you’re the most colourful thing that I’ve seen

Well, my head is spinning a bit after last night. I normally don't like not remembering what happened, but I was just so damn happy that we nailed our presentation. I’ll be implementing a bit of damage control for the next hour or so.

I’ve started my job driving a box truck. It seems fun so far and it’s much better than sitting behind a desk.

Today is a beautiful day and I have no commitments. It’s been too long. I think I’ll walk over to the art store. There’s a particular artist who’s inspired me.

Moving onward with a new focus. Creation, destruction, etc.

i got dosed by you

The past few days I’ve been working on my front porch until I fall asleep. It’s been nice having the sun wake me up. I don’t think I’ve been regularly sleeping in a bed since late May.

Eight hours have been magically added to my timecard in the past pay period. Either they really wanted to get rid of their budget before the end of the fiscal year or they’ve mixed me up with someone else. What a mess.

We wrap up our case study tomorrow with a presentation. That should be interesting. I’m going to commit myself to drawing more after this. My grandiose contribution to the team was laying out a timeline for the implementation of our ideas. I had quite a bit of fun being creative with that. It makes up for my lackluster part of the presentation.

I’ve been told many times that the number one fear among people is public speaking and that the number two fear is dying. I don’t think I need to point out the oddity with this statistic. I suppose it goes hand in hand with how one of the greatest human needs is to belong. No one wants really wants to stand out from the crowd. Let alone, stand in front of a crowd. Nails poking up get hammered back in, etc.

What ashame.

we're clever but we're clueless

This is the first night I haven’t had to work at night since the beginning of summer. I almost hugged the guy when he told me their group was staying the night.

I was searching around and found something that really made me sad. Several of the clips there upset me, but I think this and this one did me in.

I’m not sure I really have a response to any of those clips. They reminded me most of cigarette ads targeted towards kids, before they made it illegal to target them. I just think that kids should be kids. They’re being put through a machine. Children are like giant sponges. They’ll soak up everything you tell them. The problem I see with camps like these is that these kids are most likely going to spend the rest of their lives trying to squeeze this shit out. When that girl went over to the woman at the bowling alley I thought, "well in a few years she won't be stuttering because she'll have pretty much memorized what she's been taught to say." It’s all so fucked.

This isn’t to say I don’t believe in god. It's just your own journey.

I’ve talked to a couple people who don’t think that they have enough noteworthy things to write down to attract people to their blogs. I don’t think I have that many people viewing this blog. I have no idea if that will change. What I have noticed, though, is that people who are really good at attracting readers are also really good at having a conversation. That is, part of post is in response to Colleen, and the other part is in response to Natalia. I’m just carrying on that conversation.

It doesn’t matter so much what you write about, it matters more that you’re adding to the conversation. Hugh MacLeod does a great job at this. If you look at his posts, most every single one will contain a hyperlink to someone else’s website with a comment or remark about it.

So, to people who don't think they have exciting things to keep people reading, I have a simple suggestion for you. Spend some time trying to find something totally fucking awesome to write about and hope that people will find it or join the conversation.

gravity wants to bring me down

I’ve found it much easier to write than work on my presentation. Imagine that.

I’m taking care of a woman’s lawn while she’s away for a couple months. The job isn’t so bad, but I seem to have troubles with her lawnmower. A few weeks ago it stopped accelerating on its own, so I had to push it around. I fixed this problem. It happened again. I fixed it again.

Just today I ran into a new problem. While I was mowing the lawn I heard a loud bang and the mower shut off completely. I figured I had run over something, so I turned it over to check it out. Oddly, though, I had not run over anything. Being an expert in lawnmower maintenance I checked the gas level and decided that it needed more. I filled up the gas and tried to start it up again.

It was at this moment that I noticed oil spilling out of the engine and where my expertise in lawnmower maintenance failed me. I looked at the manual and discovered that the oil was coming out of something called an air filter. Investigating a bit more, I screwed off a side panel and found that the oil, had indeed, spilled out of the engine and through an air filter. This is where I decided to put the mower back in the garage and go home. I told a mechanic and he laughed at me and told me that it would be more expensive to fix than to just buy a new one. No more lawn mower problems.

I am a fan of thought provoking questions.

I think if a large lump of money fell into my hands I would be very bewildered. Then I would probably buy an Ipod Shuffle. Go to a concert or two. Solve world hunger. That's about it. There are so many things I don’t need.

strawberry wine and smokes

I just read a fictitious article about the KKK Grand Master coming out of the closet. Ridiculous. A lawsuit is in progress. I never knew they had Grand Masters. I thought that was reserved for chess players. What a bizarre organization.

Lately I've been eating a lot of peanut butter. I now have a quick fix to breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks. I realize this isn’t the healthiest of addictions, but I rationalize it by walking places. My walking, unfortunately, does nothing to cushion the amount of peanut butter I eat.

I’ve started to dip into sketching again, and regretting not bringing my tablet back with me.

i guess it's all relative

I used to go on a lot of mission trips and help fix up people’s homes. Something about tearing down walls and nailing shingles down is really manly. It makes me want to go build something.

The people, whose houses we fixed up, were always so appreciative of us helping them. It was nice, to see how we impacted their lives. It was also nice, for someone to put a hammer in my hands and give me permission to let loose.

Love begets love. I think there’s a lot of truth in that statement.

Last year, some guy spilled a beer in my room and killed my laptop. I finally got in contact with him and he agreed to pay for half the price a new one, which was something like $400. Somewhere down the line he felt like he was being used and shorted me a hundred.

I wanted to break down every door in the city and beat the living hell out of him. It was so tempting. I almost hired a lawyer to win what would have been a very easy case. Instead I just thought about it and got more frustrated with the entire situation. Looking over the conversation we had, makes me angry again. At some point he told me to get a job if I needed the money. It was never about the money. Not really.

Hate begets hate. I think there’s a lot of truth in that statement.

In a way, life is just a reflection of yourself. That’s powerful stuff.

my mind it tends to run

It’s amazing how much faster work goes by if I’ve been drinking. I’ll have to do this more often.

I got around to playing with the helium tank that’s at the community center. When I was younger helium balloons were one of the most entertaining things in the world. Just about anything you say is absolutely hilarious because it’s 20 octaves higher.

After figuring out how to work the tank I directed the nozzle at my mouth and inhaled a good amount. It did absolutely nothing, so I inhaled for a little while more and then noticed a ‘non-flammable’ symbol on the side of the tank. It was oxygen.

I’m not sure how much fun a balloon is if it doesn't even float. For me, in particular, half the excitement came from trying to hold on to them before they flew away. I no longer have this problem.

