Wednesday, March 31, 2004

I'm not here.

I
Every one around
Near
Every one around
Near

But so alone

Every one around
Near
Every one around
Near

But so alone

Every one around
Near
Every one around
Near

But so alone

II
Death was
beautiful
today

Dying
in my arms
was
beautiful
today

I felt you
in there
nestling around
searching for
me

There's
no one in there
it's a he
there's no
me

That's not
me

It is too bad
when I die
I must be
reborn

It is too bad
when I die
I must be
reborn

I'm not here
This isn't happening

I must be
reborn

Then the dying
again
will be beautiful

Phoenix I
The ash
The fires
The smoke,
billowing,
through the sky
the brim of my flesh

I am
a bloody pulp
a fleshly pulp
a sucker for you
to suck

How many licks
to the
center?

How many licks
to the
core?

I don't care anymore

I don't
care
anymore

III
five plus five
gives you
a ten

ten plus ten
gives you
a twenty

a quarter plus
a dime
gives you thirty-
five

one hundred plus
two thousand
gives you
two thousand and
a hundred

but through the numbers,
their logic,
their predictable way,
i cannot add you,
subtract you,
divide you,
multiply you.

i cannot combine you
cannot lessen you
cannot cut you to pieces
cannot make you muliplied

IV
they said
the smallest form
of matter
is the atom

well
you are the smallest
form
of matter

they were wrong
they were all wrong

we're not about
numbers
we don't need
numbers

all we need is instability,
unpredictability,
something warmer

we don't need
numbers

the number of times
i've lived
and the number
of times
i've lied
and the number
of times
it has happened
is insignificant

we don't need
numbers

we do not need facts

we are the numbers
we are the facts
we are not
faceless
we have
faces
we have
faces

we are not
faceless

we are not
faceless

we have
face
Comments (0) | Permalink

Kid A

Radiohead
Kid A
[Capitol]
Rating: 10.0

I had never even seen a shooting star before. 25 years of rotations, passes through comets' paths, and travel, and to my memory I had never witnessed burning debris scratch across the night sky. Radiohead were hunched over their instruments. Thom Yorke slowly beat on a grand piano, singing, eyes closed, into his microphone like he was trying to kiss around a big nose. Colin Greenwood tapped patiently on a double bass, waiting for his cue. White pearls of arena light swam over their faces. A lazy disco light spilled artificial constellations inside the aluminum cove of the makeshift stage. The metal skeleton of the stage ate one end of Florence's Piazza Santa Croce, on the steps of the Santa Croce Cathedral. Michelangelo's bones and cobblestone laid beneath. I stared entranced, soaking in Radiohead's new material, chiseling each sound into the best functioning parts of my brain which would be the only sound system for the material for months.

The butterscotch lamps along the walls of the tight city square bled upward into the cobalt sky, which seemed as strikingly artificial and perfect as a wizard's cap. The staccato piano chords ascended repeatedly. "Black eyed angels swam at me," Yorke sang like his dying words. "There was nothing to fear, nothing to hide." The trained critical part of me marked the similarity to Coltrane's "Ole." The human part of me wept in awe.

The Italians surrounding me held their breath in communion (save for the drunken few shouting "Criep!"). Suddenly, a rise of whistles and orgasmic cries swept unfittingly through the crowd. The song, "Egyptian Song," was certainly momentous, but wasn't the response more apt for, well, "Creep?" I looked up. I thought it was fireworks. A teardrop of fire shot from space and disappeared behind the church where the syrupy River Arno crawled. Radiohead had the heavens on their side.

For further testament, Chip Chanko and I both suffered auto-debilitating accidents in the same week, in different parts of the country, while blasting "Airbag" in our respective Japanese imports. For months, I feared playing the song about car crashes in my car, just as I'd feared passing 18- wheelers after nearly being crushed by one in 1990. With good reason, I suspect Radiohead to possess incomprehensible powers. The evidence is only compounded with Kid A-- the rubber match in the band's legacy-- an album which completely obliterates how albums, and Radiohead themselves, will be considered.

Even the heralded OK Computer has been nudged down one spot in Valhalla. Kid A makes rock and roll childish. Considerations on its merits as "rock" (i.e. its radio fodder potential, its guitar riffs, and its hooks) are pointless. Comparing this to other albums is like comparing an aquarium to blue construction paper. And not because it's jazz or fusion or ambient or electronic. Classifications don't come to mind once deep inside this expansive, hypnotic world. Ransom, the philologist hero of C.S. Lewis' Out of the Silent Planet who is kidnapped and taken to another planet, initially finds his scholarship useless in his new surroundings, and just tries to survive the beautiful new world.

This is an emotional, psychological experience. Kid A sounds like a clouded brain trying to recall an alien abduction. It's the sound of a band, and its leader, losing faith in themselves, destroying themselves, and subsequently rebuilding a perfect entity. In other words, Radiohead hated being Radiohead, but ended up with the most ideal, natural Radiohead record yet.

