Recordings

Wed, 22 Oct 2008 06:35:34 GMT

Wow. It's been over a year since i've posted in this thing.
Damn.

Vinyl/Plastic Ninjas

Sat, 22 Sep 2007 17:39:36 GMT

Guys, i've got a new addiction: vinyl ninjas.

http://www.gumball-machine.com/vending-toys-1-3.html
http://album.robstarling.org/Small-Bulk-Ninjas-Attack
http://www.orientaltrading.com/application?origin=page.jsp&namespace=browse&event=link.itemDetails&categoryId=342679&BP=330&cm_mmc=Shopping.com-_-datafeed-_-datafeed-_-datafeed&sku=39/1170
http://www.zeesevending.com/Products/BulkToySpecials.htm
http://www.diamond-vending.com/images/nimecv2.jpg

I'll tell you the story of how this all got started.

So it was most likely my freshman or sophomore year that me, my old friend Philip, and Malcolm were hanging out at the local and most beloved convenience store in North Decatur: Morningside Shop. A hand-crank toy vending machine had some neat little items, most noteably vinyl ninjas like the ones you see above. I bought two for the fun of it.
Of course, next thing I know, I take them home, fiddle with them while trying to sleep that night, and the memories come flowing through my head. When I was in elementary school I used to play arcade game after arcade game just to earn me some more of those ninja badasses at the Skate Castle (my previous addictions include toy guns, badly made Street Fighter vinyl knockoffs from China, Japanese Dragonball Z figurines and Z-bots). After which, I would trade them amongst other arcade aesthetes for other ninjas, etc. Like most of these things, however, I eventually lost them all.
The funny thing about the Z-bots and Street Fighter knockoffs was that my granddad both started and helped me finish these collections (not the ninjas). He was close friends with the man who once owned the now defunct Pocket Change arcade, and used this advantage to help me complete my sets. Back on topic:
So I started buying more of the lil dudes, right? They were only 25 cents each, after all. Even Philip and Malcolm took notice and we all collected more and more ninjas every day, even trading 50 cent pieces so we could get our hands on those things and rush back to Malcolm's apartment with the booty. We played with them, traded them, and I even attempted to make a board-game/RPG with them. For us, it was like we were in fifth grade again. We all knew it was immature, but it's not like we didn't have video games. At least it wasn't like when I was four.
At that age, i'd take at least one figure everywhere I went. They unlocked my imagination. They were ANYTHING I wanted: warriors, civilians, soldiers, even lovers (not with other male figures, mind you). Losing them broke my heart time and time again, and I never could really keep up with them.
Eventually, the novelty wore off. I kept my whole collection (still have most of it), and was given the others by Malcolm and Philip, who didn't want their's. I maintained it, keeping one of each color and pose and giving my girlfriend Opal the rest of them.
Here's what makes them special to me: they're a much more effective escape than video games. Action figures have, for many years in my life, inspired stories, attempted novels, card and board games, ideas, and daydream hapiness in general. Plus, they're much cheaper and imaginative than games. I once made fighting arenas out of paper and textbooks (5th Grade)!
It was only recently that I found my old zip-loc bag of the mighty warriors. I moved them to an old pencil bag and began playing with them again. As a result, i've ended up writing another figure-inspired novel (none of them were about the figures, but the ideas I got by having and examining them).
I was bored and typed "plastic ninjas" in Google and have found a bevy of the little guys online, and I plan on buying them up very soon. I want to collect as many varieties as I can. I want to have them because they've cheered me up with afternoons of daydreaming and imagination, and thus have even impacted my life by cheering me up through the worst of times. I don't want to be materialistic here by saying all this. I could live without them. I even give some away from time to time, like I did with Opal. It's a hobby like anyone else's, but instead of stamps, I have ninjas.
Call me childish or immature. I don't care. I want to always have my imagination.

