Mr_N_Cognito

Hey I'm so glad you called me...

Tue, 08 May 2007 10:09:34 GMT

Here it is, the morning before my last exam. Two days left and then I'm gone. Shouldn't I prepare for this test? What would you do in my shoes?

You'd probably spend your time typing in a journal, or your days lounging on a tennis court, or your nights awake because you're afraid sleep could slow you down. Not you huh? Guess I got us mixed up again. Well then maybe you'd get drunk and rock out to the latest 90's craze, spending all your time with friends. Or perhaps you'll talk all night long and go to concerts by a band you never thought you'd see. Would you watch movies that you saw as a kid or ones about a sad spider? I'd like to know if you would eat at restaurants that look like a hole in the wall, or relax on a playground in the middle of nowhere. And could you remind me of all the times you swore you weren't this or that? No? Well maybe I'm just puzzled journal, school has that effect on me. As for me, what have I done? I honestly couldn't say, It's on the tip of my tongue but no words can come to mind.

D-"I think you're just jealous of the fedex man and his overnight delivery surprise"
T-"No, now the fedex woman is another story"
D-"She's old and skanky, the fedex man delivers all the babes"
T-"Inflatable ones"
D-"They're cheaper and store easy"
T-"Sounds like your type...cheap and easy"
D-"Cuts down on all that unnecessary talking"
T-"Except that you're the one doing the blowing"
D-"That's the price of true love"

The useful journal

Fri, 29 Dec 2006 21:05:36 GMT

Well, where do I begin, my electronic journal friend? The holidays have given me the perfect opportunity to slouch on my responsibilities. It's almost as if they never existed, which is a good thing because I hear few other things did either. It's fun to think that in just a few years, I'll be working at a high paying job and living the high life. Haha, just kidding future self, don't get your hopes up. So what's happened for half of the year that brought me where I am now? Well I'm glad I asked because I'd like to know the answer too. It's actually a simple answer, just as usual everything went entirely as planned. Life couldn't be smoother and I have absolutely nothing to worry about ever. I'm glad I could share this big secret with you journal.

I've been working this holiday season, which reminds me how important everything I do is. Not that I need to be reminded of course. But without me an entire economy would collapse on itself, that is until they easily found a replacement for me or simply shifted around hours. But that's the kind of security that few people get the opportunity of having. Put simply, I know for a fact that if no one else on earth existed, no body would be able to fill my job, however with no one else on earth I wouldn't have a job either. This job represents a link to the past, that I am happy to tell you all about. But let's skip the boring part and go straight to this stupid boring story.

Did I finish my work? Ah, the hell with it, no time to worry about that now. Just gotta get back to the room. A little bit more pedaling, piece of shit legs you're not trying hard enough. PUSH! That's better, just have to keep going a little farther. (CRACK!) How the? The gears stripped clean off! How did I manage to do that? Was I angry? I guess so, but then again, I had reason to be. Sorry, I tried too hard and broke your limit. Wish I could say it wouldn't happen to the others...

"Why didn't you want her to ride your horse?"

"He's complicated. And with a complicated horse when you try to go too fast you end up laying on your back with a hoof print in your side."

Drunk

Sat, 09 Dec 2006 06:38:28 GMT

Hey I'm drunk, is my un-drunk self a complete ass about what he puts in the journal? This should show him. Oh yea also it's almost christmas and stuff.

Trusting enough to believe lies...

A passing...

Tue, 28 Nov 2006 02:23:36 GMT

It's been a while journal, but I'm sure it's not without good reason. When did I update you last, August? Ah yes, now I remember. But what should I write to you now? I don't have any words for you or if I do they're hidden. This time write it for me. I'll help you along the way, I'll even give you a start...

This story begins where our brave hero left off. Not too timely, not too perfect. The college semester branched off to an exciting start, anything could happen and did...[Finish the story, if you know the words]

As if it never happened...

It'll be over soon

Sun, 20 Aug 2006 09:02:27 GMT

The past few entries have been sort of short and most certainly uninteresting. But is it all building to something? What is the point of the whole story? Where do you really put a conclusion, does it have to be the end? My life has continued pretty much as usual so the obvious answer is no. If nothing ever changes the story can't possibly have any real culmination point. So then journal what have I been doing...

