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The Cracked Looking Glass

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If... [16 Apr 2006|02:35am]

[ mood | *headache* ]

Have you ever wondered where you would be if you never met the following people?


I am the FIRST unionite and met Stephanie first, then I met Josh, then Ryan, then Shaun, then Will, then Kevin.

If I never met Steph, would I have met Kevin? SO if you think about the order in which you met the above named people, would you have met the last person IF you did not meet the first person?

Just a question. To answer my own question: Yes, if I never met Steph I don't think I would've met Josh and everyone after. Personally, Steph is the one who technically invited me to hang out with everyone else.

I wonder who I WOULD be hanging out with if I never met Steph...

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Exposition - Elliot [01 Jan 2006|10:01pm]
Strength is in compassion, not in force. People think that helping those around you is a sign of weakness - that one must truly stand on his own in order to gain real strength.

These are the words of fools - men who don't know the true meaning of strength.

To show campassion is much more difficult path that copmplete oppression. To give of oneself not for some cause, but for those around you. To protect not on a rhetoric or for the self, but to carry those who, for that moment can't carry themselves. THAT is strength.

Or should I say, not strength so much as volition. Because strength would be the will in which one carries out this task, wouldn't it? If you want to help people yet have not the confidence, the will, the sheer desire to do so, then aren't all your charities merely empty wishes? Maybe it's the first way then - that compassion IS strength, and will is volition. Of course - by mere definition violition IS will, isn't it?

I don't know - lately, I've been working in the First Division and questioning. Wondering...are we really helping anyone? I was told we'd be weeding out corruption, saving humanity behind the scenes...but more and more I feel as if I'm fighting for the ambition of one. For his agendas and his vision of utopia for people, with him conveniently placed on top. THAT is not strength - to force the ideal of perfection on those who may not accept it. That is conformity; subjugation.


Though who do I trust to bring these worries to? Ryx, Jade, and Rei have been here as long as I - they may be able to offer some insight. It's strange; I can't sit by and be a tool any longer, if for a cause I don't believe in. If I can't be used for what is right, I refuse to be used.
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The Real Deal [12 Dec 2005|11:40pm]
So I figure I need to shoot this by the Contingency and figure out what you guys think.

Long story short, I started an artist group on campus to get other LB artists off their asses and to work. This has been a good idea - up until one of the girls showed interest in me. This would not be a bad thing except 1) she's insane and 2) she doesn't believe in herself and lacks the maturity to do anything positive for her life, thus making no.1 a HUGE problem.

Long story short, this is Em all over again and I see it a mile away.

So I tell her I'm not interested, that I'd rather be friends...but she's still quite...clingy. And I don't want her to think that she can make me like her that way, or that she can persist and wriggle her way into my affections. But by the same hand, I already told her once and if this is what I think it is (persistence), next time I'm gonna have to let her down HARD. And I already know a multitude of problems will come from that. But the girl's gotta learn and grow up, I suppose. And I know that I have genuine concern and care for her - just nothing downright romantic.

Then she finds my LJ. That's why you don't see my usual nonsense posting and musings.

Anywho, it's bugging the hell out of me and I know what to do...but I had to vent this one out. Blah.
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You just got hate crimed! [06 Dec 2005|08:41pm]

