split brain masturbation

hello people.

my account at yahoo (polipoverde) has been locked, or possibly stolen. i cant access any information, or read my email. that means i cant email most of the people i know because all of their email addresses were stored there, perhaps foolishly. nor can i update my new website www.gothworm.com which i bought from yahoo and is also based upon my polipoverde account.

ill have to remember not to put all my eggs in one basket next time... or just not to trust yahoo.

please email me at polipoverde@hotmail.com if you need to contact me... ill let you know if my account gets fixed.

i think ive smoked at least a few hundred thousand cigarettes in the last week.

i dont know what day it is. ive been writing more music.. strangly i havent actually finished anything tho, just beginings of a bunch of songs i think arent too bad. in a while, maybe a month or so, ill have another cd.....full of songs with really cheesy forced endings.
btw, if you think not knowing what it is isnt really that bad, well.. you need help too =)

i finaly got to talk to my best friend from nz this morning. it was nice. we talked about alot of things with little intervals about music. she has a dream journal blog, which i really like, especially because she dreams of me, sometimes. i dream about her too, but i dont know that ive told her. she is the 3rd of a hopefully lengthening list of married women i pay too much attention to and shes one of the few people that i can say i truly love without any hesitation.
this probably means nothing to you, whoever you are, you.. reading.. weirdo. but i thought id dedicate a small space to this friendship, because its awfully important to me. and after all, what else should one write about in blog? (and who knows, maybe she'll read it and get all softend up :P )
well, nevermind, i suppose there are a lot of things one could write about.

i am putting together a surely unpopular but interestiong theory. i think that sexless love is superior to a normal uninhibited relationship. i may have some problems, yes, this is true. somehow, the people i really care about are excluded from my sexual fantasies, where as those lesser people that for some reason i have little respect for are included. i can think of some good fruedian explanations for this, but i really really hope that no one ever brings them up. i could be wrong about all of this, but i have the sensation that im on to something.
if i were to take my friend from nz into concideration, i think that i could feel things that go so far beyond orgasm to completely belittle it by merely holding her hand, and maybe looking into her eyes. (she does have really nice eyes). what exactly i could/would do is actually of little importance, the point is spending time together on another level, bringing ourselves to a spiritual space and really being together (if that doesnt make sense to you, then you suck). sex has been described time and time again as a spiritual experience, but, for myself, im fairly sure that its a low level physical experience that rather than take you to a another level, or bringing you close together spiritually, actually binds you to your material body and confines your mind to the conscience depleted state of seeking physical pleasure while giving you a very affective illusion of the sensation of spiritual exhaltation; exactly like a drug. a whole series of legal and illegal drugs can bring on a sensation of inner peace and spiritual elevation, the common denominator is that they all leave you with some sort of doubt, without a clear and understandable vision of what you have experienced, and most importantly, you always get kicked off one stop before the bus terminal, if you know what i mean. what i think links the sex experience to the drug experience is the blatant repetativness and facility (is facility a word? if not, i meant.. easyness) of the practice. the fact that you get an imediate response for an imediate action, and once used to it you repeat it over and over again without ever putting any effort into going any further or having different, potentially more fulfilling experiences. sure, sex is fun, and its even good for your body and to some extent for your mind, but thats really not the point. maybe a critical observation is due: if sex were an effective method of sharring your soul with your partner the modern day relationship would probably last a lot longer than it does. not to mention that people probably wouldnt stop having sex and then blame all of their relationship problems on an unsatisfying sex life; the divorce rate would probably be a lot lower than the estimated 50%. no one waits for sex before marriage anymore, if people used more effective ways of getting to know eachother there would be less marrying mr/mrs wrong, and probably less marriages in general.
well, anyways, thats enough of that. maybe ill think about it some more and type up something else in the future.

anyone wanna hold my hand? :>

day after day... we play out our lives...

id really like to type out endless strings of song lyrics, hopeing that people would understand everything they meant to me in this specific moment. unfortunatly things dont really work that way.

looking over my blog, i write alot about my impressions on love... or.. loves impressions on me.. erm, whatever. i suppose theres alot of bullshit floating to the top, too.
love is an awfully strange emotion, it gets even stranger when it is unrequitted. i suppose it would be interesting if someone i didnt want much to do with fell in love with me, and i had to deal with it somehow. it could be enlightening to be on the other side. i suppose the chances of that happening are pretty slim, but who knows. it would be useful to know how i make people feel. or, one person in particular, anyways.
in all probability love is felt differently from case subject to case subject. for me, love is more of a generalisation than a feeling, to tell the truth. one word for a whole array of different emotions that are all felt at the same time, tho the emphisis may shift from one feeling to another. the one that comes into to mind at this moment, mostly because its what im feeling the most, is fear. fear plays an important part in everything us humans do, or, just about everything anyways. perhaps i should try to analyse my fear, but it seems so obvious. other than the fear of losing the person in question (which, i, coincidentaly have already lost) there are probably a whole bunch of reasons why one should fear not being hurt; or in my case, fearing to have not hurt someone else as well. how about the fear of inadequacy? thats a good one, the one that is primarily responsable for jealousy, another part of love that most couples could do without. i feel more envy than jealousy, tho the two are closely related. as i mentioned in a prior post, i gravely envy all those who have love, even if for a short period. im not particularly proud of that. in the past concerned friends have tried to convince me to just be more open, to somehow, just BE HAPPY! and go out and jet get love. maybe thats sound advice, to me it sounds more like telling a cancer patient to "just heal"! thats kind of grim tho, isnt it? comparing myself to a cancer patient... hrmm. i could only wish. anyways, blah.
i often try to write about my feelings analytically, it detaches me from them for a while, and gives me time to catch my breath.
some people say that love is none of this, that when you're in love everything is splendid, etc etc. etc etc. etc etc.

