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  1.  (2512.1)
    You all know the drill. Saturday Night Open Mic is for getting things off your chest, talking crap back at me, telling me what you're doing, telling me what you're planning, and detailing the ferocious, tear-stained and muscle-ripping masturbation sessions that the merest thought of me induces in you.

    What's the name of your Secret Society?

    Do you even want a secret society? In times past, secret societies, committees, salons and clubs have done the weirdest goddamn things. And founded magazines, too, I suppose.

    Vent, dance, slur, vomit, confess, make me squirm uncomfortably in my chair. Tell me things. I am your Internet Priest, and I love you all.

    Why the hell else would I still be here?
    • CommentTimeJun 7th 2008 edited
    - why won't Warren reply to me on facebook? (well I tried the once so far...) - I know you've got your fingers in many internet pies but at least take the time to tell me to piss off.

    - got two short stories to write for some e-anthology for the late half of this year, so I'm racking m'brains

    - subbed a cover concept for Wizard's War Heroes contest (yeah I know, but if it's chosen you get paid. PAID.)

    - my secret society is The Cult of The Crimson Moon. Now it ain't secret. Thanks ALOT.

    - and can someone explain to me what the hell is up with Nicolas Cage's hairline?
  2.  (2512.3)
    - why won't Warren reply to me on facebook?

    Because Facebook is a piece of shit that prevents me from using it efficiently to do things like, say, reply to people.
    • CommentAuthorchris g
    • CommentTimeJun 7th 2008
    You know how people say "Oh, she/he's in her/his own little world"? Well, that little pocket world of mine feels like it's finally being squeezed on. Rent, car payment, gas, economic paranoia and all that bullshit is like the Grim Monkey Reaper on my gorram back.
    And this time I am actually obligated to fight back the only way I can; buying comics, and drawing.
    The cash leftover for comics is called "the sanity fund" as someone on LJ so eloquently put it. If i don't have my fix I will explode, and if I don't draw I will snap.
    Off my hairy animal chest - I get nervous around pretty girls, how fucking more highschool can I get!? In one hand it's "be your lame self" and the other is "what would Bond do?" and well none of those come into play no matter how much I rehearse to myself. At least I'm more of a people person now than I was years ago.

    Oh, there was this Marvel teaser of some shadowy figure with a gun, and his rectangluar red lens had an "X" in it and "2009" on the gun. My friend said some hardcore fan man pointed out it would be the 10th anniversary of Spider Jerusalem and he would be coming back at marvel MAX. What a fucking creep. I mean, get fucking real! I want that bastard back as much as the next guy, but obviously you're 60 issue run said what it had to say. Why go backward? You're all about going forward.

    Oh, and I really want to go to the Nine Inch Nails show in September.
  3.  (2512.5)
    Somebody, within earshot of here is either doing Status Quo and Elvis karaoke, or rehearsing in a Status Quo and Elvis covers band. This could well mean that soon I shall have to go and hunt them down and terminate them with extreme prejudice, for it is bad noise, and no bad noise is allowed to disturb the tranquility of my garden. I am out here drinking wine in a deck chair. and enjoying the candle holder I bought last year and never used on account of the war with next door that appears now to be in a state of Glasnost.. oh fuck oh fuck, they've just launched into Johnny B Goode and segued back into 'Rockin All Over The World'... these people must die horridly and fast...

    Anyhow... I don't think I'm in a secret society, or have ever been in one. And if I was, I wouldn't tell anyone, or it wouldn't be secret, and I would probably be expelled, or exiled to Milton Keynes, or forced to drink the blood of a goat baby while slathered in vaseline and feathers, or whatever these secret things do.

    I'm working on new music, much photography and trying to get visits to friends in before my third child is spawned in a couple of weeks time. This is proving hard, as time is difficult to come by, especially with a day job that's currently 50 plus hours a week plus 20 hours or so commuting; damn credit crunch/economic fuckup whatever thing that's causing it all...

    But today, I have GARDENED, and eliminated many weeds and sorted many plots and conducted a Bluebell Massacre (they're very pretty but they infest everything and will not die), digging out hundreds of bulbs from my beds so I can plant other stuff. Tomorrow we shall go garden shopping.

