lucifer

breathe in


lucifer rocks... thought i would share this....

ruby slippers

ventilate


she remembers wearing red shoes. her ruby slippers as she has come to think of them these days. after all they are what sent her home. they are what took her away from the fantastic and cast her back in the world of black and white, back in the world that she only missed once she was away. as she straps them on tonight, as she straightens her stockings, as she makes sure that the last touches on her face are holding up perfect, as she loads her shotguns, her mind goes to his face. she wonders where he is now, what part of the horizon that he still needs to touch in his endless journey to find a place in this world. she wonders if he thinks of her while he wanders between twilights, in the darklights, in the whitelights. with a smack of her lips and a tug of her skirt she slings the guns over her shoulders and begins the 515 steps back into a world of color and all the greys that go between.

there is a corner in a city, the towers that sit there overlook unnatural greenery that seems to stretch like a verdant sea whose shores are lined with spires and glittering windows. this is a corner of envy and greed, of hope and faith. there is a vacant storefront, a blank marquee lined by green stars the only remnant of its last incarnation. considered an eyesore to some it stands as a grim reminder of the unchangable truth of the one city. decay. most tend to forget its presence, tend to overlook the eyesore in uptown. that may be why the woman with the twin shotguns walks unnoticed out of the taxi that idles on the curb, and no one notices the severed arm of a young man that only stopped to give a pretty girl a ride.
she takes her first step.

she steps through the plate glass, its solidity fading for but a moment as she walks closer. 20 steps down. inside are the remains of broken bar stools and tables, rat feces and cardboard. here and there is the sound of the chittering, the rats paying homage to the godess in the black dress as she makes her way toward the back.

20 more steps and there is the door. from somewhere beyond there is a light and music softly playing, maybe kate bush or tori amos screaming about the rape of the mystic, the ignorance of the devine. somewhere there is a shriek of pain followed by a bellow of pleasure. she pauses and listens to the symphony of decay, the cacaphony of the divine. she thinks once more of the ruby slippers. will glinda wait behind that door?

67 more steps and there is a stairway covered in a film of dust and filth. a skelatal hand rests at the foot, a beckoning finger inviting all to step forward. there is no banister. from the walls faces sneer from the rose colored patterns.

12 more steps, what a magic number. there is a landing with a window, the window overlooking the street. a crowd of people sit in an alley, betting their lives on the roll of the dice. their eyes are hollow, their souls spinning restlessly above their heads praying for escape. after all this is the one city. no one wants to stay lest they become apart of the eternity of it.

23 more steps another corridor. doors line the debris strewn wood floor more rats silently praying to the rat god that this girl thing has not come for them, is not their end. she nods at each with reverence, knowing they are her only allies in these hallowed halls that lead her farther into and away from the one city.

over the next 56 steps she glances into each door where scenes from the city play themselves out to her, tempting and beckoning. she sees two pairs of eyes peer through a doorway, a smile illuminated by the quick flash of a lighter and sweet smelling smoke. the music here is louder, hundreds of songs jumbled together, a passion of the sound. there is a woman, her legs spread in a pair of metal stirrups, her insides pulsing and wanting to push out the dead unwanted flesh that has gestated inside her for years. men feeding each other bowls of their own urine, smiling as it drips down their festering chests that glow with the sweet stench of radiation.

103 steps through hell after heaven, through saints and sinners intertwined in comprimising situations. 104 more steps of darkness. 105 steps past doorways into lives and heartaches and hopes. and then there are more stairs

5 steps and there is a human skull that leers up from the floor.