"everyone feels good in the room" she swings
"two chord cool in the head" she sings
"a-buzz a-buzz a-buzzing like them killer bees... "
tell me this is not for real please
tell me this is not for real...
from time to time her eyes get wide
and she's always got them stuck on me
i'm surprised at how hot honey-coloured and hungry she looks
and i have to turn away to keep from bursting
yeah i feel that good!
she slips from the stage a foot no more
but it seems to take an hour for her to reach the floor
and the two chord cool still grooves
as she slides towards me smooth as a snake
i can't swallow i just start to shake
and i just know this is a big mistake
yeah but it feels good!
"if you want i can take you on another kind of ride... "
"believe me i would but... "
deep inside the 'but' is 'please'
i am yearning for another taste
and my shaking is 'yes'
"you will be all the things in the world you've never been
see all the things in the world you've never seen
dream all the things in the world you've never dreamed... "
but i think i get a bit confused...
am i seducing or being seduced?
oh i know that tomorrow i'll feel bad
but i really couldn't care about that
she's grinning singing spinning me round and round
smiling as i start to fall
her face gets big her face gets small
it's like tonight i'm really not me at all
and it feels good!

i think thats what this sort of love feels like. one of my favorite songs too. other than in songs, and dreams, ive never really felt that efore, but somehow, i already know what its like, maybe from the way my fantasy is capable of pulling people in and creating new worlds for them to live in, even if only for a second. ..ill never forget the girl who introduced me to that song. but thats beside the point.

ugh. ive gone and done it again. ive gotten so weirded out and so intense about my stupid childish emotions that ive gone and embarassed everyone involved and completely impared my chances at having a healthy friendship with them.

i wish i could have a labotomy.

i dont know what else to say. i need to go back on medication.

well, after 2 days of contemplating my solitude, having had a brief period of company with which to compare my day to day life, i have come to many new, or renewed, realisations.
nature has created a paradox within me. i am a contradiction. an ugly, useless waste of biological material.
it is clear to me now that i will never be able to obtain that which i need to survive, and without which i would remain but a shadow for years in pain and solitude until death would finaly cancel out my pointless thoughts as if they had never existed, leaving absolutly nothing behind but perhaps a brief moral and spiritual inquiry on the part of few as to why exactly i was ever born and allowed by nature to walk this earth and participate in evolution.
it saddens me to realise that i was born this way, born to experience pain, born to be excluded from life and to crawl thru the desolate lands of depression and the rejection of my species. the very qualities that evolution has handed me with which to enrich my surrounding are leading me to my destruction and to the destruction of those who stop to contemplate my existence. i must admit that i have been given a great passion for life, love and friendship; a great understanding and compassion for those who surround me with a corrisponding empathic power. these are qualities which in the present seem rather rare amoung the human populace of the world and that are indubitably very prescious, however they are only a peice of what is necessary to sustain a person's emotional psyche and thus keep them amoung the sane and able to function. i lack the emotional stability to handle this world and all of its poison. i am forced to understand and watch the pain of others while not being able to do anything to help them, i am as if closed in an invisible glass box and condemmed to observe the pain of my kin, not capable of alieving them their sarrows and i am also condemmed to observe their joy and their happiness without ever being able to experience it, as they do not acknowledge my existence and are incapable of sharing it with me; nor do they desire to share their love with me as i would desire to bestow mine upon them. i have been given an insatiable need to love and a strong dependence on the recognition of who i would eventually love, yet i lack all the qualities by which this could ever happen. for i am ugly, a true sore to the eye of who looks upon me, and i live a repugnant lifestyle and have a revolting way of speach and communication which i am incapable of curing. at very most i am annoying and uncomfortably difficult to be around.
because of my passion for emotion i tressure love above all other things, i wish to be useful and to bring love into someones life, without this oppertunity i cannot justify my place in this world. this however is impossible and will never happen, because other than my recognition of the importance of love, i have nothing to offer anyone and that therefor would ever give my love any importance whatsoever, making it utterly worthless to who may recieve it. after all, it is all too easy to be loved by the ugly and the needy.
said this, i am plagued with envy for the love that others give and recieve and every moment near to them is a twisting knife in my heart, reminding me that my reason for living is begotten.
for this unending pain i am nearing to my final decision, maybe it would be saintly to endure all of this until a natural death frees me of it. perhaps men and women would admire my strength for generations to come (hypothesizing that i was ever noticed or understood) for having lived into old age and been an example of why the sane should be thankful for their blessings. but in truth i aspire to this fantastical admiration or recognition much the same way as one may aspire to a piece of cake, entirly in superficial light, not nearly enough to continue this suffering.
as i have faded unnoticed into life, i hope to find the strength to leave.

istanbul, big city, i guess. seemed small tho, but the millions of people and their cats certainly werent missing.
so many emotions. im clueless as to where to start. i met the most wonderful girl in the world, and now shes gone. she left as she came, in a gust of importance and determination, off to discover everything there is waiting for her, the truths, the lies, the history of human catastrophy and the myth of love.
i started off by putting all of reality in question, but it just became stronger. people can surprise you if you let them. i met a few of them, far more than ive cared to meet in the last 3 years. i made some friends, and i let their hearts take me over. istanbul is a nice city, but not nearly as nice as the feelings it has cultivated for my numb and decadent heart.
it has all gone by so quickly, 4 or 5 days, i suppose... it all seems like 4 or 5 minutes. the intensity of this trip has left me a fragile cracking shell of the person i wasnt. i wish i could have stayed, but it wouldnt have been the same. i may return, only to find myself alone in contemplation of everything i have felt. it will surely take much time to sink in. and in the same respect, i may never see that confusing city ever again, i wonder if it holds anything for me without her.

on the aircraft, on the way back "home", as the engines began to rumble with anger and the ship slowly lifted itself off the ground i was instantly projected into trance, sweet, calm and consoling. i saw blackness, nothingness. and then her smile. she was looking into my eyes, and growing nearer to me. i have never felt such peace in a short moment. as she grew closer she became more and more radient, until her lips brushed against mine and all conciousness was lost.
as my mind drifts thru thoughts and memories, i can hear not but her voice. as my eyes close, i can see not but her eyes. and as i drop into sleep i can dream not but of her.
yet she is so distant, and so strong. i cannot asipire to her love if not in my thought, in my visions, and in my dreams. and as i lost my conciousness in trance, i fear to lose my mind in reality. this kind of love is something of which one can never recover.

nothing.. seems to be something. and so many things seem to be nothing at all. what tangible form could nothing have in order to be so present among us? of course, who says its all that present in the first place?
poli has nothing to write. hes been so cold and so empty for so long. so many so's..
maybe cold isnt the right word. no, it isnt. but what else can be said? so many questions in a handful of sentences.
after 2 dark years in a virtual realm where life becomes sendentary and stale, poli is begining to move..  to squirm..  bit by bit he is waking, walking, waking. the only thing more terrifying than the nightmare one believes to be living is what you might wake up to. and when. poli is at a turning point, turning to what is the question to which i have been illuding to. work is new, the rejection for this 2 year old security blanket is also a something that is spawned from all this nothing.
numbers.. many numbers cross poli's mind, 42.. 64.. 78.. and the number 2.  2 is a lonely number, as so often it means 1 alone; and when its divided it leaves nothing.  friendship can be so painful. this is also a new theme spawned from the nothing. it lingers ever so softly upon the subtle fabric of life.  friendship can spawn so many doubts. the weak reject it, and the strong suffer the rejection. "true love suffers and is silent". true love embraces the nothing and uses it to creat all sorts of new fabric, new life. new everything. the robes of the gods are spun from the sarrow of mortals and their longing for death, so it seems. the mortal and the immortal are tied so close together. what sense would imortality have if it were not scared by the passing of what is ever more limited? and what price would a feeling have if it didnt end. yes..  poli's mind drifts to the idea of infatuation, a momentary plague, and its only value lies within its ability to dissapear. if this sort of love were constant, what would it be worth? maybe it would take form as another dismal reason to take life and love for granted, as so many do everyday and at every oppertunity. infatuation screams to be lived by the second, for every second, and with no idea of the future, or the past. it is the only tangible reason for which the mortal truly live. to deny it is to deny ones own life and to wish for the end.  all too common these days.

