Log in

No account? Create an account
Slacker's Journal [entries|friends|calendar]

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

Slacker.. [23 Dec 2004|02:46pm]

[ mood | Enjoying coffee ]

Slack is spending large amounts of time doing absolutely nothing, being restricted from any form of entertainment for sake of 'vigilence', and being heavily armed. One has to love the modern military. In the cath 22 sense of it I have lived more since my enlistment then the average man could live in years with the cultivation of absolute boredum into the infinity of time transpiring. Oh yeah, hey I'm new.

1 Opinion\\ Hmm?

slacker [13 Dec 2004|08:35pm]

surf all day, eat burritos all the time then sleep. sounds like a slacker to me. ay, i'm liam.
3 Opinions\\ Hmm?

The New Chick [23 Jul 2004|12:56am]

[ mood | lazy ]

Hey people im kinda new here.Im Jenn by the way....hmMmmm "SLACKERS"huh....hmmm slacking off....i love doing that...your excited to do something or you have to do something and you're like awww hell i dont wanna do this ill just take a nap....wow nap sleep....sleep is good........damn can't sleep.....nap too long..........arg!!! dont feel like getting off this damn chair and go to my room!!!...damn ill be stuck on this chair for awhile watching late night shows.....damn....Im out...


New! [25 Apr 2004|12:20pm]

[ mood | awake ]

I am the all time slacker I've been working on four different comics for the past year trying to finish them in hopes someone would possibly like them and guess how far I am just guess! I am still on basic sketches and story lines. I need to get my ass in gear! Ahhhh.


[24 Jan 2004|06:18pm]
[ mood | pissed off ]

Say you have heartburn. You want to take a medicine. The medicine you want to take is Zantac, because that just happens to be the one I looked up for this particular question. Now, this medicine, it will make your heartburn go away. Just like the commercials promise. But. It also comes with side effects. Some of these side effects include dizziness, insomnia, constipation, diarrhea, depression, nausea/vomiting, abdominal discomfort/pain. Oh, and you might just get a rash, too. There are other symptoms, but these happen to be the most common. Sure, it seems like it causes a lot more trouble than it solves, but your heartburn is really bothering you and you want it gone. Do you take the medicine?

It doesn't have to be heartburn. It doesn't have to be Zantac, and it doesn't have to be those side effects. All I'm asking, simply, is: You have a problem, the medicine to solve your problem brings more problems. Do you take the medicine anyway?

(Yes, I realize that not all - if any - of the side effects will occur. But you don't know what will and won't happen.)

3 Opinions\\ Hmm?

[21 Jan 2004|09:22am]

1 Opinion\\ Hmm?

[21 Nov 2003|12:27pm]

what slackers.
1 Opinion\\ Hmm?

Chiiii? [15 Oct 2003|04:03pm]

[ mood | anxious ]

Yay! I got Chobits DVDs ^.^ They're completely different from the manga, it's almost like whatching a different anime! O.O|| Oh yes, everyone, wish me luck please! I entered the Rising Stars of Maga contest sponsered by TokyoPop, back in July, the winners list will be posted on Tokyopop.com on Nov.1st! I'm soooo nervous. O.O I don't really think I'll win, but, it'd be nice to have some support, ya know? ^.^|| Well, thats all, now I return to making sugar cookies with my Mom. ^.^ heeeee


i forgot! [22 Sep 2003|11:40am]

a song, too.

-The Last Pure Part of Me-

They cut me with the razor
while they shaved my head
it was a crime of love
but now they want me dead
baby I swear that I'm sorry
but know that it's true
I almost died the night
I saw him touching you
you've got a baby now
and I know it ain't mine
but I'd stick around
and raise him just fine

Oh baby while I'm gone
you know that life'll go on
I hope you'll think of me
when you're down on your knees
and tell your kid that his shot dad
is the best kinda father he could ever have

We were great together
we were two of a kind
I loved you even after
you left I Love You's behind
I pretended you cared
and you needed me still
I told myself
you hadn't gotten your fill
I followed your trail
I chased you through town
and when I saw your new boyfriend
I blew him down

Oh baby while I'm gone
you know that life'll go on
I hope you'll think of me
when you're down on your knees
and tell your kid that his shot dad
is the best kinda father he could ever have

