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i've had a nice run...   
09:05pm 02/10/2003
  ...but it's time to say farewell. ljers have been a great group with whom to converse in general. thanks for all the insight and all the mental massaging.



(11 received telepathigrams | send a telepathigram?)

rolling eyes   
11:12pm 29/08/2003
mood: spring rolls
why is everyone annoying and whiney? you know who you are. get over yourselves.

*flips the bird*

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06:36pm 25/08/2003
mood: country fried steak

Livejournal Mood Ring

is emotionally distant.

I bet no one's surprised that you never post your current mood. In fact, I bet most of your friends are so sick of you locking them out of your life that they hate you behind your back. Shame.

brought to you by interim32. wanna know your livejournal's mood ring
color? enter your username and hit the button.


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11:53pm 24/08/2003
mood: nostalgic
listening to music...trying to figure out what songs will supply the soundtrack to my first movie.

(send a telepathigram?)

11:44pm 24/08/2003
mood: poo-poo

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"YOU ROCK!"   
09:53pm 20/08/2003
mood: lime jell-o
my favorite part of the"bjork: vesptertine live at the royal opera house" dvd? Bjork looks over at Zeena Parkins, the harpist, after "Generous Palmstroke" and mouths, "YOU ROCK!" Until that moment, I had never thought about it, but--yes, Bjork...you're right. Harpists CAN rock.

Speaking of bjork...tonight is the big concert. Had i not been a poor-ass cocksmith, i wouldn't have had to sell my ticket, and i would've been there.

hope all my friends have fun there!

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12:06pm 15/08/2003
mood: rectangular.
Nightmare Before Christmas!

What movie Do you Belong in?(many different outcomes!)
brought to you by Quizilla

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from "the best of robotic love/eulogy for a masochist"   
09:05pm 06/08/2003
  Entertaining more fantasies of Bea Arthur today.

In my latest dreams, she comes to be me in the middle of the night dressed in nothing more than a clear plastic raincoat with clothes pins clamped to the tips of her nipples. She breaks into the house, taking me by force on an ermine rug by the fireplace. She has an entourage of mutant gypsies who bind me to the surrounding furniture with barbed wire.

Bea proceeds to strattle my face until the greater part of my head disappears. Has your face ever been devoured by a sinister vagina, friends? If so, how about Bea Arthurs? I could hardly breath, yet all the while, she sits there riding me like I was one of those little mechanical pony machines kids put quarters in at the local K-Mart.

After her riding lessons, she instructs her gang of mutant gypsies to flip me over so she can get a good look at my little bum. She begins spanking me unmercifully with her hand, and, with her Lee's Press-On Nails raking into my flesh, I suddenly find myself understanding what Joan Crawford's daughter must have felt like. Yes. Bea just digs in with those talons--those evil claws. She even spits on me, calling me a dirty little sex pig. "You like that, don't you?" she poses.

Then...the kicker.

Lythogremes, one of the gypsies who's obviously under Bea's hypnotic control, returns zombie-eyed from the kitchen, having obtained a whole fish from the freezer. Without warning, Bea lubricates me with lard and sodomizes me with the frozen fish. Ever had a bass in your ass? It's not fun! Though mine and Bea's only audience is the gang of mutant gypsies who don't even know the wiser, I find myself utterly destroyed, diminished, and humiliated. The humiliation, however, I find arousing. When Bea is finished with the trout, she filets it and cooks it.

We eat it by the fireplace where she holds me and tells me she loves me and everything will be okay.

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our waitress, indigo   
02:34am 06/08/2003
mood: hepburn
our waitress was a zombie named indigo, though she had absolutley no color about her--not even here, in the eternal damnation cafe where color is as common as anti-matter. i asked her for a refill on the caffeinated sludge, and she obliged, one eye granting me a silent confirmation on her commitment to good service while her other eye rolled toward the back of her head.

we thought very little of indigo. we merely hoped none of her would fall into our meatloaf, which--i'm sure--from time to time did.

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battle monster   
10:46pm 05/08/2003
mood: three day old maxi pad

is a Giant Dragon that Stomps Around a Lot, is Covered with a Thick Slime, Fears Nothing, and has an Extra Head.

Strength: 9 Agility: 8 Intelligence: 9

To see if your Giant Battle Monster can
defeat Brock, enter your name and choose an attack:

fights Brock using

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i just had my period--see:   
05:29pm 31/07/2003
mood: edible

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02:37pm 27/07/2003
mood: oogley
when i saw you dancing, i realized i had always known you--even before i was born, you there in my mind that had not yet been formed. you were there even before the invention of love, waiting to be seen.

