The Ersatz Gallery

colossi

Thu, 12 Jan 2006 01:36:53 GMT

Why dont you see it? why dont you see how brilliant everything is? its all lit up. its blinding. there is this beauty in pain/ henry miller said that the light of greece obliterates ugliness/ i read that and i think the light reveals the beauty of ugliness you just have to look at the details look closer oh i cant wait until you see it

its afunny thing

Wed, 10 Aug 2005 06:42:38 GMT

i spent the last week feeling like a had a cannonball shot through my stomach. i think its gone and im glad of it. although the different perspective was appreciated. i get filled up with so many different feelings that i shrug alittle and become indifferent to everything no matter how much i try and protest a book brought me out of the whole strange and bland funk i had been in i have a job
and i practice again
i read for pleasure
i have a whatever will be will be attitude but i dont know about the whole fate business i mean i am just another animal its been comforting to be so content with the way my life is shaping up every morning i make myself eggs i unwrap the tin foil around glossy dark yellow cheese and cut thick pieces off from the corner most little triangles that i flip into the whisked eggs
its satisfying to move the eggs around in the pan and watch as they slowly form into a scrambled golden
heap that molds to my slightest whim i put too much cream in my coffee and stir with the tip of my finger its too hot to touch, but that only eggs me on i look in a dirty mirror to gather my hair up symmetrically and put on a pleasing face for the customers mr anderson wants me to start pinning back my bangs i wish they werent so unruly each time i push them back behind my left ear the tension builds util they coming springing back with purpose gaining more and more waves each time apparently not looking your age can gain one many perks in life the taco time baby =remembering to say each thankyou and yourwelcome as each moment presents itself grabbing mints for later use theyre green and white and taste like shit but its better than a cassita burrito life should be better than this i think sometimes but there isnt much sense in it being so there has to be pain and pleasure and it seems to me that pleasure is the more destructive of the two im so glad i read that one

i talk to the wind my words are all carried away

Sat, 07 May 2005 14:41:40 GMT

he cleared his throat in anticipation of the solutes to come. with a wavering frame of mind he moved the spoon in sweeping gestures. life seemed fairly in order. while crunching generic cocoa krispies he mapped out his remaining routine. next: brisk walk then: groceries later: oh he didnt know about later
he liked to keep later ambiguous, it kept him going from day to day. today is just as i imagine perfect days he thought and gulped down some cold cold milk. gentle breeze, check. blue sky, check. white marshmallows spaced at appropriate intervals in the sky, check. and he wasnt in love. feelings weighed life down usually. and this was a day for a light manner. time for the walk. a mile radius in every diretion from the apartment. he avoided animals. really, he avoided nature in general on these walks. walking along the busiest streets and keeping eyes glued to the dirty pavement or the mechanical faces he got his satisfcation efficiently. it was a perfect day perhaps, but he wouldnt allow himself to enjoyit during the walk. maybe later. sometimes when he got in from the walk he felt sideways. it was too expected back home. but routine was all he had nowadays. the door clicked behind him and he sighed and. i am supposed to do something. what is it? it was screaming inside. thinking back he remembered all the faces. he kept himself so far away. and it hurt a little. no it it it was crippling his spirit. andhe knew it andhe kept on with the aloof act. all of the faces he didnt know a single thing about. he wanted to surround himself suddenly with people with strange people he ran out of the apartment. sweat dripped off his nose when he passed the walking radius. he stooped low to stroke a passing mut. he laughed a good deal. and just kept running. he got this notion of running past civilizatiion. hed miss the bodies and the faces but hed ah he didnt know and couldnt figure out his minds workings while he ran so goshdarn-ded fast. he had been in love once or twice before with one or two average girls withaverage hair and eyes average hearts and eyes and eyes he felt love now. it is pulling me down he panickeked a little.average eyes. he knew what to do later. he turned around and strolled now. he tooka route to lose himself but find average eyes. everybody needs it.but only for a minutte andonly average. and so it came to be that he stumbled into average eyes #2 quite purposefully. she was less average than he remembered. momentarily she seemed striking even. life was fairly in order. he had his eyes and he could look into hers. he liked seeinghimself through her pupils. but he didnt see her really. he thinks he needs it. andshe knows he does. he needs it.and so he has a routine again but he still hasnt figured out later

ah

Sun, 01 May 2005 22:49:56 GMT

mr. stanley donwood inspires me once again. stay tuned.