"Everything in Its Right Place" opens like Close Encounters spaceships communicating with pipe organs. As your ears decide whether the tones are coming or going, Thom Yorke's Cuisinarted voice struggles for its tongue. "Everything," Yorke belts in uplifting sighs. The first-person mantra of "There are two colors in my head" is repeated until the line between Yorke's mind and the listener's mind is erased.

Skittering toy boxes open the album's title song, which, like the track "Idioteque," shows a heavy Warp Records influence. The vocoder lullaby lulls you deceivingly before the riotous "National Anthem." Mean, fuzzy bass shapes the spine as unnerving theremin choirs limn. Brash brass bursts from above like Terry Gilliam's animated foot. The horns swarm as Yorke screams, begs, "Turn it off!" It's the album's shrill peak, but just one of the incessant goosebumps raisers.

After the rockets exhaust, Radiohead float in their lone orbit. "How to Disappear Completely" boils down "Let Down" and "Karma Police" to their spectral essence. The string-laden ballad comes closest to bridging Yorke's lyrical sentiment to the instrumental effect. "I float down the Liffey/ I'm not here/ This isn't happening," he sings in his trademark falsetto. The strings melt and weep as the album shifts into its underwater mode. "Treefingers," an ambient soundscape similar in sound and intent to Side B of Bowie and Eno's Low, calms after the record's emotionally strenuous first half.

The primal, brooding guitar attack of "Optimistic" stomps like mating Tyrannosaurs. The lyrics seemingly taunt, "Try the best you can/ Try the best you can," before revealing the more resigned sentiment, "The best you can is good enough." For an album reportedly "lacking" in traditional Radiohead moments, this is the best summation of their former strengths. The track erodes into a light jam before morphing into "In Limbo." "I'm lost at sea," Yorke cries over clean, uneasy arpeggios. The ending flares with tractor beams as Yorke is vacuumed into nothingness. The aforementioned "Idioteque" clicks and thuds like Aphex Twin and Bjork's Homogenic, revealing brilliant new frontiers for the "band." For all the noise to this point, it's uncertain entirely who or what has created the music. There are rarely traditional arrangements in the ambiguous origin. This is part of the unique thrill of experiencing Kid A.

Pulsing organs and a stuttering snare delicately propel "Morning Bell." Yorke's breath can be heard frosting over the rainy, gray jam. Words accumulate and stick in his mouth like eye crust. "Walking walking walking walking," he mumbles while Jonny Greenwood squirts whale-chant feedback from his guitar. The closing "Motion Picture Soundtrack" brings to mind The White Album, as it somehow combines the sentiment of Lennon's LP1 closer-- the ode to his dead mother, "Julia"-- with Ringo and Paul's maudlin, yet sincere LP2 finale, "Goodnight." Pump organ and harp flutter as Yorke condones with affection, "I think you're crazy." To further emphasize your feeling at that moment and the album's overall theme, Yorke bows out with "I will see you in the next life." If you're not already there with him.

The experience and emotions tied to listening to Kid A are like witnessing the stillborn birth of a child while simultaneously having the opportunity to see her play in the afterlife on Imax. It's an album of sparking paradox. It's cacophonous yet tranquil, experimental yet familiar, foreign yet womb-like, spacious yet visceral, textured yet vaporous, awakening yet dreamlike, infinite yet 48 minutes. It will cleanse your brain of those little crustaceans of worries and inferior albums clinging inside the fold of your gray matter. The harrowing sounds hit from unseen angles and emanate with inhuman genesis. When the headphones peel off, and it occurs that six men (Nigel Godrich included) created this, it's clear that Radiohead must be the greatest band alive, if not the best since you know who. Breathing people made this record! And you can't wait to dive back in and try to prove that wrong over and over.

-Brent DiCrescenzo
Comments (0) | Permalink

*has been quiet lately*

Where do we go from here?
The words are coming at all weird
Where are ya now
When I need you?

Alone an aeroplane
Falling asleep against the window pane
My blood'll thicken.

I need to wash myself again
To hide all the dirt and pain
Cause I'd be scared
That there's nothing underneath.

Who are my real friends?
Have they all got the bends?
Am I really sinking this low?

My baby's got the bends
I know
We don't have any real friends
No no no

Just lying in the bar with my drip feed on
Talking to my girlfriend waiting for something to happen
I wish it was the sixties I wish I could be happy
I wish I wish I wish that something would happen

Where do we go from here
The planet is a gunboat in a sea of fear
And where are you
They brought in the CIA,
The tanks and the whole marines,
To bow me away, to blow me sky high


My baby's got the bends
We don't have any real friends

Just lying in the bar with my drip feed on
Talking to my girlfriend waiting for something to happen
I wish it was the sixites
I wish I could be happy
I wish I wish I wish that something would happen

I wanna live
Breathe
I wanna be a part of the human race

I wanna live
Breathe
I wanna be a part of the human race
Race
Race
Race

Where do we go from here
The words are coming out all weird
Where are you now
When I need you?

Comments (0) | Permalink

Tuesday, March 30, 2004

Street Spirit (Fade Out)

I supposed I'd like to say this again: Radiohead is still kicking my ass.