Broken Bottle Productions Part 3

“You guys are going to love this. They’re like, the best latkes you’ll ever eat.”
“Well, seeing as I don’t eat latkes often, that isn’t saying much.”
Melody opened the door to her apartment and ushered the two in.
“Excuse the mess,” said Melody. “We’re in the midst of cleaning and I just haven’t had time to tidy up the loose ends.”
“Oh come on, this place is practically spotless!” exclaimed the girl.
“My place is by far messier than yours could ever be,” laughed the guy.
“No kidding, you haven’t seen his place,” said the girl. “He has his junk piled on top of his junk.”
Melody laughed, “I guess I’m not that bad. Here, let me give you the nickel tour.”
She took them into the back area of the apartment. “This is my bedroom. Ooh, ahh. Amazing huh? Yeah, I’m a total nerd, if you haven’t already guessed.”
The girl laughed, “Oh my God, are those Care Bears? That’s awesome.”
“Hey,” said the guy, fake pouting. “There’s nothing wrong with Green Day. I’ve been a huge fan since the beginning.”
They all laughed and Melody continued the tour. The bathroom, the living room, the dining room; all of it got the treatment, complete with little stories and fun facts about their use over the years.
“So how about the kitchen? Let’s see where the magic happens.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Melody, biting her lower lip. “It’s kind of messy from last night. You know, we had a big dinner thing and there’s crap all over the place.”
“Give me a break,” said the guy. “Haven’t I already told you that you can’t surprise me one bit with how messy your place can be?”
They walked into the kitchen and the girl screamed while the guy gasped.
“What the hell?” he cried.
There, half-laying, half-sitting on the floor was a large man, shirt covered in dirt and crime, hair messy with one arm handcuffed to the oven. When the three entered the kitchen, the man looked up at them and croaked.
“Kill me. Please, God, kill me now.”
The two looked at Melody. “What the hell is going on!? Why is there a man chained to your stove?”
“Oh don’t be so melodramatic, he’s the cook. He’s going to make our latkes. Don’t worry, he’s just being silly, aren’t you?” She turned to the man and glared daggers through slit eyes. “Three of us are having latkes, now get to work.”
The man looked up at the two with pleading eyes. “Help. Please?”
Melody turned to the two and smiled brightly. “How about you guys go into the living room and sit down. I just have to talk to my friend Josh here. It’s okay, he’s just kidding around. That Josh, always the jokester. Isn’t that right, Josh?”
“Kill me. Put me out of my misery, please? Oh God, why? Why me?”
The two smiled nervously and went back into the kitchen.
“What the hell was that?” whispered the girl.
“You think I know?” replied the guy. “Maybe it’s just some practical joke.”
“That didn’t look like a joke to me.”
Suddenly, there was a quick succession of loud thuds, followed by one large whump. Then Melody came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a paper towel.
“There, all better. Dinner might be a little later than expected, but it takes time to grate the potatoes, right?”
“Y-yeah, I guess,” the girl smiled, nervously, edging toward the door. “You know, maybe we shouldn’t stay, I mean, I have work really early in the morning, and I’m so tired,” she stretched out her arms and yawned.
The guy peered closely at Melody. “What’s that one your shirt?”
“What?” She looked down at her shirt. There were a few small, red blotches. “Oh this? This is nothing. Um, tomato sauce. I got some on me in the kitchen.”
“But, it looks like blood,” he said. A soft whimpering could be heard from the kitchen that began to grow louder. Soon it was a low wail that sounded almost like a man crying.
“What’s that?” asked the girl. “Is that guy crying?”
“That’s what it sounds like,” said Melody, grinding her teeth. “But that rat bastard is going to stop it right now or I’ll give him something to cry about!” She was yelling and finally turned and stormed into the kitchen.
The two in the living room saw her go in, heard what sounded like the man crying, “No, no. Not that!” And then the clink of pots and a series of loud bangs, each followed by a cry from the man.
“Fuck this!” yelled the girl.
“Yeah, let’s go!” shouted the guy.
They fled from the apartment, the wails of the assailed man mixing with the violent shouts of Melody drowning their departure.
Suddenly, all of the noise stopped. Melody’s head popped out from the kitchen.
“Guys? Hey guys? Where’d you go?”
She walked into the living room and toward the front door. She was peering out.
“I guess they really did have to leave early.”
Josh walked up next to her, a handcuff dangling from his wrist.
“That sucks,” he said. “I didn’t even get to have my dramatic escape scene where I run off into the night howling like a maniac. They didn’t last nearly as long as the others.”
“I guess,” sighed Melody. “No fun at all.”
“So,” Josh said, turning to Melody. “What’s next?”
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Broken Bottle Productions Part 2 [02 Dec 2005|10:27am]

