The stance in his reflection never changes.
A one sided mirror, perhaps.
he lets him exploit her- one, two, three times. As if she was an object he could employ to echo his self- admiration on,

Anticipating the frame of him crushes
her weakness like a bug.
He has delayed all of her good judgments,
like a stopwatch time now moves slowly.

She wants him gone… yet enables herself to do so.
In her passivity is a silent death.
It lies in the strong scent of her blood that she is no longer
here and present and so he hovers, yes,
like flies hovering in blood from a man on the verge of death.

He Thinks of her as only a dark, wet hovel, empty and not
so much of anything pretty. Like something you WOULD find in the street,
The gutter, or dirty in the ground, in the woods.
She pretends to have fun, like an actress. Only she wins no love for her performances, No.
He is full of ‘it’ too, she cynically believes.
His act is as hopeless as a sweaty salesman’s.
And twice as sleazy.

one silent harmony does occur within the night though:
like a despondent song between the willingly mute.
And hence how desperate they were was they only common land-
one they failed to see they stood on together.

copywrite 2007 JS

this is a short story I did: I have yet to rewrite it. It needs editing.His body was as lifeless as a rotting corpse, yet as he let into the apartment building, he never felt so free as he did then. There was something releasing about being on the edge of ruin. Reduced to debris when he already felt like nothing in this world. He had been beaten down to death empathically, the loss of feelings was perfectly blocked by healing himself with booze and weed, various prescription pills which he popped like candy. Of course he would never be that honest. He was having fun, parting, doing what every other 30 year old does. time. It didn’t have an effect on him differently than other people. ‘They’ had made up this junk about him having a mental illness, and him being different. It was a conspiracy. To make him look crazy. Why they wanted him to look crazy and who ‘ They’ exactly were was beyond him. Now he would have to deal with shit that most people would never have to deal with in their entire life. But it wasn’t him. He never had anything to do with it.

I Weed out your honesty starting from nothing

 

 

He walked in and lit up a joint, turned up a CD. Smoking weed made him act in other peoples minds like a typically paranoid person would act, so he had heard from more then one of his ’friends’( since people really weren’t friends the were spies for the FBI), but right now he was too stoned to care. That was why he smoked. His mind was telling him that people were against him, always have been, always will be. The feeling was heighten in his body by the numbness he was beginning to feel. Instead of taking it as it was, he took it to mean something else. He knew he felt hatred, but after another puff it was gone, and replaced by nothingness one again.

But that was what everyone experienced when they smoked herb.

His phone rang. He answered the phone, voice wavy and uncaring “ Yeah”

“ Hey David, How come you don’t answer your phone anymore?” It was one of his friends, one of the spies.

“ you know I can’t pick up when I’m doing you know what…”

“ What? What are you talking about? Are you high?

“ Shhhhhh. I can’t say it. DON’T SAY IT OVER THE PHONE!”

“ Oh, right man, Hey, I was wondering if you could give me back my CD. You’ve had it, for like, two weeks now”

“ Oh, Don’t you remember you gave me your CD. It was a gift.”

“ C’mon man, stop fucking around. That CD is my mom’s and she wants it back so she can listen to it- The grateful dead is her favorite band, I can’t give that to you, I loaned it to you and you’ve had it for too long, you need to leave that apartment, come over and give it …”

“ Hey I was kidding, can’t you take a joke. Seriously though. can’t I ask your mom for that CD, do her sexual favors for it or something…”

There was a pause.

“ I gotta go. My girlfriend is on the other line Dave. I’ll call you back”

Dave hung up the phone, pleased with himself. He loved how he could say whatever to someone who was a ‘friend’ and get away with it. Friends and strangers always let him get away with everything. He knew he was charismatic and charming. He could do anything right now, even though people where always trying to fuck him up, make him think he was crazy. He was superman.

He took out the prescription anti-psychotic that he never needed and cracked the pills open. He opened the pills up and diced up the powder inside the pills with a razor.

 

 

Here is one of the poems that didn't make it into the class: ( I got an A in the class, but it dousn't count, because everyone got an A in the class if you wrote all the poems and journal entries) I am burnt out from that class!

Spun Yarn

She’s Pleased to meet your acquaintance

For tonight you are the evil spirit

clocked in at midnight. She had been in the official position

for your arrival.

You light her cigarettes and pay her in broken dreams and a

Jefferson.

That dress has been worn only for her relevance .

And your contentment .

You embroider the pillow with the faint knowing- odds and ends

chance of a man who knows no gray shadows in a person.

She lives no lives besides the one who lies beside her in the night.

And so nothing but A fool would do what you do, stop and look . Park.

