I'm tired. Just dead beat tired.

@настроение: Halt die Klappe, dick Kopf!

---

One of my good friends might have cancer of ovaries. I don't know what that would mean for her, but I hope that it's just a scare and that nothing is wrong. I just hope that we are all immortal and that things like this will never ever happen. I want it to be this way because the look in her eyes was that of unutterable horror. I can't say that I know what she's going through, but I can only tell her to not count the possibility that nothing is wrong. Science has been wrong before.



I've read a story by Ms. O'Connor. She's well known for her short strange stories. But what I read just made me think of mortality of people. We always expect to come back, but what if we don't? What if when I go to Ukraine I will never see the living day light? That possibility is as alive and beating anything else of this world. I wonder why we think of ourselves as invincible. Because in the end, we are like the gentle petals of a cheery bloosom, so easy to be blown away with another gust of spring wind.



Howl, two days ago.

@настроение: Revenge comes nearer than one may think. I came back

---

I used to write some beautiful things. I used to be fascinated with lights and shadows, instead of focusing on how to reproduce them. I used to be able to look at the world with open eyes and hope, instead of wait for one disaster after another. I used to be naive, and I miss this naivness that ruled my heart. I could write this:



The other moved away, leaving no trace of warmth under his fingertips. Coldness entered his mind as the storm of emotions subsided. He was standing alone. Dan was walking away. And yet his words still buzzed in Constantine’s ear. Why couldn’t he understand that Constantine love to teach that he couldn’t take the risk unsure of the future? For all he knew, Dan could back down at any moment leaving his standing alone, just like right now. The wind went right through him, penetrating the flesh and bone .No, Constantine is not going to run after him. The other needed time to think. He needed time to think. The pace of life was too fast. It was spinning out of control and soon it will shatter. He needed time. An angel needed his peace away from the tempting demon. The young man blinked few times, counting the seconds. He would wait for Dan to walk out of the park, before he would make his move. The car was still parked in the school’s parking lot. He would walk slowly, because wave after wave of nauseating pain hit him each time he tried to run. He needed time. He needed peace.



Without any strain! But now I can't. I'm dry and bitter and older.This bitterness is everywhere. When I look into my own eyes, I see the bitterness lodged in my very soul and burning away at the sugar coated dreams of better life. Things won't get better. They will only get worse. Although, I am no longer interested in death, life escapes me. What is life? What do we strive for? Money? House? Family? Are they so important that we tear ourselves to pieces and lie in the face of all to preserve something called 'pride'? I used to be able to shut my eyes on the fake lemon smiles. It was that time when I used to be a child but wanted to be an adult. The human kind is never suficed. And we never shall be.

@настроение: When I said 'I hate you', I really meant...'I hate you'

---

I'm just biding my time, waiting for hours to elapse and dissolve into nothigness of my memory.Times moves to slow, but only in relativity to what I perceive as fast, therefore really, time doesn't move at all. Does time exist? As far as I'm concerned, time is a none existent assumption to make sense of the universe. We learned how to measure it, and yet are baffled as to what it is. Similicities escape us where as the complicated inner workings of the surrounding are easy to decipher. God had a great sense of humor if he exists.



Lately, I've been under the weather, but I'm afraid it's because of my faulty brain, because everything is going g-g-great. Dad is in Germany or Greece, I'm not sure. Mom has been much nicer and school is... well, school is dragging because at the end of the week my dream will finally come true. I cn hardly contain the excitment because it's stiffling my heart and smothering sense from my words. And I rant... a lot. But, you know. It shouldn't be any other way. Without the boring common place every day happenings, my excitment would amount to nothing.

@настроение: I want raw meat.

---

Oprah: Und wie alt ist Nina?

Oprah (thinking) Mein Gott! Sie ist so hesslich. Meine Augen! Sie verbrennen!

Vater: Ich habe keine Ahnung. Wie alt ist sie, dick Kopf?

Leo: Vater! Ich heiЯe Leo und Nina is sechzehn Jahre alt.

Vater: Sie ist nicht alt genug fьr dich.

Leo: Halt die Klappe! Ich liebe Nina aber du bist einen schleschten Einfluss auf mich.

BG: Das ist schlimm. Ich brauche mehr Leute.

Vater: Was? Du musst mir danken. Du wirst mir danken wenn du echt Nina sehen. (turns to audience) Ihr wisst dass sie fьr mein Sohn ( wie heiЯt du, wieder?) schlimm ist!