Josh stood in front of the rack at the Tower Records, hopelessly lost in indecision. Melody walked up behind him.
“Let’s go.”
“I don’t know which one to get.”
“Just pick one and let’s go.”
He put one of the CDs back and started walking in the opposite direction, away from the registers.
“Where are you going?”
“You said ‘let’s go.’ You didn’t say where. Now I’m going over here. Oh! Ace of Spades is on sale!”
“Ace of Base? Don’t tell me you’re going to buy that?”
“Not Ace of Base, Ace of Spades. You know, Motorhead?”
“Oh. Yeah, well you don’t need anything else. Let’s just go.”
As they walked down the aisle, Josh espied another CD he wanted.
“Goddamn it Melody.”
“Now I’m going to have to get this. All because you said ‘let’s go’ but didn’t specify where.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s all your fault!”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“No, I’m serious. You’re like, the worst platonic life partner ever.”
Melody laughed. “Shut up and pay for your shit.”
Josh walked up to a register and Melody got in line behind him.
“You’re a horrible, horrible person.”
The checker laughed and looked at Melody. “Well now, I don’t know if I can take any horrible people. There’s actually nobody in line on number 4 though.”
Melody walked over to the open check out line. “I’m going to hurt you Josh.”
“No you’re not.”
“Oh don’t think I won’t yell in the store. I’ll do it.”
The checker laughed and said, “Oh that’s fine, yell all you want. You can’t be much worse than the people who put on the headphones and sing along.”
Melody looked at him. “Oh, you don’t believe me do you?” She reached into her belt buckle and pulled out a pair of automatic pistols. “Maybe you’ll believe me now?”
She pulled the triggers and a spray of gunfire ripped through the store. Panicked customers dropped to the floor, screaming. Several weren’t quick enough to duck and were hit by stray bullets. The checker was cut in half by the initial burst. When the clips emptied, Melody released them and slammed in fresh ones.
“Loud enough now aren’t I, fucker? Huh? Now I’m real fucking loud. I told you let’s go Josh. Now fucking look!”
Guns reloaded she spun around with the guns held out, elbows locked, and fired at random. All the while, Josh just stood at the register, leaning on the counter and staring on.
The second clips finally ran out and Melody holstered the weapons. Josh looked at her with a cocked eyebrow.
“You done?”
“All right then.” He picked up his CDs and walked toward the door. Melody did the same. As they got outside of the record store, Josh stopped and looked up at the night sky. Melody stood next to him.
He slowly turned and angled his head down and smiled a wicked grin.
“You missed me.”
“Fuck you!” Melody punched his arm and they walked out from in front of the building.
“So,” Melody said, looking sideways at Josh. “Where next?”
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Broken Bottle Productions [29 Nov 2005|04:01pm]



“Aw hell na bitch! I know you ain’t fuckin’ wit’ my man!”
“You heard me, ho! I told you stay away from my boy!”
“Look, I don’t know what you’re…”
“Fuck you, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Hey, maybe if you were better to him, he wouldn’t have come crawling into my bed!”
“Oh hell no! I know you didn’t just say what I think you just said. It’s on now bitch.”
Melody grabbed the girl by the hair and slammed her head into the bar, shattering one glass and upending several others including a bowl of pretzels.
“That was for Paul!”
The girl sputtered. “But, his name was Randy.”
Melody slammed her head into the bar again. “And that one’s for Randy’s girl!”
The girl slumped to the floor, blood pouring down her face from a gash in her forehead. Melody stomped out of the bar, the rest of her group trailing, Josh grinning ear-to-ear.
“Holy shit, Mel! What the fuck was that all about?” said Stephanie.
“Bitch was fuckin’ with my man!”
“When did you get a boyfriend?” asked Kevin.
“She didn’t, but she’s drunk enough that she believed me when I said it,” and Josh burst out laughing.
“You’re fucking sadistic!” cried Kris.
“No he’s not.” They all turned to Melody. “I’m not even drunk.”
They all shouted, chasing Josh and Melody down the street.
“You sick fucks!”
“Have you no shame?”
“Think of the children!” They all stopped and stared at Shaun. “What? Think of them.”
They started chasing the two again, but they had already made it to the light and were waiting, holding their sides and grinning.
Josh broke the silence, “So where to next?”
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Just a Reminder [22 Nov 2005|11:21pm]
My security has been compromised, so I'm taking sanctuary here. Those of you who are the Real Friends from the Way Back When, you'll be the ones I always keep closest. For that fact, this place is the perfect place to hide out.
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That's what he said. [08 Oct 2005|09:18am]

[ mood | blank ]

"She can be a pain in the ass. This is true. She is also stubborn and make things more difficult than they really are. I mean, I can point out to her that something is wrong using the "check engine" light and it will take her two weeks, that's right, two weeks to handle it. I mean, we could have been stuck on the 22 on our way home because she ignored me when I pointed out to check her engine.