I’ve been very close this summer to buying a bunch of large helium balloons and seeing how many it would take to lift me off the ground. There was someone with a similar idea who went up on his lawn chair with a six pack of beer, sandwiches, and a pellet gun (to shoot the balloons and descend). His plan was to float about 30 feet off the ground. Instead, his balloons shot him up 16,000 feet and he drifted near Long Beach Airport airspace before coming down in a residential area. As he was being arrested he said, "A man can't just sit around." Beautifully put.

My idea isn’t a whole lot different, except that I don’t have anything to shoot the balloons. It would be incredible, though, to travel around by balloons. Curious George does this.

if time was gold i'd be rich

All this studying is starting to get to me. It’s hard to believe that I’ll be leaving with a degree next spring.

If there’s one reason I don’t write on paper it’s because I scribble everything out and proofread as I go along. It’s so much cleaner. I guess I could just use pencil, but I usually find myself rubbing holes through the paper from erasing so much. It’s hard to capture your thoughts. The mind tends to run. Just try and remember any dreams you’ve had lately.

Whenever I think about the future I get very uncomfortable. I’m starting to feel the pressures of this very structured life I’ve led slowly dissapear, only to be replaced by another force residing much deeper within. Nothing about the future is certain. A year and a half ago I had no idea that I would transfer to Indiana University, one month ago I was worried about finding a summer job and now I have three, just today I broke my mop at work, etc.

So much effort is put into trying to predict what might happen tomorrow. I’m not saying that tomorrow isn’t important. I’m just saying that today is...

there is something i've been meaning to do

I took a study break to go kick a ball around earlier. Woodlawn field during the summer is absolutely dead. I could be out there for hours without anyone being on the actual field. It’s kind of nice. I miss the central quad from ISU. Random people would always come out and play kick ups in between classes. The quiet here is kind of nice, but only in small doses. I try and drown it out by playing music really loud.

Before going back to the house I picked up a well deserved burrito from Chipotle. On my way back I went through a park off of Kirkwood where a lot of locals hang out. I’m not sure if they’re homeless or not, but it’s usually the same folks in that area and they all seem to know each other. Anyway, one guy invited me to play hacky sack as I was walking by and I said no thanks. I remembered, though, that one reason I had gotten into soccer was through playing hacky sack. So I unzipped my duffel bag and me and this motley crew ended up playing kick ups for a good hour or so. Not a bad group. We ended up knocking over four drinks in the surrounding area and hit a few people. Not the best location, but it was still pretty fun. I think I’ll go back sometime later.

I wish I had a golf course that was in walking distance. I’m not much of a golfer, but it’s really nice to go out and walk around at night. There’s no lights hiding the stars and the fairways are wide enough to make you feel like you’re in the middle of nowhere. If you lie down on the middle of the green and look at the stars closely enough, I swear you can feel the world turning.

honey you sure are tough

Tonight I will be getting more than 4 hours of sleep. Rock on.

As an aside, Matt has introduced me to a solo album produced by Dustin Kensrue, the lead singer of Thrice. Great, great album. It’s got a folk edge. I guess I’m just in that kind of mood. Thrice, in contrast, does not have a folk edge. I was about to compliment Thrice while previewing their music in Itunes, and then I chose a song with screaming in it. Some of their material sounds okay though.

I participated in a psychology experiment earlier today on campus. This is my 5th one during the summer and by far the strangest. These two girls, Amber and Shaniqua (I'm not actually sure if it's Amber or not), explained the experiment to me and had me fill out a questionnaire. Standard business. Next they measured my head. It is normal sized. After all the measuring was done they marked my scalp and placed a cap on my head. The cap had about 40 electrodes on it and each had a long wire extending to a computer. Then they spent a good amount of time putting gel on my head with q-tips so that the electrodes got a good connection. The whole preparation was kind of strange. At one point Amber asked if I felt comfortable and I just started laughing. I felt like I was about to go on a space mission (which kind of excited me). Amber had seen Waking Life, which is a superb movie. I didn’t get to ask her much about what she though of it though.

After all the preparations were made Amber explained to me that I would hear sets of tones. There were only two tones (a high pitch and low pitch), and during the experiment I was to count how many times I heard a low pitch. I did a couple practice runs and then they put me in a nice chair, connected my cap thing to the chair, closed the door, and dimmed the lights. The experiment was to last 40 minutes. I fell asleep during part of it.

It was a horribly boring experiment, but I found ways to keep myself entertained. My mind wandered a lot and towards the end I was trying to send them secret messages telepathically through the electrodes. Somehow I don’t think it works like that, but it kept me awake.

Though the experiment and its goals were explained completely to me, I still have no idea what the point of it all was. Psychology is a funny science. I really enjoy it though because it’s generally applicable to real life. How people learn and think and behave plays an incredible role in how everyone interacts with each other. I just wish they didn’t have to put an electrode hat on me to figure everything out.

you are here!

I’m going to change up my style a bit. Reinvent the wheel and what not. We’ll see how it goes.

I’ve hit a creative rut again. The story of my life.

Being a custodian at the community center is kind of tiring. Now that camp has started, kids are in and out of the building every day. The job itself is kind of funny though. I’ll find the most random things lying around. Socks in the bathroom, half eaten sandwiches on the floor, underwear, swimsuits, etc. I have no idea how so much stuff could be forgotten. When I went in to clean one of the offices a note swung out from around the door handle that said “You are here!” in crayon. Summer has been kind of depressing thus far. I’m pretty sure I know why, but I haven't figured out the best way to fix it. That note made me laugh some.

Matt told me about an organization similar to the one Fred Phelps runs. It’s called A True Church and is run by a man named Darwin Fish. He does not think he should change his name because it wouldn’t honor his father or mother. Their organization believes that unless you take the Bible to heart and follow it completely, you will go to hell. This kind of bullshit pisses me off. Matt gave me their number and so I called Darwin Fish. I am pretty sure the number connected me to their house telephone and a woman answered:

“Hello?”
“Hi, I’m interested in hearing more about A True Church.”
“Just a second”
[Phone is put down and a man picks up, I presume it’s Darwin Fish
since their congregation only has 50 members and he’s the pastor]
“Hello?”
“Hi, I’m interested in hearing a little bit more about your organization.”
“Uh, well it’s pretty much on the web, do you have access to a computer?”
“No.”
“Uhh, how did you hear about us?”
“Through a friend.”
“And how did he hear about us?”
“On the internet, but he’s states away.”
“Well, I mean, you can go to a library or something and use the computers
there. Uh, what did you want to know?”
“Well, I guess I just wanted to know specifically what you believe.”
"Well, we condemn Christianity and believe that anyone who doesn't follow the bible is going to hell. Some people think they believe in the Bible, but they really don’t because they go against God’s Word everyday.”
[At this point I just decided to hang up before I said something rude]
“Ah, interesting…well thanks…”
“Uh, yep.”