hello dearest malmal, and my other followers.
upon the request of the many poor and helpless who obviously have nothing better to do with their i shall reopen this blog and commence splurging myself upon on it, once again.

stay tuned

Poli wishes he could write. Doc says he sux. Its so really really super not fair. Everytime poli tries to express himself he uses the wrong media.
Maybe he should build sand castles on deserted islands claiming that they neve existed because no one ever saw them. Maybe he should stop breathing, let the colour of skin express the emptiness of his feelings. Maybe he should shhhhhhhhhhhhhh… in silence all still and brittle waiting for a tip or a tap or a rattatat to break his little porcelain arms, and his little porcelain legs. That would teach him a lesson. It isnt beyond him to wish he were a doll, or a toy.

Note: this “author” was insane long before echoland’s divine illumination.

Ps: if I actually wanted any comments id tell the large sweaty afro-american to withdraw his penis from your mouths.

See: fox and grapes.

Furthermore this whole “shall I shall I not” routine is disconcerting and offensive. You know who you are.

(that last comment was void of meaning and aimed at the general population of weak minded blog-observers who may be prone to paranoia, you know who you are)

(see above)

Say you don’t need no diamond rings and ill be satisfied, tell me that you want the kind of things that money just buy…

How wonderful it would be to have a magic wand. Or a magic credit card. If happiness were on sale at walmart… or if love were in a vending machine on main with a two for one special… its something we all would like. Happiness would be made in korea, and to us fat ugly anglo saxons korea would be a little like the north pole. Little children would sit around a big plastic tree covered in pokemon decorations and listen to our stories of millions of korean elves that make toys 17 hours a day for us to play with, and how special are these elves! And oh how generous! They don’t even ask for money, they accept a dollar or two per day! And as legend prefers, they are all children, oh delight! Eternal children with big rosy cheeks and tiny hands that are just perfect for making all our little toys!…. mr and mrs clause would be story of the past we tell our children the stories of how the great just and godly american market preferred the inexpensive korean products and santa , knowing that all this was right and true went into retirement in a snazzy home in florida where he and mrs clause still live, happily ever after with a pension plan that expired 1500 years ago.

Ah! How the holiday season warms my heart!
Here I havent yet seen christmas lights… or trees adorned in holiday orniments.. great great sadness becomes me for the signs of christmas I see in november are advertisements on american web sites. Every real christian knows that christmas beings in september… oh why must these europeans be so late in everything they do?
How I would love to spend christmas in iraq this year. To bring little christian toys to muslim girls and boys all across that faithless dessert. At least one christian moment for all those sad children, forced to live in a godless economic wreck, if only the communists haddent contaminated their souls they would surly be like us. Such disgrace. Let us all pray together that all the children in the world may have at least one gratifying moment before god burns them in Armageddon.

Hello world

I havent posted anything in a long time.
My life is ocnstantly oscilating between progress and regression.. one step ahead and two steps back, maybe. Or vice verse, I hope.

Im listening to shitty music and feeling shittyabout it. I don’t know what sick satisfaction I get from living a cliché. I should stop listening to shitty music. I need to provoke myself for some reason. Maybe its because I identify with my depression a little too much. Feeling bad is like feeling at home.

I have a horrible habit of living in the past. I even lived in the past when I had no past to live in. when I cant remember what there was to be living in I put on an old song and there it is. I have a phonographic memory, I guess.

Welp, if theres anyone who still looks at this blog now and again, thanx. From now on ill try to write much more often.

I have moved far away.
Yay
Living with my father was a real drag, man.
Anyways, now I live in the mountains and I have no phone, so no internet either.
Im in the city on tuesdays and fridays and will post things on those days.

Nothing really new… my 2000$ house went up in smoke so I decided to buy a 500 000$ castle. But that’s just logical. Maybe ill turn it into an opera house and live in the tunnels benieth it playing with my organ.

We shall see.

Poli’s jaw is sore. His head aches and his eyes are swollen and blood shot. One more day, just one more day… it will all be over. A death, and a consequent rebirth, as is every action in life. Every breath and every thought is a beginning and an end. Want.. and need. Anything he could grasp was poison. His body is old and used. His mind is young and fantastic, he feels need. Imagination. His sore life is at an end, and he exerts more patients than he ever has before. From the outside it almost seems like a tribute to anyone who has ever suffered. A willing mistake? He could just indulge himself… choice is poison. I choose life. A lovely term coined a lovely person, in 96 or 97. fire dies, but it’s energy remains. Fire dies when it has nothing left to burn. The soul likewise. Spirits, people, things, feelings. They all cease to exist, if they ever did exist. They change so subtly. A person dies, and countless people take his place. His personality propagates. He dies, so he can be. When a person is deceased we can finally say he is truly alive.
In all of our lives we die several times, some more, and some less. Every time you change your mind, you die. Every time you open your eyes, every time you look unto life as a dawning not yet felt or known, you cry out with your first breath. Every feeling is a creation, and every sigh is an annihilation.
Poli is dieing. The spirits, the emotions. He is changing, before his own eyes. He counts the seconds, the minutes and the hours. The need keeps him in wake as he strangles it and watches it every so slowly turn blue and suffocate. He strangles himself and waits.
Quivering muscles, hardened tissue.. darkened extremities and fresh drool. The quickness of the eye. The judgemental attitudes of his own paranoid creations. Coming down off of existence isn’t always easy. There’s no methadone for easy outs and backdoor slides back in when no one’s looking. Black and white and all colours absolute. Detachment is both religeous enlightenment and a diagnosable mental illness. Buddha hasn’t taken his tradozone today, and neither will poli. Detachment is not a drug, but a horrible gruelling absence. An empty space in the mind. A conditioned mind.. conditioned to omit the possible existence of an infinite material or space, infinity is not condoned nor comprehended tho it is present in the detached mind. It is a cruel punishment for those superb enough to attempt at knowledge only hypothesized in myths, legends and the vatican. The knowledge of nothing in incredibly painful. And this pain of poli’s experience is not even the beginning, but as stressed afore, merely the end.
What is the point? Please help me. Tell me when this pain will end and when I may breath freely… please. I beg of you.
What is on.. the other side?
Nothing.
Nothing is everything as absolute existence and absolute non existence are one. Trying to visualize infinity is rather similar to the visualization of annulity.an empty space, not even a space an infinite nothing. A question mark, it answers itself, and doesn’t even ask a question. It merely is. You ARE. They all are. And you will be too. You were, once.
Poli shivvers, that you may shiver too.