I am pretty out of it today. I've noticed I cannot even concentrate or think much anymore, I hate thinking about things and understanding them so much. Another thing to credit school with: it has taught me that instead of worrying or thinking or understanding something, I can just half-ass my way through it, because in the end I don't really care--well, I don't care on some big extent that I care enough to actually care about something I'm doing in school.

I feel pretty burned out. You know, a candle that's lost its flame, that can't burn on the whick. Or maybe it's that my candle's almost out of wax to burn, and I'm scared to burn the rest of that wax, because the rest of that wax is everything I've ever had that's actually me--not something else anything wants me to be.

I could be writing stories. I just don't have the will. Now, anyway, I don't.

I don't even do my homework anymore. It's gotten so monotonous and annoying and a waste of time to me that I sort of zone out as I do it. I can't think about the homework. I can't think of what I'm doing at some point in time. I just can't.

And when I'm learning in school I care but I don't care. When it gets to the point of something I care less for, I just act like I'm listening but I end up zoning off. When I'm zoning off it's all blank, too. I don't think anymore. I used to think, you know. I used to think. Not anymore. Now I just am shoved education down my throat, and I listen to it and I hear it, but I don't really heart it. What I learn means nothing to me.

Instead of learning, I'd rather be experiencing. . .something. I'd rather be doing something that makes me feel like I'm going somewhere. Because doing schoolwork and homework and all this same crap each and every day, it feels like I'm in a circle. If you know anything about a circle, you know a circle is three hundred and sixty degrees: 360. And you can walk all over it and inside its area and on its perimeter, but you're still on the same circle. You can walk all over the circle, but it's still the same scenery, it's still the same number of degrees in it: 360, and you are pretty much just a "drop of water in an atmosphere," you are just "dust in the wind," you are just a person, walking in a circle, that is lost, that doesn't understand why it all must be a circle, why it must be so mechanical, why it must be understood. You're forced to traverse this circle, but the more you learn about it, the less you know.

The more I learn the less I know. I think it's ironic. We sit here and learn all this stuff each and every day, we analyze things until we can no longer analyze them, we make things and understand how they work.

But learning and coming to understand something only leads things to be more verbose; more complex; more harder and bigger and larger. Things get out of proportions, and you no longer know how big or small they are, all you know is that a circle has 360 degrees in it, and that its diameter spans the center, and that as you walk you keep going over the same things, no matter how much more you know about it. It seems less greater and more complex and harder to understand when you can't even cognizance what you're trying to find here in this circle.

Spin, spin, spin: that's all you do. You walk and journey and span and find and seek and search, but you're still stuck to the circle, like a hampster stuck to a wheel, spinning endlessly, perpetually; still stuck to the wheel like an axle holds a wheel to a car and makes it, hard, stay there; still on the circle, like the Earth and how it orbits the sun, how grabity handles it all, how all the planets orbit, too.

The further I go the less I know. When I was littler, that was when I knew the most.

It's the children of the world who know the most.

The rest of us are just dead, decaying tissue. We're dropping like flies, and as we're dropping more and more each day, we have to procreate, we have to give birth: we create maggots. Maggots which think they are so divine and beautiful that their image of beauty isn't brainwashed into them. Maggots who, when they look at themselves in the mirror, see something beautiful, when, in fact, they aren't beautiful at all. When they are fools.

How is one a fool if one doesn't know what a fool is and that one is a fool? How does a child know he is a child when he doesn't know he's a child?

Ah, but would I were a maggot, sucking most sweet divine. How many of you know what I mean by that? I explained it to Michael here, and he said it was pretty damn awesome.

Well, what I mean is just what I've said: we as so-called "adults" are such fools. The children, they are the one that keep our race going, keep it alive, and are most alive, while we are dying more and more each day, while we learn more and know less in the process.

"Be a world child
Form a circle
Before we all go under."
-Radiohead, "Street Spirit (Fade Out)"

The children make a circle, and when they see what they've been making their whole lives, they try to grow wings; the maggots try to grow wings and fly out of the circle, way up to the skies, like a space rocket sojourning to the stars, the heavenly bodies, those beatific loves that glow so softly smooth int he light, those ethereal realities.

And the children find that the circle is only 2-D. That the vision of us as humans is only 2-D. Everything is in bits and bytes and jagged and obtusely askew. To them it is. But to the adults, it is normal.

When the children try to fly, they learn the rules. And the rules are bitches. And that is how the maggots turn to flies. This is why I say, "Would I were a maggot, sucking most sweet divine."

Our whole lives is maggots turning into flies, and when we're flies we eat feces, and as we're dying and decaying each moment, the children are handed what's dying and forced to eat it, regurgitate it, and grow from it, until they are truly born into this world.

It's amazing that stars even exist. That dreams even live in my skull, this insipid, useless flesh. It's amazing I even try sometimes.

Optimists are those who think the best is yet to come.

Pessismists are those who think the best happened long ago, and was torn from them, and raped from them, and coerced from them.

I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had.

That can be taken two ways, for those of you who don't think. Don't think like I one day won't either.

Dreams has two meanings.

There are those dreams we dream in our sleep. And there are those dreams we dream in reality.