There was a tiny bit more, but I don’t think it’s worth writing here. Apparently, his congregation of 50 and whatever small percentage of people actual take the Bible literally, will go to heaven. Unfortunately, Darwin Fish smoked pot in high school for a few months, and according to his church and scripture, will be going to hell for not treating his body like a temple.

If you’re interested in hearing their automated voice message system you can call 1-800-HOW-TRUE. Personally, I think you’ll just be wasting your time. It may make you laugh though.

It’s interesting that they put such faith in words alone. I asked him what Bible they used to draw scripture from, which coincidentally is basically the same Bible you’ll find in a church pew. The Bible was originally written in Hebrew, so I wonder how Darwin Fish would feel about all the things that might have been lost in translation. That’s pretty important to know if you’re basing your entire faith off of a book. I guess he found some scripture that talks about that too. What a sad organization.

I don't know what I would do if one of my children ever turned into the next Darwin Fish. How sad, that a being born out of such love should become so hateful.

(I don’t think there’s anything new about my style here. Oh well.)

we're a million miles away

Hugh MacLeod draws some interesting cartoons on the back of business cards at gapingvoid.com. Sometimes thought provoking, sometimes not, but this one stood out for me:

I think it speaks for itself.

Through about 16 years of school, I’m not sure I’ve ever been challenged to be a wolf. Some of the most useless information has been given to me. The times I have used information from the classroom and put it to use in real life are few and far between. This is my routine for tests:

Memorize, memorize, memorize, memorize, memorize, coffee, memorize, test, shit, shit, test, test, test, forget, forget, forget, etc.

And, excuse me, but it’s been working pretty damn well.

That’s beside the point.

Who the hell cares about the information?? If we valued the material we were learning, there wouldn’t be students emailing professors to recheck their test forms by hand. Not a lot of people care why they got it wrong, it’s just that they got it wrong. So long as you’ll never see it again, who cares? I certainly don’t.

When you’re paying $13,000 a semester to be a sponge, you’d damn well better come out with straight A’s. For a lot of people it’s just about the little piece of paper you get at the end of it all, and all the parties you went to in between tests just to forget. So fuck it.

That was also beside the point.

It pisses me off more than ever to think that I’ve just been herded around for the past 16 years. My academic career has not been molded around me. It’s been molded around a set path that I share with a thousand other students. Every person majoring in Computer Information Systems will have taken almost the same exact courses as me, with the exception of an elective here or there. How does anyone differentiate themselves when school’s creates commodities out of students?

I am not like rice.

i am folded, and unfolded, and unfolding

It’s been awhile since I’ve written anything. I don’t know why I have so much trouble doing something I genuinely enjoy.

I suppose I’m easily distracted. I wrote the previous sentences, decided I was thirsty, drank a glass of water, and checked my mail. Then I came back to my desk and sat and decided I was thirsty again, etc.

I’ll go so far as to say that most everyone is easily distracted. Whenever I talk to people during the school year, I’ll ask them what they’re up to. About half of the time, I’ll get a response that in some way revolves around putting off something. There’s some silent psychological barrier that exists in our minds, stopping us from doing what we actually should do.

The one thing I don’t like about writing is the process. I absolutely hate trying to figure out something worthwhile to write. The reason I love writing, though, is because when I’m done, I can go back and see this entire transformation that went on entirely in my head. I can almost pinpoint the exact location in the above paragraph where something clicked.

Only a small fraction of this entry comes purely from inspiration. The rest is a product of me sitting down and doing something that I really didn’t want to do.

I read earlier, that about 70% of people don’t know what their passion in life is. This statistic includes me. You would think that with college costing as much as it does, universities would tell students how to find their passion. I’m not sure it’s as simple as that though.

I have gone from wanting to major in architecture to art to marketing to computer information systems to operations management. I still have no clue what I want to do. From the majors I just listed, it looks like I enjoy creating things. Voila.

it's all understood

I’m taking some sociology course; Society and the Individual I think it’s called. Anyways, the instructor brought up an interesting question, asking why college students drink. I had no answer.

I started walking around last night. I go off in one direction and decide that I’ll never come back, but then the sidewalk ends and I have to start walking alongside a speedway and passing trucks hurt my ears so I turn around. That’s generally what I do when I get pissed. I figure it’s better than punching someone in the face, and I’ll have more friends in the long run. It’s working well. I’m not even sure why I was angry. A lot of little things perhaps, but I generally hold a lot in, so when it gets to be too much, I walk. Ten miles, in fact. I guess I was really pissed. Whenever this happens I think a lot and want to start writing. I bring a notebook with me to write, but I’m too pissed off to write, and by the time I’m done walking I’m much too tired to write anything down. It’s like a kid throwing a temper tantrum for an hour and then tiring himself out so much that he doesn’t even know what he was upset about.

One of the responses to the question, “Why do college students drink,” had to do with stereotypes. Everyone knows they exist and we apply them to people we meet. I don’t care what you say, you’ve stereotyped someone before. Blah blah blah. Whatever. When we were kids, or at least when I was a kid, I would always pretend I was a superhero. I role played myself as the stereotypical superhero. Now, being older, I no longer cast a superhero image to people I meet, but rather cast the image of a typical college student. Well tell me, what is the stereotypical college student? Could it be someone that parties a lot, drinks, and goes to class occasionally? Are the majority of college students drinking because they want to be stereotypical college students? Perhaps, but on an unconscious level because no one wants to admit that they need to belong. This is though, one of the greatest needs among individuals in society. The need to belong.

Well fuck. I think I’ll go back to being a superhero.

simum

top ten memories from the ilstu
(in no particular order)

• Waking up to find scattered beer cans, jungle juice cups, and a giant blow up alligator on the floor.
• Going to a private 21st birthday party for a girl we didn't know with Brittany and Jen.
• Camping through a tornado warning in Minnesota and then drinking from 9am till 4pm the next day while playing Frisbee in a Halloween costume.
• Finding Tommy outside of Stevenson bellowing "D. ROSEEEEEEEE" at two o'clock in the morning with a cup of jungle juice in hand.
• Getting invited to a fireworks display, only to stumble into a group prayer with Morelli and Neil completely drunk.
• Watching Tommy get a drinking ticket and then chasing after him with D. Rose as he begins to run after the cops yelling "Sir! I would like to request your badge number!"
• Buying 40 lbs of dry ice at a factory and spending the rest of the night playing with it.
• Watching Phil completely destroy our room on Sparks and Jager night.
• Any parties at the Frisbee house, less that one night I threw a piece of pizza at Jen's face.
• Watching Morelli moan by the front door as he tries to open it after a night of drinking.

honorable mentions

• Killing a bottle of Jager with Doobie on the first Tuesday of the semester. Bad choice.
• Dorm life in general
• Any Marie Dawson lecture with Lauer, Courtney, and D. Rose
• Jimmy's parties and the aftermath
• Late night chats with Mr. Tom Dechert and Morelli
• Going to Shoooooooooooop's amazing lectures and taking his six question open note & book tests.
• Winding up in a cornfield over two miles off campus.
• Falling off the top bunk in my sleep, rolling around in pain, and then passing out in Morelli's bed after he gets up to see if I'm alright. None of which I remember.
• Poetry sessions.
• Exposing myself during beer pong.
  
