"about:blank"{dr. who}? | sirhC{thyme of aLPHA}? | novemberry eleven; seven-eleven; eighty-one; scorpionic {GPS}? | toronto kkkanada {gender}? | variable {illness}? | idealism. yes {by design}? | to create new world using smouldering rubble of spent eMPIRE {my shadow}? | s n e l l a |
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Archive this now, bitch.....Thursday, March 4, 2004 08:14 p.m.i have never felt so alone soundscape: Heathrow or Deathrow -- the dears go up Yesterday Never TomorrowsWednesday, March 3, 2004 12:58 a.m.it feels like i wont allow myself to write unless i talk to you. but i havent heard from you in many hours. its hard to remember how i got by when you were in italy. but i cant do it anymore. it mostly feels like you're gone forever. but what do i want? do i want you to sit at home and wait by the phone for me to call, just because i want to talk to you so badly? i do that, i have been doing that for months now, i dont know why. and i let you call me because i am afraid that if i call you wont be there, that you will be out. and you usually are out. but i am almost always here when you decide to call. is that the problem? Now i am beginning to feel the ugly potential of my possessiveness rear its head. You are no doubt out with him. it makes me feel strange. it almost feels as if you spend more thyme with him than you do with me, but that cannot be: we spend huge amounts of thyme together. but its just that now its like you want to spend thyme with someone other than myself, and it hurts. and to know its a person who once harboured [or still does harbour] desire for you and had designs on you makes me feel insecure. these are my demons; i just thought that i should share them with you since they have decided to surface -- do not take these on as your own. if your friend jenn wanted to see the witch's play, would you see it with the three of us, or would you see it seperately because you would have difficulty dividing your time between the two of us? you see my point i hope. i am so dramatic, and i tend to blow many things way out of proportion, and this is mainly a result of my growing insecurities about everything it seems...and these are like i said my problems.....so why am i even letting you know about them? they can only serve to put pressure on you to modify your behaviour, which is very manipulative of me. its not that i think you will run away to the French Riviera with him or anything, its that i think he will become more important to you than us. i think that our relationship needs mending right now, and spending so much thyme with another guy just wont help. are you escaping the depressing swamp that is our relationship? i mean, what do we do when we are together? we dont talk much. we stay in and watch movies and eat out too much, and then we eat junk food and watch more movies. with him you do things that i suppose i would never do, and i guess that you want to do them; i imagine that they are far more interesting and satisfying and stimulating than almost anything we do together. perhaps thats another reason i feel weird about all of this. with me its the same old thing for years; with him its something brand new and exciting, something we can never regain perhaps. i wish i could just honestly say that i dont want you to stop doing what you are doing, that i will get through this by myself. but i dont know anymore. i know its wrong for me to wish you to stop, but that is what i am feeling, maybe only right now because i feel so weak about it all. I dont know what is going on with me, and i dont like it at all. i feel i am close to becoming something or someone that i despise. I really do need you more than i ever have, but then when you are there somethymes i push you away because i feel sickened at my utter dependence and i also feel that you arent really the same person anymore. i find myself wondering what or who you think about when alone or when we share silences together. i never really did that before, and it scares me. a lot of things scare me. soundscape: Fevered -- The Stills go up the drunken sunday evenings...Monday, March 1, 2004 06:42 p.m....will just be innuendos i have neglected the little space that only one other person reads for far too long; but when you barely take care of yourself for so long, you tend to shut everything else down, push it away. and what else i could not feel the meaning in words: i did not write one word because they were all empty, they are always empty really, merely symbols to help facilitate understanding. but words are all i have, they are the one piece of sodden deadwood upon which i depend to get me through the storm. callously i thought i could go it alone, and i almost drowned, literally it seems. but not really. i still cant say that things are looking up, but i can say rather that I am looking up, from way down here, and the planets and stars and comets and love and hate and passion and apathy whirl about above me, always smushing into each other, creating new colours yet to be named. i hope some day to name a few of them. baby steps though, right? love and death are always on my mind I went to the caf (which