10 steps and the stairs turn back, another hallway, another world of hurt.

and the door. she looks at the slippers and the world begins to slide again. she thought that she had picked her side when she let him go into the sunset. the sunset welcomed him and she rejected the light. darkness had become her, and she had become the darkness. its weapon, its wrath. this was not a war that she wanted, not the war that she had signed up for. once upon a time she fought causes that mattered. the continued suffering of the innocents so that maybe once in their future that they can feel happiness. the continued confusion so that maybe one day they can see clarity. chaos to make order.

and now the world becomes colorful. black and white taken over by brilliant blues and reds and purples. and the shades of grey in the shadows.

from all sides the walls seem to pulse as she gets closer. there are no more steps, her feet just seem to glide. the door stands sturdy as if built yesterday, its brass handle glinting under the ever brightening red light.
she takes the first shell and cocks a shotgun.

i gave the benefit of the doubt its true

breathe in

looking for a job is ever so tiresome. even more tiresome is the fact that you know that you are overqualified and people aren't hiring you because of that simple reason. and you don't have a degree in beer bongs... er... i mean business or psychology. i need to start my own business. i need to be the captain of my own destiny.

i need enough money for a pack of cigarettes.

i know that this has to end in the next week because if it doesn't i will have to slit my throat while my head is in my gas oven after i have taken a bottle of aspirin washed down by a bottle of mad dog laced with comet cleanser. knowing my luck they would all cancel each other out and i would end up with 3 million in medical bills. i have seen all these 'are you gay and do you masturbate' type posters for medical studies but they don't pay, they just give you free drugs and shit.... ah well life.

breathe out

its time to talk about celebrity and what makes a celebrity. i know its my massive obsession with television rearing its ugly head again but its been on my mind. is tawny kitaen still a celebrity? according to e! true hollywood story she is. is carey hart not that much of a celebrity? according to vh1's the surreal life he is. inked is by far my new favorite show, aside from my erotic obsession with tattoos, and i know that carey hart is sorta becoming like how tony hawk was to my youth, a sort of non-celeb legend that really is a celeb. would anybody be saying anything about tom cruise if he wasn't dating katie holmes but rather, some producer chick who at one time was behind the scenes of some show like cheers. probably not. i know celeb obsession is about living vicariously, but how much of it is just manufactured or trumped up reality we'll never know. personally i would like to hear a celeb come out with a step by step guide on how to take a shit without distressing your colon too much.

breathe in

kudos to sem.... talk to ya soon. and there is another ventilate on the way. now that i don't have to stream it and run i have been actually working on something much longer and comprehensive... stay tuned.

nebulize

poe - control

lungs and water and the effects thereafter

breathe in

i haven't felt this way in a long time. i should just say that, because i had a longer sentence that sounded like utter bullshit. you know. drunk sort of stupid shit. i should say that i saw him and wanted so bad just to tell him that i could relate... now that its not so bad. now that i have at least something that i can offer him besides bedside sarcasm and a note saying see you next week. i could say that i'm independently wealthy... that would go over good.

i could say that i love him.

i could sit here and write about it and never do a fucking thing because the coward that i am won't let me admit those things basic to my being.

what did i say before... its only flesh.

i think i'll start reading clive barker again

superficial smiles and something dirty

breathe in

when you look in someones eyes and know that it was supposed to be you.... and you know that they are going home with someone much hotter and well.... more equipped.... what do you do? you smile and blame it on the weather. you blame it on circumstance..

i just blame it on me.

i think clive barker said it best.... its just flesh.

nebulize

the cardigans - my favourite game

even rockstars get the blues

breathe in

its been a while i know.. between this cut and that cut and your random blue dragonfly.... but really i'm fine. i haven't been sleeping, but haven't been wanting to post. truth gets me like that.

i've ruined everything.

i ache and it happens. i'm scared to think what could happen if i was truly happy.

