mother on the head (x:"i'll be upstairs"). Oh, and sit and comfort eat with my crackers, then switch to my new Radiohead album (bought yesterday! ok computer!). I also bought Reqium For A Dream, which is a damn good movie, and well worth �7.
Part of that stuff i wrote.
It was all kindof a combination of deluded anger and scarmbled commen sense; interesting to read back to myself, but probably harmful to anybody else.
That was just an excuse to test out the font. Hehe.
It even has a li'l smiley, in place of the asterisk. =)
And, wow, i made a "boy" page yesterday.
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| :quote: | 17thMay 2038 3 |
You have to regard everything I say with suspicion - I may be trying to bullshit you, or I may just be bullshitting you inadvertantly.
-J. Wainwright
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| day is gone | 17thMay 2022 2 |
Every single moment of this day is gone.
I cannot snatch it back; it has completely dissapeared, and there's nothing i can do about it. This has occured to me many times before, but don't think i've ever mentioned it. I remembered while watching the seconds go by on a clock, and thinking about all the decisions we make. Because we do make decisions; from getting on the bus for work or shooting that extra hit, to drawing that line in your flesh or saying "i hate you".
And we never have them again.
You can tell i'm becoming what i was before, what i worked so damn hard to grow away from, because this scares me.
I'm in a completely mellow mood, doncha know, my eyes are drooped a little, my back, as usual, arched slightly, and my wrists poised above the keyboard as my fingers jitter across the keyboard. My eyes dart at the keys i'm about to press; i know where the keys are, but only realative to each other key.
My stomach goes completely flat if i stand up straight and tense.
I'm waiting for the dark, so i can savour my ice cream. I wrote a letter to Lucy; i must remember to scan/post it.
People ain't as scary if you imagine the skeleton beneath.
Seriously, try it.
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| 291=304=001 | 17thMay 1010 1 |
.everything i'd dreamed of (*being).
Out of school today; "study leave". Yay.
I should go into town, get my bank acount thing sorted out.
Should.
I should probably do a lot of things, too. Like studying, for instance. And not thinking so damn much. But it doesn't really matter what i do.
This journal has become a another book of companionship for a girl who can't stand to be one, muddled up with confused outlines of scrawling thoughts and no-doubt-bias opinions. "boy" doesn't exist anymore, except perhaps in the minds of those who knew me then, and talkingclock is even more confused than this. This is more of a magazine, while talkingclock is more of an art exhibition. That woul make "boy" an untidy love/hate note passed around class, or a billboard sign asking you if you even care that you're killing your children.
I asked her (her always seems to be my mother) once, a smililar question to that, and she laughed at me. Ah, she's taught me so very much.
Mother
To clear things up: Her name was Amy Stanford. She married my dad (Bloomfield) at a young age, and had me and my two brothers; Topher/17, K/16, and Bob(TPB)/12. They divorced, and she marrie Francis Kenneth Hyde, and spawned B(POdGe)(8). Now she's attatched to alan, they're engaged, been together over a year.
She was self-admitted to faremile [sp?], an institute for the emotionally unstable. Soon, the self-admittance became a "wecantletyougo". Sometime here, she attempted suicide; pills, i think. Me & my brothers (B wasn't born yet) stayed at my granny's house. I'm not sure what followed, because it's all fuzzy and hazy.
There was something after Francis (fran) when we all took a 6-or-so-month trip (with the intention of staying) to Kansas, 3 months she met a guy named Joe on the internet. I remember her demonstrating how big his "cock" was roumered to be in ASDA (shopping place), with a french breakstick to her mouth.
When we got back, she started non the FETISH scene; S/M, B&D, etc. She met Guy, a coke addict, but he was cool, i liked the smell of his place. After that was another fella, with long hair, although i think he may have come before guy, i don't remember. During Guy she met alan, whose name doesn not deserve capatilisation, like mine, and they hit it off. They "split-up" again last night, for similar reasons as his last woman. I do loathe relationship ownership.
Sometime in the last year, while i was still fucking mic (most-recent) and dreaming of love, i came home to my granny, who was holding little suicides notes to us all. Bob 'n' B's were badly written poetry that meant nothing to them, but mine and kyle's were different and personal. I think. I don't really remember mine, and i don't know what was on kyle's. She'd taken some pills; afterwards, she told us how alan had come to her rescue, but later still, she told me she'd phoned him.
She didn't even have the decency to kill herself completely. That's all i felt when i heard the notes and the feelings were meaningless. I think, that was one of the days when she died again to me. After every death, i patch myself up and allow the skin to grow back, over time, slowly but surely. Eventually, i think there'll just be too many scratches across my wound, and all the blood will come gushing out. Meh. All in Time.
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| bed in 10 | 16thMay 2250 7 |
Ah-ha!!!
Something clicks, a moment passes, and it occurs.
Jealousy, in this context: the association leads to an elevated feeling of self-worth. When the words mean someone else, the feeling plunges to deeper depths than before. This feeling is associated with a person (like fear, lust, anger, etc, are associated with bullies, lovers, parents, etc). In this case, the feeling of jealousy is associated with whomever was the intended object.
Would you ever wanna have to think like this?
In terms of skin/nerves/veins/fat/muscle/bone?
Human beans as machines, functioning for themselves only??
SOMEBODY PROVE ME WRONG, GODDAMN YOU!!
=p
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| ANDTHEENDISALLICANSEE | 16thMay 2244 6 |
Y'know, i could teach you everything.
Everything i've strived so hard to learn, to know, everything i've ever wanteds since i was a child. But, this was never what i wanted.
If i told you, i could tell you the meaning of life, but i'd have to kill you straight afterwards, would you still wanna know?
Bessides, it wouldn't be the same.
They'd just be my words, like these are, they mean nothing.
Learnt experience is the true wisdom,
not text book pills.
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| 289/matthew/endlessly | 16thMay 2242 5 |
there's a part in me you'll never know
the only thing i'll never show
it's plain to see it's trying to speak
cherished dreams forever asleep
but the moment never comes
lyrics:muse
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| 301_hangover | 16thMay 2230 4 |
WELL KNOW, that was jolly good fun, wh at?b ut nowy o uallhav e t goho me.
This is really #288, doncha know.
And i wanna feel the warm familiarity of my duvet again. And dream, and wake to dream again.
cmt: Explain why anyone gets jealous, and i can exaplain to you why i felt it back then, when i still associated.
txt: A feeling of presence, of being; knowing you rhaqnds had sealed the envelope placed you in my arms, and i held you(r words) in my arms and closed my eyes. I have no idea how long i lay there.
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| 300_fleshorgy | |
#300
I'll throw a party, in my mind,
and everyone's invited but all of you.
call me: (3 comments) | | | 18 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| Jealous | 16thMay 2201 2 |
But now, when i read, and this will make sense only to you, you being lucy; i shan't apologise to anybody else because it'd only be my way of dealing with my guily, you all still hold a special place in my heart, and i think of you, some more than others, the others know who you are, i think of you when i read through my list, i have to keep a list else i forget, but i wouldn't forget, i wouldn't forget.
The jealousy is merely a natural response to lack of attention... i think... but i can read, now, and associate, and there's no jealousy, although i think there probably should be, maybe, i'm not sure, i don't do emotions well, and i've finished my ice creamy!!!
"...your skin.."
I've read it, heard it, downloaded it like HIM/RS and saliva's always, and muse's album (which, if i can muster the cash, i shall have to purchase), i forgot my point.
I've never had romance, either
I wish you could know what you're giving me
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| DE-volving (??) | 16thMay 2127 1 |
The sheer vastness of it all is enough to make me cry, i haven't read you all yet.
(more soon)
She's split up with him, 3rd, fourth time, i don't count. She's in a shaky, vunerable but level-on-the-surface mood. 'Reminds me of me, with that note. I've lost it now, the note.
I'm changing. I decided i would, when told, last week, by the [email protected] [Kieran], i'd be sacked for being who i am. I still haven't read you yet, i'm too nervous, i need chocolate ice cream first, to calm me. I decided, i'll take in what i see around me. Ultimately, i've become less passive (himwithpower), more aggressive (alan), more forthcoming with my anger (mum), more honest about my negative feelings (dad), and generally a hell of a lot more selfish (everyone). Do you remember me telling you, about that, how conversation is the art of talking about yourself while pretending the other person's stuff matters? Well, i said, it's like two seperate speeches stuck together (the skill is in combining them).
She's thinking about him.
She's watching tv, and thinking about alan.
The honesty thing, from dad, is, i think, possbily the only good thing. Although, i'm pushing myself back into people's realities by conforming to what they do and such, which i guess is pretty cool, because it means, to people, that i'm "growing" and "developing". I'm being a better drone bitch. Good girl.
I dreamt a strange dream last night. The main thing was me being inside the body of a woman... not the usual biological stuff, but just while i was fucking whoever it was in the dream. Set in the times of wooden houses and J.Ripper.
I flee, top find cream that is iced and of chocolocylit, i still can't associate with your words on your pages, for the jealousy, the jealousy makes me crucial.
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| I'm demanding | 16th May, 2004 |
[Private Entry]
I want to know where you are.
I miss you and I'm demanding,
I wish I could slide my finger tips down your forearm
Over and over, just softly.
And avoid your eyes for a while.
But only a while.
I don't think I could for long.
I want to warp your mind,
I don't know why.
I want to change the way you think
To suit my sadistic desires.
I want to warp your mind,
And make you know that I'm the most beautiful girl in the world,
Not think,
Just know.
I could be the most beautiful girl if you wanted me to be.
I don't even have the right to be demanding,
Not with you.
But I suppose this goes to show
My affection
My desire
My obsession
With you and all of you.
Like you said, I don't
Just don't want to fuck you.
It wouldn't be right,
That's not what you're for. I can't see you like that
No matter how many times I close my eyes
And try to discover my imagination
(I know it's there somewhere
It comes to me in the night sometimes
When I'm in that insomniac state
Of near-non-almost-ohpleasegiveme-sleep.
That state).
But I sense that your skin is a wonder to behold
And your breath on my neck would be so beautiful.
And a kiss would be even more beyond words.
I like it when things are so beyond words that even the best writers can only describe them as being so wonderful that they are beyond words. It reminds me how wonderful some things are. 'Cause when you're on your own, as I am, everything seems so hollow sometimes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hope you don't mind the existence of this.
~~~~~~~~~~~HALF AN HOUR LATER~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Argh, and you're still not here, not even on the internet and this is just impossibly difficult, or at least it feels like it.
I want to talk to you so much. I don't know whether you understand it.
I don't know whether you understand
How I have a thirst for knowledge
And you can teach me,
Oh yes.
We know that already.
Whether the things you teach are good things or bad things,
I don't care.
But we both know that you can teach me things.
And would you like to make one of those things
A bite on the neck?
Or a kiss on the lips
Or hands tracing, tickling, down my back
To make me sigh.
Our arms and our legs,
They could entwine, you know
And be a romantic gesture.
I've never had romance
I wish I could know what I'm missing
And maybe you could show me?
But that's not all I want you for,
I promise.
I just want you to teach me,
Whatever you want.
I want to lie with you at night,
Listen to you breathe
And maybe whisper things to you
(The kind of things I would never usually trust my voice to carry,
Like words like these
And promises
And love
And forgiveness - but I offer you no forgiveness as there is nothing to forgive).
I know I would be afraid to fall asleep.
I would be scared that the moment would pass all too quickly
And that I would not be able to feel the warmth of you
And say things,
Or hear things,
Or maybe even kiss you if you let me
And you weren't disappointed from the first time I tried to make your heart beat faster.
(I always fear that kisses will be disappointing
Especially for the partner.)
Or maybe you would just let me lie with you
And you would sleep
You wouldn't have to be conscious, of course,
I could just lie there with you
Still and quiet
And smell your skin,
Feeling how soft it was
With my lips.
I could do that, if you want. While you don't know it's happening, so that you won't mind. I could be close to you without you knowing, if you want. But if you want to know then it's so much better.
I have done that before. Davey was distant after the sex once. So I waited 'til he fell asleep and then curled up against him, against his back. And I kissed his shoulder and smelt his skin and woke him up, asked the time and everything was alright again. But it was so lovely while it happened.
And it's like that Radiohead song, like I've said before (I don't know whether it's something you've read), skin can make you cry. And sometimes it's like Danny, it's just because it's beautiful outside, like me some days, when I'm just a fucking bitch, and sometimes it's beautiful, so fucking beautiful inside, like I can be and you can be (and how you seem to me).
I wonder, if it was dark, and you and I were together, would you still be able to see me in the same light as you do now?
I don't want to be a toy to you.
I want to lie with you in the dark.
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| Font, 2, 3, 4 | 15thMay 2313 4 |
Download: "Mr Topher's Handwriting" font.
It's only got uppercase (unjoined) and some gramatical functions (!?)(][./`'), but it's a work-in-progress.
I think i have to go to bed; finish watching NBK.
I'm working on this fantasy, i really, really am.
Soon, i may be ready.
~~~
Methinks, it's pretty damn obvious i have mental problems. I don't mean that in the sense most people use it, who don't have mental problems, but see them as fun and adventurous, ignoring the actuality of the facts. I foget me point, dammit.
~~~
I can't respect people who refuse to respect themselves.
To bed, i go! You know how to reach me if you need to, fly away, fly above the clouds, like a dolphin, a dolphine, with wings, and no need for oxygen, perhaps a spirit dolphin, or a piggy, a flying spirit piggy, fly flying spirit piggy, fly!!!
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| Truth Be Told | 15thMay 2033 3 |
Watching Red Dragon. Hehe.
I feel like... telling everybody in journal land all abou tmy insecurities and troubles, but i don't wanna spoil my existing fantasy.
I squeal. Wheeee!!
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| I'm Eating Chocolate!! | 15thMay 1955 2 |
I've been delving into a small tub of chocylocylocolate, very nice, it had chocolate bits in it, im eating them now, delishessness, oh yes.
No more choccybites left. I didn't finish watching NBK, so i have the green drug store (aloha) scene reacurring in my head.
I'm finding it increasingly difficult to get arroused; i just don't seem to see the fascination anymore.
People are telling me my views are flawed.
They're no offering any alternative though.
I'm unsure: are they feeling upset and insecure because of what i say, or, because i'm actually wrong.
If they would actually show me different, i could be sure. Grr, damn you, multiple persons who are confusing my head.
As i said, although i like to associate with your words, i see little sense in attatchnig myself to them; i only get upset and jealous when they don't actually refer to me. This prevents that. Grr again, i'm hairy on my head. And i have chocolocoloccylit around my chops.
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| Weeding | 15thMay 1127 1 |
I'm outside today, loading stuff into the car, to take to the tip. Oh, yay, oh yay.
I got your letters this morning.
I'll write more later.
Cemetery Pics!
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| Shaddup | 14thMay 2247 2 |
I wanna whisper a fairytale into your ear, so that you might follow me to bed and whisper me one back.
I'm going to bed, to watch my Natural Born Killers DVD for the fourth (?) time. I do love the direction in that movie. Y'know, if i was immortal, i may actually try and do something with my life. The Invader Zim episode's just finished downloading (after 3 1/2 hours), yay. I don't wanna sleep, because then i may dream, and dreams confuse my reality. I seem to recll memories in much the same way you would a dream (i remember this, from long ago). I also seem to recall dreams the same way, dissolving the boundry between what's inside my head, and what's actually outside. It's confusing. The dreams seem so close to life, and entirely possible.
The counsellor girl didn't like a lot of what i had to say. "And that's the way you see things?", "So that's your perception of it?", etc. Crossed her arms and legs a lot, didn't want to really take it in. That frustrated me, proving many small theories true, even more so. People like that bother me, because they make people, in general, a both to me.
My eyes feel sleepy; i think i'll just lie as i often do, pretendign i can hold you in my arms while gazing up at my painted black ceiling, imagining dotted stars of fiery gas, and lust to see their beauty again.
I wanna talk to someone who actually gives a shit.
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| Cemetery Walk | 14thMay 1721 1 |
Eugh, damn these words of mine.
You can't relate to me, you have no idea who i am, what i do, and most importanly, the things i've done.
I write more later. Happeeeeeeeeee!!
~~~
2034
I spoke to a counseller today. I'm not sure if it was at all good for me, because i went for a lovely walk afterwards, and found a really pretty cemetery. I took some photos, it was so beautiful. Than i had to go back to school, but i was still hapeeee, so it was all good.Blah, paragraph indent test.
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| Wrecking Ball | 13thMay 2232 6 |
Maybe this journal should be called "wreckingball".
Nothing i write will ever have any worth.
I should be able to see a counseller tomorrow. I have no idea how this will help. Perhaps they can tell me, it's completely normal to feel these things
DAMMIT!!!
Nothing can change this. Not cutting, not fucking, not sleeping, drinking, painting, drawing, nothing will ever change this. As i said, only happy when i'm dead.
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| thinking of you | 13thMay 2215 5 |
I'm dissasociating myself. This involves pretending i'm not interested in fantasy and fairytale, and severing my bonds and attachment with the people i hold as the players in my mind. It means, slicing away the actors of my special little theater plays and facing the truth. I already know the truth; i'm gonna die. I'm afraid of death. That goddamn survival drive. I suppose, i should thank it, for it keeps me alive. But, i see no point in beng alive. Two reasons, to tell the truth: maternal instinct/procreation, and self survival.
I hate that term. "Pet". Your dog, your house, your life, bullshit, you fucing control freak, fuck you.
It's not black and white, it's afro-american and caucasion. Why can;t i say black and white? Because that's racist, it makes a big deal of things. But it wasn't a big deal until you interupted me. Yes, but, we must think of the bigger picture.
What's the bigger picture? Bah, politics.
"I just wanna..." (support my insecurity). Television liers. Without "boy", i think my bitterness grows. I feel bitter. I feel like being alone, but, naturally, i also feel the need for company.
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| Untitled | 13thMay 2204 4 |
I draw fairy tales because if i didn't, i'd have to live in thr real world. I don't like the real world. It's full of things other people make their own, and i wan't what i want, not what omeone else wants. Which is the same attitude everybody else carries, and the reason the world is so.
Humans are selfish because it's the best method of survival. Today, we find it hard to accept selfishness, and rely on religious fantasies and elaborate explanations for small feelings.
I do not like to be selfish, because i've been taught it's not the way i should be. I think that's one of the many, many reasons i resent my mother. As i've said all too often, she is the cause of my lack of blindness to reality. I dislike unaltered vision. I don't like not being able to believe in truth.
I used to stare in wonder at the trees. Now, i see branches with nothing but history and inevitable death. I see no fascination in singers and movie stars; they're just "fortunate" people, they are no different than me inside (with the exception of, for instance, Dr. Stephen Hawking, but that's irrelevant).