• On a scale of one to drunk, how drunk are you?
• Driving to Springfield at midnight to find a Sonic only to discover that it closes at 2am.
• Tunnel ball in the Batcave with Morelli and Neil
• Meeting a kid named Chad on the way to La Bambas with Courtney and Jen. Creepy.
• Excursions to nowhere in particular.
• Ruining all family meals in some way, shape, or form by playing with my food.

I'm sure there's more...

Halfway done with college. Time flies...

maktub

So I had an interesting thought the other day and I'm kind of sad that I didn't write it down.

Inspired after chats with Matt and a couple movies, I got to thinking. If you believe that someone created the universe (be it God, Allah, Brahman, Ha-Makom, or Curious George), and if you believe that this creator is responsible for all life in the universe, wouldn't we all just be manifestations of the original creator? Just as when we write, draw, or create, we make something which reflects our personalities. Similarly when we dream, the people that we encounter in our dream are all reflections of our self. If you want to take this a step further, assuming that there is a creator in the universe and he made human beings in his image, then we are all simply reflections of one another. If we are all made by the same hand, are we not all the same? In a physical sense we are very different, but everything which is in this world and out of it speaks one language because it has been created by one hand. Is there not some underlying force in this universe which mysteriously connects us all?
It's a comforting thought to me I guess, whether or not it's true is up for debate.

I have been trying lately to separate myself with thoughts about what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. This is a little scary and people might call this foolish or nearsighted, but I think right now I am happy in just being rather than thinking about what I will be. If that makes any sense at all. Hopefully it does.

In conclusion if you have read any of these posts and have not left an insightful comment, I will hunt you down because I am running out of things to write. Au revoir.

be here now

I can't keep my thoughts straight for two seconds. My mind moves too fast for me to capture my thoughts. I'll have to invest in something with a faster shutter speed. Hah. It's really frustrating when you feel inspired, to lose it all just seconds later. I'll compare it to winning an island (or anything of value, I like islands), and then some asshole coming along shortly after and dropping 13 tons of nuclear warheads on it. In my case though, since this is all taking place in my head, that asshole is me. This frustrates me even more because I should know better than to be so careless with 13 tons of nuclear warheads, especially while flying over my own damn island.

I saw this book the other day at Borders called Be Here Now, and it kind of intrigued me. I started flipping through it and saw it had this whole groovy, psychedelic undertone to it. Ram Dass, the author, presents it so that the words kind of jump out at you. Weird stuff. I don't think I'll buy it though, my favorite part of the book is the title anyways, and I can just write that down somewhere and read it whenever I want.

It's very hard not to think, and especially hard when you make a conscious act to not think because then you think about not thinking, and your mind starts to race with meaningless babble about nothing at all. Try it out. Just sort of sit, purposelessly, and clear your mind. It's really calming if you can do it, but I guess it takes practice. It's kind of an art.

I think I need to work on my transitions...

The Stonecutter

There was once a stonecutter, who was dissatisfied with himself and with his position in life.

One day, he passed a wealthy merchant's house, and through the open gateway, saw many fine possessions and important visitors. "How powerful that merchant must be!" thought the stonecutter. He became very envious, and wished that he could be like the merchant. Then he would no longer have to live the life of a mere stonecutter.

To his great surprise, he suddenly became the merchant, enjoying more luxuries and power than he had ever dreamed of, envied and detested by those less wealthy than himself. But soon a high official passed by, carried in a sedan chair, accompanied by attendants, and escorted by soldiers beating gongs. Everyone, no matter how wealthy, had to bow low before the procession. "How powerful that official is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be a high official!"

Then he became the high official, carried everywhere in his embroidered sedan chair, feared and hated by the people all around, who had to bow down before him as he passed. It was a hot summer day, and the official felt very uncomfortable in the sticky sedan chair. He looked up at the sun. It shone proudly in the sky, unaffected by his presence. "How powerful the sun is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be the sun!"

Then he became the sun, shining fiercely down on everyone, scorching the fields, cursed by the farmers and laborers. But a huge black cloud moved between him and the earth, so that his light could no longer shine on everything below. "How powerful that storm cloud is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be a cloud!"

Then he became the cloud, flooding the fields and villages, shouted at by everyone. But soon he found that he was being pushed away by some great force, and realized that it was the wind. "How powerful it is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be the wind!"

Then he became the wind, blowing tiles off the roofs of houses, uprooting trees, hated and feared by all below him. But after a while, he ran up against something that would not move, no matter how forcefully he blew against it—a huge, towering stone. "How powerful that stone is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be a stone!"

Then he became the stone, more powerful than anything else on earth. But as he stood there, he heard the sound of a hammer pounding a chisel into the solid rock, and felt himself being changed. "What could be more powerful than I, the stone?" he thought. He looked down and saw far below himself the figure of a stonecutter.

originally from Japanische Mährchen

the whole world's waking up

When thinking on a theoretical level, emotions are incredibly abstract. Who is to say that what I feel as love is the same as what someone else feels as love? I can only describe to someone what I think is love, and then that person, drawing from his or her own personal experience with that emotion, could disagree or agree. If I had been brought up with parents who constantly harassed me, but at the same time was told in school that parents love their children, would my first impression of love not be something linked to harassment? If God is an all loving being, but Christians murder and steal on a daily basis, could someone say that love is a negative emotion? Perhaps, but I would say this is uncommon. A person would instead, correlate God, Christians, and harassment with negative emotions rather than say love is negative.

There seems to be some common idea among human beings that love is something pure and good. Strangely, this is one thing that everyone can agree on. It is similar for other emotions as well. Sadness, joy, anger, shame, envy. These are all hardwired into our structures. Though we all have different experiences with emotions, everyone has similar definitions of them. How did they come about? At some point in the history of the world, was there a national convention of men and women that convened to discuss their emotions? That's doubtful. What is even more peculiar is that emotions connect people on a much deeper level than mere chit chat. When a friend says they are sad, generally you will feel sad also. In fact it doesn't even have to be a friend; perhaps I'm only speaking for myself, but if a complete stranger told me that he was sad I would most likely relate with his feeling of sadness, and pity him. If you believe this, it then becomes increasingly difficult to accept that we walk through life alone. Rather we are a community, a network of living, dynamic spirits that experience joy and sadness together on a collective level. There is something within us all that connects us on a much deeper realm, something unseen and wonderful that makes exchanges with each other much more meaningful.