    And some bastard has cloned my debit card and tried to use it to buy lots of things in Italy. This is very annoying as the bank have now stopped the card, I've cut it up, and I'm going to have to live without a cash card for a week.

    And the ghastly music's stopped. Awesome.
    • CommentTimeJun 7th 2008
    I don't know that my secret society will have a name, per'll be more of a Valusian snake-cult, I think. Maybe the gateway front will be The First Ophidian Church, Reformed. Then you get in and it's all orgies and narcotics, and me on a motherfucking dais.

    A dais. Resplendent in vestments and finery.

    My workout and nutritional regime continues. I'm spent beyond the last of my strength.

    It's 105F in Carolina today. This is unfuckingtenable.
    • CommentTimeJun 7th 2008
    I think any secret society that involves me would have to involve gin. There would probably be a lot of gin. And hopefully a secret hand signal or a goddamn batsign.

    Today I ate so much Indian, I may die. El local takeway has a everything, ever for a tenner deal going and between my flatmate, a friend and I, we'll be eating leftovers for the rest of the week. Mmm, saag gosht. We also rewired and set up the stereo system we snagged off her grandparents when they moved house. I can now play my vinyl again!have immediately made plans to extract all the good stuff from my parent's collection. Gotta love old tech though, anything where you can lift up the lid and go "ahh, I see the problem, the rubber band has slipped!" instead of "oh fuck, the motherboard just shat itself." is worth owning, I think.
  4.  (2512.8)
    Long fucking week. Geography teacher requested us to research the Baby Boom in Europe post World War II and present it to class. When this kind of homework's asked, I usually make a mini-documentary with quick edition, using images and videos to illustrate the narration as funnily as possible without losing the focus. But when it's me and seven other people, ideas bounce around, nobody listens to one another and we manage to make exactly one scene in an entire day.

    Thursday, we just sat around a table and what was supposed to be a smooth discussion about how we should do the video ended up being a heated argument that left everyone with a headache. All we did that day was come to the consensus of what the structure of the video would be.

    Friday, our first shot at filming the introduction scene. It involved a man on an army uniform, a woman in 40s clothing, lingerie and a dog. Unfortunately, my classmate who was playing "army uniform man" couldn't help laughing before concluding the take, in the fifteen or so takes we tried with him. In the only one he kept a straight face, he took his hat off before he was supposed to, which fucked the timing of the scene. I had to replace him, because he had to leave.

    Then, there was the dog. As much as you hate dogs, Warren (and I'm not a fan either), that one is a cool big guy called Zonga. His only job in the scene was: 1 - going to greet his owner, "woman in 40s clothing", when she arrived home, and 2 - staying still as a panty fell on his face. In order to accomplish 1, his actual owner had to throw pieces of food next to the door so he'd go and the actress could stroke him briefly. We needed about ten takes because either the dog would ignore the actress completely, or the actress would start laughing out of nowhere.

    The complete scene is about twenty seconds long, and it took three hours to make. I can't say it wasn't fun, but fuck was it tiring. There was also, of course, the Math exam, which royally fucked everyone including me, who HATES MATH.

    telling me what you're doing

    Exploring the web, finding interesting stuff, trying to work the punching bag so I can lose some weight, surviving school... y'know.

    telling me what you're planning

    Losing weight, doing a hell of a Baby Boom mini-documentary, not losing my mind in the process, etc.

    and detailing the ferocious, tear-stained and muscle-ripping masturbation sessions that the merest thought of me induces in you.

    That's personal. I thought English people were polite.

    What's the name of your Secret Society? Do you even want a secret society? In times past, secret societies, committees, salons and clubs have done the weirdest goddamn things. And founded magazines, too, I suppose.

    "The Secret Society of Making Vida Guerra and Selena Spice Finding Andre Suddenly Very Sexy".


    I'm becoming more and more impatient with religion. If I have kids, I'm NOT going to tell them about Santa Claus. the Easter Bunny or God until they're old enough to choose what the fuck they wanna believe in.

    SON: Daddy.

    ME: Yes, son?

    SON: What is Christimas?

