well, another weekend has come and gone. another chapter in my novel written, another chapter of Mann read, yet nothing tangible to show for it.

sometimes i lie in bed perfectly energized, ready to confront the world, yet with a gloom overshadowing that says "thou shalt not", and i stay in bed.
i know no other person on earth, it is as if in 1989 a ufo came and delivered me unto the world in order that i may collect data on these strange earth creatures. all i can bring myself to absorb from the outside world is the finest elements of humanity, its art and poetry. yet when i look around i see that the lowest forms of civilization have overtaken winchester: factories, chain restaurants, big box retail outlets, repeating through the shenandoah valley without end.

why bother leaving the safe darkness of my room? why trouble myself knowing another who will inevitably turn out to aspire to work at rubbermaid so they can eat at outback, buy things from wal mart and live in a dan ryan home? it is as if some artist with an utterly nihilistic intent was given these rolling virginia pastures to pait his visions upon, and the hideous end result is where i must live.

but what does it matter? i tell myself. if i am alone can this hell even exist outside the confines of my mind? is it only a hell because i have confessed this truth(?) to abagail? am i the freak amongst these creatures who spawn on stripmalls and pavement?

i need a muse. a beautiful girl against whom all the world will pale in beauty. a bastion of meaning in this planet gone mad, a girl whose brilliant shine will illuminate the depths of my cavern of despair.

but of that i can only hope.....

Yo. Pretentious young douchebag type boy...

Wanna touch my pen0r?

It's a phase I think. Good luck on the beautiful girl angle.

if you want a beautiful woman, i suggest going to your local red light district and paying for one.

if it was good enough for most of the artistic geniuses of history, then it should be good enough for you.

and hey, leonardo managed it without seeing a woman, most artists of years gone by just painted men with breasts, as none had seen a woman in her birthday suit.

and yes i do know a small bit about art. not alot, but i can tell my botticelli from my raphaello.

Weren't a lot of these artists also rampant homosexuals?

if you want an accurate description of my red light district, i will quote ICP, a knowledgable source on that matter

"well i don't understand this phenomonon/
we fuckin' these hoes that look like splenomonon/
rich boys think that it's shit/
but i like fuckin' crackheads with one tit"

so if i were into THAT sort of thing, i'd be right at home.
by the way, leonardo had a succulent little twink to sodomize, so he didn't need a female anyway.

actually, i didnt want one. nor do i like icp. i would say "thank you anyway" but i dont want to.

and yes, alot were homosexuals. caravaggio was extremely so.

So... does that mean he doesn't want to touch my pen0r?

You have this interllectual facade and then you quote icp....

i will

he's an artsyfart. they're all faggots at heart. he'll stroke, lick, suck and fuck that pen0r of yours.

Sweet. Finally someone will.

hahaha. can be taken in many concepts.

and you know i'd suck your pen0r any time.

just as long as i get to play with the hoo hoos and snatch too.

lol i was just thinking that

you obviously didn't read my exhaustive review of their first four albums on the music forum. i think you would do well to read that.

This guys posts never cease to amuse.

If only he lived near me, we could gather in the library, sip brandy and smoke pipes while we discuss Sartre and the plight of the proles.

most obviously, because noone gives a flying dogs bollock.

w0rd

ICP is hands down the worst band to ever get signed on by anyone at anytime. Quoting them is akin to quoting a loud, long, quite disgusting fart.

lol. youngwerther, i'm gonna make the mistake of actually arguing against the points you make. lol.

you said:
factories, chain restaurants, big box retail outlets, repeating through the shenandoah valley without end.

i say:
you don't think having shoes, cars, food, jobs, clothes, etc. is good? hell, let's go back to shakespeare's time, when people died in the streets from the common cold, died at 35 from exhaustion, etc. fuck, man, give modern day life a fighting shot... "the mind is its own place, and in itself can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n". surely you see the wisdom in that?

and why do you want a girl? fuck her? fantasize about her? have her make you feel good about yourself? the first one is cheap, the second one free, and the third one can be both. but you already seem to think rather highly of yourself... it sounds to me like you don't really know what you want.

and seriously, why quote icp? do you just want to piss people off?