As usual, i forgot my point.
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| Walking [more] | 13thMay 2041 3 |
I didn't walk yesterday, so i walked to school today. Then i walked as far out as possible at lunch time (1310), returned at 1445. My legs are still bloody achey.
I dreamt of Lucy last night. I think i was dreaming because i was reading about it yesterday, hence provoking a dream. It was pretty strange; i didn't like it at all. More of a nightmare, i think, but anyway.
The 'a' key is completely faded on this keyboard, as is the 'e' key, ans the 's' is just barely visible. I should clean it. I'm gonna clean my keyboard, now.
Did i mention, i like this wrist design thingy? I've always said, i wouldn't want a tattoo for both the reason that i couldn't stand to wear someone else's art on my body (for more in depth reasons than my arty arrogance), and, my moods always change far too much to display single icons of one mood. But, this patttern creates, for me, a great feeling of inner security.
There are scane of my wristydoodles here. I'd get a picture, but, the internet connection seems to disable itself when i switch a USB device (the scanner's in right now).
That is all.
(For now.)
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| Grar? | 13thMay 1900 2 |
I wrote this at 7pm, 55 minutes ago.
-
At 1900 (7), Kyle, my younger brother by a year (making him 16), comes on the computer to chat, read up stuff about WWE, and play various games. He comes off anywhere between 9pm and 2230.
Irrelivant information, much like absolutely everything here. I like to think up fairytales, like you do, because it's so much easier than living in the real world.
When i write "you", it's normally to either Lucy, or everybody (not the journal). Occasionally, it's to my mother, my father (nicky, signs here occasionally), or various other people i've met or seen. But pretty rarely.
As i said, i'm going now, since kyle must get on here, else his brain may explode into a magical mixture of mambo monkeys.
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| sum | 13thMay 1807 1 |
I drew this yesterday.
I started with the ball, at the top, and gradually drew down. You can actually see thr progression. I mean, if you realy look.
Today, i drew on my wrist. The doodle consumed about an hour of my time. I scanned my wrist (the outter side). It's very pretty, it looks pretty cool, too.
I think i wrote that quote out wrong:
"Self-painting is controlled self-mutilation".
I was watching a documentary about life for south-africans last night. It was very interesting. It made all the problems i've heard about seem absolutely miniscule and blown out of proportion. Yes, i've been through depression - i apparently still suffer from it, maybe i'm in denial, but i did have it really bad, once. It wasn't the kind where you waddle into your living room (aka tv room), sit down beside anyone who'll listen, and let out a long "siiiiigggghhh"; it wasn't need for attention, or loneliness, or whatever. That, to me, is completely different. Depression is biological, not in your mind. But, anyway.
I forgot my point. Meh.
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| froggie | 12thMay 2213 4 |
I wrote another entry about freaky coincedences and conspiracy. It didn't work. Spooky concidence, or opression conspiracy? Hmm...
Anyway, i tried to draw a frog today.
I have no idea how to draw a frog, by the way.
I'm not actually kidding on that coincedence/conpiracy thing. Oh, and, go here and write something. Pass:suchisthis.
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| deathdreams | 12thMay 1438 3 |
I thought this was interesting:
"There is good evidence the "light in the tunnel" type experience is due to oxygen starvation in neurons, as it only occurs with near-death experiences involving loss of oxygen."
Taken form here. The stuff following this link is completely irrelivant, but, interesting nonetheless.
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| Boem | 12thMay 1112s 2 |
beautiful guilt
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| 4 Later Reference | 12thMay 1056s 1 |
[Private Entry]
My body feels completely drained. As usual, my fingers are capable of tapper-tapper-tappering on the keys, i guess it's just a normal response or something. My muscels seem to ache, yet still have full functionality. I am not sleepy: my eyes are open and do not need to be closed, but when i do close them, i feel an effect similar to being high; a soft floating feeling, where my body feels completely imune to everything (a feeling of security?), and my body falls to a relaxed state of imobility.
My stomach feels a little sore and achey, like a very mild stomach ache. My joints, and in particular my wrists (probably because i'm putting strain on them to type), feel weighted down. It's an effort to realy move them at all.
I do not feel emotionally unstable, depressed, or upset about anything, as i normally would when feeling this. I felt the same, yesterday, up until lunch time (1310). Kat has just asked me to read something, and i jumped up with immediacy, and didn't notice, until i sat down, the complete lack of all this i've described above. I stood as if on impulse, but now, i feel as though i want to do nothing but sleep. But, my body doesn't feel ready for sleep yet, and, as i said, i am not at all sleepy. I do feel very sluggish, though, and i'm very curious as to where the sudden bout of energy came from. | | 1 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| SMACK | 11thMay 1818 3 |
Routine rolls on, and i roll off.
Later, pixy dudes.
~~~
"...pumped into our brains, we feed from their brands, melting into us a void."
Yes, just like your words.
It's only flesh, but we need out fantasies. We need out loves and loathes. Despite everything i think i know, i need them too.
I wonder, how much more will i add to this?
I think, the expression, "happy when i'm dead" fits will here.
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| fancy | 11thMay 1750 2 |
[Private Entry]
The private entries, the spread!
Like this infection. This sickness.
Bleh. I'm feeling an increasing lack of any vitality, and it's bringing me down. Not to drepression, just to the typical teenager level. Which bothers me, for obvious reasons.
I'm feeling stressed and upset. I feel as though i need some physical comfort. It's annoying. Grr.
This is private because it feels pathetic. | | 1 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| Making Me Once | 11thMay 1659 1 |
I have nothing to write. I have plenty of words in my mind, but, nothing to write. I'm writing because i prefer it to the alternative, which is not writing.
Eugh. I'm only doing this because i need output. Did i mention, i have a mild fear of needles? My reaction to one close to me skin (with the intention of piercing it) is similar to my reaction to a spider in my close proximity.
I signed out of school at 1320. I walked out, and turned left. After a small hill, i turned left again, then, again, at the end of that road. I spotted the no.111 bus, and wondered how far it went. So, i climbed the hill and walked. I walked until 1400, until i felt in my mind a reason to return. I walked back to school, and arrived at 1440. I walked for one hour and twenty minutes. I still didn't find out where the bus route ends. Maybe next time.
This morning i felt completely lethargic. I was like this until (euch, my legs are so skinny) lunch time, when i became suddenly hyperactive. I found that Charlie has OCD and ADD, and we laughed a lot about fading out of people's words, just before the actual bell for "lunch". Then i gathered my food and decided to start walking.
Lucy: i've sent you what i said i would. Plus one more, from last night. It sounds aggressive and ignorant, but i was just sleepy.
This feels like my life, subtitled.
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| gaahaa!! | 10thMay 2141 5 |
And i say my goodbyes, so she (mutha) says, i'll get on when this is finished. which is in twnty damn minutes.
I have swrily patterns in my head. And Vasquez in my mind. So, now, i fly.
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!
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| that one... | 10thMay 2024 4 |
A private entry, shown blatantly. I forgot to check that box, and now, a moment has passed in time where i am completely vunerable. Perhaps i did that intentionally? Any which way (whatever), this is either to inform you i've made a private entry, and so have something i want to hide but want oyu to see all the same, or, to alert you that the message you juts read was intended to be private. I think, a combination of the two.
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| .hctarcs a, hctarcs a | 10thMay 2010 3 |
[Private Entry]
This is private because i have something to say, but i want to tell nobody. Writing this gives me a feeling of comfort; that somebody's listening. Although i know nobody is, i still have this feeling, si i'll juts enjoy it, and say, fuck you, mr ass monkey.
I don't remember when, but i "cut" again. The entry: new toys i wanna try out. It was at the bottom, somewhere. While in the shower. I wanted a chance at some feeling. I think, it was worth it; the feeling was similar to that of an orgasm, but with more... i'm not sure. All those reasons a person cuts; that's what the was more of. Control, release of anger, et cetera, et cetera. The most recenbt masterbation session, last night, seemed so empty, and i'm wondering if, maybe, that's the reason. One before, though, was quite pleasantly self-undulgant.
I don't know where this is heading. But, while i'm here, i think i'll write some more.
Would it be a good idea to make this a private journal? Or, a "friends only"? Perhaps, i could use talkingclock, for personal, private thoughts. I can't encrypt them with prettiness, since i gave up "boy". Perhaps i don't need to expel anything? YEs, that would be pleasant. Time shall tell.
Every time i speak to her, to Lucy, i feel as though my words are dripping with loathe and poison, infecting her and making her hate me. I had't realised how low my self esteem was until recently. Something she said; are you always this self-conscious? Something like that. Oh, i do wish i could remember her words. Even her voice escapes me now. I hate being like this. I hate that people treat me like a fool if i don't tell them, and like a child (in stereotypical terms of inadequacy) if i do tell them. It's harder than most people could know. And, the most concerning thing is, i know i'm just the same, to others. I'm a hypocrite, and i don't know how to do anything about it. No counseller on Friday, which was rather a dissapointment. Nevermind. | | 3 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| Memory | 10thMay 1957 2 |
Dad. My father. Nicky. He comments here, ocassionaly.
I can refer to him directly, now, since my mother has decided i no longer have to lie to him about where i go at night. So very nice of her. It was too hard on her, she said, or something to that extent. Ugh.
He has a digital camcorder.
There's a video [here].
It's mine and his memory, and i don't expect it to mean anything to you. 'Told you i sound like a fuckin' snob.
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| Times and Times | 10thMay 1936 1 |
I took some photgraphs of people today. I recieved some strange looks. It's kinda funny, for some reason, to see people in theif metal comfort shells. One guy, even after looking directly at me, continued to delve even deeper into his nostril. People don't have to look at you when they're in their cars.
People. Yup. Vessels for memory. Much like animals; the animals that aren't slaughtered for our brief moments of lazy fulfillment are the ones with the largest memory capacities. I'd protest, but i know it wouldn't have any effect; it would merely make ME feel a little better.
I'm not sure if this is a bitter, or observant, mood. Regardless, i've had a pretty good day. The morning was, no doubt, the best part. I'm not sure which is the warmest... art exam, i should've taken a picture. Nevermind.
I'm sure i'm only gonna end up writing more here, but, for now, this is all. One more thing: FILLERBUNNY RAWX!
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| throw | 9thMay 2112 5 |
Here; you seem to like this.
A HREF: A Horny Referee Enjoys Fucking
(ah, who am i kidding. i love your compliments! ijust have to get past my defensive barrier, first)
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| donut | 9thMay 2300 4 |
We had a dartboard, hung upon a large wooden... uh, piece of wood. Or, compressed sawdust, whatever, anyway, her boyfriend/finance/meh was painting the walls (or, the wood border thingy) red. He also decided to paint a dog on the big dart-board-board. Then, he wrote the word "donut".
Lloyd wanted a journal, so i brang up the main sitD screen, and after a few "perhaps" names, he looked around the room, and declared "donut". I have many photos of you, lloyd!! Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!!
Yeah, i doubt he'll read this.
Ugh, 4 minutes overdue. Depart, i must, as must i, in this backward form of language, speak, Topher, mr, x~c.
Like i'm really gonna go. Not until she bangs on her wooden thingy from the other side of the room. Hmm, that's a lotta wood. I guess she likes wood.
AND WHY is it, compliments always make me feel more worthless? Oh, i can answre that one, too. Dammit.
Ah, she calls. Goodbye. I do hate leaving.
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| ponder | 9th May 2247 3 |
I'm beginning to wonder is, maybe, i subconsciously insert all these typos, for my own personal benefit. I had such a huge book of words in my mind today, but now i've forgotten them. Something about, people's objective in life, and how they actually don't have a single one, they (we) just walk around aimlessly, fillig themselves with what they think is collectors item branding, pretending like they don't know their marks will decay as they, too, die their death.
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| As if by MOO | 9thMay 2239 2 |
i LOVE magically appearing comments!
This was me, some two hours ago. I noticed my self in the body-high mirror at work today, and couldn't believe how 1) skinny i was, and 2) how fat i ain't. So, i tried to get a shot of me belly, so i could see for myself - it always looks fat when i look down on it.
I de-colourised the picture because i like that "old photo" effect, and also, because i dislike my filthy, pale complexion. And, because my teeth in that shot remind me of my mum's, when she was 'ickle. And thin.
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| because i wanna | 9thMay 2223 1 |
I wasn't going to write this down, but, i don't want to dissapoint you. That would be unfair, after all. To be honest, i'm not even entirely sure what is is i wanted to say; i'm feeling something, and since i'm still coming to grips with that idea, i can't yet tell what it is.
I've been given another two week probationary period at work. Apparently, i was already on one. I vaguely remember that. When i go into work, i put on my "All Wrapped Up For Christmas" t-shirt (since they won't order me an up to date one), wipe away any misfortunes i may have experienced prior to that time, and paint across my face an enthustiastic, enormous smile. Then i was up in his office - the one who's worked to gain power over me - and, i think, i made him rather confused. Because, despite my inhuman appearence, i am completely human. I doubt he was prepared for that. I revealed to him the reason i had to have repeated, clear orders, and why i have little initiative - ADD and general learnt dependancy - and i smiled inside, as his perception shattered. On the outside, of course, i shook as i told. But it's always difficult to comprehend any differentation t the norm, unless you can actually see it - for instance, with Downs Syndrome, or a stereotypical drooling drone.
So, i may be kicked out of work because i'm a freak. You're not a freak, he said, but i feel like it, and he had no reply. I know what a "freak" is, and, i am a freak. I confessed i don't like talking about it a lot; people view me far too differently. Hey, watch out, he's part retarded.
It upsets me that i have absolutely no control over this. It's feeling, though, and that's comforting. Now i'm just wating for the other end of the spectrum to glow. I doubt it will, in the 29 minutes i have left in this written world of joined-up characters and attention craving ramblings.
But call mu up, knock at my door, and i will greet you with a smile. Not because i'm a lier, but, i CAN feel happy for people. I'm not sure why i could never cry to somebody's face. I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing though.
The blissful ignorance is the once where you notice neither happy nor sad, and hence, stay in a bubble state that could never be expanded, or burst. For some people, the bubble grows below the surface; here, they become trapped in depression. For others, it grow above the clouds, and they have the permenant ability to preserve their happiness. For the blissfully ignorant, their bubble remains still, on the surface.
I do like it when you read through my comments. It makes me feel less obsessive when i read through yours. Why is it, nothing ever feels worth doing when you're alone? Oh, hey, i can answer that one...
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| Tyops | May9th 0227am 4 |
I like my typos, so, nyah to you.
They remind me i'm human.
I think this is the best mood/state-of-mind to catch me in. My 2AM mood. Well, 0235 now, but that's unecessary detail. This is the mood for subtle kisses and movie snuggles. It's also the mood for steady, deep conversations, and making love.
. The thought of all that pink flesh and that dirty blood-filled organ, coupled with the rememberance of all the smells... euch. Dammit, media eroticism. Yeah, i remember things by smell, as i cannot seem to remember facts.
Anyway, goodnight all; i have to get up for work tomorrow. I know, i'll enjoy it when i get there. What i really wanna do, though, is go to bed with... somebody... just so i can hold them close and kiss their throat.
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| should be annoyed..? | 8thMay 0150am 3? |
I've just lost a rather lengthy and heartfelt entry. Kinda ironic, beause i wrote about my seeming lack of hightened feelings of emotion: now, i know i should be agitated, but, i don't feel at all bothered. I would have done, before. Before when i am unsure, but i remember a time, before, when i would have got extremely angry.
I think, this may be what's kept inside of me. This mellow, easy person with no major mood fluctuations. I know, when i seem to be feeling a lot of emotion, i feel like i'm keeping something held inside of me, as if someone's locked away within.
I also wrote about my apparent acting ability, and how i dislike songs that tell of love and hate, since they only seem to be explanations for smaller, more confusing emotions. And i admitted, despite all i could say, i DO want disallusions of love.
I do like a little feeling every now and again. It reminds me i'm human. Maybe, i'm more human than most, though, and while they're wrapped up in what they think they're feeling, i'm lying back and listening to Pearl Jam's Ten album, juts because it's a beautiful, flowing recording, and enjoying the fact that i have life, and that i have the ability to make the most out of it. Not by becoming what media and society dubs as "successful", but, by simply enjoying myself.
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| smileygrr | May 8, 2004 |
(smiley,xGRRRR+exclamation-marks-aplenty)
Listyblah: Radiohead, "Fast Track", "Trans Atlantic Drawl"
Oh, i am happy, indeedy i am, because of, because, of and yay!
So, i fell asleep with a smile across my lips, only to dream of visiting the same person who gave me reason to smile. I don't remember the last dream i had, before that. Of course, immediate reaction was, oh god how stupid why did i do that you're gonna hate me know, and i don't know why that was, but, i am smiley again, 'cause, uhm, i forgot what i was rambling about. Anyway, yay!!
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| waiting4 | 8thMay 1959 2? |
i want it to be night again.
so much prettier at night.
once punched a hole right through my wall
my skin is still scarred
tiny; barely noticeable
when drunk
only ever been in one real fight anyway
but after my other door
the plastic one
mysteriously got slashed and trampled
i've since been denied something
to shut out all the other interferance.
oh well.
my fingers smell of brine and suprisingly,
i've not had a single crumpet, hot or cold, today.
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| the best of | 8thMay 1417--1 |
A face, a mask, a shell, a body, to carry me across, the waves, the ocean, to you, in my box, tidy little box, in my box, tidy little box.
Break it down, down, break it, smash it, hurt it, but don't...
�������������������a tidy little box,
�(CHORUS)����������in my box,
read,
thirty-two pages of self indulgance,
weep,
boxes of books,
stamped+printed.
come and get me(stop)i'm a lier, i'm a lier, a filthy fuckin lier
i'm a flyer, i'm a flyer, you can't stop me getting higher
i'm so high, i'm so high, i can touch your bright blue sky,
i'm inside, i'm inside, but still i only lie
...
but,
but what?
(shhh)
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| but,still,now, | 7thMay 2249 1(star) |
for ever, again
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| sk(in2) | |
i don't mean to hurt you. i never did.
i need someone to show me.
one step ahead: +
goodnight, for another day.
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| (10 comments) | | | 40 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| U [ungraded] | wed05may19021* |
My age defines me, right?
It gives me right to either abuse myself or be abused by others. Tell me i'm wrong.
In less than a year, i shall be classified as an adult. This is not because i have reached my maturity. It is for other "adults" to distinguish me from those they don't need to talk to. Tell the difference from the children, yes?
I want some physical comfort. I do not know what i dewserve. I no neither what i want. Hope, perhaps. A faith that has not been stitched together through thousands of years of moderation. That would be nice.