    ME: It's a time of the year when people are supposed to be nice to each other and buy gifts for each other, and for Hasbro to get richest.

    SON: And what's Easter?

    ME: It's another time of the year when you do your best to make your best friends and your relatives become fat fucks.

    SON: And what's God?

    ME: He's someone some people believe in. According to these people, he's an invisible being in the sky who loves us all very much but he'll throw us in hell if we use a condom.

    SON: Are these people crazy, dad?

    ME: No, people have a right to believe on what they want. Sometimes, they might even hurt you to convince you their belief is the absolute truth.

    SON: What do I do with these people?

    ME: Punch them. It's pretty satisfying.

    SON: What do you believe in, dad?

    ME: In Science.

    SON: What's Science?

    ME: You see... ever heard of black holes? They're really fucking cool!


    I can hop incessantly and flop my arms around, but not dance.




    I draw stuff during some classes and don't pay any attention. I have a short attention span, especially for things like THE STRUCTURE OF FUCKING CARBON or LOGA-FUCKING-RYTHMS.

    make me squirm uncomfortably in my chair

    Already did
    , I guess.
    • CommentTimeJun 7th 2008
    i feel like i'm totally losing touch with my friends and totally feeling like i am am failing to make new ones. the people i get on with i feel lke an ass with.but yeah. i feel very sad sometimes.

    on the plus side i feel like i'm really making headway with my music.
  5.  (2512.10)
    My thoughts are with my friend today.

    Yup, thats about it.
  6.  (2512.11)
    bouncing back and forth between the cubs/dodgers game, which, at the moment, is really tooth and nail, and the belmont stakes. post time is not quite an hour away.

    i mowed the yard and put the baby down for a nap, which is the one power i have over the boy that kel does not. today this combo made me husband of the year.

    bouncing back and forth between IRON MAN #5 and UNCANNY X-MEN #503. there are multiple levels on which I can't believe I just typed that. the deadline math on getting pages done and doing heroescon without dying is grim. doable, but grim. so no days off for a while.

    The dodgers just roared ahead of the cubs.

    Abe Lincoln sure was something. So was RFK.
  7.  (2512.12)
    What's the name of your Secret Society?

    The Darkening Sky.

    Do you even want a secret society? In times past, secret societies, committees, salons and clubs have done the weirdest goddamn things. And founded magazines, too, I suppose.

    The Darkening Sky would be devoted to creating a sense of dread among the good and deserving peoples of the world. Mysterious symbols appearing as graffiti. Web videos that everyone assumes is just another ad for just another movie. Myspace/facebook/twitter/ning profiles with "characters" who are all devoted to spreading the message.

    Ever since I was a kid I've loved the feeling of dread. Not fear, not horror, just DREAD. Lovecraft was like porn for me. Not in the Hentai way.

    I love the feeling that SOMETHING is COMING. A line from a Nick Cave track "Dread the passage of jesus, for he will not return." stuck in my head.

    A secret society devoted to scaring the hell out of people. The reveal? The great unmasking?

    That the only demons are the ones we create.

    Vent, dance, slur, vomit, confess, make me squirm uncomfortably in my chair. Tell me things. I am your Internet Priest, and I love you all.

    Not enough creative work done this week. Job's been busy and it's so fucking hot and humid all of a sudden. We had a cold spring and now summer has arrived with all the subtle grace of a shotgun blast. I slept for 10 hours last night.

    I nearly got into a fight with a 15 year old last night. Stopped off for my weekly sushi. This group of parents unleashed a flock of 8-16 year old boys on the damn place. Shoving, yelling, punching, shitting, all while the moms and one dad stood in the back "catching up". The 15 year old was punching one of the other shit-eaters and hit this small Philipino woman, who was too polite to say anything. No apology from shit-eaters. No, that would be human. I turned and told him to knock it off.

    "Fuck you asshole!"

    I wanted to be 15 again. I wanted to smack the stupid out of his mouth. Why can't I beat other people's rotten children. As a kid we lived in mortal fear of adults. We'd yell something, usually while running for our lives knowing that if we were caught, we were dead. What happened to fear?

    "What the FUCK did you just say to me?" was my reply. I got close to him. "What THE FUCK did you just say?".

