So not that long ago I decided I want to open a store. Im over that. Now I want to me a standup comedian or be in some kind of improve comedy troop.

also it pisses me off when people speak to people learning english in broken english. i understand slowing down what you are saying but like most of them understand so you dont need to yell fragments at them. they wont learn that way. im out of it. and here.

sext messages

"layer she chuckled, not layers, ding dongs!"

some how i lost most of all the ones i sent

"at my last tupperwear party i asked if there was a container large enough to fit all of my regrets"

"hahahahah the answer? sadly no"

"she really wanted to please him. And then just be4 orgasm she looked at his face and it was like looking into the windows of an empty house."

"it was inded the sound of her head collapsing into the deep abyss of her stomach never to be found again. the relief came from knowing her hopes and heart had grown cold, never to feel that agonizing pain again, the pain of being pushed aside. Emptiness remained, umwilling to shatter."

"he brushed away my affections as if they were spiderwebs on his face."

"from my eyes, maybe to penetrate my secretless eyes, to gain more life. his smirk led me to believe he was hiding somthing. always withholding and i always clawing, tearing at thin air to get some relief, some fucking explanation for these bizarre trysts."

"i slid my shorts to my ankles, slowly, prolongign the experience because i knew itd be more gratifying that way, like with so many other things in life."


how did i erase them??? why???? how??/

pink panther S&M walk

its thundering and lightening

and jessica is here

Scientology

Cult Friction
After an embarrassing string of high-profile defection and leaked videos, Scientology is under attack from a faceless cabal of online activists. Has America's most controversial religion finally met its match?
By John Cook

This article is from the April issue of Radar Magazine. For a risk-free issue, click here

Clearwater is prepared for its enemies. It's a warm, if overcast, Saturday in February, but all the storefronts lining the sidewalks of this sleepy town on the Gulf Coast of Florida are shuttered. The streets are mostly barren, and at the sight of strangers, the few passersby quicken their pace and avert their eyes. Outwardly, Clearwater has all the hallmarks of an unexceptional beach community—there's a Starbucks on the corner, and new construction projects dot the shoreline. But today the cranes are still and the scaffolding is empty. No one is lining up for lattes. Everyone, it seems, has disappeared.

"There's one!" says Patricia Greenway, my guide, as we drive past a dark-haired woman in black slacks and a short-sleeve white shirt. When she notices us eyeballing her through the car window, she raises her hand like a scandalized starlet confronting the paparazzi. "See—she's hiding her face," Greenway says quietly, sounding like the host of an Animal Planet safari special. "They feel that if they're exposed to entheta, they'll lose their bridge."

Their "bridge" is the "Bridge to Total Freedom," the path to enlightenment, levitation, time travel, and all-around invincibility peddled by L. Ron Hubbard under the name Scientology. "Entheta" is us. The enemy.

Ever since Hubbard, the portly flame-haired naval enthusiast, accomplished liar, pulp fiction writer, and unlikely cult leader, came ashore here in 1975 after leading his flock on an eight-year sea voyage throughout Europe and the Mediterranean, Clearwater has been known as the "spiritual mecca" of Scientology. Members call it Flag Land Base. Beginning with its purchase of the Fort Harrison Hotel that year, the Church has methodically acquired most of downtown Clearwater, save for the library and the courthouse, amassing nearly 1.7 million square feet of office and residential space and turning the city center into a virtual Scientology campus. More than 1,200 Church staff members, and somewhere between 5,000 and 12,000 Scientologists—including Kirstie Alley (who purchased her home from Lisa Marie Presley)—live and work here. Which is exceedingly creepy, especially when they're nowhere to be found. Even so, I am skeptical when Greenway and her associate, Peter Alexander, both outspoken critics of Scientology, hesitate to get out of the car and walk around. What could really happen to us? The sidewalk is still ostensibly public property.

Alexander, a soft-spoken former vice president of Universal Studios who now lives near Clearwater, attained the Church's second-highest level of spiritual awakening, OT VII, or Operating Thetan level seven, before he defected in 1997. At one point, Alexander says, he was so consumed with Scientology that he carried around a Church-issued beeper that alerted him whenever his minders decided he required counseling. Greenway, a no-nonsense blonde with a pack-a-day voice and an easy laugh, was never a Scientologist. Alexander hired her in the mid-'90s at his architectural design firm, which at the time was run using Hubbard's principles; she resisted the workplace pressure to join Scientology and eventually convinced Alexander to leave the Church. They both joined the board of the Lisa McPherson Trust—a now-defunct anti-Scientology organization that battled the Church in Clearwater for years—and made a feature-length film called The Profit about a megalomaniacal leader named L. Conrad Powers who founds the Church of Scientific Spiritualism.