I'm going to cut myself off. Perhaps I'll continue this thought later, comments are welcome...

cyber blips

I didn't write any of this but it's pretty awesome, read on...

Bloodninja: I lick your earlobe, and undo your watch.
Sarah19fca: mmmm, okay.
Bloodninja: I take yo pants off, grunting like a troll.
Sarah19fca: Yeah I like it rough.
Bloodninja: I smack you thick booty.
Sarah19fca: Oh yeah, that feels good.
Bloodninja: Smack, Smack, yeeeaahhh.
Bloodninja: I make some toast and eat it off your ass. Land O' Lakes butter all in your crack. Mmmm.
Sarah19fca: you like that?
Bloodninja: I peel some bananas.
Sarah19fca: Oh, what are you gonna do with those?
Bloodninja: get me peanuts. Peanuts from the ballpark.
Sarah19fca: Peanuts?
Bloodninja: Ken Griffey Jr. Yeaaaaahhh.
Sarah19fca: What are you talking about?
Bloodninja: I'm spent, I jump down into the alley and smoke a fatty. I throw rocks at the cats.
Sarah19fca: This is stupid.
Bloodninja: Stone Cold Steve Austin gives me some beer.
Bloodninja: Wanna Wrestle Stone Cold?
Bloodninja: Yeeaahhhh.
Sarah19fca: /ignore
Bloodninja: Its cool stone cold she was a bitch anyway.
Bloodninja: We get on harleys and ride into the sunset.


Bloodninja: Wanna cyber?
DirtyKate: K, but don't tell anybody ;-)
DirtyKate: Who are you?
Bloodninja: I've got blond hair, blue eyes, I work out a lot
Bloodninja: And I have a part time job delivering for Papa John's in my Geo Storm.
DirtyKate: You sound sexy.. I bet you want me in the back of your car..
Bloodninja: Maybe some other time. You should call up Papa John's and make an order
DirtyKate: Haha! OK
DirtyKate: Hello! I'd like an extra-EXTRA large pizza just dripping with sauce.
Bloodninja: Well, first they would say, "Hello, this is Papa John's, how may I help you", then they tell you the specials, and then you would make your order. So that's an X-Large. What toppings do you want?
DirtyKate: I want everything, baby!
Bloodninja: Is this a delivery?
DirtyKate: Umm...Yes
DirtyKate: So you're bringing the pizza to my house now? Cause I'm home alone... and I think I'll take a shower...
Bloodninja: Good. It will take about fifteen minutes to cook, and then I'll drive to your house.
**pause**
DirtyKate: I'm almost finished with my shower... Hurry up!
Bloodninja: You can't hurry good pizza.
Bloodninja: I'm on my way now though
**pause**
DirtyKate: So you're at my front door now.
Bloodninja: How did you know?
Bloodninja: I knock but you can't hear me cause you're in the shower. So I let myself in, and walk inside. I put the pizza down on your coffee table.
Bloodninja: Are you ready to get nasty, baby? I'm as hot as a pizza oven
DirtyKate: ooohh yeah. I step out of the shower and I'm all wet and cold. Warm me up baby
Bloodninja: So you're still in the bathroom?
DirtyKate: Yeah, I'm wrapping a towel around myself.
Bloodninja: I can no longer resist the pizza. I open the box and unzip my pants with my other hand. As I penetrate the gooey cheese, I moan in ecstacy. The mushrooms and Italian sausage are rough, but the sauce is deliciously soothing. I blow my load in seconds. As you leave the bathroom, I exit through the front door....
DirtyKate: What the fuck?
DirtyKate: You perverted piece of shit
DirtyKate: Fuck


Bloodninja: Wanna cyber?
MommyMelissa: Sure, you into vegetables?
Bloodninja: What like gardening an shit?
MommyMelissa: Yeah, something like that.
Bloodninja: Nuthin turns me on more, check this out
Bloodninja: You bend over to harvest your radishes. (pause)
MommyMelissa: is that it?
Bloodninja: You water your tomato patch.
Bloodninja: Are you ready for my fresh produce?
MommyMelissa: I was thinking of like, sexual acts INVOLVING vegetables... Can you make it a little more sexy for me?
(pause)
Bloodninja: I touch you on your lettuce, you massage my spinach... Sexily.
Bloodninja: I ride your buttocks, like they were amber waves of grains.
MommyMelissa: Grain doesn't really turn me on... I was thinking more along the lines of carrots and zucchinis.
Bloodninja: my zucchinis carresses your carrots.
Bloodninja: Damn baby your right, this shit is HOT.
MommyMelissa: ...
Bloodninja: My turnips listen for the soft cry of your love. My insides turn to celery as I unleash my warm and sticky cauliflower of love.
MommyMelissa: What the fuck is this madlibs? I'm outta here.
Bloodninja: Yah, well I already unleashed my cauliflower, all over your olives, and up in your eyes. Now you can't see. Bitch.
MommyMelissa: whatever.


bloodninja: Baby, I been havin a tough night so treat me nice aight?
BritneySpears14: Aight.
bloodninja: Slip out of those pants baby, yeah.
BritneySpears14: I slip out of my pants, just for you, bloodninja.
bloodninja: Oh yeah, aight. Aight, I put on my robe and wizard hat.
BritneySpears14: Oh, I like to play dress up.
bloodninja: Me too baby.
BritneySpears14: I kiss you softly on your chest.
bloodninja: I cast Lvl 3 Eroticism. You turn into a real beautiful woman.
BritneySpears14: Hey...
bloodninja: I meditate to regain my mana, before casting Lvl 8 Penis of the Infinite.
BritneySpears14: Funny I still don't see it.
bloodninja: I spend my mana reserves to cast Mighty of the Beyondness.
BritneySpears14: You are the worst cyber partner ever. This is ridiculous.
bloodninja: Don't fuck with me biznitch, I'm the mightiest sorcerer of the lands.
bloodninja: I steal yo soul and cast Lightning Lvl 1,000,000 Your body explodes into a fine bloody mist, because you are only a Lvl 2 Druid.
BritneySpears14: Don't ever message me again you piece.
bloodninja: Robots are trying to drill my brain but my lightning shield inflicts DOA attack, leaving the robots as flaming piles of metal.
bloodninja: King Arthur congratulates me for destroying Dr. Robotnik's evil army of Robot Socialist Republics. The cold war ends. Reagan steals my accomplishments and makes like it was cause of him.
bloodninja: You still there baby? I think it's getting hard now.
bloodninja: Baby?

bloodninja: Ok baby, we got to hurry, I don't know how long I can keep it ready for you.
j_gurli3: thats ok. ok i'm a japanese schoolgirl, what r u.
bloodninja: A Rhinocerus. Well, hung like one, thats for sure.
j_gurli3: haha, ok lets go.
j_gurli3: i put my hand through ur hair, and kiss u on the neck.
bloodninja: I stomp the ground, and snort, to alert you that you are in my breeding territory.
j_gurli3: haha, ok, u know that turns me on.
j_gurli3: i start unbuttoning ur shirt.
bloodninja: Rhinoceruses don't wear shirts.
j_gurli3: No, ur not really a Rhinocerus silly, it's just part of the game.
bloodninja: Rhinoceruses don't play games. They fucking charge your ass.
j_gurli3: stop, cmon be serious.
bloodninja: It doesn't get any more serious than a Rhinocerus about to charge your ass.
bloodninja: I stomp my feet, the dust stirs around my tough skinned feet.
j_gurli3: thats it.
bloodninja: Nostrils flaring, I lower my head. My horn, like some phallic symbol of my potent virility, is the last thing you see as skulls collide and mine remains the victor. You are now a bloody red ragdoll suspended in the air on my mighty horn.
bloodninja: Fuck am I hard now.