Working in projection has its benefits, watching movies at ungodly hours occupied an obscene amount of my oh so precious time. I ended up spending a decent part of my life hanging around a building that should be the one object I focus my hatred on the most. In my spare time, I'm hardly productive out of choice. It's a subconscious choice. Myrtle Beach was an interesting break away from my routine. Though all my sister did was complain the whole time. I managed to tan myself a bit and relax. Now I'm at college again, so it's back to the old routine, the one I've been avoiding for such a long time. This journal won't particularly add anything new to the story, it's just filler. It adds no real new characters and is filled with trite dialog. But it's ok, the story was never what I put in the journal anyway...

"What did you just say?" -Noblet
"What did you hear?" -Jerri
"I'm not sure." -Noblet
"Then I guess we'll never know." -Jerri

A Lighter Note

Wed, 26 Jul 2006 05:49:28 GMT

Few things made less sense, but under the circumstances his burns didn't hurt so bad. There was no reason to do it, he'd gone over it a hundred times and all he saw were downsides. But perhaps he was wrong all those times, perhaps there was more to see than being at the bottom would let him. Climbing into the compartment, he and his comrade were launched into the heavens only to come crashing down moments later. The spirit of redemption caught them at the right time, reminding them that some beings are meant to keep their feet on the ground. But they didn't regret the danger, after all it was still fun...

The power of the bouncing green offset the damage that the idiotic interstate driver wrecked on my nervous system. Swerving back onto the entrance ramp to avoid a guy going 40 over while talking on a cellphone is not cool. What an asshole.

And then it just ran out of tracks...

Sabbatical

Sun, 23 Jul 2006 21:50:41 GMT

Starting today I'll be heading off on a three day escape from all my earthly troubles. They say that history repeats itself, and what better way to prove that then by repeating my yearly regimen of vacational fun and relaxation. I don't know how I'll possibly be able to survive without my journal for 3 days but I'll do my best.

Ironically, in the midst of writing this, unforeseen consequences took the wheel of my destiny and steered me from the course of my trip. And as a result, I'll be taking a one day vacation instead. To a smaller and more local amusement park. A chilly gust to douse the searing hot cauterization of my youthful escapades, thanks to the care of the winds.

I wasn't even supposed to be here today...

Contradict the fact

Thu, 20 Jul 2006 08:37:58 GMT

Well many things have happened this summer, that's for sure. I've made a lot of discoveries and my journeys of youthful vigor have finally come to an end. My teenage life felt the final nail being driven into it's coffin as it succumbed to another one of my numerous birthdays. My birthday party was a blast, it involved sitting and doing things in tandem. A unique experience that I suggest everyone indulge themselves in at sometime.

My life and work has gone by without a hitch. It's almost as if my life has been perfectly laid out before me and all I have to do is transist from one day to the next unbeknownst of the consequences of my decisions. And just as luck would have it, my life is planned out for me. As it turns out I'm either unfit or incapable of making choices for myself. So naturally it's perfectly reasonable for other people to do this for me. And it's about time, finally I can be liberated from the unbearable throws of oppressive life-undermining freedom. Decisions take all the fun out of life, it's the same reason people want to see predictable movies. How can I possibly enjoy something that I'm required to react to or think about? So I get to enjoy my perfect life, where I stand nothing to lose and all it costs me is nothing to gain.

He's getting married? I thought he was gay!

Once there was this kid who...

Fri, 30 Jun 2006 07:50:24 GMT

So journal, it has been so long since I've payed you proper attention. I'm sure you know more than anyone that my life goes by so fast. What can I say though? My time is in high demand. Do you realize some places will pay me just over $5 an hour for my time? That's how important my life is and I'm glad I get to share it with you.

As time passes its arrival is getting pretty close. I won't tell you exactly what's about to happen because I don't want to spoil the mystery, but let's just say it involves explosions.

Well this summer sure is a blast. It's turning out to be everything I'd hoped it'd be, and isn't. The guild that I'm ever so fortunate to be a member of(and co-founder) is growing ever strong, with a team of dedicated players and tacticians and one really lazy player. Oh wait, that last one is me. But being part of a guild means more that just a group of friends to play games with. It means making important decisions about unimportant things that could cause real consequences resulting from a fake game world. In essence it's the chinese finger trap of gaming, its a fun way to socialize but if you pull too hard the rest of the world will think you're an idiot.

But my life isn't just about my obsessions. It's also about the diligent work that I apply in the real world. (That part, however, isn't particularly interesting so I won't be writing about it)

People sure can be interesting. You being a journal couldn't understand that because journals don't have opinions or feelings. Well at the very least you don't. I sometimes feel like grasping onto your thick leather bound pages, only to realize that you're an even more heartless, machine journal. Well that's enough of my ranting so I hope you enjoying the electronic stimulation.

