chefofwords.blogspot.com
..::Chef::of::Words::..: The Year of the Flame
http://chefofwords.blogspot.com/2005/02/year-of-flame.html
Chef: of: Words: . Random writings transcribed to digital: . The Year of the Flame. The current of this life is flowing faster than I can move. My limbs are heavy and burning, my mouth and nose sting. With the caustic, gagging taste of brine or blood. I feel my shoulders dipping lower and. The waves crash with maddening impatience, pushing and pushing. The black water trying to expel me and engulf me at once. From my 60th storey ledge I can see my future. Noise, dirt, pain and smothering claustrophobia.
chefofwords.blogspot.com
..::Chef::of::Words::..: Thoughts of a Self-Made Insomniac
http://chefofwords.blogspot.com/2005/03/thoughts-of-self-made-insomniac.html
Chef: of: Words: . Random writings transcribed to digital: . Thoughts of a Self-Made Insomniac. What do you do when television stops lulling you to sleep? A new way to loose weight without diet, exercise or pills? It cuts an egg 57 different ways? And you can go water skiing with it? Posted by Justin at 3:28 AM. This Blog Best Viewed with Mozilla Firefox. Hillsboro, Oregon, United States. View my complete profile. Other Blogs by Me. Transmissions from the Satellite Heart. The Child He Made Me.
chefofwords.blogspot.com
..::Chef::of::Words::..: On the Street, In the River
http://chefofwords.blogspot.com/2005/02/on-street-in-river.html
Chef: of: Words: . Random writings transcribed to digital: . On the Street, In the River. Among the crossfire of walking traffic I watch our paths. Darting between, ducking around, flooding each other. We see a hundred faces a day, a hundred snowflakes, a hundred paintings. And we don't' make eye contact,. And we don't speak. On the street, in the river I feel a pulse. I hear a sustained tone like the fading of a church bell. Like the ringing in my ears. A brief touch and then it's gone. Other Blogs by Me.
puffmagic.blogspot.com
Transmissions from the Satellite Heart: March 20
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Transmissions from the Satellite Heart. Blog 55: Under the Table and Blogging. Saturday, March 26, 2005. Just finished watching U2's Elevation Tour DVD. That thing never gets old. And as I say every time I watch it: when Bono pulls that girl up on stage during With or Without You, I've never wanted to be a teenage girl so much in my life. Am I really that desperate? When do those man berries drop so that I can keep my fucking head under control when a girl smiles at me? Seems to be. Socially it seems...
chefofwords.blogspot.com
..::Chef::of::Words::..: Retaliation
http://chefofwords.blogspot.com/2005/02/retaliation.html
Chef: of: Words: . Random writings transcribed to digital: . Hot words like torches,. Spoken like darts, cutting ties that bind us. Releasing tension from you. By cutting you with paper. And poisoning you with ink. Feel the fever force of my hand. As it carves these last lines. Posted by Justin at 2:18 AM. This Blog Best Viewed with Mozilla Firefox. Hillsboro, Oregon, United States. View my complete profile. Other Blogs by Me. Transmissions from the Satellite Heart.
puffmagic.blogspot.com
Transmissions from the Satellite Heart: April 24
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Transmissions from the Satellite Heart. Blog 75: 20,000 Blogs Under the Sea. Friday, April 29, 2005. THINK OF THE CHILDREN! They've never heard the word fuck at school or on their parent-funded 50 Cent album, and god knows they'll never see another naked human body, but it's ok for them to know what a brutal murder looks like. In other news, it's Friday! And that doesn't mean shit to me! Cause I'm pulling a 54 hour week and I get to go to the mill for 9 hours tomorrow as if it were still NOT THE WEEKEND!
puffmagic.blogspot.com
Transmissions from the Satellite Heart: February 06
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Transmissions from the Satellite Heart. Blog 22: Sweet Blog Alabama. Friday, February 11, 2005. So I moved into the attic of my friend Terra's place and it's working out nicely for a single, unemployed guy with no real ties to anything. Wanna see it? Yeah ya do. Looksee! More blog to come at a later time, right now I have to go spend taxpayer money on pizza and sodas. Justin expelled a blog at 6:13 PM. 0 souls were saved. Blog 21: This Isn't Funny Anymore.Blog. Thursday, February 10, 2005. Or Just Read It.
chefofwords.blogspot.com
..::Chef::of::Words::..: Time Bombs
http://chefofwords.blogspot.com/2005/02/time-bombs.html
Chef: of: Words: . Random writings transcribed to digital: . What is your secret power over me? I am a punching bag. Why, although the blood still seeps from me. Do I reject the bandage of acceptance? Do I carry the seed of denial? Everything you feel is proof you still love her. Every hurt, every wrong can be blotted out by:. Three Moments of False Hope. I'll carry a snapshot of me at my most broken. To reference on that day I see you again. And want to dive into you familiarity. Good for brief romances,.
chefofwords.blogspot.com
..::Chef::of::Words::..: The Lovers Lost to the Mind
http://chefofwords.blogspot.com/2005/03/lovers-lost-to-mind.html
Chef: of: Words: . Random writings transcribed to digital: . The Lovers Lost to the Mind. The human mind is a funny thing. Not something I would consider hysterical or funny in that what's that funny smell? But what, you might ask, does this have to do with memory loss? I though of my disappearing memories as pieces of history being erased. Indeed, how would those events be preserved if there were no one left to remember them? And if so; Is it ok? Posted by Justin at 12:10 AM. View my complete profile.
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..::Chef::of::Words::..: Drinking on a Sunday
http://chefofwords.blogspot.com/2005/02/drinking-on-sunday.html
Chef: of: Words: . Random writings transcribed to digital: . Drinking on a Sunday. Some days it seems like I can see forever. Like I can really see the world rolling through space. And the sun sits still while I spin past it. On those days the air is warmer, the breeze smells sweet,. And from that wide angle, life looks longer than today. I see so far ahead that there are people I haven't met yet,. Places I haven't been, feelings waiting in the distance for me to catch up. It feels like there's a chance.