Greenway and Alexander have steered clear of downtown Clearwater for several months and fear that if they're spotted in the area, the Church will unleash private investigators on them (as they claim it has in the past), and that a new wave of troubling phone calls and attempts to meddle with their business will commence. This strikes me as paranoid. Eventually, we park the car and get out. Alexander points to a Greek-columned stone building that once housed the town bank. It is now the headquarters of the Office of Special Affairs, the Church's public relations arm and current incarnation of the Guardian Office, which was the epicenter of the black-bag hijinks for which Scientology is famous—infiltrating the Department of Justice, hatching schemes (which were never fully realized) to blackmail critics, bugging IRS offices, and so forth. A discreetly posted security camera peeks out from atop the building. "They've got 110 cameras downtown," Alexander says. "Just wait."

Within minutes, a paunchy middle-age Latino man with a pencil-thin mustache, wearing khakis and a white golf shirt, emerges from the adjoining parking lot. He walks silently to a spot a few feet away from us, points a digital camera, and begins snapping our picture. I say hello. He says nothing. I ask him if he's a member of the Church. He stares, grim-faced, at the camera's LCD screen. Alexander and Greenway are casual; they've been through this before.

As we continue down the sidewalk, a bus with tinted windows passes by. Greenway explains that it's a Scientology bus. The Church leaders don't trust the staff to own cars, she says, and they don't want them walking around with entheta, either.

Greenway points across the street. The venetian blinds in the storefront opposite have been opened to reveal an office with at least half a dozen people inside. One of them, a clean-cut young man, is standing by the window, pointing a video camera, and slowly pivoting to keep us in the frame as we make our way down Cleveland Street.

The Scientologists are monitoring their enemies. And they are expecting more to come.

worthless

so i just tried to paint

I WANT TO FUCKING RIP SOME ONES HEAD OFF

this fucking sucks

i used to be so fucking good and now it just doenst work. my hands dont move like the did. somthing. i dont fucking know but i want to scream!!!!!!!!!!!!

i fucked up dropping out of art school real good

really fucking fucked up

now what the fuck am i doing

im a assistant

i should have a fucking assistant!!!!!!

fucking painting what the fuck motherfuckerfuckingFUCKYOU!!!!!!!!!!!

why wjy jwyyyyyyjdfl;jadslk;fgjds AHHHHHHHHHHHH

im going to eat cause all i do is eat and sleep and work and sometimes smoke weed

fucking shit

slumps

wouldnt it be easier if i wasnt me and i was her or her or her.

dont think that way.

or what if i was her that would be better.

how about you clean my room?

how about that...

it would be strange but nice...

i need to get out and meet new people although i do really love some of my friends like really really love them its time for some spice.

and this funk whats with this funk.

you think its gone but its not.

it never is.

i just want to play in the park and sing songs and smile and laugh and look up jokes online and play in the garden and go to the cape for the weekend and stay in a little inn like vanessa wants to do and swing on the swings and make crowns with flowers and put the yellow flowers on your face and rub them in and tell you its cause your sweet but really it does that to everyone.

and more so much more.

fuck.

it's for you. its always been for you.

do you believe in signs
sometimes people say your looking for them thats why they are not a sign
they say your subconsciously finding them on purpose
or that its a coinkydink
but i dont agree
i dont go out looking for them
but every where i go
everything i see
is a sign
maybe its not a sign and who knows what it means
but i think everything you do and every thing you see serves some purpose
who knows what that purpose is
or what it will lead to
but i think there is a reason
and i think seing something over and over is a sign
what it means i dont know
but it mean something
something i dont know but want to know

ramble ramble

i love you vanessa and jaimie

those boots

"A close Friend"
Eng 261
Paper 2
Women and Their Bloody Valentines: Beauty and the Beast

