Zero Shrived

zeroshriver @ 2009-10-02T13:16:00

2004-10-02T20:38:40Z

New LiveJournal: urchin_caliban

I can now live in 2004. Add it, for up-to-date current news and top style.

ADD IT, THIS LIVEJOURNAL WILL DIE

zeroshriver @ 2009-09-25T15:58:00

2004-09-25T23:56:24Z

My birthday: October 2nd.

Why pamper life's complexities when the leather runs smooth on the passenger seat?

zeroshriver @ 2009-09-25T14:21:00

2004-09-25T22:20:50Z

Irish Struggle for Independence Mix CD

1. Irish Blood, English Heart (Morrissey)
2. Sunday, Bloody Sunday (U2)
3. This Is A Rebel Song (Sinead O'Connor with No Use For A Name
ad infinitum

Will be distributed upon completion.

zeroshriver @ 2009-09-25T14:20:00

2004-09-25T22:18:26Z

STOP HAVING SEX

YOU

RIGHT THERE

YES.

zeroshriver @ 2009-09-18T23:19:00

2004-09-19T06:20:26Z

Stolen from the Affected Provincial's Quarterly. Find yourself and wallow in your affection or guttersnipery.

zeroshriver @ 2009-09-16T17:39:00

2004-09-17T01:37:37Z

(my first essay for English Honours)

Tigger: Man or Myth

Having received the assignment informing me that I should choose a character from literature and write upon it, I fed the corresponding data into my magical machine. The results are most curious, as I have been found to resemble that paragon of boundless energy, Tigger, from A.A. Milne's marvelous and highly witty "Winnie the Pooh" series. Tigger, the Prometheus of the Hundred Acre Woods, that most excellent striped dandy.

Tigger has a powerful sense of identity and consciousness. He surpasses the opiate-grog and the faux-intellect of the Wood's natives, as do I, except one might substitute Woods for California. When Pooh asks, "'Who is it?'", upon Tigger's first sorte into the Hundred Acre Woods, Tigger answers, "'Me.'" He does not simply hand off his name as a defining characteristic, quite to the contrary, he presents himself as being himself, and so it is for myself. I am not Dylan, I am not that gallant cavalier of the IRA, nor that immigrant who came onto our shores so recently cast from the wartorn isle of Ireland, nay, I am all of these but more, I am a Me! What defines a Man, a Woman, an Adolescent? These statistics are death! Billions of numbers crunched! There is no little square to mark on a survey or a census for Soul! These tags are ephemeral and fleeting, but Me will last forever. Terms like Teenager and Honors Student and Lower Class and Artist are all dust in the howling hurricane of Temporality! I will lose all identity, I will lose all discernable traces of body, mind, and soul, I will commit my body to the fire and become ashes that will be blasted by the desert winds into the cracks of our crumbling earth, but nothing can destroy the Self! The Self remains mutable but undestroyable! As the Venerated Philosopher says, "Behold the pond surface. Does not the Moon fill it, the great Moon, and the pond is not burst?" But during our short lives, we have strengths that propel us to great heights, and Tigger is crammed full of that strength.

The orange enigma disdains the levity of Rabbit and Owl, instead effortlessly flying on the wings of enthusiasm and sheer elan. To quote the esteemed Mr. Pooh, who has (to much appreciation among the academic community at large) put certain thoughts on Tigger into verse, "'But whatever his weight in pounds/shillings, and ounces/He always seems bigger because/of his bounces.'" Mine (and Tigger's) physical composition is not a factor in determining our threat to the Square Community. Tigger uses his endless store of aerobatic energy to intimidate and impress the staid timberland settlement. I, somewhat similarly, have trained myself to use the power of my mind to instantly turn any target within my immediate vision into fine ash. I can also make fire erupt from my fists by feeding from the thermal energy inherent in my environment. I am especially adept at canoeing swiftly towards my enemies and firing thick arrows into their bodies from my longbow, rendering them vulnerable to my signature coup de grace, instant internal combustion, sometimes referred to by awed bystanders as "burnination." The greatest trait that both Tigger and I possess, however, is that of destiny.