"I brushed my teeth this morning."

"I'm guessing that's an accomplishment? Congratulations, maybe tomorrow you can wake up and brush your teeth again."

Oh my God it's set for now...

Sat, 03 Jun 2006 23:38:51 GMT

Hello dramatic irony, how's your summer been going? Well mine, for one, has been a blast. I can't think of a single thing that's gone wrong this summer so far, but I sure can name all kinds of super cool things that have happened.

First off I went to an anime convention, which was strange and fun. I thought about the implications of posting the fact that I went to an anime convention, and realized that anyone who reads this is worse off anyway. I'd say that the whole experience bordered on surreal since at any moment I could have been killed by rabid fans of particular shows that I may or may not have liked. But the con had a lot of deeper meanings too. There it didn't matter if you were fat, ugly, stupid, or repulsive because anyone can be their favorite character with the all too revealing clothing. I learned that true friendship is really measured by how far you'll drive to take them to Arby's. And that even when you're down you can still look up the short, short skirts of those above you. That's a future I'm glad to say I could take a part in (and have). But not all worlds are picturesque and perfect. (I won't mention the group meetings that took place that night between some of the con's members.) When you get down to it though, it's not about seeing in black or white or even lighter shades of grey because all I see when I open my eyes to something new is an amazing technicolor dreamcoat.

Also I'm starting to play several new tabletop wargames. Axis and Allies which allows me to live out my fantasy of killing off certain people's grandfathers so they'll never be born. Thousands of soldiers duking it out in massive battle that all end on the roll of a die, and epic resource wars fueled by a lackadaisical defense of Brazil. The other game is Mordheim which caters towards my want to build armies comprised of Nazis and religious figures, put them into a fantasy world, and watch them suffer the consequences of my horrible painting skills. You might be thinking to yourself "hey I'm a loser who likes games like that and Mordheim is about dice rolls too!" and you'd be half right. But Mordheim isn't about the dice rolls, it's about bending rules. Whoever changes the rules the most doesn't have to worry about rolls. Because what are rules really, if not harsh limits on our ingenuity?

On a more seriously lighthearted note, I've started to work "upstairs". It's a whole different style of play up there with unique benefits and downsides. Though I may never reap the harvest of fruit borne of my undying labor, I can safely say that's it's probably worth it.

It was equivalent exchange, fifty pounds of steak for fifty pounds.

In Tandem

Sun, 14 May 2006 06:39:43 GMT

WAR:

Today amid various peace talks and an unprecedented visitation by top delegates and foreign ambassadors, enemy battle-groups from the outlands entered Imperial space destroying two main detachments of the Imperial fleet. Imperial Captain Vilmante stated optimism is repelling the invaders. "We've already established a protective perimeter around Imperial worlds and considering our remaining contingent along with the expected reinforcements from the central fleet our position is more than favorable." Vilmante went on to conclude that...

(2 days later)
INVASION:

Heavy fighting is taking place across our home-planet Merism, the status of other nearby systems is unknown at this time but ground commanders ensure our worlds will not be taken without a prolonged fight. During this time, relief forces should arrive to assist in mopping up the rest of hostile forces. Citizens are urged to find safety and remain calm. AVOID INCOMING DROPSHIPS AT ALL COSTS. Imperial lives are more important then attempts to view the "action" up close. Check with your local police force for directions to nearby evacuation ships...

(15 hours later)

"This is Commander Otaru of Merism ground defense. All citizens are strongly advised to reach their nearest evacuation point immediately. Our forces will hold the main city squares and evac zones for as long as we can but we can't guarantee anyone's safety if they don't evac within the next hour. Communication to central has been cut off, do not expect reinforcements. Captain Vilmante's cruiser and what's left of our fleet will protect the evac ship routes as best they can. Remain calm and vigilan--[interruption] "...holy shit do you see the size of those things! They're breaking through the barrier!" (gunfire)----

You gave all of us a chance, well except that one guy...

I'm the one talking to Daniel.

Sat, 15 Apr 2006 09:49:00 GMT

Numbers play an important role in most games, as is true of real life. Nine is the precursor to ten, ten will bring it all into perspective. In this entry several stories will be told, one that is very much real and one that is very much relatively false. But asking where it all ends is meaningless without some sense of a middle but nine, as it would turn out, holds the key as a divisor. It's the only other journal number so far that is a perfect square other than...