swoosh we are not robots

Sun, 20 Feb 2005 12:35:04 GMT

it has been a while, hasn't it...

vinyl

Tue, 25 Jan 2005 02:10:09 GMT

i feel so useless. overwhelmed by doubt and a sense of compassion. ich mochte nach Hause fahren.

we should become more adventurous

Mon, 17 Jan 2005 00:53:21 GMT

16 it should be my number. i want to wrap myself in melodies. i wish they could be my own. but i am an amateur. coffee. two lumps, two tablespoons creamer. stirred thoroughly. the butter on the toast has been spread sparingly. watching my figure. a tall glass of fresh squeezed orange juice is set neatly beside today's paper. scan the front page - seem interested - concerned - anything. and now i have a starting point. ich weiss, dass ich die Wirklichkeit liebe, aber ich war mude...ich war mit mir krank...
i guess i know what i am going to do with my life.

characters and viewpoint

Sun, 09 Jan 2005 18:16:35 GMT

i wrote something. i think i am going to stick with it this time. i feel like it has potential. i stood on a frozen lake. and i glided. my organs lately keep finding reasons to swell all at once. if you know what i mean. for a second there everything just became so damn clear. i knew it could never last. well. i will find out sooner or later.

never die never care

Thu, 30 Dec 2004 06:39:54 GMT

of course a ghost could not effect/affect this world.

because even the people that you call your friends can fuck you over in the subtlest ways it'll be your comfort that you're always alone they never cared about you anyways they never cared they never cared so much as when you lost your way...

she made the grandma squares while pregnant with my long lost brother paul

Tue, 28 Dec 2004 06:03:52 GMT

humbug. but i love unwrapping presents. i am so weary. yesterday...maybe the day before...i went around town taking snapshots of anything and everything that caught my eye. i ran out of film before reaching the hobbit house. on the hill that leads up to rucker's mansion i stopped my car in the middle of the street and got out music blasting to capture the essence of everett from up high...some random car came up behind me and i had to take the picture without as much preparation as i would have desired and jump back into the car. but i got it nonetheless. god, i really am weary. and i want to do something so badly. my mother made the mistake of loaning me the car for the night. blushing do not know why. missing something. know why.

the quilt was as old as my mother. her grandmother had made it during one of the many famines of that region and given it as a blanket to cover the dead in their beds. my grandmother had added less morbid patches when it became certain that no one would be lost. a skinny girl from her start my mother had always been awkward. she blossomed late. maybe 18. but she was slender so all the boys admired her. her husband had courted her years and years before she would even hear talk of marriage. she did not want to be tied down. a city girl. still is, only tired and old. i was born almost immediately. some questioned the legitimacy of my birth. but, they took it in stride. god knows how. when the hard times had struck, they stopped us going to church. the sermons weren't missed among the children. we all believed as strongly as ever. that quilt was black. none of the children knew what it had been crafted for. i remember fighting with my brother and sister, boris and clara, to get a chance to snuggle with it while listening to the radio. the weight dripped off our backs. the roof leaked and the rain dripped into so many rusty pans. it was a bad year. all the blankets were soaking one night. clara cried and cried. her face was red from all that crying. i wanted to hug her, but my parents gave us kids this look. we knew what they meant. they didnt want no reason to hate life. nobody should hate life. cant understand how the boy across the way could just just just tie that rope. we were naive. i think he was too. mother left us the night after that boy died. she went to the city, i say that still. father told us she drowned in the river. boris laughed, no he chuckled at that. what a strange boy he was. i guess middle kids are though. he gave up fighting for the quilt. so now clara and i locked in a battle till death right. but no. she is fine lasts though that famine. and things get better. sure we fight over the dumb thing, but we manage taking turns and all that. but she falls plum dead. daddy wallowed but he didnt cry or nothing. he was so quiet for so many days after. i could not even bring myself to look at that damn quilt. it was black and those patches stained with rain water. we buried her. and some relatives cried. i tripped over a root in the graveyard. a boy saw me do it and i blushed something awful. so things were changing. and i missed her, thats still true. but that damn quilt. i put it away. its in a ttrrrrrrrrrrrunk, locked.