i havent been to for nearly two weeks) and all the food made me sick -- either too much or too dead looking. but food is supposed to be dead, right? never mind, so it looks like more toast and cereal for me tonight, and you must be fake with everyone except for the ones you love but if the world were to end right now who would you cling to? I never think of how much i miss you when you're with me..... Montreal was a blur, was it not? Too little thyme, not enough wine, "loving you's a black hole", and i am fear. Thyme now Marches on and i dont feel like a student anymore, i feel like a traitor to my family and soon enough to everyone else, almost like you must relinquish your hold on everything to discover what is truly yours. but then again they are only words and i am afraid that not only have i lost their meanings and the ability to create my own, but that i have also lost you, or that i am losing you, piece by piece, and i feel helpless. soundscape: Of Montreal -- The Stills go up scorpionicWednesday, February 11, 2004 09:56 p.m.i am feeling especially verbose today, and actually in somewhat of a good [some might even say great] mood. i hope it isnt merely the antidepressant i took today -- coffee. perhaps it is because i am for certain going to montreal on monday, and i am spending that thyme with the one person i love unconditionally and fully. what more could i ask for? but i still think about my lack of action this year, the fact that i have done nothing i can be proud of, nothing that has really helped anyone outside of my usual circle of acquaintances. and i wonder if i even deserve to go on such a wonderful trip with such a wonderful person when i pass shivering homeless people on the street every fucking day. the pull in my heart leads me to them, but mostly i make myself look away because it hurts too much. there have been thymes when i have given people on the streets money, somethymes more than i could reasonably afford, but it never ends. i cannot be solely responsible for the welfare of legions of people i dont even know. its great that at least my anger is not directed towards the homeless, rather it is towards this life, this wonderful life that makes it okay to sustain ourselves on the misery of others. why would it be perceived as bizarre if i shared my bed with a stranger who had not one of his or her own? would my father be impressed if he knew that i have given twenty dollar bills to the cold faceless voiceless nameless forms that appear like apparitions on the concrete? he would not. it would be seen as irresponsible and ungrateful, i am sure. lately i have been confused as to why i am here, what i am supposed to do. what is my contribution to the world? am i to write? am i to scrawl cliches forever in obscurity and think that helps anything at all? or is there something else? i cannot be a leader, i shrink from that position, i havent the desire or the confidence to direct and mold people. fuck, i have barely had the confidence to leave my room of late. but i feel that i am supposed to do something that is not meaningless...something vital. last year there was momentum, there was collective passion, there was righteous anger. i was involved, i felt i was helping to forge some kind of new phase of activism in this city, but then it dissolved into the typical sectarian bickering, doublecrossing and backstabbing. now we have an antiwar group here, committed to not rocking the boat and making their revolution PG. yes, lets have another march against war, but is that all? again? what happened last year was a massive squandaring of potential. there was so much anger, so much energy, so much passion, and yeah it was beginning to foam at the edges. but then self-appointed 'leaders' decided to turn their back on that passion, they wanted to tone things down a bit, they had to take a stand against 'violent' demonstrations: these would happen at the tail-end of their offically-sanctioned do-nothing marches, because people were getting tired of being led around like sheep and seeing it have no effect. yes, last year we made history, lest we forget. but the passion is gone, now it seems like we're going through the motions, a pantomime of dissent. Still, I will be there on March 20, perhaps some like-minded people will be there too. in keeping with the verbosity, of course the moon is in Scorpio. i noticed by looking at the dates on my scrawled poems, that i seem to write when the moon is in scorpio. i write a poem, and then a month [almost on the mark] goes by and i go back to the poem, to revise it. or i write something else. so i have the next few days to do something about that. the sad thing is, if i want to be a writer, i will have to want to write much more than when the moon is right, or else i will have little material, little practice and even less confidence in my abilities. Enough. C. soundscape: By Any Means Necessary -- Atari Teenage Riot go up too much dried fruit is badSunday, February 8, 2004 02:37 p.m.so i guess we are actually going to montreal. finally after all of the uncertainty and waiting. maybe that trip will make me feel better about things, perhaps it will inspire