Hey journal, what's up? It's a shame you can't respond since you're an inanimate journal, but I've had an interesting past week. You see, a long time ago (2 years), I didn't go to my senior prom. Was I upset? Not really, but to make up for it anyway, I went this year. Turns out it was a blast and I had tons of fun. It started out like most situations where I have no idea what I'm doing, but then again how much does that account for? Our caravan consisted of several vehicles heading towards our place of eating. The lead car, a sleek, fashionable honda civic, was driven by a not so navigation savvy driver. Me. But despite my efforts to accidentally try to turn the wrong way, we made it. And it's a good thing, because the food was excellent. It's seems like no one is good at time judgment though, because we ended up being done early and found ourselves wondering around a mall in formal wear. Depending on the situation, it can be nearly impossible to not spend money at a mall. The easter bunny preyed upon our weaknesses but we escaped, tumbling into trap after trap that the mall had laid for us. Divided, we roamed the mall as onlookers gawked at what seemed to be our oddly perceived sense of fashion. The prom itself, was great fun too. While there...[gossip censor activated]...and that's all the juicy info about what happened there and afterward.

I continue to be a startling inspiration for myself. My accomplishments serve as a constant reminder to me that even miserable failures can succeed. From this perspective I'm lucky to be so unfortunate, because if I wasn't unfortunate I'd never really know how lucky I was, which would be a case of really bad luck. The fortune cookie said that "All my hard work would soon pay off.". I knew that meant I should invest all my money in the lottery using the lucky numbers on the back. And it turned out fate was right, because I won $2. That doesn't just make me a lottery winner, it makes me food for the plethora of loan sharks eager to collect the looming bounty on my head. Java turned out not so well, but that's ok because the only thing riding on that is my future. My future-self is an asshole anyway, so I do my best to screw him over in the present. And I'm particularly angry at my past-self who keeps screwing me over for no reason. It's a shame that Flagler is such a long way away. So here I sit way past my bedtime catering a story to an audience who doesn't exist. So come join me, won't you audience? For a night on the town, I'll supply the drinks. Though please do be responsible, I'd hate to hear my imagination got too wild. But enough about me, tell me a little bit about yourself.

"Why do something now when I can make his life a living hell?" -Varnes

Spring smells like shit.

Thu, 30 Mar 2006 04:10:16 GMT

As the flowers blossom and sun-rays gleam off freshly set dew, a crisp sharp aroma percolates through the windy outdoors air. That's right, nothing reminds me of spring time better than manure and compost dumped onto campus to help feed plants their wretched nutrients. Eight covers a realm of vivid realism much to the contrary of its half four. And as luck would have it eight truly starts the story before thrusting you into the void of climax. But what is a story without characters...

Waking up from a tumultuous sleep, he was always a bit late. Never quite capable of getting anywhere until anything had already begun. Time has it's way of catching up to those that sleep on the job and that hour he had wasted was for a good cause he ensured himself as he sprung into action. Being late on its own was a curse, being able to talk your way out of it was a talent. Unfortunately he was both very cursed and very untalented. The strange thing with time though is that unlike others, it cannot be bartered with through any amount of haggling. But time won't lie either and with that in mind our late friend rushed just in time to be greeted by their blades. A quick service in general but dreadfully long in his case. With the proper people informed and the right goods packed he was settled on beginning his trek. One much like others he had taken except tailed by a heavy burden of insistence. His mind, much to his disappointment, was plodding through numbers checking to see if within any reason four should be like one through three...

There are other characters to this story, but as I understand it their stories are merely a click away.

Where is Daniel?

It's funnier when I'm being facetious.

Thu, 12 Jan 2006 05:57:07 GMT

School is back in session. So as the daily grind erodes what little life essence I have left, I find it necessary to grip onto fond old memories and etch another set of instances from my life into this journal. With the passing of the sanctimonious syx comes a verile and cocky number seven. But don't let the numbers fool you this time around, treachery is abound and without proper guile you may find yourself in dire straits. Without to much ado about nothing let's begin journal lucky number seven...

How's it going journal? You won't believe how much you've missed out on over the past few weeks. We finally had another "lan party" and while I may not understand exactly what that is, since I wasn't the host this time, the part I do know is that I've uploaded the final pictures from it from my camera. If anyone actually cares about these pictures, they can be seen here. But my life isn't all about the parties, it also involves the hard work and dedication that comes with school. It's been a whole three days of school and I already feel safe enough to say, I'm bored. If only I had some sort of imagination or creativity...