that crackle is invitingly distractive

Sun, 19 Dec 2004 08:50:09 GMT

i feel like i should say something. lately, i have been writing an awful lot. on math hw, on napkins, envelops...on my old physics notecards. they should all be organized and recorded properly. but the randomness of their placement seems suiting. shiver. tomorrow i will be catching a plane. anything in my power that can be done to make the plane ride superb shall be done. can one say window seat? looking out at clouds, as the plane descends watching its shadow gradually increase in size until only a gigantic wing shaped darkness envelops my window. so relaxed at present. i want nothing more than to take off my clothes and just sleep. naked. and dreaming. it is amazing to be human. sometimes, and this is one of those times, everything is perfect. even with the anomalies that so obviously are not. i am an anomaly. mostly, i do not know what to make of myself. very droopy-eyed. will leave and write whenever my boredom pinnacles. i almost/do want it to crash.

there's a bluebird at the window

Wed, 08 Dec 2004 11:10:28 GMT

examination is pertinent. especially for one as fragile as this author. what could it be? well. it is possible that this long awaited return to the music of my hardships past/passed is bringing on the doubt that surrounds me. something. i think that one is always surrounded by uncertainty, at least i am. but it is so blaringly obvious this particular daybreak. once again i will be taking unnecessary action to rectify my flaws. or, my motivation will leave just as i begin. i will sit in a stupor wondering what it was that went wrong. my throat and forehead throb with pain. i wonder if karma came into play at all. the goals of my life are just within reach, but i am too fucking lazy to stretch for them. oh, goodness, i truly wish that i am able to do something soon to correct such a horrible character 'mistake'. you can cry - when you're trapped under ice - and the shadows play tricks on your eyes. i know that i would. ope. rachel is 17. i will sing to her. birthdays plague me. everything is just looming over me this morning. like some sort of perverted, twisted halo (this last bit is just a wannabe writer's frippery) glimmering in the pale moonlight, it reflects the moonbeams indifferently, will not glance at their shapeless light, will not consider the secrets they conceal. so. according to that. my halo hinders my sight. a visor? an excellent visor. money-making endeavor...imagine a profit from a visor constructed solely out of the anxieties of sad masses and maybe an ounce of cloves here and there. one of the alternative fuel sources i have been hearing about so often? i need to stop.

ben franklin knew what was what and understood the significance of the turkey

Thu, 25 Nov 2004 16:44:46 GMT

(another long one)
someone is screaming. the tone of their voice is shrill and sets my nerves on end. it will not desist. soon it fades into the background of my subconscious. an eerie thought. one's mind can over time become accustomed to even the most bloodcurdling of screams. i do not care from whence it came, but something unknown to myself draws me ever nearer to its origin. volume is steadily increasing, but my logic take no heed. "i have arrived" and he said it so blankly. his presence became a sort of black hole in the hallway - all emotions were vanquished - numbness prevailed. i can no longer distinguish the scream, my mind is crying out too loudly. this hallway is typical. photographs of several generations of a benignly happy family clan lining either side and every seventh is askew. i recognize the empty man still standing in front of me in one of the photographs. his expression is one of elation. and i grimace in disgust. now he gestures with polished hands toward one of the askew frames. hesitantly, i step forward to peer into the glass at this family of what i presume are now still lifes. the photo has been yellowed by age and is torn at random intervals along its edges, but its contents are clear - as clear as they need to be. once he was full of life. and i can tell by the way he holds her high above his head, smiling and looking proudly at his little girl. the quiet understanding that washes over me is followed by heavy silence. our situation has become more awkward than either of us care to admit. the stiff stature he had assumed has slackened and he has developed a rather humorous tick in his left eyebrow. every few seconds it raises convulsively and i cannot help but crack a slight smile after each indication of his inner insanity. but i must break this paralyzing silence.
"Hello."
"A little late for that."
and the scream comes rushing back to greet my still recovering ears.
"It requires the use of more facial muscles to frown than to smile." i lightly state.
"I prefer a good workout, thank you." his coldness radiates.
if someone who has attained, experienced, given, received! raw emotion, ever is able to let it fade - they are a fool. i shrug in response and leave the screams and vacant emotions behind.

