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January 8th, 2001 - Revisionist Historian Extraordinaire! — LiveJournal [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Sean

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January 8th, 2001

(no subject) [Jan. 8th, 2001|10:46 am]
Sean
[Somedays I feel a little: |boredbored]
[Your mom ain't listening to |Rammstein - Sehnsuct]

i'm in a very fight clubesque mood this morning. i'm sitting here at school, waiting my usual 3 hours between psych and business that i wait every monday morning, finding the world at large to be a very lame duck. so i'm sitting here in our computer lab, trying to ignore the myriad of semi-silent conversations going on around me. or, as this moment is proving, not so silent. i think it's time to plug in the headphones and listen to a little music...

anyway, so i'm bored out of my mind. i hate mondays. there's never anything for me to do. true, i could spend the time getting some homework done or studying or something, but i hate trying to do that this early in the morning. its days like this that i wonder why i woke up this morning. c'est la vie...
Linkwhaddya think?

The intro to my new page i'm working on at H2G2.com [Jan. 8th, 2001|10:56 am]
Sean
[Somedays I feel a little: |boredbored]
[Your mom ain't listening to |Man That You Fear - Marilyn Manson]

And so it was written and so it shall be, mankind shall eventually be destroyed for the mere convenience of universal traffic control. And such has always been the way of mankind. Mankind lives merely at the whim of universal humor. Twere it up to the race itself or to some other celstial beings among our vast universe, the Earth would have been reduced to intergalactic space dust for some cruiser to have to wipe clear of their windshield eons ago (in hamster years of course...)

But here we are. Still alive, still procreating, still carrying on with our shallow, brief, pointless lives on a backwards planet at the far end of the spiral of the Milky Way galaxy, far from the sight of most space faring denizens. "Mostly Harmless" we are...running about with one eye on our digital watches, the other searching for more little pieces of green paper to trade for happiness. Humanity finds happiness in a faded green piece of paper (or whatever color it happens to be for the particular tribe that human is from) And eventually happiness fades, and life fades, and death overcomes. And the world keeps turning, and the universe continues on with it's trading and destruction of planets for traffic without anymore acknowledgement to Earth or its denizens than two words at the depths of a book about the Universe at large. "Mostly Harmless" What a pathetic race we are, humanity. What a hopelessly lost, backwards race we are...
Link1 thought|whaddya think?

(no subject) [Jan. 8th, 2001|11:25 am]
Sean
[Somedays I feel a little: |amusedamused]
[Your mom ain't listening to |See above]

i'd just like to mention that stephen lynch is a sick, sick monkey...but god he's funny! here's his song "a month dead"

i lie next to her in the bed
she's the kind of girl i'd like to wed
nevermind the fact that she's dead
it turns me on
it turns me on

sure, she's a little cold to the touch
but that doesn't bother me much
because the embalmment did such a lovely job

she's a month dead
and she's starting to smell
but if loving a corpse is a sin
::whispers:: i'll see you in hell

and now
i've got her propped up in a chair
she's losing her skin and her hair
and i wishing she wouldn't stare so much at me
so much at me

yeah, rigor mortis has taken it's toll
her body's as stiff as a pole
but i'll never put her back in the hole
i dug her from
i dug her from

she's a month dead
and she's starting to smell
but if loving a corpse is a sin
::whispers:: i'll see you in hell


Like I said, what a sick little man. But damn that's a funny song if you don't view it as being perverse and psychotic.

~Raven
Link3 thoughts|whaddya think?

(no subject) [Jan. 8th, 2001|01:46 pm]
Sean
they lie. football is not poetry in motion. driving is poetry in motion, traffic is poetry in motion. it is in a car that man becomes one with machine. while driving a car, you and the car are at one. weaving in and out of the lanes, staying at 5 under the speed limit in the far right lane, or punching it to 85 and zipping through traffic, all expressions of our inner personalities, our current attitudes, our emotive state at the time. it is the silent music of the world. sit one day and watch traffic move about along the highway. take note of how simplistic it is, with the occasional deviating driver weaving in and out of traffic like a bee in flowers. even in our technocracy, we still maintain our naturalistic tendencies, our animalistic qualities. the car becomes an extension of self; should injury befall your vehicle, injury will probably befall you. we feel every bump, every tread, every sinking feeling that the car experiences. every emotion we feel while driving is expressed through our driving. driving is merely one more form of expression in our world of vastly diminishing arts and philosophies.

Told you I'd have something prophetic sooner or later...i hope to expound more on this one later. :)

~Raven
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