The hand that feeds me, the hand i hate. I wouldn't hate it if i could hurt it. But i can't, as it's mine.
Can anybody say "goth"?
Stereotypes. Another method of society's segrigation. I cannot go into politics; while i dislike much, i have no better method.
(interlude.break.sigh)
I'm rapidly growing to hate this woman.
I need comfort food.
Yes, i'm slipping away, so fuck you.
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| 'nite | tue may02 2256 4 |
I've removed the background image.
I do not like it's warmth.
It's patronising to me.
Please, if you care to speak, speak to me.
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| dead | tue may02 2238 3 |
Muse's "Screenager" always reminds me of
- I WONDER IF SHE REALISES, HER WORDS MAKE ME WANT TO RIP OUT MY OWN THROAT AND DROWN ON MY OWN BLOOD, JUST TO ESCAPE HER VOICE? -
way back in Kansas. My grandparents came to stay, and i was put in the "long room". If i held myself hard against one wall, i could stand. The ceiling sloped down, to the point where i couldn't even kneel against the other wall. I could barely climb into bed. I resorted to sleeping on the floor. The light switch was far down along the passage (which was about two rooms length), so i mostly kept the lights loose in their sockets (there were four, dotted along the wall), tightening them or loosening them depending on wether or not i wanted to be blinded by their unbelievable brightness. Later on, i recieved blacklight bulbs as a gift, from my mother, which was rather nice. It meant i could fall asleep with the light on. Keep in mind, this was a completely enclosed room, so there were no windows. When i switched off the lights at the switch, i had to clamber across all the clutter contained in the miniture chamber in complete darkness. I took a liking to candles around this time.
This was after my ~severe~ depression stage. After i'd tried the stuff i wrote in today's letter. My "friends" list is growing to be rather substantial... i check your journal when i notice you online, or when you comment to me. Often, though, i'll browse through my list and find people i've not visited in a while. these are normally the people who update infrequently.
How does this read? I realise this is quite a bit of text; i wonder how many people are still reading this. I'm sorry; drawing into myself. Thank you, for reading this.
In the car, on the journey to school: she's smoking. She always does, when she enters the car. How can she expect me to respect her when she does this to herself? Even when i smoked, for that breif moment of time, i didn't expect anybody to respect me any more than i respect myself. Why must she be so special? Fuckin' human traits.
I wonder: if she had a different childhood, would i be writing this? Would it be a message of hope? She was abused, throughout her life. I cannot reconstruct her past in my head, though: it's a mixture of "tell and i'll hurt her" and one-night stands. An endless string of relationships is all i can be certain of. I suppose, at least i can offer myself an explanation for her behaviour.
I should finish writing this, because i must find a disc on which i can burn these files. I need music to escape to, throughout the day.
I also have a new set of toys i want to try out.
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| Rock Chick Survey | tue may04 1801 3 |
Which Rock Chick Are You?
Oh, very cool.
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| Enya, Slipknot, Self Mutilation | tues may04 1629 2 |
I'll start with a quote i like:
"Body art is controlled self mutilation".
Spent most of my day listening to Enigma (Voyeguer & LSD), and Enya (Watermark).
Slipknot. Haven't listened to them in a loooong time.
"I can't control my shakes!
How the hell did I get here?
Something about this, so very wrong
I have to laugh out loud, I wish I didn't like this
Is it a dream or a memory?" (~~Wait And Bleed)
Unlike the others who say it, i actually meant it. "Trust me, it's not worth it". I know this. I'm not fucking retarded, thank you. Your words of reassurance are misdirected; anybody speaking this must first come to terms with it themselves, before they can speak to other people about it.
"Yeah, i tried it once, it was stupid. I don't understand why someone would do that to themselves".
Then find out, before you criticise. It's not as easy to pass through as you may like to think.
Sitting, staring blankly at the blade, gently twisting the handle, enough to make a pinprick mark. Considering, what's it like?This is nothing similar.
Routinely slicing your body without explanation, out of boredom, or sexual gratification. This is shameful, and creates the stereotype of the "goth cutter".
Breaking down and crying. Feeling lost in anguish and despair. Searching for all methods of escape. Seeking counselling, medication, any other form of help. Last resort. That is what it's about.
I doubt this has enough coherancy to mean anything to anybody. But, all the same, fuck you ya fuckin' monkey likka.
=)
x~c
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| Ain't Gonna Do It | tue may04 1600 1* |
I wrote a letter today.
But i ain't gonna post it.
And i have pictures.
But i ain't gonna post 'em.
"Billie Jean" is on VH1-Classic.
Do people consider Micheal Jackson to be black or white?
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| (1 comments) | | | 9 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| Survey from dazednconfused | mon may03 1813 5 |
Short version, stolen from Krystal.
______Your Life_______
[x] they call me: chris.
[x] sex: geeza
[x] my first breath of air: oct12th, '86, 1 inute to midnight
[x] status: still human
[x] occupation: student, 1st yr sixth form
[x] best friend: n/a
_______Rewind_______
[x] most memorable memory: n/a
[x] worst?: when i got mum's suicide note to me(she's still alive now though, btw)
[x] first word uttered: baaer
[x] first best friend ever!?: n/a
_______Love?_______
[x] love is: unfortunately, either maternal, or untrue
[x] first love: n/a
[x] love or lust?: lust. i think. iono, try me!
[x] best love song: Love Theme (Braveheart Score) / Kissing You IUnstrumental (Des'Ree, Romeo & Juliet Score)
[x] when love hurts, you: love doesn't hurt me. since when should love hurt???
[x] true or false: all you need is love: nope. all you need is faith.
[x] is there such thing as love at first sight?: nope. that's lust. 'cept maternal instinct, of course.
______Opposite Sex_______
[x] turn ons: confidence, confidence, confidence.
[x] do your parent's opinion on your bf/gf matter to you?: yeah. but, if i listened every time, i'd never learn for myself.
[x] what kinda hair style?: meh?
[x] the sweetest thing a member of the opposite sex can do for you?: honesty: "i want you for sex", or, "i want you for comfort", etc.
[x] where do you go to meet new people?: i don't.
[x] are you the type of person to HOLLER and ask for numbers?: ain't hollering shouting? yeah, whatever. i don't ask for numbers, but i'd give mine out.
_______Picky Picky_______
[x] dog or cat: neither. if necessary, cat; less shit.
[x] short or long hair: whatever. i've had all sorts.
[x] sunshine or rain: rain, definately. That's not me being all stereotypical "goth"; i'd just rather go into hypthermia than boil to death.
[x] moon or sun: moon. although, the sun's necessary for the moon's effect, so, reluctantly, sun.
[x] hugs or kisses: depends on mood!
[x] 1 best friend or 10 acquaintances: i don't think i'm very good with "best friends".
[x] summer or winter: winter
[x] written letters or e-mails: letters!!
I may add to this. Krystal's version's far lengthier.
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| sleeping | mon may03 1506 4 |
Mum & alan are asleep on the couch, beside me.
As they breathe and writhe, i am reminded just how human they are
And how simple is is to be "human".
I'm gonna use the last photo shot on them.
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| THR33 | 1409/3 1457 |
These words; they do not feel mine. They feel constructed and organised, which i am not. They lack the emotion i would like to convey in them. They feel empty and meaningless.
I feel like writing a story. I'm not gonna, though.
Instead, i'll find something else of interest on this "internet" thingy.
~~
For those who don't know, i have two other journals. One is "boy", the other is "talkingclock".
When i read them, it's like i'm reading someone else, not me. The stuff in boy; it feels amazing, and i feel envious to thr writer, for being able to conjour up so much feeling. But, the writer is me!
And talkingclock. The last thing i wrote is just plain... well, i don't even know. It doesn't feel like me, but i know it is.
These are sides of me i still don't realise i have. When i look at myself, i see a dependant, immature, horny self-obsessed teenager. These two journals are not by that part of me; this one is, but they are not. They're completely different to this. Occasionally, i "get into" different moods, and i write, here, as i would in them. That's when what i wanna say doesn't fit in either journal. I think i did that more before i had talkingclock. But, that is unimportant.
When i read, or, seldomly, write, in the other two, i see a strong, indepandant, wise character. I know that's the real me, the side of me that i try so hard to be.
I know, this is a little incoherant. It's an attempt at an explanation, but it's still turning sour.
I suppose, though, they are equally distributed; if it was different, i would be either too "deep", or too "shallow". It just feels so strange to know that, inside of me, there is a great writer, a brilliant artist, a unique person. On the outside, though, i still feel pathetic. Another.
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| link | mon may02 1239 2 |
I know this is boring.
I didn't say you have to read it.
There's some valuable stuff in here, though.
Meanwhile, go here.
Here's an interesting thought: did i write this, or paste it? Is anything here mine?
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| DIRT | mon may03 1250 1* |
Bank Holiday Monday today.
So, it turned out, he wasn't picking his nose; he was merely eating the dirt from underneath his fingernails. Well, he may have been picking blah, but now he's just munching grime.
Which is more disgusting??
Hey, "another" is an anagram for "on earth", and "no hater".
And, "talkingclock" can be reconstructed to "kill gnat cock".
Finally, "anothertalkingclockboy" can be made into "the only backtracking loo".
Since i still have no-one to do, here's a list of interestng questions, courtesy of Crazy Thoughts:
1) Why are the commercials for cable companies on cable but not on regular television? Don't they want the people without cable to buy the cable?
2) Why do you go �back and forth� to town if you really must go forth before you go back?
3) Why do companies offer you "free gifts"? Since when has a gift NOT been
free?
4) When French people swear do they say pardon my English?
5) If a criminal turns himself in, should he get the reward money?
6) If your plan is having no plan, do you have a plan?
7) If you have x-ray vision, and you can see through anything, wouldn't you see through everything and actually see nothing?
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| toy | sun may02 2158 6 |
I used to have a toy figure of the Headless Horseman.
The one on his own, not the one with the horse.
Back in Kansas.
Back "then".
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| drink | sun may02 2123 5 |
Why would i drink alcahol? I'm already out of touch with my own actions.. Why would i want to distance myself even further?
Ah, see, weed, though, weed is good. Weed doesn't take over my body. In fact, it makes me rather... flacid?
Wow, Sleepy Hollow, on now, Channel 4!!
But alcahol, unlike dope, "makes" me do things i wouldn't normally do. I've grown rather accustomed to staring into space and becoming immersed within my own thoughts (Johnny Depp looks so young!!), and rather enjoy a further detatchment. I don't, however, enjoy losing control over my actions. Reactions? Reactions are fine, couldn't care less. The stuff i ~don't~ do doesn't bother me any. The stuff i DO do, though, does bother me.
He's so geeky! I just saw him in From Hell again, yesterday. Wierd comparison; the two characters seem toatally different!
I saw a poster of that singer guy from HIM (i think his name's Ville, but i could just be reading stuff incorrectly) today. I was strangely compelled, in a sexual way, to his half-naked cardboard body. This disorientates me, and, hence, bothers me also. I've never (really) felt such a compulsion ('cept that one dream [detail in talkingclock somewhere]), since Doug (Kansas boy, mentioned here somewhere).
It's 2136 now, and my legs are still achey from run-walking into town, then standing around at tills and such for so damn long.
I'm eating Jamaican Ginger Cake now, and it's 2138.
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| Holy shit! | sun may02 2038 4 |
I really cannot believe this.
I mean, i knew i had ADD; i had no idea what it involved! I've always leaned to towards the OCD (Obsessional Compulsive) and TS (Tourette's). I've only glimpsed on the surface of ADD.
But, as i mentioned in my previous post, i wanted to find out more about it... so i did... and this was (i think) the first thing i found. It's simply amazing.
Reading it, i felt more in tune with myself then i've ever felt before. That short list of questions was/is, perhaps, the most personal thing i've ever read. It describes so much of the things i've tried so hard, before, to describe.
I yam HAPPEEEEEEEEE!!!
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| | sun may02 2021 3 |
Apparently, that's what i am.
My primary "VALS" type is Striver,
and my secondary type is Believer.
The primary "VALS" type represents my dominant approach to life.
The secondary classification represents a particular emphasis i give to my dominant approach.
I dislike these results.
I feel they are the complete opposite to what i think i really am.
I don't understand how these results came to be.
Perhaps, i checked the opposite boxes? Hey, that would explain it...
Hence, i would be a "Thinker",
and an Achiever.
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| Brother Superior? No.... | sun may02 1924 2 |
I realised, it's not so much waddling. The way i walk, i mean. I think it's more "trudging". A kind of waddle that utilises as much momentum as i can muster. My hair bounces as i trudge. I have a spot of red oil paint in my hair. People stare; it makes them feel superior.
I was superoir. Not so much above, actually, so yes, that's a lie. I was equal.
I always find it entertaining, the McDonalds highschool drop-out cashiers serving me, after wandering 'round school not too long ago, holding their necks as high as they could, trying so hard to show how "bad" they are. I could describe exactly what "bad" is (or, was, last time i asked), but then i'd have to get into group labelling, which bothers me.
But, i am not like them. When i work, i don not smile because a list of rules says it is mandatory to do so; i smile, converse and laugh because i want to. I go as fast as i see fit, and i have no "troublesome cusatomers", since, they are all the same. Some use a friendly tone, while others, a rather unecessarily bitchy one, but i know who they are, an what they are, and they are no greater than i am.
These are not, i assure you, egotistic ramblings of another teenager. These are simply words that i've decided to put together, not just because i can, but because i enjoy doing so. I am not saying, and hope i never shall say, that i am above the people i "serve". If you see that, you have misread. I am saying, they are no better than i, and i, no better than they.
Is it wrong that i still have difficulty remembering all the little details? And the large ones, at that. Seriously; i have no idea what the "norm" is, in terms of memory ability. Is it normal for a teenager of about 17 years of human experience to have to actually reconstruct time events, linking memory landmarks (Alan's till bloody at it...) just to remember what they did about 2 hours ago? It could be part of the ADD, i don't know, io'll have to look into it.
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| My day, so far... | sun may02 1749 1 |
I woke up at 8 in the morning today. I have no idea why. 10 minutes before my alarm started beep-beep-beeping. Hmm, wierd.
I stayed in bed for a while, then got up at about 10 to nine... took a cold shower (shiver-shiver!), shaved, got dressed... yeah, i missed the 30-minute marker. Flushed mum wih guilt; she took me halfway into town and dumped me (had to get K to school for some Sunday revision thingy). Jeez, Alan's picking his nose behind me. He's 40-something, for fuck's sake. Euch.
So, i recieved a phone call yesterday; a girl asked me to come in at 10 in the morning, today, for some new till training (we've bumped up to touch-screen (Oh, yay)). But, after i'd run-walked the rest of the way into town, limped in muscle-strained pain to the store, and struggled up the stairs (perhaps some minor emphesis on the strain i took...), i found that nobody was actually expecting me. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Si, i ended up re-aligning cards for quite some time. I Eventually got my training, and ended up on a till. Blah blah blah, blah blah blah-blah blah.
I was told i wasn't meant to be there, and had to leave, at 1600 (4pm) (2 hours ago). By then, i'd already worked 2 hours overtime (incl. training) with no break. I don't often tak my break on my miniscule 4-hour sunday shift anyway.
I'm bored of this now. It's 1810, and i'm hungry for something to make my tummy warm.
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| ONE (of many) | sat may01 1932 1* |
(breathe)
'Been on all day. Reading the past; counting every word. Too slowly? #135. Must go now (mum sez). Up to me bedroom, yeah. You know how to get to me. My hands feel cold. I should take a shower.
Considering stuff, though, stuff i wanna write. Stuff about urges. I'm gradually losing interest in sex and such. It's only flesh, for fuck's sake. Oh, yay, firm arse, i really couldn't care less. Big breasts, good for you. Large mounds of flesh really don't turn me on, but cheers all the same.
Thoughts spawned from television. Humans parading their shells around as if they're worth something to somebody else. Well, i suppose they are... at least, the shells are.
What ~does~ turn me on? In truth, unfortunately, everything you'd expect. Everything i've learned to lust. This fact i detest. What i want, though? Hmm. Someone who can admit, they aren't a miracle. Egomaniacs bother me. Someone who can admit, they enjoy comfort, and will want me, until they find a better; that'd be just fine. All else is a lie anyway. It's not what i want: i want perfection, love, eternal bond, etc, etc, but these are things which exist solely to make you feel better. Of course i want hope. I'm just too... stupid? To accept it? Or, too full of my own wisdom? I'm not ignorant enough, is all. This i know.
(x)
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[Private Entry]
beautiful you, still.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Slip inside the eye of your mind
don't you know you might find
a better place to play?
You say that you've never been
But all the things that you've seen
Slowly fade away
So I'll start a revolution from my bed
'Cause you said the brains I had went to my head
step outside,
Summer time's in bloom
Stand up beside the fireplace
TAKE THAT LOOK FROM OFF YOUR FACE
'Cause you ain't ever gonna burn my heart out.
Eh, I used to listen to that song a lot at one time.
I wish I could slip inside your mind and find somewhere to play.
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| More Mindless Ramblings! Yay! | fri apr30 2203 6 |
I keep reading you. I've gotta stop. I'm not supposed to be like this.
Ah, cookie! And it's only 12 days out of date. Uhm, 15, sorry. Only 15 days out of date. I think i'll share these =D...
My movies, on terrstrial television, in my bedroom, at night, with you beside me, although not in reality of course, but i an still hold you all the same, in my mind, saving all of this for you, and... i'm rambling.
Well, goodnight all. 07746239261 if ya need me; watching "The Bunker", and computer's being noisy.
x ~c
No credit for voicemail or returning txts, mind. I'd only use up phone credits if i had any anyway. Waste of money, in my case; could be spent on something more valuable. I can't think of anything that would actually have any decent use, other than, perhaps, an elixer of life; everything else would, essentially, be unnecessary... well, depending on your definition, that is. This one, the one i refer to now, states that nothing is truly necessary; since life isn't necessary (for us...), nothing within our life is necessary either.
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| here =) | apr30 2134 5 |
Remember this?
I love "elle"'s comment on this. It makes it even more perfect than i could have ever constructed.
��"Do you believe theres a difference between 'love' and 'in love'?:
��i think 'love' is too vastly applied; i'd have to have it narrowed down a little more. 'in love', though, is brinkering obsession, while 'love' can be applied universally."
Obsession? Is that when you count the seconds between the meetings, when your mind is constanlty, but pleasantly, completely consumed? When all other feeling disappears, other than those associated with...
Hmm.
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| POM | apr30 2125 4 |
Damn, it's been ages since i listened to Puddle of Mudd...
Wow. I forgot how much i love this album. I'm hhhhyper.
Alan's here. Yay.
