SHEEPISH GRINS

just like old times

2002-11-27T09:14:44Z

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_____________________ is killing me.

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I don't know if this is where I am hiding... if it is, I am hiding in A ghost of memories from someone elses catacombe. a gripping dialogue... a haunted reason......

curse

lets move it

2002-11-26T10:59:26Z

go.
go away.
again.

The competetion has been shut out.

2002-11-25T18:19:35Z

My mornings are black. COmplete blackness. Moon doesn't even reflect onto the snow. Black.

If I pump one more dollar into the bleeding CHrist whore Xmas blow out, I fear I will bust something internally that's crucial. Too crucial to go on... I got shit for this whole town. Every man woman and child. It's a play to get left alone.

The streets over the weekend were littered with staggering Salloon promoters. The health aid (our doctor personality) paid for a charter flight to the next village to pick up a couple hundred pounds of the good stuff. Charter flights are a rip off. He was last seen trying to walk normal from his neighbors house.

I gotta stop acting like birthdays are so special. Birthdays are a dime a dozen. Everyday theres an infinity of special people.

I get to replace a hydrogen sensor at the earth station soon. I anticipate shocking myself. A phone duck did tell me that I could use "roach clips" to section off the current, as I replace the old sensor.

All those burning buildings.... all because someone told someone else that some pageant tripe looked like their wife. Nothing is real. I am not real.

Saw octopus swimming around. It was orange.

Mass Destruction. Never bothered anyone before.

users

2002-11-22T05:35:26Z

freestone

This user has predicted his own death.

users

2002-11-22T05:33:50Z

freestone

This user has predicted his own death.

altar_boy @ 2002-11-21T12:38:00

2002-11-21T21:40:02Z

The new VPSO who is coming here, apparently had a mustard bottle shoved up his ass as a kid and he took some self defense courses, and now, he will be our village cop. He's also a pot-head.

cold as I want to be.

2002-11-21T09:36:17Z

Cold as I want to be.
I can only melt things when I don't concentrate.
I have to keep a beat.
one more chance before I rip you up.
you suck. you juvenile. you are shot to hell.
come at me again. I can't even tell.
you suck that hard.
oh
i pay attention to constellations.
since becoming one.

covered up graffiti. rag time. drag me down as a group one more time. kick. kick. kick.

hounds.
get down.

come back around.

altar_boy @ 2002-11-20T20:45:00

2002-11-21T05:46:44Z

http://terrypepper.com/lights/closeups/fogsignal/diaphone.htm

altar_boy @ 2002-11-20T20:45:00

2002-11-21T05:45:32Z

http://terrypepper.com/lights/closeups/fogsignal/diaphone.htm

Scotch Cap keepers.

2002-11-21T03:54:24Z

Ted Pedersen

2002-11-21T03:46:14Z

I have a feeling this was the lighthouse keeper at Cape Sarichef, which is the western most lighthouse in the Northern U.S. He was enlisted at a different site, but indications are that he was our watchman after it was first constructed. The site also has naval radar stations and rotting fuel with PCB's which were abandoned by the coast guard, and the Wildlife refuge director. Since a tidal wave took out the initial lighthouse, all that remains are large concrete slabs with rebarr. I hope to one day convince a fisherman, or the mayor who has a plane, (gravel runway is actually larger than our gravel runway) to take me to the site for pictures etc. I am interested in creating a memorial for the site.

WHITE ALICE... ABANDONED

2002-11-21T03:15:25Z

a nice big cup

2002-11-20T04:14:36Z

oil spill

2002-11-19T20:27:29Z

20 million gallons is a devastating amount of fuel to spill. Every resident in Alaska, man woman, child, receives $1500-$1800 a year for eternity because of a spill half that size.....

FUCK

2002-11-19T12:06:18Z

Not only do I take it all back, but I return it. I'm so mislead.

Apparently, I can't go anywhere.

altar_boy @ 2002-11-19T02:28:00

2002-11-19T11:32:15Z

i guess you can't have it.

I hope everyone saw their own meteor.

settlers

2002-11-19T11:00:24Z

I am sick with it
through a jungle on my back, sliding along, pierced by sunlight, guided by steel decking, tagged by faded yellow warnings, cut and torn by exotic principales with archaic hand weapons, panting like juveniles from all corners...

but then here comes the people.

as terrible as you
not half as good as you
divided, but not hard enough.

Dial

2002-11-19T10:34:09Z

Can I forget when you spoke to me?

No.

How many I have I spoken to?

One.

Wolverines.

Come back for a dead sister.

2002-11-19T10:27:21Z

I'm ready to talk.

drop spot

2002-11-19T08:52:16Z

Sean Penn.