so, bush is now managing to spend 5 billion dollars per month to "police" iraq. oh golly momma! at least he's saving on gas.

eureka! the same money the american govt spent to sustain the war in vietnam! well, lets give them a bitsy bit of credit for the last 40 years of inflation. one of the questions that comes to mind is: "wait a minute, there are some major differences between the war in iraq ( which bush already stated is over) and the war in vietnam, the usa wasnt policing vietnam, they were actually fighting a war, and getting their asses kicked, 100s, or thousands of innocent everyday american civilians were being killed every 24 hours. so, not counting the price of human life (which according to american policy is far far lower than the price of 1 cruise missile), where is all this money actually going?" we may never have an answer, if not out of some "wacko's" conspiracy theory.
fact seems to testify that theres something in iraq thats worth protecting without any other countries or the UN's dirty hands fondling their treasure, and it defiantly isnt iraq's human population.

napoleon seemed to have disregarded the roman empires error when it invaded the black forest in an area now known as east germany. hitler seemed to have disregarded napoleon's errors when attacking russia. could it be that bush is retracing nixons steps towards economic disaster and the total abandonment of a country destroyed by american war where children still die today on american/russian land mines?
maybe, just for the sake of accuracy, we could consider uranium poisoning in the place of land mines.

all the political movement in echoland has convinced me to write something up on this subject. it is very interesting, after all. for those of you who read here and dont know of echoland i strongly suggest that you check it out. (do it! or ill bomb the fuck out of you, with or without the un)

well well well.... i have a love/hate relationship with the illustrious president of the unite states of hypocrisy, i see myself in him quite often. to be more precise he reminds me of myself when i attended pre-school. ah yes, those were the days. there was a little orange truck that i dearly loved, i became quite irate whenever someone else touched or tried to play with the little orange truck and on more than one occasion i freed my little orange truck from the tyranny of other pre school children with brut force, and of course, i was completely justified in my actions; why would anyone want to play with the orange truck if not to limit my freedom? well, begin by replacing the word truck with the words petroleum industry, the word irate with the word humanitarian and the word force with the word freedom and you can see how much i truly do sympathize with george w. bush. its just so very unfortunate that the president of such an important country can be so misunderstood.
(we all remember that bush made the money that permitted him to be elected in the petroleum industry, right?)

today is september 9th, only 2 more days until another world wide cheese festival to celebrate the first concrete, but primitive, military reaction to americas "humanitarian" foreign policies. if one child hits another child and gets hit back, the first child almost always bursts into tears and as if asking for a reason to exist from "god" the child cries " why oh why did he hit me back?" the bush family's answer to this timeless philosophical inquiry is: "because you didnt hit him hard enough, son."

but... lets not dwell on motivations of the past. lets pick up from today. what now? unfortunately for me, and for my next door neighbours italy is now involved in the new system of suppression of iraqi freedom. its only been a few days, and italian troops have already died. i suppose that we have only president berlusconi to thank for this. berlusconi has alot in common with bush as well, they are both billionaires and both corrupt. they both bought their power thru advertisement, berlusconi even owns 50% of the television stations (and obviously news programs) in the country. the only real momentary difference between the two is that berlusconi started from scratch, as a teen he scrubbed the sides of boats for spare change, not to mention that bersluconi has improved italy's economy while bush is destroying his at the constant rate of 1.25 billion dollars per week.
so truly, what next? now that bush is running out of money, will he expect the precedently flipped-off countries of the united nations to pay for his toys and even send their own troops to be picked off by snipers one by one? will he really expect other countries to lay their people under american command? in the words of mr powell (more or less) "who wouldnt want their under a competent american command?" well, obviously, working for somebody with a blatant, evident conflict of interest isnt a good idea when your life is at stake. as far as im concerned, i cant personally do anything to stop them, but i certainly wont do their dirty work for them.

i was only exempted for the italian draft 6 months ago.

cold cold cold
my summer hath vanished. autumn is like a wide hole in the ground.
it has collected the dew and residual emotions and happenings of another suffered period of life.
it is cold, and damp, and empty. it seems to beckon to winter. to freeze anything thats left.

cigarettes on cold mornings remind me of love. a slab of cold ice on my chest. my veins shiver. the thick icey blood takes twice the time to reach my brain and for brief moments the thought of her isnt so haunting.

" to see a universe in a grain of sand"
depressing imagery. the less i feel significant the more i am free. freedom isnt all its cut out to be.
freedom is nothing more than an open consciousness, or an open wound. the ultimate knowledge of nothing.

last i had a strange dream. i was hosting a grad party in my own stomach. we were all sailing on ice bergs in a sea of acid. my brother was atttacked by a giant wasp and died. i wrestled with the wasp and manage to push down into my own stomach acid but then i was very afraid that it could sting my stomach lining. weirdness, i guess.

today is a very important day for the future independance of alexlandia from the tyrany of the dark one. i took my nephews horse riding this weekend and happend upon a very interesting offer. a construction company is desperatly trying to sell a portable home that they have no where to store. about 2000$ is the price they suggested. finding a house for sale for 2000$ doesnt happen everyday. i am anxiously awaiting news from them within the next few hours. i also have some land to put it on, so if the deal goes thru, ill be set. yay. for the mean time ill be living on the ranch with the horseys, free land space for my house in exchange for doing nightwatchperson work stuff and feeding/cleaning horses when their owners are on vacation. and eventually in the future i will move my portable house to my own land, as soon as i will have the money and permits to install sewage pipes, electricity and other neccesary house stuff in the ground. maybe biulding a foundation for my house would be a good idea too, but i might set it upon a few inflatable life rafts incase there's another universal flood.
all this would give me the oppertunity to start breeding huskys too, which is fun, stress releaving, and lucrative. the setting for this is in the french/italian alps. rather remote... an hour and a half away from the city. ive always wanted to be a hermit living in a shack. it could give me the peace i need to start living my own life again. there are alot of hotels and restaurants and ski resort around there too so nothing will stop me from getting a good job in my "profession" as well. i really like the idea of working ski season in the kitchen and breeding my dogs in the summer.

welp. we'll see if the deal goes thru.