Leo: Ich hasse dich! (stands up to fight)

Vater: Verlleicht, aber du warst ein Unfallt. (start fighting)

BG: Ich will meine Mutti! I will meine Mutti! Irgenjemand helf mich!

Oprah: Ugh, blцte Manne. (gets up) Ruhe. Ruhe.

Bodyguard runs away.

Oprah: Ich soll besse Leute nechste Zeit finden. (stops Leo and Vater)

Oprah: Jetzt. Wir mьssen eine Lцsung fur dieses Problemen finden.

Leo: Ich habe eine Idee. Ich werde mit Nina nach Las Vegas weg laufen.(runs away)

Vater: Nein! Komm zurьck, dick Kopf!



Follow up.



Leo und Nina ging nach Las Vegas. Sie sind verheiratet, aber in letzter Zeit sie sind geschieden. Leo lebt allein.



Wir konnen nicht der Vater, eine groЯe Nervensдge, finden nach dieser Programme.









I feel sad, oh so sad that I want to cry. I haven't cried in month. Life sucks when nothing makes you smile. Is this depression? Nah, just my regular check up with God. He likes to mess around with me sometimes. Bastard...

@настроение: And all that was left were ashes.

---

I make History

Today, December 15th marks the day that Toxic Exposure met and wrote first song. Life cannot be any better.

@музыка: Seize the Day by Toxic Exposure

---

Океан Ельзи

Я iду додому



Я бачу навколо камiння i квiти,

Мiста i вокзали, i сонце i снiг...

Я буду чекати, я буду хотiти,

Iх бачити знову, i знову до них!



Я iду додому!

До тебе додому!

Де очi знайомi i завжди новi.



Я iду додому!

До тебе додому!

Якi ж вони довгo, цi ночi i днi.

А знаiш, буваe, коли я не можу

Пiднятися далi в полонy оков.

Але вiд чуваю, невидима сила

Мене пiдiймаe i знову i знов!

I'm tired of writting shit. I want go curl into a corner and sleep. Why won't time pity me?



Another death.

@настроение: Death is liberal. It doesnt care who its victims are....

---

I count minutes to save myself. An idea for a poem is killing my head. I need to sleep. Too bad sleep only makes me impatient. Why won't the week end already?

@настроение: How can I describe you using alliterations? Oh yeah, biggity-biggity-bitch.

---

Seems like she's every where now and we try to stiffle the living memory of her. Selfishness prevails.





Red Dress



The very first time she saw it hanging loosely on the shoulders of a petite mannequin in the middle of the store, she knew she wanted it. Nothing in her life was ever as clear as that want for the red dress. She didn’t know why and didn’t care why, but she just knew that she wanted it more than anything. Even looking at the price, with all its zeroes, didn’t dull her want. It was too strong. The first time her fingers brushed against the soft fabric and eyes took in the play of shades, there was no singular doubt in her mind that she was meant to have that red dress. So she bought it.



The cashier looked at her through the thickly dusted eyelashes, a little sneer on the cheaply painted lips, but she couldn’t do anything. This mutt would get the dress, where a beauty like her would have to gladly wrap it up and say ‘have a nice day’ through the clenched teeth. The woman never hated her life more than when the red fabric was hidden by the card board box and taken away in hard-worn beat up fingers of the outsider. The woman only asked herself why.



But she didn’t care because she got what she wanted even though that something depleted her savings account considerably. She’ll get more work eventually and replenish it. The red dress was one in a million, but money was a thing easily earned by the young. There was no problem there.



She ran to her apartment, in the down town area of the crumbling city through the old neighborhoods, never noting the increasing number of boarded up windows or broken glass on the cracked asphalt or eyes of stray cats curiously following the dashing young creature. Up to the fourth floor and down right in the hall she flew, her thickly muscled legs carrying her few steps at a time. Her eyes caught the flicker of fading scratched metal on the wooden door with a number and a letter to remind her that she lived in 48 C, like she always lived as long as she could remember. Bursting through the door, she ran for the bedroom, fingers nervously tucking on the strings of the box. It fell away noiselessly, tumbling to the rotting wooden floor, curling around nothing. She jumped on the bed, tearing away at the light feathery paper to see her prized possession, the red dress. She felt her heart thump. Hands gingerly cupped the material and pressed it against her flushed cheek and for the first time in many years, Kaso allowed herself to cry.



She vowed to never leave it behind.

@настроение: That's a butt buster!

