GOOOOOOOOOD, that was awful. I just experienced the most fearful scene in MULHOLLAND DRIVE first hand, with all the sights and smells. I could not bear it. Though I was 99.9% certain that there would physically be no dead body laying in the bedroom, I could not force myself to move past the entryway.

I had opened a doorway I had no right to pass, because I had so much repressed guilt within myself for all the women of this world. I would like to think that I could truly love just a few of them. Or maybe, even maybe. Just one. If she would still have me after I had nearly drank her, like a vampire, unto death. Just as Angel did with Buffy near the end of Season 3. Maybe if I'm feeling sick enough, I'll watch Innocene on DVD! (where the girl loses her... well... innocence, mind you)

I am a sick, sick soul. Blackest of the night. I have broken my promise. I wanted to hold my candlelight ritual. But I am a demon so black that no one will face me. They have tuned out my web site, and stopped reading. Shall I go on confessing the sickness I have performed on myself because my guilt was deeper than lust itself?

I vomit all the guilt out of my past into my present world. Shall I confess. May I confess, Dark Mistress of the Night?

I think we're going to be playing a little Ms J. Jackson a little later here tonight. But not for a while. I have delayed the ritual until 2300, because it took me more time to find the lighter implement to perform it than I had initially expected.

Tomorrow, I am going to clean myself up like never before. But tonight, let us party with the vampires. I am one. I wish there were others in my neighborhood, but I have driven them away. I wasn't quite ready to talk to them yet, or to taste of them. Too bad.

Now they are all dead or gone. There could be a woman's dead rotting body laying in the bedroom of the apartment next to me for all I know or care. It smelled pretty awful in there.

Yes, I opened the door that was not latched. I had knocked fairly strongly first, but I knew fairly deep inside me that there would be nobody answering. The life of her was gone. She was so fucking pretty. Supple and beautiful. And all she wanted of me was to borrow a hammer for 5 minutes.

But I was such a dank and disgusting pig that I couldn't even bring myself to invite her into my abode. I simply said, in the only shocked voice that a boy who has been zoning out alone in his dark room all day until 4 in the afternoon without a shower can offer, "Yeah, I think I have one."

I slammed the door in her face. I simply could not allow her in here. It was too dirty. And she was too nice, warm, and open.

This nasty pig found his hammer where he had left it: In the dresser. A decent hammer. It worked.

I returned to the door, cracked it open (just a little so she wouldn't breath too much of my stench), and gave this beautiful girl the hammer she had asked for. I felt like such a doof for not having at least given myself a shower.

I think I rambled about it briefly.... Let me see....

And here it is children. I DID ramble about it. But I didn't remember it being nearly this funny, or this innocent. Number 835. Sunday, June 9, 2002. I quote myself. "The power mysteriously blips on and off, causing Dagobah and Argo to reboot and fsck simultaniously."

....And there were be twitterpating in the air that day....

Gee, let's go watch Bambi. I don't think Disney is quite ready to give it to us again yet. But it will be. When will the copyright on that thing expire? Oh... a few years. What about the special features? When will the barriers on those expire?

...

Tonight, I saw that the door had been left open. Not open, just cracked. I had been looking down at the URGENT notice left in the door handle. There was a stench seeping from around the cracks.

But, I went and got my lighter at the gas station. I had even forgotten to hang my sign on the door. If this shit continues, by the end of the night, I might be doling Queensryche out the windows of my apartment up to the sky. Like at the Red Rocks concert that night in '97.

This song.

Nobody wants to listen to my songs, even though I have offered them. Nobody will enter my apartment to listen to music with me. A woman named Jennifer is holding deep grudges against me, and won't even answer icmp echo requests anymore (maybe she's dead of suicide for all I can tell), even though a woman named Jennifer entered my secret bed chamber in the night 6 days ago and took a cell phone alarm clock from me which I had been commissioned to deliver. When do I get my commission?

Right. I never asked for one. I never expected anything in return. I did as those before me had done by example. I gave and took of my innocence freely.

But now, this pile of vomit is rotting inside my stomach, even though I haven't eaten much of anything.

We were so happy as a Company back in April and May. Everyone seemed to have gotten over their old grudges, people were working together and getting things done. The jukebox had been discretely taken away when it was found that its presence might harm the legal status of the place.

So what kind of shit did those demonic freaks up at the top have against those of us who had done exactly what they asked? Oh, I'm going to go back and work at that place on Monday. I'm gonna work my hardest. I plan to work until around January. Maybe February.

Then, I will leave, pack the things I can fit into my car, and go to the mountains for a while. I'm sick of breathing this city's polluted air.

I'm not going to tell the rest of my disgusting guilt story tonight. I've had enough of it. I might watch some sickly teenophiliac episodes from season 1 or 2 though.

I might have to close my windows sometime after midnight. The smoke floating in through the breeze is getting to be to much. A little might be from people's cigarettes. But I think most of it is drifting this way from other neglected parts of the city.

So I can close my windows, turn on my air, and pump the toxins outside anytime I feel like breathing better. I might have to do that for a couple months.

(The HORRIBLE stench in that apartment across the hall was AWFUL though. I bet they are having trouble hiring people to clean it. Maybe if I'm feeling really brave, I'll elect myself to clean up the results of my own shit, take on the anarchy that is being pumped out, and clean it up myself. Then, when it is ready, we can invite a happy penguin couple coming down from Canada to inhabit the place, if they would like. That's just one ridiculous possiblity though.)

This city is getting too evil for me though. I have to leave. But first, I must purify myself. I must clean up my mess. I must work at my company until January. Maybe February. Then I will leave for the mountains in my car. That's my line, and I'm sticking to it.

I have a ritual to begin in about 6 minutes. Time to prepare for it. I must purify myself. Preparations commencing.