Sit. Wait. Beg. Give. Laugh.

Look instead into those eyes…

and see your own child.

This is what you have yet to come, when time

stops to disguise itself in the denial of an thoughtless man’s plaything.


copywrite 2007 JS

 

 

 

 

I haven't been on of late, but I have been spending loads of money on Ebay. One of the items I purchased was these wierd ass cards that underground comic book artist Dame Darcy sells herself on there. I thought I would share what they looked like. She made them from glue, sparkles, construction paper, and her own comics:

the other day at the comic book store I baught aline kominsky crumb's new book "need more love": we need to give this woman more love as and underground comic artist in her own right . Even if she wasn't married to R. her work , unlike many underground male artist ( I am saying this though as a woman) is still true to life , not outdated, and funny as hell. So do your self a favor, man or woman, and BUY THIS BOOK! IT IS A STEAL AT $ 30.00! . This woman was just as revolutionary as her husband. Who cares that she can't really draw?

Aline Kominsky Crumb was born in Long Island, New York in 1948. She studied painting, collaborated on, wrote and edited numerous comics, magazines and books starting with Wimmen’s Comix and Twisted Sisters. She was the first female creator of the graphic novel form, a genre which came to prominence in the 80s. Her influence on comic art is firmly established and her comic strip characters unforgettable. She now lives in a medieval chateau in the south of France with her family. She continues to work on her own and with her husband R. Crumb and can be seen frequently in the New Yorker.   "She's the most bold and optimistic spirit in the world... she's a great cartoonist, a great storyteller."     R.Crumb

 Nerdcore hip hop, or geeksta rap, is a subgenre of hip hop music that is performed by nerds or geeks, and is characterized by themes and subject matter considered to be of general interest to nerds. Self-described nerdcore musician MC Frontalot coined the term in 2000 in the song "Nerdcore Hiphop". Frontalot, like most nerdcore artists, self-publishes his work and has released much of it for free online. As a niche genre, nerdcore generally holds to the DIY ethic, and has a strong amateur tradition of self-publishing and self-production. The only things required to enter the nerdcore community are a microphone, a computer, and a webserver. No recognized nerdcore albums have ever been released on a major record label, and MP3s, not CDs, are the primary means of distribution




I don't know what to say about this: I knew " emo" and "scremo" were in and now nerdom hasn't  been as big since skippy in the 80's and the revenge of the nerds movies and  all those damn corey haim/corey feldman / john walters flicks ( was that just a trend , or a reflection of the times?)
BUT  this new " trend" of being nerdy is kinda lame to me: don't real nerds get hated on by everyone pretty much, maybe acually once your out of high school... you don't get hated on for being a nerd you either:
become a comic book artist
sit in your apartment making bombs to sent to Bjork
collect old lp's/ comics/paper clips and try to make a living off of it
become like bill gates

BUT AGGHHHHH WHO MAKES LAME MUSIC AND PROCLAMES THEMSELVES AS A NERD AFTER HIGH SCHOOL IS OVER!
If you are one in other peoples eyes, you are one. I just think making a living with the words NERD or DORK in the title( well inless your a comic book artist) is sort of like people who proclaim power to anything that doesn't have a meaning because now it's a trend and so many people are down with it. There are always going to be others who laugh at you but EVERYONE has that.

that's all I have to say on nerdcore. for shizzle( I am joking)
there is also a great nerdcore for life movie trailer on youtube I tried to post here: check it out for laughs
M.C Chris is the only nerdcore rapper I have liked so far that I have heard

                                                                                         the following people are:



                                 this guy is:

A. nobody I know
b. drunk and being beat up by gang members
c.having  serious doubts about himself



these people are:
A.  best friends for life
B.lovers
C.how should I know?

 the pussycat dolls are A. a very good girl group
B. only have that one chick who does all the work and the others lip sync
C. are hot  men 

 Britney spears :

A. just stopped off at her favorite restaurant y'all!
B.has hair here
C. has had the breakdown from  eating too much McDonald's 
 these people are dressed up because:

A. they are at a gothic club B. it is halloween C. just for fun to scare you

 that ashtray above is: A. the most disgusting thing I have seen in my life
B. sitting next to two packets of condoms: and there is nothing more I love than sex and smoking a ciggarette!
C.45 years off a person's life
D. should be traded for pot!
 playboy bunnies are

A: should not ware those silly costumes
B. are almost always blond except a brunette snuck into this one photo
C. Are all married to hugh Hefner -ewwww?