Fascination with serial killers, murderers and criminals is neither unique nor strange, but when the average women falls in love with one it takes a turn for the bizarre. Because of the peculiarity of these situations these women should be studied and Sheila Isenberg’s article Women Who Love Men Who Kill” investigates this truly unique ordeal. The question begs to be answered and these women are extraordinary in that they can seemingly see past their betrothed’s bloody past and see the human being behind the cold, steel barred walls. The women in Isenberg’s article clearly seek fantasy and avoid the normal and ordinary. They believe in romantic love, passion, and find it in these incarcerated murderers. Is it noble of them to have the ability to see the human within the killer or are they just insane, deluded by these criminal masterminds, and in turn taken advantage of? This paper will examine the remarkably strange reasons behind why ostensibly everyday women fall in love with brutal killers.
Passion seems to be paramount in sustaining these types of relationships. As Ethel Spector Person as noted in Isenberg’s article, “Passions are the great moving forces in people’s lives.” She goes on to say the bonding of two human beings gives the feeling of “enlargement” and metaphorically she is correct, when one finds that special, exceptional person it is often described as a larger than life feeling, making that particular person (ideally both) feel on top of the world. Isenberg explains that this excitement that typically is felt through the “new” beginning stages of a relationship is what women who fall in love with murderers seek all the time, constant excitement, which they find through their devoted, committed killers, who are tucked safely behind bars. Women who love these killers seek constant excitement and they use love as their means to attain this thrill, “These women also have an idealized and romanticized perception that love between man and woman is based on constant passion, unsatisfied yearnings, and ungratified desires” (125-126). If something is constantly missing, not because of anything directly the man or woman can be blamed for in their daily lives, but based on some outside force (the law) the woman continuously wants more and more because she is being denied (and it is out of her hands). This kind of self-imposed frustration serves as an aphrodisiac for the woman and her jailed, untraditional prince charming. This irrational, fantasized notion of true love behind bars is fit for a soap opera and it’s just that that makes this relationship never burn out and grow tiresome, but it is unrealistic love. These women are seduced by danger,” and they accept passion by means of suffering” (134). They feel all the time what a person may feel about an action movie where the “bad guy” is charismatic, we hope that just maybe he’ll get away with it and that’s ok because he’s just so charming and possibly a “good guy” underneath it all, and at least he’s not dull.
Isenberg categorizes some of these women as being seekers of courtly, old-fashioned romances. These sub-categories include, no sex, no marriage, only passion, companionship, drama and illusion. She makes a comparison to the “medieval concept of courtly love, which downplayed marriage and sexual encounters between knights and their ladies in favor of endless courtship” (126). It is an insightful observation and theory in relation to bored women longing for something more, something different. So they are escapists and mange to “soar above the earth and its mundanity, escaping from the trivia and pain—and the reality—of daily life” (126). They will never experience the routine and sometimes monotony that a modern, pragmatic relationship presents. They’ll never experience awkward silences, because there is so much to say, as visiting hours are brief and few in-between. It’s a desperate, raw moment of intensity through the window that separates the doomed beast and the hopeless, unconventional idealistic romantic. They’ll also never have the experience of finding out some secret or flaw their significant other is hiding from them, with their criminal lover everything is known from the beginning and their dark secret may still be dark, but is no secret and so there are no shocking surprises, the cats out of the bag, so to speak.
In returning to Isenberg’s point about medieval courtly love and its following sub-categories, there is no sexual intercourse between women and their imprisoned boyfriends and in old-fashioned courtships sex was not priority. In her article and the women she interviews on the matter, “expressed revulsion at sex in public visiting rooms” (127), solidifying this comparison between courtly love and women and their incarcerated spiritual lovers. Another seducing factor in this type of love is the responsibility the woman takes for softening their aggressive counterpart. They feel responsible for “transforming” their men into loving, sweethearts even with all the damage they have tolerated. They’ve beaten the odds. This notion of damaged, or abandonment that the women feel these men have suffered weakens their (women) sensibilities and they want to be the one to take credit for the great change,” being responsible for the transformation of another human being who loves her enough to flower, is made to feel special” (127). In a way, all the pain and suffering these men have endured transfers onto the women, who release it from their consciousness and frees them (at least symbolically). The women perhaps feel a sense of pleasurable sacrifice in their strong capabilities of loving such “beasts.” The women who love these men, in turn, feel stronger for being so understanding as to love such a vicious, hard man. They live somewhat vicariously through these dangerous offenders, gaining strength through them because of the uneasy and bizarre circumstances surrounding it. Also if these men ever do wrong by their faithful women visitors, they can simply attribute and blame it on his criminal record and he won’t be a bother because he will either be executed or stay locked in prison. Seems like the easiest way to get over an ex-boyfriend. The steel bars that contain their convicts protect the women emotionally and literally.
Marriage is another infrequent occurrence when studying the history of courtly love, and it is no different with the modern love affairs between murderer and woman. They have the option to marry and of course many do, but as Isenberg states “their relationships are hardly intimate; they can’t relate as normal husband and wives” (129). Isenberg talks about “separation and loss” the couple must understand will take place, making their time very short and intensified because it is under such strenuous, yet romantic circumstances, as there is a limit and time put on their interactions; they savor every moment of the pointless, yet exciting affair. They are “choosing to have a relationship that exists in an artificial, repressive, and threatening environment” (129). Companionship is something Isenberg discusses as foreign to murderer and the woman who loves him. Companionship is reached in a relationship when it is at its healthiest, relaxed and nurturing. The intensity of this unhealthy relationship never has a dull moment, which allows it to remain at a standstill state of love. It is one-dimensional, existing only on passion and that does not fulfill or make a long relationship, but these women must understand their romance can only be a brief one. “These women urgently seek a love that causes discomfort and pain because they want to ride the crests of the waves, lingering over the highs and lows, suffering intensely, denying themselves the normalcy of an average, everyday kind of relationship” (134). Even if they do have hope that their partner will be released, there must be another side that hopes that they never be free because then they would find out they are just normal people and their idealized perception of them was only an illusion. That person never existed, which would end the romantic fantasy.
Murderers perpetuate this fantasy these women yearn for and are able to bridge that gap between reality and fantasy for them, Isenberg describes them as mirroring heroes in romance novels, “these heroes are long, lean, and mean—but also loving, caring, and giving to the women who win their hearts” (138). Isenberg interviews many women and their attitudes toward their loved ones and they describe them in very positive light. They portray them as intelligent, misunderstood, philosophizing men.
There is also this sense of mysteriousness that shrouds their love affair; it causes people to wonder, PhD’s, professors and the public in general. Imagine how special these women feel to be the focus of so many people. And no matter how much they are studied and theories are established to try and pin down these somewhat enigmatic women and the capacity of their love, only they (beauty and her misunderstood beast) will know what goes on between them. What they have is unquestionably unique and questionably special and will remain atypical and an extraordinary topic of study.


























