Bestiality has got to be the most hilarious thing on the planet.  I'm now under the impression that it is this gigantic practical joke that for some reason, everyone takes seriously.  Think about it, people actually get aroused, they get INTERESTED in the concept of a woman gyrating around on a horse's penis?  They like the idea of some dude making love to a duck?  THIS IS ENJOYABLE TO THEM SEXUALLY!?!?!??!?  That's clearly impossible.  What is far more likely is, that these situations remind us of cartoons in which bugs bunny rocks the transvesticism and makes out with elmer fudd.  This was of course, played for laughs.  Had elmer bent bugs over a tree trunk and started nailing him, I think it would be extremely disturbing.......and much more hilarious.  In no cases is it sexy.  'Oaaahhh gawd, Oaahhh gawd, you'we a wascally wabbit you awe, oooo I'll get you.  Fuck da wabbit, Fuck da wabbit, FUCK DA WABBIT'  Ok you get the idea.  If this was graphic, we'd laugh even harder.  BECAUSE OF THE SIMPLE FACT THAT I"M REASONABLY SURE THE ANIMALS DON"T LIKE IT.  THEY ARE DISORIENTED, THEY ARE NOT SURE WHAT IS GOING ON UNTIL IT IS FAR TOO LATE!  Bugs would just frantically kick the ground underneath him and scream for help.  This brings up an awful awful truth.  Bestiality is essentially the rape of an animal.  It is wholly without consent because an animal is unable to give tacit consent.  It is very very wrong, and very very mean-spirited.  Here's the problem.  Animals make hilarious noises when in distress.  Argueably, because the horrific psychological effects of rape are greatly reduced for an animal, this makes it more of an uncomfortable situation than a violent one.  The camera in your mind's eye closes in on the animals eyes, they widen, then it's just OOAOREIUWOERARROAUEWEIIIUOQWEIURQOIUUIOOIIIIIIAAAAA!!!!  THE ANIMAL FREAKS THE FUCK OUT!  WOULDN"T YOU!?!?

Imagine this scenario...does anyone remember seaquest?  It was a show about a bunch of star trek rejects that couldn't make it to space so they decided they were just going to buy an old submarine and play jaques cousteau.  Well if you remember correctly, there was a dolphin in the show; because I don't know the sex of the animal, and can't remember it's name, it will be given the androgynous monicker 'Kim' for our story...our story being a bestiality porno.

*Camera on swimming pool/ocean entrance--Kim is swimming around, enjoying the warm water and a day absent of any serious SEA-QUESTS (DUN DUN DUN)...ugh...A screen above the tank transmits his thoughts*

Kim--Water sure is warm today; getting hungry though, I hope Ron comes by with the food soon.
*Ron is walking to the tank on the side of the screen.  He is wearing a crotchless wetsuit.  This would be sexy except for the fact that it's a crotchless wetsuit and...no no that's pretty much the only reason.  He approaches with a wild look in his eyes and a bucket of fish*
Kim--Ron you're here, thank god I'm so hungry.  *The words on the screen bulge to emphasize hungry*
Ron--I've been hungry too.  *Extremely obnoxious laugh track inserted for additional tension*
*Ron slides into the water, with his bucket of fish, Kim swims over next to him.  Ron pats his head and begins feeding him fish.  Kim enjoys being pat on the head*
Kim--Lovely morning, mmm, good fish...a little to the left please.
Ron--Sure.
*We switch to underwater camera, which has a similar text display monitor.  Ron slides in behind Kim*
Kim--Ron, what are you doing?
Ron--Nothing just relax.
Kim--Ron, that's a little private you don't need to go that low...  Ron, did you hear me?  Ron...Ron...?  Ron, I just want my breakfast now...  Ron...?  RON NO!
*We turn away from the two to see bubbles and hear thrashings in the water, and the screamed whistles, whines and clicks of kim's dolphin language.  We turn to the screen*
Kim--  OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD EWOIUYRIWRUPOIQUWOEURIQWIORUPOIEWURQREWRWEPOIRUQ HHEEEEEELLLLLLP OIEWRUPOWEQRUEWQUEIPORU

Don't let your guard down like I did.  Don't let Ron dress you up in a dolphin suit and force you to play seaquest.

And the night begins...