IN OTHER NEWS: I HAVE A WII. I'M STILL DATING OPAL AFTER A YEAR AND 5 MONTHS. I AM NOW A SENIOR.
Thanks.

I'm no longer a Wii virgin.

Mon, 05 Mar 2007 02:47:24 GMT

That's right, bitches. I played the Wii with my friend Liz. Played Wii Sports, WarioWare: Smooth Moves, and Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess.

Fucking awesome.

Grandmother Died

Thu, 08 Feb 2007 00:31:24 GMT

Betty Adele Bass died at 5:53 p.m. on Wednesday, February 7.

The sheer futility of actually putting my emotions into words is truly incomprehensible. If anything can be said, it's that everyone points to a million different tired, stupid, insignifigant statements that are so platitudinal and useless that they come off as insensitive when said. Things like "oh she's gone to that big ______ in the sky" or "maybe it was better this way". Just an ahead of time warning: Don't fucking talk to me tommorow, IF YOU SEE ME. I may not even be at school tomorrow.

These past few years, since my grandmother showed signs of altzheimer's and thus began the inevitably long process of dying, my philosophy on death and life has altered, shifted, and varied (see my blog titled "What is Reality?"). What I know i've realized is that no matter how much we try to conceptualize, theorize, hypothesize, or take shots at what death is really like, we'll never actually know, and we'll all, like humans, continue to wonder and ask questions until it happens and we're too tired to ask the fucking questions.

Does death always come with stupid words with negative prefixes? "Inevitable" "Unavoidable" "Incomprehensible".

This whole damn house isn't full of grandmother's things that were necessary for her living, like I thought they were. No, it's all a bunch of anesthesics; the house is full of things to make her years of slow and undignified death go easier. It's like we've been playing medic the whole time. The concrete patio for her wheelchair, the collection of porcelain cottages, the pictures, the gifts, everything became unclaimed in that second. People don't see that, sometimes. The second someone dies is the very same second that a million moments, belongings, and knick knacks all die too. They have no soul. They're pieces of the same cadavre sitting two rooms away from me.

No sympathy comments anywhere on my livejournal please kthx.

Sat, 27 Jan 2007 22:16:17 GMT

Reply to this post, and I'll tell you one reason I like you. Then put this in your journal, and spread the love!

What is Reality?

Mon, 23 Oct 2006 05:39:21 GMT

Okay so last night, before I fell asleep, I was listening to Eric Whitacre and contemplating the concept of soullessness. Needless to say, this was the beginning of an equation that would completely **** my brain up.
So I had a dream last night, no, a nightmare. Before I slept, the last thought I remember had to do with the Athiest idea of the afterlife. They say that we simply take a dirt nap. But what happens to the sentient part of us, the self-aware? When we lose awareness, time passes infinitely, space no longer exists; an example of such would be when we sleep, when we're under anesthesia, or when someone goes unconscience.

But can you imagine the state of remaining as such forever? Can you possibly fathom the concept of sleeping and never waking up? Is the athiest concept of death like sleep? Try to imagine infinite sleep: infinity passes before your eyes, matter, existance, time, space...all folding, stretching, and increasing faster than imagination can comprehend. Remember, there can be no dreams because your sentience is gone. What is infinite unconscienceness like? Or does one at least retain the subconsciense, so that dreams still exist?

Because sentience, consciousness, and awareness are all purely human qualities. If this is true then, ergo, Animals are soulless. Their behavior is instinct fueled, and animals possess no real personality except that which is carved by instinct, the sub conscience. Human personality is unique because it combines animal instinct (that which we are not aware of or in control of) and the human conscience (that which we are aware and can control). So...if we retain that which we are not aware of, which controls dreams and behavior and adaptation, then do we not reach a point of infinite slumber? Do we dream? Or do we lie with our minds as a black hole, as a sleepless night?