I find that the two aren't too different at all. The dreams we dream as we sleep are just as fictional and unreal as those dreams we dream in reality. They're just as useless. They're just as frail. As fragile. They aren't too different from one another.

One who dreams in reality dreams in his sleep, for in dreams there is nothing. In dreams there is nothing but decay. The reek stench. The dying.

"I can feel death
Blue hand is touching me

All these things into position
All these things we'll one day swallow whole

Fade out
Again

We'll fade out again

This machine will
Will not communicate
These thoughts and the strain I am under

Be a world child
Form a circle
Before we all go under

And fade out
Again

Fade out
Again."

Comments (0) | Permalink

Just

And Radiohead continues to kick my ass.

I just went on OB for the first time in a while. There's still nothing going on there, other than someone's post about Latin, and some stories of Shin's that I need to read.

I haven't been writing lately. I just don't have the will. It seems mostly useless. I guess it's a confidence issue, as well as other crap. But anyway.

I got bitched at by my dad about my grades last night. I really just don't care about my grades anymore, but I guess I'm going to have to persevere and get my grades up. Eh. Eh is all I have to say to that.

I'm scared about getting a job, to be honest. If I get a job I'm afraid I won't be good enough for this Fay lady, since she said she wants someone that "catches on fast," and I know that I am timid as hell and don't catch on fast. I'm afraid that if I get a job I'll just be fired, and then I'll have two jobs under my belt showing me that I can't work well at all.

Ah well.

Time for Chemistry, kids.

Hope it's a good day for you. Day's okay for me.
Comments (1) | Permalink

Monday, March 29, 2004

Like Spinning Plates

And this just feels like spinning plates.

I have such a terrible, ugly, work ethic. If I could, I'd say fuck work, and I'd just do whatever I wanted to. But that isn't the way the world works, kids! Nah-uh, sure isn't, is it? They say you've gotta work to get anywhere. Well, I say this homework is a waste of time and only makes me stressed. That is what I say.

I don't want to do this homework at all, but I want to get it out of the way so I can just play Ultima Online--my friend got me hooked up on it. I still haven't played it, hopefully it's good.

I went up to Video Action after school. The lady, Fay, asked me some questions. She said that if I were to catch onto things and work hard, that I would be able to keep my job.

If I get that job, I'm pretty sure it'll end up just like the KFC shit.

I'll be fired and then end up yet again not wanting a job.

The world is such shit, I tell you.

Back to work! Hooray! I love doing chemical equations balancing!

Why, I have homework in Geometry, Chemistry, and Latin. . .the usual Pythagorean triple that I always, always get.
Comments (0) | Permalink

Cold hard

Best case scenario: The racial pool of Century contains a large variance of hues and pigmentations of an interracial obligation and notion. The procreation is at an all time high and is unprejudiced in its fetus creation, creating a largesse melting pot of beautiful homo sapiens adapted and understanding that color and hue and appearance are not a widely needed accosting accusation to pinion someone down upon, and that who one is is not who one looks nor how one is colored.

Worst case scenario: The students of Century become Michael Jacksons at the game of prejudice. They purchase specialized products which change their skin color and allow them, in essence, to be Chameleons: shape-changing, adapting, paranoid androids; beings which need the ability to be machine and perfect in what they are do and say according to the authoritarians’ unbenevolent adherences. For if those who are different are not different in a way that isn’t different, and upholds the status quo, then they shall be pointed at as pretentiously pompous and derided upon like pigs to the slaughter, lest they rise above, a towering edifice, built brick-by-brick of hard cold stone. For those who are “pigs to the slaughter” are far more magnanimous and glorious than their archenemies who have fell into the pit and pendulum of prejudiced racism.

May a lesson be learned and the learned be lessoned.

Comments (0) | Permalink

I Might Be Wrong.

The varying "juvenile delinquents" of the world have a pact they must form; a visage they must don and accept. They must become Micheal Jacksons at the game of prejudice. They must buy special products which change their skin color; they must wear an oxygen mask that is forced onto them called isolation; they must wear a proctective suit called their minds. They must, in essence, become Chameleons: shape-changing, adapting, paranoid androids; beings which need the ability to be machine and perfect in what they are and do and what their appearance is, at least in the face of Those-Who-Are-Not-Named and are identified easily if one is blithe enough to see it.

For if those different are not different in a way that isn't different, and upholds the status quo, then they shall be pointed at as pretentious, pompous, and derided upon like pigs readying to be slaughtered. Like lambs, ready to be silenced.

There is a Clarice Starling in us all. She is the one who wants to save those silencing lambs, and noursish what is trying to be taken away.

There is a Hannibal Lecter in us all. He is the one who quid pro quos his way about, who is questioning and anaylizing simply by inutitive intellectual sleuthing.

We as cowards must die many times before our deaths. And we must be reborn on the hellish grounds of adaptation, impregnated to be what They want us to be when what we want to be isn't what They want us to be.

You slaves. How can you let Them do this?
Comments (0) | Permalink

Golgotha

I don't want to go to school tomorrow.
Comments (0) | Permalink

Sunday, March 28, 2004

That's right padres: tehsillycircus lives. . .at least right now.