Anda6684: since i spetn this week on the couch in the common room w/ a box of tissues, i didnt' go to practice
Anda6684: and we have a two day meet starting tomrrow
Anda6684: and i have to swim 200 fly
Anda6684: so, basically, i'm gonna die
Anda6684: this may be the last conversation you ahve with me
Anda6684: :-P
Slayngren: ....that's ominous
Slayngren: i guess i better get some stuff out then
Anda6684: haha
Slayngren: amanda, i'm actually an alien
Slayngren: i came to earth in search of booty
Slayngren: pirate booty
Slayngren: but finding that all the pirates were dead
Slayngren: i was without a mission
Slayngren: wandering the world for several years, i became a full-fledged vagrant
Slayngren: until an old samurai master took me under his wing
Slayngren: and taught me the ways of the sword
Slayngren: then i began righting wrongs
Slayngren: which brings us to today
Anda6684: hmm...that explains some things
Anda6684: :-P
Slayngren: well it certainly explains the vagrancy
Slayngren: ....sort of

And for some reason keeps going...

Slayngren: shit wait i have more to confess
Anda6684: haha
Anda6684: what's that?
Slayngren: I spent two years as a yugoslavian fisherwoman
Slayngren: my name was yergic snokalov
Anda6684: LOL
Slayngren: i had a son and a daughter
Slayngren: their names were nobrev and ulga
Slayngren: they had a fine job
Slayngren: smashing sheep for a living
Anda6684: aww
Slayngren: to be made into sheep paste
Anda6684: poor sheep
Slayngren: a local specialty
Anda6684: eww
Slayngren: my husband was a good man
Anda6684: LOL
Slayngren: but got his hand caught in a shoe destroyer
Slayngren: i grieved for nearly a month
Slayngren: staying at home eating sheep paste
Slayngren: but mostly i grieved for the children
Slayngren: growing up without a father figure meant that I had to raise them with eastern european television
Slayngren: show's like yurgic's industrial worker's marxist power hour
Anda6684: ouch
Slayngren: and the public execution showcase
Anda6684: that's no way to raise a child
Anda6684: haha
Slayngren: i know
Slayngren: which is why i had to stop
Slayngren: and move back here
Slayngren: it's a sad story really
Slayngren: i still send my little ones canned pears and horse ears
Anda6684: canned pears are good
Slayngren: only the best for my little ones
Slayngren: so now you know some of my startling secrets

And keeeeps going....

Slayngren: ballroom dancing?
Anda6684: probably
Slayngren: i had to do that once
Slayngren: it was a DISASTER
Slayngren: as you can probably imagine
Anda6684: bodde tries to make me do that
Anda6684: ...and she always makes me be the guy
Slayngren: me+suit+tie=nightmare
Slayngren: yeah what's the deal with that
Slayngren: people always make me be the guy too
Slayngren: assholes
Anda6684: haha
Slayngren: i mean i get all gussied up
Slayngren: even wear those fancy stockings
Slayngren: and for what
Slayngren: to get upstaged by some painted hussy!
Slayngren: i swea to gawd

............I......I have no excuses

I'm so ridiculously tired right now I can't explain it.  I'm feeling feverish, dizzy, and very weak.  This has come completely out of the blue.  I was fine a few hours ago.  I'm thinking that maybe this time it's the plague.  Jesus...umm I guess I can't write tonight. 

who's that rappa, damn!

I could sure go for some oreos right now.

So I went to a friend's party tonight, a gesture for my friends who want me to move on and away from my depressive state and continued pitiful outlook on things.  And I realized one thing, it's not that I hate parties because people who go to parties are idiots (which is an indisputable fact), but it's because the very atmosphere of the party itself makes me feel like a shell of a person.  The whole essence of that which is party is anathema to me.  Think of it this way for a moment...  What do you do when you prepare yourself for a party?

1.  You alert your friends--This is the first and most important action of every party goer.  Your friends are your lifeline...granted, a friend may be throwing the party, but you always make sure to arrive with at least one friend.  In doing so, you are given a way out, a safe mind to vis a vis with.  It's like parachuting into enemy territory, you can't do it alone.  And herein lies an issue I think, well hidden of course.  You go to parties with essentially what amounts to a social bodyguard, someone who you can interact with on a level other than 'please touch my groin' or 'let's share a moment when our hearts and minds meet...and then touch my groin.'  This is why parties are dangerous, for they are recognizably the place for this activity, a place where you essentially concede that you don't want to talk to anyone other than to grab their groin.  If you did, why would you bring your safety?  The safety friend allows you to remain insular, to not put yourself out there, to be possibly rebuffed at your attempt at talking to someone.  In this way, everyone cliques-up, and absolutely no real conversation takes place, for it is on the 'no man's land' of idle inane chatter.