guilt consumes me. and i am thankful for comfort food.

how should i know? what a terrible question

Sun, 21 Nov 2004 14:21:16 GMT

i have arrived. what a delightful phrase. "you look very pretty" and my knight said it! it seems as though most of my posts are full of abstract randomness and consistently lack any concrete details. i will be a little clearer this morning. things that have been happening in my life: i still have a job (at doolittles air cafe) and today is my last day working without a busser. on top of that, the busser they hired to work beside me is "my favorite". yes. i recently realized that i have spent every saturday for the past...well...i dont know how long...alone. including my birthday. pathetic indeed. yesterday (saturday) i went to the mall and temporarily remembered my gender. spent more than i had intended. i am reading once again. but the progress is slow. oy! i have not slept-in once since i have had this infernal hosting job. weekdays - up at 5. weekends - up at 6:45. ludicrous speed. fuck plaid. my grade point average was shredded to pieces, somehow my sane disposition was not. take back. i may never have had a sane disposition, in which case...it twur my apathy that escaped destruction. i am coming home on december 20th. and i can hold out until then (i think). saving my money. as best i can. want a destination that is exotic or at least intriguing. germany (dusseldorf or dresden), singapore, hong kong, tokyo, hawaii, prague, moscow,...these are what i have considered thus far. any other suggestions? honing my writing and pseudo-sketching skills as of late. plagiarism alert.
of course, it is boring to read about boring things, but it is better to read about something that makes you yawn with boredom than something that will make you weep uncontrollably, pound your fists against the floor, and leave tearstains all over your pillowcase, sheets, and boomerang collection. Like the water cycle, the tale of the IRIS consists of three key phenomena, but rather than read HER sorry tale it would be best if you read something about the water cycle instead.
if you do not know from which book i stole that...please regain your childhood at once. well, i hope you are reading about the water cycle or something else equally as boring. i am really upset. for various reasons, most of which i cannot identify myself. i know that i am homesick. i know that work + school = stress. i know that i am lacking any sort of readily available comfort or consolation. but. there is something else. and it is the worst of all. but. i do not know any of the 5 Ws and H concerning it. actually. i have some ideas. one can never be too certain though. i have mentioned the feeling of not existing a lot in this journal. i am a spacefiller. as much as i hate to admit it. or spacecrowder in some cases. do not feel sorry for me, i have got that much covered i assure you, journal. i should stop all of this whining and do some physics. haha. mr morgan. oddly enough i miss the person who once ruined my life. i miss the mr burns-esk hand thing he did. resting his elbow on the faucet. i made so many little mistakes. so many. i have revealed too much, i think, i will end it. the world is quiet here.

leaf green version aquired through a process known as bootleg

Fri, 12 Nov 2004 05:27:03 GMT

"look at her! she's perfect in every way! and she's older than us!" thank you bhumir. depressing notion, but the most unexpectedly flattering compliment i may have ever received has a terrible backlash. a random boy in my german class, hardly knows me, hardly talks to me. and yet. i do not like myself. and up until today there hadn't been a soul HERE who made me question the stance on the subject. and the savior was revealed to be on the peripheral edge! morally wrong? well, it should be. once again, i nearly left. i do not mean anything here. pointless. i have already related this reality. pointless. like i could pick up and leave without any repercussions in the wake. i try. pointless. but i do not mean anything. replaceable and forgettable. i hate my memory. sometimes i need to forget. and i cannot. is this pointless?

i said kiss me you're beautiful these are truly the last days...
you grabbed my hand and we fell into it like a daydream or a fever...

i have to. i feel.