I don't know what kind of story to write next, so I'm letting the reader decide. That's right, I'm letting one of the only person who comments the choice of what I write. In the odd event that several people comment with ideas, I reserve the right to pick the best one. But in the more likely coincidence that no one comments, I reserve the right to cry.

"I wanna see those two mosh pits collide!" - excerpt from the Battle of Taproot

I'd hate to see what happened to the other guy...

Wed, 09 Nov 2005 05:03:25 GMT

Taking the time away from my busy schedule of pretending to have things to do, I've decided to write entry five. There is nothing special about it though, oh except for the fact that I'll just be throwing in any old random thing. Because what would a journal be if you could understand it or it had some meaning? That's right, racist, and we won't tolerate that here. So this won't be a change in pace from the usual but it will be an outright mockery. Here ends the reading:

(It's here that you first learn that the journal is actually a metaphor for a journal that would exist if I ever felt the need to write one. In some interpretations it may also represent Jesus because of the vague and completely unwarranted reference in this sentence.) Dear Journal, I hate the person that hurt my beautiful face, but most of all I hate everyone for no reason. The scar may never heal. And I can picture myself years from now imagining what it would be like to tell the story of my scar to someone. But that's a story that should have been told weeks ago and I'm far to lazy to correct that mistake.

If dust ever had a dangerous incarnation, it would have to be as a dust bunny. A killer dust bunny. Only suited for the bowels of hell where the dirt devil reigns supreme. They'd been hiding and waiting for their chance to strike. But life had a quick way of turning things around on them. Cleanup is easier when they don't see it coming. And that night they had no chance to run, the dust busters hunted them down and disposed of them. Which isn't all too surprising since dust is made of mite feces.

Once it was said by a quite possibly insane professor, that there was a way to test if people were mentally insane. The task was to randomly pick out 100 numbers on the spot. A normal person would have some sort of pattern in their numbers. But someone suffering from multiple personalities could very well pick out numbers with no connection. Five is half-way to ten, which could very well be an epic climax.

Driving down the road, he had never seen a more fierce or vicious railroad sign...

And that's when the Cowboy showed up in the pickup to give us advice on marriage...

Sat, 15 Oct 2005 09:18:24 GMT

Four being my favorite number holds a special meaning in my heart. And so I think it's only appropriate to have the fourth step to journal making involve secret messages. A journal has to have a secret and symbolic meaning with some sort of underlying goal. For example a sequence of journal entries with the pretense of being a guideline to writing a journal. But writing secret messages isn't fun all by itself, so what better way to introduce it then a complete fabrication of the truth. So it begins:

The sun gleamed off the side of the cruiser, few operations of this scale had been launched so deep into enemy space. The fleet was cleared to strike at the home-world in hopes of ending the war once and for all. Captain Cognito, aboard this vessel had been ordered to pick up an elite detachment of fighters, the 157th, led by Wing Commander Cool. The fighter wing's call-sign was the "vase lines" and they were running standard garrison duty in the Kerns system.

"Open the hangar bays so docking can commence, we need to make this a smooth operation" the captain announced.

The plan was simple the main fleet would engage the home-world first softening the defenses so that the cruiser would be able to move in close enough to launch landing craft. The vase lines would slide right in and detain enemy fighters as the two tin cans that they call drop-ships landed on the home planet. The drop-ships were loaded with the alliance's best trained marines, often called tomatoes by other servicemen because of their blood red armor. Once on the ground the marines, under the command of Major Campbell, should be able to knock out the planetary defense guns so the main fleet could get in range for bombardment. Unfortunately plans can quickly go sour...

"Captain we just exited hyper--" BLAM. The cruiser was greeted by a barrage of cannon fire.

"LAUNCH ALL FIGHTER SQUADRONS" the captain yelled. Tracer rounds cascaded across the shield barrier, and tore through fighters as they exited the hangar. "Where is our damn support? Where is the main fleet?"

A technical error on timing had left the cruiser alone in hostile space. Battleships that eclipsed the systems suns began to line up to destroy the lone cruiser.

With no hope of winning the battle, the fighters would have to buy the cruiser enough time for it's hyperspace engines to recharge. The shear force of the enemies' concentrated fire disintegrated many of the fighters before they had a chance. Even the vase lines weren't use to this sort of friction. Every second longer, the capital ships sped menacingly closer...

"The engines are charged, return to the ship before we're all blasted into space-dust!" Commander Cool said with a bitter tone of apathy.