Because if we dream, then heaven may not exist. It may be a dream produced by our subconscience. So then, if that were true, our own lives truly would dictate our afterlives. The lives we live would then produce a dream based on our perspecive and sub-perspective, or as such, what may be a summary of our lives put together by our subconscience. As we have dreams based on past moments and the moments just before we sleep, then would we have the ultimate dream, the final dream, the END ALL OF ALL DREAMS, containing all of our last moments and past moments compiled by our subconscience and replayed in a biased manner by our former conscience, which would no longer belong to us because as we may all know, our conscience would no longer be relevant or substantial according to Athiest philosophy. And besides, do we really have conscience control over our dreams? Are we aware of ourselves in our dreams?
If the above were all true, than the afterlife would be a sort of Matrix, a non-existant world built to pacify us/that is built as a product of our past. But in death, does the sub-conscience die?

Animals, if they truly only possess spirit and not soul, would tecnically be un-aware, right? They would be like plants. No awareness. As if their life is only there for the sake of life. So when they die, all that is left is a body. The spirit may go elsewhere or not exist, although the end of the spirit is not the pressing issue. If the human dies, does the sub-conscience remain? The soul goes, but do our animal sides remain, or leave? Does the soul even exist?

Here's the definition of one's soul, as per this writing: The soul is our human side, the area of our mind containing sentience and conscience. The spirit, the animal side, contains the sub-conscience and instinct that comes with being an animal. Basically, what makes us human is the soul. Without it, we become animal. When we sleep, we lose conscience, so therefore do we not become animals? So if death is like sleep, then we would be stuck in one of two ways: Dream, or dreamless sleep.

Thus, the soul leaves and the animal remains a part of earth. Does the soul disapeer, or enter a new state? If the soul truly does exist as a semi-tangible, incorporeal entity, then it would naturally have to become part of a new state. Since we have no animal side at this juncture, do we become fully aware? Do we retain full control of ourselves, with no animal to change us and no physical state to restrict us? Then, it would be up to us to do as we please with ourselves. We would have full range of existance. Full, complete, ineffable control. We could bend and spin and pass and fold and become, almost as infintely as God. We could go anywhere we please. Change anything about ourselves. We would have an unimaginable power, ineffable wisdom and knowledge and awareness; A ghost with no imaginable bounds in terms of self. Our animal side would be left to rot and the sub-conscience would pacify the beast with sleep. Would we thus be aware of the dream as it happened? Or would we become our own God-like entity? Would we be both? OR, do we remain as the dreaming beast, as our soul becomes a God?

If we became both or aware of both, we would be masters of our own dreams, living in our own afterlives as crafted by our soul. The man would tame the beast, forever.

But do both the soul AND spirit become ejected from the body? If so, then we are Gods in cellular shells. The dream would leave, and we would become unlike anything imaginable.

If this Athiest concept does exist, then we are the true Gods, restricted only by an egg that allows our true God to gestate and grow, and thus be prepared for the throne of God-dom.

But if the athiest concept does not regard soul, then we are only beasts with sentience. Thus, we would have no dream because our spirit would cease to be. There would be no soul to leave, and thus the last entity, the spirit, would be ejected.

If the last statement of the previous paragraph were true, then the untangible, the unfathomable, and the most mysterious fact would come to be. We would know, or be completely unaware of, our fate both corporeally and ethereal. If we were to lose conscience in our death, would we not become stuck in eternal, dreamless slumber? Then, like sleep, time and matter would pass infinitly, only we would never wake up.

We would, without any knowing, be trapped in a black hole. Time and space and matter would pass infinitely on, forever, in a state on not existing. It would be the edge of all physical existance. The thing that no scientist, philosopher, or physicist can ever truly explain. We would become one with it, and our self would be gone forever. Ergo, do we become one with the universe, or silent observers?

In my nightmare, I saw all of these examples before my eyes.

I died.