2.  You get gussied up--It seems like everyone I know does this.  People actually cultivate their appearance to impress others in a social space.  I could go on a giant rant about how wrong this is, and how it actually damages who you are as a person...but I won't.  Suffice to say, if you change clothes for the purpose of going to a party, you need to rethink your life.  This also links to the grabbing groin phenomenon...for while many people do not go to parties for this express purpose, they do insist on fooling themselves under the pretense of 'fun' rather than groin grabbing.  You want to look sexy, you want to look desirable, even as you try and maintain a sense of dignity by not groping someone else.  So really, everyone wears a giant sign that says LOOK BUT DON"T TOUCH, TALK TO, OR CONNECT WITH--I AM HERE AS A COMMODITY, CONSUME ME AS YOU WISH.  Parties are about spectacle, they are about communal experience, they are about the visceral boorish nature of life.

I'm tired I'm not going to finish this.  What's rule #2?  Keep your shoes on your feet.  Otherwise I'll take them.

Today something happened in the shower.  No it wasn't what typically happens in the shower...I fall and get something stuck in my butt...  No, I had one of those creative moments where everything falls into place and suddenly all your ideas seem to fit so perfectly with the world around you, and you feel as if you could reconfigure it all with but a glance.  So you rush out of the shower, over to your computer and splurge, writing as quickly and passionately as you can...  ONLY TO PRODUCE COMPLETE AND UTTER BULLSHIT.  TODAY, JUST THIS MORNING IN FACT, I COMMITTED A HORRIBLE SIN.  I WROTE A SONG.  NO, not a 'song' but a SONG, with an honest melody, jam packed with 'feelings.'  I poured my heart out onto that page, made sure that every syllable reflected the many facets of my soul as it lay shattered on the parlor floor.  And what did it bring me?  SENSITIVE GUY ACOUSTIC ROCK!?!?!  IS THAT WHO I AM UNDERNEATH IT ALL?  DO I REALLY JUST YEARN FOR SOMEONE TO HOLD MY HAND AND LOVE ME LIKE SOME PATHETIC THREE LEGGED KITTEN???  Well I think we all know the answer is clearly yes, I am a three legged kitten.  I've got all the qualities:  inability to take care of one's self, confusion of inanimate objects with loved ones, difficulty walking, and razor sharp itty bitty teeth.  I don't hate the song, in fact, I really think it reflects the way I look at the world, but it is soooooo terribly dashboard meets bright eyes and they both vomit up their breakfasts, microwave the mixture...eat it, vomit it out again, eat it, shit it out, then do their best to record the sounds. 

Just two days ago I met a man while waiting in the freezing cold for flu shot vouchers for my grandparents.  He epitomized everything I grew up loving, grew up idealizing, and grew up basing my principles around.  He was a jolly man, and an entertainer by trade.  He lived off the kindness of friends, and showed unbridled generosity to strangers.  He had come upon a number of hard times in his life, all of which nearly broke him.  But he learned to laugh at them.  To distance himself from the pain so that he could move on.  He was a man of the world, living every day to its absolute fullest.  He told me that 'life is an adjustment' there is no true hurt or joy, simply tiny adjustments we make to our living.  We simply need to make the most out of these 'adjustments.'  Then I realized that this man was not actually a person, but instead a well concealed soda-machine.  He dispensed life lessons like those truckstop condom boxes, and I WAS NO LONGER BUYING.  AN ADJUSTMENT?  MAKE THE BEST OF THINGS?  All I learned from him is we see hardship, and we choose to forget it, to ignore it, so that we can 'move on.'  Moving on is an excuse we give ourselves so that we don't have to face our mistakes, to embrace them and to live them.  Moving on is to remove one's self from the guilt of living.  (OOOOOH HERE IT COMES)

Whoa.  I basically just told everyone to shoot themselves...jethus chwrist...

eh whatev bev

I know I drone on about hippies fairly often, and why I think that they are indeed barely people.  Oh yeah for the record here's another pseudo-serious post...  But truthfully, alot of this hate, and alot of my meanderings on the topic are because I really envy something about hippies....they're happy...  I may see it as a wholly empty and meaningless happiness based upon pleasure and a web of complex lies, but it is still indeed happiness...and it's a happiness that I don't have.  A comfort with one's self and the world around us.  I've never really been to anywhere, seen anything, or met anyone that I didn't on some level, carry some kind of malicious anger towards...and frankly, that totally blows.  Is it really the world's problem?  Or is it my problem.  Of course it's the world's problem how silly of me, I know exactly what's going on...I mean...it's my website right...I...I do what I want?  Sonofabitch.  And the thing is, is I'm starting to appreciate that happiness, I may not like it, and I may not believe in it, or that it will work for me...but I'm starting to realize it works for some people...and that's ok.  As long as it doesn't involve the reefer.  Fucking hippies.