a day has past. my computer is still broken and hasnt been taken to be fixed yet.tecnitian is on vacation. i have begun writing hand writtin letters. its amazing how much less i write when i have to write by hand. i get icky cramps and stuff. nontheless snail mail is far more romantic than email.

im house hunting, again. i think ill be moving to oulx, a little mountin town near france. nothng sure yet. but i doubt ill have a adsl connection there. sigh... no more music downlaoding. but using copy and paste functions ill still be able to post my lingering thoughts. phone time is really expensive here. hours of dial up connection really add up at the end pf the month. and of course, ill still be sending and answering email. moving out of my fathers house will be a great triumph. being away from chat rooms will probably do me loads of good. maybe ill even get a job.

the more i think about possibilities the more i become anxious. there are so many things to do in life. just the thought keeps me from doing any of them. maybe living in the mountins will help, clam quiet wholesome life. ill learn to yodel. i hope it can be a productive period for mty music. and i hope that i can mustrer up enough money to buy some music equipment, a digital 8 track and a few mics.. an acoustic guitar and a new computer i can use to add bass and drums and whatever else. i wish i knew more about musical engineering. maybe ill-esha can give me a hand. ill have to send her a long whiney email. anyone reading this who feels altruistic to give me tips, pointers, suggestions or other about programs i could use, books i could learn from or equipment i should buy could email me at polipoverde@yahoo.com

" a poli saved is a poli earned"

my computer is broken! whaaa whaaa... :( sniff sniff. my umbelical cord to reality hath been snipped, oh horror, oh... the humanity. the sadness.. oh pity me, yee of a far less tragic life. pity me.

i am forced to use my father's computer. i don know when ill have regular acess to the net again, it might take a week, or more. so no more long boring posts for a while. some sort ones maybe, like this one.

sigh. btw. love is horrible. my heart is all a-flutter. i recieved an email! oh gracious me!
k, im off to amputate one of my limbs for jesus.
REPENT!
YEE SNAKE! REPENT!

love.. what is there to say about love? everybody falls in love sooner or later, at least a few times in a life span. most people much more often.
i have been in love with someone for a very long time. sometimes it hurts... sometimes it brings on a euphoric state of being that encourages me in everything i do. sometimes its a cruel and relentless obsession that drives me to write to her constantly. and sometimes, for brief periods, it just fades away into friendship. i often feel cursed by this feeling. in my unfortunate case i happen to live 20 000km away from the person i love. its makes me feel impotent towards the world and towards the control of my own feelings. i feel stuck. i cant do anything to take my love in any particular direction and i dont have the chance to be dumped or rejected and begin moving on with my life, assuming i ever would move on with my life anyways. i've done silly things like pseudo marriage proposals via email and gratuitous flower sending, but none of this has done much for my state of being, or hers. i almost wished it would push her to the point of bluntly telling me she would never be interested, but shes far too sweet. as a consequence a tiny crumb of hope lives on and grows day by day, and i just cant discard the possibility for the life of me. sometimes i ask my self if love, for me, is just a psychotic form of self injury.

love in some ways seems to tie into my identity theory. an un founded supposition i tend to believe in is that human beings are predominantly greedy and usually only really love themselves... it ties into my identity theory because i believe that a human can never really be sure of what to love about themselves without someone else's identity to bounce themselves off of. we cant have a stable idea of ourselves without a stable idea of others and their stable ideas about us. this can be put into simple terms: self esteem, or, the ability to love ones self. this is something i feel fairly sure about. the next step is dealing with tough subjects like sexual preference and the dynamics of relationships.
people seem to ( most of the time) make a choice about who they decide to love based on specific character traits and physiological traits. to make my theory make sense the first thing that comes into my head is that we tend to choose the people who make the best mirrors, according to how we would prefer to see ourselves, or according to our current and desired level of self esteem. we choose people that like us! and we often choose people that we wish would like us.

just a minute! isnt love supposed to be an outgoing feeling?!? jesus christ is up to bat for unconditional love. "love your enemies" he shouts! but what does them liking us have to do with us loving them? well, thats exactly the catch. we dont generally love anyone that doesnt like us. and most people already know what its like to love someone for a long time and find out that they dont love us one bit. if the basis for my thoughts on love were in error, the fact that our partner tells us he or she no longer cares about us shouldnt matter.

so, getting back to the choosiness of the matter..... we choose to fall in love with people who complement our inner being. our "soul", if you will. ever heard the term "soulmate"? we also choose to break up with these people when we arent satisfied with with the way we see ourselves with a given person; when we come to the striking realization that "this person isnt my soulmate". the same principles work the other way around tho. a sadly large amount of people, often victims of parental abuse, tend to love people that just dont like them at all. abusive relationships. what works for someone who believes they have every right to love themselves works exactly the same way for a person that believes they have every reason to hate themselves.... just backwards. the roots of our identity are formed by our relationships with our parents, ( or teachers, or whoever becomes a roll model) when we look at our parents and try to understand what we are, according to what we think they think of us, this first image becomes our standard for life. victims of abuse in the family rarely escape abusive relationships later on in life.

in any case, no two people are exactly the same. a lot of the time people who are too similar dont end up loving eachother, for all the reasons stated above, maybe. opposites DO attract. everyone has hidden qualities and not so hidden qualities, we often choose a lover not just because he or she can exalt our qualities, but also because he or she has qualities that we dont; qualities that we think are necessary for us, or that we just really admire. being loved by a person with qualities you dont have is alot like assuming those qualities yourself. so many differences however also bring on arguments. i dont think theres an existing relationship in the world that hasnt involved a few serious heat arguments. an argument between lovers is never just a divergence of opinions, it brings on sadness, disappointment, anger, jealousy and doubt. when one person relies on an other for a significant part of their self esteem and vice versa any discrepancy between the two sets their whole perception of life into chaos. of course, not every little discrepancy.. but all the bigger ones. ever wonder why your partner "flips out for no reason"? this happens to women as often as it does to men (its not because your girlfriend is a teary eyed weakling).

ok, well.. this is the way i answer my four questions about love, seeing as how love is a subject that consumes me so.
a) why do i love?
b) why do i love certain people and not just anyone?
c) how can people love people who hurt them?
d) if people only love their potential soulmates, why do they argue all the time?

this is all elementary tho....
it brings me to one real question that i cant answer.
whats the point? considering all this.. is love just a farce? should it be considered a poison? an std?