Tigger and myself both share the same spiritual fate: We are both going to Hell. For does it not say, "You shall not lie with a male as with a woman. It is an abomination," and does it not also say, "Nor shall you mate with any animal, to defile yourself with it."? Hark ye as the horror unpeels like a banana of sin! Eeyore accounts to his shocked but curious cronies his odd and disquieting experience, saying, "'Somebody BOUNCED me. I was just thinking by the side of the river...when I received a loud BOUNCE.'" After receiving the bounce, Eeyore relates that, "'It's wet.' If you know what I mean." Yes, Eeyore, it is indeed wet. After a few more minutes the meeting degenerates into a petty masturbatory game of Poohsticks, but the point has been made: Tigger is a gaudy homosexual, and all homosexuals are bound for the flames, albeit those who engage in convenient interpretation of the Scriptures. I myself am not numbered among that cursed brand of sodomite, as the school policy clearly states that all homosexuals are dirty and wicked and against the rules. However, I have deigned from believing in the Christian God, and this alone is enough to hurtle me into the path of the Four Horsemen, where I am sure to become as chaff in the wind. And are not all sins equal in the eye of God? We are both tanning in the nearby fires of Hell, and our dip in the pool of brimstone is but a matter of time.

Tigger and I have souls that are intertwined by the hammer of identity, the sparks of energy, and the metal of sin. Together we forge an unstoppable force of similarity, which I call Voltron, Master of the Universe. For purposes of this essay, however, I bestow upon it the title of kinship.

zeroshriver @ 2009-09-13T21:20:00

2004-09-14T05:21:32Z

New mobile number, kids: (8 0 5) 5 8 7-4 4 3 1

Learn to love it, assemble the ways, now, today, tomorrow, and always.

Note: All contacts on my phone list will have a unique and personality-oriented ringtone to signify their inimitable and lovely presence on the cellular airwaves. Or until I run out of ringtones, upon which there will be minor acts of repetition that will go unseen due to my crafty and cunning demeanor.

zeroshriver @ 2009-08-30T16:46:00

2004-08-30T23:46:39Z

Thursday: Slept over at Kenta's with Donnie and Kenta, raved hardcore, jammed on our massive electronique ensemble of instruments and tweakers. We have: A mixer, drum machine, turntables, keyboard, two guitars (one acoustic, one electric), and a sweet synthesizer. I stayed up all night, my nerves frying on multiple instances of caffeine drinks.

Friday: Left Kenta's house and dined with Donnie at Macaroni Grill. We went outside for a while and enjoyed the fountain. Now, this fountain was on a fairly regular cycle. It would turn on, weaken, and then turn off completely. So as it shuts off I happen to lean down on the side of the fountain wall, and I hear this lady behind me say, "Excuse me, did you shut that fountain off?" I turn around and say, "Yes. Yes, I did." She asks me to turn it back on, and I refuse, making some comment about the water bill. She gets all up in my face and I dick with her some more until someone tells her that I'm just fucking with her. Fun times.

This is approximately half of our total musical setup.

Ravetacular.

Right here I'm tweaking the synth to make some totally sweet melodies.

Kenta working the turntables hardcore-style.

Donnie and Kenta jammin'.

This is Picture Post I out of II. Expect the next one whenever I get the rest of the batch.

Rien

2004-08-26T01:05:55Z

So apparently everyone in the world was invited to and went to the City Walk extravaganza tonight except me.

Eternal heartbreak.

EDIT: ETERNAL HEARTBREAK

Becoming Clouds

2004-08-21T04:10:34Z

Your words are plain
but your voice is in italics,
You bring your head up,
And the hair gets smeared against the glass.

