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Fri - 06/21/02
 
 
An 8-year-old's Explanation of God
One of God's main jobs is making people. He makes them to replace the ones that die, so there will be enough people to take care of things on earth. He doesn't make grown-ups, just babies. I think because they are smaller and easier to make. That way He doesn't have to take up His valuable time teaching them to talk and walk. He can just leave that to mothers and fathers. God's second most important job is listening to prayers. An awful lot of this goes on, since some people, like preachers and things, pray at times beside bedtime. God doesn't have time to listen to the radio or TV because of this. Because He hears everything, there must be a terrible lot of noise in His ears, unless He has thought of a way to turn it off. God sees everything and hears everything and is everywhere, which keeps Him pretty busy. So you shouldn't go wasting His time by going over your Mom and Dad's head asking for something they said you couldn't have. Atheists are people who don't believe in God. I don't think there are any in Chula Vista. At least there aren't any who come to our church. Jesus is God's Son. He used to do all the hard work like walking on water and performing miracles and trying to teach the people who didn't want to learn about God. They finally got tired of Him preaching to them and they crucified Him. But He was good and kind, like His Father, and He told His Father that they didn't know what they were doing and to forgive them and God said OK. His Dad (God) appreciated everything that He had done and all His hard work on earth so He told Him He didn't have to go out on the road anymore. He could stay in heaven. So He did. And now He helps His Dad out by listening to prayers and seeing which things are important for God to take care of and which ones He can take care of Himself without having to bother God. Like a secretary, only more important. You can pray anytime you want and they are sure to help you because they got it worked out so one of them is on duty all the time. You should always go to church on Sunday because it makes God happy, and if there's anybody you want to make happy, it's God. Don't skip church to do something you think will be more fun like going to the beach. This is wrong. And besides the sun doesn't come out at the beach until noon anyway.

Hooray for a child's ability to mindlessly regurgitate dogma!

 
     
 
Tue - 06/18/02
 
  I helped murder families in Columbia. It was just innocent fun! Do you think god likes to dance? What does a rainbow feel like? Will I stop asking these inanely philosophic questions? Stay tuned!  
     
 
Mon - 06/10/02
 
  Holy Flaming Fuckballs Batman! Fragmented ideas and faded memories are swirling around my consciousness tonight. A friend of mine has been talking to me about Christianity the last couple of days. So I'll probably be talking about that. Hi, my name is cyan0sis and I'm an atheist. I've felt this way for as long as I can remember. It's not because of ignorance of religion as I've looked into most of them; it seems to come down to belief. Though I call myself an atheist I cannot completely rule out the possibility that god exists for I do not know everything. I just believe that it's more likely that humanity as a story telling species have invented a system which will provide some hope for a better existence beyond this one. We are a species fueled by dreams, living for a better future or in the glory of our past. Hollywood, television, books, christianity, drugs, whatever escapism you want to name, are all based upon the same need for some hope in our lives. Because most people don't have the means, ability or strength to bring their dreams to life they instead choose to live inside the dreams society manufactures for them. This is by far not all I have to say on this matter but i tend to dwell of things like these, so I'll shut up now..  
     
 
Wed - 04/17/02
 
   
     
 
Mon - 04/01/02
 
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Mon - 03/25/02
 
  Only 11 more days until Rubicon 4! Are you coming? Well if you are you might be able to meet everyone's favourite role model, me! If you read this and can spot cyan0sis (me) at rubicon then I'll give you a special prize! So come to Rubicon and spot cyan0sis!!  
     
 
Tue - 03/19/02
 
  So I've gone and done it again! I've remade my website and it seems everytime i do it gets uglier and uglier. Devoid of any artistic skill I'm forced to improvise. The gimp provided my logo and the rest is just tables. How very exciting. Of course the old saying, 'form follows function' could certainly be applied here. This site serves hardly any function and so it has hardly any form. Granted there are those that have their own websites and consider them functionless and yet they manage to provide quite a lot in the way of content but to them I say, 'pthbphtbpthbpthbpthbpthbpthbpthbpthbpth!!!'  
     