    He got quiet. Mumbled "Nothing" I turned and ordered sushi.

    See, his parents need to give that kid more FEAR. More dread that he's going to say the wrong thing to the wrong person and get beaten to death for good measure.

    I still have a very nice scar from where the local gangbanger hit me with a wooden board after I said something...untoward...about his sister. Lesson learned.
    • CommentAuthorOddcult
    • CommentTimeJun 7th 2008
    Half of one of my teeth fell out today. Dentists being rarer than Bigfoot round here, I tried to repair it myself using one of those temporary travel fillings kits. Cleaning out the broken tooth, with no anesthetic and then filling it in with whatever random gunk was in the kit, was the single most painful thing I've ever felt.

    I quite literally had a slight out-of-body experience, as if the thing inside me that makes me tick and makes me who I am, inside of the meat machine was chucked out for a few seconds. No, seriously.

    I then ate all the painkillers in the house and now my sides hurt when I piss. Thinking it a bad idea to go to sleep after this, in case I don't wake up again, I drank the can of Red Bull and litre bottle of Coke that were in the fridge. So I'm trembling slightly now too.

    I'm wondering whether to just go with this and see what else I can take, to take my mind off the pain. There's some nutmeg in the cupboard. Fresh nutmeg is quite psychoactive. I don't know if a couple of year old cloves of nutmeg will have any effect whatsoever, or be a good idea to take together with large amounts of painkillers and caffeine, but I might give it a shot, just for fun, as I seem to have invented some kind of DIY Dental Shamanism here.

    My secret society (of one) is the Order of the DIY Dental Shaman.

    I really don't want to be a member of this order. Please, sweet Xenu let me live through the night and be able to find an A&E dept with a dentist in tomorrow morning. I'd try and get to one right now, but there's no fucking way I'm driving in this state and don't have cash for a cab. And don't fancy my chances of explaining through poorly-fixed teeth with a drug-slurred voice, to a taxi driver for whom english is probably a second language, where the fuck I want to go anyway.

    There are some ready-meal curries in the freezer. Sometimes they put cloves in the pilau rice that comes with them.

    That's it. I'm defrosting every single one of those fuckers until I find a fucking clove to rub against my gums.

    Also, seriously considering trying to score some cocaine to use as a topical anesthetic straight onto the gums if the clove doesn't work. Right now, that shit would be too precious to go up my damn nose, if it worked.

    But, yeah, pain-induced out-of-body experiences. That's a new one for me. Not something I'd have voluntarily tried, by going to the Philippines and sticking skewers through my cheeks, or whatever, but damn, damn weird.

    Due to caffeine rush, I've typed this in about two minutes. I think that's about to fall off soon now, though.

    Dare I sleep?
  8.  (2512.14)
    A Secret Society?

    Hmmm. Well, I may as well apologise since I am writing this line near the end of writing what you are about to read below. Sorry. I'll try to be more 'focused' on future Saturday Nights.

    The first thought ( actually several ) that come to mind is on all this recent talk about time travel and universes before The Big Bang.
    Another far-off topic is genetic/racial memory (this one has not popped up on this distinguished site. Maybe it should?) . I'll make an attempt to mix these wide ranging ideas in a few paragraphs.

    Time to go a bit into my thoughts on a Secret Society, Also, it gives me a bit of time to think up an interesting title and a bit of what it would be about.

    Now, a Secret Society has the nature of being secret. This means no real information should be readily availble about it in the history books or Wikipedia. On this, the Illumanati and The Skull & Bones fall short and more or less fail. It is not enough to hide your practices and members, but to also hide your name, your existance from the sheep that are the public.

    Another thing about 'proper' SSs (abbreviated) is the occupations of their members. These individuals SHOULD be those in top positions in business, politics and the military. A SS is about covertly controlling as much as possible through its members and if it is doig this, it is currently sucessful.

    Another much more interesting element of a SS is its origin. It is not enough to be completely secret from the world and control countries as large as America, you need to have the history, a backbone of years and experience to be a foundation.

    (This is where the time travel/ genetic memory/ pre-Big Bang Universes should start to dribble in. Please note it will be a mess and that I am making this up as I go along, a stretching of the creative muscle that has had little use in some time. That sounded rude.)