Wed, 03 Nov 2004 16:45:08 GMT

why did i not think this through? a little rash. but it seems right this way, if it can be right at all. should i offer some sort of explanation? been brought up in schools where only the a's succeed. i have been an a. but i should not. i should not. creatures like me are molded into our pathetic selves by society. and i am so pathetic. i am taking the easy way out again. it is the only thing i know how to do. i do not think it could have been different. jenna. i will call u before the night has ended. another solution? should i just come home? i want to so badly. i really need to hug my friends and my family. i need someone to hold onto right now. this onset is so sudden. i am caught completely off guard. at this point i do not know. as once before i wrote, keep your metaphorical fingers crossed for me, dear journal.
best regards,
dirk calloway

ron aj and the unknown

Sun, 31 Oct 2004 03:09:00 GMT

when i said that my life would begin today i did not mean it. but it did. at least a life-altering event so altered my life that now i can say, "my life has officially started." bittersweet, unfortunately. everything is. it began with my hopes frighteningly raised and then crushed and then oh so slightly gaining resilience again only to be cut short. and then. up up and away. but down down down down to the cold pavement that i stood tiptoe on. but...it ended so swellswellswell. tongue-tied brain. i can hardly believe what happened. this is coming from the individual i/me, need i/me remind you. therefore this event would most likely hold no importance whatsoever had it happened in any other person's life. am i done with vague allusions to certain somethings? yes, but i will never get specific. screw. you.

okay you are not an animal okay

Fri, 22 Oct 2004 20:11:36 GMT

Lost in the wake........................................................................

Ambulance LTD - Ambulance LTD
...And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead - Source Tags and Codes
Aqualung - Courtesy of Ian P.
Architecture in Helsinki - Fingers Crossed
Asobi Seksu - Asobi Seksu
Beachwood Sparks - Once We Were Trees
- Make the Cowboy Robots Cry
Beck - Sea Change
Beep Beep - Business Casual
Belle and Sebastian - Dear Catastrophe Waitress
Ben Kweller - On My Way
Black Rebel Motor Cycle Club - Take Them On, On Your Own
Blonde Redhead - Misery is a Butterfly
Brendan Benson - Lapalco
Cake - Prolonging the Magic
Camera Obscura - Underachievers Please Try Harder
Coach Said Not To - Coach Said Not To EP
Cooper Temple Clause - Kick Up the Fire, And Let the Flames Break Loose
Death Cab for Cutie - Transatlanticism
Detachment Kit - Of This Blood
The Elected - Me First
The Faint - Blank-Wave Arcade
The Fever - Red Bedroom
The Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots
The Good Life - Album of the Year
Gorky's Zygotic Mynci - 20
Her Space Holiday - Home Is Where You Hang Yourself
Hint Hint - Young Days
Igloo - Igloo
Interpol - Antics
- Turn On the Bright Lights
Iron and Wine - Our Endless Numbered Days
McLusky - The Difference Between Me and You Is That I'm Not On Fire
Modest Mouse - The Moon and Antarctica
- The Lonesome Crowded West
Moth - Provisions, Fiction and Gear
Now It's Overhead - Fall Back Open
Of Montreal - Coquelicot Asleep in the Poppies: A Variety of Whimsical Verse
The Olivia Tremor Control - Black Foliage: Animation Music
Radiohead - OK Computer
The Rapture - Echoes
Ratatat - Ratatat
Rescue - Volume Plus Volume (Plus)
Rilo Kiley - The Execution of All Things
- Take Offs and Landings
The Shins - Oh, Inverted World
- Chutes Too Narrow
The Smashing Pumpkins - Melancholy and the Infinite Sadness
Sondre Lerche - Faces Down
The Stills - Logic Will Break Your Heart
The Thrills - So Much For the City
The Unicorns - Who Will Cut Our Hair When We're Gone?
The Velvet Teen - Elysium
The Weakerthans - Reconstruction Site
Yo La Tengo - Electropura
!!! - Louden Up Now

i am almost positive that a couple of the cds i have lost are floating in a blackholelike section of my brain

side note. with the exception of up to five on this list (sat on/forever misplaced) all this past week were stolen. i love rearranging the order of my sentencing sentences. doo doo doo doo it's true. approximmately one week and one day until officially my life begins. epiphany i had. effort beyond what is expected is a concept that i refuse to grasp. i saw shark tale. nuf said.