BritneySpears14: Ok, are you ready?
eminemBNJA: Aight, yeah I'm ready.
BritneySpears14: I like your music Em... Tee hee.
eminemBNJA: huh huh, yeah, I make it for the ladies.
BritneySpears14: Mmm, we like it a lot. Let me show you.
BritneySpears14: I take off your pants, slowly, and massage your muscular physique.
eminemBNJA: Oh I like that Baby. I put on my robe and wizard hat.
BritneySpears14: What the fuck, I told you not to message me again.
eminemBNJA:
BritneySpears14: I swear if you do it one more time I'm gonna report your ISP and say you were sending me kiddie porn you fuck up.
eminemBNJA: Oh
eminemBNJA: damn I gotta write down your names or something

sweet17: Hi
bloodninja: hello
bloodninja: who is this?
sweet17: just a someone?
bloodninja: A someone I know?
sweet17: nope
bloodninja: Then why the hell are you bothering me?
sweet17: well sorrrrrry
sweet17: I just wanted to chat with you
bloodninja: why?
sweet17: nevermind your an jerk
bloodninja: Hey wait a minute
sweet17: yes?
bloodninja: look I'm sorry. I'm just a little paranoid
sweet17: paranoid?
bloodninja: yes
sweet17: of what?
sweet17: me?
bloodninja: No. I'm in hiding.
sweet17: LOL
bloodninja: Don't fucking laugh at me!
bloodninja: This shit is serious!
sweet17: What are you hiding from?
bloodninja: The cops.
sweet17: gimme a fucking break
bloodninja: I'm serious.
sweet17: I don't get it
bloodninja: The cops are after me.
sweet17: For what?
bloodninja: I'm wanted in three states
sweet17: For???
bloodninja: It's kindof embarrasing.
bloodninja: I had sex with a turkey.
bloodninja: Hello?
sweet17: You are fucking sick.
bloodninja: Send me your picture.
sweet17: why?
bloodninja: so I know you aren't one of them.
sweet17: One of what?
bloodninja: The cops.
sweet17: I'm not a cop i told you
bloodninja: Then send me your picture.
sweet17: hold on
bloodninja: Hurry up.
bloodninja: Are you there?
bloodninja: Fuck you, cop!
sweet17: Hey sorry
sweet17: I had to do something for my mom.
bloodninja: I thought you were trying to find a picture to send to me.
bloodninja: When really you were notifying the authorities.
bloodninja: Weren't you!?
sweet17: thats not it
bloodninja: Then what?
sweet17: I don't want to send you the picture cause I'm not pretty
bloodninja: Most cops aren't
sweet17: IM NOT A FUCKING COP YOU SHITHEAD!
bloodninja: Then send me the picture.
sweet17: fine. What's your e-mail?
bloodninja: Just send it through here.
sweet17: alright *PIC*
sweet17: Did you get it?
bloodninja: Hold on. I'm looking.
sweet17: That was me back in may
sweet17: I've lost weight since then.
bloodninja: I hope so
sweet17: what?!?
sweet17: that hurt my feelings.
bloodninja: Did it?
sweet17: Yes. I'm not that much smaller than that now.
bloodninja: Will it make you feel better if I send you my picture?
sweet17: yes
bloodninja: Alright let me find it.
sweet17: kks
bloodninja: Okay here it is. *PIC*
sweet17: this isn't you.
bloodninja: I'll be damned if it ain't!
sweet17: You don't look like that.
bloodninja: How the hell do you know?
sweet17: cause your profile has another picture.
bloodninja: The profile pic is a fake.
bloodninja: I use it to hide from the cops.
sweet17: You look like the Farm Fresh guy lol
bloodninja: Well, you look like you ATE the Farm Fresh guy....
bloodninja: Not to mention all the groceries.
sweet17: Go fuck yourself
bloodninja: I was going to until I saw that picture
bloodninja: Now my unit won't get hard for a week.
sweet17: I shouldn't have sent you that picture.
sweet17: You've done nothing but slam me.
sweet17: you hurt me.
bloodninja: And calling me the Farm Fresh guy doesn't hurt me?
sweet17: I thought you were bullcrapping me!
bloodninja: Why would I do that?
sweet17: I can't believe that cops are after you
bloodninja: I can't believe Santa lets you sit on his lap..
sweet17: FUCK YOU!!!
bloodninja: You'd break both of his legs.
sweet17: You're a FUCKING ASSHOLE!
sweet17: I've been teased my whole life because of my weight
sweet17: and you make fun of me when you don't even know me
bloodninja: Ok. I'm sorry.
sweet17: No you aren't
bloodninja: You're right. I'm not.
bloodninja: HAARRRRR!
sweet17: I'm done with you
bloodninja: Aww. I'm sorry.
sweet17: I'm putting you on ignore
bloodninja: Wait a sec
bloodninja: We got off on the wrong foot.
bloodninja: Wanna start over?
sweet17: No
bloodninja: I'll eat your kitty
sweet17: You'll what?
bloodninja: You heard me.
bloodninja: I said I'd eat your kitty.
sweet17: I thought you said you couldn't get it hard after seeing my picture
bloodninja: Do I need a hard-on to eat your kitty?
sweet17: I'd like to know that the man eating me out is excited yes
bloodninja: Well I'm not like most men.
bloodninja: I get excited in different ways.
sweet17: Like what?
bloodninja: Do you really wanna know?
sweet17: I don't know
bloodninja: You have to tell me yes or no.
sweet17: I'm afraid to
bloodninja: Why?
sweet17: cause
bloodninja: cause why?
sweet17: well lets see
sweet17: you say you have sex with turkeys. You call me fat. then you wanna eat me out
sweet17: doesn't that seem strange to you?
bloodninja: Nope
sweet17: well its strange to me
bloodninja: Fine. I won't do it if you don't want me to
sweet17: I didn't say that
bloodninja: So is that a yes?
sweet17: I guess so.
bloodninja: Ok. I need your help getting excited though.
bloodninja: Are you willing?
sweet17: What do you need me to do?
bloodninja: I need you talk like a pirate.
sweet17: ???
bloodninja: When I start to go limp... you say "HARRRR!!!"
bloodninja: ok?
bloodninja: Hello?
sweet17: You can't be serious
bloodninja: Oh yes I am!
bloodninja: It's my fantasy.
sweet17: this is retarded
bloodninja: Do you want it or not?
sweet17: Yes I want it.
bloodninja: Then you'll do it for me?
sweet17: sure
bloodninja: Ok. Here we go.
bloodninja: I gently remove your panties and being to massage your thighs.
bloodninja: You get really juicy thinking about my tounge brushing up against them
bloodninja: I softly begin to tounge your wet kitty.
bloodninja: I run my tounge up and down your smooth clit.
sweet17: mmmm yeah
bloodninja: uh oh ...going limp.
sweet17: Har
bloodninja: You gotta do better than that!
bloodninja: Your picture was really bad.
sweet17: HARRRRRRRRRRRR
bloodninja: Ahhhh. Much better. I feel your kitty get more moist with every stroke.
bloodninja: I softly suck on your clit bringing it in and out of my mouth.
bloodninja: Your juices run down my chin as your scent makes its way to my nose.
bloodninja: I begin to feel empowered by your femininity.
sweet17: mmmmmm you are good
bloodninja: I feel your thighs tighten as I suck harder
bloodninja: going limp
sweet17: HARRRRRRR
bloodninja: Mmmm I grab your swelling buttocks in my hands.
bloodninja: You begin to sway back and forth.
bloodninja: going limp
sweet17: this is stupid
bloodninja: ...still limp
bloodninja: Do it!
sweet17: HARRRRRRRRRRRRR
bloodninja: I turn you around to lick your asshole.
bloodninja: I pry apart that battleship you call your ass.
bloodninja: I see poo nuggets hanging from the hair around your ass.
sweet17: WTF?!?!?
bloodninja: They stink really bad.
sweet17: OMG STOP!!!
bloodninja: I start to get fed up with your ugly ass
bloodninja: I tear off your wooden peg leg.
bloodninja: I ram it up your ass.
sweet17: YOURE A FUCKING PYSCHO!!
bloodninja: Then I pour hot carmel over your head.
bloodninja: And turn you into a fucking candy apple...
bloodninja: I kick you in the face!
sweet17: FUCK YOU ASSHOLE!!
bloodninja: The celluloid from your cheeks hits the side of the cabin...
bloodninja: Your parrot flys away.
bloodninja: ...going limp again.
bloodninja: Hello?
bloodninja: Say it!
bloodninja: HAARRRRRR!!!!!