Docking finished, the drives began to start up. Too late, SLAM, a huge shell stripped off the main port battery sending debris careening through space. KAPOW, the second shell went too high, missing, the shock-wave never even hit the cruiser as it completed it's jump...

He turned all the way around, not that he's ashamed about it...

We begged him to not kick that bottle in the water...

Mon, 03 Oct 2005 08:05:21 GMT

Taking a giant leap into the future requires the third step in making a journal. Being the angler mangler that I am is nothing to be entirely ashamed of. Which leads into the third step, that involves superfluous writing. That is writing something online meant to be read only by a couple people, so it would be easier to just tell them it. When in actuality, well, only a couple people are reading it but anyone can read it. Let's start from the beginning:

Hey super-secret journal it's me again, you know the only person who ever reads you? Yea I thought you'd remember me. Well today (meaning the 2nd) I woke up to discover that my usual days worth of crying and eating cheerios was to be interrupted by festivities, renaissance festivities... Cloaked in my...cloak and accompanied by my band of not quite so un-merry travelers we set off for what was only the start of an interesting day. At the festival you'd be amazed how difficult it is to trade off your wench for something more useful, like a armor suit statue or a sword. ***CLANK*** (this story is briefly interjected with a fight scene) Drawing his sword just in time to repel the dark knights, the hero of this story(me), parried attack after attack. But as intrepid and skilled as he was, two swordsmen nearly overwhelmed him! Ha! Proclaimed one of the dark knights, you are no match for my powerful attack, blasting a terrible energy beam just barely deflected by his cloak. The brave shopkeep dispelled their dark magic just in time and sent the dark knights running for the hills, allowing the hero some time to rest. The party continued on it's way eventually meeting up with the dark knights again. Did our hero manage to repel the attackers huge sword swipe (which was completely unfair by the way)? Will the travelers ever be merry? And why the hell didn't we stop at Arby's?!?!?

But life isn't always fun and games, sometimes it involves killing people, which can actually be fun and a game. Let's say a person X, to be completely vague, did something highly inappropriate to person Y. Naturally person Y wants person X dead. So person ME, having collected all the sage knowledge of earth after a near death encounter with an angler, must assist person Y's execution of person X. Person ME occasionally takes time away from being a super-hero to be a quasi-super-hero/villain, and accepts his role to distribute death, destruction, and drinks all around.

This is the interactive part of the journal where the one person who reads this gets to brainstorm ways of a successful revenge. Vote sausage if you are pro-violence.

Well would you look at that it seems to have landed near the...*vomits*

Is your face covered in a constant shadow?

Wed, 14 Sep 2005 23:44:36 GMT

Step two in writing a journal is to make it partially incomprehensible to others. This can be done by adding inside jokes, excerpts of conversation, or if the writer is feeling particularly poetic(read as lazy) lyrics from songs no one has ever heard of. And now on to the journal:

Dear Journal, yesterday was september 13th, a Tuesday, I guess that unfortunately the day wasn't lucky enough to be a Friday. I found these song lyrics to be very inspiring and hopeful.

I believe that god made me a woman.
I feel it in my heart,
And this bitch’s voice must be heard.
A sex change is the only certain way
To preserve the sanctity of marriage.
We are living in historic times.
We are living in a time of great change.
Our leadership and resolve
Can light the way for others.
And having come this far,
And in the unfolding of the years,
This country has a new friend
Called Shirley W. Bush.
-from Dick is a Killer

Also, from now on i'm boycotting Columbus day, because Columbus is an idiot. Eratosthenes could kick Columbus's ass in a round of mortal kombat.

We measure leaves in inches...

No one wants to sleep in the blue room...

Mon, 12 Sep 2005 06:30:27 GMT

I'm going to write in this as if it were an actual journal meant to keep my secrets. I figured that this was a great idea since no one else on earth has discovered the internet and thus a completely public journal on the internet is the safest lock-box imaginable. So without further delay, here is my super secret journal of mystery that serves no function whatsoever:

Hello journal, I'm glad I finally have someone safe to tell all my secrets. I was up again crying all last night because the earth doesn't revolve around me. But now I'm happy again because I discovered the magic of cutting myself with razors. Three blades later and I'm a model citizen again, I'm cleaning up my act and purchasing that new house I can't possibly afford. It feels great to get that off my shoulders, now to finish writing that suicide note...

As an addendum I'd like to note that anyone who isn't in a quixotic mood is gay.

Don't get eaten by spiders in the basement.