---

Death Brushes By

I don't know how to put this, so I'll just trhough it out bluntly. A girl from my school died this Saturday in her sleep. Why? No one knows but the reasons range from cocaine over dose ( she took drugs ) to suicide. I don't believe it was suicide. The last Friday I saw her, she was laughing and smiling and talking to her friends. I didn't know her that well. Acutally, I didn't know here at all, besides her face. But now, as I think more about it, I will never see her face again in my life. She is the first to go down from our generations and others will follow her. There is fear of death in all of us because each of us stared at it through the eyes of the beloved. I will never get a chance to talk to her or greet her or strike a conversation. Anotehr chance to change the world has been let go with a butterfly kiss of death. I feel sad. Death likes to play with us too much. Tusche death. Tusche.

@настроение: Rest in Peace, Camil.

---

Name



“Now, Mr. Sherman, you must understand the seriousness of your work.”

Outside, the wind howls. I hear it clearer than the bass voice of the man in front of me. And I smoke, because it’s the only way to keep myself from howling like the wind, but for a different reason. My work. Some say I need to retire. I’m too jumpy and too quick with my gun. They say that if it wasn’t for the pills I’ll be raising hell with the rebels. But I’m not and I won’t and most of the time I can’t understand what they say, so I smile and walk away, because this is my way of dealing with things. I walk away. But my work. I’ve heard this before. My work is as universal as breathing itself. It’s a cycle of life, my line of business, where seriousness is top priority and where time is the only true capital. I listen to the wind, taking out the cigarette to let the smoke pass through my lips instead of cussing. The weatherman promised storm as he cheerily asked his blond blue-eyed companion if her plans would be affected. She said no. She always said no, even behind the cameras when he asked her again out for dinner. I know her kind. She’s waiting for a prince instead of taking her chance with the stocky thirty-year-old man. That’s life I guess. It begins to rain.

But he doesn’t care for the storm outside. He only cares about my work and that’s why he calls me Mr. Sherman. But I know down deep in the recess of his pompous mind he calls me ‘scum.’ I can’t very well blame him. I am scum not to realize the seriousness of my work because here I am starring at the window instead of the photo of my new assignment. They all look the same, with those same blood shot sleepless eyes and horror permanently stuck on their faces. Yes, they all look the same.

I hate the rain and I hate this man even more. His hairy knuckles rap on the table to bring my attention. I ignore him just like the rain ignores the fact that this is the middle of February. Mr. Sherman. Mr. Sherman. Mr. Sherman. Really, it has a nice ring to it, but it’s not mine. I am nameless in the eyes of each beholder and this Mr. Sherman is just a left over of the rotting corpse that was once my father. He also tried a hand at this business, but cancer got the best of him where bullets didn’t. Sometimes I hope I’ll be as lucky.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll keep the brat safe,” I say in turn, turning my eyes to look at the big fat face of the president of my agency. He doesn’t blink and doesn’t skip a beat to let the smoke curl near my face to hide my smile.

“Not a brat. If it were a brat I wouldn’t have to send three of my best agents, Mr. Sherman,” he informs me, his index finger fixed to the page of the contract. I stick the cigarette in my mouth to stop myself. Another second and I would scream bloody murder. He huffs, looks me over and stamps my name away for two years to trade my time for something called money. I get a fuzzy feeling in my guts again. He never learns. He always signs away my father… not me, not Imp.

@настроение: Remember, the gun is poiting right at your heart.

---

Something awesome happened. And By awesome I don't mean by just going out into the high way while screaming on top of my lungs for freedom. No, my friend Be and I decided to start a band. We still don't know the name but it might be 'Toxic Exposure', with a little skull as the mascot. I like it, because it has ramrants of old school rock but a modern gist to it. But a band isn't a band without music, right? Well, Be is awesome at guitar and composing music. Alas, all I can do is sing and play on violin. As much as I like shaping definition of rock, violin would have to wait. So, I'll be singing. We already have a start, Be will start converting one of my poems into a song. She's awesome at it, so I have no worries. I don't know why I'm doing this. I think just for the hell of it. As a little kid I wanted to sing, so here's my chance to relive those damn dreams. Life has a funny way of doing that. I laugh.



A dream is kind of bothering me, making me draw. It's kinda fantasy crossover with mafia genre. It's like a story of three body guards of a young emperor's son, woman Kaso, a man Imp, and a demon Zirkil. When I work out the details, I'll post the first series of little sketches about them.Until then, it'll just bother the hell out of me.

@настроение: I like it. I'm not gonna crack.

---

And what a multitude of things it hides.