nebulize

folk implosion - kingdom of lies

independence day (belated)

nebulize

we drove our car to the top of the parking ramp
fourth of july
sat out on the hood with a couple warm beers
and watched the fireworks explode in the sky
there was an accident of birds in the trees
they didn't know that we were only pretending
and people all looked up and looked pleased
and the birds flew around like the whole world was ending
i don't think war is noble
i don't like to think that love is like war
but i got a big hot cherry bomb and
i want to stick it in the mailslot of your front door

you can't leave me here
i've got your back you better say you have mine
you say the coast is clear
you say that all the time

so many sheep i quit counting
sleepless and embarressed about the way that i feel
trying to make molehills out of mountains
building basecamp at the bottom of a really big deal
did i ever tell you how i stopped eating
when you stopped calling
i was cramped up shitting rivers for weeks
at the calm notion that i was finally free

you can't leave me here
you're down on your back you better stay this time
and you say the coast is clear
you say that all the time

-ani difranco

polar bears made sense to me

breathe in

in the event that i was wronged....he deals...he does....and i have fucking photos


in the event the he was wronged.... you need to pick them better



nebulize

garbage - why do you love me

i think i fell in a bed of roses

ventilate

the red light pulsed a silent heartbeat outside the window, a neon 'u' screaming its death song among the joy of the other silently buzzing words and pictures that lined the avenue. he smiled, and continued to put his pants on, one leg at a time.

his thoughts went over the past few days, the past few years. he saw her and him and we and she and he and almost christ. almost.

a roach traced its way along the floorboards, leaving cryptograms of footprints in the ages old dust. she stirred, her breathing a clockwork of wheezes and sighs. he slowly walked to the window, peering through the bars and the mildew. he saw whores and johns, a wide array of dead poets, and the ones that called themselves muties. he saw those with the marks of st. alaric on their foreheads, wandering fools stained with the scent of commerce and filth. he saw the consulate, their iron masks hiding the sweat stained brows and their doubtful eyes. and the drums. of course he heard the drums.

he saw a light in a tower across the trees to the east. he knew he was waiting with his liquor and his wit. somewhere staring back at him across the dark expanse red eyes waited. the knife grew a hot silver when he spoke his name under his breath.

next time it will be a bed of roses, her name a thousand words of glory. next time it won't be like this.

sickening sighs and sweet overtures of you

breathe in

i sometimes fall behind. i sometimes think that this can be nothing more than anything else and i fall. i think that i can come back and try. i think and i fall and i dimly remember that none of this is quite what i had planned.

sounds like a bunch of emo shit but it is what's on my mind right now.

breathe out

i don't do drugs. ok a little. ok used to be a lot but still i don't do them anymore. that much.

i think that when a drug dealer accuses you of stealing from him that he doesn't trust you. just a thought.

nebulize

madonna - secret

spinning all on a blade of grass

breathe in

still evil. ever so still evil.

i think i have a cold. fucking june and i have a cold. its this congestion in the back of my throat, this wicked evil cough that i think i got from the dogs no less. dumb ass sick dogs.

still looking for a job. still looking for some recognition. still looking damnit.

as it happens update! - my dumbass roommate was supposed to be at work at 7:30 this morning and stayed at a tricks hotel room and just now got home! he says nothing happened, but lets wait until the beer wears off to make that judgement.

sure i have been a hooker. i have played tonsil hockey with about 5 people in the last 5 months. i think that is a conservative number compared to my former escapades. but he has done the same to 5 people in probably the last 5 days and feels no shame at all. and wonders why his ' sinuses' act up all the time. wonders why his legs hurt. its cause your a fucking whore and you probably got me sick in the first place and your legs are up in the air all the time bottom boy. good jesus.

i have been thinking a lot of the ones that have ran away lately, the ones that i pushed away. i know, its sooo hard to tell by the posts.

for once in my life i want to settle down. i want that white picket fence blah crap. i don't want to be in pain anymore. i don't want to be alone.

breathe out

so many things. i neglect to post and so many things have happened. a woman murdered by a latent homosexual in aruba. a pedophile acquitted. hell, trista even got kicked off of dancing with the stars. what is this world coming to?

don't think that guy in aruba wasn't a mo. he had it written all over him. he was european for chrissake, and he had profiles on the internet in some not so straight places. unless you're a total noob you know you don't put nekkid pics of yourself on hotornot type sites without wanting the deep dickin. its one of newton's laws i think.

