Onna No Baka
Feel the Fire
10:35 p.m.
It feels nice to just sit by myself and do homework, odd as it sounds. I had company all weekend. Company that I really didn't know how to react to most of the time. Gotta love awkward moments. We're all still alive, that's a good think I suppose. We didn't really do much, I sat glued to Yoj as usual, minus the annoyance of an open ICQ, but I still had the itch to compulsively log online every five seconds.
I just read The Yellow Wallpaper again for like the billionth time in my lifetime. It's a good story. I kinda feel how they lady does. Even with the feeling about the things crawling behind the wallpaper. I like to lay in my room at night and I just stare and sometimes, my walls move to. And maybe like her I am the thing in the walls, because I know that it's all in my head. Or at least I really hope it is. I dunno. I always have that watched feeling. I have to keep my windows closed because I think they're someone out in the trees that watch me. Even today when I went out to what could be my future home, I had like this presence there that was really kinda creepy. Like there was someone there that shouldn't be. The dogs were acting kind of funny too…I didn't stay long. Got what I came for and took off like a jittering junebug. *splats into the window*
I have a gargoyle that sits up with my artbooks, and sometimes now and then that thing creeps me out. Like the lights hit it just right and I feel like it's beady little eyes are following me around my room as move. I usually leave my room in that case. I know I'm just ultra paranoid thanks to my parents and all the murder stories I was told as a child (and still am told). Its like they always were like watch out! Everyone's out to get you! And so that’s how I feel most of the time and don’t deal well with public situations and avoid other humans at most costs. I mean, they point out all the people I should stay away from. (mainly child molesters and shit but yeah.) I mean everyone walks up to us in the store and talk to my mom and you just know they know her from the jail. Hell, a girl in my poetry class told me "Your mom put handcuffs on me I think…but then again all of them up there have." Great to know na? Not that everyone that goes to jail is bad. Just the psychotic ones that break into hotel rooms and stab old people to death with knifes after turning the TV volume up so loud no one can hear them screaming and dying. Better yet- these people knew my brothers! Or the bitches who (friends of my brothers again) nailed the two crackheads on the beach just for the fuck of it. One of them never even made it to Jail.
I remember being told to watch out for black vans or something when I was little because there were a bunch of them robbing houses out along our way.
There was also a time when my brothers girlfriend Kelly was dressing in front of a window in our bathroom and she looked outside (it was around 5 am) and there was this man standing there watching her and wearing an army teeshirt. Kelly, lacked even a shirt. She started freaking out, and they guy yelled to her, "Don't worry! I'm a friend of your dads!" I assume he saw *my* dad leaving for work in his uniform (army) and then putting that to use. Unfortunately, my dad, wasn't Kelly's dad. The guy asked for food and a shower, and when refused he walked around to the back of our house and picked up my old perfume bottle and poured its contents over himself and stated "this'll have to do." My brother went out there after awhile and chased the guy off.
Unlike many of the stories, that guy was pervy, but harmless, but he was still a crazy little fuck, yet adding to my general childhood disturbedness. People just needed to not tell me these things when I was little, I suppose it's good, I mean I haven't gotten hurt or anything yet due to my general paranoia but it also makes a lot of things a bit difficult.. But they could be completely unrelated things and I'm just mixing all of my fucked-up-ness into one giant pot confusing which lines connect to which dots. That, is completely possible. *shrugs*