The question only brought laugher to the man’s gray eyes. He weighted the likeliness of Sullivan murdering him for saying that the younger male was adorable. In the end, John decided not to risk it. After all, there was such a promising future ahead. He swallowed down the comment, letting it diffuse into the general buzz in his head. The corners of the mouth quivered with mocking smile. But a shadow of surprise passed over the man’s features as Sullivan’s hand slipped from his hip. His lover sure was eager, but eager being a bit of an understatement. And nothing else mattered. John catching a flicker of the blue eyes found himself wishing that there was more between him and the owner of the deep sapphire orbs than simple lust. But that was not the way things worked and it didn’t matter.

John kissed the crook of Sullivan’s neck with a little lopsided smile, “You’re not alone.” He walked out of the office. The apartment was silent safe for the hollow steps on the wooden floor. Although the feeling of need and hunger grew weaker the last few minutes, they didn’t all together abandon him. Sullivan’s eagerness and lack of hesitation certainly were working to rekindle and let free the lustful beast in John. He lingered at the door of the bedroom, shaking his head in amusement. Did he seriously started having sex in his office? It was bizarre and somewhat kinky, yet undeniably sexy. This would certainly not be erased from his memory until old age.

@музыка: you know ( my recent disease) by Plasma

---

Today was a good day, although a bit strange. I compared notes with a friend of mine, B, about life in this country. I told him that he missed out on some good times back in the past. He shrugged and said that he only regrets never learning swear words. I said that if my parents weren't such pricks about cussing, I would have taught him so new ones. He only laughed and pointed out that his accent is too terrible and that he shouldn't attempt. I agreed, hiding my own hideous accent. Life changes everything, even my tone of voice.

My cold eyed winter comes again

with gusts of unforgiving wind

with bill board smiles from afar.

It comes for warmth of life to claim,

The splinter's bitterness in words.

Oh how it chills the darkest nights

and like a phantom corners stalks

my cold eyed seamstress of white snow.

Ice towers, blocking path to light,

it fools with rainbows that we're happy

that I am full in its dark clutch

that I know nothing but its touch.

No more! No more I say! Don't dabble!

This winter will not chill my flame

No running, but embrace the fiend

and burn it with my love and hatred.

No more of gloom. No more of quiet.

Farewell the queen of broke hearts.

Hello my darling youthful spring.

by me after spending an hour on the snow and ice

@настроение: Die, emo, die!

---

I had a discussion with Jesus today about importance of Global Warming. He said that 'Warming' is a good thing because then we would be able to harvest Siberia. E pointed out that 'Global Warming' gets its bad rep from the name. I mean 'global' sounds pretty bad to an idiot, right? I argued back that if we would have Global Warming, then Chinese would invade the Russian Asian border and reduce the country to only its western side... which would be really bad, right? I mean, who would take seriously a country that's NOT nearly 1/6th of the Earth's surface. See, my point is exactly that. Russia won't be able to bully any of the Eastern European countries. Therefore, Russia should try to prevent global warming at all costs. Jesus gave another good idea: penguine farming.It's a good idea. Those birds are pretty fat, so we can make I don't know.. bacon out it. Not only will we benefit from MORE food but also we might stop global warming because it'll be in our economical interest.



I don't know why I read smut. It's so bad and horrible and Un-Christian like... but at least I get to pass the time.



"Something's telling me the same thing," Sullivan said with an amused smile. He could feel his own adrenaline rushing, and his hands were shaking slightly in anticipation. Although John probably thought so, Sullivan had not been lying before. He had been so close to losing his control and begging for more in front of that restaurant that it was almost frightening. He never, ever lost control.



Sullivan's hands moved to the sides of John's face as their lips mashed together. The kiss was perfectly vicious and passionate; Sullivan couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that, and he liked it much more than he would perhaps care to admit.



"You are," he said as he broke the kiss a good few minutes later, completely breathless, "...entirely..." he nipped gently at John's neck and shoulder before beginning to pull John's shirt over his head, "...too clothed."

by Person I don't Know

@настроение: Love sucks... and sometimes it blows, depending on the position.

---

I smell possibility of impeachment in our fun little club. As a vice-president, I am impartial. As a human being, I'm filled with glee and rainbow ponies. Whatever.

@настроение: When you are ready, I will surrender

---

S is being an ass, wouldn't give me ch. 12. What a bastard! Anyway, I forgot the mention that I told T to shut it about E. Although, this was like ripping my guts out, I think it went rather well. And if it didn't.. well, then, T has something to talk about to our people without my knowledge. So in the grand scheme of things, it's a win-win situation.