I became the soul, the God, staying on earth as a ghost and watching in pain as my loved ones lost me in the folds of air. I became a memory, passing through all matter, flying, seething, oozing, solidifying, summarizing, completely aware and knowledgeable beyond anything the brain could come up with. Or was it my brain's limit? Did I NOT see all?

I became one with the planet and the universe, as well. At once, as the ghost, I became fully aware of everything. As the sleeper, I became nothing. I saw nothing. I saw myself, not seeing forever as it passed. I heard the voices as they screamed nothing. I saw the wind blow past me with unheard of power and force, and yet I did not feel any of it upon my body or even my cheek. Or did my mind reach its full potential, as it was restricted by the beast? Did it exceed the limits of the spirit, or did it remain pressed against it's imprisoning bars?

If we can be aware of everything or nothing, then is reality not the balance of both? Is it not the scientific everything, and the supernatural nothing? Then reality must be something that we will never truly know. We will never know the beast OR the soul, completely, until they are wretched apart to be observed separately. One dictates the other. One changes the other. One does not become itself without the other. Ergo, we can never know both parts because one is telling us about the other with bias. One counters the other. One slanders the other. One is the foil for the other. One contradicts the other. They argue, until finally they are wretched apart. Then and only then will we know what everything is, so that we may separate it from what nothing is.

Then, Religion won't matter. Only fact.

~SP

The moral here, kids? Death will decide what happens, so do beliefs really matter? No human is sure what life after death is because the animal and man are arguing. The noise covers up the truth and biases the counterpart.

Why I'm in CAS

Mon, 16 Oct 2006 01:23:03 GMT

Everyone is asking me why I wrote graffiti all over the walls of the bathroom in the english hall, so here is my full explaination.

You people are lucky that I explain anything at all, because I should NOT have to justify my actions. What I do is MY business, and the punishment I take for it is MY business. The only real reasons I do this is to

A) Stop the gossip before it starts (AMANDA STERLING!!!); and

B) To let people understand the signifigance of what I did.

First off, I believe strongly in graffiti as a signifigant art form. It not only requires an artistic eye, but alot of courage and agility. In fact, the first instance of american graffiti as a major instance was Philadelphia in the 1960s, when members of the CPUSA (the Communist Party of the United States of America) wrote slogans on walls of buildings to express not only their views in brief, but to symbolically express the communist idea that all government and private property belongs to THE PEOPLE OF AMERICA, as opposed to slumlords and corporate big-wigs. It was the 1970s, however, when graffiti become more than just a political soapbox. Hip-hop pioneers of the time, such as TAKI 183 and Lee Quinones, introduced a sense of artistry to graffiti writing, which evolved steadily because of competition between artist to be seen and recognized.
Graffiti still exists today for several reasons; Gang activity, politically radical activity, and artistic achievement being some. It is the first reason I mentioned that has made citizens and people as a whole in America have misjudgements about graffiti.

GRAFFITI, WHETHER OR NOT IT IS GANG RELATED, IS STILL ART BECAUSE OF IT'S SIGNIFIGANCE SYMBOLICALLY AND LITERALLY.

ALSO, NOT ALL GRAFFITI IS GANG RELATED.

The reasons that connects all of these aforementioned, is simple: These people either cannot afford art materials, or simply want to get a message out that is too radical to be seen without causing an outside factor to forcibly remove it from the public eye.
The message portrayed indirectly by ALL graffiti is that of unrest and dissatisfaction with the system: the reason they want their message out or the reason they join gangs. It is an indirect rebellion against the system or systems it tags. It may not be against that system, but simply asks for a sort of reform or change in that system.

