tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56882392011-04-22T02:58:58.751+02:00irreality. unsolicited mental abuse. the deranged heart mangeling story of a boy and his blog.alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comBlogger291100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1096400377412483942004-09-28T21:34:00.000+02:002004-09-28T21:39:37.413+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1093965779087733962004-08-31T16:11:00.000+02:002004-08-31T17:22:59.086+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1093770818686429992004-08-29T10:13:00.000+02:002004-08-29T11:13:38.686+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1093605333968130872004-08-27T13:12:00.000+02:002004-08-27T13:15:33.966+02:00

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.

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1093600274127304592004-08-27T10:27:00.000+02:002004-08-27T11:51:14.126+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1093445672923112062004-08-25T16:18:00.000+02:002004-08-25T16:54:32.923+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1090247071593411292004-07-19T15:58:00.000+02:002004-07-19T16:24:31.593+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1080390078923458922004-03-27T13:21:00.000+01:002004-03-27T13:23:51.716+01:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1069868959617516132003-11-26T18:49:00.000+01:002003-11-26T18:49:50.890+01:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1069863775148427362003-11-26T17:22:00.000+01:002003-11-26T17:23:26.716+01:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1069753749050232342003-11-25T10:49:00.000+01:002003-11-25T10:49:38.996+01:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1069683676066727122003-11-24T15:21:00.000+01:002003-11-24T15:21:45.560+01:00

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.

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1065175347330303412003-10-03T12:02:00.000+02:002003-10-03T12:02:27.440+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1064938270722465702003-09-30T18:11:00.000+02:002003-09-30T18:11:10.750+02:00

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.

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1063102635785569132003-09-09T12:17:00.000+02:002003-09-09T12:17:15.793+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1063006192265171442003-09-08T09:29:00.000+02:002003-09-08T09:29:52.320+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1062409741417890682003-09-01T11:49:00.000+02:002003-09-01T11:52:53.730+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1062004240005227532003-08-27T19:10:00.000+02:002003-08-27T19:10:40.156+02:00

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.

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1061795681343215962003-08-25T09:14:00.000+02:002003-08-25T09:14:41.403+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1061673340563098892003-08-23T23:15:00.000+02:002003-08-23T23:15:40.590+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1061570482492486192003-08-22T18:41:00.000+02:002003-08-22T18:41:22.436+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1061495308097115352003-08-21T21:48:00.000+02:002003-08-21T21:48:28.063+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1061375015905567112003-08-20T12:23:00.000+02:002003-08-20T12:26:01.116+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1061289879415237602003-08-19T12:44:00.000+02:002003-08-19T12:44:39.416+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1061252409466239912003-08-19T02:20:00.000+02:002003-08-19T02:20:09.516+02:00

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/

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1061154737336974512003-08-17T23:12:00.000+02:002003-08-17T23:27:26.440+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1061126693898645152003-08-17T15:24:00.000+02:002003-08-17T15:24:53.930+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1061063440459913172003-08-16T21:50:00.000+02:002003-08-16T21:50:40.363+02:00

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.

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5688239.post-1061048255040522972003-08-16T17:37:00.000+02:002003-08-16T17:37:35.050+02:00

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

alessandrohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15128591577373674292noreply@blogger.com