    In my personal opinion, a SS has to have a real interesting timeline is order to be both worthy of the title and COOL. Origin-wise, this baby should be starting sometime BEFORE recorded human history. An example of this is the one Cthulhu has/had. Fictionous it may be but still. If memory serves, when Cthulhu and his spawn came through the ether down to Earth, was not it's mere PRESENCE enough to affect pre-human life? So powerful and alien was this cosmic power, it imbued human ancestry with the 'fact' that it resided beneath the waves and would rise again. This knowledge, stuck in the racial memory (that's one down, two to go),
    drained down the years, coming strongly to the surface in a small minority of human beings. These people were not joined together by a man or a group but by an IDEA, a meme undeniable since it was a pivotal part of their very being. Basically, they HAD to serve Cthulhu. This makes this SS or any other with this type of nature particularly indestructable for, less than annihalating mankind or removing it with forced evolution, it is a part of the genetic makup: that which makes a human being a human being. Of course, this is fiction but, perhaps starting now, someone with the right knowledge and resources could put a couple of 'ideas' in a person here and there: a DNA time capsule reinforced generation by generation, millenia by millenia, into a species-wide SS.

    Okay, the next area is technology. Yes, having genetic memory on your side (as well as a space octopus) is all well and good, but what about the tech? To be COOL, you need to have the anti-gravity before Man can fly and the cancer cure before penicillin. Summed up, a SS needs to be keeping all the good stuff to themselves. This has the goal of both keeping power and having a little bit of protection. "Nuclear bomb? Ha! Ever heard of Anti-matter cluster devices?" Now, a time machine (one more to go) is technology any proper SS needs at their disposal. Extreme example: the end of the universe. An SS has made it that far: genetic memory has lasted all the way through the human species, its extiniction and those of it's varying ancestors. But the Big Crunch is coming. Time has run out for the SS. Or has it? Using a time machine, they couls go through it all over again. And again. And again. ETC. Unstoppable and unrelenting. Mistakes reversed and future ones prevented

    Genetic memory and time travel: two things any proper SS can't be without.

    But..... what about the other universes? Pre and post Big Bang existances would surely attract the interest of an immortal multi-timeline SS. One cosmos would seem claustraphobic. Now, here is where I hit a wall. HOW could these be reached? I think i'll leave that to the PROPER and COOL Secret Society.........

    ..... which happens to be the one I belong to.

    Its called 'The Penumbra' and we invented Double Glazing windows. You really think the space in the middle is about keeping in heat?
    • CommentAuthorHarlotbug3
    • CommentTimeJun 7th 2008 edited
    My secret society, I suppose I'm a member of the Rayzine society. About a handful of Ray's buddies listen to his hour long netradio blog of movie talk...and talk.

    This is where you can make it less of a secret. Tell him harlotbug sent you, but first tell him to stop making these things a fucking HOUR long!He won't listen to me. Maybe I need to move up some more in the ranks of this society.

    I've got better things to do while I do the laundry and babysit the pets than listen to the Rayzine, and maybe I'll do them, maybe I'll imagine a new issue from one of the dozen or so titles that Warren follows up on whenever he's not wasting time encouraging his fans to waste time online.
    • CommentTimeJun 7th 2008 edited
    What's the name of your Secret Society?
    If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret WOULD IT. When I was in high school, whenever someone asked me what my career plans were, I said I wanted to be a hired killer. I'm not sure if I was kidding. It seemed like something that I could build skill at, maybe find a small community of equally misanthropic minds. And, given my suicidal tendancies at the time, having no fear of death would have been on my side. Anyway, who would worry about a 5'4" 115 pound blonde girl stalking them down dark alleyways?

    Do you even want a secret society?
    Not really. I'm kind of antisocial for the most part - there are only a few people in the world I can stand to be around for more than an hour or two. Long rituals in dark rooms that don't involve me stabbing people sound... bleh. Of course, even the stabbing would make it only vaguely interesting. I knew some girls who were in the Ladies Auxillary to the Masons (known as something like Rainbow Girls) - they had a lot of secrets, but they were horrendously boring.