(send a telepathigram?)

07:57am 27/07/2003
mood: rollin'
my heart filled with what felt like the senseless acts of violins, and then i found myself recalling the time your lips were laced with chips of peppermint.

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in the anger   
05:05pm 25/07/2003
mood: in a fog
on the other side, wherein which there is a reflection of someone who's not me but is but isn't but is, there is a glass swan, too, bathed and speckled in blue. and then comes the tunneling. i fall into it, until my flesh become the glass itself and the swan joins in. my eyes form to the eyes on the other side where an alchemist is already making something worthwhile out of me.

my heart, for example, is full of peridot. but it's continuously mined and crumbled over.

i love all of you. wherever you are.

don't sink in the anger.

and remember, time travel has already happened, just not yet.

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the button   
07:26pm 23/07/2003
mood: clabbered milk
i look listlessly across the canyon, pomegrenate in hand and wind in palm, teetering on the edge.

from up here, i am a lunar moth flittering foolishly for the sun. a balloon not blown, left undone.

i find myself practically eviscerated--emotionally, that is--and full of hatred. i can't believe how much i hate people, and i find myself wondering...how did "i" happen?

i have my hand on the button, and thinking of people, my fingers are quick to press. humans simply aren't worth saving, are they?

i don't know what has sparked all this anger and hopelessness. actually, i do, but i'd rather run and hide than stay and fight. i'm not a fighter, plain and simple. i am...plain and simple.

burlap, envious of silk.
water, envious of milk.

humans are uneventful and a waste. what wonders could have been are left undone. the only thing that makes me think otherwise is a good song.

my face is now covered with pomegrenate, but my palm is empty of the wind.

i fall back into the void, hopeless yet refusing to press the button. why can't i press it? and take care of this all.

maybe tomorrow, i will be impressed.

(send a telepathigram?)

04:40pm 14/07/2003
mood: curdled milk
been strangely blue lately. so down, i forfeited a vial o'kitty and gave her to someone else. anyone who knows me, knows that has to be one of the signs of the coming apocalypse.


(9 received telepathigrams | send a telepathigram?)

this is my bed-wetting liberal post, though i'm more of an ear-biting socialist   
01:54am 12/07/2003
mood: coquettish lesbian with banana
--clean between the machine.

--eyes are long-legged clumsies.

--vino caliente. who knew?

--my feet in squishy, caramel-sticky clouds.


this is when i start the liberal spill...and start huggin' trees...and stop shaving my legs--though i've never started.


god bless mommy. god bless daddy. but must of all, god bless our bombs. may they be precise. may they kill all who refuse to submit to us. may they kill all who dare to rebel. may they kill all who are different--who are not as good as we simply because we know what it means to "super-size" or to "take five." god bless our bombs so that they may do away with those who do not believe in our god. may our bombs kill the ragheads--and even the jews and blacks and gays while they're at it. may they secure our oil and confirm our oil-lust, not to mention our gun-lust and our superiority complex. may they make us look good, if only to ourselves. and god bless wal-mart. amen.

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i now have a computer. fun!   
01:15pm 06/07/2003
mood: 21st Century
Robotic Love, under the guise of mild-mannered Brock, in the past had to steal away to the computer in his office to post livejournal entries. Now, he has a new super-computer in his very own room. He has the world at this fingertips at any given time. One step closer to world domination.

Oh yeah. Alright! The sweet, sweet smell of success.

New AIM, friends: XperimntGoneAwry


(7 received telepathigrams | send a telepathigram?)

black ribbons   
05:14pm 04/06/2003
mood: helpless
Dear Sinister Minister Monkey Nipples:

In the distance, Suphronia is playing the piano much like the rain plays the exposed ribs of a decaying beast--with random, melancholy pecks. At first, I had assumed the cat had wandered onto the keys. But when I looked up, I saw her there, hugging a bottle of bourbon and a memory.

Both sides of her face are streaked with a mascara river, pseudo-potamic testaments of her having cried. In my mind, I run to her. In my mind, I tell her not to cry. I send her many a telepathigram, but they all return to me, marked "undeliverable."

***end transmission***

(send a telepathigram?)

04:02pm 30/05/2003
mood: optimistic
Oh. So this is what it's like to glow?

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