Wellhung: Hello, Sweetheart. What do you look like?
Sweetheart: I am wearing a red silk blouse, a miniskirt and high heels. I work out every day, I'm toned and perfect. My measurements are 36-24-36. What do you look like?
Wellhung: I'm 6'3" and about 280 pounds.I wear glasses and I have on a pair of blue sweat pants I just bought from Walmart.I'm also wearing a T-shirt with a few spots of barbecue sauce on it from dinner...it smells funny.
Sweetheart: I want you.Would you like to screw me?
Wellhung: OK
Sweetheart: We're in my bedroom.There's soft music playing on the stereo and candles on my dresser and night table.I'm looking up into your eyes, smiling. My hand works its way down to your crotch and begins to fondle your huge, swelling bulge.
Wellhung: I'm gulping, I'm beginning to sweat.
Sweetheart: I'm pulling up your shirt and kissing your chest.
Wellhung: Now I'm unbuttoning your blouse.My hands are trembling.
Sweetheart: I'm moaning softly.
Wellhung: I'm taking hold of your blouse and sliding it off slowly.
Sweetheart: I'm throwing my head back in pleasure.The cool silk slides off my warm skin.I'm rubbing your bulge faster, pulling and rubbing.
Wellhung: My hand suddenly jerks spastically and accidentally rips a hole in your blouse. I'm sorry.
Sweetheart: That's OK, it wasn't really too expensive.
Wellhung: I'll pay for it.
Sweetheart: Don't worry about it.I'm wearing a lacy black bra. My soft breasts are rising and falling, as I breath harder and harder.
Wellhung: I'm fumbling with the clasp on your bra.I think it's stuck. Do you have any scissors?
Sweetheart: I take your hand and kiss it softly.I'm reaching back undoing the clasp. The bra slides off my body. The air caresses my breasts. My nipples are erect for you.
Wellhung: How did you do that? I'm picking up the bra and inspecting the clasp.
Sweetheart: I'm arching my back. Oh baby. I just want to feel your tongue all over me.
Wellhung: I'm dropping the bra. Now I'm licking your, you know, breasts. They're neat!
Sweetheart: I'm running my fingers through your hair. Now I'm nibbling your ear.
Wellhung: I suddenly sneeze. Your breasts are covered with spit and phlegm.
Sweetheart: What?
Wellhung: I'm so sorry. Really.
Sweetheart: I'm wiping your phlegm off my breasts with the remains of my blouse.
Wellhung: I'm taking the sopping wet blouse from you. I drop it with a plop.
Sweetheart: OK. I'm pulling your sweat pants down and rubbing your hard tool.
Wellhung: I'm screaming like a woman. Your hands are cold! Yeeee!
Sweetheart: I'm pulling up my miniskirt. Take off my panties.
Wellhung: I'm pulling off your panties. My tongue is going all over, in and out nibbling on you...umm... wait a minute.
Sweetheart: What's the matter?
Wellhung: I've got a pubic hair caught in my throat. I'm choking.
Sweetheart: Are you OK?
Wellhung: I'm having a coughing fit. I'm turning all red.
Sweetheart: Can I help?
Wellhung: I'm running to the kitchen, choking wildly. I'm fumbling through the cabinets, looking for a cup. Where do you keep your cups?
Sweetheart: In the cabinet to the right of the sink.
Wellhung: I'm drinking a cup of water. There, that's better.
Sweetheart: Come back to me, lover.
Wellhung: I'm washing the cup now.
Sweetheart: I'm on the bed arching for you.
Wellhung: I'm drying the cup. Now I'm putting it back in the cabinet. And now I'm walking back to the bedroom. Wait, it's dark, I'm lost. Where's the bedroom?
Sweetheart: Last door on the left at the end of the hall.
Wellhung: I found it.
Sweetheart: I'm tuggin' off your pants. I'm moaning. I want you so badly.
Wellhung: Me too.
Sweetheart: Your pants are off. I kiss you passionately-our naked bodies pressing each other.
Wellhung: Your face is pushing my glasses into my face. It hurts.
Sweetheart: Why don't you take off your glasses?
Wellhung: OK, but I can't see very well without them. I place the glasses on the night table.
Sweetheart: I'm bending over the bed. Give it to me, baby!
Wellhung: I have to pee. I'm fumbling my way blindly across the room and toward the bathroom.
Sweetheart: Hurry back, lover.
Wellhung: I find the bathroom and it's dark. I'm feeling around for the toilet. I lift the lid.
Sweetheart: I'm waiting eagerly for your return.
Wellhung: I'm done going. I'm feeling around for the flush handle, but I can't find it. Uh-oh!
Sweetheart: What's the matter now?
Wellhung: I've realized that I've peed into your laundry hamper. Sorry again. I'm walking back to the bedroom now, blindly feeling my way.
Sweetheart: Mmm, yes. Come on.
Wellhung: OK, now I'm going to put my...you know ...thing...in your...you know...woman's thing.
Sweetheart: Yes! Do it, baby! Do it!
Wellhung: I'm touching your smooth butt. It feels so nice. I kiss your neck. Umm, I'm having a little trouble here.
Sweetheart: I'm moving my ass back and forth, moaning. I can't stand it another second! Slide in! Screw me now!
Wellhung: I'm flaccid.
Sweetheart: What?
Wellhung: I'm limp. I can't sustain an erection.
Sweetheart: I'm standing up and turning around; an incredulous look on my face.
Wellhung: I'm shrugging with a sad look on my face, my weiner all floppy. I'm going to get my glasses and see what's wrong.
Sweetheart: No, never mind. I'm getting dressed. I'm putting on my underwear. Now I'm putting on my wet nasty blouse.
Wellhung: No wait! Now I'm squinting, trying to find the night table. I'm feeling along the dresser, knocking over cans of hair spray, picture frames and your candles.
Sweetheart: I'm buttoning my blouse. Now I'm putting on my shoes.
Wellhung: I've found my glasses. I'm putting them on. My God! One of our candles fell on the curtain. The curtain is on fire! I'm pointing at it, a shocked look on my face.
Sweetheart: Go to hell. I'm logging off, you loser!
Wellhung: Now the carpet is on fire! Oh noooo!
Sweetheart:

Partner6: So you're really a 18 yr old girl right?
J-Dogg: Yeah, J for Julie.
Partner6: So whats with the "Dogg"
J-Dogg: Uh, It's cause I'm into the latina gangs and shit. You know, rollin with tha homies and shit.
Partner6: Oh, uh ok thats cool. So you ever seen a gun?
J-Dogg: Yeah like I got 6 guns.
Partner6: Thats cool, so you wanna see my gun?
J-Dogg: hehe, of course baby.
Partner6: I pull off my pants and show you my "gun".
J-Dogg: Ohh, it's so big.
Partner6: Yeah, what you want to do?
J-Dogg: Umm, i guess stroke it or something.
Partner6: It likes that.
J-Dogg: aight.
Partner6: Keep talking to me baby...
J-Dogg: I kiss you on the mouth, hard, but then gently.
Partner6: Mmmm, daddy like.
J-Dogg: I unzip my pants...
Partner6: Yes, show me what you got.
J-Dogg: I pull out my schlong, and rub it on your breasts...
Partner6: WTF?!
J-Dogg: Oh shit, I meant, your schlong! your schlong!
Partner6: I've had it with you queers trying to cyber me, I only fuck women...
J-Dogg: Shit just don't shoot me man, I wasn't serious about the guns I have, I'm unarmed!
Partner6: You dipshit.
J-Dogg: I whimper to myself...
J-Dogg: please don't shoot me Mr.

J-Dogg: I see you in line at the supermarket. Our eyes meet.
Partner8: Who the fuck are you?
J-Dogg: I mouth the words to you, as if in slow motion:
J-Dogg: Fuck me, Fuck me.
J-Dogg: My wishes are like poetry in your eyes. We want this moment to last forever.
Partner8: OMFG are you trying to cyber me?
J-Dogg: We are like two dancers, for whom the music never stops. I Kiss the top of your hand. You are taken aback by the bulge that forms in your thigh.
Partner8: Is that like cancer?
J-Dogg: If cancer is our love, then I hope you don't have the technology of chemotherapy.
Partner8: Good one romeo.
J-Dogg: You grab the bulge that you feel. you tihink it must be taking over your mind, theres nothing else you can think of. My tubesteak to you is like a beautiful japanese haiku.
The salmon swim at night.
Towards your room.
The snow and the moon.
Partner8: that was never a haiku.
J-Dogg: To your light bulb I am the Thomas Edison of your sex. Withought my light you would be lost in a sea of darkness.
Partner8: That made even less sense than your "haiku"
J-Dogg: So you ready to fuck then?
Partner8: You unbutton my pants, spew your load at the sight of my underwear, and your spent.
J-Dogg: ...
Partner8: ?
J-Dogg: I'm spent.

J-dogg: Hey
QT-Pie: Hey
J-dogg: whats goin on
QT-Pie: Nothing. Who are you?
J-dogg: J-dogg. Wanna cyber?
QT-Pie: what does that mean?
J-dogg: what are you wearing?
QT-Pie: T-shirt. Jeans.
J-dogg: Garter belt?
QT-Pie: Ummm...no.
J-dogg:Are we gonna cyber or not?
QT-Pie: uh, okay.
J-dogg: Sweet, I start by rubbing your ass all around. You love this.
J-dogg: You're wet already. I can smell your pussy stink from here.
QT-Pie: WHAT?!
J-dogg: I execute standing position 12 from the Kama Sutra. Passion fills the room. Your head is close to the ceiling fan.
J-dogg: You leave everything to J-dogg.
J-dogg: I am completely inside of you. You are my dick puppet. I put on a little play.
QT-Pie: This is weird. I should go.
J-dogg: I drop you on the ground, and lay a stripe down your back.
QT-Pie: A stripe?
J-dogg: I need a sandwich.
QT-Pie: You're a freak.
J-dogg: I was great. You loved it.

J-Dogg: You there baby??
Partner2: Yeah I'm here.
J-Dogg: You ready?
Partner2: Okay.
J-Dogg: I take off my trenchcoat I'm nekked beneath, with pistols on my belt.
Partner2: Cowboy boots?
J-Dogg: WWI era trench issue boots.
Partner2: okay...
J-Dogg: Help me pull my boots off baby.
Partner2: Whats that smell?
J-Dogg: Rotting toes.
Partner2: Ummm...
J-Dogg: My boots pop off. My feet are black. The toes crumble off with the slightest touch. The dead black tissue that was once my skin chips off in large crispy flakes. A smell of death pervades the room. Gangrenous pus drips from the ends of the stumps where my toes were. I look deep in your eyes, and shove my tongue down your throat.
Partner2: ...
J-Dogg: You carress my ass, and trim my pubes...