 
Fri - 03/15/02
 
  This page has had 146 page views this month, but for the sake of my already overgrown ego I'll just assume they're from me. That being said I'm once again at a loss for content. What with the day-to-day excitement of my life I should be bursting with amusing anecdotes designed to tittilate my readers (which I'm still sure is just myself). The question that is really gnawing at me is why try to update when you've nothing to say? I can only answer that with another question, when do you have anything to say? Huh? Mr. Apathy?! Shut up! I cry, quickly plugging my ears and rocking back and forth. I'm a good critic. If you give me something to read I can tell you what's wrong with it but, when it comes to originality all I can only come up with are mindless ramblings which only I found interesting. Right! That's it, time for a topic! How about.. lucid dreaming. Yes, why not?

Lucid dreaming, for those who don't know, is essentially when you take control of your dreams. You realize you're dreaming but stay asleep and you begin to will the dream to take the form you choose. I haven't had any dreams that I can remember for quite awhile but I can still remember my first lucid dream. I was 9 years old and, like many children my age, I suffered from nightmares. In my dream I had been captured by a couple of witches who had taken me to their home which was like a large underground burrow. Naturally one of them was stirring a large, black cauldron while the other told me of my fate. Hunch-backed and terribly ugly she glared at me and said, 'Well little boy do you know who we are?'

'You're witches.' I replied meekly.

She grinned exposing her yellow teeth sharpened on the bones of little children. 'Yes, and do you know what we're going to do with you?'

I glanced over at the other one as she looked up from the cauldron and peered at me with here good eye. 'Um.. no..', I whispered.

'Well', she said,'we're going to eat your flesh, grind your bones into dust but first, we'll boil your head!'

At this point I'd heard enough. Summoning all the courage and will-power a dreaming nine yearold can I shouted, 'NO! I'LL BOIL YOURS!!', and with that I karate-chopped her head clean off and into the cauldron. I ran to the second witch and did the same. Looking around I realized that I had won and so I awoke.

After that I had much success in controlling my dreams and my favourite thing to do was to fly. Sometimes I could just take off while others I had to work at it. I would start with floating and then would attempt to swim through the air. Sometimes I wonder whatever happened to the smilling little child I once was, who thought anything was possible. He's become cynical and jaded but such is life. Who needs therapy when you have a webpage?

 
     
 
Wed - 03/13/02
 
  Recently I came across some lines from Moby Dick, by Heramn Melville, which I found particularly remarkable regarding the controversial election of George W. Bush and the events of September 11th. Seeing as I don't have much of a life I took it upon myself to discover the real source of these words. Here is what I found in the book.

But wherefore it was that after having repeatedly smelt the sea as a merchant sailor, I should now take it into my head to go on a whaling voyage; this the invisible police officer of the Fates, who has the constant surveillance of me, and secretly dogs me, and influences me in some unaccountable way—he can better answer than any one else. And, doubtless, my going on this whaling voyage, formed part of the grand programme of Providence that was drawn up a long time ago. It came in as a sort of brief interlude and solo between more extensive performances. I take it that this part of the bill must have run something like this:

"Grand Contested Election for the Presidency of the United States"

"WHALING VOYAGE BY ONE ISHMAEL"

"BLOODY BATTLE IN AFGHANISTAN"

Though I cannot tell why it was exactly that those stage managers, the Fates, put me down for this shabby part of a whaling voyage...

Now while looking up the reference to, 'Bloody Battle in Afghanistan', I encountered this page. It seemed to me that they were just trying too hard to find some sort of prophetic connection between those lines and the events surrounding September 11th. I was sure that those references had to have been related to something before 1851, the publication date of Moby Dick.

So I began searching through the history of Afghanistan. I found what I was looking for here. From 1839-1842 the first Anglo-Afghan war was waging in Afghanistan. The British had setup a puppet king, Shah Shuja, throughout this time Afghans continued to fight against the British. In January 1842, out of 16,500 soldiers (and 12,000 dependents) only one survivor, of mixed British-Indian garrison, reaches the fort in Jalalabad, on a stumbling pony. This was a prime example of a 'bloody battle' and it fit in the timeline of the writing of Moby Dick.

