Anarchist Road

Spaghetti-O!

The Dean's car exploded. Wow.

In other news, I'm getting the hell out of here for a few days, and I need to state a few public messages:

Dot, you rock. We need to hang more when I get back, 'cuz last night was rockin'. Email me if you want me to say anything specific, or I can just give the general sentiments. I know what to say.

Byron, I thank you for the bottom of my unapologetic rich boy hating heart. You're awesome. Seriously, thanks for this. I'll pay you back as soon as I can manage.

Violet, the rest of the project is sitting in your inbox. Freddy, you rock more hardcore than anyone, buddy. Uncle Sasha, thank you for the letter. Smutty Molls, keep truckin', your drummer'll be back in just a few days.

Wish me luck in England, fuckers. I'm outta here.

I woke up in Violet's room. I must have gone way overboard. It happens once in a while, but this is just fucking ridiculous; I've never woken up in a more hostile environment; and I ain't just talking about her attitude.

It's fucked up, because somehow staying there makes me feel... I don't know... profaned. Fuck. Where's Gytha when I need her? Fucking England is where. I'm all sorts of messed up, I haven't gone a binge that bad since fucking... I dunno, two years ago, almost. I wish I could see her.

Fuck this shit. I'm outta here.

To: christoutofgytha@exiled.net
From: anarcothingone@exiled.net
Subject: Life.

Hi. I am beat. Beat beat beat. This job is so fucking taxing, babe. I mean, school and then work and just... nothing to come home to. I'm planning something pretty big. I'll send a picture when it's done, if I can get one at the moment it happens. It might be tricky, I don't know.

I miss you, Gytha. I've gotten paired up with Violet again in Sociology, and it's killing my brain; I can't get past it. This project is going to leave me braindead. I may just drink myself stupid and go do the project that way, just to piss her off. I'll probably be just functional enough to get us a passing grade, anyway; the class is fucking easy.

Everything still okay over there since the last time we emailed? School? Your dad? I know I'm being pushy I'm just desperate to know you're all right.

I can barely type, I don't know what to say. I need to go anyway, I have to work on this paper and go to bed or I'll be too tired after class tomorrow for work.

I love you, Agatha.

Mikhail Bakunin.

Locked to Dot and Freddy.

Crash and burn.

She's gone. He took her on the plane and she was just... gone. I'm empty all over again. I don't know if it's all the weirdness here that's at fault; it really doesn't matter to me. I crashed.

Now they burn. Simple deal.

Locked to Gytha, Freddy, Dot, Byron, Shelley, and Hoffmann.

So I was going to paint the school red yesterday. Literally. But I was asked to chill for a while until we have a better grasp and some of the people are safer, so there you go. Never say I didn't do nothin' for you, people. Heh.

I'm ... torn. But that's for another day.

Gytha, Freddy: I'll let you know when it's going down, of course.

Byron, Shelley, Hoff: I'll tell you guys about it, see if you're down with it.

If we pull it off, I'm the only one who could possibly take the fall, and it'd be a stretch. Anyway, hit me up on IM or whatever and I'll tell you all about it. I'm going to go take a nap now.

Electric Six are fucking hilarious. Freddy and I are definitely making a video this semester. It will be a documentary of Icaria, focusing on Eupheme. We will be wanting your participation, fellow students. Interviews are obligatory. I am terribly exhausted as of late, and am sure no one is wondering why. I have a hate/love relationship going with the weather. As soon as the Dean makes some fucking official declaration, I will start writing my article for the paper. Drama has abounded; it must be quenched with a firm and unrepenting hand.

Fuck. I need more condoms. Fucking weather. HI ALFRIC.

[Friends Locked]

So my bed is broken and I'm sleeping with my mattress on the floor. It's not at all uncomfortable. It kind of sucks, though, 'cuz the squeaky sounds were kind of nice. Alfric caught us and called our parents; mine didn't care much, since... well, they sent me to a private school so they could toss money at problems to make them go away.

Gytha, what did your folks say? Everything cool? Can we do something soon?

Also, my class schedule was presented to me.

French
Sociology
Film Studies
Political Science
Portrayal of Religion in Literature
Physical Education

Huh. So, Alfric basically handed me most of this schedule by force; his face suggested he wanted to use it as a condom to rape my sense of morale. I mean, seriously, Portrayal of Religion in Literature? Does he want me to light this place on fire? No, seriously. Ugh.

Well, at least I have French, and Film Studies with Freddy. We should do something with that, Fredster, make a documentary: Dean Alfric: Dendrophilia and Algorythmic Masturbation, or something. Phys Ed won't be a problem, I'm not in bad shape, and the rest is par for the course; but... man, fifth period is going to be Hell.

So fucking Pinochet is dead, the torturous fuck. They're saying heart attack. I'm saying bullshit.

Good riddance to the khuy, I hope him and all his kind rot in their own fucking filth.

Okay. I had this whole post planned out. I had a subject. I had a song I wanted to be playing when I wrote it. I even had an icon picked out.

I can't write that. It's... uh... yeah, I can't write that.

I would just like the world to know that:

This is much, much better. Thank you.

Alright, I feel pretty good lately, aside from some stuff that's been on my mind; but that's nothing new. I've been exhausting myself into my notepads, just writing and writing and writing and writing and trying to get out all the shit that I have in my head concerning Halloween. I fucking hate that holiday now, I swear. It was one of the few holidays that I thought was relatively interesting, even if it is religious in origin, but now... now I just hate it like all the others. At least it taught me something. But that's for the notepads. This is for cool stuff.