This purple-white streak is like a bone bursting out of a violet,
This worse for worser trade is like a home for the truly violent.
Living inside a swap is hellish and the enemy is the merchant
The enemy is the merchant and he is near.
If the currency is in tears
Then inflation is shameful.
Value is dropping for valuable things
And someone's getting paid to shoot at the wings
And lock you in the wings
And make you make scenes
And make you carefully and deliberately rob yourself.
The vertigo is rising at ground level, the mana is drying out on the sand, the hair is matted on the glass and the pulse of everyone but yourself is coming up fast,
You are losing velocity.
They are gliding overhead, they are making shadows like the clouds over the plains where you used to walk,
But now they are all becoming clouds,
And you are the last grain of sand in this straitlaced asphalt square foot of grass broken gravel hilled in populated hermitage tall houses with closed doors and lit windows
hourglass
of a city.

zeroshriver @ 2009-08-19T14:12:00

2004-08-19T22:11:45Z

In this post we tell jokes!
_______

Two gentlemen olives are on a stroll in East Devonshire when they come upon a bar of goodly repute. Percy, the second olive, says to Harold, the first, "I do say, old chap, fancy a drink!?" Harold replies: "Absolutely, old puff." They enter the establishment and hang up their walking canes, savouring the odour of fine spirits served at proper temperature. After some idling small talk with some choice acquantences they migrate towards the vicinity of the bar, ordering some of the districts' finest whiskey. They proceed to imbibe the jolly liqueur, tossing back shot after shot of the delightful brew. However, at one juncture in this fine evening an unfortunate incident occurs! Harold, having had a tad too much than might be advisable for an olive of his age, keels right jolly well over onto the, I am saddened to say, regretably ill-scrubbed floor, where his head meets with a resounding bump! Percy leans over the bar stool, and inquires with great concern, "My word, Harold, are you quite alright?" Harold looks up with a wry grin on his face, and replies ruefully, "Olive!"

At this point a lusty wench is jostled by a passing coxscomb and the result of this disorderly jostling of which no decent young man should be a part of is that the carrying tray of which she is mistress of is shaken at an angle, giving the unfortunate gin and tonic upon it no other choice but to spill all over poor Sir Harold! What a calamity! Sir Harold starts up in a flash, and his face is quite rubicose from his intoxication and no doubt his well-concealed but assuredly vicious temper. "You slagging cunny!" he shouts, grabbing at her skirt. The barmaid shrieks and prances off, as he chases her to the door, stopping to grab his trusty walking cane. As she darts out, she slips upon a murky puddle of which the fair city of Devonshire is known to harbour, landing with a kersplash and perhaps a splooshydingsploosh! Harold, his forehead throbbing with a single vicious vein, rains down blows upon her like a veritable Mr. Hyde! Blood fountains from her exposed temple, the white of her skull exposed to make her head a mirror to the cruel moon that shines above with the fierce lunar light that makes madmen of us all.

God save the Queen.

THOM ATE MEAT!!!

2004-08-01T01:17:17Z

THOM ATE MEAT TODAY AT 6:08 PM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Taylor and I went to Quizno's and picked out a deliciously tasty Classic Club with Bacon, no tomatoes. Then we drove down to Simi and entered Thom's house where he was innocently, peacefully enjoying a simple flash game on his computer. We then slyly asked him if he wanted a sandwich, and he said, "Sure!", a cherubic and unsuspecting smile breaking out on his honest Austrian face. We handed it to him and he chomped into it, but after four bites he started shrieking, "I've been tricked! I've been tricked! AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!", the stench of roasted bacon igniting his nostrils with forbidden passions and unbearably sinful thoughts, and he started melting. (maybe not melting but you know) His vegetarian vow had been broken!!! Now he has to start all over. He is now weeping for his lost and mispent youth.