me. nothing much really seems to do the trick around here, even though there are lots of things i could do and places i could go to help. i just dont want to. so montreal will be nice i think. this thyme i wont be in the suburbs at all, which was depressing and weird, because of the farting greyhound. thats another story though. yeah. what a lazy sunday. and i am alone. usually i am with you, so i dont quite know what to do with myself. i already read the paper -- now what do i do? i dont feel like writing, and i have no list cuz you never called to tell me to make one. isnt that funny? maybe instead of writing, i can just clean up the stuff i have already written; the poems i scrawl the werd 'draft' to, so i can force myself to at least look at them again. but i dont even know when a poem is finished. it never is, really. whenever i go back to one that i 'completed', i always seem to end up changing some part of it. i suppose that is one reason to get them published; so i can see them in print, and know that other people will read them in that exact form. i suppose that gives them some finality in ones mind. yes. why not? today i will go over the contest stuff, and choose which ones i will submit. fuck, even though most of the competitions [i hate that werd] have a deadline of later in the year so i will not know until then. still, i will start thinking about it consciously. and there are actually a couple of places i would like to get a couple only published, no competition. speaking of this. i got another email from those poetry dot com fucks, trying to convince me to go to their 'annual symposium' to read one of my poems. please. they send that to everyone who submitted their shitty poems on their site. apparently i was supposed to be given a prize. they even showed me a picture of it [which was obviously CG]. and i would be entered for the grand prize of 75 thousand. the catch? pay like six hundred dollars to register, and then pay your own way to get there [Florida]. please. i wonder how many people waste their money on that ego-masturbation fest, and then poetry dot com [or the International Society of Poets] rake in the dough, so that they can line their pockets and continue to fleece amateurs like myself. no thanks. now i'm lost. C. soundscape: Almost Crimes -- Broken Social Scene go up 'shall i abide in this STY?'Tuesday, February 3, 2004 12:39 p.m.my room is messy, so i fill it with incense to block out that unpleasant reality. 'slept in' today, missed class, but i had a lovely talk with her instead. which was a million thymes better than hearing about war and then dead writers. won't we all be dead writers someday? what if our civilization is destroyed, and then in the distant future our descendents find the remnants of the Empire? what will be the works of 'literature' they examine? will it still be the writings of the traditional storytellers, or will it be our emails [found on some abandoned server], our broadcasts, our letters of complaint and desperation and hate and dogma and spirit? or will it be political speeches -- those tapestries of lies spun not by the politicians, but by people like David Frum and other speechwriters. Words meant to deceive, to manipulate, to exploit. Will they look upon these works as the ramblings of a confused people, a people who had lost touch with themselves and with nature? What, exactly, are we leaving our children? Better to wipe everything clean and start over. I wonder how maredeath is. the only way i would ever really know is from her journal, but she has no access to a computer. i suppose i shall have to stalk her -- i mean visit -- *ahem*. i hope she enjoys living there, and with a roommate and all. roommates suck. if i had one right now, he/she would hate me. i am such a slob, but perhaps i would not be like this if i was not alone all the thyme. i would bow to social etiquette and clean up after my slobster self. haha SLOBSTER. now there's a word for you. i really should keep werking on the zine, so at least i can get the over and done with, well, over and done with. then i can start with new things, present day things, to hone my writing 'skills'. and yesterday i found some info on local poetree happenings. not that any of my stuff is even meant for spoken werd, but it couldnt hurt, right. and i have to get on the ball when it comes to writing more, submitting to competitions [since i still dont have enough to publish in any big way], and looking for a job. Blaaaah, too much, i dont want to recoil from it though, like i have been doing for months now it seems. i mean, how long cna a person wait before jumping from a burning building? nobady is going to rescue me this thyme, so i might as well jump, in the werds of Mr. Roth. What a geek. Just geek. C. soundscape: Naked Cousin -- PJ Harvey go up #$@&#!Monday, February 2, 2004 05:53 p.m.i really hate this place. i mean it. of course you could say that it must be my mindset at the moment, but consider that it is the inherent dismality [i know that isnt a werd] of this place that is causing this mindset. how can a fucking million-dollar institution be RUNNING OUT OF FUCKING JUICE?!?!?! FUCK. theres