~> ego.nuggit.nu <~ mng/cmt

This is an archive of journals from late high school. A bit like a diary, this was a personal fork off of my senior project at the time to build a fully functioning blog site that people could sign up for, manage, and etc. I managed to recover all the posts, but I apparently forgot to back up the comments and attached music tables before repurposing my personal server, so those are mostly gone. This is a little embarrassing but not as awful as my old Geocities/tcn.heathenkitties.net early high school journals.


2008-05-17 02:15:50 Category: Literature
It was dark. My parents were asleep. But I had things to do. I sat on the floor in the area between the livingroom and hallway. I picked up the phone and dialed a number, but when it was picked up, there was silence. "Hello?" I said. Nothing. Was anyone listening? "Hello?" I asked again. I held it and listened. Then finally, a distant-sounding voice came through, an exasperated sounding woman: "Hello?!" "Hello," I said. "Hello?!" she said again. My mouth was open. Could she hear anything I said? Was she even there? It sounded like a recording...

I hung up.

Immediately, the phone rang. I grabbed it, not wanting to wake my parents. "Hello?"

After a moment, a man's voice answered hello. "Hello?" I asked again. Then a woman's voice. A torrent of "Hello?"s rushed out from the receiver all from different people, and I could not answer to each one--I hung up, and the phone rang again, same thing. I was scared. Who were all these people? Why were they recorded? Why were they calling me?

When the phone rang again, I pressed a button to hang up on it. It immediately rang again. I could not press the button fast enough. I wondered why my parents weren't up to see what this was all about. I hoped it wasn't bothering them too much.

I picked up the receiver again, and it was the same torrent of Hellos. "Hello?" I tried. "Hello? Hello?!"

"Hello," said a mechanical voice behind me. I whired around and saw
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Oh, the things I think of in the morning

2008-05-14 09:33:57 Category: Literature
Teenage girls should drink milk every day, so they can soak up calcium and help prevent osteoporosis later in life. Asian girls should especially pay attention because they tend to shrink and get osteoporosis more as old ladies than others.
I made this little doodad to help people remember: DAILY DAIRY
See what I did there? Just one change in lettering.
Too bad it doesn't rhyme though. "Daily derry"
And too bad it loses all meaning when the target Asians pronounce it. "Deily deily?"

*ba-dum tch*
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2008-04-11 11:47:16 Category: Literature
(This was one of the dreams I had last night. For srs.)

I was an old man. Getting to be a frail old man, but I was still up and about. I walked the single-lane street beside the lake while my cronies rode in their square freighter truck thing, inching along. It was never busy in the evening here--only short, nameless business buildings lined my side of the street. We were all talking. He mentioned Candy, my favorite and regular prostitute, was "dead" now and was doing necrophilia. He laughed. I had seen these necrophiliac-catering prostitutes before--they got some drug and a lot of makeup, but they weren't really dead. "She's not really dead," I told myself.

A few days later I decided to see if she was really doing it. This brothel was very good, well-staffed in all areas and covering all the major fetishes as well as the classic services. I came in to the large signing room, like the cashiers at a grocery store but with each line signing up for a different service. All lines were relatively full, but the necro-fetish line, with Candy's trademark gumdrop decorations, was empty. I came up and the cashier looked at me with her brightly painted face. She recognized me, and her cherry red lips parted. I spoke with my croaky voice. "Is Candy really..?" Her eyes teared up. "She's really dead," she cried. "Last week..." We embraced, and I made a sound that echoed around the room, a low, growling, moaning sob. She cried and patted my back. Like a baby. I couldn't stop sobbing. A few people looked at us, and nobody else came through the line.

Candy was my favorite.
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Vocabulary: um... Being a Leader in Times of Hardship

2008-03-20 10:54:12 Category: Literature
Don't be a bish and exacerbate the situation, as that will only get you censure and relegation; use your candor to mitigate it instead and that will receive you plenty of extol.

(I like to think brevity is good when practicing vocabulary words.)

exacerbate = make a situation worse
mitigate = opposite of exacerbate
censure = strong official disapproval
extol = strong praise (also sounds like Xtal, which is an excellent song by Aphex Twin)
relegate = demote
candor = frankness and sincerity
brevity = quality of being brief
bish = an East-Indian poisonous plant
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Poems written for English

2008-02-28 09:59:59 Category: Literature
3 Haikus:
airflow through the rooms
scent of spring replaces dust
it has been a while.

text in place of touch
IM noises haunt my days
I wish I was there

eyes deceive the ears
million tiny movements turn
to a silent din
(Title of that one is "It's Noisier Outside")

(This was written after that one blog "My Love Isobel". Similar, yes? This is the first proper sonnet I've ever written. They're hard.)

Stainless steel's a mantra in my mind
Stepping asphalt hard under my feet
Inhale deep to let the blood unwind
Bringing reason back with each heartbeat
But reason doesn't linger very long
As we're built to physically survive
When you find yourself in the wrong
The brain shuts down to keep you sane, alive
Every week releasing self respect
Every day spent aging premature
Every hour fermenting intellect
And in one small thing I remain sure
I can't lose the people in my head
I will dream my life upon my bed.

(We had to write about some tabloid story.)

Keyword search for Lohan spikes
if you check Google Trends...
What's all this, what's all this hype?
I'll tell you what, my friends.

Lindsay in a Monroe wig
posing nude for all
freckles on her face and leg
holding see-through shawls.

Marilyn Monroe did this
in 1962.
As Lindsay loved her, it was her wish
for her to do it too.

And so she sheds her childish look
and she has no regrets--
The rest of the public make fun of her
while hoping for more sets.
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From Blossoms

2008-02-05 17:18:12 Category: Literature
I love this poem.
I think I will print this out and put it on my wall.

From Blossoms
by Li-Young Lee

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.
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