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| (sk)IN | apr30 1955 3 |
i love the feeling of slipping into your skin, and knowing you're in mine.
i have oil paint in my hair.
and on my arms.
and on my hands.
and on my face.
and on my neck.
but you're in my mind.
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| Hotkeys [N2S] | apr30 1849 2 |
N2S = Note to Self
[1] = another
[2] = boy
[3] = lucy
[4] = preferences
[5] = new entry
[6] = talkingclock
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| Untitalablishes | apr30 1611 1* |
Listening to: Satie - Gymnopedie No1
I made a mask, today. I found some cardboard (had some left over from the tiny paper-puppet theater i made earlier today), and cut it out, into a larger-than-human sized face. Then, i held it to my face, and with an orange oil pastel lined with my facial features, i drew eye, mouth, and nose lines. Then i marked the features through to the other side, with a stanley knife, then cut out the eye holes, larger than they should be.
I positioned a mirror at my second desk (the large one that i've claimed; my work set is too vast to be kept upon one confined table, yet too dimensional to be hung on any wall), held the frame to my face, and began painting. I looked through the eye holes, into the mirror, as covered my new face in finger-painted oils.
Something was missing... i fetched one of your letters from out of my coat pocket (reading them in morning reg. & psych 1st period), and taped it to the mirror, poem face. Then i finished.
Of course, it looked appalling when i looked at it normally, away from the eye holes, showing equal art talent to that of a five year old, but that ain't what matters.
What matters is, i love it. I love painting, i love making stuff, i love using my hands, and my initiative.
Listening to: Prince & The Revolution - Take Me With You
(The only problem is, eventually we have to say goodbye.)
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| inevitable | apr29 2337 8 |
I would take you, wherever you dare
And yes, of course, i'd hold you there
Whisper to you, how much i'd care
When tears are all; sea land and air
That feeling inside, forged just for you
That is my feeling, but you share it too
That is our feeling, just for us two
(And something else that rhymes with "moo")
Snatch a kiss? I daren't.
For you?
...
(anything.)
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| Returning | apr29 2224 7 |
And, i'm back. I'm cold, i need a hug.
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| genuinely happy! | apr29 2207 6 |
i don't to be alone right now. i wanna share this, with all of you. i want reach out to your hearts, and grasp you , and captivate you. i wanna be the piano that makes you cry with joy, even though you have no idea why you're crying.
i am happy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
mum looks up at me. watching "reality tv". drags me in. and i'm not happy any more. my face drops. pulls me down, back, away from my happy universe. back to her world. just because she wants some company.
now i need to cry. she's shattered me. she has no idea. no more joy, no happiness: another shattered hope.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Suck in my gut. Withdraw to myself. Can't do it. Why'd she have to..????
She's still talking to me. Not even to me. Just talking. I can't remember that world, that joy; such a brief moment away... but it's gone.
It's gone. And i'm crying.
I had a hope! I had it, i my grasp! I held it in my hand! I was actually happy! And it's gone! Again!!
Why can't we live with our fantasies? Damn religions, it's another thing to call it real. But to know a fantasy is all i want, to feel alive again. I don't want a lie, a "God", someone to give me unrequited love. I want to have my own damn world, not one written on someone else's pages. So long as you don't lie to me. I know it's not real... i just need it, so bad.
And i was so close! But, everbody knows, these never last forever. People just can't let alone. And i'm left alone.
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| dammit! (DETAIL) | apr29 1918 5 |
Haha! Yay! Painting detail!
This is pretty much the exact same size as the real thing.
Here's the full (double size of above) version (click here)
Bu-bye now; kyle's turn.
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| dammit! (oilpuppet) | apr29 1912 4 |
This came out really poorly, which is a shame. Please, keep in mind, it was just a quick thing to pass the time, and jades completely in comparison to my bigger pieces.
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| after crumpets | apr29 1756 3 |
'Only problem is, people want perfection. I want you to love me, and hold me in your arms forever. You want me to be yours, and never stray.
But, is just doesn't work like that. This isn't human biology, it's airytale fantasy. It's upsetting, but true. Goddamnit.
I've never really been able to accept something, unless i know the full reason for it. This has got me into a lot of trouble over my years, manily with "authority figures" who see themselves above me, and use this as an excuse to perform otherwise questionable actions.
I guess it all started when i really noticed how different i was from all the other kids. They didn't make wierd face movements and involantary head jerks. I got told off for it a lot, but, thankfully, never picked on. If i was, i've repressed it, and so don't remember. Not that i'd remember it anyway, but all the same...
And then, when i started to feel really really bad inside myself, for no reason. I mean, i could see my life was good and stuff, but i felt lost and empty.
Then, i started getting the urge to hurt myself, and even, occasionally, the urge to kill myself.
I also wondered why i couldn't pay attention; why everybody else seemed to be able to at least put effort into interest, yet i lacked completely any sort of interest altogether.
And the obssesions, and the feeling and sniffing stuff...
Damn, that's a lot, and i feel like i'm barely touching the tip of the iceberg.
So, there're a couple of reasons why i feel the need to explain everything. Basically, because, an inquisitive nature has developed in me; now, when people ask "what's with all the spitting*?" I can say, "Tourette's Syndrome. It's basically involantary "tics"; actions on impulse that "have" to be let out, else i feel like my head shall explode."
[*i've recently overcome this one]
Or, if they say, "why can't you pay attention??" I can say, "i have Attention Deficit Disorder, which basically means, my attention span is physiologically impaired" (note, i have ADD/WO, NOT ADHD, which is Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder).
I've also been disgnosed with OCD, but i know very little about this.
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| afterthought | apr29 1719 2 |
I have a scalpel blade in my pocket, from piercing the gum paper on my puppet.
I wrote:
"I tried to be perfect. Once, for a girl; the most recent one. I don't know why; just to 'be' perfect. I wanted to be perfect for her, be ideal."
I really did try to be perfect. I based everything i did on everything i ever knew. Eventually, i realised i was nothing but another boyfriend (i was her "first" (first fuck), but she's never actually been single for as long as she knew). And that i was nothing more to her than a source of reliability. Her father liked to tell me how much he hated me (she was his only kid, which kinda explained why so was/is so... "eugh"). I don't rememebr why i went to her... i was with someone else at the time; i think it was very much a repeat performance of Jen. I'll have to ask (the one before the one i'm talking of now).
There're a lot of reasons i lack as much hope as so many others. And there're loadsa reasons for "another", too, but i ain't gonna go into all of 'em, 'cause, i don't feel like it, and i wanna go 'round his, 'cause i feel like i miss him (even though i normally end up on his computer)(but i've got this computer right here, so that can't be it). I miss his company.
I don't like using names here, but if you want to know, i'll write it someplace else.
Didja know, the average (uk) person spends �6,000 on weeed?
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| PaintingThePuppet*2 | apr29 1712 1* |
Although this one's numbered 226, it's actually only number 213, due to loadsa post deletion. Damn; that's 13 deleted entries. And i've only ever deleted 1, 'cause it was a bullshit one about religion and stuff.
I really stink of oil paint. I've been working, again, all day ('cept 1 hour, when i had Psych). Yesterday, i spent all day (ok, slight exageration...) painting a puppet. So, today, i made the thing, then painted it, too. Only a flat thing; a wire frame with gum paper wrapped around it (to paint on, and make it less 2-dimensional).
Meanwhile, i spent some half an hour (although, recalling, it was more like an hour, but it doesn't look like it) painting another, tiny, puppet picture.
I'm painting an awful lot lately. I really, really enjoy it. It's such a great "release".
And i've got paint all over my fingers. Acrylic and oil. And glue. And the sting of hand-folded wire. Owie.
Anyway, i'm distracting myself from the overwhelming feeling i recieved when i logged in today.
Oh, i took a photo of my larger painting, but i can't afford to develop it yet. Damn. And, i brought the little puppet painting home, but it's not dried. It probably wont be until tomorrow. Double damn.
I'm'a go get me some crumpets. Yummy yummy yum yum. In case it wasn't obvious, Lucy, i'm speechless (in the sense that all i can manage is mindless waffling). Thank you.
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| A Message | 28th April, 2004. |
[Private Entry]
I have no right to do this, but I'm doing it anyway.
You don't need to be "perfect", Chris. You are ideal. I think you are ideal, in your imperfections.
It makes me sad that I can't even begin to explain how much you mean to me, and surely to others if to me.
I'm sorry that I can't explain. I'm sorry that I can't make things better for you. A lyric:
If I could I would shrink myself, sink through your skin to your blood cells, remove whatever makes you hurt; but I am too weak to be your cure.
It fits, even if it is not my words. I should sing my own more often. But it's easy to hide in other people's. I'm doing it right now, I suppose. 'Cause people will see this and they'll think that you wrote it and that you're hiding it. I don't have to tell you to feel free to delete it because you most probably will. I just didn't want to leave you a long, broken comment that everyone else could pick up on. I know, I'm paranoid.
When I sit in my English lessons, you know what I (usually) think about? I think about this diary. I think about all the little things that make up you, and who you are, and every tiny little dedication that you have ever given me. And when I think about those dedications I wonder whether I am worth them. Do I deserve them? Maybe I do deserve them.
I wish I could give you the same back. But no matter how much I ever wrote, I could never be as good as you, and things would never carry as much weight.
I wrote something for you tonight, on top of a hill, and it's so poorly written and explained that I've decided not to send it.
I hate the way I feel like I need to tart everything up just so that I can feel secure enough to let you read it.
Anyway, I must go to bed. I may carry this on another time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Would you hug me?
And would you hold me there?
And would you whisper something in my ear?
And would you care if I cried for you?
And do you ever get that feeling in your stomach, like I do, when you read something like this?
And would you kiss me, even if it was just once?
Would you kiss me, and would you do it for me?
Would you kiss me so that I could show you what you're missing?
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
And will eventually come before the kiss?
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| striving (time b4) | apr28 2318 11 |
The last for tonight.
I tried to be perfect. Once, for a girl; the most recent one. I don't know why; just to 'be' perfect. I wanted to be perfect for her, be ideal.
More later? Doubtful.
Godnight, all faithful listener.
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| Losing Faith [R] | apr28 2146 9 |
Part 1 (private)
Part 2
Part 3
I don't like that one being inaccesable. I want somebody to slap me in the face, snap me out of it. But i know i'd only reject them.
I like numbering these posts, only to find that i'm one behind. It grants me a sort of feeling of accomplishment. But, it also adds to the feeling of the inacomplishable; nothing i ever do could ever, in my eyes, be complete. It's pretty upsetting.
Part 4?
And some entries are meaningless (to you). And others, they mean so much (to me). And others, you see yourself in them, and they mean something to you.
I still have hope, though. I still wanna believe in love, i still want faith. I want to be ignorant. This end is always indefinate.
~~~
Update: I saw my duvet on E4's Wife Swap! Yay!!!
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| Splash! [linkend] | apr28 2115 8 |
You can stop a linkage by writing {/a} (where "{" stands for triangulated brackets). Like this entry title (look at the the entry list!). I don't know the relevancy of this, but i just thought it was interesting.
I want to take you, wrap you up in a little bow, and keep you in my pocket for ever and ever. Not even that, in fact. Just that image of taking you with me, holding you to myself. My memory's too bad otherwise. I dislike the greedy tone of this. I feel inspired. Poetry in my mind. Is all. I don't want you with me, i want you to run free, and fill me all the more.
Bad Girls is on. I do enjoy this show.
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| flowing | apr28 2033 7 |
There're days when i wonder if you care,
If you ever really look at all
If you take my hand and guide me there
Then something that rhymes with "ball".
Stuff on my mind, as is always. Loadsa stuff to say, but... how to say it? Speak, let it out, write it down and reconstruct. Only problem is, o don't work like that. I don't think, write, read. I write, read, think. Like Francis Bacon said: "I'm not gifted, just receptive". Although that doesn't apply, that's still how it works. It just kinda 'happens'.
It seems a lot of my inspirations are very much like this. And they're all considered gifted.
Fuckin' computer's going all loud and grrrrrrrrr-clikc-click-click.
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| i scream for... | apr28 1930 6 |
Yum yum, dinner. Watching Rikki Lake. Oh, yay.
Now... ice cream! Maybe. Probably not. Just orange squash then. Yup. Oh well.
People that complain about "the system" yet offer/suggest no actual alternative(s) greatly bother me.
Hmm. Bored now. Find... fooood!
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| (2 comments) | | | 20 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| Kienholz | apr28 1841 5 |
So, i scanned/found a bunch of pictures of some of the Kineholzes' work. I stashed 'em here: http://public.fotki.com/anotherchris/kienholz/
Yeah, i'm feeling too lazy to bother with full links.
So, painting with Kittie (from lloyd), Evenascence (from mic), REM (lloyd again) and Romeo&Juliet Volume2 (the score)(internet). I should get a picture of that painting. Just for Lucy (yeah, you get an "a href", AND a <b>).
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| ~freak~ [??] | apr28 1718 4 |
Cold crumpets don't taste so good.
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| (9 comments) | | | 35 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| PaintingThePuppet | apr28 1715 3 |
I've been introduced to Kittie (the band). Hmm.
I painted a puppet today! Only A3 size. Pretty oil picture. I liked the outline, but more was necessary. I had to work on red sugar paper, which was made difficult by my choise to only use the primary colours - RED, yellow and blue.
I painted the highlights (Y), then the mid-tone (R), then the shadow (B). Then highlights again. Then more shadow. Then more mid. Then more highlights. Then more mid. Then shadow.
Somewhere in there, i painted a background, which, although i started half-way through, wasn't finished until the very end. I'm not sure -just- how many times i repainted the picture (with full RYB colour)... maybe 5 times, i think. It took me some 1 1/2 hours (my back = owie!), but it was worth it in the end.
I'm hungry for crumpets. Yum yum. I'm also hungry for both physical and mental comfort.
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| question? | apr28 1615 2 |
Does anybody read all these?
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| popup window testing | apr28 1159(s) 1* |
There's a bunch of script already in the section of these journal pages. There's also stuff to hide/show DIV layers (for the "Find Diary" box). This entry is just a test entry; fiddling with various code parts.
Standard Popup (Customizable height & width): (boy)
This window will have a status bar and scrollbars, but nothing else (unresizable, no menu bar, etc.).
The script (for make a popup window) is as follows:
<a href="javascript:openWin('URL-HERE', WIDTH, HEIGHT)">LINK-TEXT</a>
Width and height, obviously, stand for the popup window width and height. The one above is 480 by 600.
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| (3 comments) | | | 18 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| hiding | apr27 2247 8 |
If i hide my face, she can know i'm not here. She knows i am, but if i try, and can withdraw. Detatch myself from her television, from her complaints ("'cause it makes me feel better"). So long as i avoid her gaze, if i captivate myself, then she'll ignore me. Unnotice me. She's done it all before.
She gets home and my music is playing. I ask her how it went - she'd use it on me otherwise - and she tells me all she can squeeze out. When she's done, she turns on the t.v., then calls up her boyfriend. Oh, i'm sorry, her "man". Said only so by her, keep in mind. Finishes up, when she's told him all she can squeeze out, and he's done the same. Light a ciggerette. Turn up the television, obviously.
I'm going upstairs. To my room. Where i shall not be poisened. I'd say i'm going to bed, but i will surely watch a movie or two. But, i'm not. I will, instead, sit. And tap. Move my hands and channel these merges of letters.
I am not gifted; i am merely a medium of thought.
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| (0 comments) | | | 14 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| long ago. as always. | apr27 2236 7 |
And she sits, and she writes. This is set to the sound of a broken acoustic guitar. The strings are plucked with the perfect precision, yet, never will there be the perfect sound. She writes in skipped paragraphs, brushing off topics and moving on, gasping in excess to the delishess relish. Something she can sprinkle on herself; something comforting. Don't get me wrong: she's not an indecent person. She's just as any other you may find. Of course, should you care to try, you'll find those still striving with hope - trying to be, for the sake of being.
How do you make the words feel? Is it all simply in the readers mind, is there anything you could ever write to depict a tear? Once, i wrote something through tears, soemthing so full of meaning, the ink could have bled from the paper. It was passed on, passed off, passed away. The other - the one designed for pity, constructed of false lines and delicately constructed syllabuls - that was the one that could raise a tear, catch a mood.
As always, there should be more to this. But i'm feeling... oh, this is no place for that. Feeling is something felt in one, and seen by another. Besides, the tapping of my keys is blocking out her song.
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| (0 comments) | | | 25 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| LOSING FAITH... | apr27 2212 6 |
[Private Entry]
When I was seven, i prayed. Yeah, me. I prayed, to God. I prayed that "my mummy could be better" (she was in an institue). I prayed to stop all the violence and hate. I prayed not to hurt, i prayed not to cry. I prayed to be somebody else, somebody stronger. I prayed a lot. And i sang; i sang the hymns. I thought, if i sang for Him, he'd listen. All i really wanted was for her to get better.
Don't you just hate it when you're sitting there, flowing, then everything around you hits you? And you just need to scream? And you cry, but it doesn't work, it doesn't help, you just cry some more, but nodody can hear you, and nobody wants to hear you, because they're crying too...
I thought He wanted to hear me. He never answered. She never got better. I suppose, the drugs do help. I'm still the same boy i always was, i still see violence - which is, understandably, very difficult to alter, and thus can be struck out. I don't cry often, but when i do, i cry alone. I've lost my hymn voice, and i sing only in a small voice, a soothing voice, a light voice. A hurt voice. How can i have faith?
I've lost my religion, and i feelm as though i've lost all my hope.
Ignorance is bliss. How i lust to be ignorant. | | 16 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| �!�!�!�!�!�!�!�!�!�!�� | apr27 1927 5 |
moo?
(created by lollipopcards.com)
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| (9 comments) | | | 37 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| a thought (one of many) | apr27 1917 4 |
I'm gonna go take a shower. But first...
I think, perhaps, the only people who can TRULY say "beauty is on the inside" (and have a partner, etc) would have to be bisexual. All others are obviously heavily influenced, no matter what they say, by apearances. Although, even for bi's that could be applied... Ah, ~ASEXUAL~. That would be perfect. But, a bi (what's the plural for "bi"? "bies"??) could still speak it true.
Anyway, SHOWER!! I do love shaving. I think it's 'cause i'm all smooth and kissable afterwards. I mean, if you ignore the filthy acne. Yeah, i'm sexy really, you know you wan me. Words of the insecure? Hell no, words of radiating passion! Oh yes!
=)
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| (1 comments) | | | 16 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| bands | apr27 1755 3 |
"Do you listen to any bands that you'd be ashamed to admit to listening to?:
not that i can think of. korn, manson, nin, 'cause of applicable stereotypes."
