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[ website | Go to church. ]
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I wrote this [post] for you... [Jan. 31st, 2006|12:21 pm]
[mood |recumbentrecumbent]
[music |Matchbook Romance - Stay Tonight]

But then I switched targets. Beware, Saddam! Sodomize away!

(Reminder: any political aspersions are unfounded and likely apocryphal. Don't believe anything I say.)

(To my initial target: I hear Afghanistan's border with Pakistan makes a great getaway, but you're likely just as safe off-line.)

Okay, so admitting to sodomizing casual terrorists--to use the term loosely--is probably a bad move politically, but so is ending an e-mail with "good life" rather than "good night". Social suicide hurts a lot less than one might imagine. Well, not that I know how active your imaginations are; I sent mine to Mexico in a Magical Faerie Boat filled with dill pickles just to get hepatitis straight from the source. I admit, the nexus betwixt Taco Bell, its hepatitis, and Mexico is tenuous, but (phonetically) Saddamizing Iraq worked well. ...Right?

The Islamic Republic of Afghanistan is likewise enjoying the freedoms of a Western-styled democracy. Millions are still poorly nourished, about a quarter of all children die before they turn five, and half of all men and eighty percent of women are illiterate. Only six percent of the nearly thirty million people have access to electricity. But, to quote our unsightly Secretary of State, "Afghanistan is a wonderful success story...." Condoleezza's plastic surgeon has achieved analogous success. Even indulgently pouring plethoric pecuniary resources into a new face, the woman is still repulsive. Similarly, Afghanistan has received in excess of $11,900,000,000 in international aid--more than fifty percent of the country's gross domestic product (factoring in purchasing power parity, of course)--and the country is still one of the world's poorest. Afghanistan's former Planning Minister, Ramazan Bashardost, recently announced only nominal amelioration in the lives of his country's quotidian denizens. "The people are asking themselves 'if these billions of dollars have been donated, which of our pains have they remedied, what ointment has been put on our wounds'," he said. Well, our government certainly puts stock in the anodyne properties of money; just today, the beautiful Condoleezza Rice announced at a London summit that President Bush would seek approval for an extra $1.1 billion of aid for the Afghan people in the next year. (The United States has all ready committed itself to almost six billion dollars of annual aid.) Someone needs to inform our conservative administration that broken countries, like broken hearts, cannot be fixed with blank checks.

...Broken hearts, my seque to reality. Not that my dreams have been much better: dreams of you evanesce to crepuscular bathrooms with aborted babies in the drain. And is that soy sauce or blood? It won't come off. Cleansing hands is easier than expurgating memories. "Employees must wash hands before returning to work." This interregnum will cease anon and it will be back to work.

Can I leave you behind?
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Death is only as permanent as the next new game. [Jan. 27th, 2006|10:56 am]
[mood |listlesslistless]
[music |Silhouette - Rock, Paper, Beartrap]

(Ergo, the renascence of this journal should be viewed, not as a repudiation of a quondam renouncement, but as Livejournal redivivus, an extra life arbitrarily granted so that you can stab your eye out. Remember, if you see your life flash before your eyes, you're probably just hallucinating; think about inserting the following command into your internal BIOS: /endlife. You didn't see anything. Life is a lie. [And so, too, is death--and resignation--likewise illusory.] Welcome home, Sam.)

I didn't pee in the sandbox. I didn't even write any of this. It's not even true.

So, tergiversate! I'll be prancing down the yellow brick road. (And while you look up the sesquipedalian, tergiversate, I'll continue to equivocate!)

The yellow brick road doesn't mean anything. My pretense of thought is too easily pierced. By arrows and glances, but mostly by questions. There are no answers. Ask better questions.

Elucidate? I will not "engage in a fishing expedition." I don't even like fish.

But still you see through. Abstrusity doesn't hinder eyesight, unfortunately. Twist the kaleidoscope.

Now, with life properly perverted, everything is pretty, but it's probably just the drugs.

I just found two dollars in my bowl. It must have been hiding under the ice cream.


But I miss the pretense, the intangibles of pretending. Mr. Rogers pretended so well. I could always find a trolley....

We can paint a new veneer on reality, write all the lines, play all the roles. With Magic Pad our canvas, we can ...

Poof! Magicked!

And it's gone. (Gone because I stole that, too.)

So, never-you-mind (the tmesis; it's legal).

Running in place, I suppose, is the same as running away. Either way, we're making it up and the clock blinks 12:00.

You're always made up.

But so am I.

And so is this.

So make it work.