One muscle after another. Rip the hairs. Scrub scrub scrub.
Hearts in boxes
Glub glub glub
Cracking whips go
Sub sub sub

Sigh sigh sigh
Lie lie lie
Fry fry fry
Die die die

Etc etc etc

Yo be bitchin wit yo itchin fixin
Rymin like simon an garfucnkle sublimin’
I say wut w00t wha? Yo
Shake off da beats
Push it to da ho
Make some peace
Shalom ma bro
One nig two nig three nig foe
Smoke some crack
Fall on yo back
Teach 11 year old geeks to hack
Hit it to da system
Hit it to da system
Make sum white collah stop der bitchin
I be politicoe, lyricoe slop
I gonna get me electroshock
Dun tell ma nigs when to change der socks
Yo an yo glass intellect shouldnt thro no rocks
Yo yo yo…
A fuckin dildo.

Poli awoke from his brief repose in a thick fog of confused thought. Morpheus, the lord of dreams had his way once again.
He rode a silver bicycle, pedalling for his very life, or so it seemed. Photographic memory was his momentary curse. The mental image was so strong to cloud his vision. All this generated by a pin prick, a little red mark on his inner arm. It didn’t even leave a bruise this time; the perfect hit. Tho he insisted on taking barley enough to make it thru the hour. A point at a time, a point at a time. His stomach stopped jolting, his muscles worked like finely greased machine components. Everything was perfect. If it weren’t for this lucid obsession his mind was in perfect order, and this was a rarity.
The man was pissed. Poli just wouldn’t take enough. A law among junkies, lightweights are either pigs or whores looking for information. Bad apples and pseudo junkies from dawson’s creek aren’t welcome in the midst of the slaves, their company is profane, it sums up in sacrilege. To serve your master is your purpose, the reason for which you breath, the only thing that makes any sense in this homosexual back alley art exhibit called downtown. Nonetheless crack worshipers, jesus heads and suburban kids that pop out the window during the 10pm soap opera are necessary. They are walking dollar bills, a vast sea of kelp for the infinite filters of junk sharks; walking retroactive abortions. poli was a junkland paradox.
The committee was taking their precautions. A sly group of agents were incognito, tracing his every move. In the vest of caring friends they plagued his rehabilitation. They intervened to see if he’d blow his cover, poli however had the best weapon known to an agent, an infallible shield: he was completely naïve. He brushed them off with smooth words, posh smiles and naturally wavy hair. The committee had to make measures for this as well. A lynch squad was voiced signed and timbered for immediate action. Poli wasn’t all that naïve, he had been expecting it. When they came around they found him waiting, short sleeved, tied, and prepared. Three of them held him down, one slapped him a few times and another pulled a half litre horse syringe out of his jock strap while a trainee, a 9 year old girl with dirty hair and a stuffed bra, cooked up the punishment.
Poli had no real choice but to smile in anticipation, he added a sticky line of thick white drool for emphasis and relaxed. His point at a time philosophy, and consequent subordenant behaviour was at its end.
The 6 inch needle approached, poli almost came at the sight. He felt his skin bending elastically inwards and a rip as it gave in to the massive blunt pressure of the ancient tool these poor sods had stolen from the equine exhibit at the veterinary museum. He felt it smoothly rip left and right looking for its home. “YES!” he screamed. It broke thru his vein tissue like an innocent creature’s hymen and the handler began worming his way up. Filled the vein half way to poli’s shoulder… poli was already unconscious, the anticipation gave him the most exhilarating high of his life.
Slowly, the girl began to push down on the rig… with the first drop poli’s eyes gaped open and his legs began to jolt and shake in ecstasy. She pushed harder and the fluid filled him completely.
His facial expression turned to a placid mosaic of kindergarten plasticine art, only his smile was still recognizable, his eyes almost glowed thru the milimetrical openings that persisted.
All faded into nothing and everything.
Oblivion

there's a new movement in town. sexual segregation. having beaten down most of the walls of sexism just isn’t enough; some so called feminists want more.

so give them more. if WE males have to GIVE them anything other than our sexual organs the problem obviously hasn’t yet been resolved. but in today’s consumerist society of dos and donts and politically correctness where do we draw the line? what differences *should* there not be between males and females, and what differences *should* be protected? obviously, consumer products like cosmopolitan magazine don’t do much other than teaching women to be the ideal slave. style, fashion, love? yes. but style, fashion and love according to male bias.

personally, i like the idea that individualism makes the diff. some people however disagree, they claim that the differences between the sexes are so great that an individual cant over come them. unfortunately (unfortunately for my penis), in this case im not referring to women that cant or shouldn’t be fireFighters, or police Officers; im referring to the wide spread feminist concept that " ALL MEN ARE RAPISTS ".

im sure, or at least i hope, that associating this idea with feminism will make allot of women who consider themselves feminist rather appalled. if you feel appalled, you have company. i too feel rather disconcerted by this absurdity. i always believed that feminism was about deconstruction and liberation, not retaliation, dumbassery and general attitudes easily passed as the result of penis envy.

the scum manifesto is scientifically obsolete, and even at its time it wasn’t worth reading, if not for comedic purposes. it seems more or less convincing tho. the exact same way mein kampf seems convincing. the author of the scum manifesto even dabbled into genetic theory, i see so many correlations between this blatant sexism ( if it cant be called racism) and adolf hitler's "laboratory proved" racism that i begin to feel ill just looking at it.
one of the concepts that the scum manifesto and its followers seem to spend a great deal of time stressing is that men are obsessed with sex while women are "on a higher level". this is some of darkest humour ever. dark because this theory became wide spread in the dark ages, and humourus because it was created by MEN in order to prevent "their" women from being promiscuous with other men; any women who did would be "unnatural", "unholy" and in modern day terms, "a rancid cock eating slut".
this general idea enabled men to sleep with whomever without consequences and even have the "understanding" and compassion of their wives afterwards. what a tangled web we weave when first we practice polygamy. if i may be permitted... this theory is complete bullshit, it doesn’t matter who uses it for what. you cant keep claiming that the world isn’t round just because it doesn’t fit into your personal beliefs, if everyone did this, science would have made no progress in the last 300 years and women, as stated in the scum manifesto, wouldn’t be able to reproduce on their own in the first place.
are women really less sexual than men? do women not get sexually aroused?
i think we can all individually answer these questions. personally, i think in this realm the sexes are far more similar than otherwise.
are the problems related to sexism towards women based on physiological facts?
are the problems related to sexism towards women based on social preconceptions?
are (or should) the social preconceptions that hinder females in this still predominantly male society (be) to be deconstructed by the feminist movement or should they be reconstructed as weapons in an equally sexist attempt at retaliation?

these are the questions that we, males and females, should be asking. and just in doing so we're breaking down alot of walls.

the scum manifesto is still a major influence in today’s feminism, even tho most young feminists haven’t read it. as reluctant as i am to admit it, it did do a very good of provoking males into taking their sexism towards women into consideration, but theres a limit to everything. the destruction of the male sex, mentally or physically, is a ridiculous goal. and THIS is exactly my beef with feminism. i don’t tolerate being called a rapist. this is an attempt at using my personal qualities ( ie: insecurity, fear, sensibility towards women AND men, and EMPATHY) to mentally destroy me and any bit of dignity i may have. it isn’t much more intelligent or productive than name calling in general.