like TWO bottles of juice in the entire caf. and door handles are falling off, i am sure one day we wont have doors -- they will too fall off. what the fuck am i doing here, paying for this shit? paying thousands of dollars a year so that fucking bitch at the top of the York hierarchy can rest easy in her million dollar sofa? fuck her! this institution does NOT turn out critical thinkers, it merely teaches us to be more intelligent and cunning slaves for fucks sake. to learn how 'the system' werks and then exploit that for our own advantage. Oh good. FUCK why should i even care about grades? will there even be normal life next year? will we be plunged in massive civil unrest if that FUCK 'wins' the election? i fucking hope so. i cant be certain that i wont want to return to school later, but i have burned bridges before and this sounds like another good one to set aflame, does it not? International Studies here (supposedly the best in KKKanada or ontario or something) sucks my ass right out of me, seriously. Stuck with trying to reinvent the wheel it seems. rearranging the furniture in the WTC. things are changing. yes we must know the past. but we must know that the past is lies. we have been lied to, and if you dont see that then you are also a liar and your head will be sliced right off when the thyme comes. Too caught up in THEORY when history is happening right NOW in front of you. wake the fuck up. The UN has nothing to do with human rights [nor NWO you conspiracy fuckwits]. it is too big. global governance is wrong no matter who or what is governing. the power and legitimacy is in groups of people interacting and acting together and seperately. no one person has the right to dominate [govern] others. the alternate forms of living are growing and spreading, taking root almost as if they are completely new ideas [they arent -- read ACTUAL history]. my brain is boiling. i feel like a lunatic. i am. dont listen to me. see for yourself. open your mind. go away. soundscape: sand river -- beth gibbons go up i suck at htmlTuesday, January 27, 2004 12:15 a.m.i taught myself the basics a while back, so i could do this page, but i am kind of stuck in a rut with it. the stuff i learned is old skool html, i didnt really learn that much css, which is the big thing now; i learned html 3.0 i think, what are we on now....4? who knows. finally i resurrected the online incarnation of brand X, and i have begun setting up the second and (so far) last issue of brand X in print form. i wanted to make it look different from the first issue, but like i said, i suck at html, or more accurately CSS. and i dont want to take the thyme just yet to learn it all. fuck, even the tiniest bit of "div id" crap on snella's page baffled me for a long thyme. i think i got it now. so its good that maredeath fixed your page up, because i wuld have taken a thousand thymes longer, and it probably would have ended up looking almost eggs-actly like mine. must end this abruptly: i am "pre"..... C. soundscape: Starįlfur - sigur ros go up that was pure magicSunday, January 25, 2004 11:03 p.m.last night and today i was with snella and she was breathtakingly beautiful. i will miss her. C. soundscape: jazz waltz no. 3 -- the dears go up Radical change will not be negotiated by governments; it can only be enforced by people.Saturday, January 24, 2004 01:51 p.m.the World Social Forum this year had some problems -- just like last year. Remember Lula from Brazil, the hero of the WSF last year? hes a whore now, but what would you expect: hes in government. the institutional structure dictates that anyone within its shadow will have to act in certain ways, unless they wish to be devoured and spit out. Well, this years WSF had different but similiar problems. there is a growing number of people who are questioning the 'anti-globalization' credentials of the WSF; they are presently called the Mumbai Resistance (MR). they point to the fact that they were denied permission to march, whilst the WSF rally was allowed. hmmmmm. divide and conquer anyone? sounds perfect. anyway, i just wanted to show anyone who cares this quote and the speech from which it came, by Arundhati Roy, who spoke at the World Social Forum: "To applaud the U.S. army's capture of Saddam Hussein and therefore, in retrospect, justify its invasion and occupation of Iraq is like deifying Jack the Ripper for disembowelling the Boston Strangler. And that - after a quarter century partnership in which the Ripping and Strangling was a joint enterprise. It's an in-house quarrel. They're business partners who fell out over a dirty deal. Jack's the CEO." C. soundscape: March of Death -- Zack de la Rocha go up a slow deathThursday, January 22, 2004 03:59 p.m.i will never forget his face. the old farmer in India, standing shirtless in chest-high water, shivering in the rain and cold, as the water slowly marches up his skin. His face was the face of a million deaths, it was the scream of a forgotten people, a people thrown away into the dustbins of history, a people deemed disposable and not human by the state. when i saw the look in his eyes i burst into tears, and i am still crying now. i just know