    I am broke, I can't find a job, I'm anxious, fat, and old. Of these, I'm only working on one at any given time. That is NOT HELPING. I need a patron. A good old fashioned patron of the arts who will pay me to largely lounge around and occasionally write something or take pictures. Applications accepted at the front desk, please include credit history.

    My family is getting more and more bonkers. We've always more or less gotten along - our holiday dinners have been pleasant, wine-soaked affairs with only very minor drama. Something has shifted, and suddenly there is tension beyond belief, temper tantrums, stomping off... And my boyfriend, who is the only one who keeps me sane, doesn't want to come anymore - he stopped going to *his* family's gatherings because of miserable fights and tensions.

    The celebration anxiety is because it's my birthday, my mom's birthday, Father's day etc next week, which entails a family celebration. Which may require massive drugs on my part.

    I will be 31 and my youth has totally and completely gone to waste.

    I've been adhering to these Galaxie 500 lyrics since I actually *was* 23
    Hey you're so old
    You must be 23
    You spent the year
    In a drunken frenzy
    Lied to your friends
    Adopted false ideas
    Quit your job
    Because it made you crazy

    Dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.

    I choose to swear instead. GOD FUCK IT. SHIT ALL. FUCK ALL. FUCK IT. FUCK!

    Did that earlier this week - sufficiently purged, tnx.

    My sin is my lack of ability to "harness my talent". I am not "living up to potential". High school guidance counselors, parents, god I HATE YOU. My god given gifts were NOT given to me by god, they are growing in my belly like a cancer or a grapefruit. My potential is just that. When it becomes kinetic, YOU WILL KNOW.

    make me squirm uncomfortably in my chair
    Not my style.

    In Memorium
    It's not the anniversary of his death or his birthday or anything, but I miss my friend Sean like winter misses sun. Intermittently, but gravely. There's nothing in death but the life you lived before. He never did anything that would get written in the books, but man, a lot of people loved him. Hated him too. But I loved him. He and I used to talk about how we thought we were meant for something better - that someday, we'd do something great. He would have been 25 in a few days, when he died. He always told me he wouldn't make it to 30. He was, as he often was, right.
    • CommentAuthorC_Murphy
    • CommentTimeJun 7th 2008
    I actually went to a school that's somewhat known for its Secret Societies, with the belief that they go on to rule the world under their invisible velvet gloved iron fists, or some complete nonsense like that.

    The truth of it is they're not much more than trumped up drinking clubs that end up becoming networking groups, like Secret Societies and Fraternal Organizations have always been. People you know who can set you up for a party or get you a job. And they still work that way, a number of people who I knew in secret societies got some great job opportunities through them after they graduated and have contacts that mean they'll keep getting them in the future.

    But honestly the world is so networked now that you don't really need these sorts of groups anymore. You can get the same sort of benefits through Facebook or sites like this one, you usually just have to show a little more initiative about it than you would otherwise.

    The benefit of the society being secret wasn't so much that it could hide its actions, rather it was that it offered contacts and opportunities that were available to members only, so once you get in the pool of people you're competing with for those opportunities is small. It also offered an organized structure that meant you could expect those benefits and opportunities to keep coming into the future and not just disappear. Whitechapel (or any community like it) could offer similar benefits, it'd just take a lot of work, effort, coordination and other such things that I know I'm too lazy to bother with.
    • CommentTimeJun 7th 2008 edited
    • CommentAuthorJosephus
    • CommentTimeJun 7th 2008
    Watching funnel clouds form in the not so distant horizon, tornado sirens already sounded, an armored tornado chasing vehicle just passed my apartment. Doom appears imminent. I may not be able to make my trek to Chicago to pay homage to Internet Jesus (Love Swami). Think I'll move to a lower floor now.
  9.  (2512.20)
    Today I got up. I went downstairs to get coffee, and went to check on my grandma and watched her die.
    And then we waited for hospice, my mom and the funeral people.
    And then we went to the funeral place to talk about funeral arrangements, ate dinner, and watched a horse race.
    I don't have anything much to say here. I feel hollow.

    I never got coffee. I can't get the sound of the death-rattle out of my head.