So I've been hanging with this person on and off and am having great fun. Can't say who on here, for personal reasons-- ask me, it's not what you think unless you've been told.

Smutty Moll might be playing on Friday at Homecoming. It all depends on whether Sam gets his dreads together and calls Austen-- yeah, you, Jane-- or not, and whether Joyce and Geoff can get their heads out of their asses to actually give a crap.

(I will kick both your asses if you don't shape up, I swear).

I am officially taking requests for songs: comment below if you have any suggestions. Remember, we play ska-- so it's gotta be something we can convert; don't pitch any death metal my way, hmm? Also, we'll be taking (again, reasonable) requests during the dance, most likely.

Alright, I'm going to go shower.

To: mbakunin@euphemewebmail.com
From: anarcothingtwo@exiled.net
Subject: SURPRISE!

( Aaaaaw, Mishenka! )

"[...] is not the purpose of romance and love to bring together that which needs to unify for the human race to continue its existence? In this we find the inherent flaw of it, as we confuse the purpose of emotions and instead attribute to them more than they deserve. However one must always attempt to understand what place something occupies within a structured social hierarchy- in this the relationship between two people is solitary in its all-encompassing nature: it can occupy any place, as it doesn't exist on a level even comparable to others. Rationale and structure are anathema to it and we find that control is a nice dream, but in the end just that: a dream. The question is: do we grip to a dream and fight reality, or do we instead embrace the chaotic and entropic nature of such things, and allow it to thrash like a hurricane through the deck of cards we have carefully balanced into a house? [...]"

I hear the rumor mill is turning,
to try and stop it is a waste of time.
Who fucked? Who'll be on the front page?
The local air is thick with painted lies.
Truth in disguise!

When you go out... they'll be watching
... (eyes on you)...
I feel them all around;
come tomorrow and they'll all start talking,
in this little town.
Now watch me drown!

Accusations and assumptions,
will fill you up and start to cloud your mind.
The room is filled with stagnant conversation,
I see right through it with discerning eyes.
Beyond the lies!

... I never thought my faith in the human race as a living entity could be shattered at such a personal level. I'm going to go weep, and then barf, and then drink until I'm unconscious, because this is fucked up.

Yes, I'm talking about you.

( E-mail from Mika to Charlotte. )

It stings Mikhail a little to lie to her- all isn't forgiven, the world isn't fine, and he's not feeling any better. But she's vanished, and that makes it all seem just a little inconsequential at the moment.

It happens every time. Every. Single. Fucking. Time.

I try to be nice, I fuckin do, but people are just plain stupid. Sometimes I wonder if there's even hope for this place, much less the world. Everywhere I turn there's this fucking stench of selfishness and greed. Me me me. Every time. It's always the same fucking song, sung in a different tune, with a different melody- but always the same god damn FUCKING song.

I am sick of this shit. I can't believe this crap- it's fucking bullshit. People don't know what they want- but they SURE AS HELL WANT IT. Fucking assholes. Idiots. I'm through.

Y'all can go to that Hell you're so proud to fucking believe in.

Concert tonight. Fucking awesome. I've been waiting for these guys to come around here for a long time. Anybody that wants to join me, I'll be at the bus stop to the city at eight. Be there or be left in the dust.

Let's Make History - The (International) Noise Conspiracy

Woke up and yet again something isn't right
There is talk about dancing
On the barricades but someone special is on my mind
Sure enough seems simple but what can I say
There's a million things worth fighting for, like making you stay

You can call me romantic, you can call me what you will
But when I think about the revolution you're still in my dreams
'cause every time I look in the mirror I just want to scream
How are we going to make history when you are not here with me?

And baby yet again my heart's still red
But it is hard having the energy
To fight when everything is spinning around in my head
Sure enough seems simple but what can I do
There's a million songs about politics, related to you

You can call me romantic, you can call me what you will
But when I think about the revolution you're still in my dreams
'cause every time I look in the mirror I just want to scream
How are we going to make history when you are not here with me?

Keep on keepin' on, gotta keep the dream alive
Keep on keepin' on, gotta make it not just try
Keep on keepin' on, gotta keep the dream alive
Keep on keepin' on, gotta make it not just try

You can call me romantic, you can call me what you will
But when I think about the revolution you're still in my dreams
'cause every time I look in the mirror I just want to scream
How are we going to make history when you are not here with me?

Let's make history right now...

Snuck in to see the Vandals when they played last night.  I cut my knee on the barbed wire, but it's alright.  Some idiot started spewing gasoline and almost fried everyone, but a couple of guys and I kicked his ass out.  I was going to light him up, but then I thought better.  If he's dead, he'll never learn.  Next time, though.

I'm trying to figure out how to pass CALM without showing up.  I'm pretty sure the teacher's given up on me ever being present, as I only went the first class, and have been absent ever since.  I haven't gotten a letter or anything, though, so...hmm.  Then again, I probably already flunked the class...fuck it.

The concert was ripping;  I moshed till my hear felt like it exploded, and then some of the guys and I went down to the train tracks and had some booze.

Somebody's at my window.  Gotta go.

Been there, done that.

<td align="center">You will get laid backstage at a concert



You will most likely get laid at a concert. You dig music, and the cuties who rock your world. So see who’s playing soon and get a ticket – you never know who you’ll meet there.

Take this quiz at QuizUniverse.com</td>