that he was not going to leave; he was going to let the water climb and climb until it eventually consumed and submerged him and his village. for some reason the feeling i got from his tired old eyes was far more disturbing and sad than the eyes of the many young girls who accompanied him in the water; proabably because he has lived a hard life, and perhaps he has even been fighting all his life. why can this happen? why is it okay? how then is a state a 'rational unitary actor' when it can submerge entire villages without resettling them? how is realism a philosophy that sides with the weak when they are starving and cold, and watching and waiting for the water to take them away forever? They have been fighting this monster for a long thyme, they have garnered international attention, yet still people are losing their homes and choosing to be drowned rather than removed. Their courage both awes and frightens me. What will it take here? How much shit will we common people accept here in privileged North Amerikkka, until we realize that we too are being slowly drowned, submerged in slavery, dragged under by empty promises, consumed by our own fear? What will it take? soundscape: Untitled #4 -- sigur ros go up cerpin taxtTuesday, January 13, 2004 07:34 p.m.i really just want to kick my dumb ass and scream "What have I done?!" over and over, like Dr. Frankenstein, but then i have brought to mind that our pride could be the reason for so much violence; our unwillingness to just give in and take it (up the ass, etc.) is what leads to war and the like. maybe but i am not sure, just like i am not sure of anything anymore, really. and how i need to actually DO the thing in order to see if i should actually Do it, rather then attempt to predict it, since consequences are unpredictable, right? Still i should have known that it would not have been easy, and it really is harder than anything, EVER. like holding my breath, i am beginning to see things, i am dizzy and my head hurts. but is it pride that refuses me? or is it some weird desire to punish myself and the one i love by extension? or do i actually wish to try the impossible, to weather the immense pain in the chest and lump in the throat, until some as yet undetermined thyme in the future when i can breathe a new air? I seem to forget that evolution takes so much thyme, and i probably will not have evolved enough to breathe a different atmoshpere atmosfear of being without the oxygen that is the sustenance hypoxia after less than 24 hours. but is it mere withdrawal, a sick dependence on the stuff, or is it something more, something far more rewarding and real and special....? And i am ultra surprised that the fuel of my existence has not yet forced itself into my lungs -- amazed at the resilience of that seperate entity, as desperate as it may have seemed only a few hours ago. Should never i have underestimated the vindiction of one so badly scarred, one still traversing through the murkiness of one's abrupt uprooting from the kiddie pool [of which i am still a part {or is it apart?}] into the swirlpool ocean currently being maybe pulled under.... i wonder how you are already, you know, but i am sure you know, and i know you might want to say "i told you so" but you wont because you are not too proud, like someone else we know, you know? C. soundscape: Ambuletz -- The Mars Volta go up I feel like such a dorkMonday, January 12, 2004 04:46 p.m.The entry i did with that Saddam Claus picture a while back is dumb. Because the picture caption read "Ho Ho Halabja!" in reference to the at least 5 000 Kurdish people killed there in 1988 -- you know, "Saddam gassed his own people". So quickly does the truth go down the memory hole when i am constantly bombarded with that propagandist refrain that he gassed his own people. But i went and edited the caption to be more appropriate and accurate. In short, a former CIA analyst during the 80s (Iran-Iraq War) noted a classified USDIA (US Defense Intelligence Agency) report which stated that it was Iranian gas that killed the Kurds, not Iraqi. For the entire piece, go here. I know this makes absolutely NO difference for the thousands of people killed in the massacre and for their families, but it DOES make a huge difference for the thousands who died in the recent invasion of Iraq. This little piece just reminds me to be even more vigilant about what i hear from the mainstream media, and to always struggle to remember the truths that are constantly being buried in the interests of power. I have not written here that much for a while because i really have nothing to say. My goals: to get a job by the end of the month (not looking good), to save up enough money so that i can find a crappy little place in which to live in this city (Cut That City), and then, finally, to keep writing (which i have again seemed to put on hold, but it is at the front of my mind). I have shifted over to the selfish part of myself, and so i want to ignore the GSSJ and basically every other issue, and just be passively critical about them. I never wanted to be that way, but now i can see how hard it must be for many people to just survive and still