Just as anti Semitist theory perpetually proves itself impossible (the supporters of anti Semitism are the reasons why the aryan race cant be considered superior) So does this branch of feminism. its reduces ALL feminism to a futile attempt at the assumption of STEREOTYPICAL male qualities, ie: aggressiveness, stupidity, in order to turn the tables on masculist chauvinists.

if males ARE stupid and intolerant, well, this branch of feminism is proving that there really is no difference between men and women.

to conclude an argument that could easily last far far longer and still not be completely accurate (because of all the references that would need to be mentioned.. studies, history etc etc) id like to note that there are many things in this society that are unacceptable for women and men with brains, like the fact that the percentages of female politicians, CEOs of large companies and recognized artists are still nothing compared to the percentages of males. not to mention the blatant exploitation of the female body that the mass media uses to sell products and ideas to both men and women, conditioning women to believe themselves to be objects and men to treat them like objects.

lets try not to be objects, but lets still try to be objective.

i have been coming to terms with myself for along time, about 22 years. of course, like it would in any retired acid head, this has led me to many interesting thoughts which i will painfully try to elborate in this post. yee haw. here we go.

id=identity internal, xd= indentity external, Cz=cozmos or surrounding influence.

id / infinity =(id+c)*( xd*Cz)
xd = id*c
Cz = id*xd*infinity


obviously, this, to any critical mind has already been completely discredited. it just doesnt make sense, especially not mathematically. however, according to quantum physics its a mind boggling truth.
not just in everyday life, but also in advanced science our perception of ourselves added to and multiplyed by our perception of reality seems to be the largest obstacle.

i have been led to believe that my identity is nothing more than a correlation. it is based on how i precieve myself without others, how i precieve myself with others, how i precieve the percption of others in my regards and how all of this is supposed to rigorously follow the inconfutable laws of my perception of reality ( nature).
my identity however, on its own does not exist, or at least cannot be proved to exist or accuratly hypothesized. the presumed identity of other humans also cannot exist without my presumed identity, and of course, the inconfutable laws of nature never exist when there's no one there to varify them ( see schrodingers cat in box experiment - to be posted later, or just do a google search).
only when these three elements are interacting do any one of the three actually exist. to make matters worse, they completely change with a constant rythem according to the passing of time - which i didnt include in my equation because thats really just going to far for my grade 8 education.
hence i am nothing but an interaction, or a correlation. this will make many supporters of "universal conciousness" theories very happy. i however am sad, scared and confused.

i should out to "god": "do i not have a soul?!"
and "god" in the vests of some tweed suited idiot would evangelize in return: "of course you do my son. jesus christ is the key to your soul"
this conversation with "god" however brings me back to step one. it makes no sense to my heretical human mind. (jesus christ also doest not exist without everything else)

the fact is ( "fact"-bahahah) that humans *need* a soul to exist. human beings *need* an identity in order to fucntion. its like a completely useless code in the programming of windows that really just serves no purpose but without this code windows will not load. life most probably has no meaning, but without a theoretical meaning assumed to be truth human beings cannot even take care of day to day chores. "theres no point". one might say "why not make your happyness the point?" and the vast majority will inevitably respond "what!?! and thro our votes away?!?". this, dear confused and bored reader, is not a coincidence. nor is it a coincidence that in our ever more consummerist and synthetic society there are more cases of mental illness (especially forms of depression, OCD, agorophobia and panic and anxiety disorders) every year. consummerism is nothing more than a shiney new american answer to a question that has existed sinse the dawning of human life: who, what and why am i?

even those who affirm that they need no meaning in order to continue life happily are trapped in this equation. not only do they nest their perception of themselves in the non perception of others but in assuming this ultimate truth they creat a new perception of the incofutable laws of nature which permits them to live peacefully.

my identity is a mirror reflecting itself. other than a few photons bouncing back and forth, what does a mirror reflect, when reflecting itself?

you have to stick your head in to find out, and at that point what you observe is nothing more than your observation.

another day, another dollar.
another page in my adventurous quest for spare change.

storm clouds covered my home today. strong winds.
depressing.
cigarettes dont buy themselves, dontcha know.
just a hop, skip and a jump from coherence.
this mental hop scotch is getting to me.
belts, shoe laces or skippng ropes are right out.
butts are the order of the day

a famous italian song writer/musician just won a european or world ( i cant remember) award for poetry. on its acceptance he said "anyone who puts songs and poetry on the same level doesnt know shit about poetry, and even less about music" roughly translated, anyways.
this made me smile.
it gives me an excuse for being a horrible poet.
tho i am still in search for a valid excuse regarding my songwriting skills.
suggestions will be welcomed.