Current Mood: Random
Current Song: Fragrance- Gackt

The Gold Plated spork last feasted upon your flesh on Sunday, November 4, 2001

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Why for is my book damp?
03:47 p.m.
Gar. I hate Angelfire and I have this looming feeling of evilness that they're just going to delete all my stuff very soon for no reason. I'm near tempted to go out and get a job, just so I can have my own bloody "dot.com" Of course, that's really been my job driving force all along-- that and DVDs. However…I have this odd feeling my parents are going to kick me out and send me to their other house. It'd be cheaper and more beneficial for them. Except they want me to have a roommate. I don't *want* a roommate* 24 hours with one person is more than enough. I do not want someone living with me. Not a friend anyway, we'd end up trying to stab each other in the dark of the night.
My brother called (though he was drunk on his ass) and was telling me how he was thinking about moving back to S______. If he does we'll room up together at our parents new house. One problem. He's sort of…"Youji-ish" in his ways, though the intensity of that likeness has greatly lessened- but it's still there. So I'd be dealing with him and his conquests and his drinking. Not too big of a problem…and if his ex-wife shows up I can kick the shit out of her. Yaaaay! Stupid broad. *punch*
Anyhow, as I was saying. I want a dot.com. Why? Why, why. I've wanted one for a very long time…even have a name lined out, though it has vaguely changed over the years. It would be nice because A: BANDWITH! I can upload my MP3s, I can do remote linking, all that evil shit that free-servers won't let you do anymore. Main driving force for bandwidth- I need my ugly graphics on my BLOG! Yes. I could have…a…have a picture of-of-of AYA or something. *cackle* And my worries of website disappearances would almost vanish. *sighs happily* Yes. I will get my dotcom someday. *sighs* :)
I don't give a shit if no one goes to my site…but…oooooooo….fancy name…no more angelfire/anime/angel/blah/blah/blah.html *giggles and falls over* I might share too. Since with my thriftiness I can't possibly use up all the space I'd be paying for….well I could if I tried but yea. I think you are grasping my concept. >_< And and and I could host Darren's page too…though I don’t think I would. I'm thinking about making Journal of a Knob Gobbler into a real journal of a Knob Gobbler. Dar needs a blog. A nice, pink blog. :)
hhmmmm

Current Mood: sick
Current Song: Gackt & Malice Mizer - Ma Chere

The Gold Plated spork last feasted upon your flesh on Thursday, November 1, 2001

o_O O_o o_O O_o o_O O_o o_O O_o

Why for is my book damp?
03:47 p.m.
Gar. I hate Angelfire and I have this looming feeling of evilness that they're just going to delete all my stuff very soon for no reason. I'm near tempted to go out and get a job, just so I can have my own bloody "dot.com" Of course, that's really been my job driving force all along-- that and DVDs. However…I have this odd feeling my parents are going to kick me out and send me to their other house. It'd be cheaper and more beneficial for them. Except they want me to have a roommate. I don't *want* a roommate* 24 hours with one person is more than enough. I do not want someone living with me. Not a friend anyway, we'd end up trying to stab each other in the dark of the night.
My brother called (though he was drunk on his ass) and was telling me how he was thinking about moving back to S______. If he does we'll room up together at our parents new house. One problem. He's sort of…"Youji-ish" in his ways, though the intensity of that likeness has greatly lessened- but it's still there. So I'd be dealing with him and his conquests and his drinking. Not too big of a problem…and if his ex-wife shows up I can kick the shit out of her. Yaaaay! Stupid broad. *punch*
Anyhow, as I was saying. I want a dot.com. Why? Why, why. I've wanted one for a very long time…even have a name lined out, though it has vaguely changed over the years. It would be nice because A: BANDWITH! I can upload my MP3s, I can do remote linking, all that evil shit that free-servers won't let you do anymore. Main driving force for bandwidth- I need my ugly graphics on my BLOG! Yes. I could have…a…have a picture of-of-of AYA or something. *cackle* And my worries of website disappearances would almost vanish. *sighs happily* Yes. I will get my dotcom someday. *sighs* :)
I don't give a shit if no one goes to my site…but…oooooooo….fancy name…no more angelfire/anime/angel/blah/blah/blah.html *giggles and falls over* I might share too. Since with my thriftiness I can't possibly use up all the space I'd be paying for….well I could if I tried but yea. I think you are grasping my concept. >_< And and and I could host Darren's page too…though I don’t think I would. I'm thinking about making Journal of a Knob Gobbler into a real journal of a Knob Gobbler. Dar needs a blog. A nice, pink blog. :)
hhmmmm