attempt to change things for the better. I think once i get out of school i will be better suited to actually doing things. I hope. C. soundscape: Son et Lumiere -- The Mars Volta go up i miss youFriday, January 2, 2004 09:18 p.m.tonite i saw a ghost on the bus. i boarded an empty bus at the barrie bus terminal (y'know, more weirdos per capita than ANY place in toronto), the driver was not even there, but for some reason i paid anyway. i sat down at about the middle point of the bus and squinted to look out the scum window, but i could see nothing. after a minute i heard a womans voice -- it sounded like it was coming from the back of the bus -- and then i heard the voice of a little girl. the mother was saying something to the girl about the bus being empty i think. i was so weirded out that i stood up to look to the back to see if anyone was really there, but there was no one. i sat down again, figuring that the voices were coming from outside, since the front door of the bus was open. so i looked again at the scum window, so covered with grime that i could not see ANYthing through it. then all of a sudden i saw the reflection of a little girl in a pink winter coat, skipping along the aisle of the bus. i watched her skip and run for a moment, then the reflection disappeared. i turned my head and looked to where this girl should have been: nothing. the bus was empty. a few moments later the bus driver and some goth-looking girl got on the bus and we drove away in silence. i wasnt scared, just a little confused. i seriously doubt that they were outside and that i saw not the reflection of the girl, but her actual form through the window, since it (the window) was so covered with crap that i could only see the headlights of cars and not their shape. how could i then possibly see a little girl in a pink coat? i noted on the ride home how easy it was for me to see reflections in the window, but very little through the window. i can only say that Keanu Reeves says it best: "Whoa." and mufassa, if you are reading this late at night and you get scared, dont blame me. suck it up. C. soundscape: amber -- 311 go up Saddam looked like Santa ClausMonday, December 15, 2003 08:44 p.m.Just slap the hat on him and there you go. But of course they need to emphasize that he was caught 'like a rat', implying Arabs are filthy rats. So if he was caught like a rat, does that mean that they used some kind of oversized mouse trap or something? oh wait, he wasnt actually caught like a rat, but the comparison is used to turn him into something not human, but animal, feral. to do that is to ignore our humanity: only a calculating mind like that of a human's can become a despot funded by the United States.  Anyway, mufassa, do you want a cat for Xmas? Jeremy and Danielle dont want Taylor anymore. I would take him, but i have no home (*sniff sniff*), so i cant. Would Chalawitch and you like to have a nice cat? Hes nice, not at all like Bucky. His litter box smells nast, though. Aha, i already know the answer, but i thought i would give it a try. He's no dawg. Lately i have found myself writing more poetree, but they are drafts, so they potentially could be better, thats why you cant see them (unless you know where to look hint hint). When i am satisfied with them, then they will be 'officially' unveiled. Once in a while i get this urge to submit them to contests or for publication, then i quickly realize i dont have enough 'good' pomes, so i ususally forget it. this thyme, i decided just to write more pomes. good idear huh? and i notice that my 2003 pomes are strikingly different than my older ones, and i feel more distant from them. my newer stuff seems a lot more mature, so i dont even want to bother submitting my older ones. i am even thinking of retiring them, which would leave me with approximately eleven pomes; not enough. but today i wrote two that relate in a way, having to do with pregnancy. i wrote one, then realized that it was merely one perspective of a woman in pregnancy, that there are more experiences which i left out. so i wrote another, different tone, different style, different voice, different circumstance. but having to do with pregnancy. i think i might do a couple more, make it a series or something. but not tonite. the flame fizzled out, because i miss someone too much and she is all i think about. *melodramatic sigh* C. soundscape: no go up it really is like i'm deadTuesday, December 9, 2003 04:55 p.m.but im not really. i find that i spend less thyme in front of the screen, and that is a good thing. somethymes things that happen and at first seem to be bad, can be a positive development in the end. if only my computer would werk but just NOT be connected to the internet, then i could have music all the thyme like before, and i would still be productive. but its not really like i have been all that productive. my exams are over, but i only studied for one of them. and i am mostly here, here being somewhere other than where i usually am, so, not here, but there actually. you get it of course. i feel homeless again, almost the same way i felt over the summer, only because its like i dont allow myself to settle