Well, I started up tehsillycircus tonight again. It's been going for. . .an hour and thirty minutes so far. Hopefully I can keep it going all night until I can find someone to hand it off to.

I doubt it.

Desdos wants it to die lol.

Dessy sent me the old tehsillycircus. The thing is 1.7 megs big. Crazy big. I'm scanning it right now in boredom. Contemplating putting on my away message and hoping tehsillycircus lives.

Ken rocks by the way. I miss him in chats.

I leave you with what the chat is so far (and let it be a warning, it is lame. . .)

(4:59:32 AM) You have just entered room "tehsillycircus."
(4:59:48 AM) Desbreko145 has entered the room.
Desbreko145 (4:59:54 AM): ...
Desbreko145 (4:59:55 AM): Why?
machineofbones (4:59:59 AM): LOL
Desbreko145 (5:00:08 AM): *kicks you in the nads*
Desbreko145 (5:00:13 AM): There, I made good on my promise.
machineofbones (5:00:19 AM): :-(
Desbreko145 (5:00:26 AM): :-P
machineofbones (5:00:31 AM): You're mean.
machineofbones (5:00:36 AM): Desdos the sex maker.
Desbreko145 (5:00:48 AM): Hey, I said I'd do it after the original one ended.
machineofbones (5:00:56 AM): Yeah. So.
Desbreko145 (5:00:58 AM): Can't go back on my word, can I?
machineofbones (5:01:00 AM): I'm special.
machineofbones (5:01:28 AM): I don't have nads. *blush*
machineofbones (5:01:30 AM): . . .
Desbreko145 (5:01:33 AM): ...
machineofbones (5:01:42 AM): *invites more people*
(5:02:00 AM) ImmortalyFragile has entered the room.
(5:02:02 AM) OtakuMimmi has entered the room.
ImmortalyFragile (5:02:08 AM): Whee.
OtakuMimmi (5:02:27 AM): I'm officially scared of this room O.o
ImmortalyFragile (5:02:45 AM): Yes. it is early morning and Mitch has created a chat.
ImmortalyFragile (5:02:53 AM): Noone will come out unscathed.
machineofbones (5:02:58 AM): Desdos, you gonna kick them in the nads, too?
OtakuMimmi (5:02:58 AM): We need to get Mitch into bed...
machineofbones (5:03:07 AM): :-*
OtakuMimmi (5:03:09 AM): O:-)
Desbreko145 (5:03:13 AM): No. I only said I'd kick the creator of the chat in the nads.
ImmortalyFragile (5:03:19 AM): Yes... before he threatens the world.
Desbreko145 (5:03:21 AM): I will "Whee," however.
machineofbones (5:03:23 AM): What if I didn't create it?
machineofbones (5:03:37 AM): It was the evil tehsillycircus spirit.
OtakuMimmi (5:03:40 AM): *gives her mighty team partner a hug*
Desbreko145 (5:03:45 AM): But you obviously did. You invited me, and when I joined there was no one else in the room.
machineofbones (5:03:48 AM): *returns*
machineofbones (5:03:58 AM): machineofbones (5:03:37 AM): It was the evil tehsillycircus spirit.
OtakuMimmi (5:04:00 AM): I was hugging Des, actually >_>;
machineofbones (5:04:05 AM): I hate you then.
machineofbones (5:04:07 AM): Go away.
OtakuMimmi (5:04:08 AM): *hugs Mitch also*
machineofbones (5:04:09 AM): :-(
ImmortalyFragile (5:04:17 AM): *feels lonesome*
machineofbones (5:04:25 AM): *gives him hickey*
OtakuMimmi (5:04:27 AM): *pulls them all in and group hugs*
ImmortalyFragile (5:04:40 AM): *is hickeyed* Eww....
machineofbones (5:04:51 AM): lol
ImmortalyFragile (5:05:01 AM): Didn't you kill the last silly circus Des?
*OnlineHost* (5:05:04 AM): ImmortalyFragile rolled 2 6-sided dice: 3 2
OtakuMimmi (5:05:09 AM): He sure did
Desbreko145 (5:05:10 AM): I did.
Desbreko145 (5:05:21 AM): Killed it dead.
machineofbones (5:05:21 AM): It'll never suffocate you more than the everyday passing of human day events
OtakuMimmi (5:05:27 AM): *steals Des' pants for old times sake*
ImmortalyFragile (5:05:31 AM): Would you be prepared to do it again?
Desbreko145 (5:05:42 AM): Wow. Is there a draft in here or what? :-P
machineofbones (5:05:43 AM): And isolation is the oxygen mask you're making children breathe into to survive.
machineofbones (5:05:59 AM): *steals his own pants for old times sake*
OtakuMimmi (5:06:05 AM): *opens the window* There sure is now >:D
machineofbones (5:06:28 AM): My computer hates me.
machineofbones (5:06:32 AM): Stupid computer.
machineofbones (5:06:42 AM): Always making internet explorer windows pop up to piss me off.
ImmortalyFragile (5:06:51 AM): Haha.