Current Mood: sick
Current Song: Gackt & Malice Mizer - Ma Chere

The Gold Plated spork last feasted upon your flesh on Thursday, November 1, 2001

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Throw this all away
07:31 p.m.
Snoo must have PMS. She's being a damn dirty little bitch! She crawls into my room, shakes her fleas off in my bed. Sits in my way and expects me to move. She bitches constantly at me. Just sits there and looks at me and growls. Christ. I must have pissed her off real bad cause I woke up last night and she was trying to puke on my head. I chased her off but I think she nailed my floor- and my floor nailed my foot so it's just as if she did puke on me. Yet she still sits there and bitches at me. Gar.
She's a teenager whos like…oh (math might come in handy here 7x9=what…63) She's a 63 year old teenager. She's actually closer to 70. We'll say 69. So she's a 69 year old bitchy teenager who always gets her way. She's exactly like me. She yells at my door, walks off in her extreme assholeness and I swear she calls me "mom." I recorded a conversation of ours the other day and it pretty much goes "Hey Pircey,"
"Fuck you bitch!"
"Pirce!"
"Goddamnit mother! This is my fucking room! *you* leave!"
It might sound like I'm even abusing her the way she talks, but no. She's just bitchy and I didn't touch her once. In the end she hits the microphone away and growls at me. I ended it there. Damn dirty cat. She needs to see the doctor too. Shes got itchy ears and a big old scab on her face. I think I need to de-flea her. Now she's trying to bite me. I must fend off my dying flesh. Farewell for now.

Current mood: Blotto
Current Song: Ungod - Stabbing Westward

The Gold Plated spork last feasted upon your flesh on Tuesday, October 30, 2001

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*sings godfather theme*
09:33 p.m.
I've actually "blogged out" all my thoughts in a private journal today and yesterday and then chased it down with a shot of terrible fanfiction. I ripped a page out of my book this afternoon, because I hated it. It was pointless, stupid angry chick shit. It's in a wad at the front of my door. I swore never to tear a page out but that needed to be removed. I now know why I don't attempt art.
In other news, I called Mel finally, figuring it was my turn. We talked, vaguely then she said to call back if I wanted to do something. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Most likely the latter because I had enough trouble calling her as it was. I was actually hoping for the chicken shit way out and getting her machine to leave her a phone message. Maybe so I could avoid actually talking when I had nothing to talk about. I kinda feel bad and all but something there kind of withered and died there over the years I think. Nobody's fault…people just change and think differently. I guess…she grew up, and I didn't. A lot like what happened with me and Amanda, I think, though different.
None of us put any effort into it anymore. I don't think any of us care a whole great deal- at least not openly. Sure maybe we think every once and awhile but do those thoughts lead to actions? Rarely. If we do manage to get together it's been so long since we've talked it's like were strangers, and really, we kind of are. I thought best friends were supposed to be forever, but I've seen through the years they're only temporary.
I've only got a few more pages in my purple book until I get to start in a fresh journal with my bad art and colorless words. But it's hardbound and has a nifty picture I drew of my Angel in it…that's probably my best sketch up to date… In a few years I'll wonder why the fuck I taped such a piece of shit into such a pretty little book, but you know, what can you do?
You know, it seems everyone has cancer nowadays. I know two people with terminal, and one pending. Everyone knows someone who's died of it or has contracted it- everything causes it. It usually seems to me that people are surviving fine with it too until they find out they have it and then they die. I wonder if you took two people with the exact same condition, and one didn't know, and the other did, who would die faster. I'd bet the person who knows.