So, yeah. Continuiing on from that last one: It's not so much being labelled that really bothers me. Stupid people need to catagorise, or it gets copnfusing. And, i know, i've catagorised, but i don't think i've actually applied any of them.
It's really just the association that gets to me. I mean, the typical goth, based on my experience, is an attention slut who believes "goth" is a state of dress, and how much eye liner can be applied. If it was applied as it was formed, when the ankh still stood for something, then i'd be quite alright with being slotted in here. Even though i don't think i'd be "gothic" anyway.
Basically, adopting stereotypes makes them larger. "Punk", for instance, is no longer a form of rebellion and anti-conformity; it's almost completely a labelled conformity itself now.
Even "anti-conformity" has turned sour, becoming anti-label for seemingly every teenager. Anti-label is still a form of conformity, yet so many people seem blind to this. Still, let them believe what they will. You've got a nice big journal to rant in, anyway, so let them destroy themselves. I know, i lost my point again. Just makin' it up as i go along now... hmm...
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| (4 comments) | | | 15 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| growly-moo | apr27 1710 2 |
I wrote:
"Do you listen to any bands that you'd be ashamed to admit to listening to?:
not that i can think of. korn, manson, nin, 'cause of applicable stereotypes."
I've been thinking about this.
But before i start on abou that, i wanna say, it ain't the thought itself that ever really counts, it's the -amount- of thought that counts. Oh, and, spongebob squarepants rules your nostril.
Anyway. Uhm. I'm hungry.
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| (2 comments) | | | 18 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| old poetry | apr27 1452 1* |
I wrote this quite some time ago. It was the first time i'd ever referred to myself as "another". Written over a year ago, i think; my comprehension of time is far from perfect, so i cannot be sure of even any rough date.
- I'm only another
- On a bleak, poisoned earth
- But i guess there's no feeling
- So what am i worth?
- Tread down my body
- Burn out my heart
- I'll smile, don't worry
- Just tear me apart
- It's not like i feel
- Not with my wall
- I'm just here to help
- Pick you up when you fall
It was originally in sections, but looked far too conventional and segregated. I didn't like that; its supposed to be me, and i do not come in chunks. I come, perhaps, in different chapters, on different days, in different moods and at different times, but i am not chunked.
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| (3 comments) | | | 24 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| ďż˝ | ďż˝ |
too warm to be boy, but just as empty. the fireplace is here, embers are present, and while the fire burns ferociously, no flames lick your neck. no worries.
i put my arms around her memory, and bask in the radiance. light from their mouth, blood from their eyes, but no dirt underneath their fingernails. not this one. this one is pure as blue, and as precious as your own. perfection comes at the price of full vision, but worry not; each new time is diiferent anyway. right? she knows you could never lie to her, anyway.
this one is mine. this one is mind.
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| (1 comments) | | | 36 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| moobah | apr26-2215 |
I need a shower.
I wrote this on my arm (as i do most othr things i must remember). It's a quote by Marc Chagall.
��"I don't understad them, they are not iterature, they are arrangements of literature that obsess me."
Tomorrow:
"You're so often a happy person that your down days can be truly disturbing to others. Enjoy your good moods, but don't ever try and put a smiley face on just to please somebody -- no one is worth that sacrifice."
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| (0 comments) | | | 14 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| 3rd survey!!! | apr26-2154 |
| Basics | | Name:: | mr. C. C. N. Topher. | | Age:: | seventeen, oh yeah. or, something. | | Height:: | 5"10? | | Hair Color:: | aurbon. or however you spell that. people = jealous :p | | Eye Color:: | no idea. | | School Life | | What's your school's mascot?: | oh, yeah, like. | | School color(s)?: | we have some; i just don't know what they are. my school colours are purple, blue and black, with the ocassionaly green, orange and crimson. | | G.P.A.?: | W.T.F.? | | Who is your favorite teacher?: | mr.G, english. and missD, psych. and mrLOVE, psych. mr.C's cool. mr. WALKER's a fuckin shit hole. MR.D's pretty cool, and i love my art teachers. | | What do they teach?: | Eng, Psych, Psych, ICT, ICT, Eng, Art | | Is this your favorite class?: | uhm, which one? i enjoy all but ICT, which i'm dropping. | | Internet | | Do you use any instant messengers?: | yeah, very infrequently. | | If so, which ones?: | yahoo, msn, used to use aol | | About how many hours a day do you spend online?: | way too many? uhm, on average, 1600-1920 (3/20), 2110-2300 (2). That's about five and a half. | | Do you have a digital camera?: | nope, but i want one. might buy one with this month's salary. | | If so, do you post pictures of yourself online?: | i would, but not because i'm vain; just because i look great. | | Music | | Do you play any instruments?: | nope | | If so, what one(s)?: | n/a | | 3 Favorite Genres Of Music:: | wha? i'm "cultered"; electic. | | 3 Favorite Bands:: | no preferences. right now, Poison and Prince. | | Do you go to concerts and/or shows?: | heh, nah. one, in my life, and that was a school thing, late at night. oooh, spooky. | | What is the most you've ever spent on a concert/show?: | n/a, again | | What is the least you've ever spent?: | boooo-maaa-kaaa-yiiii-plara-fica-kazax | | Do you think buying merch at a concert then wearing it there is corny?: | nah, not all all. if it fits, wear it. i love my second-hand band t-shirts. luv 'em. you can't -buy- shit like this any more. | | Do you listen to any bands that you'd be ashamed to admit to listening to?: | not that i can think of. korn, manson, nin, 'cause of applicable stereotypes | | Did you notice the grammatical error in question 29?: | which was #29? | | Word Association | | Blue:: | baby | | Camera:: | clcikity-click | | Boy:: | boy. no capitals for the boy. | | Pretty:: | fake smile, glitter, pink (conventional) | | Pants:: | Bob | | Music:: | =) | | God:: | i wanna meet him. see what he really has to say. | | Sweater:: | hot shit, yo'. | | Live Journal:: | nirvana unplugged / 15yr-old | | MTV:: | gonzo. plarg. | | Labels: | | Do you think labels are dumb?: | nah | | Why or why not?: | they tell you the iron temp and stuff. they = good! labels like adidas and band names and stuff, though, are just perstering, and encourage society segregation. | | What do people label you as?: | what, social labels? oh, i getcha. a mosher, a goth, a freak, "creepy", gay... the usual. i never have any idea why, and when i ask, they can't tell me, and threaten me. | | How/Why did you get this label?: | which one? goth=black coat that keeps my butt warm, mosher=??? i still have no idea. oh, long hair, i think. freak & creepy 'cause i'm different and hence scary. no room left! | | Which Is Worse? | | Physical Pain/Emotional Pain?: | both can scar and traumatise; i can't answer. | | Blink-182/Good Charlotte?: | can't judge. i'd say blink-182, form what i've actually heard. | | Being Deaf/Being Blind?: | both have major disadvatages, and advatages over each other. | | Being Bored/Rushing around because you have too much to do?: | bored, 'cause i'll find something i can handle to do. | | Losing your dominant leg/Losing your dominant arm?: | leg. couldn't not write, paint and draw. that'd be way harder than using a wheelchair. although, it has it's drawbacks... i couldn't say, again. | | Love | | Do you believe theres a difference between "love" and "in love"?: | i think "love" is too vastly applied; i'd have to have it narrowed down a little more. "in love", though, is brinkering obsession, while "love" can be applied universally. | | Is it better to have loved and lossed than to have never loved at all?: | oh, hell no. ignorance is bliss. | | Are you romantic?: | uhm, apparently. i like long walks, gazing at stars, giving lowers, making all sorts of stuff with my hands (cards, paper animals, etc) | | Are you in a relationship now?: | nope | | If so, for how long?: | last relationship was, apparently, 1 week from a year. | | If not, how long have you been single?: | iono. 2 months, maybe three? i don't keep track. maybe four to six; i really have no idea. | | Are you a virgin?: | nope. slept with 3 girls; first was one of those with a "reputation" (although wasn't all that much of a slut; just easy). some alright sex, mostly experimentation. second was a lot the same, but she aimed for attention instead of physical fulfillment. not much fucking here, but it was a nice experience. finally, mic, with whom sex initially seemed obligatory. once it was out of the way, there was a little light screwing. after her first orgasm though, it was fucking galore. she liked to be dominated, but i didn't like that shit. oh yes, that was a lot of sex. sometimes, we'd just aim for a number of orgasms, hit it, then set a higher one. she managed to stay through 47 once. it ended up all just sex, though, which sucked, and i got very, very distant, and she got more and more in need of comfort. never gave anything back, though, even from the beginning. oh, but, once, she bought me a teddy bear, named raaaah!, who, when it's belly was pushed, said "i love you chris". that really helped to shape my views on what "love" is. | | What song describes your love life right now?: | uhhhh......... blah? | | Ranomosity | | War: Good or Bad?: | bad. | | What do you think of designer labels?: | views expressed above. somewhere. i think. they bug me! | | Who's skankier: Britney Spears or Paris Hilton?: | define "skanky"? | | What is it with guys and cars?: | it's an insecure masculinity thing, as well as attention seeking and an (apparently) fulfilling hobby | | Do you sing?: | yeah, poorly. | | If so, what part (Soprano 1,Alto 2, et cetera)?: | y'wha? is that opera stuff? yeah, right. | | Kiss or hug?: | both. | | What color is your room?: | lilac!! | | How old is your mom?: | 3...6? | | Black and white or color photos?: | both have benefits and drawbacks. generally, colour. | | Who cuts your hair?: | nobody. | | What color is your toothbrush?: | purple!! | | What color is your hair brush?: | black? | | What kind of hair products do you use?: | some cheap ASDA stuff. works really well, though. | | Is K-Mart just the poor man's Wal-Mart?: | iono, don't remember. | | Are you sXe?: | what's sXe? oh, i get it. iono, depends on your preference. | | Are you sexy?: | again, it all depends on who's asking. | | What color to people tells you looks nice on you?: | only my mum ever comments, and that's for anything but black. which i don't often wear, by the way. | | What color do you think looks nice on you?: | black works. white t-shirt & black jeans seems ideal. i like variety, though. | | Clothes shopping or grocery shopping?: | clothes, definately. | | Who do you sit with at lunch? | | Do you like the sound of your own voice when you hear it played back?: | sometimes. | | Who has the nicest speaking voice that you know?: | i don't remember. | | What is the website for one of your favorite bands?: | pff! uh... mansonusa.com? | | Do you prefer to date people younger, older, or the same age as you?: | same/older, just for mental maturity, but young minds can be just as mature. i'm pretty immature anyway; i'm the oldest of 4, and i'm only 17. | | Do you listen to songs on repeat often?: | instrumental, classical, and really really slow stuff. | | Who was the last person you hung out with?: | lloyd!!!! | | What did you and that person do?: | sat and chatted, basically. | | Do you use internet shorthand (i.e. "lol", "brb", "jk", et cetera)?: | aw, hell no. i type as i speak in my head, so i use "iono", "outta", "gotta", and other word merges. | | How often do you bathe?: | ever 2-3 days (shower). ain't had a bath in months, i only really shower. | | Are you a people-pleaser?: | hell yeah | | Do you dye your hair regularly?: | nope! | | What about your eyebrows?: | heh, no way! | | Do you wear makeup?: | nope. unless he/she wants me to. | | If you answered "yes", to #96, are you female?: | nah, i'm a dude, dude. | | Do you buy CDs edited or unedited?: | uhm, as they come in the store..? | | Can you beatbox?: | i have no idea. | | Does your mom like the song "Hey Ya" by OutKast?: | probably not. she's more into everly bros, westlife, whitney, christina, etc. |
100 Questions For Your Answering Pleasure! brought to you by BZOINK!
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| (0 comments) | | | 12 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| gotta love dem surveys! | apr26-2109 |
| Specify if you have done (have), are doing (are), would do (would), or not. | | Kissed a boy?: | nope. which i half regret, 'cause there was this one guy, one of my only actual crushes thoughout my entire life, but i'll never see him again, and i don't think he had any idea. | | Kissed a girl?: | yea | | Gone to a different country?: | yup! spain, when i was little, amsterdam (school trip), florida (disney, x2), kansas (6 month stay) | | Different continent?: | yeah | | Held a job?: | holding my first job now... | | Quit a job?: | nah, not yet | | Gotten fired from a job?: | again, not yet, but i've been hinted... | | Attended colledge?: | nope. still in sixth form. | | Given birth?: | hehe, nah. | | Had an abortion?: | nope. dated a girl who had, though. | | Had unsafe sex?: | yup; same girl. oh, then most recent girl (she was on the pill; started off perfectly safe). and the one in between (i've slept with three people, btw), but i can barely remem | | Dumped?: | yeah, only the last girl though. i'd say woman ('stead of girl), but... well, she ain't. | | Been dumped?: | nope! wait... oh, yeah! but i was kinda pishing... heavily... towards it. | | Failed a test?: | yeah | | Aced a test?: | of course! | | Owned a cell phone?: | yup. | | Owned your own "place"?: | nope. | | Cut your own hair?: | heh, once, when i was really bored. just a little off the back. i really fucked it up! | | Liked how it looked?: | i couldn't see it. | | Been on an airplane?: | yeah | | Been to Disney Land?: | iono | | Been to Disney World?: | which is which? i haven't done paris, just florida, twice. | | Been skiing?: | nope | | Been surfing?: | nope | | Gotten first place?: | i don't remember any time i have. | | Gotten last place?: | ...and i don't remember any time i haven't. | | Gone through a fat phase?: | occasionally, sure. not to any extreme, though. | | Been married?: | nope. | | Broken a bone?: | think i've sprained a few... iono if i've ever broken one though. if i have, it was just my little finger. | | Stalked anyone?: | nah | | Been stalked?: | nope | | Had a celebrity crush?: | yeah, that coffee girl in What Woman Want, first time i saw it. next time i saw it, i couldn't understand why i'd found her so fascinating. the principle of sex, i guess. | | Met a celebrity?: | met Rhino from UK gladiators, once. and a chick from the same show, too. but that's all. | | Dated a celebrity?: | heh, nope. | | Claimed a celebrity was your soul mate/future husband/future wife?: | nope! | | Written fan mail (not e-mail)?: | to web sites, yeah, but not to any major celebrity. | | Dated your best friend?: | yeah. | | Your close friend?: | again, yeah. | | Wished you hadn't started taking this survey?: | kinda; i need to pee. |
Have you/Are you/Would You... brought to you by BZOINK!
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| (0 comments) | | | 9 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| rainxonxme's survey | apr26-1627-2 |
I AM: you
I THINK: far more than others
I KNOW: far less than others
I WANT: substantial hope
I HAVE: a penis
I WISH: i never wished
I HATE: far less than others
I MISS: "then"
I FEAR: fear itself
I HEAR: lloyd
I SEARCH: blindly
I WONDER: why i wonder
I REGRET: regretting nothing (contradiction)
I LOVE: love
I TRULY CARE: about myself
I ALWAYS: "just"
I AM NOT: unique
I DANCE: alone
I SING: alone
I CRY: alone
I FIGHT: for reasons i can't understand
I WRITE: for hope
I WIN: candy? yay!
I LOSE: train of thought
I'M CONFUSED: far less than others
I LISTEN: when it works for me
I CAN USUALLY BE FOUND: alone
I NEED: too much?
I AM HAPPY ABOUT: the comfort & stability in solitude
I SHOULD: agree to medication
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| (3 comments) | | | 24 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| blip | apr26-1619-1* |
And i know it will pass, if i just hang on long enough. I know it'll go away, and it'll be better again, like before... but that doesn't stop it hurting. I still feel lik ei'm dying on the inside. I can feel my organs churning, and my stomach is cramped, which does very little to aid my mental state. But, hey, you know what they say. No? Me neither.
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| (2 comments) | | | 12 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| accent | 2224-#5 |
Did i mention, my accent is very heavily influenced by the american (Kansas) accent? What results is a strange mix of smartass whitley and soft, easy american. Apparently, i sound australian. Hmm.
Ring ring, ring ring.
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| (5 comments) | | | 21 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| apple strudel | 2205-#4 |
That's what i'm eating. My mum made it for me. She's getting better, it's nice. I think she's boosted her medication or something.
Watching Caddyshack. Bill Murray just clubbed the flowers. Sex scene's just over. I do love when movies don;t make a big thing outta nudity (ie, L-shaped duvets). I do sislike it when i hit the semi-colon key instead of the inverted comma.
Oh yeah. I wanted to say; i seem to find red extremely sexy. Oh, fuck yes. I have no idea why, though. But still, fuck yes.
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| (1 comments) | | | 10 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| striving for perfection | apr25-2200-4 |
I wrote a short essay, based on Margeret Atwoord's "The Handmaids Tale" about perfection in society. It pretty much stated that to make perfection, you must eliminate and control, which actually pushes back perfection. Atwood's Handmaid society, for instance, had eliminated RAPE. In doing this, they'd destroyed pornography and all other free forms of sex, including relationships. Instead of rape, these "Handmaids" were routinely (monthly) fucked by the house "Commanders".
More to come, if i can remember.
Nope, fuck, i forgot.
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| (0 comments) | | | 7 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| another-entry | apr25-2120-3 |
Last Entry: 2109-2120
This Entry: 2120-21__
I remember my point now. Reading back in journals.
My mind seems to exist, generally, only in the now. So, when i read back, even in my own diary, nothing seems to stick; my mind isn't focused, and while my brain skims across the words, i'm not registering them. It's like reading a passage with no feeling: it's just plain dead. Lucy, i've read from #15 (the others are inaccesible) up to #45. For some reason, i was in a perfect mood (made imperfect for what follows when the "happy" runs out), and everything was going and and actually sticking.
But, my brother (K) wanted on (always at 1900). When i came back, my mood had dissolved. Which sucked. I tried to carry on, but it just wouldn't work. I don't want to read words made empty by my self (which is why i often neglect all your journals).
-38
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| (2 comments) | | | 13 hits | [ edit :: delete ] | |
| previous | apr25-2109-2 |
That last one was kinda for me, but i don't like marking anything private. As anything i write, i can only guess my point(s). So, like me, i'm afraid you're gonna have to make of it what you will. That poem, in "boy", for instance, was done by me when i was about 6 or 7. I read it recently, and it reflected to me a situation metaphorically similar to depression. But, at other times, i think, damn that's funny. Sometimes, i think, how stoopid. It's all based on perception dictated to the current mood.
Sometimes, i feel really fat and bloated. Sometimes i feel fuckin' sexy. Other times, i feel scrawny and wretched. I comfort eat, but not a lot; i've never really eaten much.