machineofbones (5:06:52 AM): And then saying some weird shit about the server not wokring or something.
machineofbones (5:06:53 AM): Bastard.
ImmortalyFragile (5:06:54 AM): Use Mozilla.
Desbreko145 (5:07:05 AM): Mozilla is much better.
machineofbones (5:07:11 AM): Your mom is the best, though.
ImmortalyFragile (5:07:13 AM): Agreed.
OtakuMimmi (5:07:17 AM): O.o
ImmortalyFragile (5:07:24 AM): TO MOZILLA!
machineofbones (5:07:28 AM): Damn~
OtakuMimmi (5:07:33 AM): *waves them off*
machineofbones (5:07:42 AM): Don't wave me off!
ImmortalyFragile (5:07:47 AM): *is waved*
OtakuMimmi (5:07:57 AM): *waves him to her, then*
OtakuMimmi (5:08:03 AM): *LOL*
machineofbones (5:08:09 AM): *comes*
ImmortalyFragile (5:08:13 AM): *battles Super Nads*
machineofbones (5:08:15 AM): Yes missus?
OtakuMimmi (5:08:39 AM): Be a nice lad and run to the shop and get me some milk chocolate, ey ? :-)
machineofbones (5:08:53 AM): The death of one is a tragedy, the death of one is tragedy, the death of one is tragedy, but the death of a million is just a statistic.
ImmortalyFragile (5:08:57 AM): *defeats Super Nads in single combat*
Desbreko145 (5:10:45 AM): *Super Nads reject you*
ImmortalyFragile (5:10:45 AM): *is rejected*
machineofbones (5:10:45 AM): Milk Chocolate?
machineofbones (5:10:45 AM): That's lame. I'
machineofbones (5:10:45 AM): I'
machineofbones (5:10:45 AM): I'm not getting that.
OtakuMimmi (5:10:45 AM): *giggles*
machineofbones (5:10:58 AM): Stupid FAGOL.
OtakuMimmi (5:10:59 AM): How about some Pringles ?
ImmortalyFragile (5:11:05 AM): *shoots Super Nads but a bulletn ricochets off a pube to hit Mitch in the eye*
machineofbones (5:11:12 AM): Pringles?
machineofbones (5:11:17 AM): Pringles. Hm.
machineofbones (5:11:37 AM): But I'm not a slave to a god that doesn't exist, I'm not a slave to a world that doesn't exist.
machineofbones (5:11:42 AM): And when we were good, you'd just close your eyes.
OtakuMimmi (5:11:44 AM): So much violence in here
machineofbones (5:11:50 AM): So when we are bad, we'll scar your minds.
ImmortalyFragile (5:12:02 AM): Mitch are you wearing an eye patch?
machineofbones (5:12:04 AM): Fight, fight, fight, fight.
OtakuMimmi (5:12:15 AM): That sounds like the song in FFX
OtakuMimmi (5:12:18 AM): Rawr
machineofbones (5:12:28 AM): It's Marilyn Manson.
OtakuMimmi (5:12:31 AM): I need to get my speakers hooked up
machineofbones (5:13:01 AM): I speakers.
machineofbones (5:13:34 AM): Oh, tehsillycircus, tehsillycircus, tehsillycircus, circus, circus, circus. . .
OtakuMimmi (5:14:21 AM): I have myO's to visit and stuff to do. Not to mention this place makes my head dizzy *_*
ImmortalyFragile (5:14:26 AM): *kills mitch*
machineofbones (5:14:31 AM): They just cut our wrists like cheap coupons, and say death was on sale today.
OtakuMimmi (5:14:42 AM): Take care silly chat room *waves*
machineofbones (5:14:47 AM): I hate you.
ImmortalyFragile (5:14:50 AM): I leave with Mimmi.
machineofbones (5:14:55 AM): I hate you too.
OtakuMimmi (5:14:58 AM): O.o
ImmortalyFragile (5:15:05 AM): *is hated* YAY!
OtakuMimmi (5:15:09 AM): *leaves*
(5:15:11 AM) OtakuMimmi has left the room.
ImmortalyFragile (5:15:14 AM): Now, if you'll excuse me.
machineofbones (5:15:14 AM): *hates*
ImmortalyFragile (5:15:16 AM): *BANG*
(5:15:18 AM) ImmortalyFragile has left the room.
machineofbones (5:15:26 AM): I must keep it alive!!!!!!!!!!
machineofbones (5:15:34 AM): For all night!
Desbreko145 (5:16:04 AM): Well, I'm sure as hell not going to this time.
Desbreko145 (5:16:44 AM): The last one was enough sillycircus for me.
machineofbones (5:16:44 AM): lol
Desbreko145 (5:20:00 AM): I have to stay until you leave, though, otherwise it might keep going...
machineofbones (5:20:11 AM): lol
Desbreko145 (5:20:40 AM): I killed the last one. I shall bury this one also.
machineofbones (5:21:12 AM): No you won't. Mwahahah.
Desbreko145 (5:26:49 AM): You're on 56k, aren't you? You'll have to sign off some time.
machineofbones (5:27:08 AM): Never.
Desbreko145 (5:27:22 AM): Bah.
machineofbones (5:28:46 AM): Sounds like a sheep.
Desbreko145 (5:29:42 AM): No. A sheep's bah is drawn out. That was short concise.