Current Mood: ….gee.
Current song: Lucy in the sky with Diamonds - Beatles

The Gold Plated spork last feasted upon your flesh on Saturday, October 27, 2001

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I want you to want me
07:38 p.m.
GOD I FUCKING HATE STUPID, STUPID PEOPLE. Namely my fucking un-creative writing teacher. Chroist. I send her the format she wants, she bitches about it, gives me a "good format" which is ILLEGIBLE and has no fucking linebreaks. The format I sent had line breaks, and sure, maybe the grammar was a little off but at least I started a new fucking paragraph for each new speaker. SHIT! Not only that, she gnawed on my ass because I wrote 2200 some odd words, saying I wrote too much--700 words over or some shit when she said the assignment was to write between 1500-2500 words of a short story! I DID THAT!! GAHHH Unless my math skills are worse than I thought, 2200 is between the required.
And since I'm bitching and screaming I must also freak out over the whole title deal. Does it really, really matter if the title is in English? I mean, if you speak Japanese, it would make perfect sense. I hardly if ever put my titles in English. I like the way foreign stuff looks. If it was poetry it would be a totally different fucking matter since the title is generally part of the goddamn poem. But this isn't a poem it's a short story that apparently isn't short enough!!
This is the reason I am probably going to drop out of college just like the rest of my worthless family. My Dad is the only one that's made it through, other than my mothers mother who made it. I may as well say fuck it like my brothers. Other than their bad marriages they seem to be doing ok without the knowledge a gay ass community college has to give.
An internet class was a bad idea. I should have just waited for the creative writing to come to Juile's class. Julie is a good teacher. She keeps it interesting, makes it fun, and gives you a generally stress free work environment (until she tries to make you read your poetry in front of an audience at a coffee house or over the radio instead of taking a final) @_@. I dunno. Fuck it all. It's bullshit. A waste of money on a body like me anyhow.
[Omitted :)]

:) I'm starting to feel better now that I've blogged about this. Apologies to Ember as well for blasting your ear with my screaming. You know at this point I wouldn't be surprised if I got accused for ripping my story off some gay website called "Broken Quills" and failing the class. (Since I did post it there for the ease of my partner, who couldn't figure out how to work her e-mail-- which doesn't really work. Another thankful happy thing from the Community Colleges of Oregon.) GOD. This is the last place I ever wanted to be in my life.

Current Mood: rabid
Current Song: Wut Will Nicht Sterben - Puhdy's & Till Lindemann

The Gold Plated spork last feasted upon your flesh on Friday, October 26, 2001

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Gon eats and sleeps.
05:12 p.m.
The cancer ward / radiation area of a hospital isn't a very pleasant place to be. The secretary was a bitch. She's pretty much the most unpleasant thing actually. I wanted to kick her in the ass though. This one lady came out after her radiation and the woman was such a snatch! The lady was crying (for obvious reasons) and the secretary bitchilly handed her a box of Kleenex. The sick woman couldn't take it quick enough and so the lady pulled it out of the box and stuffed it in her hands and walked off, then pretty much ignored her while the lady asked for a pillow because the wheel chair was hurting her back. GOD I HATE MEAN PEOPLE LIKE THAT! Christ. You could tell such a difference when the nurse finally came in. She was at least polite and tried to listen to what the lady asked for.
Ok. On a much happier note, I went to the Japanese Import store today. Sadly, they didn't have my last Weiß Artbook *sniffle* but they did have the latest Angelic Layer in. I looked through their Manga…mmm sooooo much to chose from. I couldn't pick between Vampire Princess Miyu, this really really really pretty one, or something by Yuu Higui…so I kept looking and stumbled across "Gon". I like dinosaurs a *lot* and I first thought "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! Über Kawaii!!!! And then after a little more debating decided to go ahead and get that and two of the Angelic Layer Mangas. I opened up Gon first and I realized it had no dialogue. But--but-but-but after looking through it GAH!! It's soooooooo cute!! I am in love! *Hugs Gon* It is soo *oooo!* cute! I can't say anything else! He's this little dinosaur (As the opening line says (under the title). "Gon eats and sleeps." And that's all he does! XD It probably sounds stupid but it isn't it's soooooo pointlessly cute! GAHH!! I'm going to add a mini-shrine on my page tonight! GOD AUGH! *giggles* He's so cute! He drools and he bites things! *giggle* ok ok ok I stop. Just wait--- I plan to get the second volume next week :D
Angelic Layer was nice too…if only I knew more Japanese, I got the basic drift of it though. Gackt, and Gon, and ANGELIC FIGHT! Yaaaaay!