Now they're strapping me in
for one hell of a ride
I sure hope they'll like me
on the other side
there's some cold metal chairs
sprawled out in front of me
an empty one in the front
where I hope you will be
'cause when they throw the switch
I want you to see that it's true
the last pure part of me
is the part still in love with you

Oh baby while I'm gone
you know that life'll go on
I hope you'll think of me
when you're down on your knees
and tell your kid that his shot dad
is the best kinda father he could ever have

story time [22 Sep 2003|11:38am]

[ mood | creative ]

“Why are you doing this? Why don’t you love me? You were supposed to love me.” Her voice was quiet; the drive behind it was irrational.
“What do you mean? I love you, you know I love you. I’m in love with you!” He held her upper arms, rubbed his palms from her shoulders to elbows. A sob coursed gently through her soft, weeping body.
“You’re not.” She shook her head. “You’re not. You try to make me feel bad, you like to make me jealous…” Her voice cracked and her body broke under a small current of despair. “You love talking about those other girls because you know there’s no one after me. You love to be better, you’re not happy unless you’re better than me!” Of course that wasn’t true.
Well, maybe he did like the attention.
Well, maybe he liked it a lot.
But that was no reason to kill her.
“Those girls mean nothing. You’re the only one I want.” She was a sweet girl. Pretty, too. Not as drop-dead as the girls he spoke of, but decent enough.
She could use a bit more make-up.
But her body. Oh, that body was a masterpiece. A dangerous tool. Just thinking about those curves, the softness of her pale skin, her firm breasts and full hips… Just thinking about her nude in bed, willing, ready, wanting… Just thinking about it was dangerous. Touching it was deadly.
But there were other girls. Other girls with flattering figures. Maybe if she just lost a few pounds…
She was sniffing and blubbering on about being in love. She really did always have something to cry about.
But that was no reason to…
“I love you so much,” she was saying. “I never try to make you feel bad.” Her voice was thick with misery. What a disgusting sound. “I always try to make you happy.” A really horrible sound. “I try to ignore my feelings when you do this.” The agony in it. “But I can only ignore it for so long.” The grating against his ears. “You’re not even listening to me!”
But her body…
“You’re not even looking me in the face.” Horrible, betrayed misery. “You don’t even care.”
Her curves, her skin.
“Let’s make love.” It sounded and tasted ridiculous coming off his tongue. He never made love to her. He fucked. He screwed.
“How can you ask me that?” The searching eyes. Mystical, hurt gray eyes. “How can you honestly…”
“One last time.” The way it felt to undress her, to expose her… Even when she was unwilling.
Especially when she was unwilling.
The way she tried to cover herself with blankets. The way her hands slid around timidly when there were no blankets to be had. The way those small, sweet fingers would try to cover as much flesh as they could.
“Last time? So now you’re breaking up with me!” Her body prepared for the defense; closing off the sorrow, opening up the anger. She got nasty when she was angry. She was a sweet girl, all right, but when she was pissed off she meant business. “I can’t believe you!”
She was downright sexy when she was pissed.
He moved to embrace her.
“Don’t touch me, you fuck!” He loved when she screamed.
“Fuck this.” He reached for his zipper. Her eyes widened.
“That better be fake,” she said quietly. A shaky finger pointed to his waistline.
Those sweet, small fingers… How amazing they looked wrapped around him…
“You promised…” Back to the crying. “You promised you’d never use it around me or carry it around me.” The thick, ugly sound. “I never break a promise. You promised me…” Her eyes were pleading. She wanted to forgive him. She always wanted to forgive him.
“Shh.” He reached out and she slid perfectly, routinely into his arms. He moved his right hand to his waist as he kissed her head.
(The scent of her hair the feel of her body the taste of her lips the wonders of her mouth the magic of her hands)
Then he pulled the trigger.


poetry reading. *grabs the mic* [03 Sep 2003|07:26am]

[ mood | sleepy ]

-The Beaten Weep-

who could hit a pretty girl
who does much less than smile
she has a bounce and wears a curl
she falls just once in a while
she grew up to have a mind
oh what a fatal spell
she up and left it all behind
for it suited her well
she came back for just one day
to leave if he would hit again
but evil things have a way
to ensure they always win
first a slap and then a slug
he caused the blood to run
it dripped onto and stained the rug
he beat till he was done
her mother always did believe
that it was all a lie
and it would all up and leave
every time she closed her eyes
but as she laid her baby down
in the ground to sleep
she opened up to the sound
of the beaten weep

..doesn't it get boring with only me posting here?..

