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This Is My True Freedom

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cowboy67

:: 2005 21 March :: 12.07am

crash.

"it's the sense of touch. i think we miss that touch so much that we crash into each other just so we can feel something."

i saw this preview a couple weeks ago at the theater when i saw "hotel rwanda" and i felt like i was watching something i'd made myself (the very beginning at least, you'll see why). the music is samuel barber's adagio for strings. talk about beautiful.

5 day[s] remain | the end is here


rina

:: 2005 20 March :: 12.11am
:: Mood: apathetic
:: Music: action adventure - andrew bird

failure by design
you know this war on humanity thats going on?
i finally figured out what the fuck it is.

evolution.

its survival of the fittest.
good luck, rest of the planet.

2 day[s] remain | the end is here


cowboy67

:: 2005 19 March :: 12.49am

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cowboy67

:: 2005 17 March :: 2.54pm

i find it hard
to drive your stupid car
i find it hard
cause i never get that far
and you put my brain in overload
and i can't change gears
i cannot see the road

you got concrete eyes
and i cannot see your face
and i failed in life
cause you crushed me with your hands

and you put my brain in overload
i can't change gears
i cannot see the road

the end is here


spazzbaby

:: 2005 16 March :: 3.35pm
:: Mood: bouncy
:: Music: Red Hot Chili Peppers

Yayayayay

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

2 day[s] remain | the end is here


alastar

:: 2005 15 March :: 4.19pm
:: Mood: enthralled
:: Music: The Mars Volta

Shape of the Storm
Crossing your dark, woven path
Letting his pride fall behind
He scrapes against the pieces of glass
That rain down from the sky

And upon this gray dusk
Out his veins formed of lust
All his blood pours from
The cleanest of cuts

Hearing voices, though shattered,
Cry with weak tongues from the shore
These splinters of sound form no pattern
As they flow through the storm

And upon this gray dusk
Out his veins formed of lust
All his blood pours from
The cleanest of cuts

the end is here


cowboy67

:: 2005 14 March :: 4.42pm

self-portrait: Read more..

7 day[s] remain | the end is here


cowboy67

:: 2005 13 March :: 9.03pm

inter nos


Read more..


alastar

:: 2005 13 March :: 12.18am
:: Mood: pensive
:: Music: Breaking Benjamin - Sugarcoat

I'm the one you want to bury, and I can't speak so I'm just staring.


I'm on the edge of my seat
And all the words are on the tip of my tongue now
It's getting harder to breathe
And I'm about to stand up and scream my lungs out

the end is here


cowboy67

:: 2005 11 March :: 3.28pm

in honor of today
my shadow's shedding skin
and i've been picking scabs again
i'm down
digging through my old muscles
looking for a clue
i've been crawling on my belly
clearing out what could've been
i've been wallowing in my own confused
and insecure delusions
for a piece to cross me over
or a word to guide me in
i wanna feel the changes coming down
i wanna know what i've been hiding
in my shadow
change is coming through my shadow
my shadow's shedding skin
i've been picking my scabs again
i've been crawling on my belly
clearing out what could've been
i've been wallowing in my own chaotic
and insecure delusions
i wanna feel the change consume me
feel the outside turning in
i wanna feel the metamorphosis
and cleansing i've endured
within my shadow
change is coming
now is my time
listen to my muscle memory
contemplate what i've been clinging to
forty-six and two ahead of me
i choose to live and to grow
take and give and to move
learn and love and to cry
kill and die and to be paranoid and to lie
hate and fear and to do what it takes to move through
i choose to live and to lie
kill and give and to die
learn and love
and to do what it takes to step through
see my shadow changing
stretching up and over me
soften this old armor
hoping i can clear the way
by stepping through my shadow
coming out the other side
step into the shadow
forty-six and two are just ahead of me


cowboy67

:: 2005 10 March :: 8.53pm

every day i think about all of the things in this world. the many many things. the materials. buildings, pencils, cars, clothing, paper clips, paper, bottles, phones, tvs, cds, furniture, electronics, jewelry, things. i walk around at school and there are all of these things everywhere. just things. i don't see humans much. the things walking around just remind me of robots. i walk so slowly and stare at everything as i pass it. it frightens me to look at these large concrete/metal/wood structures around me. i realize that all of these things are not out of the ordinary to any normal passerby; the human race has a hard time looking beyond anything other than that which slaps them across the face. these are "normal" realities of our lives, apparently.