Current Mood: bubbly
Current Song: silence

The Gold Plated spork last feasted upon your flesh on Thursday, October 25, 2001

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The Bitch Strikes Again
10:06 p.m.
Don't you just *love* how microwaves heat everything unevenly? o_O

Current Mood: HUNGRY DAMNIT!
Current Song: You of all people should know I would never in my life wear black silk underwear!

The Gold Plated spork last feasted upon your flesh on Wednesday, October 24, 2001

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Summer Rain, somewhere and someday
10:26 p.m.
Standing in the rain in a sudden downpour is a refreshing thing to do. Expecially if you're sick, because then you risk the chance of catching pneumonia and dying before everyone else. It's funny, if you're a chick however, because you'll get what I will refer to as "boob circles" where the rain hits you. Men can get them too however, if a girl hugs them and they're dry. I think it's funny anyway…these…boob circles.
I feel sick, as Asuka would say, still. I'm really, really cold, my lips are chapped, my nose is running and I've had a constant headache for a few days now, and now I have a fever. Yay. Lack of sleep. Other medical problems. I don’t know. Doctors are hellbeasts and I'd refuse to see one even if I was dying. My last doctor was crazy, uhm….yeah…he killed his kids or some shit then committed suicide. A crazy fuck I do say. And then another doctor…didn't do shit for me. She gave me sleeping pills. Why? I don't know, I had a sore throat. I didn't take them. They made me sick, so I threw them away and kept the pretty bottle. I like medicine bottles. I'm cold.
Now I'm writing cheesy shit in my stupid little purple journal and drawing my muse, who is a plump little thing with cat teeth and a dead smiley on her undies. She's also my personal rendition of myself. >_< But cuter. :) The ENF is a pretty little elf bitch though. (see what I think of pretty people? Gotta love those jealous rages, though I'm not jealous because most of them are shallow, ooo lookie I'm blonde and have a plastic nose 3x rebuilt! But again, I'm being a dirty, bitchy snatch.
I hate having tits. I want to lop the oversized tumors off and sell them on Ebay with Ambers kidney stones. They get in the way, *punch* ouch. You bend over to reach the mouse and have a billion enter spaces or letters tracing across the middle of your document. You have to wear boulder-holders so they don't bounce around like vollyballs in a tournament. Goddamn things. I'm trying to be as vile as possible as to express my hatred for them. I'll sell them to you for an extremely low price of 50 cents if you really want them. I'll even pay shipping!
I'd better go before I freak you out anymore or spew all over this lovely silver keyboard…oh god, I hope I can get away in time.
Current Mood: Slightly better, bitchy, sick, and other such bullshit.
Current Song: Rainy Day Man - Sailor Moon ENGRISH version

