the junk mail is madness preventing much of the fun actually downloading and receiving and reading mail from potential new friends cuz it's gotten to the point where than one or more of my mailboxes (including the mailbox to my domain) fills to capacity (10MB... six got there this week) in less than twenty four hours and therefore some mail bounces each day and most I never even see even though it takes forever to download...

since last week (maybe the move has something to do with it), my dialup ISP (that is all my little laptop has access to) has been disconnecting me before the mail downloads, which sucks because it means all the mail has to be downloaded again, in duplicate, triplicate, etc... which takes forever and clogges up the hard drive and slows down everything and wastes more time... but I'm not here to complain, for I have hope...

my hope is that some brilliant hacker creates a virus or worm or spider or something that seeks out the originating ISP and computers that send the junk mail and infects the junk mail idiots of the world with a program that produces ever-looping junk mail returned one for one for every mail that computer sends out until the originating computer is so jammed with junk mail, there's no way to clear the drive or do anything but turn the machine into an expensive doorstop... every last one...

come on, all you brilliant hackers out there... show us your genius... seriously... do what no one has ever been able to do before... stop the establishment capitalistic telemarketing machines... take down the big business bullshit and shove it back into their pieholes... turn the tables... show the SPAM merchants that you are smarter than they are... take them down...

I dare you...

I thank you

meanwhile, behind the candoor and away from the keyboard and mail, life goes on... the women (and girls, specifically, for my taste, Rogue... she always makes me miss kissing) of X-Men fly across the screen in the background stimulating hormonal impulses and hungry desires (as opposed to fulfilled or numb or any other desires) rise up from the sanctuaries within my depths where they are neatly stored (as well as the tons of stuff of music and books and toys and games and such still sealed in the 20 x 50 foot just southwest across the water from where I lost myself) to reincarnate the magic that once was my life...

and so the usual distractions of life and roommies continue to bring fun and frolic and fascinating folly into the life that otherwise might be more focused and creative and definitely without the Pepsi (which we shall call P from here on in cuz it seems to me that my diary might be becoming a P commercial at times) addictions... addictive behavior sometimes bugs me because I have some (mmmmm, chocolate) and being imperfect, I am not always securely separated and in control of my addictive behaviors, the I can let myself feel threatened by the influence of other people's addictive behaviors, especially when they are constant, non-stop, and always in my face and usually in my way (like one shelf of the fridge is always full of P and an open bottle of P is almost always placed directly in front of whatever I have in the fridge... luckily I have no craving for Pepsi, but it does remind me of other cravings... but that is my insecurity and has nothing to do with anyone else and I know that so shut up and ignore and remember the serenity saying about accepting that which I can not change.. right)...

I've been asked more than a few times if I exaggerate my roommates dependency on P (and ultimately the sugar and caffiene and so on) by calling it an addiction... what would you call it when they wake up and go straight to the fridge and to their 24oz bottle of Pepsi that they keep with them every waking hour... out to work and school with a bottle and buy a few through the day and then return from work and school drinking from their third or fourth 24 oz bottle for the day which begins an evening of consuming another 24 oz bottle or few (not including the bottles that are just for mealtimes)... in terms of time of waking hours spent consuming their particular drug of choice, they outshine even the most devout junkie or alcoholic in sheer duration and quantity of consumption... the frustrating part for me is that I care about them and they are doing their best to be quite oblivious to the damage they are doing to their bodies and minds... and as Precious is ballooning up more and more each day, the habits will effect her for a lifetime if she doesn't wake up and get a handle on it soon... how do we teach the importance of abdominal muscles to physical actualization of conscious awareness in this life to people from a culture that has no idea? (sit ups?)...

and it effects her concentration and attention span (and Raspy is a whole other zombie at times thanks to his constant IV flow of Diet P) as evidenced by her PSAT scores which we just went over... she knows, she just zoned during the test...

and it is challenging for me to resist sometimes too...

I suppose, as somebody pointed it out to me recently, I may give you a skewed perspective of my roommies because it's easier to find something to write about when it distracts of disturbs... but it's not always complaining... some may not (some obviously do not) understand my warped perspectives and unabashedly irreverent sense of humor and tendency to mock just about everything... and truth be exposed bare naked for all to see, I've been more personally negative in my own life choices and overall perspectives in recent times since dying for the second time on the streets of Toronto and Buffalo and Ft. Lauderdale and Orlando and points in between, as reflected by my apathetic attitude toward exercise and eating habits and general welfare and so on, so even my warped perspectives maybe be more skewed than even I realize and even my unabashedly irreverence sense of humor may be less funny than I want to think it might be in my own mind at the time and maybe mocking just about everything is not the right way to live...

naaaaaaaaaa...

this entry has a part two

. o O ( NOTES ARE THE NEW HAPPY PILL ) O o .
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