it’s a roseate opiate ruse of roguish rouge / that brings back my black and bruised blues

Sat, 16 Oct 2004 14:59:20 GMT

(bruised should be said, bruis-ed)
Extreme fatigue
Weakness
Shortness of breath
Confusion or loss of concentration
Dizziness or fainting
Pale skin, including decreased pinkness of the lips, gums, lining eyelids, nailbeds and palms
Rapid heart beat (tachycardia)
Feeling cold
Sadness or depression
my mother has an uncanny ability to maintain her rightness, even over extremely long periods of time. maybe i do have anemia.

when one does not feel so splendid

Thu, 14 Oct 2004 21:51:51 GMT

i force myself to hold my head high while walking down the busy city block. i would like nothing more than to give up this demanding posture and return to my usual habit of counting discarded cigarettes on the pavement, but i know that i must overcome this inane fear. countless eyes have passed me by. desperately, my flickering gaze searches for a comrade in arms. does anyone here even notice my ever mounting distress? do they even see me? they r immersed in their own lives and i in theirs. probably, i should give my life some sense of purpose. turn in notice at the office - maybe discontinue my attendance altogether. find a man. one who wants me back. i want to be wanted. we would leave this place. settle down in some remote jungle is south america. living off the land and each other. parasitic but a charming prospect nonetheless. my ears perk up at the dull roar of an oncoming city bus. duly noted. it is apparent that the fellow strollers have also heard the beastly vehicle's approach - they move back from the edge of the sidewalk. getting as close as possible to the oncoming traffic without actually endangering myself, i wait. nothing quite like the gust of pollution that follows the bus. breath in deeply just as it passes. my lungs burn with satisfaction. now i let my steps wander in zigzags about the sidewalk and occasionally gutter. oncoming pedestrians are roughly shoved - sometimes i find myself in a sort of scuffle. always ending with my face on the cement and a shit eating grin spread across my bloodied face. provoke them. they will not see me. a sign strikes my fancy. good night inn. inside rusty doors a lobby smelling of decay greets my senses. the sort of place i belong. of a different era - of a foreign sentiment - of a strange odor. behind a counter stands a middle aged woman with grey streaks in her smooth black hair. from her appearance one can infer that at one time men lined up to look at her figure and pretty refined face. i unenthusiastically wonder what brought about her ruin. something bordering between an exchange of grunts and small talk ensues. up the stairs, 3rd on the left. greatly exceeds all expectations. cardboard mattress meets my exhausted physique with so much welcome.

i wrote this during german. should i continue?

*i am going through an unspeakable amount of torture currently. my cds were stolen. probably only to be tossed in a garbage can somewhere. literally, i feel like i am being ripped apart from the inside. it took about a day to register, but im feeling it and i can hardly breath. how can i live without music? at least i have roguewave...i really hope all looks worse than it is.

what time was it? and where did you go?

Sun, 10 Oct 2004 16:28:42 GMT

the plot thickens. filled with an utter sense of stupidity, but content all the same. seems like i have posted this sort of semi self deprecating semi confusing entry many times before. maybe my life is cyclical. it is, i think. will i ever get over this? does nebody know to what i am referring? i do not believe anyone does. comforting notion.

*called in sick to work today. will call in later today to miss tomorrow. i do not want to go back. has caused far too much drama in this low-key female's life. missed much as a result. will not any longer.