poli woke up late.
11 am. the latness was upon him. with startling reflexes poli leaped out of bed and put on an array of random clothing chosen from the vast collection on his floor. with staggering speed he shook the cigarette butts and ash off of his jacket and arose towards the daylight.
"ahh! wonderous beauty!" he cried, and starred into the hot italian sun that left a purple blur in the center of his vision for hours to come.
again he looked at his clock and jesticulated madly towards the sky for a sign. he grabbed his romote control and frantically pushed its buttons. valentino rossi and troy baileys were chasing eachother in a fury. poli began to feel the heet rising from his abdonmen and was forced to remove his outermost protective layer. the sweat ran down the sides of his glistening body and dribbled upon his firm and shapley oblique abdominal muscles as he leaned against an abrasive darkend wall, dirtied by the years of supporting his unshowered manly body.
valentino had the best of troy baileys and his arch nemisis sete gibernao. this was a promising omen. what else would be of this day in all its glory? after an hour of prayer to allah, the creator of all worldly sarcasm, poli eyed the facinating glimour of an illustrious musical instrument and began to fiddle. little did he know that this day his right brain activity would prevail upon his intellectually lacking but tyranical left brain. a strum! and then another!! a strum strum here! a strum strum there! a strum strum here and there! a strum strum everywhere! the sound filled the heavens and the 5000 square centimeters of polis expansive cozmos.
what next?!? truly, what next? and yet this tale is hard to believe, considering the stupendous events in only one morning's time, there was to be more.
his duty as an agent was not to be forgetten nore overlooked. he took a deep breath and heard the beconning of his purpose. he cautiously entered the "chat room". the observation of humans lost in the cybernetic wilderness of the world wide web was his mission and his specialty. the darkend landscape of the virtual land was cruel and miskene, this land had no laws and no meaning; dreaded be the land of yahoo.
"any teenager can get one at walmart with no paperwork" said a shadowy figure.
"your psychotic neighbours could have a toaster right now, in their homes!" the figure blurted.
poli began jotting down his report. this conversation was not new to him. nore was it shocking. a heartless female cumming by the name of melancholy broke into quivering tears, the fear was upon her. and poli knew why.
"asshole!" she screamed. the intence vibrations of her sold and useless aura radiated thru poli's liquid crystal screen. poli made accurate notes. Doc Palazzolo was a very demanding leader. a peice like this could mean an increment in poli's medication, and poli was completely awear, he knew it all too well.
"there are no laws regulating the use or accesibility of toasters! the laws in our country serve only the producers of death and distruction" the figure contiued.
poli did not take a long time to understand. the intrinsic code was old news. he continued transcribing the communication.
"not a single regulation stipulating them, any teenager, comunist or homosexual pinko between the ages of 12 and 20 can get their hands on this material in less than an hours time" .. only days before hand a newly wed had been the victim of brutal agressions by a male toaster claiming to be her husband. the situation was like a ticking bomb, both fragile and unpredictable. "Doctah P will be pleased", poli thought to himself.... his veins quivvered, his mouth watered, and the plastic bell around his neck began to ring like a voice from heaven. he faithfully recorded all of his physical sensations into his report as was required. he even added a disturbing mental episode regarding cindy laupers intimate garments.
our hero concluded his report and steped slowly away from his interactive terminal. he looked deeply into his toaster and laid back in a haze of satisfaction. his work was not yet done. but his goal had been achieved. another subversive had been identifyde, the full report was pending examination.
he sighed and fell into darkness.
only a faint cry was heard in the distance...
"who was that masked man?"

to be continued.

the last week has been almost revolutionary for my self esteem and general train of thought.
i owe this to close friends who took the time to reply to my e-mails and general whining :)
thanks to elysha, jen, shmuel, craig, sarah, shannon and jasa for being so incredibly supportive whitout even trying.

well, my creative energy has been low for a very long time. probably a side effect of maliciously low self esteem. in the last 4 years ive probably played guitar for about 5 or six hours. my constant self criticism and rigorous comparison to others has lead me to completely discredit myself. to put things in a more simple and relative manner, trying to be liked by others instead of loving myself for who i am has ruined my life. this is something ive always been awear of but never been able to analyze or change. amplyfide by problems in everyday life ive almost lost every refference point from which i affirm my identiy.
every cloud however does have a silver lining! in this case i have the chance to start fresh and truly be myself for the first time in 22 years of social tribulation.
also, coming into contact with friends has given me the opertunity to grasp the things i like from my past and begin, slowly and rather painfully, to let go of the things that hurt.

new extreamly low-fi walkmen recordings of my musical rehabilitation are in the making, and a new found confidence will render them accessible on-line in the near future.

well... today has been a good day. only really shaddowed by an unusually large consumation of cigarettes. i hate smoking.i need to quit. but i guess its better than smoking a qaurter ounce of pot everyday. or no.. wait, theres nothing better than smoking a quarter ounce of pot everyday, fuck that.

anyways, a short re cap on the last four years of my life for those who care.

i came to italy. i worked in france. i went to school in a little town called barolo and worked in alba as an extra most nights. not happy with that school, i moved to veneria, a suburb of torino, and began a new school there the next year. inbetween schools i worked my ass off at a restaurant with 350 seats and 2 cooks (i was one of them). the new school year was to be promising, but not willing to give up my job and consequent experience i continued working nights, 6 hours of school and 13 hours of work everyday, on saturday an sunday i didnt have school tho, so only 13 hours. after having strange love stories with 35 year olds waitresses and emotionally destructive relationships at work i got a new job at a fancy shamcy restaurant in pino torinese where i live ( the richest area of italy), the chef there was only a year older than i, and listend to obnoxious ganstah rap, twas also one of the dirtiest kitchens ive ever seen, so after 2 months i started working in a 4 star hotel near asti called la locanda del sant uffizio, the most esigent and precise kitchen ive ever seen. they managed to sell an egg with two slices of white truffle for 50$ usd. needless to say, it had to be a perfect egg. for the first time in my "career" i found myself extreamly out of place, completely unable to socialize and a strange clumbsiness at every move. i thought i just needed more time to adapt, but looking back, it was the begining of a very serious breakdown. a month later i couldnt get out of bed. i couldnt make it to school anymore and i coudlnt even feed myself on a regular basis. i was forced to move back in with my father and consequently to ingest an extream amount of psychotropic drugs (flouxetine, valproate and xanax) that kept me in bed and "stupid" for over a year. in the mean time i met a very good psychologist which i still see regularly twice a week.
shes wonderful. after the third atrempt at suicide in a year i was taken off the medications, and sinse then ive been getting better everyday, tho i have strong symptoms of agorophobia and rarly leave the house. now im in a govt job program that should find me a good placment in an "adecuate" environment within the next few months. today its been almost two years since my last job, and im begining to feel the will to live again. thanks to effective psychotherapy and also thanks to my friends, tho they dont know, and probably wouldnt understand why.

well, thats 4 years in a nut shell.

first post.


i feel like my eyes are about to pop out of my head, they seem to strive towards the creation of a direct interface with my laptop, move right in and cut out the middle man. I cant go on like this, if they keep it up much longer ill have them out. they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, bare witness, my gentle reader, you can have them. this being the only testament to my will, the day I no longer serve them they are yours. not to bore you before the completion of my first and yet only paragraph, the whole episode makes me think far back, the day I found my fathers first contraceptive afloat in the downstairs toilet of our suffered grey house in Washington. glass frying pans, rainbow sherbert, the next door neighbours home renovations that enabled me to built some strange form of tree house that I never actually fit into, my fathers fruit trees, the old after church Sunday golf going folks in tweed leisure suits and retirement home regalia that whistled, hands in pockets, raising their heads only to keep from ploughing over the next passer by on their way to brunch; that’s what all this was like, and tho many may doubt tis of the up most importance; few are the passers by that don’t catch a cold or a politically correct viral mutation of Ebola. to this day the whole state still makes me sick, not to mention the paranoia of huge cars, fast food chains and people who shop for exercise or consider a football game an excursion thru nature. it was the first day of my first days, my new life, little did I know that 12 years and 200pounds later id be reduced to such a state, 20 000 kms from home and counting the hours till the airing of a 20 minute Japanese cartoon that is the very constitution of my current state of consciousness.