The path is dark and twisted, a mirror of my own soul.
Leave your precious reality behind you; bring only your thoughts
and volitions. I can't offer you what I dont have, but I ask for nothing
in return, so it's a fair bargain. But dont make the same mistake
Faust did, for a bargain should not be taken lightly. This is my chamber, be it
of ecstasy, or other more primal emotions, but whatever it may be,
it is definitely not for the faint of mind. So take this torch and hold my
hand, but be warned, there are no definitives. Keep an eye always
open for that which is not what it seems.
1 The Punching Bag
2 Poetry
3 Fiona Apple
4 Quote of the Moment (Just Updated)
Well, I had to get rid of the Soap Box due to
a slight decrease in demand, which basicly means that there was none.
So I'm going to try something new. Like they say, nothing tried, nothing
gained. So welcome to the very first installment of the Punching Bag, the
place where you and I alike can vent our frustrations. Anything goes, be it
commentary, personal stories, or just rageful gibberish. Once again, I need
your help, so please, tell me what pisses you off, gets you mad, or just
makes you want to go postal on the general public. For now, I'll start us off.
You know what really pisses me off? Every time I walk into a store, there's always some asshole either behind the counter, or stocking shelves that always has to watch me like I'm Public Enemy Number 1. All I want is to grab some chips or something and get the hell out of there, but this guy, or lady because it is of course the 90's, will track me around the whole store, acting like he's busy, but keeping a constant eye on me. Like I'm too stupid to notice that he's checking up on me as he pretends to inspect some feminine products. Yeah right. It's one big fucking joke, and I'm the one thats just waiting for someone to say "Suprise, your on Candid Camara." So I just go ahead with my business, buy my stuff and leave. But what I really want to do, is walk up in there with a big fucking gun, put it right to his head, and then make him walk around the store a few hundred times. "How's that make you feel, jerk-off. Nice and comfortable, right?" Oh well. If I dont upgrade for a few weeks, you know what happened.
Since I'm already on the subject, here's a poem
that goes hand in hand with the Punching Bag section. I wrote it
while I was away at this program for writing because I was tired of
the way anyone under 30 gets treated by other supposed "mature adults."
The program consisted of about 250 people that went through a whole
mess of bullshit to get in, so we obviously wanted to be there. But
we still got treated as if we were fit for the state penitentiary.
So I related it to my numerous experiences in stores and came up
with this. I wont appologize for the blatent hostility on this
subject because I know we have all been in similar situations.
This one goes out to anyone that has ever had the right intentions,
but ended up feeling like crap.
I see the smooth gloss of tile floors, bright, yet non-reflective. There are countless rows of useless shit with colored labels and warm guarantees, satisfying and strangely appealing, but only a fool's comfort. Bubble glass in every corner protects against shoplifters. Sell-out assholes follow my every move. Don't watch me anymore. I'm harmless. A hungry soul in search of that last bag of Dorito's, or prehaps an embarrassed boyfriend looking at magazines when I want a box of Trojans. I come here all the time, quickly scanning the shelves, reaching for my desires. I pay like everyone else and try to make friendly conversation" "How are you?" "Beautiful day, isn't it?" "How about those Yanks?" And always the same fake smile, a cheap facade for $5.50 an hour. But I take my bag, legal and proud, and walk tall out the door through a silent security system.
This is Fiona Apple, an amazing talent and
extremely attractive woman. I was introduced to her recently by
a friend of mine, whos link you will find lower on the page (shark).
All it took was one song, and it was over. She has this distinctive
voice that completely consumes you. It wraps you in emotion, taps
into your own soul, and leaves you feeling almost empty when it
is silenced. Alright, youve heard it all before, and maybe I
exaggerated a little, but listen to her anyway. Do it for me.
Heres two song excerpts for Real Audio
Or listen to this wave file. Its a small part of my favorite.
And in case you missed it, here's the first pic I had up.
Fiona 1
Criminal
Never is a Promise
Never is a Promise
Check out the links section for more on Fiona!
Links to other sites on the Web
The Shark Tank--the original Shark, great pics & links
Dunas--more Fiona pics
Osiris-a must!!!
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