Desbreko145 (5:29:51 AM): *short and
machineofbones (5:29:51 AM): Open down.
Desbreko145 (5:30:16 AM): Eh?
machineofbones (5:30:37 AM): What's the opposite of open?
Desbreko145 (5:30:48 AM): Closed?
machineofbones (5:31:20 AM): What else?
machineofbones (5:31:21 AM): There's another one that's opposite open?
Desbreko145 (5:31:53 AM): unopened? :-P
machineofbones (5:32:13 AM): Pff. Silly Desdos.
machineofbones (5:32:18 AM): Shut.
machineofbones (5:32:21 AM): What's the opposite of up>?
machineofbones (5:32:24 AM): Er.
machineofbones (5:32:25 AM): Down.
Desbreko145 (5:32:28 AM): lol
machineofbones (5:32:30 AM): :-(
machineofbones (5:32:43 AM): Open down!
machineofbones (5:32:52 AM): I didn't do it on purpose. . .stupid lethargy.
machineofbones (5:32:52 AM): :-(
Desbreko145 (5:33:07 AM): *still laughs*
machineofbones (5:33:15 AM): You're mean.
machineofbones (5:33:28 AM): So, you gonna make a post about how Mitch opened tehsillycircus for business this eve?
machineofbones (5:33:34 AM): I think your My O needs one.
Desbreko145 (5:34:07 AM): I just posted a new midi, and a post before that yesterday.
machineofbones (5:34:12 AM): So?
machineofbones (5:34:15 AM): You need to be like me.
machineofbones (5:34:24 AM): I've already posted. . .three times today alone.
Desbreko145 (5:34:33 AM): You have too much time on your hands then. :-P
machineofbones (5:34:48 AM): I use my hands for other purposes, though.
machineofbones (5:34:49 AM): *wink*
machineofbones (5:35:29 AM): Hm. . .if I could only crack Dessy's password. . .then take over his My O.
machineofbones (5:35:50 AM): Then I'd post endlessly, and people would be like, "HOLY BANANAS BEANS, DESDOS IS ACTUALLY POSTING!"
Desbreko145 (5:36:04 AM): I'd just change the password.
machineofbones (5:36:20 AM): You're mean.
machineofbones (5:37:10 AM): Still, don't you want people going around saying, "HOLY BANANAS BEANS, DESDOS IS ACTUALLY POSTING!"?
machineofbones (5:37:53 AM): And also, there'd be people going, "TEHSILLYCIRCUS! IT LIVES!"
Desbreko145 (5:38:06 AM): I don't want that second one to happen.
Desbreko145 (5:38:12 AM): I want this thing to die.
machineofbones (5:38:13 AM): lol
machineofbones (5:38:17 AM): Why?
Desbreko145 (5:38:17 AM): Again.
machineofbones (5:38:21 AM): I don't see your motivesd.
Desbreko145 (5:38:21 AM): This is an undead chat.
machineofbones (5:38:27 AM): Yeah. And?
machineofbones (5:38:36 AM): I'll wait for someone else to carry on the tortch.
machineofbones (5:38:38 AM): Torch.
Desbreko145 (5:38:39 AM): It deserved its first death.
machineofbones (5:38:53 AM): But why does it deserve it this time?
machineofbones (5:39:25 AM): Hah. You can't give me a reason!
Desbreko145 (5:39:32 AM): Because it went for far too long the first time.
machineofbones (5:39:41 AM): But this is the other time.
Desbreko145 (5:39:43 AM): Like, the length of about seven chats.
machineofbones (5:39:46 AM): This has nothing to do with the first.
machineofbones (5:39:54 AM): Did you save the whole thing?
Desbreko145 (5:39:58 AM): That was long enough for one chat.
machineofbones (5:39:58 AM): I want it lol.
Desbreko145 (5:40:00 AM): Yes.
Desbreko145 (5:40:36 AM): I have all of it that I was around for.
Desbreko145 (5:40:36 AM): Which is almost all.
Desbreko145 (5:40:37 AM): 1.33 MB of plain text.
machineofbones (5:40:37 AM): I want it.
machineofbones (5:40:37 AM): Give it.
machineofbones (5:41:02 AM): Do you have to sign onto your other name?
Desbreko145 (5:41:06 AM): Yeah.
Desbreko145 (5:41:08 AM): Doing so now.
machineofbones (5:41:10 AM): Bahahah.
machineofbones (5:44:43 AM): *finds a lion in a cage in tehsillycircus and pets it for hours on end*
machineofbones (5:45:12 AM): *pet pet pet*
machineofbones (5:45:14 AM): Yes, that is right my pet.
machineofbones (5:45:18 AM): *pet pet pet*
machineofbones (5:45:21 AM): You are a sexy feline.
machineofbones (5:45:22 AM): Yes.
machineofbones (5:45:39 AM): *pet pet pet* A very sexy feline. One that deserves to dwell in tehsillycircus.
machineofbones (5:45:51 AM): I wouldn't ask for a better lion thany ou.
machineofbones (5:45:54 AM): *than you