I then began researching former presidents of the United States. I was looking for something that could be considered a 'grand contested election' occuring before 1851 and, to back up my previous point, before 1842. Here is where my research reached somewhat of a dead end. So I turned my attentions to Melville's biography. Soon after I epiphanied explosively all over my desk and keyboard. After cleaning up the mess I double checked what I had read. Melville had begun his own sailing career in January of 1841 and since I suspected that Melville's protagonist, Ishmael, was largely auto-biographical I checked my list of presidents again. In 1840, William Henry Harrison was nominated for the presidency of the United States by the Whigs against Martin Van Buren. Harrison won the popular vote by less than 150,000, but swept the Electoral Colleges 234 to 60. With this small majority and its timing in Melville's life I am fairly confident in stating that this is the 'grand contested election' referred to just before Ishmael's whaling voyage.

Now I realize that this might not be very interesting to your average person. Perhaps I've spent this time proving something that any american lit student would see as common knowledge. The purpose was not to try to break some ground in the field of literature but merely to sate my own curiosity and I am quite pleased with the results. Hooray. Next update I promise to return to my apathetic and self-deprecating ways.

 
     
 
Sat - 03/02/02
 
  I wasn't planning on updating today but I came across an article that I found very interesting. So for your enjoyment here is the article.  
     
 
Fri - 03/01/02
 
  Well look who commented on my update! Fascinating indeed. So my children, how have you been? Oh, well that's too bad. I've been fucking fantastic! My life is so rich with sarcasm and scathing verbiage I can hardly see straight. Once again my parents are at each other's throats. I don't know what happens to relationships but at some point they always seem to stop being about caring for each other and start being about who can win. The fighting becomes the relationship and so all communication is a series of offensive and defensive strikes. Jesus I'm living with the fucking Cold War. Except Kennedy never made any intimations about the sexual prowess of Kruschev. Atleast none that I heard. Enough about my parents I'm sick to death of them. Hrm.. I'm having trouble coming up with something else to talk about.. perhaps a new paragraph will help.

That's better. For any of you who ever read Trendymisanthropy.com you might remember an update I made entitled, 'A Turn For the Worse'. In which I recounted the true story of a guilt ridden young man who felt the need to burden me with the tale of how he demolished his family's car, put his mother in the hospital and cost his family thousands in damages to public property all because of a wrong turn in the car. Well I have an update to his misadventures. A few weeks ago I received my credit card bill, which I usually just throw out, when I noticed something on the back. Every envelope I get from them usually has one of those Child Find reports printed on the back with the name and picture of a child who's gone missing. To my surprise there was the face of 'A Turn For the Worse' kid smiling up at me from the back of this month's envelope. So I decided to post it seeing as it could only do more good than harm. His name is David Vickers, I went to High School with him and though he wasn't really a friend I knew who he was. It was certainly surprising to find that he's missing but I suppose these tragedies they show on the nightly news have to happen to someone. So in summation, yes Virginia there is a real world out there and it will have you turning tricks for one more puff of that crack pipe.

Have you seen me?!
 
     
 
Mon - 02/25/02
 
  When I was eight years old I could recount the entire history of the Roman Empire. I wrote poetry and loved Shakespeare. I'm now almost 20 and could feasibly hide my own Easter Eggs. The question I should be asking if I could remember it is, "Why did I peak at such a young age?", or, "What the hell happened to me?!" Now one might theorize that the sudden increase in hormone levels during puberty caused some sort of synaptic decay but that's just bullshit. Perhaps over the years countless hours of television have, as my mother so often warned, rotted my mind. Well on the surface the concept of filling one's mind with years worth of useless drivel from television and video games seems like a viable answer if not for the fact that I've continued to educate myself in the literary arts, mathematics and history. There is one possibility almost too insane to look at but perhaps the over-indulgence of my parents caused me to have an over-inflated idea of myself at that early age. Maybe I've always been an educated moron and it just took me awhile to figure it out. I guess this is supposed to make me feel better. It doesn't.  
     
 
Sat - 02/23/02
 
  What an ugly piece of shit this site is. I say we torch it! YEAH!! BURN IT DOWN!!! *sigh* I'm afraid reports of my demise haven't been exaggerated but I have made the ultimate journey across heaven, hell and the little spoken of dimension known as candyland *shudder*. I suppose all the metaphysical details of my journey might be of interest to any potential readers and for that fact alone will be excluded entirely. This is the anti-website. I had 0 page views yesterday and only 1 this month. Isn't this a clever way to twist a dismal failure into a personal success? I thought so. I started to write a story. I think it's very trite and shitty so I'll post it. It's more of a paragraph really. So if anyone has any suggestions on what should happen or why it sucks please send me a message. Click here to mail me! So without further adieu..