She's good to me though, at least I think she tries to be. We traveled a few distances just so she can get things done or whatever it is she does. It pains me sometimes, you know. I mean, we can drive as far as four hours just so I can rest for two hours and then head back on a two hour drive back home. Sometimes she doesn't even go straight home. Sometimes she feels the need to venture on a different direction.

I'm new to her life and my guess is that nothing has changed. I am sure all the others were treated the same way.

If she works hard, we worked hard. I guess that's how it is when you're this close to her. Sometimes you can tell she just wants to escape things just by being with me. Just us two, taking a drive up and down PCH and back to her apartment. When days (or nights) like that happen she's either sitting quietly (radio on or off) or singing her heart off to whatever radio station plays a song she knows the lyrics to - and she doesn't know the lyrics to many songs.

You can tell she thinks a lot. I think that's why we spend so much time together. She talks a lot too. She doesn't think anyone is listening, but I am and some of the things she says are...complicated. I don't know what people do to her in her life, but I know that when she is with me the world seems so much calmer. She's tried not to take her bad days out on me though, I mean, I already been in a wreck with her. THAT doesn't need to happen again.

Sometimes I want to tell her that everything will be okay, that the day is over and we can both rest. Sometimes I want to alarm her just so that we can go somewhere other than her apartment. The thing is, we both get our rest and that has to be something good. But, she also uses me as her escape and I wonder if there is anyone who really helps her with that.

I know she likes to escape. It's what she does. Things are really bad when we're both silent, no radio, and just open windows. That's the least I can do for her, be silent and let her melt.

She keeps her life with me. Her laundry, her paperwork, her wallet, laptop, change of clothes, and anything in between. Sure, she's a messy girl, but she gets by.

Monday will be here soon and, once again, we're on the road together and at the end of the day return back to her apartment (or somewhere else) just so that she can rest and I wait with the others."

per·son·i·fi·ca·tion (n.) A figure of speech in which inanimate objects or abstractions are endowed with human qualities or are represented as possessing human form.

If my car would talk, that's what he would tell you. I named him Bubba.

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Comfortably numb by Pink Floyd [26 Sep 2005|10:58pm]

[ mood | geeky ]

Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone home?

Come on, now.
I hear you’re feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain,
Get you on your feet again.

I need some information first.
Just the basic facts:
Can you show me where it hurts?


Just a little pinprick. [ping]
There’ll be no more --aaaaaahhhhh!
But you may feel a little sick.

Can you stand up?
I do believe it’s working. good.
That’ll keep you going for the show.
Come on it’s time to go.


I have become comfortably numb.

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"Hero" [06 Aug 2005|06:25pm]
Alias: Elliot

Born in Altair's phantom steel industry, South End, there's very little Elliot can recall about his own past. All towns in South End were slums in one way or another - when Altair started moving to a service oriented culture, they were the ones who had the hardest time transitioning. Many homes were broken by poverty - parents would sell their children into slavery or simply let them go to government orphanges.

This is where Elliot wound up. Although he was quickly bounced to a place for 'gifted' children, though no real emphasis on what gifts were to be fostered in this home. Elliot was tested and showed a great talent in abstractions - mathematics, art, music and tactical strategy (?) were like breathing for him. There was no real explaination as to why such things were tested - certainly not by the other children and when Elliot would ask, nonsense was his answer. Elliot did make friends though - Riot, Murphy and Kathryn were the only 'family' he had ever known growing up. By age 15 he was taken away from the only thing he ever saw as home and made a new family. This was when Rin and Shane met him; when Level One Foundations was created; and when Elliot finally began to understand what 'gifts' he really had.

And what terrible things they really were.
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Altair [04 Aug 2005|08:38pm]
The country of Altair is situated on the smallest land mass of the Realm. The country's history started prosperously - with only a small amount of space to actually govern and rich natural resources at their disposal, it was easy to push ahead in the international view without spreading resources too thin.