There was a point to this, too, but again, i don't remember it. It's escaped me, which is upsetting, because so many other things do too. I'm not lying or trying to be attractive when i say my vision is hazy and confused. I mean it in honesty; i really do see in a kind of haze. Sometimes i see perfectly fine though, but other times, i can barely see but a pin prick of space. I know our brain reconstructs automatically anyway, but why do i notice it?
Goddamn it, what was i gonna write about??
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| so close... | apr25-1300-1* |
but there is something. isn't there? there must be; has to be. god, i wish there was something.
all others are full, spilling, but this one isn't. remains as empty as ever, but for a few poems, books, and magazines, dusted across the coffee table in the old doctors surgery. see? no, see what you see, not what i see. see now?
is what you make it.
and so, trapped, stolen, a thief. incoherancy? i say, to you, narph, for i can, if it i were not to, i would say something else, for i can, and you cannot stop me, but you can, but you won't. not yet.
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| bothered | apr24-1520-1520 |
You know what bothers me? The fact that the stereotypical sitD user is a 15-yr old chick cutter. They all seem to be, i wish i could tell him/show him how i feel, i want to be dead [insert multiple exclamation marks], i'm original and i'll prove it by becoming a stereotype...
It just really bothers me, is all.
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| iloveyou | apr24-1259-3 |
I was considering those 3 little words, and the number of times they've been spoken to me, and the number of people who've spoken them, and all their reasons for doing so. I've come to the conclusion that i'd much rather be told "i want to fuck you" than "i love you, but i'm not gonna say how or why".
There was a kid in my class, back when i hoped to be the best, in primary school, who could draw better than me. And another, who could write far better. And this girl, who was great at math. And this other one, who was stunningly fuckable, but she came later. And then then there were loads who could sing, even though i was the only one to get 10/10 marks in this yr-7 class singing assesment to evaluate our vocal talent, or at least, i had 10, before everybody protested and got it bumped down to 8 or 9.
And there was this kid, called fisher (NOT Fish, who's an existing... friend? no, associate?), who entranced me with his confidence and sleazy atitude (and was recently jailed for a knife incident; i saw him a year or two ago), but i was never anything more than a title, and an alibi, and a shoplifting partner, and such.
When i saw him, i didn't give him the satisfaction of remembering the power he had over me. I'd pictured the scene before - ringing out his neck and screaming into his eyes, slashing his face apart and tearing his limbs from his body - but, that would've been to easy. Calmly and civily, i asked what he'd been up to, etc, grouped with my current you-know-whos (i rather dislike this "friends" word), but refused to display the grip he once had on me. Even if i were to thrust my foot against his throat, it would prove nothing more than the fact that i would be emotionally unstable, unable to contain my feelings, and that i still remember everything about him, as if i'm too pathetic to forget.
'Just thought i'd share that with you.
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| rambles | apr24-1052-2 |
That last one took only 15 minutes (i'm distracted by tv). Now, it's 10:26, 38 minutes after bob woke me from my dream about B-Trevor signing a paper to let me out of jail (after B. was staring in [insert-name-of-confused-human-emotion] at mum & alan fucking in their bedroom, door wide open, with all us kids in the kitchen)(kitchen's joined on to mum's bedroom), saying "christopher? you've got a letter" [=) =) =)!!!!].
Anyway; if you ever have a spare moment, take a look at some of the Keinholzes work (Edward Kienholz, mostly). There's some realy great work by him, like, "Ignoring The Joke The Boy Lived On", "Illegal Operation", "The Big Double Cross", and "John Doe", to name a few favourites.
Uhm, i don't really know the point of this post... it just kinda "is".
When i write "boy", i start with a small idea that grows and develops, incoporating all different aspects of all different things. I may start talking about a "girl", who could be, say, Lucy (which i don't think i've actually done, btw, but it's just for the sake of example), but that girl may suddenly become my mother, or myself, or the imaginary figure i hope to find but know only resides in my mind, for nobody could ever be perfect, since we all seem to be, ultimately, completely self-involved, and i've fogotten where i was going with this, but i;m sure it was something really important, but not really, i'm just saying that for the sake of self worth.
oh, and, I'M HUNGRY!!!
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| equal | apr24-1027-1* |
Unfortunately, nobody could ever really be "the best". Your best friend couldn't draw like Michaelangelo, who couldn't swim like Sharon Davies, who couldn't be the lead operater of Third Reich (A. Hitler), who couldn't have been the one who devised a Theory of Relativity (A. Einstein), who, finally, couldn't be the greek god of beauty (Diana).
So, all the best in their fields are never the best in all the rest: everybody comes before them, in many apsects at a time.
To get personal: i know i can write. I know i can write exceedingly well; i've been told countless times, by numerous important figures throughout my life. I mean, write back in my childhood, right up to today. I can draw, too; my scrawls have been marvelled at, again, since my childhod. And yet, i'm unhappy. In my english class, their is a girl whos writing, in my opinion, much surpasses mine. She gets amazing grades, she's -gorgeous-, and she can act like the best. In my art class, there's a girl who can paint like a professional, and who's actually on the road to getting her manga cartons published.
These people i should envy, for they are my betters. But, to tell the truth, apart for in their crucial flaws, i can accept that they're my betters, and that i'll never be the best. This fact will never stop me striving, reaching personal accomplishments, though. My goals aren't equal to others; they're equal to my own standards. Remebering to hand in an essay, for instance, is actually a huge thing for me, while it'd be a piece of old cake for either of the other two.
So, why set yourself to someone elses standards? Live your own life, live to your own limitations. If you spend your entire life trying to meet someone else's standards, your own will dissolve and dissapear, until you have nothing more left, but an empty shell and the skin of your idol.
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| EGO BOOST!!! | apr23 2120 |
Ok, so they're not all that great, but that's 4 "paintings" in 2 days...
Mudman: "Dammit chris, you and your perfect responses".
(10 mins later...)
Mr.G: "All your answers are perfect".
Yay. Major ego boost. =)
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| history-doodles | apr22-2255-3 |
History Doodles: Pt. 1 (Random/Undated) / Pt. 2 (Tues. 3rd Feb)
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| history | apr22-1831-2 |
I found an old suicide note, written in (a lot of) blood, from way back in Kansas. That was pretty distressing. I seem to forget, so easily, everything from way back then. But, i was reading Diana*'s letters to me, which was nice. I've been trying to find mum's suicide note from last year (or, whenever it was), but i don't remember what i did with it. Oh,m she's still alive, by the way.
Anyway, that note was found amongst a load of other, old, art. That's where the doll scene ('buncha entries down somehwhere) picture came from. I drew that fresh outta my mind, doncha know.
*Diana: A girl, left behind when i moved back from Kansas. Still in touch, but keeping distances (avoiding painful longing, etc).
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| PurpleFish | apr22-1812-1* |
I spent rather a long time on this: PurpleFish Website.
Well, actually, that didn't take me all that long. The flash site, however, took far longer than ever expected... but, i'm still pleased with thr turnout (please allow time for load!)
PurpleFish Website (Super Early Flash Version!)
Click the corner buttons to change the graphics. This design was scrapped, basically, because it was too difficult to update (it wasn't me that was s'posed to do it... and the actual "ICT Personal" guy was too lazy to alter the flash file, or even incorporate XML.
...And, if you wanna see a piece of history, here's the temporary page i set up.
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| do me | 2233-3 |
"Do you realise that dogs like fish?"
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
(--cookiemonster)*
*"cookiemonster" is an actual journal. this does not link to cookiemonster's journal, but links to another one.
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| talkingclock: "anotherboy" | apr-21-2215-2* |
it's all open to interpretation. that's why i took down that "explanation". it was nothing more than an attempt. if you remove the heart, what is left, besides an empty shell? the explanation i wrote defined only my state of mind at the moment ("reads like a suicide note"). if anything, it's a seperate piece altogether. what i mean is, it was only an interpretation.
i regret attempting to force that upon you. "boy" is my 2AM journal. only at that time do i know what i'm writing, and only for the brief second it takes to stike an individual word.
i -want- different interpretations. if i drew a picture that looked, to you, as a flower, but named it a hippo, would you not feel taken from? to explain an essence can be very fun indeed, but no expanation will ever make perfect sense.
"boy": the unexplainable. lives in your eyes, thriving on dreams. basks in infinity, for that is the price of being all.
i can't tell you what [boy] is, because i can't understand it myself. it's not designed to be understood. it's designed to be interpreted. if you can't do that... well, i don't understand why you couldn't do that.
i suppose, when we hear a single lyric in a song, enough to draw a tear, we create for ourselves a fantasy of uplift, love, despair or opression. we form the rest of the words into out own reality. i guess, some people can never find their line.
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| boy-2 | apr-21-1204-1* |
leaking through to your other world, now. twitching flesh galore.
boy speaks:
...not just yet. the time is not yet ripe.
but i assure you: i am not a happy shit.
ignore: |takeme|
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| boy | apr20-2256-3 |
Personally, i feel that the past 2 chapters in "boy" have been the most intimate, personal things i've ever written. Then i read the others... the forgotten ones... i found a lot of it very difficult to read, since it is me, and my life.
I hope that the last entry (in this journal) helps you to understand me side of the story.
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| boy: explained? | apr20-2140-2 |
This would make more sense if you read this (which makes more sense if you read the one before that). Note that some things were omitted from the online version, to help poetic flow. If you've never considered me unstable, this will mean very little to you, even now.
...ha! no more! the explanation was interpretation, and so is invalid on this subject. do not loiter here, move on!!
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| bahumonkey! | apr20-1549-1* |
Off to town.
Since i'm such a malerable bitch, i've written some explanation of my "boy" journal. It's clear and somewhat detailed, and i may post it here later. Maybe. Probably not.
So, no matter how much i deny it, i -do- need counselling. I cried three times today. I have no idea why. I really, really don't know why. Fuck, shit, cunt, dick, bastard. I hate counselling. Meh, maybe it'll be better this time? All for the best, in the long run.
Talking of running... i'm gonna miss the bus...
And remember! If you don't hide, nobody can ever find you...
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| crush | apr19-1615-1* |
Love could never be mutual, since everybody's "love" is different. 'Cept, when it's the same... which is when the excietment dies, and you find yourself in a genetic lab with a test-tube clone standing in front of you, marveling in envy at your wierd-lookin', unfamiliar belly button. 'Damn clones.
On the left! Look! Actual, real people! Go visit them, now!!!
boy's about due for an update... plenty of doodlescraps to fill in the blanks, now. i gotta stop flirting with everybody. especially the customers, at work. i'm an easy crush.
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| moo!! | apr18-1237-1* |
why am i so insecure? because it's easy! it avoids conflict!
in fact, though, it ain't easier. it's a pest.
wheee!! off to work, again. bu-bye everybody!
mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!
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| the wedding: commentary | apr-18[mid]-0041 |
me: [playfully,but,suggestively] couldn't pull yourself away from me, eh?
notme: you have -no- idea.
fuck. she reminded me of D... that was really wierd, and scary. goddammit, why am i so insecure??
hey! now i'm working, i can get dope! i mean, if i smoked it. which i don't. drugs are for squares, man.
i gotta get laid. shit.
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| anywhere... | 21:18-27 |
Neglecting "boy". Once coherat thoughts have become far too jumbled, even for that one journal. My world is filtered into a single eye. I still don't know my place! I doubt i ever will.
I'm losing sight of this purpose now. Ah... i should go, i should leave. The shadows shouldn't be cast here; there are other places for that, where it's appropriate.
Any place but here.
I'm feeling lonely again. I'm not sure what it is i want, or need, or whatever. I'd like to be held. I'd love to hold, too. Someone. Not just words, or dusty poetry, or even alistair. My addmitance is at fault. Further knowledge creates further questioning.
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| | moo-1957-3 |
lots on my mind. nothing really to give you, now, here. should be doing homework. written a lot, to lucy, or to myself, i'm not really sure.
...
moo?
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| money!!!! | blah-1905-2 |
I had �71 in the bank! Yay! I have money!
And i haven't been paid for this month, including all the overtime, yet! Yay! I'll have more money!
Spent 30 on present, candy and ice cream for the kids. Keeping rest for... uh, stuff.
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| roar | fri-apr16-1900-1* |
Eugh. Banned till weekend, she said... took out the siblings to purchase her a present; given back freedom for my generosity. Or something.
Wedding tomorrow, so can't come on. That's why, then. Only allowed 'till 10 o clock. Homework to do. Need to shower. Been swinging in the park with B., little sister. Too much comfort eating.
Love: stability & reliability, excitement & adrenaline, and growth. also, mutual respect & compromise. according to my mother, anyway.
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| IQ | apr14-2152 |
TheSpark.com says my IQ is 110, which as average.
Iqtest.com says it's 135, which is "borderline genius".
I hate math questions.
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| "goodnight" | wed-ap14-0237AM |
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| meow? | April 13, 2004 |
stop it, please... you're making me cry.
no. hold me tighter.
thank you.
~~
it's scary. my mind tells me wrong, but my heart... it's died so many times now... my own words beat me down to tears... and yours, too...
trying to laugh it off now.
it's nothing, really.
everybody hurts.
but i feel so empty.
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| little bit o' history | ap14--0050(earlier) |
This is the one where i write about sitting here comfort eating with my big bar of easter fruit+nut. Alcahol? Nah, one day i'm'a have a life (currently restricted by school), and i know, when i do, i'm gonna wanna have it as bright as possible. I know what booze does to me. Fun, if you know your limits. Most people your age don't. Do you?
Anyway. One of my english teachers, mr.G (mentioned previously; dead reading in class), once asked us to write what we live for. I wrote "hope of love".**
Maybe this explains why i'm so determined to prove myself wrong? Unfortunately, i could find a fault in most all you say. I rather dislike this. I don't hate it; "hate" is such an ignorant word, like love, meaning so much, or so little, but not having the [soemthing] to say it. Capacity, to say it? Guts? Nobody likes to admit they're feeling low 'cause of their own problems. It has to be someone else's thing, right?
Angel (davidboroneaz(sp?)/buffy) was a puppet today. That was original. Hehe.
**It was kinda funny, 'cause my then-just-split-ex wrote very little (if anything at all?), and mr.G peeked over her work (as good teachers do), and chuckled, "well you don't have very much to live for!" Please, keep in mind, he's not an unkind man. Seemingly troubled in some respects, but altogether, quiet and, well, -kind-. (i do like that word. it's so 'soft'...). [hehehehe...] She burst out crying! I'm unsure as to why i found this funny... Ha! It was, though. I regret doing what followed now, since it demostrated me as rather weak and malleable, but didn't think about that at the time.
I slowly walked up to her (she was just in front of me), drew out my arms and placed my hands against the back of her head. I walked in close to her, and let her head fall onto my stomach, stroking her calmly.
She soon perked up, of course, but that's something completely unrelated.
So, anyway, i'm lonely. I'm gonna fall asleep, again, cuddling up to my alistairteddybear, and wishing love was real.
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| love and stuff... | apr14--0028-midn |
Sitting here hungrily awaiting just a single glimpse of somebody to hold me... somebody new, though. Somebody i -know- isn't just another, someone i can make special.
Why did they cheat on you?
You failed to offer a unique comfort.
When it was reaised that your services were offered elsewhere, perhaps even bettered, then they crawled away. The only thing causing them to stay, then, would be guilt. That's where all the apologies come into it.
He abuses her, yet she stays. Why? Because she loves him, and love is all powerful?? No. Because she's learned to be completely dependant on him and him only, as her source of comfort. He's demeaned her, or, let her demean herself, into thinking nobody could, or, would, ever offer eveything she has now. Which is probably far less in reality. It's pretty much all perception.
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| answers. but do you want them? | April 13, 2004 |
The following is a slightly agressive (but not intentionally so - it just sounds that way, for reasons so clear and simple you'd rather not know them) response to a particular journal, but can be much applied to pretty much anything, or anyone. I've de-coloured it, because, although i know you can't help but read it, i still want to show you, i half-regret posting this. I'd make it private, but, it answeres questions that couldn't be answered otherwise; questions that, i think (at this moment in time) need to be answered.
As i've said; the truth stings, burns and scars. Unless you can prove me wrong on the previous entry, i doubt you should read this. It may well demolish you world of beliefs.
Alternatively, if could just be a bunch of words, and i'm being typical in my in-depth analogies again.
AND IT STILL MAKES SENSE!!!!
Why did he say those things?
To get what he wanted.
Because humans, as animals, are completely infatuated with themselves, and completey selfish.
Love isn't real. Don't even think otherwise.
You derived, from him, a comfort you could find in nobody else.
And all you remember is the comfort, and the words, and the comfort, because we never remember the abuse. We block it out, we don't wanna listen to ourselves. We remember the good, the great, and the magnificant. Why remember otherwise?
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| spring cleaning? (...tidyup) | April 13, 2004 |
To avoid any further possible confusion, the monkey was a scan of an old toy i attached to my school bag , and gradually mutulated, with chains, amputation and other such things (including wrapping in a condomn and lighting it on fire, moulding the rubber (as a symbol of the forever-lasting impression of sex upon me) to the mock monkey's body, stiching it's mouth up (those who speak truth are always beaten down), and restricting it's movements with a friendship bracelet from my mother (pretty self-explanatory)).
Losing your virginity grants you a more in-depth insight to the world, since, as the majority already know, life is based on sex. Well, life is based on survival of self and survival of species (that's your meaning of life for ya), so, yeah, it's half-based on sex, and half-based on selfish instinct.
If you want it that way (remember, the truth hurts like hell sometimes), go ahead, walk through that door (or, lie down on the floor) (hey, that rhymes! i should make a song... lalala...). But, if you'd rather stay blissfully ignorant (as i'm sure pretty much anybody with standard intelligence would), then, don't even consider it.
Sometimes, it just feels right. Ok, i'll grant you that. But last night, it would've felt "right" to pick up my knife and giuge out my intenstines. See what i'm saying? Horniness = >:p, sure, but then it only leads to :'(.
I'd quite fancy a milky bar, right about now.
Other times, though, it can be so close to perfect, it'd make you cry (does anybody know the science behind crying? I'd really be interested). If you have the chance, let these moments come (contrary to what i've said about seizing the moment), if you're absolutely certain the will, and orchestrate them to your wishes. Sex can be fun, exciting, and fucking awesome. Sure. But, it can also be a wonderful feeling of two people bonding. Which'd you rather have? I'm still single, by the way... ;)
In the end, my advice would be, you don't wanna get into that. But that's just from years and years of well-infomed education and brilliant experience, so i may not even know what i'm talking about.
I need somebody to prove to me that love ain't just about comfort. Every time i hear about it, or read about it, i'm thinking; yup, that's comfort. It explains so much, including religion, and anything related to "love". But, i don't wanna accept this. Am I being ignorant, stupid, or just petty?
