Messages

Cancer, then.

I'm shocked they haven't already burned down everyone involved in bitcoins. Maybe they're just waiting for the point where generating a bitcoin costs less than it's worth.

In the US, we have a long and shitty history of taking down any alternative currency, as far as I know Norton I was the only one who got away with it.

Feign mono, stay in bed for two weeks.

Would be funnier if it was less like the truth

She has a stomach-butt!

I believe it's called a "gunt"

I didn't see clearchannel in that list, they own a ridiculous percentage of radio stations and billboard advertising.

8th grade is actually the sweet spot when trying to communicate with the general public. What's everyone bitching about?

Hmm.  I still don't see it.  And it IS false, unless you've got some medium of transmission.

There's obviously a method of transmission: language, art, and observation.

Core Beliefs, from Franz Fanon (QUOTE NOT KOPYLEFT, BACKGROUND NOT ENTIRELY KOPYLEFT EITHER)
http://imgur.com/9wSeTqT
A Mirror, from Grant Morrison's Invisibles (QUOTE NOT KOPYLEFT)
http://imgur.com/zG2Swen
Toxicity, from the BiP (BACKGROUND NOT KOPYLEFT, never got a response from that guy, and believe me I tried)
http://imgur.com/fiurQYO

image on the last one from this guy: http://surrealdeamer.deviantart.com/art/Obligatory-gas-mask-177825793

I have no idea what's going to happen with the seven gmail accounts I maintain. Hopefully it keeps 'em all separate like they ought to be.

I want to make it clear that I feel limits are a positive creative force here. I think the above is possible but not desirable. We need to recognise what limits or categories we belong to and thus take control over them to the extent possible; but not just destroy them.

Oh, I was definitely not saying that it was desirable. Kind of the opposite, in fact.

In life we could be limitless like this : refuse to define our name, our identity, our gender, our purpose.

OMG THIS.

I've been trying to get down some stuff on the subject of identity for the book I've been working on and haven't been able to get anything down, but this is the core of it. I've spent the past four years Anonymous. I answer to pseudonyms more comfortably than to my given name. My clothes are costumes and hand-me-downs. I look in the mirror and I see nothing. Okay, not NOTHING nothing, but just a meatsack, unrelated to who I am. The face is strange, angles wrong. I don't know myself in photographs.

I did it to myself, I know. Consumed too many weird ideas too fast, filled up on the mental equivalent of magic mushrooms instead of eating my peas like a good girl. Stared in the mirror in the dark, til my face vanished and I saw the monster beneath.

I see the walls, see the bars, know them for what they are and what they deny me and what they protect me from. But me? The thing pacing inside this elaborate psychic construction of memory and shame and chemicals? It's a gaping void. A tiny black hole, self-contained, around which my consciousness orbits desperately attempting to weave a narrative structure around it, to close the wound in space.  But the inexorable gravity of the void sucks it all in, spaghettifying identities to the breaking point and leaving nothing but radiation.


Huh. I guess that's a pretty good metaphor for self-centeredness. I should probably cut that out.
Thanks, guys.

I'd have sex with THAT OUTFIT

What, this one?

[it]

"Okay: I guess this is it."

a lot less depressing if you count in the fact that it's Ragged Robin in the leather babe outfit saying it.

I've got a trifold template set up now, so if people put down the ACTUAL WORDS they want on these I can womp something together quickly. Don't have the time right now to write content myself.