If you filled out this quiz you have just  completely wasted your time but thank you. caio.

 part of my collection the eyes used to move around as he watched a duff bottle go aroundthis is me--- I haven't gotten dressed in three days because I don't have a job anymore- I used to be able to pay for all this stuff-

1. because I'm a media whore
   
   
   I just image searched both "Anna Nicole Smith dead' and 'Britney Spears bald' since those were the two things all over the news this week--- both facinated me and doing an image search on yahoo with those exact terms you won't believe the bazirre  things I came up with:

 Britney and Kevin It's still love
I don't know why this came up
 maybe wishing she was bald here?
bald somewhere else?
why this came up under britney spears bald I'll never know--- just another moment that led to her baldness perhaps
actually neither of them are bald here
 next it was on to find an ANS dead image on yahoo: this is what I came up with:
 yes....that's it.....not methadone...trim-spa baby!
I don't get ....if anyone gets this can they please tell me!
this is why ANS is dead?? because she went to high school...wait (she went to high school??)
?
her breast implants? leaking, popping, taking over her body and killing her?
 dammit! why does every damn image search have to end up with marah on yahoo-- what does she have to do with ans?
oh yes....that's why she's dead right? because she was once a fatty... ughghgh
Oh it's back to the britney spears bald ... hara krishna britney...maybe that was her motive?
britney looking like my 15 year old male cousin getting out of juvie

I didn't really get any answers out of all this___________________________

 I can't sleep at all anymore.............but atleast I have lost some waight from being off seroquel

waight I been in the last year

june 2005	172 1lbs
may 2006	162 1bs
right now	145-150 1lbs

I wish I could be one of those ana girls who don't eat anything : I would truly give up food for the respect and possible self-esteem that I crave....
something inside tells me that's not what's missing, that they are not happy, or atleast if I did it again I wouldn't be any happier.......

maybe I would just be a little happier, maybe at least I could get THIS off my mind

check list: check this right off my things to do

i was Sort of ana once i waighed 90 lbs. I look back at those photos and I don't look that good in them, I don't look  good now, but I looked  a little  better then, but I still looked like me.....
 I can't get away from that, I guess 

If you hate yourself that much at 160? what is different about you at 90-?--

 the only thing that was different was that there was less of me: I was about to fade away into nothingness I wrote about it all the time

as a person with hatred for herself I liked that feeling of being close to empty

emptiness= freedom from feeling anything
I want that again

and weren't the snorks just  the smurf's underwater?

are we all so superficial that britney spears chops off her hair and that's all we can talk about?

Anna Nichole Smith dies and that's all we can talk about?

What does Paris Hilton and The Olsons and Nichole Richie acually do becides fashion and parties and a few movies/show(forgettable)now and then?

what do any actor/actress/musician/writer/singer/artist/comic/ect. do In life that is so important to us( this is for everyone)?

why is looking a certain way so important?

who or what in our heads tells us to buy the music that we buy or like what we like?

I want to know?

                                                                       The video is of a young girl glaring into the camera--- 
              
                                                             telling her story of what it's like to have BDD -- while smoking a ciggorette no less, she dictates that she has been on tons of meds and  in and out of mental hospitals and one mental asylym-- who in the world since the 50's even has called it a mental asylem? than she states that she has been to therepy since she was 4???? and blah blah blah

  point being is that this young woman has the same mental disorder I do--- a mental disorder which leaves you angry at times you souldn't be and friendless when you want people to understand you and what is inside--- THIS IS SO HARD FOR ANYONE WHO DOUSN'T HAVE BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER TO UNDERSTAND BUT IT MAKES EVERY SINGLE IDEA, FRIENDSHIP, RELATIONSHIP, THOUGHT, PROBLEM... MORE COMPLECATED THEN IT IS SUPOSSED TO BE---

mentally ill people tend to fall into catogories--- they are the true pariahs if YOU HAPPEN to meantion  an illness to an accentence or friend or stranger or even teacher--- anyone becides a mental heath worker and even they have a frusterating acpect to this game called reality---
the struggle is made worse by being told  you are victimizing yourself if you show symtoms--- as if one would choose to fall into deppression and stay there- you are told by everyone you can get better if you tried- you are told not to take the medicine that was the one thing that helped in the blackest moments of despare--- then you are told it is just a mind trick you are playing on yourself--

But is everyone who is ill worthy of telling thier story----  with such vaunerbility are they right? 
even my brain I feel is not my own-- anymore
my body fat and bloted from years of medication is not my own anymore--- my idenity was long ago lost to what they labled me as/ my BPD
perhaps we are so diffrent from the other people I cannot go back----\\

I see the other kids at my school --- THe girls perfectly dressed, emo pretty boys, ganstas

WHEN ARE PEOPLE GOING TO START TALKING and stop staringInvalid video URL.