::::now to the point::::

You're probably asking yourselves: "Now Brian. What do you have to rebel against? You're a good student with a formerly clean discipline record" Well, i'm what you call "outspoken" I have alot to say and other people saying things louder. In fact, many of you remember when I started out in 9th grade, before joining my hip-hop crew Southside Soldiers.
I started out simply enough: I just wanted to get my message out to the people. I wrote quotes on walls, small tags.
By 10th, I started to loathe DHS more and more, as I witnessed racism and disrespect towards students exercized by faculty and staff at DHS. I saw more and more students punished and discriminated against because of their skin, their clothes, their religions, social rank, and economic rank. This caused me to write more and more, eventually settling with using sticker tagging for quick throw-ups. I also rebelled against the rapidly increasing gang activity at school and in Decatur by tagging over gang graffiti and slandering gang names; I figured "hey, if the city and the school system won't do anything about it, then I will". I often incorporated christian and catholic ideas into my art, mixing religion, art, and politic.
About the same time as 11th grade started for me, I became a founding member and producer for the hip-hop crew Southside Soldiers. Also, the rise of the IB program angered me to NO END, because of it's "sweeping reforms" on the education system that include RAPING the yearly budget, cutting out programs/downsizing others, and adding educational burdens to students NOT participating in IB.

And did you know that only a small percentage (approx. less than 2% or lower) of students benefit from IB?

The fact that a group of politicians, money and position-hungry Board of Education Members, and nouveau riche republicans with bratty, spoiled kids can ruin the educations of others for their own petty needs REALLY TICKS ME OFF.

As well, most of you know what my father is going through, and this greatly influenced my throw-ups and stickers by incorporating the word "Innocent".

At last, I knew I had enough of it all. My artistry was already God-fueled, with an objective to get people to think out of the ordinary and see things differently, even for a second, just so one of God's children could see things with a different lens.

And before you say anything. Before you go saying that graffiti isn't christian. I DARE YOU TO GIVE ME ONE BIBLE VERSE that specifically forbids christians from spreading the gospel through art.

My tags turned into throw-ups, which turned into pieces that covered entire walls. I won't say where or when, or what these looked like because my situation is delicate enough. It just so happened that one day, while tagging a wall, someone saw what I did (but not while I did it) and told Mrs. Hillis.

I believe that my art is an example of Civil Disobedience and protest, so I willingly admitted my "crime" and took the punishment. I did nothing wrong. I simply did what I felt was right.

In protesting and in Civil Disobedience, the key message is this: that just because something is made illegal, doesn't necessarily make it morally wrong. So, I did the right thing, and got punished for it.

I wrote graffiti for Jesus, for God, for my Politics, for my friends, and most importantly, for my father. And I got persecuted for it.

There. That's my reason.

~SP

P.S. I'm not the only Soul Power out there, nor am I the only active graf artist.

TO OZ!!!

Mon, 28 Aug 2006 22:34:51 GMT

HELLO!!!
I'm sorry it's been so long since i've posted, everyone. I've recently started making hip-hop music. Check it out!!!

ONE LOVE

~Brian

DO THIS NOW

Sun, 20 Aug 2006 04:25:52 GMT

1. I WAS RIGHT NEXT 2 YOU:
2. I KISSED YOU:
3. I LIVED NEXT DOOR 2 YOU:
4. I STARTED SMOKING:
5. I SAID I WANTED TO SCREW YOU:
6. I WAS HOSPITALIZED:
7. I WAS DRUNK:
8. I LICKED YOU:
9. I ASKED YOU TO LEAVE:
10. I ASKED YOU OUT:

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT MY?
12. PERSONALITY:
13. EYES:
14. HAIR:

WOULD YOU?
15. BE MY FRIEND?
16. KISS ME?
17. MAKE-OUT WITH ME?
18. GO ON A DATE WITH ME?
19. KEEP IN TOUCH?
20. DATE ME?

HAVE YOU EVER?
21. LIED TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER?
22. WANTED TO KISS ME?
23. WANTED TO BE WITH ME?
24. KEPT SOMTHING IMPORTANT FROM ME?
25. WANTED TO CUDDLE WITH ME?
26. HAD A DIRTY DREAM OF ME?