Ignorance is bliss. Easier said than dealt with.
You're so far removed, you wouldn't notice that I wrote this.
I'm just jealous of the addict's insomnia.
At least there's substance to blame, and subsequent change.
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"Don't waste your time with politics," he said. "Just chase skirts, instead." [Oct. 31st, 2005|07:53 am]
[mood |Chipper]
[music |Cute Is What We Aim For - Lyrical Lies]

Politics! Dissemble! Who, me?

This post is (not) about politics. Play your part.

You can be Osama as long as I'm Bin Laden.
Maybe you'd rather be Miers? I'll be Brown.
Incompetence meets inanity with inimitable haste. But where should they meet?

But we're forgetting! Hop on your Scooter! Let's go to war! Or to bed.

War vindicates your lies whereas fellatio exacerbates the severity of perjury.

Coherency faileth, but not morals.

Forget (me).

I resign!

So resign yourself (to misery). It's not that bad.
America is worse.
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[sean] (2:31:07 AM): talk about how you've fallen in love with me [Aug. 22nd, 2005|04:04 pm]
[mood |Bored enough to make a post.]
[music |Novice - The Distance]

So there it is. Out of the closet and into...


Perhaps not, but for the money, it's worth it.

As a side note, I found a list:
Read more...Collapse )
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(no subject) [Jun. 14th, 2005|09:05 pm]
[mood |Bored.]
[music |Out of Order - I Sleep so I Don't Have to Feel (You)]

Did I ever mention that my band is awesome?
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Tell all my friends I'm dead. [Jun. 4th, 2005|04:41 pm]
[mood |lazylazy]
[music |New Found Glory - Forget My Name]

Eighty-eight degrees and I'll eat you. Watch out.
It's beautiful outside. Good thing the air conditioner is on.

Feigned some thoughts on life as follows:

Out of Order doesn't suck anymore so give us money and we'll give you sex via music.

Also, we need shows to play. If you have any information on available venues *after June 18th*, let us know.
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"Sam, Someone Wants to Date You" [Apr. 4th, 2005|11:32 pm]
[mood |eh.]
[music |Acceptance - Breathless]

Yessss. At least spam in your inbox is better than spam in your mouth.

Anyway, my computer is dead. Jacob uses his excessively, thus limiting my online ventures.

I'm reading a book--for school--about a gorilla who communicates telepathically with a twelve year old girl. Enthralling.

We researched Koko the Gorilla becuase, apparently, understanding that there is a gorilla capable of communicating with humans (Koko can sign 1000+ words) somehow makes telepathy more feasible. I'd rather eat Cocoa Puffs©.



P.S. If you ever want to see me online again, give me money. Thank you in advance for your generous donations.
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Could this be out of line to say you're the only one breaking me down like this? [Mar. 21st, 2005|03:09 pm]
[mood |pleasedpleased]
[music |Acceptance - So Contagious]

This plot is gay(er than you). The way stories unfold in life are rarely as amusing as those found in published works, but this may be an exception.

I get to stay home for three days. I am allowed to come back to school on Friday (like it's a privilege). I get to make -up all the work.

The perceived problem probably stemmed from the making up part. I made up the paper as follows:
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When did we sell ourselves into this avalanche? Can't outlast the cold. Were we meant to get caught in this avalanche? Can't we lay down and die? [Mar. 6th, 2005|04:08 pm]
[mood |nostalgicnostalgic]
[music |Over It - Avalanche]

Can't we lay down and die? Probably not, but I've been doing enough laying down to make up for the lack of death. While wasting the days away in bed, I came to a few conclusions and since I clearly <3 livejournal, you get to see some of it.

I need another Shelley. I need that Someone to talk to everyday. I need Someone to make the day worth getting up for.

School has always been enough to elicit periodic paroxysms of anger--outbursts often found written between the lines of this journal--but with Her, troubles ended with the school day. She was there, and who cared about the avalanche? Weekends were full of fun; now they're full of naps.

At the same time, I've convinced myself of Love's futility and would rather that I not end up like my jacket--broken even when you zip me up. So zip up the body bag, I'll be in bed.

My goal in this post was to use the word paroxysm, so if that bit seems a tad forced...it was. My conclusions are still the same. Good night.
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Don't you love the way a little quiet solves everything when you can't help wondering how's it gonna be? [Mar. 2nd, 2005|12:47 am]
[mood |tiredtired]
[music |Over It - Shine]

snow is quite possibly gayer than i pretend to be.

good thing the hot hollis guys are amazing.
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