:: 2004 4 February :: 6.32 pm

I speak in code even in private entries. That's stupid. So I made them public. +uhhh. I'm back? Sort of? Something.

+:////effigy. I need to speak of her. Afraid to before. Fuck it. I'm too disconnected now for it to matter.

effigy is. Push. Physically. Mentally. She's trying to be everything Push is. Neon purple masked cat screaming drooling slashing at doors {whatever} etc. Whenever I read St. Push's writing I can see it coming out of Sab's teeth. {Sab is effigy. effigy is Sab's mask. hard to explain, or not.} The cadence, the language, it's all her. I don't know if I stole it or if it was just convergant evolution, at this point it fails to matter. It is her now. Who she what she is.

But at the same time it's all false. Her mask, it's exactly like Push's, but reversed, and clawed up with frustration. effigy wants that magnetism. Wants that power. Wants neverland to be everything Deadog should have been and wasn't, wants herself to be a household name. Rich and famous. All that jazz. You probably know this, it's so obvious. And it's so obvious that she's a poser by everything she does, but oh well. I'm through apologizing for it. Through hiding. Sick of it all. She is what she is. My own symbology. Or lack thereof.

Longstoryshort. effigy steals Pushitude and I don't care {to the tune of jimmy crack corn}. etc. etc. I totally have to go now, this entry was useless, I lack a scanner, weep weep whatever. If anyone wants to e-mail me their {physical} adress I'll draw some crap {probably effigy, I can't stop drawing her, or request something} and send it to you. No color, I only have a black pen, but eh. Art is art. {epilepticsquid@comcast.net} my address is: 140 Phantom St., Box # 15483
Keesler AFB, MS 39534 if you desire to write me things. I liek teh letters, j3s. bye now.

myxomatosis

:: 2003 13 December :: 10.42 am

I feel more free and at peace than I have in a very long time. I had no idea something so simple [something so destructive] could be so [falling is floating in heaven for hours]. It's like suicide, without all that annoying death. It's what I've dreamed of for years and never had the tools to put into effect. It is abandoning everything, and it is good.

I can see him, dancing, shrouded in golden light. Neither of us are saying anything, there's nothing to be said. I'd missed him so much. Something very important in me was lost when he died. Now he's more beautiful than I have words for.

You fail to realize exactly how much desperation you're carrying around until you're rid of it. This is beyond lifting a weight from my shoulders. This is growing into a new skin. Look ma, I'm a lobster.

I really can't explain it. I grew into myself. I have tendrils, long ones, that curl in fascinating ways. I have nothing left to live for [towards, in pursuit of] and that frees me to just be. When one lacks direction, one goes nowhere, but when one has nowhere to go, any place can be reached. And I'm going.

I'll miss you guys.

1 in | myxomatosis

:: 2003 11 December :: 8.26 pm

You've got to embrace your inner monster. Even as it destroys everything you've ever loved. --{ I can see her with tendrils, mechanical tendrils. Huge like Silence. It's not even a grin anymore. &I still can't see her eyes, it's like the entire upper half of her head is gone. Just her teeth and lips. Red lights play along her stripes, pulsating with a heartbeat. And her?¿is not even the right pronoun anymore, but it works just as well. We all are the same. --}

[Cerberus. The one-eyed cow.]

Edit: Neverfuckingmind. The [lackswordslackswords, let's call it fear, let's call it unoriginality, let's call it stealing, just don't call it late to dinner] will never cease to have a hold on me, now that I see what it has done, and what it can do. Maybe it's too early to make decisions like this, but I still think [the blindness] is the only way to go. If I even have to go that far at all. Still seems as if it would be best to just let it all rot, but so much of me is tied up in this, and I feel unpleasant at the thought of leaving it all behind. Because that which feeds causes the most pain. Like a tasty dessert that turns to acid as it is swallowed. Like holy water. It is beautiful. But it doesn't belong in me. I have no right to it. I should stop watching it like I have a chance. Stop this tomfoolery. Just stop.stop.stop. Make it all go away.

Only those who have the gift, who are truly creators and worldmakers, who breathe brilliance and know the [Truth] deserve this. I need to stop chipping away at their success. It is not mine it will never be mine I have no right to it, I do not breathe ambrosia. I do not breathe at all.

So it is. For the time being. Until it's all forgotten again, buried in the blood of a bat-worm.

Fool. Fool.

--{:///It is so fucking cold in here??¿¿???¿why --}

myxomatosis

:: 2003 10 December :: 8.00 pm

This {} is retarded. But that doesn't stop it from being, I guess. I have to find {a niche?} good things about my art . . . things nobody else has . . . everything I think I "come up with" I find ten minutes later in someone else's picture . . . of no originality is me and it's driving me nutz. Arg?

myxomatosis

:: 2003 10 December :: 6.01 pm

It's better than me in every way. And I keep looking through {}, trying to convince myself that I can rise to the challenge, that I can be as good as this if not better, but . . . I can't. I know I couldn't ever. Already it's got several years and the love of someone I'd kill just to be noticed by. It is more creative, more skilled, more emotive, more attractive, more more more more more.

I still want to shed my identity. Start again. But I know it wouldn't solve anything. I'd still be the same useless, unattractive {physically&mentally} dry-flavored wasteland I always am. People don't change. Self betterment is nothing more than shuffling some surface features around, the basic structure will always remain the same.

Put the {} away, fool. Let yourself be blinded again. Tear away all of this childishness and let life fall into itself. We shall not be. That. Anymore.

Actually. It works if you just distract yourself.

myxomatosis