Right now, though, i stick by my earlier words. i-love-you = i-find-some-kind-of-comfort-in-you-that-i-can-get-no-where-else-right-now.
Please, i beg of you, prove me wrong.
Can you?
Please.
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| "...and let me guide you to the purple rain..." | 1302-2 |
another: this. point a gun to a head and they scream, fucking kill me then. a strange denial through percieved acceptance, i suppose. celladoir scrapbook.
boy: another child's sob story.
talkingclock: "fuck you." attitude problem, but only on your part. acceptance of truth is always regrettable. basically, disagreeable side showing without cover of any sort. the celladoir scrapbook kept under the mattress, with a 3-inch padlock attached, 13 ancient vooddoo curses applied, and 7 heavily-armoured guards on 12-hour rotational shifts.
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| heartahangin | Tue-Ap13-1128-1* |
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| ďż˝ | April 12, 2004 |
Just a quick one to say hi, you guys. Haven't been able to get on recently due to redocorating. The screens killing my eyes, so i can't write any more.
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| dare? | wed-ap7-2154 |
Nope. Nada. Never, no, negative, nu-uh-uh.
That's the chance of it happening for you right now.
I was thinking about this "dare to be great situation" thing. You know; once or twice in your life, you're supposed to get a chance to -really- be someone, to mean something.
But, as i said, the chances of that situation ever occuring are zero. Well, that is, unless you don't want it that way.
The way i see it? Every day, that situation occurs and you pass it by. You wanna be "great", you ain't gonna get it sitting on your butt and hopin'. Every time you hold someone's hand, you're doing something great. Every time you give your change to someone forced to live on the street, you're being great. Every time you help anybody, no matter how small the deed and how few the thanks you get back, you're great. It's all in the way you see it. You know what a hero is? Someone who gives thankless help. Those are the great people. By reading this, you're helping me, and expecting nothing in return (since, i write to be read, and thrive on your attention, so by "hitting" this, your fulfilling my soul).
You wanna be great? Then BE great. Don't wait for it to come to you; go to it. 'Cause it'll never come unless you want it to.
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| This will be forever. | your time. |
Just for you, Ellie.
I will weave you a dream of silky thread,
Where you can live in a spider web
But not as the fly;
He's far too weak.
You are the spider
On your own eight feet.
You have my heart today.
I'd say forever, but i don't want to intrude.
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| HELLO, trying to pay special attention here people!! | mon-ap5-2308 |
One of the most beautiful intros for a song is that by "Our Lady Peace", on "Not Enough". The lyrics are a little confusing; they seem to be able to be aplied to so many, yet could be directed to only a few, so i try not to relate. It's less painful that way. But the music... i'm not lying when i say it makes me cry. Seriously, there are tears in my eyes now, and i'm barely listening to it.
another can't be allowed to feel these feelings. You will NOT have to endure another fake death, i assure you!
(all i need is everything you have.)
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| toilet+friends | mon-ap5-2228 |
What's really wierd is, i seem to write all my best stuff on the toilet.
Lucy, if you're reading this, boy is only for boy-like stuff. He'll only be more populated when my head is more frantic. talkingclock's a friend for me, since i push all the real ones away.
another. still that, and nothing more. i can't lie if i never speak.
another confused boy. another talking clock. another disposable hero. another someone to love. another easy fuck, as i've been called so many times before. but all in the name of someone elses comfort, of course!
*~~--
Y'know, there's a reason the people on my "friends" list are there. It's not an obligation; just a little request. I mean, you're readint his, and i'm -definately- no better than anybody else here. I'm not saying these people are better than anybody else; these guys just happen to hold a very special place in my heart.
*~~--
Here's something i wrote a little earlier.
���"Just looking at food is making me wanna stick my fingers down my throat. I feel so fat & bloated. People tell me "you're so skinny!". Yeah, that just makes me feel so fuckin' great. My first girlfrind used to call me a rake."
It goes one from there, but it's mostly about rakes and music. Well, that was shorter than i thought...
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| bagmonkey_pt2 | mon-apr5-1722 |
... and, here's the real thing.
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| bagmonkey_pt1 | m-apr05-1645 |
Since i've bugger all else to say, here's a little something i did a couple of years ago; one of my first flash drawings. It's a picture of my old toy monkey. The quality's low, though. I'll scan him in some time later, if i can find him.
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| fuck me! | Su-Ap4-2125-1* |
Fuck you? Fuck ME!!
I'm sorry to everybody who took me seriously. Prank it was not; everything was truth in my head, but... well, it was pretty fuckin' stupid, wasn't it?
"boy" was dead from the beginning. He was a vent, and will now continue to be. Even -he- is appaled by his own behaviour.
Reason to continue... pff, is there ever? My service may be cheap, but it's as best as you're gonna get for your price. I'm a cheap whore >=D. My "words of whatever" were boring. I'd rather tell fairytales. Unless, of course, you'd rather i span you a yarn of ink?
A smile today is another for the photo album. A smile can -never- be a lie; not today, nor tomorrow.
Y'know, working in WHSmith today (3rd day there!!), i get plenty of smiley people, paying attention to my "Trainee" brand. But there was this one guy, who really inspired me. He told me how he used to work in a hospital... and the funny thing is, no matter how much death he must of seen, no matter how many faiths have demolished in his eyes... he kept on smiling. He said "you're gonna die eventually... why not smile??"
That was really inspiring. But, so were you.
All of you.
The only "other" i can blame is myself. Not you, nor somebody "here", in my living room; only my own feelings. The situation was, basically, i had a whole buncha feelings that i just ended up dwelling on and instigating. But, that's a depressing topic for another day.
Now, this diary will continue. Because of... you. Thank ya.
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| it's gonna be another long night... | f/a2'2339-44 |
Fuck you and your fucking obligations.
boy was a runaway. He's dead now; buried with your dirt.
Anybody who reads this; i'm sorry, but there's no reason to continue.
My words of "hope" are echoed by my truth anyway.
A smile today is one more lie tomorrow.
No suicide; i'm not that pathetic.
Just the self inhialation of another boy.
Thank you, to some. I mean that in all kind heartedness and truth.
Thank you so very much to others. I mean that with all deathly sarcasm.
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| REFRESHED! | today =) [1657] |
Sandy's emails always mae me feel better. And, of course, manson's "I Don't Like The Drugs" (if you listen to it loud enough, it's meaning kinda disolves, and you're just left with the great glam rock guitars and screeching vocals and bleeping keyboards =D).
Thee Smiley is thy friend!
I feel refreshed and reborn, and i now -thank- my self for my short-term memory, since i can't remember those feelings! Sunshine is also your friend. It make me a rather smiley person. I still have this letter i was gonna scan and give to you (lucy), but it's awfully self-involved, and isn't very gratifying.
See, this is the mood of writing poetry and drawing flowers. Iyams happeeee! I should probably be savouring this, but i won't remember it anyway.
Remember:
A smile a day can make the pain go away!
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| zodiac | 1430 |
Libra
Daily Extended
April 02, 2004
"Since when did you become such a resource? Now everyone is coming to you as if you had all the answers. You're flattered but mystified. Give yourself some credit, though. Maybe you actually do know more than you realize. There are many paths to understanding and many definitions of wisdom. You're the best in your field even if you're just a majority of one. And even if you lack all the pieces, you might have the ones that are missing from somebody else's puzzle. Trade for what you need and share what you have. It all comes together in the end."
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| secret | fri/ap2-1347/1+ |
i have a secret i'm dying to tell you.
school's out for 2 weeks. i'm trying to make conversaton here. i'm not very good at that, though. i need to pick myself up... but i just feel so drained. to get outta the gutter, you gotta stand up... but my legs feel so weak.
i think i'll probably delete this later. right now, it's a cry for help. soon i'll look back and pity myself. i'm tired of boy; it was a lie that never really lived. maybe that's why. i knew it wouldn't last, though.
i wrote so much back then... inspiring words, i thought, but nobody really took any notice. some did, mind. they made me feel special. but now, it doesn't seem to matter. i feel like a hypocrite. comparing myself to a month ago (#14:"times will...")... i just feel ashamed of myself. i'm starting counselling again; at school, and at home. the school thing was really crappy, but there's a new counseller. i didn't like my therapist last time, but i've heard of a pleasant-sounding teen help place. i wanna see my doctor, too. i've been diagnosed with depression (among other things), but it'd be nice to know there's a reason i'm feeling eveything else. i wrote down how i'd characterise myself, yesterday or the day before. i doun't remember. i never did have a good memory, but this is just getting unbearable. i can bearly remember an 3 hours ago. is that normal? i have no idea; that's why i'm asking.
here's how i described myself. some stuff contradicts other stuff. this is why i'm so confused:
- self-centered, speaking arrogantly high of myself
- self-loathing, frequently having feelings of inqadequacy and unimportance
- seeingly racing thoughts
- VERY easily distracted on anything that's not completely engulfing
- disaluion of necesary talkativeness
- constant drive to do something productive
- constantly staring into space
did you really see that side dissappear, lucy?
- expecting pity & neglect from others
- some inablility to take compliment, focusing instead on criticism
- (seemingly) constant feeling of deterieration
- feelings of being driven or carried on by some external force
- need to host/entertain even at innapropriate times (dependance?)
- need for improvement
- drive to accomplish self-set tasks by self-set times
- pathetic lack of self-motivation
my psychology teacher, today, described me as "non-conformist, but not disobediant". i don't like to follow people, prefering to feel simply comfortable and my own, basicaly, but i don't disagree with most rules and orders, seeing the importance and/or motivation behind them. consequences, however, seem of little importance to me.
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| underestimate | thu apr01-1835-5 |
I've been a fool. Well, in all truth, it's only turned out for the better (i hope), but i still can't help feeling guilty.
Juiette, you're a wonderful person, and i, too, hope we sustain this love-hate/kiss-bite/water-fire relationship.
Lucy, i'm so sorry i underestimated you.
I see you now, not for everything you are (my life is too short to ever see all you have!), but with more clarity than ever before.
Well, i think so, anyway. My mind will, no doubt, flicker any second now, and i'll come up with somthine else to fill my blanks.
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| everybody hurts | thu apr01-1305-5 |
These are still, argueably, the greatest song lyrics ever written. It's Everybody Hurts, by REM. I can't read these, 'cause i'll cry in class, and that's just... wierd. Yeah, i'm feeling pathetically fragile right now.
When the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone,
When you're sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on
Don't let yourself go, 'cause everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes
Sometimes everything is wrong. Now it's time to sing along
When your day is night alone, (hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go, (hold on)
When you think you've had too much of this life, well hang on
'Cause everybody hurts. Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts. Don't throw your hand. Oh, no. Don't throw your hand
If you feel like you're alone, no, no, no, you are not alone
If you're on your own in this life, the days and nights are long,
When you think you've had too much of this life to hang on
Well, everybody hurts sometimes,
Everybody cries. And everybody hurts sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes. So, hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
Everybody hurts. You are not alone
Edit: Post #150! How perfect.
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| du wurdz und du feelins is con-fussin... | thu apr01-1142-4 |
Apparently, the best feelings are those that have no words to describe them...
Unfortunately, this just ain't true for me. Everything's gotta have a meaning, so i just sit, and sit, and sit... thinking only deeper, gathering frailty as i roll. Hey, that sounds too "boy"ish. Dammit. I haven't written for him today; that's probably why it sounds that way.
I read a really rather amazing journal today. His name's deletia. His writing's clear, descriptive, and a magnificant pleasure to read. It's brilliant, but not in the sense commonly used here: it's not cryptic or anything. The more cryptic you seem to be, the greater people think of you. But, with deletia, the brilliance is awesome and radiant.
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| just-plain-confused | thu apr1-1043s-2 |
I assure you: i have not forgotten you. I say this mainly to juliette, but there are too many others to list. I'm self-centered and ignorant, and times like this are always the worst. Please don't fel neglected; i still think of you, it's just, i'h having a lot of feelings which are just causing me great confusion, and i'm trying to deal with them on my own, without having to turn to anybody, or rely on anybody. I dislike that; dependance. It's so... weak. It's wise, i grant you that in all fairness, but, i couldn't do it myself.
Perhaps i'm being stupid. Perhaps i need to talk. Oh, but i'm so afraid of what you'll think of me!
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| boy | thu apr1-1040s-3 |
My other journal is "boy".
I created it because i felt, and can feel, myself gradually falling apart. I didn't wanna let anybody see/feel this (at least, not unless they really wanted). So, i forged a persona from my own. There're many more (talkingclock, alistair), but i haven't created them yet, so you'll not find them until i do, if i do. These ones are still a part of me, while boy feels seperate and different.
I left clues, in case somebody wanted to read me. I figured, if they -really- wanted, they'd find me. Boy is where the wild things doth grow; i think i wrote that in the first entry. It's where i can spite on all the things i dislike. It's also a place for my rhymes and crypticism. Here, i like to say how i feel, without some pretty mask. But, there are some things that just shouldn't be said by another. They have to be said by an individual, so you can take heed and ignore, if you need. I didn't wanna hide; i just didn't wanna cause any upset or anything.
I mainly wanted to hide away from lucy, because i feel as though our relationship is the most volatile, and i really don't wanna spoil anything for her, and others who follow "another" too, since it's a side of me i'm not all that proud of. It's still beautiful, in my eyes, though. At least, it was.
I admire those who found me. I think there was one... no. She was a special cicumstance. i was never afraid to admit to her, and i feel guilty for this, but my reasons for feeling this way have been explained. I don't wanna say anymore; i feel like i'm digging myself into a hole. But, if you're reading this; uhm... hi! Yup.
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| scribblescribble | wed mar31-1739-4 |
Why do i write so much?
Because my mind races too fast. I think of something, then that spawns two more things, which each spawn two more, giving me four trails of thought, then those multiply and mount up... And then there's the thoughts that're just sparked through influence and spontenuity.
I can't sit here; i doubt i'll be back for you tonight, Lucy. I'll see you in my dreams.
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| leaking | wed mar31-1644-3 |
boy's piano plays on; the tune rings through another's ears, paralyzing for all he can. he doesn't enjoy it; it justs comes naturally.~ we're both so locked within ourselves netither one of us can speak.
i feel like such a fucking idiot.
the ink blots are dry, but the pen's still there. while it doesn't leak, the fact of it's mere apparance is enough to shock away the light.
i'm sorry i can't be what you want me to be.
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| goldenyears | wed mar31-1633-2 |
David Bowie: "Golden Years"
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Don�t let me hear you say life�s taking you nowhere, angel
Come get up my baby
Look at that sky, life�s begun
Nights are warm and the days are young
Come get up my baby
There�s my baby, lost that�s all
Once I�m begging you save her little soul
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Come get up my baby
Last night they loved you, opening doors and pulling some strings, angel
Come get up my baby
In walked luck and you looked in time
Never look back, walk tall, act fine
Come get up my baby
I�ll stick with you baby for a thousand years
Nothing�s gonna touch you in these golden years, gold
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Come get up my baby
Some of these days, and it won�t be long
Gonna drive back down where you once belonged
In the back of a dream car twenty foot long
Don�t cry my sweet, don�t break my heart
Doing all right, but you gotta get smart
Wish upon, wish upon, day upon day, I believe oh lord
I believe all the way
Come get up my baby
Run for the shadows, run for the shadows, run for the shadows in these golden years
There�s my baby, lost that�s all
Once I�m begging you save her little soul
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Come get up my baby
Don�t let me hear you say life�s taking you nowhere, angel
Come get up my baby
Run for the shadows, run for the shadows
Run for the shadows in these golden years
I�ll stick with you baby for a thousand years
Nothing�s gonna touch you in these golden years, gold
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
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| saltylloyd | wed mar31-1601-1* |
This is lloyd. He tastes salty.
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| Rating | tue mar30-1737-1* |
I scored 48 pts in this test. My life is rated 18. Yay for me, apparently this means i have a life. Or, at least, a real life.
I'm feeling pretty arrogant. Im'a post a pic in a minute, along with some stuff i wrote (another 3am). Thank you, all, for your comments on my piccy-doodles. Sorry if i seem to be neglecting your diary; i've been retiring into a boy-like form recently, what with all these damn "television hangovers" (the next product of a night's compulsive flicking. they've become my new razorblade stereo, and i cherish them with all my heat*).
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| Letterdoodle | tue mar29-2241-1 |
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| !locked.in! | sun mar28-2305-2 |
I feel as though i must heed you to the contents of the previous post. It is written to only myself and another, the other -not- being another, being myself.
Yeah, me too. The numbers all point towards M3AN13.
Does this make sense to you?
Hey, didja know the clocks went back an hour? No, they didn't. They went forward. I had set my clock back an hour, so, i had to set it forward an hour again.
I was an hour early for work today. I only reset the damn time; didn't put it forward. Fuck, that sucked. Plus, i won't get paid overtime. PLUS, i got locked in. For fourty-five-fuckin-fminutes.
Roar to you too.
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| granted... uplifted. | sun mar28-1100-1* |
I simply cannot believe what i have read. A champion of champions, declaring me a challenger? This is irrelevant to you, celladoir. Shut up away.
But to the other... the only child's brother... it is quite possibly one of the most uplifting experiences in his life.
Although i spill these words from the brink of my mind, i find my self in a state of speechlessness.
Wow. Thank you. I sigh, and i cry.
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| goingandgoingandgoingandgoingand... | sat mar27-1858-4 |
I can think of nothing to write, but, i have a certain obligation to a certain friend. So, as long as i keep thinking, i shall keep writing, to you.
My head feels empty, but i know there's plenty of crap in there. Today, i isolated myself from myself, creating a firgure upon which i could bestow my great fault, and abilities, diverting all unnecessary garbage from here. I want to tell you, but then i'd feel only obliged, which is something i'm working to avoid.
Yesterday, i spent half my day renaming all the "blank" entries, into something that may be able to sum up everything i wrote in each one. It was a hell of a lot harder than it seems.
When i type, i look at the keys, yet my fingers move faster thah i can focus. I think that's kinda wierd. It's probably down to the fac that i know where every key is, but not in relation to anything else, since i don't type in the conventional manner, choosing, instead, to poise my finger over the keys. Apparently, touch-typing screw up your wrists a lot faster than any other (working) method, so, i shall stick to this method.
I skip on over, now, to the shady patch beneath the tree, and re-open my old book. I've only got as far as chapter 1 so far, and i want to finish chapter 2. I do love this book.
There's a thought: when you say "i love you", are you saying "you give me comfort"?