there's so much stuff. so many people. i become anxious and overwhelmed just walking down 1 street in detroit that's not even a mile long. all of these things being created, used, wasted, destroyed, all at the exact same time. so i begin to multiply the cars, the exhaust, the sky, the clouds, the trees, the granules of concrete, the people, the candy wrappers, the 100 multiple choice question tests, the shoes, the glasses, the fake nails, the shampoo, the hamburgers, and the condoms by billions, and i try to get a picture in my mind of what this world looks like. the lakes drowning in oil spills, the rain forests drying up and their inhabitants starving and disappearing, the ozone layer breaking down to oxygen because of chlorine in the air, the trees being planted, the aluminum cans being re-used, the people falling in love, the bodies being blown up, the babies being born and aborted, candles being blown out and lights turning on, cell division and cell suicide. there's so much going on every second of every day. and this is one tiny planet in one tiny galaxy. tiny.

and then i go to class. chemistry 1000, in an auditorium of about 200-300 people. i sit alone every day, which is how i like it. i don't feel like i fit in with humans. never have, probably never will. other species make more sense to me - they do not make life harder than it is, and they do not rape. so i sit in silence and overhear the droning conversations surrounding me on all sides. they complain about school. they complain about weather. they complain about technology. they complain about the professor's hair or clothing, the homework, the tests. complain, complain, complain. i have never heard, "i feel amazing because i am alive." i have never heard, "i can walk. i can see. i am so fortunate."

we turn on faucets and clean water flows out. we turn on thermostats and heat radiates. we turn keys and engines start, and cars take us places. microwaves make our meals. farmers grow our food. we have public education that is free. we have access to books, films, and other sources of information at the drop of a dime. we can say what we want; believe what we want; worship dieties as we please. but we are not the world. this is not all there is. there is life beyond our grasp of attention or desire of knowledge. girls and women are being raped, beaten, murdered. men are being taught that this is okay. children are being brought up to hate. people are dying. dying. suffering. spitting up blood, coughing up bits of organs, losing limbs, choking on their own vomit and saliva. people are dying. not dying peacefully in their sleep. they are being tortured to death. terrorists killed 200 children in russia. people are dying every single day in iraq. there is an ethnic cleansing genocide in sudan. women in bangledesh are scarred with acid. 1 in 3 women in the united states is abused by a partner. how can you just keep going? how can you care about cars and clothing and mansions? parties and beer and weed? how? how are you able to carry on?

i just want to know if there is a how-to-ignore-everyone-and-everything class that i missed out on.

the end is here


cowboy67

:: 2005 8 March :: 3.34pm

in response
dear bitchy american human beings,

stop complaining about other species and threatening to kill them just because your lazy, imperialist, ethnocentric ass doesn't know what it has or where it belongs.

thank you.

laurence anthony vanden boom


cowboy67

:: 2005 5 March :: 2.48pm

complaining "women only like me for my mind."


cowboy67

:: 2005 3 March :: 11.22pm


cowboy67

:: 2005 2 March :: 12.47am

"hating people is like burning down your house to kill a rat." - henry fosdick


cowboy67

:: 2005 28 February :: 11.19pm


cowboy67

:: 2005 24 February :: 7.35pm

do not attempt to tell a dying man how to live.


cowboy67

:: 2005 19 February :: 12.11pm

THE SMITHS - WHAT SHE SAID
what she said:
"how come someone hasn't noticed
that i'm dead?
and decided to bury me -
God knows i'm ready."

what she said was sad
but then, all the rejection she's had
to pretend to be happy
could only be idiocy

what she said was not for the job or
lover that she never had

what she read
all heady books
she'd sit and prophesize
(it took a tattooed boy from
birkenhead to really, really open her eyes)

what she said:
"i smoke `cos i'm hoping for an early death
AND I NEED TO CLING TO SOMETHING!"

2 day[s] remain | the end is here


rina

:: 2005 19 February :: 12.23am
:: Music: untouchable face - ani difranco

who am i, somebody tell me that much
writers block is so ridiculous.
i know exactly what should happen next in finding new york, but.. BLAH.

i cant wait to finish off my b&w film from the nikon. i want to develop them like mad.

i should just bring it to school and take random pictures of people.

i've been having many odd dreams as of late. on consisted of my nine year old brother crashing a car, while i was in it as well as my sister, and when the police came he started laughing. and saying it was just like need for speed. or burnout III takedown.

i was panicking, and they were excited.

odd, yes? yes.

the end is here


cowboy67

:: 2005 14 February :: 12.04am

spread this on your crackers, baby
Read more..

6 day[s] remain | the end is here

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