The ghostly dawn awakens the land causing all things to quiver and shake in expectation of the morning sun. It blasts its photons across the landscape causing them to bounce back at specific frequencies which humans view as colour. Some of these photons happen to bounce through the window of a quaint little farmhouse into the observant eyes of Mr. Hammersmith as he gazed out at the fields surrounding his property. Mr. Hammersmith was a simple man with concrete ideas of how the world worked. Each morning he awoke at 5am, came downstairs, and looked out the window while sipping his coffee before he began his daily chores. He glanced back at the empty chairs surrounding his table. He didn't like to look at them. He could remember when the house was full of the noises of his family. His sons arguing over the bathroom. His wife singing one song or another while getting breakfast ready. They seemed like echoes in his mind contrasting with the stale silence of the house. His boys were men now with families of their own. His wife passed 3 years ago after a long bout with cancer. Everytime Mr. Hammersmith looked at those empty chairs he felt so demoralised and alone. So he turned back towards the window and watched as the wind flowed across the grassy field causing it to sway as if dancing. He used to question why god would see fit to tear apart everything that he loved but now he just quietly sits and watches the gentle swaying of the fields. He'd attained a kind of remorseful peace that only comes with age. He looked down to his now empty coffee cup permanently stained from years of use.

Now wasn't that special? I know it gave me a warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of my stomach which soon travelled up my throat and landed all over my keyboard. TA! (__|__)

 
     
 
Mon - 01/21/02
 
  All future updates have been cancelled due to the unfortunate demise of the webmaster. Our hope is that his passing can serve as a lesson for us all. Never attempt to orally pleasure yourself. He was found naked on his bed with his knees by his ears and his balls resting on his upper lip. Donations may be made to MMASFK, Mad Mothers Against Sexually Frustrated Kids.  
     
 
Sun - 12/23/01
 
  Well first off while I was browsing through the internet I came accross this strange japanese news site. I searched for 'raping monkeys' and was greeted by this odd letter/editorial thing. Meh. Here.

Now that that's out of the way we can attend to the business at hand. Which is ... being the eyes, ears and conscience of the creator of the universe. I of course stole that line as I do everything :D Here's another. You massage the univere's spine the way you twist and twirl through time leaving shadows on the sun. Huzzah. I am a cesspool of memetic trifles. Swilling and festering into some foul brew. But atleast I know I am. My heart is a cold, black lump strangled long ago by my nhilistic pessimism. Oh god. Sometimes I'm so fucking melodramatic I want to vomit. "The time has come," the Walrus said. "To talk of other things. Of shoes, and ships, and sealing wax, and cabbages and kings..." I stole that one too, shhh! *cough* ... *sigh* Atleast it doesn't burn when I pee.

 
     
 
Sat - 12/22/01
 
  Recently I've been questioning why I bother to keep this site at all. I constantly revamp it and am never satisfied. All it's ever privy to are pointless ramblings when I feel obliged to update. It's not like I ever do anything worth recording. But I've realized that I've become accustomed to having someplace to vent my frustrations or atleast document my existence in some minimal way. And so I continue to post mindless updates like this one. :D
DUNNAH SHYTE IN MAH MY'TH!!
 
     
 
Tue - 12/18/01
 
  I've created a chinsy little photo album of all the pictures I took while at the abandoned Ajax Psychiatric Centre. Most of the pictures that were taken outside are rather dark but if you look closely you should be able to make out the buildings. The inside pictures are much brighter and clearer. So without further ado. Click here for the album.  
     
 
Mon - 12/17/01
 
  So after a long absence from the 'scene' I made my way down to Barrie. I was staying over at Flame0ut and Asher's pad. During this four day excursion I would find myself doubled over, splashing around in a drain pipe as the rain above pushed all the filth of Barrie's streets into my shoes and onto my the legs of my pants. Ahead of me Flame0ut and Krall adeptly stepped from side to side as though they were born to do this.

Another by-product of our late night meanderings was this call I made to a random 1-800 number. In this tale of ordinary madness a lonely chinese convenience store owner thinks he's found his match; will the lovely long distance operator buy what he's selling? Click here to find out.

I will update with more from my recent misadventures.