AND MORE!
27. WHO ARE YOU?
28. ARE WE FRIENDS?
29. WHEN AND HOW DID WE MEET?
30. DESCRIBE ME IN ONE WORD:
31. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST IMPRESSION?
32. WHAT REMINDS YOU OF ME?
33. IF YOU COULD GIVE ME ANYTHING WHAT WOULD IT BE?
34. HOW WELL DO YOU KNOW ME?
35. WHEN'S THE LAST TIME YOU SAW ME?
36. EVER WANTED TO TELL ME SOMeTHING BUT COULDN'T?
37. ARE YOU GONNA POST THIS SO YOU CAN SEE WHAT I SAY ABOUT YOU?

How do you LJ-CUT? I forgot.

Wed, 12 Jul 2006 15:32:35 GMT

So day before yesterday I went to Six Flags with Opal and it was AMAZING. The morning ride was us lying on the bus feeling groggy, but nevertheless was nice because we cuddled and listened to music alot of the way there. We stopped at McDonald's eventually and ate some breakfast, then made our way to the land of coasters and bugs bunny.
I went on my first coaster that day. Y'know what it was? The Georgia Cyclone. BIG MISTAKE. See, I had bet Opal a quarter that I wouldn't enjoy it in hopes of making her happy. Sadly, even if I had tried to lie and say it was fun, she'd see right through me. I was visibly shaken at the end of it all and I did NOT have fun. She kept grabbing my hand and telling me that it was shaking very violently. I felt like a jerk, and I told her, and she kept saying it was her fault. I still felt like a coward.
I wanted to be brave and go on the Batman with her, but she refused. I promised her i'd go on the next one our group went to (our "group" included Katie, Ashley, who is a friend of Opal's, and me and Opal). Sadly, that one was the Mindbender. If I had never felt the wraith of God that day, then I sure realized it then. She didn't say anything to me while riding the cyclone, but when we got on the Mindbender, she constantly clinged onto me saying "I LOVE YOU BABY" and grabbed my hand or arm. So the Mindbender she made bearable.
Most of the day, however, I followed her around as she went from coaster to coaster. It wasn't bad, really, I just sat there and held her's and Ashley's purses, as well as the stuffed animals that Ashley won (Opal and I tried desperately to win each other prizes, but to no avail). Eventually we had dinner at this themed restaraunt (50's Malt, lol), which consisted of expensive-ass burger and fries that...honestly? I don't know if it was worth 11$. I got to eat next to my baby though, and that was all that mattered.
We went on a few more rides, including a spinny thingy, a log ride, and another coaster (which was low to the ground, so I LOVED it). Eventually, we spent our last few minutes getting our money together to buy matching handcuff bracelets (which we didn't have the money for).
OH YEAH! I almost forgot to mention one of my most favorite parts. Me and Opal went on the skyboxes by ourselves? Let me just say she told me that i'm a great kisser.
Ride Home: Sore legs, our dogs barking, tired, exhausted, sleepy, thirsty, and out of our minds. We talked and carried on, but eventually we settled down together and talked about the day. We gave each other little kisses, cuddled, fell asleep in each other's arms, etc. We sang to each other and to God, too. It was amazing how well she sang, even despite screaming all day from coasters.
I slept well that night.

Last night, however...horrible.

I dreamt that I was visiting Ashleigh in a distant future. She lived on a farm, her hair was a natural reddish-brown again, and she had a family. I was there to be her friend and to catch up. Things were okay for her. I cried for our past on occasions, and she comforted me. I spent the night there in a guest room in what seemed like a gigantic house.
Now this is the part where I had a dream within a dream.
There was a boiling desert, whose landscape was frayed, cratered, and turned into what looked like hell. A war was being waged, and all the animals in the world were pitted against each other. Teeth, bullets, blood, flesh, and every bodily fluid and part imaginable flew freely in the air, giving the dead an even more potent stench. I stood on the outskirts of the horrifying battle, naked. Suddenly, a horrible rage built up, and I charge the fray, my fists hitting whatever animal I could get my hands on. I eventually grew fatigued, cried, and layed down to die. A bull, however, took to gently nuzzling me inbetween crushing and masticating bone and flesh. Eventually, he took me in his mouth, placed me outside the battle, and charged back in. I woke up from my dreams wanting to cry and horribly missing Ashleigh.
I wonder how she's doing.
If it weren't so early, i'd call Opal and maybe she could keep me from crying.
I might call Ashleigh again. I might not.

