I don't remember what's wrong with me,
but I look at other peoples' faces and I don't see mirrors or windows.
don't quite feel like a million [tinie] me's I can't keep track of
but I know I'm not a bad mother
and as far as I know I'm not real or here.
The point of no return either never affected me or just wasn't there at all.
How on Earth do all those people reach the sky and fly, and why do they bother any more at all?

hehehehehehehehe
i always hated that.
HEHEHEHAHA HOOOOOOEE!!!!
i see you          GETa
we're all a little mad

i'll be a good person
just for today
then maybe all my bad person days
will be okay

ahh but I know what I'm trying to say.. .

he brought me lie-lacks :) i feel almost like a person.

so i redesigned my journal. the form won't work until unpuppet.com is back up. please, please don't tr+y to go to unpuppet.com. it's been stolen by my lie-unlacked enemy. my temporary url is http://server6.donhost.co.uk/~unpuppet until the dns r+esolves completely, it may have already where you are and should be completely done tomorrow.

if my post ends up being r+andomly littered with +'s [and i know it is, even though my eyes are bouncing exclusively fro+m the rain to the keyboard], it's because the keyboard is having + spazms and inserting them where it pleases, though it seems to favour the spot directly following r's. i should reboot.

lovely things
! we've finished our demo
! there's a thunderstorm warning
! my hair is long enough to lie flat now
! i'm now 20 :)
! i have a new spiderweb*widow dress with tr+ails and laces
! daydream wired us $400 so i can become a us resident

horrid things
. my sites are down & i'm losing customers
. a bed spring wire spikes my bottom when i tr+y to sleep
. there was a nasty car accident outide our building today [i think it was today..] & people got hurt++++
. those awful +'s
. daydream wired us $400 so i can become a us resident

love my lie-lacking.

anything anyone's ever said to me
echoes over&over in my head

insensitivity and key lime pie fascinate me

if i were a spider girl and a lizard girl
what other kind of girl would i be?
i must be at least three

if only i had reasons
non-reasons seem to so upset people

i doubt i'm dreaming
if only i had some sort of ambition

if only my eyes and ears weren't so muffled
and my mind weren't so befuddled

all those unfinished if only's
i'm sure there's one outcome to suit them all
it's probably something to do with being happy
i am happy!

i found today a birdcage for $2.59 i wanted very badly
for no reason other than it was a birdcage
i suppose i would have filled it with dried lie-lacks
if only i had bought it

spider girl with
spider long arms,
spider sharp fangs &
spider like charms.

with my million eyes
i'll wrap you up tight
and suck you dry,
spin sparklie threads
& dew drop webs
to capture&keep you
til i'm hungry again.

tendrels growing all over my skin
have twirled and curled and trapped me within
winding and entwining with whatever's near
confining

lizard girl in
pre-dreamed dreams,
wishing she weren't
as sick as she seems.
[nothing is ever as it seems]

schizophrenia&speed
coming together
to make her bleed,
her scars are stars
in lizard blood:
she has beautiful skin but
she'll never fit in.

my throat has opened so wide
that all the birds have flown inside
and i can hear them deep inside me
twittering

sparrow girl
whose heart is the world,
not understanding
what's wrong with her.

always over their heads
flying or not,
thankful for everything
everyone else has got;
but she's so over thought!
she let too much inside her head,
and now she's dead.

my fingers have grown so long
my knees have grown so weak
my eyes have grown so wide
and i think my outlook was always bleak

last night's dream caught me:

i was fencing with beccah, a friend from sixth grade, and an-other girl i didn't know. we were practicing, not actually competing, but suddenly beccah seemed to forget that minor detail and came at the other two of us with deAth in her eye. she wounded the girl and turned to me, and i killed her.

i immediately knew i was in trouble, and ran to my mother's bed, where she was sleeping. i woke her up, telling her what i'd done. the authorities found me and took me straight to trial. my lawyer was black, as was beccah, and thought i should be found guilty of murder because in killing beccah i was obviously acting on previously hidden racist tendencies. my lawyer obviously hated me, and for that the judge dismissed her. i broke down and cried, for lawyers weren't supposed to be like that, and the jury felt supremely sorry for me, comforted me, and let me off on self defense.

i returned home to find a crowd of nasty chicken-rabbits had overtaken my yard, and i scattered them away.

something french is trying to distract me
but i always sit in front of the television only to get up after 5 minutes
unless powerpuffs or looneytunes are dancing for me :

i've spent today uploading the contents of this hard drive to unpuppet.com [i dare you to see if you can find it] so that tomorrow i can download it all to our neww computer.
yay
it's taken since 1 pm today to upload 40 mb

i found in my binarily rummaging a story i never finished
begun at least 3 or 4 years ago.. about a multiple ..not i
& this is it:

I would like to begin by making it perfectly clear that I am not, nor was I ever, a member of the village. I awoke some time ago to find myself within it; and for reasons I was not completely sure of at the time I refused to consider the possibility that I was like all the others. I declined to appoint myself a name, preferring to be known as 'The Observer', for that's what I felt I had been placed there to do. Where this feeling came from I was unaware of at the time, however it has recently all been made clear to me. What I now pen is a chronological account of my observations.