into my living space so readily. i know that i will be moving out of it at the end of April, moving out of there and into no one knows where. see how i said 'no one' rather than 'god'? yeah, take that god.... i need to ask myself why i dont submit a couple of my poems to a few places and competitions. it cant hurt, except it could be because i am notoriously terrible at just accepting a rejection, not that i have ever really received one. but i feel like it would hurt a lot, and i read about writers who have received hundreds of rejections before being accepted, and here i am, fretting over the mere possibility of someday getting one. for me that would be a step forward, recieving something authentic. i have submitted a few poems to online places like poetry dot com and received a notice that one of my poems was going to be published in an anthology -- but that i would have to fork over at least sixty dollars amerikkkan to ever see it. and later they sent me a form letter saying that my poem was so great that they were considering it for the $ 20 000 grand prize -- again with a condition: that i pay them 500 bucks US to register at their annual symposium and then travel to Washington DC where it is held. only then would i be officially considered. at least i wasnt so naive to think that they only sent me and a few select others the letter; that is how they make their money -- they "consider" thousands upon thousnads of poems for the grand prize, and then steal 500 dollars of your money, and then pick one winner. imagine 500 dollars multiplied by thousands: a lot of money. and of course they make profit off the anthology while you are supposed to pay for the minute ego boost of seeing one of your poems in print. what a scam. perhaps one day i might come across the book in a library somewhere, but i really doubt it since i forget what it is called and they publish a few of the hulking books each year. really though, how good could my poem have been if it was among thousands published in their fucking gargantuan book? yeah. so anyway, i am going to start by trying to write at least once a week. this place is for my journal-type shit, as i am rarely inspired to anything lofty whilst sitting at a keyboard; mostly im just trying to hit the right keys. so yeah, i will write at least once a week on paper, and i dont see why i cant write every day, since what i am talking about here are a few words that come to mind that seem to stand out and sound nice. it shouldnt be too much of a burden; but i didnt write anything last nite, i just had a shower and went straight to bed. later on i got up and read about birth culture for about three hours, and STILL i had nothing to write. then i started reading a book of poems (thankfully not my own -- yawn) and even then i had nothing come to me. i suppose that i will have days like those quite often, but then it just means that perhaps tomorrow is the day. but doesnt it seem like tomorrow is always the day? C. soundscape: nada go up i am deadFriday, November 28, 2003 10:42 a.m.i actually woke up to go to my 8.30am class so i could write an eggs ham that didnt exist, i think now i will be kicked out of rez because my grades are so shitty. or maybe not. i really think that i will just barely squeeze by this term and i will have to werk really hard next term. or maybe not, since i am never coming back to this institutionalized mind control. i really should take courses at AnarchistU this winter. Yeah. okay, bye. C. Ps my computer went into a permanent coma a few days ago so there wont be as many entries until it wakes up or gets replaced. soundscape: none go up Bugs Bunny Nips the NipsTuesday, November 25, 2003 12:35 a.m.I finally found it! The famous bugs cartoon, and all the other racist, fascist US war toons. go here, but i warn you about the rest of the site: it seems to be really pro-Amerikkkan, like they dont even comment on how terribly racist these cartoons really are. Enjoy. soundscape: none go up hey....Monday, November 24, 2003 07:13 p.m.there is not one square inch of open space on my floor right now. just thought you'd like to know. C. soundscape: narcoleptic -- placebo go up Sapho to PhilaenisMonday, November 24, 2003 02:59 a.m.what a transformation. i feel like a new person, or rather myself, refreshed and reborn. my confidence rushed back to me today somehow, as if back from a long journey. i no longer feel overwhelmed and powerless. i dont know what happened to me. with a week to go until Ramadan ends, i stopped fasting today. it was making me sick. i think i am anemic now, but that can be remedied. for some reason i stopped taking my iron pills for over a month. stupid. so in turn for the past couple of weeks i have been feeling weak and tired all the thyme, i would sleep for nearly 12 hours each day and still i would feel very tired. iron deficiency, yes. but no more. and i dont want to feel that way anymore, i am tired of feeling like shit, so i am going to return to my habits of taking those pills every day and i will even resume taking the greens. why not? it cant hurt. and with this resolve i find that i can werk as efficiently and as effectively as i