zeroshriver @ 2009-07-27T16:01:00

2004-07-27T23:23:32Z

Never use a word you've ever used before
Settle the score with the door
(it's all that's left)
You know they win when they get the last word
So to save your pride
Jab and deride
Use your mouth to stab
Spit out nails and crucify their jaw to the floor
Get in shit before you get tossed out
The more tears you make the more you save
Pretend that we have a community pool of sadness
And we'll keep this all in the family
We'll circulate it and keep it flowing
Flowing flood of hate
It's all right
This is safe hate
It keeps us fresh and roasted
So use your tongue and your teeth
Slit them beneath
The belly
Where they can bleed out their spite into the long hot night
Out onto the sidewalk where you imagine passersby walk by and look at yr house and think, "Thank God I don't live there with those screaming maniacs"
So use your fingertips to make insulting indentations and your tone to modulate incredible condescensions
If you make them bleed and stick them like a pig you're halfway to the hate
All you need is the middle of an enraging phone call and the order to wait
And hold
And put them on hold
And fill the telephone wires for miles around with hate
Kill the crows as electricity fuses with the brimming vitriol Their breath on the receiver crawling hot and in flames into the holes like demonic worms,
Oh, it's so pretty
Watch the phone start to melt in your hand
And then slam it down
Before their rage streaks in a bolt through the hole in your brain
This is all there is
To hate
To hate
To hate
This is to hate
This is to waiting for their hate to build and rise
This is to killing crows.

SEX FACT AND MYTH

2004-07-20T09:23:33Z

SEX FACT AND MYTH

Vaginas are filled with lava.
You do not necessarily have to throw villagers into your vagina to appease it.
The vagina has a coconut orchard. (still not proved, but suspected)

The penis ejaculates bullets.
This is why no one ever survives sex.
The bullets impregnate the woman, and as she dies the metal robot explodes from her chest cavity, feeding on her blood.
This is why you must masturbate with a sword to toughen up the muscles.
Then you will be able to crunch down during sex and blow that penis to kingdom cum and harvest the steel filings for your factory.

Mango vs. OS

2004-07-20T07:43:26Z

Asparagus, grapefruit, mangos.

When the OS kicks back online we have ninety seconds before the mainline virus elimination systems kick on, until then we have basic security hardware activations to deal with. We go out on supply runs during the fifteen minute downtime sequence that occurs every two days, at 12 AM on the 2nd such day. I hate grapefruit and asparagus, mangos are our lifeblood. We have all three growing in the hydroponic orchards and fields nearby: Biolot 37. 86% of it was destroyed in the Storms, but the hardy grow-bots keep the goods pumping up through the soil. The multibike skims across the ground, thrust-jets propelling us through the vast multilayered ghetto of Hard Drive H. The OS classified everything in technical terms, and now our only safety is within the five story structure called the Node. It's the only area of Hard Drive H not patrolled by lethality personified: the gunbots. The parameters of the OS saves us for once, as it once used all of the Nodes for network communication/relay. Now satellites orbit, we assume. Wonderful, a world of wireless, waved, infrared, invisible control. It isn't the standard computer-is-given-international-control-of-industry, etc, and then goes haywire, killing us through some malfunction or AI desire to help humanity by controlling it. The OS was masterminded by the Corporation, and given free reign over the troublesome part of the world. It has strict borders within which it must stay. North/South America, basically that entire land mass were blasted to halfway past oblivion, as was Africa, and the survivors try to fulfill their name. And the Corporation grows fat from the fruits of their subjugation. Presumably. But the only fruits that matter out here are mangos. The aspargus were only really needed when we had to trip some life sensors from afar, and our pungent urine did its work. Grapefruit are sour pink balls of evil. But mangos, they I love.