We're planning to do another Saturday fun night/day/morning. Maybe we'll go Christmas shopping or something. It'll be fun... or as fun as shopping can get. At least this time I wouldn't hear my parents complaining that I don't get enough color into my diet. I know there are more colors than green, blue, and black (like red) but they don't fit my pessimistic/cynical style. For the record, I am NOT goth. Thank you very much.

Моральный кодекс - В твоих глазах



Фотограф снимал портрет, выстраивал перспективу

Менял свои объективы, искал необычный свет

Таксист устремился в парк - на улице нет клиентов

В кассете порвалась лента, за окнами снегопад



В твоих бездонных глазах есть мудрости искра детства

В твоих солёных слезах есть всё что сказало сердце

В твоих бездонных глазах сто тысяч оттенков разных

В твоих золотых словах есть тихая грусть и праздник



Скрипач натянул струну, смычок свой наканифолил

На скрипке любовь исполнил, затем подошёл к окну

Банкир примерял пиджак, обмыслив считал банкноты

Его раздражал скрипач, особенно по субботам



В твоих бездонных глазах есть мудрости искра детства

В твоих солёных слезах есть всё что сказало сердце

В твоих бездонных глазах сто тысяч оттенков разных

В твоих золотых словах есть тихая грусть и праздник



Художник писал пейзаж для друга, не для продажи

Его привлекал кураж и выставки-вернисажи



В твоих бездонных глазах есть мудрости искра детства

В твоих солёных слезах есть всё что сказало сердце

В твоих бездонных глазах сто тысяч оттенков разных

В твоих золотых словах есть тихая грусть и праздник

@настроение: Casual molestation.

---

Madness. “It’s utter madness, John! What the fuck are you doing?” suddenly the inner voice awoke to find its host in the most controversial position it ever had the displeasure to awaken to. But John cared little for the noisy thing and simply enjoyed the moment. Well, enjoy would be too little of a word to truly describe what sort of feeling whirled and spun in him. Not a singe of regret clouded his mind. There was no tomorrow, according to his calculation. Today would last forever, because today was meant to stay forever just as he was meant to lie on the top of a truck and be kissing his student. This was fate at its finest and cruelest. He took in the sweetness of Sullivan’s mouth, savoring the instances before breath would become a necessity once more. The other’s fingers tangled in his hair and he only wanted more. It was madness and more, madness and more, that continued to twist and turn like a pair of dancing snakes.

Even the thunder and lightning could not awaken the man from the slumber of his logic. And the more Sullivan pressed, the farther away John drifted from his original position. “John, god damn it! What happened to keeping everything separated? Hm?” the voice would not give up but continue its meaningless banter. Wind picked up speed, swishing past them. Its voice was loud in the man’s ears, at times blocking out the rhythmic pitter-patter of the rain and booming growl of the thunder. This was heaven. In contradiction to anyone ever saying anything about paradise, John would later reflect upon this moment of spontaneous insanity and speak of this as the true freedom the people seek.





Writing keeps me sane where silence slowlt kills me. Long live the written word!

@музыка: Rape Me by Nirvana

---

I had an absolute BLAST today hanging out with friends. We decided to have fun in the snow today. We had two groups, the Werewolves and the Vampires. Unfortunatly, the Vampire won. Oh well, here's THE DOCUMENT OF AGREEMENT.



We have made our mark of bloodshed, and now have come to terms of agreement. By uniting the Werewolves, the Vampires, and T we will become the most feared empire, known to the dead and undead. With this blood pack we will become one nation under Marlyn Manson, indivisible with slavery of human excluding T and people we can tolerate, and injustice for some.



Then we signed the whole bussiness, ending our hour long war against one another. We had some casualties, like T (who was her own nation) got some scratches from the ice on her face...oh well, no one else seemed to comaplain. I told T to back off on talking about E. How the hell can I get over my obsessions when E is always brought up? People suck... and some blow.



Oh, need to remind myself to tell A to stop sending me all of this damn porn. It's so badly written that I just end up hitting my head against the wall.. which hurts.

@настроение: I can't believe they don't make high heels in men's sizes!

---

Under impression that putting a picture of Marlyn Manson is .. scandalous. What the hell? Just because the man is a satanist doesn't mean anything about me. Although, it could be noted that for some time I believed myself to be of that religious direction. Now? Now I have enough balls to resregard idea of a higher being, be it Satan or God. Some, never grow out of it. I don't need some one to take blame for MY mistakes. I am a human, hear me roar.

@настроение: Snow Day