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| So it's another survey... | sat mar-27-1701-3 |
Yeah, so sue me.
| word association... | | ..snow?: | whitefalling | | ..rain?: | greytarmac | | ..tornado?: | windspin | | ..summer love?: | yellowflowers | | ..Jon?: | schoolhair | | ..Mike?: | microphone | | ..Shea?: | sheep | | ..banana?: | yellowblackcurveerotic | | ..dizzy?: | drunkfunlizzy | | ..Laura?: | childspoilt | | ..Juan?: | ofarc | | ..car?: | clunkredpollutionmetal | | ..white?: | pills | | ..peppermint?: | whitesofttrebor | | ..New Found Glory?: | oldgenrenothingnew | | ..placebo?: | pretendfakedoctorsimpsonsbees | | ..orange juice?: | dailymorning | | ..candid camera?: | domjollyinvasive | | ..sister?: | mothermarynun | | ..brother?: | bobplaystation | | ..hate?: | liersfeeling | | ..school?: | mandatory | | ..President?: | monkeycunt | | ..football?: | beautifulgamemyfuckinarse | | ..rap?: | mostlyretardsattemptingpoetryexceptasmallhandful | | ..pop?: | sexrepetitivesexrepetitivesexselloutchildrengenreyoung | | ..rock?: | heavycrushindustrialthrash | | ..punk?: | pinkyellowgreensexpistols | | ..sex?: | fluiddischargegrossickybutstillunfortunatelymostenjoyable | | ..death?: | comesandgoes | | ..baby?: | squishedfacepatheticsinnertobe | | ..duuude?: | littlebrothercopycatsurfer | | ..the end?: | lookingforawardtojoiningyoufinallynineinchnails |
The Survey Where You Say The First Word That Comes To Mind. Yay. brought to you by BZOINK!
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| >something.beautiful> | sat mar-27-1636-2 |
I think i've finally achieved it. I really think i have! Damn, that's exhilerating...
I have, since as long as i can remember, wanted to "make something beautiful". Whenever somebody asks me, "whatcha wanna do with your life", i respond with either "make people think" [the earlier one], or, "make something beautiful."
And, i feel, i have finally accomplished it. Of course, nothing will ever be perfect, in the sense of beauty, to everybody; different people have all their tastes, fetishes, likes and loves. But, i feel, myself, that i have achieved a close personal perfection.
I doubt anybody reading this has any idera what i'm on about; this one, like the last, is directed to only myself, and a tiny, tiny selection of hunter/seekers.
Well, that is, unless you've been here from the beginning, and realize, i am no more than another teenager, another blogger, another child looking for a pair of warm arms, and another hypocrite to complain about how shitty the world is. Wait, i missed one...
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| another boy | sat mar-27-0155-1* |
This place suddenly feels cold, like plate steel... or is this just me?
Please forgive me; i'm retracting from an elegantly carved shell, and having trouble re-adjusting.
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| Another survey. Yup, i'm bored. | March 26, 2004 |
| Big Five Test Results | Extroversion (40%) moderately low which suggests you are quiet, unassertive, and aloof.
Friendliness (70%) high which suggests you are very good natured, trusting, and helpful but possibly too much of a follower
Orderliness (52%) medium which suggests you are moderately organized, reliable, neat, and ambitious.
Emotional Stability (38%) moderately low which suggests you are worrying, insecure, emotional, and nervous.
Openmindedness (72%) high which suggests you are very intellectual, curious, imaginative but possibly not very practical.
| Take Free Big Five Personality Testpersonality tests by similarminds.com
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| hollow words | fri mar26-1556-1* |
Mr. G expressed, today, his concern for me, as i read aloud in class. He said, my words were hollow and lacked feeling, which is unusual for me, since i normally read with great feeling. True, my words were comnpletely hollow: shells from which the inhabitant had long departed; abonded buildings, left stagnant and stale.
I think i feel better now.
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| the only TRUE forms of love... | thu-mar25-2059-6 |
Listening to: NiN/Fragile Album/CD1
As Juliette said, there are a million diffrent types of love. I'm only criticising the types that get recklessly thrown around; the ones that breaks hearts and traumatise.
Other types of love include admiration and loyalty, amongst other things. These are the the types that i adore. The other type(s?) (above) are the ones that agitate me.
I wanna say that it would just be so much more pleasant if everyone just said what they really felt. But, then there'd be so many people left all alone.
Maybe this is why people find me so disagreeable (i'm generally extremely agreeable, but in a sensible mood, i'm quite the opposite)? Because i say what i mean?
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| Piano sweethearts, human abuse and the inevitable LOVE stuff | thu-mar25-2024-5 |
A girl today told me i look like the lady that sits atop the piano, looking seductive and sweet. I smiled sweetly and said, "thank you". I ponder...
Have you ever noticed, some people will do pretty much anything as long as they know they can get away with it? And that, generosity must be learnt, along with manners and other social etiquete? Fuckin' people. Hey, there's a good idea.
When a person says "i love you", does it ever mean anything more than "i have learnt to associate comfort with you"? Or, i suppose, "you give me some sort of security i allow nobody else to give me"? I'm not too sure i wanna post this, but i can't see any other way right now, so i'll leave this here, for you.
Doncha just love it when the lyrics are printed inside the cd booklet, so you can sing along while you're strolling along on your own, in bouncing naked on your bed, or humping a random hairy pig?
It occurs to me that "i love you" can be said in many different senses, but i'm just comenting on the one particular one (an example will probably appear below in this comment somewhere). I started thinking about it again while chatting to my mum. I happened to express my opinion that love is based entirely on perception (as briefly described above). She responsed with:
"yeah, but teenage love is very different to adult love. i remember when i was 17..."
Yup, that old one again. She calls her boyfriend and says, in the most ridiculous voice imaginable, "hello my sexy man!" Well, that doesn't fit in with what i was rambling about earlier, does it?? To top it off, he apparently replies with a self-demeaning comment, to which she responds (after "you don't feel like a [whatever-the-hell-it-was-she-said]?"):
"well, you're a [blah] to me!
Heh, it reminds me of myself. 3 years ago.
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| Alcahol Makes The Heart Grow Fonder... | thu-mar25-1944-4 |
My hair's all clean and stuff. I don't like it this way, 'cause it's all fluffy...
I was really sad earlier in the week, as Lucy went skiing somewhere. I'm happier now, though, 'cause i figure, absence only makes the heart grow fonder. Wonder why that is... probably because you're left free to construct the character you desire in that person, deriving comfort from the perfection you've created.
I'm wearing a long-sleeved, untucked green shirt with the cuffs undone (as always), a very loosely-tied tie with a funky design, standard baggy (striped today!) school trousers with the odd oil paint stain, and these same old black boots.
This is what i wear to school, every day. Euch. Shirt, tie, trousers.
I need new boots.
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| to Juliette | thu-mar25-1719-3 |
My heart swells and my eyes gleam; the fire you feel is my soul ablaze!
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| What?!?! | thu-mar25-xxxx-1* |
What the hell are you talking about??
Look at you! I mean, seriously, LOOK!!
You're fuckin' BEAUTIFUL!!
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| Glorius Child Education | wed-mar24-1934-5 |
Ready?
- My tongue is mute.
- The words are locked
- Inside my head.
- Beside my bed
- A bowl of fruit,
- And you who smile
- And talk to me
- And hold my hand,
- I knew you in
- Another time.
- I know you still
- But cannot speak.
- My tongue is dead.
- The words are shut
- Inside my head.
This poem, by Gerard Benson, was in my little sister's reading book! And she was supposed to read it to me! But it's so depressing! Blahhh! Here's another:
- I'm sad in my tummy
- And I don't know why
- I don't feel like paying
- I only want to cry.
-
- I don't want a story
- I don't want my tea
- I just want to have a rest
- On somebody's knee.
It's called "Sad", by Michelle Magorian. Why is this in a children's book??? I mean, i'm all for anti-censorship, but c'mon! I don't want my 8-tear old sister reading these words!
Yeah, i've got an eight year old sister (B/Podge). And a 12yr-old brother (Bob), and another, 16-yr-old, brother (HN/Tart).
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| Spooky-face-random-hungry | wed-mar24-1853-4 |
The previous entry thingy (it's me!!) doesn't wanna work on this computer. Dangit. Anyway; i was screwing around with the webcam, and i thought; hey! that'd be cool! So, i took the two shots, stuck 'em in flash-mx and made the gif. But, it doesn't wanna work!! I'm still hungry. I feed again!!
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| Ooohh.... | wed-mar24-xxxx-3 |
Look VERY closely...
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| Hero Schmero : Lier & Thief | wed-mar24-xxxx-2 |
Yeah, i know the last entry sounds all mushy and stuff, but hey, i'm trying to be truthful here. I'm hungry.
Doncha just hate it when your hero turns out to be completely full of bullshit? It's even worse when you don't actually have a hero, and discover you've built one up one somebody completely oblivious and worthless in the first place.
I'm still hungry. I feed now!!
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| The TRULY beautiful people... | wed-mar24-xxxx-1* |
Friends: I don't know anybody particularly personally here. I've never met any of you. I don't think of you in any highre sense than any other. I probably have no idea who you are, and you may not have any idea who i am.
But. I feel more accepted here than most anywhere else, even in my head. Thank you; thank you all.
'Cept smashingpumpkins, who's a big meanie.
No, seriously, even you, s.p.
Thank you all.
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| .,.,grrr.,., | March 23, 2004 |
GRRRR!!
(And this, for Sandy =))
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| .dirt. | March 23, 2004 |
This is for Juliette.
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| DoodleBot | March 23, 2004 |
Sitting amongst complicated explanations of simple equations, making my head hurt no more than usual. As the sound of nirvana rings through my ears, i realise: i think i'm wiring goth prose. How dreadful.
So, yea, listening to Nirvana trying to figure out how to use that damn vlookup function. I know how to do it, so why won't it work?? Bah.
I've been doodling and writing a lot, so i haven't updated. I run myself bone dry with my pad, and have nothing left to offer by the time i'm awake again.
Hopefully, this shall suffice as today's comment-entry-whatever. I had 4-1/2 hours of fuck-all to do, so i did 2 hours worth of doodles. Bugger.
I drew dirt; an image in my head, provoked by another... i scrawled a dangling sack of feeling, surrounded by the usual confusion... and i drew another (un)fairground; a pretty picture of my bleeding heart. Well, just a bunch of words arranged in a particular manner, actually, but that just doesn't sound as good, does it?!?!
Goddamnit!
The background doesn't show up well.
And i like that picture so much...
Until later... bu-bye!
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| night. | March 22, 2004 |
Thank you all, for your kind words.
They mean so much to me.
I have a headache, so staring at this screen is agony.
So, this is all i can give you.
~c
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| Celladoir Speaks... | March 21, 2004 |
Celladoir: Someone's feeling sad today?
christopher: long day. too much used-up happy juice.
Celladoir: Need a hug?
christopher: i don't know what i need.
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| Wait! That's not the end!! | March 20, 2004 |
I've always wanted to do a comic.
That was just the beginning. I want to make something beautiful (how many times have i said that?), and this is just the beginning.
Yes, i was alone. At least, i thought i was. In truth, people marvelled at me for my uniqueness, my artistic talents, my crazy concepts. I was interesting and alternative.
I wanna make something that says: it's ok to be different. Because, it is. Normal is boring; original is exciting, thrilling, and fresh.
Be different. Be original. Sure, you'll not be popular, like all those "cool" kids. But, you'll be yourself. And that's all we really need. That's all i need.
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| +comicbook+fairytale+?+ | March 20, 2004 |
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| Stoopid Scanny Thingy! >=( | March 20, 2004 |
Hey! It didn't scan all my face. Poopy.
Well, it looks really cool. I like it. Fuck you. Even if you like it too; fuck you.
But in a nicer way.
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| faith, van gough and... uh... | sat-mar20-xxxx-x |
Christianity. Why don't i belong to this "faith"? Well, what about the other religions? Accepting christianity means denying all other religion. I read somewhere that all other religions are labelled variations of satanism, except Judaism, 'cause of that guy that died. I just don't like "beliefs", choosing "ideas" instead. Besides, God is my fuck-buddy.
I don't like my "hand" background. But, it says something. I wanna cut off my right ear, but it'll hurt to much. Only my ight one though. Didn't 'Van Gough cut his ear off, to prove his crazed-glazed love to someone?
I'm feeling absent-minded today. I wanna chat to lucy. And olivia. And... uhm, well, everybody under "friends" (excep' smashingthingies, the meanie). I don't remember why smashingpumpkins is a meanie, but he said he is, so... uhm, yea. I feel really stupid. I'm gonna scan my head now.
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| Randy Razorblade | March 20, 2004 |
I tried writing to you last night, but it never works.
I would normally feel shitty right now, but you guys keep me up. Lucy, karin, olivia, julliete, sandy & nic especially (mainly cuz you update frequently!). Please don't feel left out if i haven't mentioned you; you still mean the world to me.
~Your Razorblade Stereo
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| stupidpicnumerouno | sat mar20/04 1504 #1 |
StupidPic #1: A smile a day...
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| Letters, External linking, Confusion... | March 19, 2004 |
I'm only allowing two entries per page for now, since the letters take so damn long to load. I'll probably change it back in a sec though (the scroll bar looks too big); you can hit "Stop" to stop the images loading. Maybe i'll link to the letters instead... well, whatever. Suggestions would be appreciated.
Lucy: I link from an external album, firstly, because i've already used up about half of my 500kb. Secondly, so i can quickly distinguish between my letters and standard images. Finally, 'cause SitD didn't wanna upload my letters. The meanies.
Here's a comment: "who is you, does it UNDERSTAND you, know you, or does it want to fuck you inside out.. is it real, is it worth the time." (--anon.)
I "is" me. I don't understand me, i don't know myself as much as i think i should, and i don't know if it's physically possible to fuck myself. Unless masterbation counts. Is what real? Masterbation? My cock? Uhm, last time i checked... Do you mean, am i real? Well, yeah, 'cause i'm typing this. And, no, i never think i'm really worth, but people read this stuff, and i like those people
If you're refering to my constant "you"s:
You are you, stoopid. And, i don't know if you understand me... do you? I certainly don't, so i'd be suprised if anybody else does. Nobody, including myself again, really knows me either. I could do with a good fuck. And wether or not you're real is kinda dictated by you, uhm, leaving a comment? Worth the time, though... yup! Every last one of you. Some more than most, but only because they make it so.
If you're refering to the "you know who you are"... well, they do know. Don't you?
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| LETTER #3 | March 19, 2004 |
L#3: Lonely, again.
Note:
Created after drawing half-way line on Letter #2. After #3 (this one) was finished after, the rest of the page (#2) was filled.
Translation may follow (if you really need it).
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| LETTER #2 | March 19, 2004 |
L#2: Why can't i stop smiling?
Scripted:
"When people look at me, i get this wierd urge inside of me; a kind of pushing, stabbing feeling. This is the feeling that makes me smile so goddamn much. I shouldn't complain; they (the people) normally smile back... but, sometimes, i just kinda wish i didn't _have_ to smile; that i could just be serious sometimes.
There are a lot of people around now, so i don't much feel like writing anymore. Moo. (moo again) Moo again!!!
Doodles:
Large Spiky thing: Rose (for another fake friend)
Circle, Square, Arrow: Earth: Humanity vs. Nature
Liney-thingy: Alterations in mood
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| Goodnight, to all, and to all... | March 18, 2004 |
Don't wanna leave you with that last one. So i say an extra-special super-dooper "goodnight" to all my friends, double that for my enemies. And... ok, goodnight, smashingpumpkins, you genius meanie. And, of course, goodnight to all you guys reading this who don't really know me. But, i don't know myself in complete truth, so... uhm. Yup.
Goodnight again, you. You know who i'm talking to. You.
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| Hand~external~beer~world. | March 18, 2004 |
I think i'd like to do more of those (hand-written) entries. They've had to be hot-linked from an external site, though... which is a pest, but hey! I get a free journal! I just saw that "dark...light" phrase on a beer commercial. Fuck. Anyway; i can do them at school, and when i get to your world, i can show you my thoughts.
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| NurpleShowersSinkFreddyHair | WED (mar-17/04) 2254 |
Work was great. Social is good to detatch states of mind. A great friend is on their way to another beautiful thing.
The sound of kisses on my breath is deafening; the smell of all flesh is still just as bad. Roll the dice, score a six, it's loaded today. Share my purple flowers with you, steal away your pink teddy bear, too.
Explain? Voices of lust, kisses and fucks ("sound of kisses"), echoing inside my head, cause confused, mixed emotions. Any sex ("smell of flesh") would still be as unsatisfying as ever. If you try me, you'll find me in a good mood ("roll the dice"), but i feel as though i have to be ("loaded"), that i'm doing it not because i'm plain happy. I'll share my world, show you my beauty ("purple flowers"[*1]), but steal your innocence ("pink teddy bear"[*2]) as sacrafice.
[*1] Purple is my perfect colour; its the colour of anything you need it to be, from bruises and galaxies. Flowers are nature and beauty.
[*2] Stolen 'pink' being a reference to virginity, the ultimate innocence to be taken (yea, right).
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| thesmalluniverse | March 17, 2004 |
I see cardboard hearts, paper houses and painted dolls. Little stars cut into black silk, doused with the blood of an opium virgin. Pretty little bitch; lap you up in my rusted milk saucer. Calligraphy of the genius is far too bland, thank you very much. Rusty nails and candy lips, meshed together with delicate steel thread. Clown face painted on my 6 inch pencil. Art is false, and smiles are mine. Yours is not to be told, but to tell, through lier's spray.
You know you're gonna die alone.
So why live your that way?
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| All i ever wanted was to love you... | WED (mar-17/04) 1124 |
I didn't like my face; it's a single second in a million minutes. Bye-bye chris face.
This stuff's all pretty boring, from here.
Typical 'wel my day was like this...' stuff.
I talked to my (recent) ex. Told her how i feel, how i'm sick of being her insecure fallback buddy. She grinned back; a confused, insecure, anxious grin, but a smug, arrogant one nonetheless. I remember calling her a bitch, feeling a blur of cream (coat colour) across my cheek, then her in my arms. I realised i had grabbed her, facing away from me. I let go, and got out as fast as i could.
Walked home (only took an hour); walking on raw feeling. I hate myself for grabbing her. Thankfully, mum (who's now convinced me to start talking to her again) proved to me that it was in self defence; it was an immediate reaction to prevent her hurting me. She said, it's just my automatic response to every time i've been hit (which is more than a lot of people). I still feel like a fuckin' abusive shit.
I do feel sorry for her; her mum's taking her out every weekend to get drunk and meet guys. But she still fucked with me; using me as the output, and still, doing the same. But, no more. I wanna call her and apologise for grabbing her, but her phone's turned off.
I can't end this post on her.
Uhm... i gotta get laid.
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