The Gold Plated spork last feasted upon your flesh on Monday, October 22, 2001

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...And then she threw her pen {take two, scene omitted}
08:19 p.m.
Today has been fairly interesting. My headache has returned and once again, the rain is falling. I slept most of the morning because I stayed up till two, waking at odd hours with MP3s on my brain. -_-; Beeb came over in the afternoon and we attempted to make a horror movie but forgot to hit the record button. Went back and made a cheap cheesy cover to cover our cheap cheesy unrecorded bit. We thought it was funny, though it lacked the explanation of where "Bondage Barbie" came from. We'll try again soon.
Now I just "read" this weeks sociology stuff…I should probably skim my Anth stuff. God. I slacked off one week and it's really taken it's toll. I hate going. I don't know yet if I'm going to continue next term. It's all completely and absolutely pointless. But so is my sociology work. Goddamnit. The shit in that book enrages me. It makes me feel like trash reading all the shit about social classes. And it sound racist and pigheaded-- like the people of this country. Wow! I'd rather be working a fucking minimum wage job than wasting my money on bullshit "education" that doesn't do shit for me. My writing classes don’t' do much good for me- my poetry is Ok cause the people are nice and say nice things- but they say nice things to everyone. Expecially Sunny who Julie calls the "poet's friend" cause after every poem she exclaims "I like it!" It's kind of cute really.
But I'm not a poet.
Never have been. >_<
Never been much of a student either. I had potential back in oh…perhaps 5th grade but I think I lost everything around sixth grade. Especially in high school. Especially my senior year…I don't know how I did so well… I think it all started with Math. I fail math no matter how hard I try. It makes me so very depressed. It makes me cry I hate it so much. It makes me hit things too. That's one of my major qualms about college is that I'll have to take math. Also I'm going to have to move. I kinda like where I am and I don't want a roommate or a fuckin' dorm room. But-- Yea, Ashland sounds ok. I'll have to take like 5th grade math or something though since I have pretty much forgotten how to add.
I want to live with this tribe in South America (that where it was?) called the Yanomamo because they have the numbers "One" "Two" and "More than two". God…Doesn't that sound nice? It might make it kind of hard when collecting the series of anime DVDs though. But I could just be like "I need that one." Lol. Gawd I hate math. [OMIT PERSONAL THOUGHTS YOU CANT READ]
I should get off this computer and go back to building weird useless shit instead of collecting useless shit.

Current mood: Pissy
Current Song: Freiflug - Megaherz

The Gold Plated spork last feasted upon your flesh on Sunday, October 21, 2001

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This is for you, Bum.
11:46 p.m.
Slipping slowly into insanity. First it was the mix between reality and the dreams where I couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't but as I lay in bed last night I took the hint that I'm finally falling over the edge. I wasn't entirely awake, wasn't entirely asleep sorta teetering. Then I started hearing weird voices. A man and a woman. They were saying bizarre…things…that weren't good. Wondering why they wanted me to do the things they were suggesting I opened my eyes. Their voices stopped but then I heard another, sitting in the corner of my room singing. I'm not sure if he was singing in Japanese or in English, but I heard it so faintly . I checked my speakers and they were off, and I even sat up in bed and sat there quietly listening to him for a long time and then I ended up having to hide like a little kid cause he wouldn’t shut up.

The only logical explanation for my hallucinations is from my constant panic I was in yesterday- though I don't really think I was hallucinating.- is that I had listened to a song called '97 Bonnie and Clyde and it creeped the shit out of me and I don't usually get scared by things like music or movies. It wasn't the Eminem version mind you- it was the Tori Amos cover. Maybe I'll post it on Ich Will Eure Phatasie so you can understand where I'm coming from. It wasn't just me that was creeped out by it either- it was the majority of my poetry class where we first listened to it. None the less I don't know. I had a glomp of strange dreams as well, when I did sleep too. I also found out that I wasn't the only one that sat up in bed around two am last night either, bolt awake. It's all very strange really. I'm just kinda tweeking right now. And if Ember reads this- I wasn't trying to be like psycho the other night in the car- I kinda look back on the crazy shit I was saying yesterday and it's crazy so just ignore me. I was in one of my psychotic moods (if you can't tell by the rest of this blogrant) So don’t' let my psychosis scare you. Do you want candy littler girl? XD XD XD Well you can't have any! *eat eat eat*

Current Mood: Hungry
Current Song: Rem's song - Sound Life

The Gold Plated spork last feasted upon your flesh on Thursday, October 18, 2001

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This is Asche, Goddess of Nutkicking
Also known as "Saggy Nuts"
She enjoys writing, sporks, and beating up defenseless boys.
...and weapons.
She dislikes vegitables, people, and perverts.
She is owner of Broken Quills, and also parent to her disowned 56K: Stop the Hate website.
If you want to contact the bitch her email is ran@fujimiya.zzn.com and her ICQ is 15600254.
Try not to intimidate the monkey girl.