Sat, 01 Jul 2006 17:33:15 GMT

Leave your name and:

1. I'll respond with something random about you

2. I'll challenge you to try something

3. I'll pick a color that I associate with you

4. I'll tell you something I like about you

5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you

6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of

7. I'll ask you something I've always wanted to ask you

EVERYONE ELSE DID IT!!
*Follower*

A MySpace bulletin I put up

Sun, 25 Jun 2006 00:51:27 GMT

HELLO ALL!!!
Most of you know I (Brian Verchot) have been publishing and editing a magazine for Decatur HS and Austin HS called Jacket Thief. All of us work very hard to bring an alternate publication for our fellow HS students to read, other than the usual sports and classroom news that we're given regularly. We want to give the students something better to read, something unusual, interesting, and real.
Please help us out by putting this banner on your MySpace:

(just push reply to poster, cut, then paste into your profile)
Our publication is free to all Decatur City Schools students. PLEASE SUPPORT THE MOVEMENT TO BRING A BETTER PUBLICATION TO OUR SCHOOLS!!! Re-post this with the subject line "Jacket Thief Magazine". Feel free to email me at jacketthiefjudd@gmail.com for more info or if you wanna get involved!

Thu, 22 Jun 2006 23:52:19 GMT

Thu, 22 Jun 2006 17:50:41 GMT

Wellllll...the time has come.
I need a job.
Every damn friend I have has a job now, so I have nobody to hang out with. Plus, not only do I need funding for Jacket Thief, but I gotta get money for Junior Prom and possibly a trip to Ireland. "Why don't you ask your parents, Brian?" They don't have any fucking money left. Dad's stuck working for the Morgan County School System (or as I call it, the Westborough Reprogramming Institute) and mom works her ass hard enough as it is. If i'd have given two tugs of a dead dog's cock about my life, I would've had one already. None of my siblings ever needed a job, and never got one until after HS, so i'll be the first Verchot in my immediate family to have a pre-HS career.
Hell, if i'd have given a two tugs about anything having to do with my career, I would've done better in school. It's hard to be grateful for anything when you're a teenager, considering your blood's pumped fed to you from an IV called Dad's wallet. For once in my life, I realize that I have to get my own heart to work and pump shit in my veins b/c dad's run out. I finally have to be considerate and make my own goddamn money instead of leech of my parents like a big fucking baby.
I've had that problem for a long time now. They say every teenager has a crisis in their lives where they realize they have to take responsibilities and consequences, where they realize they're not babies anymore and miss their childhood. I've cried many sleepless nights over this, and now I realize I have many more to cry on. I'm taking the first definite step from childhood to manhood (other than puberty). And it fucking sucks.

"I can change the world with my own two hands..."

Thu, 15 Jun 2006 16:22:06 GMT

I finally saw Opal again since May. I had to give her money for a church trip on the 10th and I loaned her my driver's manual. She came down to the office, and she gave me the biggest hug ever and was just...It felt like I hadn't seen her in forever. It seemed surreal, really, as if none of it were happening and I was experiencing some sort of fantasy. I love feeling her arm around mine, how she clung to me like i'd fall off the earth if I wasn't completly attached to her side. She was gorgeous. She wasn't even prepaired to see me, lol. She had some shoes slipped on last minute, her hair up & kinda messy, a tank top and shorts...she was radiant. I mean, i've seen her wear really nice dress clothes, and I thought she looked gorgeous. Yet this casual and laid back clothing as if not ready to even go outside...it was seraphic. I don't know if something's wrong with me or what, but...dang. She was so soft too...like a bed after an exhausting and rough day. I shouldn't have even said anything to her; I should've just sat there and held her in my arms. I'm being mushy here; just ignore this post.