galapagos islands

Tue, 05 Oct 2004 11:21:58 GMT

does anyone remember that episode of Rocko's Modern Life? pishposh. recently, i converted. one might say that i do believe in faeries, signs and dishwashers. Ben Kweller will be in town on my 18th birthday. i bought myself a lone ticket. i have decided wearing high heels gives one a sense of superiority that can be hard to come by these days. i shall do it more often. and in that state of gauze i will disturb the world less often with my prickly fingers. of montreal. welsh is an incandiferous language.
*PART II
currently hussied up and preparing for departure with a destination of cheapo. i might as well not exist here. i could leave and it would not make a difference in anyone's life. i get the impression that i am a bit like a gnat. buzzing around as people try to get their beauty sleep. a nuisance. i miss existing. i miss being known. i am a rumor here. a curiosity. i am that one girl. she doesnt dress like us... i miss having friends. and i mean...accomplices, if you know what i mean. i miss not coming home afterschool because i had somewhere to be and someone to be with. i hate coming home after school and going to the room to sleep because i dont have any plans and i dont expect to make any. i hope for the best and expect the worst. usually my expectations are realized. i really hate that. i really hate complaining and feeling sorry for myself. not enough to abstain from it. my synthesizer has arrived.

i disappoint you

Fri, 01 Oct 2004 10:10:50 GMT

at this time it is my opinion that people never truly change. how ive come to this conclusion isnt important, actually it probably is, but nevermind. i must momentarily make my way into the tile cubicle and cleanse my guilt ridden conscience. wont be attending school this morning. at least, i will not be marked present in any of my classes. still have to drive the carpool. will purchase a cookie from the cafeteria and make my way back home. absence due to...let me say a fever. with a little luck, my aunt and or uncle will be convinced of my recovery by the time school is out. wishing a boredomless weekend in my future.

*They are not worth a lot. He puts down the old photographs and lets out a sigh. Glancing around his linebacker set of shoulders he is relieved to see that no one witnessed his peculiar actions. Not that they were worth anything anyways. Once he regains his composure he will return to his place of dwelling. A small apartment three blocks down and across from a laundry. He had to avoid the landlord until tomorrow. How can one expect to pay rent and eat on minimum wage. Well...he did expect to, but that was beside the point. His frivolous activity often took up the better parts of the weekends. On Monday, he would sit on the sidewalk outside the site of construction and open his lunch pail. Empty, but it filled him nonetheless. Maybe it reminded him of the weekend just past. Memories could certainly take up quite a large section of the stomach if they and their rememb'rer willed it. Without a proprietor his mind would soon go numb, but he was apathetic to the notion. Indifference ruled his emotions. Nothing had come of his dealings with the opposite sex, or his own sex for that matter. Without a proprietor he would soon go numb. Routine drove. Every weekend must follow its set course. If even once he forgot to walk down to the Church on a Saturday morning, his entire sense of reality might collapse. Taste buds would be the first to go. In fact, he could hardly taste water or mushrooms any longer. Well...he could keep them in his mouth for long periods of time. Due to a lack of consistent consumption the process had been hastened. Without a proprietor his mouth would go numb. So he goes to the Church. He picks up the photos and he checks for observers. His eyes water when he fails to blink and he fails to blink often. Staring. The people are not from his past. Nor from any live person's. But, he remembers all the same. Usually, he just grips their edges for a few hours, staring, failing to blink, rememb'ring...sometimes...well...that was when he would check twice and then once over again to make sure none were present. Sometimes he brought the exacto knife. He cut out the faces. He shredded their smiling faces with his barehands. How?! So much joy! And they were not here. They were not here to show him how! How?! The priest would shake his head and pretend not to have seen the awkwardly handsome man come in again. Why that man went through the old childhood photo albums of the nuns past was puzzling. He raised no objections. A man of the church knows stranger things than most. This was certainly strange...possibly god inspired the priest mused. The man continued the routine until all the smiling faces were gone. When they had gone he laughed until he cried.

end misery loves company

Wed, 29 Sep 2004 09:56:56 GMT

i have lost more weight. i do not know what is wrong with me. in the words of elise from battle arena toshinden, i will never give up. i am currently resolved to give up on the whole sharing my "artsy" photos with the online community. actually, i had been contemplating not writing at all. in this. not at all is a strong statement. reasonable doubt. no reason not to. i'd love to feed the trees. interesting to think about what can reach out to ur conscious. have approximately one hour until i need to shower and ready myself for the shock of a building full of pubescents. what would i do without music? approximately one hour has passed. i should get going.

newtron style

Sat, 25 Sep 2004 22:21:46 GMT

insert every cussword known to mankind here. ask, if u like.

*issue discussed and disaster avoided (insert sigh of relief here)