want. lately i have been finding it really hard to think straight, to focus on anything really. it was scary; and i felt nothing of my life, i just floated along miserably waiting for each misfortune to drop itself into my lap, feeling too apathetic to do anything about it. no more. two new pomes here, although i am not yet sure if i will keep them. if i decide to destroy them, perhaps before that day comes some random visitor might see them, take from them what they see fit, and then create something new and more beautiful. "dont forget to be the way you are" yeah those are nice visions of the future, but who really wants to live in a BIG house and be rich and famous? i sure as hell dont. i mean thats terribly selfish and ignorant, dont you think? when you KNOW without a doubt that not everybody can live that way without destroying everything. thats what i base my desires for the future on; so it is obviously fuzzy, i can only define what i want by what i DONT want. but as thyme progresses and if i find those who share my sense of repsonsibility to the planet and bounce my ideas and desires off of them, i might see in practice what i only previously dreamed of. i should be so lucky; we all should. wasnt that an amazing super long jam before "pinned together, falling apart"? i loved it, way better than the album version if you ask me, which you didnt. i am done for the evening, werking on the seminar that is. the rest can be left until the morrow. really though, it was you i think: your empathy breathed new life into me, your understanding and compassion dragged me out of my grave, out from under that despair i wore like a black cloud. thank you. i love you. you are the only one who could have possibly done that to me, i hope you know that. C. soundscape: the waitress (live) -- tori amos; fake french -- le tigre go up between cotton balls and xylophonesSaturday, November 22, 2003 03:09 p.m.fuck i am so tired right now. the screwed up sleeping that i have been doing for the past two weeks is really catching up to me now. i look like i have been hit by a truck. maybe its also because of the fasting, but thats okay since its over in a week. i leave to meet mufassa soon, and then we go to see the dears, in a REAL venue this thyme! as tired as i am, i am still exciticated. i just hope that i dont get carded at the door and then turned away because i dont have 'valid' ID. i dont have a drivers' license (obviously), nor a passport nor an age of majority card, not even one of those Health cards with your picture on it. All i have is my birth certificate and my York ID, which has a picture of me from last year on it -- I have dreds. I was just looking at it and i dont look like the same person at all. If i get turned away i will be HIGHLY upset, there you go L. And i got an email today from eddy who is also going. maybe we'll see him there, he'll be the sexy guy with sexy-ass dreds. I feel like i am on autopilot right now, auto-zombie-pilot to be more precise. and i think about whether or not the fasting has done me one bit of good since i began, did it enlighten me, calm me, bring me to new levels of potential..... ...no. It just made me stressed out and depressed and weak and tired all the thyme. or maybe it wasnt the fasting at all, but something else; perhaps i am using the fast as an excuse to stop trying. but why would i want to do that? why do i feel like giving up? what was so bad that has happened to me, EVER? fuck, i dont know. and of course only now do i resume asking these questions of myself: the moon is in Scorpio. that doesnt mean anything. yes it does. shut up. C. soundscape: teenage aeroport goodbye -- the dears go up welcome to the InternetSaturday, November 22, 2003 02:03 a.m.i now am aware that i need to be careful about what i say on here, because of stupid ass google and other fucking search engines. but i told them to leave me alone now, so it should werk from now on. i just checked and aenimal doesnt seem to be listed anymore. so there. its not like i want just anyone reading this. i dont mind the random person from pitas who happens to be around just after i update this, but people at my campus finding this by chance when they search online using some keywords, no thanks. thats a little too big brotherish, if you ask me. are you from the Union, trying to dig up info about me or gssj? or were you merely an innocent and curious person wondering from whence those posters came? perhaps i should commend you, since you were not too APATHETIC to try looking for answers. however, all you did was search on google; any asshat can do that. the intention was to get you thinking about yourself and why you are the way you are; why most people would rather do nothing than try to make a positive difference. i have some of those posters left, but i wont put any more up because of you, thanks. but not to worry, i have other tricks up my sleeve..... ; ) C. soundscape: modern romance -- yeah yeah yeahs; autotomy -- the dears go up |
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Playlist arrrrrrrghchivebefore the moveramadan Uncle Chris  i am vegetarian. i dont eat spam. a_enimal @ msn.com (no spaces)  |