1 Opinion\\ Hmm?

my 7 to 9 [02 Sep 2003|10:11am]

[ mood | amused ]

Octavius and Gorgi and I are locked in an invisable shell. only for another 35 minutes. I asked Octavius to change the batteries in my walkman for me... he thought he'd be economical and only change the bad one. turns out he changed the good one. OW LEG CRAMP... [enter stick figure of me with a leg cramp here] So now we're not only stuck, we're stuck without music! *gasp* AND there's a bunch of small frosh around... it's scary. they think they're cool.. makes me giggle. [enter stick figure of me giggling at small stick figure frosh here]
Anyway, Sir Markuston, the purple alligator, showed up for a while. He's not really purple, but we think it sounds better than "the blue alligator." He doesn't mind. He had waffles for breakfast and dripped maple syrup on his pants. I told him that I had a waffle for lunch yesterday.
(the frosh is picking his nose.)
Sir Markuston likes the girl who just sat down at the other table. we said: you silly gator, you like ALLIGATORS, not GIRLS! and he said: no actually that's not true, I dated a crocodile once. And besides, if Octavius can date another guy, why can't i date a human? He had a point there. So Gorgi went over to the girl's table and said: Hey, you see that handsome gator over there? No, the blue one.. yeah. How would you like to date him? She flipped her blonde hair rather disgustedly and said: He'll EAT me! (her voice was kinda squealish). and Sir Markuston said: mmm you bet your sweet ass I will, baby! and we were all rather embarrassed. Gorgi apologized and sat back down with us. We all felt bad (well, Sir Markuston was laughing), but I saw her look over a few times and i honestly think she was turned on.
Anyway, after that Octavius and Gorgi wanted to play swords. I said: dudes, the shell is INVISABLE, you can't play here. Sir Markuston said he'd beat them both anyway (no pun intended), but we said: you don't play with your tail, Sir Markuston. and he said: I know. And we laughed.
Then Shannen stopped in and we talked for about thirty seconds. Then she left and everyone said: ooooh. They think i have a crush on her, but i just think she's attractive.
Then Dr. White came in and we pointed her out to Sir Markuston 'cause he's never seen her. He got up and said: excuse me, Mrs. White? and she said: I did not attend evil medical school for seven years to be called "Mrs." and so he said: sorry. DOCTOR White? can I eat you? And she thought it sounded kinky so she lied down on a table and Sir Markuston swallowed her in one gulp! it was so cool! so no more principal. Then Olsen walked in (he saw the whole thing) and screamed: What have you done, you monster!? you ATE my homosexual lover!! And he ran away crying. That's right, folks! Our principal is really a MAN! Shocking? No, didn't really surprise me, either.
And now I've written too much and my hand hurts, so I'll continue the saga at a later date. like third period. [enter stick figures of the four of us waving goodbye here]

2 Opinions\\ Hmm?

[18 Aug 2003|11:13am]

[ mood | contemplative ]

i've gone from society's baby to society's slave. it all seems so very trivial when you look at it... but the system is all about the details. everyone is trained from the day their born... we have the rules. the one who finishes with the least broken rules wins. but i'm finished being concerned about winning. i guess the only thing is, school sucks enough as it is, i don't want to go to a new one... but fuck wouldn't it be nice if i could just say fuck it all and i could go do what i want. be my own person. fuck these rules, fuck the system, and fuck everyone caught up in it. i could be a fuckin pioneer :) everything is woven so tightly.. if one stitch is defiant, there's a snag, and everything is a little less pretty now.
like i said before... i know that this is the year i've been waiting so long for. only 9 and a half months and i can do whatever i want. but it's ridiculous how much this little amount of time means. it's all the difference between a brave girl seeking life after graduation and a fucking impatient moron. the difference between having a family and being disowned (even if it has nothing to do with the family). the difference between playing the game and being the game. although i don't know which i've been doing. and i think if i go through with this, it'd be neither.

but if i stay until my birthday, i can do the SLC thing...
"mom and dad, i'm 18 and finally i can say FUCK YOU"
i'm in love with that movie :)
i'm stuck
dunno what to do
i know i'd be throwing away a lot
but gaining a lot at the same time.
i just need to think more ..
i bet i know what you're all thinking. that's ok, 'cause the system is wrapped up in you, too (i don't mean the "system" like i'm some psycho talking about the gov't or something... i just mean the system of things, like the rules we all have to follow... so don't think i'm going out of my mind just yet). just consider it. i don't care if you don't agree with me, i just want you to see where i'm coming from. there's still hope for human kind if you haven't been blinded by the system! *does insane laugh and runs away to look for ufo's....*


[25 Jul 2003|04:39pm]

story time. gather 'round, young'uns.