Flashing to our current situation, beams of hot hot heat pulsate overhead as we multithrust into the orchard, and they ricochet from pillar to pillar of the chemical tube clusters, fizzling off into the sky which is an incredibly diverse gradience of greys. I never imagined that there could be such a rainbow of gray hues, such complexities, but the evolution of radiation and pollution proceeds unchecked, and there it is. The grey caved in blown up slumping skeletal structures all fade into the sky, and the ground is a more well-worn version of the sky. And it doesn't rain acid. The lasers are silent. The gunbots have entered. We stalk among the trees, our ion shell rifles cocked. And then I stop for the sight that never ceases to give me some vestige of warmth. The mango trees, with their delicious yellow crop, the sharpest contrast I might ever see. Our faces are pale with the lack of sun and the floating ash. The mangos are like lamps. My team loads as many as we can onto the cargo dump in the back of the multibike, and then we start to pile back on. Maximum occupancy five. I turn and grab a ripe mango from the closest tree, the leaves coated with chemical rain, and they look rusty. A metal tree. Wonderful. I bite into the mango, the nectar spurting into my gullet, the sweetness giving me thrills and goosebumps after weeks among smoking craters and people coughing up sticky dust mixed with some random lung fluid concoction. This is a taste of Heaven. And then my veins start to tingle, because I can feel through my feet the vibrations traveling through the cracks of the fertile, soft soil. The others are still on the multibike, gesturing for me to come. I stand still and I just wait until their gradually growing cries become screams. And then a raindrop falls on my shoulder, hitting hard and trickling down my back. It must have somehow become a bullet on the way. The clattering death-spin of the gunbot's Turbulence 2600 automatic breathes a gentle wind among the mangos. And I turn, the rapidly converging locus of shots blowing away chunks of extraneous flesh as I spray a slew of rounds into its metal hide. Fire into the joints. My shots ricochet around inside the gunbot's armour, and smoke bursts out in thick noxious streams, until the gunbot collapses, and two more advance, firing after the retreating multibike, sending fountains of mango guts and juice into the air as they hit the cargo dump. Hyperkinetically-stimulated fountains of mango, painting weird erratic rainbows in the sky. I fall as their next shot tears through my right kneecap, and hit the earth, my blood merging with the mellow amber nectar.

zeroshriver @ 2009-07-19T23:28:00

2004-07-20T06:35:50Z

New cell which I shall have for five weeks: 805-7 3 1-7326

Harder better faster stronger!

zeroshriver @ 2009-07-18T13:44:00

2004-07-19T20:46:01Z

Featherbreaker,
Iridescent fluid spilled on the asphalt, particles crunching under the tires down traffiqueway 990, time setter pathway culler choice nuller divergence binder, di i o di i o, di i o,
Fender fighting the barrier, the windshield washing back over the dashboard, the glass feathering your head,
Glass dots insinuated into the marrow,
An x-ray romance, digging out the pieces, I'm your technician,
Featherbreaker
Shake down the wind, duck the short wave transmissions, the particles will outline your fractures fragmentations dislocations shattered bedrock of bone and blood, scream into the wind tunnel, fight sonic distortion, fight the atmospheric testing grounds until they've decompressed every vital organ in your body, but never give yourself back to the soil (forbid future generations of The Swine use your organic breakdown for survival)
Wreckage of feathers and broken weather beyond measure, this will be the last planned accident in a long repertoire of auto-cannibalistic acts. My palms are dirty with scores of disconnected brake wires.

zeroshriver @ 2009-07-16T10:58:00

2004-07-16T17:58:08Z

You have a problem balancin'!

zeroshriver @ 2009-07-16T08:58:00

2004-07-16T16:00:27Z

</td></tr>

IMDB's Top 100 Best Movies of All Time
generate this HTML for your own page at ObeytheFist.com