mj thinks he got away with it again. i don't think that his career will recover in the us at all tho. but finally my theory has some backing. he doesn't molest those children, he sucks their blood. i was at ww the other day and i just thought of the best concept. mj is a nos who has a desire for the blood of pubescent boys. thats his doppelganger that goes out in the sun. its all right there in the rules. its possible.

nebulize

esthero- song for holly

i can't see a tower and a triangle, but damn do i see stars

breathe in

i went on gay.com tonight just to see how far a former legitimate chat site has sunk into the depths of hookup hell. it was pretty far. i had a great friend ask me if i would let him service me. another guy, who by the way wouldn't give me the time of day at the bar, tell me that he saw me tonight and wants to fuck my sweet ass.

men.

just thought i would give a late night shout out to all you peeps who aren't looking for a quick fuck.

if i want one of those i can go to charlie's.

nebulize

lauren christy - boomerang bang

creating darkness from a spoonful of wonder

breathe in

this has been one of the most stressful weeks of my life. and i wasn't even working.

yes i lost my job. it was bound to happen. hell it needed to happen. they didn't have to be such assholes about it. but just to say that i put it out for the whole world to know....

CONTACT ONE CALL CENTER CAN LICK MY NUTS. BRIAN MCDONOUGH CAN TAKE HIS GLASS EYE AND GIVE HIMSELF A RECTAL EXAM WITH IT. RANDI MERRILL CAN GIVE BIRTH TO THE ANTICHRIST.

and that makes me happy. that's the wonderful thing about blogs. i can write anything i damn well want and no one can do shit to me.

i hope they rot in hell.

on a brighter note, i think i already have another job. 4 days isn't that bad i don't think. i did work my tail off tho.

breathe out

jacko goes to jury. i wish i wrote headlines for such lofty media sources like time, newsweek and the godlike entertainment tonight. the verdict in this case will once again disillusion the western world, while fueling the flames of hatred from our eastern counterparts. we can't even punish our own criminals. hell we can't even define what is a criminal act anymore.

things were easier when you went to jail for looking funny and you had to fuck your honey through a hole in a sheet.

nebulize

sarah mclaughlin- fallen

i just want to be loved... is that so wrong..

breathe in

sobriety post aside, i have this sneaking creepy suspicion that i am going to get bombed out of my gord tonight. call it intuition. call it divine intervention.

hell, call it i want to see j, s, c, b, p, and all the others and feel like i matter.

is it sad when all your friends work at a bar? i mean sure they serve you drinks, and only charge you half of the time so thats a bonus. but honestly i have a good time with those boys. they put a smile on my face before the blitz settles in and then keep it going. i don't think i end up closing the bar because of the booze, because honestly there are times when i don't have a drink for 2 hours. i think i stay there because i am going to miss that one magic moment when everything is perfect and we all look at each other and just say 'wow, it's been a good day'.

i miss feeling like that. i miss having that warm support. i miss playing nhl 99 and acting like i didn't know how to play and then kicking everyone's ass and winning the tourney. i miss diablo 2. i miss mirrorshades and broomsticks. i miss orgotek. i miss the dark symmetry. i miss chasing the dog out to the lake. i miss frankenkitty. i miss p's foot rubs. i miss mushroom pizza. i miss the carnivorous beanbag. i miss the 4-9 amusement hour. i miss the tower and the barrel of beer. i miss the sprinkler and the shopping cart. i miss poe on the roof. i miss elevators and head bumps. i miss four rooms and squares. i miss turtle blood and hair parties.

i think that i have wiped my past clean so many times that it comes rushing back with much more force as i get older. faces and regrets and downright lies stare at me and accuse and judge and belittle.

i want them all back, and i don't even know if that is possible.

so like i said... there is a pretty good chance that someone is getting schnockered tonight, and i'll give you one guess who that is.

addiction didn't create this alcoholic.