-The Wild Flee-

She smacks me because she can’t see him. He doesn’t like her. He runs. I cry for him.
“Stay!” I scream. “Don’t you dare leave me! They’ll kill me! I swear to you they’ll kill me! You’ll be sorry! Sorry when you see my rotting corpse, you filthy little fuckhead!” She pushes me to the wall and has a knife to my throat.
“There is no one there,” she says through her teeth. “No one. Do you hear me?” I nod slowly. She brings the knife down. Pieces of her dark brown hair are in her face. There’s a green pepper on the cutting board. My face is red; more with fury than the palm of a frightened mother’s hand.
He doesn’t care? He’s never left when I needed him. Oh, and I needed him so bad then. Why, he could have taken the knife and stabbed her so many times… But what if he ran then and I’d be the only suspect? That rotten little prick would have used my very own fingerprints and wiped the blood on me when he finished! Lucky for the little coward he ran before I could get my hands on him! I could grab that knife and track him down before he got two blocks. I’d saw his fucking legs right off his goddamn yellow-bellied body then use them to beat the ever loving shit out of him. That’d teach him a thing or two. Teach him to run out on a battle.
The woman. She’s saying something. Pills. Pills, I don’t want to take pills. They take me to hell. The devil himself dissolves in my throat and takes me over. He makes me say things and do things that really are perverted and vile and the man and the woman only smile and say, well, that’s much better. He straps me down, squirming in my very skin. He staples my mouth, stakes my spine, knits my hands, and laces my mind.
No pills. I’m wild; I’m supposed to be wild. The wild hunt, the wild stalk, the wild… flee.
“You know why you don’t see anyone, right?” When the evil is already in me, it makes me answer that no one is there. It makes me lie. The woman is handing a glass of water to me. Pill is next.
My eyes dart to the door. That scoundrel got away. I’d hold that pill beneath my tongue and tear through that door and down the street and when I find him I’ll claw his Godforsaken eyes out and shove the hellhounds down his throat.
The woman squeezes my chin and looks into my eyes.
“Why is no on there?” she persists. My eyes darken as I tear them from hers, towards the open door.
“’Cause he got away.”
2 Opinions\\ Hmm?

the red white and blue. [04 Jul 2003|11:43pm]

[ mood | bitchy ]

happy america day.

rant: slacker americaCollapse )

3 Opinions\\ Hmm?

[18 Jun 2003|07:16pm]
[ mood | sore ]

Post, demnit. >:O

2 Opinions\\ Hmm?

[12 Jun 2003|10:29am]

[ mood | sick ]

"What're you kids doing here?"
"I dunno, what are we kids doing here?"
"Gettin' it up the ass."
"Yeah, we're gettin' screwed. There a law against that?"

taha! name that movie and win a scooter.


Lawrence [07 Jun 2003|12:53pm]

[ mood | mischievous ]

blood encrusts his nails
would you listen to his tales
describes the woman's scream
more vivid than your wetest dream
each erotic case
each and every sinful taste
will always linger on his tongue
as he devours precious young
eats them whole and full of fire
leaving him with more desire
laps it up until he's done
spreads some blood for a little fun
slaps her once and sends her home
so he can spend the night alone
fantasy drips from every pore
each second leaving him wanting more
stores the cuffs beneath the bed
wipes the tears of yearn he shed
dries blood and sweat off of his brow
restless till tomorrow's prowl


Ugly Today [02 Jun 2003|11:49am]

I looked in the mirror
saw a little girl
so confused by the world
oh and so ugly
I'm glad I'm not her