This is changing though, as Altair's resources are growing thin and they're switching from an emphasis in raw materials providers into a service-oriented economy. However the spectres of Altair's golden age loom; monolithic factories, long abandoned, stretch up into the sky and deny it to most of its inhabitants. Being so mechanically minded in the old days, Altair's cities were only divided up according to the industries they were in charge of. It' basically boils down to four main provinces - West End, East End, North End and South End.

This is where our main characters, Rin, Shane and Elliot begin their story. Also where Elliot was raised.
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The Realm [03 Aug 2005|09:20pm]
This world is composed of four main continents and outlying islands. The four continents are:

- Atlair
- Griss
- Poltraie
- Minal

Each continent contains its own set of rules, cities, provinces and would partake in international politics. If it weren't for the Guard and its flying fortress. A literal floating continent set to watch over the affairs of the Realm. This is just the start of the idea I have floating around. I'll put more as I think it up; characters and such too. I'm suffering from food coma though, so this is the best I've got.
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Party Prevails [30 Apr 2005|01:53am]
I swear, this is madness.

"...and I'm like, oh my god, you did not just say that. Because, she's such a bitch sometimes. Not to be judgemental or anything, mind you. But seriously...where does she get off calling me shallow? Me?! I bought a fucking Hybrid and went to the beach to help clean an oil spill. Although it was so cold and nasty that morning. But all the more reason, I told her! No shallow bitch goes out to the beaches at 7 in the morning...you wouldn't even get to work on a tan. She has no idea how good I am to people..."

This sort of drivel pours out of her at a nonstop pace for 45 minutes. She hasn't even bothered to notice that I've stopped nodding altogether or giving coherent feedback. Some people are like dams - give them one leak to pour out their heart's content to and it becomes a fucking flood. I'm no longer a person to her, just a damn earpiece.

I swear, I'm replacing Doug's toothpaste with Gold Bond tonight. Bastard.
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Social Nights [28 Apr 2005|11:01am]
Friday's here again. That can mean only one thing.

A Party. Capitalization intended.

Tonight's Party will be like all the others since I've moved in. Trish and Doug will be trying their damnedest to set me up with someone. By now I don't think they care who, as long as it's someone. The irony here is the more desperate they get, the more saddened I am by this, and less likely I am to socialize. I'm not looking for a quick lay, or a date. I'm not looking for anything, really. I just want to find people who are fun to be with. People with conviction and integrity.

People with soul.

"Hey Slugger," chimes Doug. I swear, the kid's whiter than I am.

"Oi," I reply, "another Party I assume?"

"Come on now, you know we do this all for you. We only want you to be hap-"

"Don't finish that sentence. I am happy, thank you very much. You want to play matchmaker because you somehow think that being with someone or getting a piece of ass makes for a better existence than the one I have."

"There you go again - making something so simple so complicated. I swear, if she only gave you the chance you wanted, you wouldn't be so uptight."

"Oh yeah," I cue in sardonically, "bringing that up puts me in such a Party mood."

"I'm just saying," says Doug. Yeah, always 'just saying,' "you make it sound like you have such a stoic attitude. If she were around, you'd drop it all in an instant."

"Yeah...and that's exactly my point-"

Trish has been watching from the corner now, and it only takes a second to recompose. I'm not gonna have this arguement again. Especially not with the two of them. We've been living together for what? 4 years now? How long do they continue to ask me to fit in with what they think is happy?

After the 'discussion' dies down, Trish walks back into the kitchen. The Party is always a pot-luck affair, but she insists on cooking something for our behalf. I've offered a few times, but she's the type who finds calming solice through doing things she's a natural at. Plus, I'm awful at cooking.

So the afternoon runs on - Doug tags along for the beer run and Trish cooks. None of us speak of the pink elephant sitting in our home. I know what they've got schemed, and they know I know. So why refer to it as -

"Tonight's get together will be splendid," coos Doug.

Yeah. Get together.

"Sure," I sigh. "BRING ON THE WHORES!"

He didn't take to the joke. Maybe irony doesn't work the whiter you get...?
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[18 Jan 2005|11:28pm]

Hearts have chambers. He locked the door and gave her the key.
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Join my Escort Service. [25 Oct 2004|10:26pm]

[ mood | devious ]

Over a cup of Joe (mixed with some kind of coffee and chocolate liqueur) and a conversation with my roommates about a conversation I had with my Baby Ryan (Ryan H.) I came to the conclusion that in some other universe there is a woman just like me only she's a Pimptress and that if I had bigger balls, kept a few connections, and maintained it all throughout the years I would probably be that woman.