machineofbones (5:46:09 AM): *pet pet pet*
machineofbones (5:46:38 AM): *pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet petep tept ept eptp epe pte pet pet pet pet pet epet pete petep ep pet pet pet pet pte*
Desbreko145 (5:46:43 AM): ...
machineofbones (5:46:49 AM): *laughs*
machineofbones (5:47:04 AM): DOn't you have anything to pet, Desdos?
machineofbones (5:47:08 AM): I mean, you are a sex maker. . .
Desbreko145 (5:47:12 AM): >_>
machineofbones (5:47:48 AM): *pet pe tp etp pet pet pet pet pte pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pt pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet petp et pet petp pte pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet pet p
machineofbones (5:49:21 AM): Don't you have any other chats you'd like to send? What else you got?
machineofbones (5:49:32 AM): I'm bored and need entertainment to wait off my time in tehsillycircus.
Desbreko145 (5:49:58 AM): Ugh...
machineofbones (5:50:06 AM): lol
machineofbones (5:50:17 AM): I'm serious I'm not leetting it die.
machineofbones (5:52:22 AM): Ugh. . .
Desbreko145 (5:52:40 AM): ...
machineofbones (5:53:23 AM): You're lame. :-*
machineofbones (5:54:02 AM): This is so long lol.
Desbreko145 (5:55:52 AM): See why I don't want this thing alive again?
machineofbones (5:56:01 AM): No.
machineofbones (5:56:13 AM): lol.
Desbreko145 (5:56:21 AM): Damn you.
machineofbones (5:56:39 AM): There haven't been many chats lately. . .at least fo rme.
machineofbones (5:56:42 AM): No one invites me I guess.
Desbreko145 (6:01:19 AM): http://www.whiteninjacomics.com/comics/bigegg.shtml
machineofbones (6:02:15 AM): Reminds me of Weh's comics.
Desbreko145 (6:02:24 AM): Yeah.
machineofbones (6:02:35 AM): Whatever happened to Weh. Hm.
Desbreko145 (6:02:44 AM): Dunno.
machineofbones (6:03:43 AM): You used to talk to hm a lot?
machineofbones (6:03:43 AM): I think so.
Desbreko145 (6:03:54 AM): Yeah, a good ammount
machineofbones (6:04:34 AM): Yeah. I remember seeing a mod thread where he was saying he was sneaking on late to talk to you or something.
Desbreko145 (6:04:44 AM): heh
machineofbones (6:05:17 AM): But, alas, I am no longer a mod.
machineofbones (6:05:22 AM): *steals master sword and runs*
Desbreko145 (6:05:38 AM): *catches up and kicks you in the nads*
Desbreko145 (6:05:58 AM): *takes it back*
machineofbones (6:05:59 AM): I miss talking to Ajeh.
machineofbones (6:05:59 AM): I haven't seen him much at all. Except one time.
Desbreko145 (6:06:14 AM): Apparently it's his birthday today, according to OB.
machineofbones (6:06:21 AM): Hm.
machineofbones (6:06:24 AM): Happy birthday, Ajeh.
Desbreko145 (6:06:49 AM): Anyway, I should get some sleep.
machineofbones (6:07:01 AM): lol
machineofbones (6:07:01 AM): Yes.
Desbreko145 (6:07:06 AM): lol
machineofbones (6:07:08 AM): You should.
machineofbones (6:07:24 AM): Sleep. *evil glare(
Desbreko145 (6:07:42 AM): ...
machineofbones (6:07:56 AM): Damnit. lol.
machineofbones (6:08:13 AM): WTF mates? ^^\
machineofbones (6:08:19 AM): That is right.
Desbreko145 (6:08:25 AM): Yeah. My away message. :-P
machineofbones (6:08:44 AM): That's right.
machineofbones (6:08:46 AM): Go to sleep.
machineofbones (6:08:48 AM): Mwahhashaahas.ad.
machineofbones (6:08:50 AM): s
Desbreko145 (6:09:02 AM): This thing better not still be going when I get up in the morning. >_>
Desbreko145 (6:09:18 AM): Because that's exactly how the last one started,
machineofbones (6:09:18 AM): *grin*
Desbreko145 (6:09:18 AM): .
machineofbones (6:09:39 AM): I should sleep. . . but screw it.
Desbreko145 (6:09:53 AM): Bah.
Desbreko145 (6:09:56 AM): Whatever.
Desbreko145 (6:10:06 AM): *leaves...but doesn't actually leave*
machineofbones (6:10:15 AM): lol
machineofbones (6:10:21 AM): This is a fun game.
machineofbones (6:19:12 AM): No longer idel.
machineofbones (6:19:13 AM): Bad Des.
machineofbones (6:19:20 AM): Go back to sleep
machineofbones (6:19:20 AM): Silly
machineofbones (6:27:52 AM): xcvjksdhfjk
machineofbones (6:28:11 AM): I should sleep soon, and hope this chat survives, and my computer doesn't fuck up.
machineofbones (6:30:40 AM): Hmmmmmmm.
Comments (0) | Permalink