stolen from aujsayshi

Mon, 12 Jun 2006 17:18:04 GMT

Post an anonymous comment with the following:
1. One secret
2. One compliment
3. One non-compliment
4. One love note, but it does not have to be for me
5. Lyrics to a song
6. How old you are
7. How long we've been friends
8. And a hint to who you are
9. After you do it for me, put it in your LJ and see who does it for you.

Please just reveal yourself after a while, on AIM or in person or otherwise or whatever. I hate not knowing things. And please take this seriously and be honest.

I'm bored.

Mon, 05 Jun 2006 07:17:37 GMT

So i'm sitting here, and Malcolm, Philip, and Caleb all snuck out to hang out with this chick who lives halfway down the street (they're hanging out at Walter Jackson).
So...
Since the summer after 8th grade, the concept of sneaking out has become a non-entity. With the increased gang activity and increased pig patrol, the outdoors is not safe at night. I keep thinking in my mind that either Philip's mom is gonna wake up and ask where they are, or the cops are gonna call about them. Or, in a worst-case scenario, they'll actually have a good story to tell (good, meaning a jack-assed, exagerrated, and completly retarded). I don't know whether or not i'm being a coward or being the bigger man for staying at home and not disobeying the promise I made to mom not to do anything wrong.

Tue, 30 May 2006 00:54:34 GMT

To all the ppl whining about the fact that my last post is a month old...

I'M NOT DEAD.

Thank you.

Thu, 20 Apr 2006 00:44:21 GMT

Reposted from ladjaynecobb.

Go look at this poor girl's face, and spread this so hopefully this asshole will be caught. He's from Mountain Brook and currently on the run. This guy needs to be locked up.

http://niamhstar.livejournal.com/

If ANYONE knows where this guy is please contact the New Orleans Police IMMEDIATELY!...

the only info I could find is:
New Orleans Police Dept
(504) 658-6080
715 S Broad St
New Orleans, LA 70119

his name is:
William Hamlet Hunt

PLEASE REPOST!

(I don't figure anyone I know knows this guy, but there's a link to his LJ on her post, where there are a couple of pictures of him on his profile. I figure if nothing else somebody might see him or something.)PLEASE REPOST!

Chernota

Sun, 16 Apr 2006 21:49:56 GMT

I finished it! http://movies.lionhead.com/movie/75072

EDIT: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE watch it!!!

F*cking computers.

Sun, 16 Apr 2006 01:15:48 GMT

I have this game called "The Movies", right? You can write your own scripts and stuff, its pretty cool.
But anyway, I work on a movie for FOUR FREAKING HOURS...
...and it crashes.
Somedays I wish I could just *smack* Bill Gates and Peter Molyneaux.

If anyone else said it, i'd be disgusted.

Fri, 14 Apr 2006 19:06:25 GMT

I have a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad cold today.
Did I ever tell you guys that I have a new girlfriend? Her name is Opal.
But anyway, I called Opal to whine (to show off my whine collection, RODNEY) and complain about my cold, and she said "you need to put a hot washcloth on your forehead and have some tissues and a garbage can nearby, cause it's gonna RUN!"

...Lord knows why I find that adorable coming out of her mouth.

Thu, 13 Apr 2006 00:22:27 GMT

Wed, 12 Apr 2006 02:24:35 GMT

http://www.namedecoder.com/

EDIT:

That's more like it.

Not for the faint of heart...

Mon, 10 Apr 2006 20:49:38 GMT

http://www.bradp.co.uk/fredryk/Video/WMV/FPSP_Part1.wmv