This and That... Mostly That

In my last post I was so upset because of a picture of the hanging... Now they have the full video up all over the Internet. It's disgusting. I am so repulsed by the world right now. Curiosity makes you want to go to YouTube and check it out. I admit I thought about it, but I can't. And there's a reason for that. It's not something I discuss a lot. I may have mentioned it twice since it happened and I don't think I've ever written about it. It holds a very dark, scarred corner of my mind.

Remember a few years ago when all those decapitations were going on? Well, in a particularly depressed/dark moment I began looking to find them. I found one and I watched it. People talk about how we are do desensitized by the horror movies and such, but I don't believe it. I watched horror movies all the time. I wrote horror stories. I had dark, bloody images running through my mind constantly. But this was an entirely different matter. Since then I haven't been able to watch horror movies the same way again. I can't read horror the same way I used to. The images that flashed on my computer screen traumatized me. The sounds, the awful sounds that can only be likened to pigs, the horror of it happening in black and white. I want to throw up just thinking about it. So I cannot understand how people can watch this hanging video then go to a message board and talk about it like it did nothing to them. Sure, it's a different set of circumstances, but it's still the death of a human being. A real death. How the hell can people not be affected by it?

So, changing the subject, I found a journal I wrote back in 1993, when I was nine! It was so strange to find it again. It clearly shows how warped I was in my thinking. On one page I would promise to write every day then you turn the page and it's dated for over a year later. And it'd be okay if I did this once, but no, I did it SEVERAL times. There's one entry where I write "write back soon" at the end of it (directed toward the journal). There's one where I write to the journal: "Hang on I want you to watch me dance to honky tonk mery go round wasn't that great well gotta go." This should show you what a lonely child I was.

My poem "Infinitely" was accepted for an anthology of 60 poems by JMW Publishing. The only real reason I mention this is because on the acceptance letter there was a HANDWRITTEN note. This was great because usually when I get things published there is no hand-written thing (cause they're really all scams, anyway). It was exciting to get this little personal touch. Still a scam, though ("Buy the book! Buy the book! Buy the book!").

Peace out.