Imagine that...working for the Boys and Girls Club by day and owned my own Escort Service by night. I would pimp out all my single, male friends, or any other single men I know, and they know who they are and having sex with the client would be optional.

It all started when I suggested to Baby Ryan that I should dress up as a Pimp and he should dress up as my Hoe for Halloween. Maybe next year. A part of me really thinks I'd be good at the pimping gig. If you think about it, that would be a really good side business...who would suspect that of me? Of me? HehHE.

Imagine it, shall you? Stephanie would be my assistant, definitely. She'd help screen clientele and help hire the escorts. Stephanie would also be in charge of making sure these bitches (female clients) would get what they paid for and pay for what they get. I would also make Esther part of recruitment because she's a hot chick who can get guys (as escorts) and girls (as clients). Ryan and Shaun would help with the creative aspect of our business: websites, fliers, my office design, business cards. And they'd be in the office anyway during the "screening process."

Everyone else, hmmm...would be "pimped out." *WinK*wInk* Easy money fellas, easy money.

Lisa would be...Lisa.

Edith, of course, would have nothing to do with it except visit the office.

I know too many single guys and all they would have to do is deal with women. And I am sure the men would be very, very happy if the women clientele were hot (thus the reason why I should have maintained a few contacts in my day).

I don't think I'd hurt any guys' feelings, would I? *shrugs shoulders and smiles*

"Boys, boys, all type of boys Black, white, Puerto Rican, Chinese boys
{??} thanga thang, {??} thanga thang
Girls, girls, get that cash
If its 9 to 5 or shakin ya ass
Ain't no shame ladies, do your thang
Just make sure you ahead of tha game...

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In a different world... [08 Sep 2004|07:34pm]

The door opened and she was greeted by a smile that she has not seen in such a long time. Tired, she reached her arms around him, hugging him longing for the memories they once shared. Her eyes open to see his mother holding his son and walks away back to the kitchen.

She puts her arms down and takes another smile at him. She holds back her tears and sighs. She withdraws her smile and takes a look at the floor. Slowly lifting her head, her eyes meet with his and she provides a crooked smile.

Suddenly, she takes the palm of her hand and slaps him across the face. In protecting his face he crosses his arms exposing slashes to his inner wrist and traces of needles marks along his veins. Such a sight further infuriate her and she continued to slap him forcing him to collaspe to the floor.

His older brothers pull her off of him and no words are shared. She wipes her hands on her jeans and stretches her neck as it cracks. He stands up and walks toward the door, his back turned to her. He looks over his shoulder and walks out the door.

She would never see him again and she would never know that the only person he trusted in his world was no longer available to be trusted.
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Another Night in the City [22 Jun 2004|07:49pm]
This has to be, what, the tenth pretty face I've come across tonight. Not even that generic magazine pretty either. We're talking true beauty. But this conversation is dragging. Nothing against her; she's sweet and all that...but holy crap. No substance. No soul. It's almost a disappointment.

And for some unknown reason, this club starts playing Maaya Sakamoto. Am I dreaming? Nah, if it were a dream, this conversation wouldn't be so dull.

It's like...nothing. The peppy psuedo-jazz, the bright, happy faces, the great coffee and smell of hazelnut mixed over...cherry, is it? And then "Dive" starts playing. This is the perfect night, and yet a night like all the rest. It's electric - people are alize and kicking and smiling and talking, even at 1am.

So why does it all feel so empty?

I come across these fields of do-gooders, well-wishers, and honest people...only to recognize their traits, but take in no true granduer from it all. It's like an element is missing. Or an element of me.

More aromas pour in as the door opens. The crisp cold air pushes in roses from across the street, cigarette smoke...and all the happy voices dance down the avenue. This night IS perfect. Which makes it so strange, knowing it and feeling nothing.
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[08 Jun 2004|12:32pm]

Oh yeah, it'll give you a broken link error when you click on it. Just stick a question mark at the end of the link, and try again. That should work.
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Means to an End [08 Jun 2004|12:29pm]


It's too long to post. You can download it there if you want.
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