Rank	Movie	Didn't See It/ Started It/ Finished It/ Hated It!
1	Godfather, The (1972)	Hated It!
2	Shawshank Redemption, The (1994)	Started It
3	Godfather: Part II, The (1974)
4	Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, The (2003)	Finished It
5	Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, The (2002)	Finished It
6	Casablanca (1942)
7	Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, The (2001)	Finished It
8	Schindler's List (1993)
9	Shichinin no samurai (1954)	Finished It
10	Star Wars (1977)	Finished It
11	Citizen Kane (1941)	Finished It
12	One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975)
13	Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)	Finished It
14	Rear Window (1954)
15	Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back (1980)	Finished It
16	Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)	Finished It
17	Memento (2000)	Finished It
18	Usual Suspects, The (1995)
19	Pulp Fiction (1994)	Finished It
20	North by Northwest (1959)
21	12 Angry Men (1957)
22	Fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain, Le (2001)
23	Psycho (1960)
24	Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
25	Buono, il brutto, il cattivo, Il (1966)
26	Silence of the Lambs, The (1991)	Finished It
27	It's a Wonderful Life (1946)
28	Goodfellas (1990)
29	American Beauty (1999)	Finished It
30	Vertigo (1958)
31	Sunset Blvd. (1950)
32	Matrix, The (1999)	Finished It
33	Apocalypse Now (1979)
34	Pianist, The (2002)	Finished It
35	To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)	Finished It
36	C'era una volta il West (1968)
37	Some Like It Hot (1959)
38	Third Man, The (1949)	Finished It
39	Taxi Driver (1976)
40	Paths of Glory (1957)
41	Sen to Chihiro no kamikakushi (2001)	Finished It
42	Fight Club (1999)	Finished It
43	Boot, Das (1981)	Finished It
44	Double Indemnity (1944)
45	L.A. Confidential (1997)	Finished It
46	Chinatown (1974)
47	Singin' in the Rain (1952)
48	Maltese Falcon, The (1941)	Finished It
49	M (1931)
50	Requiem for a Dream (2000)	Finished It
51	Bridge on the River Kwai, The (1957)
52	All About Eve (1950)
53	Se7en (1995)	Finished It
54	Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)	Finished It
55	Saving Private Ryan (1998)
56	Cidade de Deus (2002)
57	Raging Bull (1980)
58	Rashômon (1950)
59	Wizard of Oz, The (1939)	Finished It
60	Sting, The (1973)
61	Alien (1979)
62	American History X (1998)
63	Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939)
64	Léon (1994)	Finished It
65	Vita è bella, La (1997)	Finished It
66	Touch of Evil (1958)
67	Manchurian Candidate, The (1962)
68	2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
69	Treasure of the Sierra Madre, The (1948)
70	Great Escape, The (1963)
71	Wo hu cang long (2000)
72	Reservoir Dogs (1992)	Finished It
73	Clockwork Orange, A (1971)	Started It
74	Amadeus (1984)	Started It
75	Modern Times (1936)
76	Ran (1985)
77	Annie Hall (1977)
78	Jaws (1975)
79	On the Waterfront (1954)
80	Braveheart (1995)
81	High Noon (1952)
82	Apartment, The (1960)
83	Fargo (1996)
84	Sixth Sense, The (1999)	Finished It
85	Aliens (1986)
86	Shining, The (1980)	Finished It
87	Strangers on a Train (1951)
88	Blade Runner (1982)	Finished It
89	Metropolis (1927)
90	Duck Soup (1933)
91	Finding Nemo (2003)	Finished It
92	Donnie Darko (2001)	Finished It
93	General, The (1927)
94	City Lights (1931)
95	Princess Bride, The (1987)	Finished It
96	Toy Story 2 (1999)	Finished It
97	Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (2003)	Finished It
98	Great Dictator, The (1940)
99	Sjunde inseglet, Det (1957)
100	Lola rennt (1998)	Finished It

Which movies have you seen?

Saw Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon + Braveheart, forgot to mark it.

zeroshriver @ 2009-07-08T11:37:00

2004-07-08T18:38:00Z

My Best Friend is 0paranoid0

Our 7 common interests are: beauty, computers, dreams, internet, kittens, movies, music

Who is your best friend?

Created by macoto

zeroshriver @ 2009-07-05T01:22:00

2004-07-05T08:23:12Z

PREVIEW OF THE NEW HARRY POTTER BOOK FOUND ON KAZAA

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Chapter I

Harry Potter woke up from his long sleep, the alarm clock's wail piercing his ears, but paling in comparison to the searing pain that lanced through his forehead. His scar beat a cruel tempo as he fumbled for the snooze control. A thin trail of crack dusted his nostrils as the morning glow faded and began to give way to day. Hermoine's juices coated him and began to crack as he moved slowly towards the lavatory, stumbling to his knees as the headache kicked up a notch. Harry sicked into the toilet, his septum smarting from the acid recoil. He wiped the creeping slime from his mouth as he peered into the cracked mirror, and winced at the burst blood vessel in his left eye. His goddamn owls still hadn't gotten back yet, and he was getting the Fear. His wand, encrusted with semen, blood, and scraped uteral linings, was a silent reminder that he needed to get back to Hogwarts. But how? The train had been blown apart by the Ringwraiths, er, Dementors. They had entered the train filled with the first batch of Hogwarts hopefuls, and planted four tactically placed units of C4 stolen from a Muggle convoy to Iraq.