I was reluctant to awaken, but the voices wouldn't let me sleep. I was vaguely aware that what the voices were arguing about was me, and it was this knowledge that made me want to hide from them, to remain asleep forever. However they had no intention of letting this happen and continued to persist.
"There's no need to be scared..."
"We've gone through this before too..."
"...here to help you..."
"...know how you feel..."
"...want to help you..."
"We can be friends..."
"...help you..."
I became aware of my surroundings before I opened my eyes. The bed upon which I lay was hard and uncomfortable, coated with a plastic covering that stuck to my skin and crackled when I moved. There was a faint medicinal taint to the air which, for some inane reason, scared me. I could hear the muffled sounds of a television sitcom, how I knew what it was I wasn't sure, to my knowledge I had never watched one before. I frowned, to my knowledge I hadn't done anything before, I couldn't remember anything at all.
"...let us help you..."
A child giggled, "she's frowning!"
"I think she's coming to..."
"Can you hear us?"
I opened my eyes.
I was in a very small, very bare room. It was dark, there were no windows, but a sliver of yellow light found it's way into the cell via a crack under the door. A ceiling fan twirled lazily in wobbly circles, failing to relieve the stagnant, chemical quality of the air. I sat up slowly, expecting a headache; yet I felt nothing.
"Welcome to the village," said the first voice, "I am The Host."
"Welcome," the others echoed.
The headache hit me in an instant, and I fainted.

The second time I regained consciousness occurred in much more comfortable, almost familiar, surroundings; this time there were no voices, I was alone. I sat up on the king sized bed, and smiled in appreciation for the simple, yet tasteful, decoration of the bedroom I was in.
I had just wandered out of the room, intending to explore the house I was in, when a man I didn't recognise came barging out of another door in the hallway, nearly colliding with me.
"Watch where you're going, wench," he snarled. "Haven't you anything better to do than wander the rooms in a daze? Do the goddamn housework or something, lazy good for nothing bitch."
I just blinked in astonishment as he moved to shove past me, when I recognised one of the 'voices' from before.
"Shut up Stan," she took control, "like you ever do anything around here than spend entire days flattening your ass watching TV."
I sighed gratefully as Stan snorted and left, slamming a door on the way. "Thanks," I said. "Who the hell was that? For that matter, who the hell are you? and I?!"
The woman smiled, "that, unfortunately, was my husband. I'm Brenda, The Host of the village, of which you're the newest member!"
"The village?"
"A group of woman. Or females, I should say; seeing one of us is only five!" She grinned, "this is our home."
"Oh, a group? Of how many? And where are they? Forgive me, but I've still no idea what's going on..."
Brenda laughed, "no problem, I know exactly how you feel."
"You do?" I asked, suddenly feeling a bit better.
"Sure, all the members started out like this. You'll meet them, when they deign to make their presence known. They're all hiding out in their rooms! The cowards."
I laughed, liking Brenda from then on.

Thus I was introduced to 'The Village'. It consisted of ten members other than Brenda, some more prominent than others. Brenda was apparently the boss, and the original founder of the village.
The same day I met Athena, another member of the village. My explorations had led me to the attic, which had turned out to be an art studio. I was admiring a painting in progress and trying to figure out what it was meant to be, when she made herself known to me.
"Like it?"
"Sure, what is it?" I asked while mentally appraising her, guessing her age to be around 27.
"It's a self portrait."
I looked at it again, "It is?!"
"Well, it's abstract; obviously."
"You've got some serious issues then, girl."
She laughed, "My name's Athena. Have you chosen a name yet?"
"Chosen a name?" I repeated dumbly. I hadn't actually realized before that moment that I had no idea what my name was, or whether I had one at all.
"Yeah, all members choose their names."
"Oh, well I don't want a name. I'm not really a member, just an observer."
"Uh huh, sure. We'll just have to call you 'The Observer' then."
I liked the sound of that.

i'm resisting the urge to edit it extensively because i know i'll never actually finish it.. and i'm pretending my pride isn't that overwhelming .. [i just acknowledged the shitty-ness of my ex-writing.. exclamation point]

i've found emailing strangers a lot easier than usual lately
which is strange because the amount of emails i've been receiving from strangers has dropped dramatically the past week or two.. or three
i wonder if it has anything to do with the explosion of lucidity that must've taken place in my brain a week or two or three ago..
i'm sure it's all connected
i would be happy very if said lucidty would .. go

the new computer is very lovely indeed
and.. i have a scanner [!!] *quite ecstatic
and.. imbri.com is back up.. go there and buy many hostings and designings.
and.. imbri.com will soon be joining c-factor. which is..

i think i only have empathy for movie characters.

and some switchy lines, something from insanity.

a child giggled,
consciousness occurred,
she was waiting to happen.
me within: it's perfectly clear to think of the explosion of a trillion years.
and why do you think i was like palm trees and my observations,
opened my mind; seeing i killed her bleed
while mentally appraising her scars,
eyes have grown fond in appreciation.
why do anything for the voices from then on this.
you're finally here, to yourself again.. again--
the contents of a second is when a person realises
a bit better to add to be, filled full of fear from? why? yeah; and the room, time stagnant
i want to forget that overwhelming self portrait i feel..
explosive with pride.
obviously, i'm not today. lately my million eyes in the contents of eyes.
suppose everything could be open to interpretation.

i have firecrackers. i've never had firecrackers before. there are no firecrackers in australia.
they make me feel like a spider queen
or maybe that's everything else