I see myself through ten thousand miles of dry ice, wrapped like a mummy in fur and cheap fabric, huddled over a chill scrape, and carving circles in the storm, beneath my feet, loosing balance, in moments of clear exhilaration when my neck cranks back and feeds my profile with tiny white branches, sweeping me into a dizzy state, where I slam my head back to the front and pretend to have a sexual nature. Pretend. Don't let on, that you actually want things. Have spontaneous, errogenous bouts. Only spy fuckers who have no business having business, can see you out there. Not always. So jaded. Postage is a toll. Nothing is right. Where do you go? Don't say the trail. Watching meat prevail. I want to come see you.

Onto the ice we go and losing half our body in eternity just to save some drowning ideal from sinking under... not to mention we used it as it's own bait. I love death diving more than I love posing for skin cream. I love sawdust and rotten shells more than I love special bonded paper. I love cum-like crane lube, frozen like icing more than I love shaking hands with royalty. I like hanging halfway off the pier, rescuing fiberglass from the other side of the planet and feeling my lip hit the planks as I make a go for it. I like running out of time.
I like running out of time.
I like running out of time.
I like running out of time.
Come to me. Go to them. Call. Ask for him. Speak with her. Drag out of every source, a confession that means nothing.

In ten years. It could still have a destination.

Highly likely, or very close to hanging.

passport

2002-11-19T08:28:50Z

DIE DIE DIE.

If it's possible, I want to be more remote than this. Further away. Completely out of the loop, but resting above a tall peak and able to see everything kind of mapped out electronically in the air, unless it's humid.

Fingers from foreign places point into the webbing and snag like a crotchet hook a fiber. Once singled out, it can be completely removed from the weave. Taken to an oily end. Wrapped around a toilet roll and dumped. Burned into a thousand flakey embers and hung on the nose of a fox running from headlights, still dragging a black plastic bag, and kind of curious enough to turn back and check out the biggest thing to happen since the last blast from the past.

NOthing new remembered. Only the oldies. My memory isn't mine.

xmas sucks

2002-11-19T08:14:56Z

DEREK HESS . honor

2002-11-19T08:12:58Z

http://www.derekhess.com/GallerySearch.cfm?Type=Posters&Year=1993&Start=1

Here are some of his original works. I remember some of his awesome fliers.

DId magazines, album, original , flier art... also marvel comics Captain America..... cool link.

"practise vandalism only on what must be disfigured"

2002-11-19T07:33:02Z

Hakim Bey...

http://216.239.39.120/translate_c?hl=en&u=http://biblioweb.samizdat.net/article.php3%3Fid_article%3D45&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dsuppression%2Bart%26hl%3Den%26lr%3D%26ie%3DUTF-8%26oe%3DUTF-8%26sa%3DG

http://216.239.39.120/translate_c?hl=en&u=http://biblioweb.samizdat.net/article.php3%3Fid_article%3D44&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dsuppression%2Bart%26hl%3Den%26lr%3D%26ie%3DUTF-8%26oe%3DUTF-8%26sa%3DG

"Just like the banishment of the illusion amplifies the conscience, the demolition of the aesthetic plague softens the air of the world of the speech, Other."

" Break the symbols of the Empire in the name of nothing if it is not the desire of grace of the heart."

Shiraz

2002-11-19T07:15:30Z

There is a scene in A movie where there is a video of a plastic bag floating in an alley gust. It always swoops to the ground, like a diving bird, and then is gracefully lifted where it catches some air, and sort of drifts in mid-air, only to be suddenly and violently taken back down.

I sent a photo I took of a local girl into a Bush shopper newspaper, which has a photo feature and prizes for entries in each issue. I won $50.00 for sending in this disposable camera photo of Susan in a dress her mother made, in a storm, holding her two dogs. It was cool to see one of us in the paper. On the map. You never see pictures in there from here. Everyone is too wasted or too busy, or too wasted to be busy, or too busy to be wasted. This is the big time baby. Dollar Dollar bill ya'll.

Good Morning America came to the mainland in a neighboring town and filmed the kids doing some dances. I can just imagine the clash. I once climbed a mountain over there. I stole a dog, and we ran up together. I slid down on my parka, and beat the hell out of my ass for high speed. AT the bottom of the slope, there was a russian orthodox church, which never seemed to be open, or maybe I was never near it when it was, and it had the crispest appeal. Very simple. Stark. Kind of trinket like in my memory. I was such a reporter back then.

I went out on the water for a while and felt very at peace, if it weren't for the five men on there with me in cramped quarters. I was there as a henchwoman for the Japanese. In some small way, I allowed a Tokyo banker to sleep in a drawyer in the palace of a whore, poisoning statement after statement in fur. Hotels, Fur, and a marketable ocean. Our family will live forever.

NIchiro.

What is so fucking wrong with me, is I refuse to pay attention. It just oozes out, and forces it's nasty teeth into my hand.

Not so gallant with the language. That's me.