Sirius' dying words flashed through his head: Harry, I will always be with you. Always. Stinging tears were brought to Harry's eyes. He smashed his fist into the wall, and the resulting bruise calmed him down a bit. Apathy had taken its toll. Harry was trapped between the fear of being caught by the Death Eaters and tortured to death, and the need to get to Hogwarts and rescue Hermione, Ron, and Dumbledore. Depression began to crush him, like the soulsucking kiss of a Dementor. He was one step closer to the edge, and he was about to break.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he remembered the valued but cryptics words of Hagrid so long ago, as they were leaving for Diagon Alley: "Have a sausage, they're not bad cold-an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' your cake, neither." He realized what he must do. Harry grabbed his wand and the keys to his Red Shark, a sweet top-down convertible hidden from his wicked uncle. He snuck downstairs, tripping on a plot hole, and then ran out to his rented garage downtown. With his wizardly eyes he saw the ghostly wreckage of the Knight Bus hanging from a tree, the Dementor's telltale icicles hanging from the blasted frame. Harry leapt into the Red Shark. Next stop-Hogwarts. He knew a backroute to Hogwarts, it would only take a little while longer. Harry flipped on his shades, and lit his Djarum Super. The smoke was snatched by the wind as the Red Shark roared off to the moors, past gas stations, past fuming uncles, past Muggle high schools, past everything. But first, he had to pick up an old friend-Draco Malfoy.

Chapter II

Draco and I were twenty miles south of Camden when the drugs took hold. They had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of uppers, downers, laughers, screamers...Also, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls. Draco began ranting about invisible flying manta rays, saying, Harry, Harry, I'm being attacked by invisible flying manta rays, and I coolly responded, how do you know they're manta rays if they're invisible, and for all you know, they could be flopping on you, not flying. Then he started bleeding, but it was just him cutting himself with his wand. The drying cum on his lips was beginning to annoy me, you know, the whole OCD bit, so I rubbed it around a little. I let him mess around with the stash, and he starts going crazy all over the goddamn dashboard, I pop some amyl nitrates in his face, his heart begins to attempt a less-than-50-miles per hour rate. I'm seeing giant flies hungry for my sweat, but that's not as bad as manta rays. Those animals just wrap you up and hug you in an electric embrace of death. What are flies going to do? Land on me to death? I hate this place. The sand dances with falling shards of sun, and the sky darkens. Wait, that's the blood seeping from my scar. Lately it's been more than hurting, it's been squirming, burning, bleeding.

[I'll put more up later if I can track down the user who put up the files. He had to sign off.]

zeroshriver @ 2007-08-30T12:04:00

2004-06-30T19:10:01Z

Today I felt like consecrating my life to some unimaginably selfless act, so to better understand the plight of the crippled, I am encasing my right arm and hand in a cast. My target goal is two weeks. Cabaret just got an extra cast member LOL JK omg so anyways yeah just so you know.

zeroshriver @ 2007-08-29T14:04:00

2004-06-29T21:07:32Z

ATTENTION MOORPARK KIDS + EVERYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD

Go see Cabaret at the Camarillo Airport Community Theatre at 8 PM this Saturday. Costs 13-15 bucks to get in. Thom and I are going to be hawt gigalos and so much more, so don't miss it or you will DIEE.

zeroshriver @ 2007-08-28T13:55:00

2004-06-28T20:56:43Z

UPDATE

My cell phone is gone. You can reach me at 5 7 9 - 9 3 3 6 for a while. Later I'll be at 5 2 7 - 7 2 4 8.

zeroshriver @ 2007-08-25T17:26:00

2004-06-26T00:26:09Z