:: Out of Spite, Out of Mind ::

:: Thursday, April 10, 2003 ::

Sometimes, when my world seems at it's darkest, little angels and wee leprechauns come prancing and pirouetting out of the woodwork. One of them- named Pretty Nick was kind enough to build me a modest lil Shrine


Thanks Nick! Check out www.1301.org!

:: Ol Man Factory 4/10/2003 07:15:00 PM [+] ::
...

I feel like a part of me has become a fictional character. As if the past couple of months could be summed up in a paragraph...

Something like-

The days imposed themselves on him like a machine... he bent to their will and went with the flow, not out of weakness or even patience - but more out of some unwritten understanding that it was some kind of price to pay. "Work" became a way to pass the hours and try to pay the bills- though his money went to things that only angered him to tears. The things that he thought he wanted turned out to be illusions and projections when they were within his reach, as if trying to teach him a lesson. He carried around a notebook and pen everywhere he went, but more often than not, the page would remain empty. It was bullshit bait to the muse, but she was not biting. His will was a loose cannon, sometimes on caffeine driven days off he'd get crazy ideas and swear to get his act together... only to collapse, narcoleptic on the brown couch under the rafters.

:: Ol Man Factory 4/07/2003 12:10:00 AM [+] ::
...