regret did.

breathe out

i want to be a popular blogger. i want someone to see my blog and go ' oh my god he is the smartest man alive, lets put his sperm in the smithsonian'.

actually i just want someone to link my blog to their website just to make me feel cool.

fuck - at least i'm honest!

breathe in

i had the coolest psuedo waking dream on the bus on the way to work today. i was listening to haunted and this vision of a really cool video came to me. i would put it in the ventilate posts, but its not really a story, more of a video for the song, and also a take on mark z's book. i envision as the song starts showing a guy driving a car, maybe like an old school chevelle, standard, a sort of primer greenish gray. in the passenger seat there are polaroid photos of houses, all sorts like on the disc for the album. when she starts singing, the camera actually goes into one of the pictures and shows a woman in a house. a little girl runs past her and she smiles. she is sort of cleaning or something and notices the little girl gone and a door where there wasn't one in the last shot, open and nothing but darkness. the camera goes into the door and pans out of a mans eye, and as we get the full shot he is enraged and screaming. this is the chorus now. the woman from before and this man are screaming at each other and throwing various keepsakes at each other. the little girl stares on while they obliviously argue, the camera closing in on her as the chorus ends, going into one of the black squares on her little dress. 2nd verse, camera pulls out of the black and back into the car. the guy in the car is driving slowly down a tree lined street, with a picture in his hand, he pulls up in front of the house from the photo and the camera zooms in the door. (and these shadows keep on changing). 2nd chorus you see the woman entering the door and running down an infinitely deep and dark corridor, supposedly yelling out the little girls name, running faster until she gets to a door and the bridge starts. she opens it to see her ?husband? sitting alone in the darkness, terrified. as she tries to approach he keeps scooting back in horror. (i will always miss you) at the climax of the song the darkness sweeps in all around him as he screams, sucking him in. she is sort of pushed back and the door is closed in front of her. she turns around, herself frightend for the 3rd verse. now the hallway is filled with doors. she frantically opens one after the other, looking in and seeing nothing. she finally emerges out in the house that begins to start shaking. (3rd chorus) the floorboards are bursting up, almost in claw shapes. she is avoiding them and looks up and sees her daughter in a closet sort of area. she runs over, avoiding the ruptures in the floor, grabs the girl and rushes out the front door, narrowly missing being hurt or grabbed by the house at all turns. she has her daughter in her arms and she is weeping as she steps out on the lawn, collapsing to her knees. the camera pans out to the guy in the car, holding a polaroid of the house which he has now set on fire, and throws out the window. the woman watches as the car drives away. song fade. ba da ba pa.

i know that was long but i had to write it all together or else it wouldn't flow right from my head.

just a cool thought for a 5 year old song.

nebulize

poe - haunted

the taste was sweet, and you delivered

breathe in

i feel so healthy when i don't drink. i know that's a great big captain obvious statement, but it is sort of true. my sobriety i think contributed to the awesome dream that i had last night. all i can say is it had something to do with the karshner triplets, the underside of some stadium bleachers and a ski mask. and i was just watching.

god i'm dirty.

breathe out

what in the hell happened on alias? my name is not michael vaughn? what in the fuck? that's an even better cliffhanger than sidney waking up in hong kong with three years of her life gone. i screamed out loud at the end. like a fucking little girl i did.

and lost. just a fucking pit or tunnel or something? the rest of it was cool. i like the fact that someone got blown the fuck up in the sfirst 10 minutes of the show, and they couldn't have chosen better than that whiney ass doctor.

it was a good night for quality television. people want a little more strangeness in their lives, some more surprises, and it shows by our current habits. people love lost, alias, desperate housewives. we are sick of reality, that is why we immerse ourselves in a story, whether it be a book, tv show, movie, porno, whatever.