"I once had a friend named aly harris
but last year she moved to paris
over there she met a lamb
she ate it for dinner and called it ham
One day she was walking with a curve
and an old drunk gentlemen could not swerve

She walked into the drunkards back
and give him a good old fashioned wack
the drunkard cried with pain and glee
ripping off his pauper clothes for all to see

Aly cried, "you are so gross I want to cry"
And the hold man said ,"would you like some pie?"
Aly wanted pie a lot
for she had smoked a fanny pack of pot

popsicles and pick up sticks
and lots of bisquick mix"


-J.K.S. april 29 2006

news worthy to me

Man Believes His Dead Wife is Contacting Him Via Cell Phone
Posted Apr 2nd 2008 11:01AM by Joshua Fruhlinger
Filed under: Cell Phones
"It was five years ago when Frank Jones' wife and son died unexpectedly. His son, Steven, died of a brain tumor at an early 32. Three months later, his wife, Sadie died from a heart attack at the age of 69.

Sadie was a cell phone addict. "She always had a mobile with her," Jones told the Blackpool Gazette. So, of course, they buried Sadie with her cell phone.

Now Jones believes Sadie is getting service six feet under, and she has been sending him text messages with words only Sadie would say. Of course, there is no return number on the messages or missed calls, leading Jones to believe the communications are form his deceased wife.

Creepy? Yes. But here's where things get creepier: The house Jones lives in has a history of hauntings from a being called "The Thornton Thing". The entity drove a family from the house in 1971, and after the Jones family suffered hauntings as well, they had the house exorcised.

It wasn't until the untimely deaths of his wife and son did Jones start experiencing messages from beyond. The obvious question we can't help asking: What kind of service does one get up there? She's clearly getting a lot of dropped calls."


i just wish i could post the picture of the man and his wife. he is wearing a blondie teeshit. i hope this link works forevevr.

http://www.switched.com/2008/04/02/man-believes-his-dead-wife-is-contacting-him-via-cell-phone/

go look at him AHHH hahahha



"Witchdoctor killings condemned
Thu Apr 3, 2008 11:20am EDT
NAIROBI (Reuters) - Tanzania's President Jakaya Kikwete has condemned witchdoctors who kill albinos and harvest their body parts in the hope it will bring prosperity.

He said 19 albinos had been murdered since March 2007, and another two were missing presumed dead in the east African country.

"Sometimes, word spreads around that body parts of people with certain physical attributes like bald people or albinos contribute greatly to attaining quick prosperity," Kikwete said in a monthly state of the nation speech late on Wednesday.

"These killings are shameful and distressing to our society," he added.

Albinos are often accused in Tanzania of being witches themselves.

There are an estimated 270,000 people who suffer from the condition which stops them producing pigment in their skin, hair and eyes in the country of 39 million.

Kikwete blamed charlatan witchdoctors, many masquerading as traditional healers, for extracting body parts such as genitals, tongues and breasts.

"Many of the witchcraft killings happen because of a false belief that by using other peoples' body parts they can succeed in business or in activities like mining or fishing," Kikwete said.

Most killings took place in the Victoria region and were committed by gangs for hire, he said."