thestarsmaketwentyone
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2004 8 January :: 2.41am
:: Music: silences
And O Narcissus, when can you be either?
I know what Moonface is. I should have known, of course, because the moon is the talisman of the insane, and the moon grins, and the sun weeps. The fucking bells that ring silences. All the round shapes, the balance of dark and light...he's goddamn anti-depressants. He protects you from everything. Anything. Forever. Maybe that's why he's so scary (because I never told you, but he scares me too). I can't dismiss him. I don't know what he's saving me from, and I'm too much of a coward to find out.
Ohoashinbo is me now. Creativity, or a sham of creativity, without progess, without spontenaity or free growth.
Ellis is the coming-to-realise-this. I wonder how longit took of self-manipulating chemical abuse to free him up? You gave me a revelation, you stupid, tired old old man. And you know what it was, but sorry and lurking there stupid, tired old old on the sidelines doesn't fix a single thing.
What do I need? Maybe I need Boyd, or whatever his real name will turn out to be: he hasn't told me yet.
I cheated Moonface today. No anti-depressants for a little while, because one set is working it's way out before I go back onto the one that works. This is why I have a revelation. A little revelation, a pretty shit revelation when it comes down to it, but I TAKE what I can GETseebelow. Was it my environment that crushed me, that made me build a Moonface from the trash, the worthless and banal used up refuse-thoughts, animated by some sick-monkey chemical wizardry? Possiblepossible.
I'm sorry to Jenna, because you introduced this thing to me, and now I'm going to steal another thing away from you. I am a magpie like that, I steal and realise. I steal earrings, from your tragus even, and I realise it was being part of you that made them beautiful. I'm sorry to you also, Kim, because I don't want to do the same to you but I think I will. I'm not -very- sorry, youknow. Because there is still a thrill in theft, the thrill of youallhaditcoming, the thrill of yourfaultforleavingitwhereanyonecouldgettoit. When you come back, Kim, I hope I will have the chimeridae stuff for you. The realname thing. I can't deal with pretend people anymore. I need something to put my whole trust in, now I've remembered that I don't trust myself. Names are powerful. I want to own a little bit of you all, to feather my ugly little nest with.
Recently obbsessorised:
http://www.bmezine.com/
Dear Ohoashinbo: Are you ready to change yourself for yourself?
http://blueboard.rimlife.com/mantis/
I can't even begin to explain how magnificent mantis shrimp are. Luckily, the internet can. Powerful.
Now I will add people ([twopeople?] probable) to my list o' people, another thing I would fain ask some little forgiveness for.
myxomatosis
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cutlip
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2003 31 December :: 8.56pm
If I had the wit to say what I wanted, clarification would be two steps away. And it's just a riddle to the rest of us, when mad cerulean words spill onto the screen on a dark-blue-black background. It's one. Big. Riddle.
PauseSTEP. PauseSTEP. I found you.
PauseSTEP. PauseSTEP. You didn't find me.
PauseSTEP. PAUSE.
Step: forward.
sometimesilikejustbleedingnakedandholdingmyhandsundermychin.
Amata.
Amata.
Amata.
What's amata?
Ayeduhknow. Whassamatawitchoo?
Happy New Yuhyuhyear.
2 in |
myxomatosis
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cutlip
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2003 26 December :: 8.26pm
Keep up with this. Keepupwithus.
I knew it! I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT! I ALWAYS KNEW IT!
Collapsing noise. Laughter. Maybe I'm just particularlyre:active today. Butthere'smore.
What're you feeling, chinaboy? What are you feeling, chinaboy? WHAT are you FEELING, CHINABOY!?
It's not knowing how to speak your own language any more. It's listening to the fights and knowing you mean nothing in them, but you want to interfere. When you try to understand and you just
f: all
: ucking
: lat
on your
: ace
:.
Bob your head and say you knew it, now.
I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT!
myxomatosis
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cutlip
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2003 26 December :: 8.14pm
:: Mood: shocked
:: Music: Machinehead.x.Bush
breathinginandbreathingout
God damn it-- is it really certain?
That's an iambic pentameter, ladies and gentlemen.
I don't remember where I've been lately.
But.if.I.find.out. I.will.let.you.know.
2 in |
myxomatosis
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cutlip
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2003 19 December :: 4.42pm
:: Music: Meatloaf.
It's getting closer to Christmas. And I'm wonderingwonderingWonderRing. What will this break mean. If anything at all?
Taking off. Screaming down hallways with that bloodpressurerush pounding in the ears. Nostrils drying out. Mouth devoid of moisture. On the balls of one's feet, freezingbleedhinghands clamped into fists pumping at the sides. Muscles.
I like human anatomy. Hence, being an EMT. There was an accident that I didn't want to deal with yesterday. A man on the other side of a thirty foot wall of water. Freezingcoldwater. He was stuck in his car. Nobody saw him. But.Me.
Running over and lifting the side of the car. He's in there. His face is cut up, revealing those bubble-gum pink pieces of flesh from between spurts of red blood. It was so red. It was everywhere.
The water leaked into the car. About a foot of it. Icy-cold, touching a victim in such shock that he turned bloodshot, wide eyes on me, lips pale and trembling.
I'd never make a good.. offstandish person. I care too much about people in general to let things like this go by without doing anything. It strikes such fear into me.. installs such a feeling of deep pity that I have to block it out to focus. It's such a hard thing to do-- you want to help EVERYONE.
I didn't have band-aids [day off yousee] or any gauze. So I took off my shirt and wrapped it around his neck and upper torso, creating a sling for him to hold one of his mangled arms in. I had to carry his out of the car in a style reffered to as "the infant carry"; tucking the head close to your body and running with the victim.
I ran with him past the people staring and got back into the car. Drove as fast as I could with this man laying in the seat next to me, laying flat on the passenger seat [tipped it down for him]. And tears were sliding out of his eyes. And he grabbed my thigh and squeezed gently. And whispered, "It hurts".
I said I understood. And I was sorry. And I was doing my best to get him to a hospital. I talked with him on the way there, speeding through traffic. I told him my name. I talked to him. Just talked. Told him about myself and what was happening -- what was going to happen. He nodded gently, as much as he could, and blood kept coming out of him-- 'm so used to having medical equipment that I wanted to do something. Anything.
Have you ever seen a face so full of fear and pain that you want to help.. and cannot?
I wasn't allowed to see him while the hospital took care of him. They brought me back my shirt in a biohazard bag, handed it to me briskly, stated, "He died." And walked away.
I felt guilty. And there was the little slithering laugh in the back of my head. Sssthsthsthsthsth. I couldn't sleep and have been up ever since.
Wastedyouth. Oooo~oo.
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myxomatosis
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