nebulize

tircky - u don't wanna

choking on the words of wise men

breathe in

call me a dumbass, call me a slacker, but i just haven't posted in a while. i think its a combination of trimspa and depressed apathy. oh well. i spend my days wanting to quit this place, but then i can't imagbine what they would do without me. i spend my nights thinking of the ones that got away, the ones that i chased away, and all the ones inbetween. there is this darkness that comes about me this time of year, i don't really know why. i got drunk and blacked out for the first time in years. i fell down the stairs in our house.

i think its this time of year when he comes back, lurking at the back of my head.

i have tried to forgive him and tried to forget him. i have stripped his image of any greatness whatsoever and turned him over into the buffoon i always knew him to be. yet i see glimpses on sidewalks, and it sends everything spinning.

breathe out

i read that 60 minutes 2 has been cancelled for next season, with no report of dan rather going back to 48 hours or the real 60 minutes. i guess cbs is still punishing a good man for making a simple mistake, while praising all the truly evil men in the world nightly in convenient 3 minute time slots. its a sad day for mass media. a sad time period.

nebulize

tori - sweet dreams

lets propose a toast... to the thing that hurts the most

breathe in

i am sooo in trouble. i got way too drunk last night for the first part. the second part is that i made an ass out of myself last night. the third part is that i don't know why i am doing this......

nebulize

massive attack - teardrop
"you're totally in turmoil"

the action of inaction

breathe in

i have always been a forgiving person. i really think so at least. this weekend was no exception. in the past 2 days i have forgiven two people that i should have ripped out their testicles. actually one of them i still might, but that's another story.

on saturday he decided to come back. he told me that he missed me, that he made a mistake. he kissed me and i swooned.

on sunday another one decided to betray me, to make a fool out of me. i decided to forget about it, and to also hold it in the back of my heart waiting for the day that i can strike back.

but the important thing here is that he came back.

not even the big piece of shit has made me feel this way. makes me feel wanted. he makes me feel strangely fine.

and i love his kisses.

he won't let me call him my boyfriend yet. i know that sounds like stupid high school crap, but i haven't really been able to say that and be proud of it for a long time. and i would be proud. i would be more than happy.

anyone want to place bets on when the pessimisstic insecure psycho comes back? i give myself a week.

and c, you didn't call me yesterday you dirty rotten piece of cat poo. i will get you and your little dog too.

nebulize

sneaker pimps - becoming x

she cries your name

breathe in

just another lazy saturday at the old bump and grind. i really do like saturday's pretty much, this 8-4 thing is nice, and i don't like to go out on friday's anyway. plus i get 8 hours of peace and quiet without any interruptions.

god i have turned into one of those people.

i will say that this new situation has got me meeting a lot of new people that i could see devolping long term friendships with, like the j's and p. once i get to know them all better that is. there is still that trace of sketch lingering with them, but we'll see. i consider myself down to earth for the most part at least, and i think that they are seeing that.

except for the fact that i'm nuts.

oh well, i need to actually do some work

say hi to emma

nebulize

massive attack - teardrop

the glory and the wonder

breathe in

boy am i a slacker! for all of you that have been reading this faithfully you have noticed that recently i have been sort of anti posting. i am alive i've just been moving. so here is an update.

we are moved in, my room is actually clean and we have not yet killed each other, although today was a close one.

after hours parties until 3 am is not good for this boy all the time. especially on a school night. thank god tina didn't come over or i would soooo be in trouble.

**** c needs to call me ******

breathe out

my favorite website has decided that they are no longer going to offer ther funnest shirts because of a personal decision. fuck that. your customers have demands! i am an autistic kid and i fucking rock! i can't believe that they would do that to me. they even took away the coffee in the freezer shirt. fucking winey ass women and fucking crybaby conservatives got the best of the so called ' idon't care fuck you all' business man that runs the site. who cares if you have nasty hitler shirts. who cares if you love niger. suck my dick whoever strong armed him into taking down the shirts.

ESPECIALLY THE AUTISTIC SHIRT!

i guess i will have to make my own....hmmmm....

nebulize

lamb - darkness