I'm just going to go ahead and write a giant stream of consciousness sort of thing because I'm so utterly lonely and pathetic in every way that is typically thought of as possible on this little planet of ours.  I am repulsive, and innately unnattractive.  This does not in fact stem from any kind of slight against myself in a physical fashion.  I may not be pick of the litter, but I can say with some confidence that I'm not horrendously ugly...at least...on the outside.  And therein lies the problem.  I am a hideous person inwardly, obsessed and completely wedded to an ambiguous hatred towards just about anything.  Where does this come from?  Did I not get enough hugs as a child?  No...as a matter of fact I didn't.  I didn't like hugs, I didn't like to be around people, because even when I was little, I realized that there is something deeply and irrecovably WRONG with them.  I don't mean wrong, as in they are somehow worse than me or blah blah whatever.  No certainly none of that bullshit, after all, the person I hate the most in the world is myself.  No, this sense of being utterly, unidentifiably wrong stems from a sort of unnatural feel to humanity, a definite sense I get that for some reason, we all just chose to be complete and utter dickbags...that we had a chance some day and we just flat out blew it.  To put it in pretentious metaphor, we were all given some clay, and asked to build something, something out of our wildest dreams and goals, to build what it is in the world that we really wanted.  And what did we make?  We made some genetalia.  We put our sexual drives in the place of where our dreams should be.  And you'll say to me, 'Keith, that is awfully heavy handed, and aren't you the one that yells about that love stuff anyways?'  Yes, it is heavy handed, but isn't it oh so true?  Aren't all relationships we have dictated in some way connected to this sexuality?  AND WHY THE CRAP DO I HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THIS!?!?!?  Here's why, because we have separated the two, we have made love and sexuality things that we think about in a DIFFERENT way.  They can often, or nearly always be made into the same thing, and we can have a loving relationship with heavy passionate sexuality or whatever.  But what happens when we truly forget this connectedness?  What happens when we start to see sexuality as an act, as a goal, as a COMMODITY, when we give it autonomous being as an idea?  Well the emotional response is we are no longer human beings, but once again, I can be heavy-handed.  A more moderate stance would be that we lose all capability to truly integrate ourselves with sexuality, to BE sexual, rather than commit the sexual.  The result is, sex can and will be without love.  This makes me want to vomit.  Now granted, my views on love are also incredibly out of control, and stem from some weird coagulation of too many fairy-tales and a healthy dose of neediness, BUT why would one choose to act in such a way, nay even THINK in such a way that they would have a serious attraction to someone they don't love.  Sex becomes something we consume and produce, something that is 'sold' rather than given, and because of this selling, becomes an object of desire itself.  People WANT sex, they do not coexist with it.  We are so closed or open to the avenue of casual sex for this exact reason, it has become something that we can enjoy without commitment, without sacrifice, without hardship, things that are integral to real love.  Love is not all happy-faces and walks on the beach.  Television, books, and a large number of our peers have shown us that it can be, but how realistic is this conception?  Does the married couple of 30 years still love one another, or do they simply exist together?  On the same token, can giving one's 'love' away freely (oooh man i get mad when it comes to the hippies), to any and all that you are attracted to (or 'love')...is this any healthier?  Does having a casual attachment to many people somehow give you a greater sense of satisfaction as a person?  Granted, most of those people may think very highly of you, and if you are 'liberated' in that sense, will probably have a great deal of respect and admiration for your generosity and kindness.  But you are living life as a shadow, a facade, a farce.  To not give yourself away, to not BECOME love, but instead feel it, is to only go so far, to only give up your SEX and not your LOVE.  Love is undying, love is all powerful, and it is something that very few of us ever feel.  So what do so many of us do?  We close ourselves off to it.  We bury ourselves in friendships, in shallow loves built on sex and convenience.  The eighties were correct in their assertion that love does indeed 'hurt.'  It is through this pain that we learn, however, and to not learn, to be content with HAPPINESS(don't get me started on this) is to basically buy an icecream cone, eat off all the sprinkles, look at a homeless man, point at the cone, point to him, walk over to him...then throw the cone in the gutter.  Happiness is a crutch, happiness is a false wall put up.  Surely, there is unimaginable pain on the way to finding real love, to finding the truth of truths.  It hurts so bad that for many of us, our hearts break and we turn to one of the afformentioned ways out (or some of us...bitter...bitter...harden our hearts as best we can, and keep smashing into the wall--to weak to realize we'll never break through).  My problem is, I continuously fall for things, I allow myself to get wrapped up in the moment, every time reaching for that true love, only to find that the other person is never ready to take the final step, to run up against the wall.  After all, the wall is imposing, and you don't know if you're going tobreak through.  But jesus christ, can't we try, just once, can't we all just FUCKING TRY.

I literally cannot think of a single thing to write here.

Muffins?