Yet again, I've stared at myself too long. It would be wise to eliminate all the mirrors in the house. The bathroom mirror is fogged up and only a candle is lit in the dark. The small flame dances and plays with my eyes. I make up a small rhyme about a ghost, convinced that it follows me everywhere, especially to mirrors. I dry off and slip into pajamas with half-closed eyes. It always is so painful to use them when the only image I have before me is my own reflection. There's a pair of scissors sitting on the counter. I can't go against his word, so I don't cut. Instead, I let the metal blades hover above the candle flame and draw them to my arm. They're only slightly warm and this time I slice them through the middle of the flame a few times, pressing it back against my skin. Hardly a twinge of pain. This time I let the blades sit in the flame until the metal turned black. When I lift them out, I'm hesitant. I linger only a moment before pressing them into my skin. As I feel the heat rip through my flesh, my first reaction is to pull the blades away. My hand flinches but I'm determined to keep it in place. Suddenly, the harsh pain melts away, leaving warmth in its place which seems to flow through my entire body. My lips curve into an entranced smile, fascinated that this, my first intentional burn, has worked so well. I repeat the process several times, blowing out the candle once I have two lovely blisters, surrounded by halos of singed skin. I would later spread the word that I had found "something better than cutting."
Of course, no one would understand. "Don't do that," they said. But they didn't know. They didn't live in this body. They didn't see this every time they saw their reflection. When I said that I wished to be beautiful, they said, "It's against the laws of nature to be beautiful and smart." I only wished for them to lie to me, but in the end I decided that I must become an idiot to succeed in this world of foreign loveliness. I looked up the word "intelligent" in the dictionary. "Revealing or reflecting good judgement or sound thought," it said. So I came to the conclusion that I'd downgrade my common sense, as I had done so many times before, and after only three months of shame for the knife scars decorating my legs and arms, my frame of mind switched on me again. I fell back in love with the tissue that gleamed a heavenly white when the light touched it with an angelic hand. I cherished those slivers of past misery drained out. My fingers often grazed over my skin, feeling the unevenness of flesh to memory. Apathy to depression. That was beauty, beauty I had in abundance. Each thread of discoloration was another speck of magnificence, increasing my odds of admittance into the world of grandeur. If nothing else, these scars were my companions. They were faithful, loving, and I'd surround myself with them.
I noticed one night that this had become an addiction. I sat on the floor of my bedroom late at night. The wind was howling outside so I opened my window wide and lit the red candle, setting it on top of The Rainbow (Lawrence would understand). I crossed my legs and bent over the flame, teasing it with the point of the scissors. I pressed it against my skin, below a popped blister. It was warm. I needed scorching. The blade went incessantly from the flame to same black smudge at home on the soft, hungry skin of my forearm. When I had thought five minutes had passed, it had really been twenty. When I thought I should finally sleep, the night was turning grey; transforming into dawn as my uncomely plainness transformed into charm. I had lost one, maybe two, layers of skin and it burned contention into every fiber of my being as I curled up in the sunrise, finally ready to face a new day. And in my last waking moments I knew they were wrong. I knew that with a simple flame and blade I, too, could become beautiful.
I awoke hours later, dragging myself from the pillow, motivated only by the thought of washing soot off my arm to reveal something doubtlessly splendid. I dressed, making sure not to look at my arm and ruin the surprise. Once in the bathroom, I shut the door tight and ran cold water over my skin, rubbing at the blackness with my fingertips and finally turning off the faucet and drying my arm. Excitement shot through me like lightning and I moved my limb from under the towel. The lightning inside pierced my heart instead as my eyes took in nothing but a red dot. No blisters, no scorched wounds, only a wisher like me. Wishing to be something it's not; something even more amazing than what I had seen before, wishing to please my eye and I longed to please the eye of any passer-by. I ran my fingers over it in pure disbelief. How can this be? There is no sensitive, invisible wound. All skin is still intact. All night, I mutter. All night and I'm repaid with nothing. Tears swell up in my eyes and I know that it's all so useless. Later I will walk out into the public streets and buildings and I will feel their eyes on me and I will burn with a desire to tell them all that I'm sorry. That I tried. I will hang my head low and walk quickly, trying so hard to get far out of sight. I will never forgive myself for being ugly today.

[26 May 2003|03:29am]

I just finished reading 30 Days of Night by Steve Niles and Ben Templesmith. It was.. amazing. Even better than what you've heard. All you comic fans should go out and buy it.
2 Opinions\\ Hmm?

[ viewing | most recent entries ]
[ go | earlier ]