Monday, September 26, 2005

well as much as a riddicule people for thefacebook.com ; i find myself looking through it an awful lot more than i used to. its not that the people that i do know are addicting, its the people that i DONT know. on a level thats purely fantasy, its almost ... almost... exciting to look at people. i guess i never realized how bad it sounds to say something like that outloud. people use this website to keep track of their friends and such, but for me its like flipping through a copy of People or US magazine. i never realized how many attractive women there were, floating around that school, or how many populated friends in that area, how which ones decide to put up half naked pictures online.

i wonder. late at night, when i cant sleep. and im laying awake, looking into the darkness to find the ceiling... how is it other people see the world? what would it be like to frame the vision of a serial rapist? how would people look... how would thoughts and impulses flow... would it be like me? would it be different? would someone like that see a simple, harmless website like facebook, to be more like a catalog... something akin to a jc pennys book of women. fantasys on paper, not much unlike fall wardrobe. to look upon the blondes and the brunettes... see the smiles... imagine their laughter... the way they feel when you touch their skin.... the taste of the waxy balm on their lips... the tactile sensation of freshly painted nails... tossing curls of hair over your fingers in a mindless manner, while she hangs her head in adoration of your stroke... the radiance of her eyes, that permiates the darkness of your thoughts, pureifying the moment, while the idle touchings stimulate the mood in her iris, and leave it blazing... imagine a person who could become so real in your mind, just by pictures, that you act out on it. even if its fake. so what if its fucking fake. does that make it any less of a fantasy? does it become less convincing to the man that imagines it... that desires it... that stretches so far to touch, that even his thoughts of achieving it must be poisoned by a failure of truth? spoil his will, and he will rot from the inside- but nurture his his seed and it would overrun the garden... idle thoughts of things late at night. sometimes i wonder if thats someone like me, that i talk about.

at night, i think of things like that. what if im a serial killer, but havent realized it? i fit most of the projections for it.... white. late 20's to 40's. serial employment. horribly failed relationships with women. outsider views. idleness. and most damning of all... this ability to covet. ... what if i am the next person youll read about in the papers... if im that loon who eventually cant take it, and goes off to a shack, where he tries through his cries, to shape a fantasy with only a pool of desire, filled slowly by the tears of his pain. waves of anger, capped by the subtle musings he craves. that surge could rush, and i could be lost a drift in the madness of the ebb and flow of my own tidal anguish to secure the relationships in my head. things. money. women. all glibly mentioned-- but the urge to covet... to put upon a pedistal... that is the fear that holds me. a desire. a want. a need. to act out on it i suppose, just to touch more than glossy print. to feel the hairs, to rub the sweat from the skin. tips touching the tones of her complexion, lighting it to tingle. to have the salty taste of her sweat from the passion of lust with her.... and all the while... never removing myself from her eyes... the eyes which one could have gazed upon a thousand times, yet never seen. a glimpse of the man whom is captivated by her, that she never knew. the eyes widen with fear, or for me, is it with realization. ...... could that be me? my own thoughts imprison me in the darkness. and i flip the pillow to change them... to cool the tepid fever of my mind.

or if i could, would i be the type of saint among men. chiding away from the ill conceived conventions of life. things carnal, begat things troublesome and painful. if i could become the person that moved away from it all. that somehow, found a way... not to bury. but to bleach it. to shock it stark. pure. white. without flaw. the innocense ive lost, would it return? would it be like a linen cloth, on the hillside in the warm spring breeze? no matter. with a touch, and a thought. id still see the faint rings on it. stains from the human existence. from the wandering eye, the fretting mind, and the desire to touch. but gone are the clumps. smoothed are the threads, free of pricks and tangles. and let my newly washed soul, lead me to endeavors more achieveable, and less of the material. could i be the person that could wash and wear? that could walk in step. or am i just asking to be left out in the storm, and weathered once again?

god how my mind wanders at night.

Sunday, September 25, 2005


chiefly for mr. staab's enjoyment; this test is somewhat valid... i think the 'famous people' plot they put up has little to do with where we actually rank.... according to it, im due north of stalin and darth vader, yet west of ronald reagan, adam sandler and the unabomber. sigh. obviously the hamburgler, a ninja turtle, and a homeless person werent available for polling.


You are a

Social Conservative
(15% permissive)

and an...

Economic Conservative
(83% permissive)

You are best described as a:

Strong Republican




Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid