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apathy is harder than it looks
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29.9.03
Q: If everyone else wasn't jumping off of a cliff, would you?
the one and only correct A: It depends on the numbers and flavors of the gumdrops on the bottom of the cliff. Keep in mind one red one is worth about 27.5 orange ones or forty two googleplex purple ones.
02:54
27.9.03
living in lies is always easier when you are not alone
02:29
25.9.03
When strangers look at you, ninety nine percent of the time it is because they are looking for someone else. As soon as they realize you do not fall in that lucky one percent they give up on you and turn their eyes to someone else. Sometimes all it takes is a glance to pass judgement. Sometimes it prolongs into stares, but it always ends the same way: with a turn of the head, a shift of the shoulder, and a twist of a heel away. I say it is time to stop this nonsense. This snap process of snap judgement and denial. I propose the avoidance of looking at each other. This prevents visual biases so many, including myself, seem to live off of.
02:37
22.9.03
my goal in life is to make my friends believe they're drunk when they are around me.
22:50
if you lie enough, people will start to believe you. maybe you'll even believe you.
21:31
I, over the period of the last several minutes, have become painstakingly aware of my poor English skills. Try as I might to pass the blame off on my English teacher, damning him for my grammatical errors and spelling mistakes.
02:06
It's early in the morning and I sorta want to see the iron cheffff!
I had a lot of free time when I started out...
I couldn't find the remote, now my battery's run out
and it's earrrrrly so early in the morrrrning
It's early in the morning and I sorta want to see the iron cheffff!
dude, five guys named moe is the men.
02:02
muh muh muh muh munkey!
so you better be weird for weirdness sake!
http://www.weebl.jolt.co.uk/
01:59
I am fully aware of my poor english skills.
01:58
I aspire to be a sponge; a sponge in all manners. Sponges are gods. Sponges are black holes. Sponges are collaberations of thousands of singled celled organisms, a colony. They are dead civilizations used for scrubing another's floor. We are all part of various sponges that will inenvitably die. We are sponges in ourselfs, our brains nothing more than a collaberation of thoughts and feelings, each one a cell. We love our immediate sponges, obsess over them and forget the rest. Larger ones we take part in lie out of our vision. Smaller ones give us headaches when we try to look into them. I wish to see all of my sponges and embrace them. One person cannot truely understand himself until he knows what he is part of. (Thank you mr moore the the english skills)
01:58
21.9.03
Night steadily slips away like the scent of a dairy farm while you drive by one in your car. The stench really didn't ever go away fully. Instead you grow partially accustomed to it and have it become part of you. The wafts of night blur into my consciousness as I drag myself back to my cave. I crumple myself pathetically into chair as if i was a piece of paper full of errors suitable for the wastebin. My heart collapses in on itself pushing my body full of blood injecting the sting of life again and again into my worthless body.
04:24
17.9.03
Refuse the muse.
Purge her from this place.
Fling her from the stairs and let
her fall upon her face.
fill your brain with boring thought,
of meter, feet, and rhyme,
give up all your original sins,
submit yourself to mine.
18:10
15.9.03
This post was stupid and therefore has been deleted.
Brought you by the N.C.B. (Neal Censorship Board). The Neal Censorship Board is commited to protecting you from hazardously boring ideas even though you take it for granted. Support the people that prevent the colonization of your house by squirrels, send money to the NCB today!
The Neal Censorship Board
67 spear street rm 323
Burlington, VT something something numbers stuff
01:25
8.9.03
all my force goes into the door. the hinges scream for mercy as they give in, guiding the wooden barrier on its path. wood meets steel as the frame stops it an inch in front of your face. the collision tears through air as a bang; the discharge of a bullet. ricocheting off the frame, the wooden slab slams back against my palm like a recoil of a pistol. i close my eyes, see your face covered with blood, and smile.
00:20
i cling to all that is past as it clings to me. i let it weight me down, but it gives me security, a sense of familiarity like the creepy old furnace that turns on in the middle of the night with the startling hiss of a hell beast.
00:04
7.9.03
~ALERT~ ~ALERT~ ~ALERT~ ~ALERT~ ~ALERT~
As your children prepare to reenter the real world from the outer space that is high school, we find it necessary to notify you there will be a four year period of radio silence. During this communications blackout, you will be unable to see, hear, touch, taste, or smell your children. Some of these are good, some of these are bad; what is important is that you continue sending them money so they may purchase exotic animals such as the kinkagou and the gorilla until they are kicked out of college because their of the manner their horde of wild animals has instituted a reign of terror over the dorm by engaging in such practices as defecating in the ears of the inhabitants as they sleep.
~Brought to you by the Department of Life Affairs (life affairs such as the playing of frisbee on the top of the dorm at 2am and the tobboganing down three flights of fecal-matter-covered stairs protected only by a thick layer of stupidity)
Editor's note: The Department of Life Affairs does not imply nor deny any such aforementioned activity nor the ritualistic slaying of toaster ovens. Some of these may or may not have happened depending on whether or not we acquired adaquate funds. We are always in need of funds so please send us money or at least hate mail and bombs. Be sure to clearly label the donations as such on the envelope and the hate mail as such in a corresponding manner so we may respond to your hate mail by sending you so much junk mail asking for money that your house will fill up with it and you'll have to swim through the mail to get around and do everyday things such as ritualistically slaying your toaster oven and eventually you will accidentally swallow some mail and get massive interal paper cuts along your esophagus and bleed to death and die.
15:35
the most useful moral I obtained while on my trip in Japan was that mistakes happen but women don't. Song of the moment ~ el scorcho by weezer
15:20
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