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  6 To quickly recap: its January second nineteen-ninety-nine. Supposedly it is a pivotal year because; it·s the end of the century. We shall see. I sit alone in my downtown apartment, cold, hungry, annoyed with the general sleepiness of my town. With another year under my belt I contemplate time, age, and just what will become of me when all my sins catch up to me. You see I have been a very bad boy in 1998. Hell, I·ve been bad my whole life. Yet aside from a few random assurances I can·t remember ever feeling much remorse. I have no clear recollection of how it started. Do in part to mental blocks that I·ve put up, and the alcohol I·ve consumed. I assume it began as most things in my current life, with the moment I chose never to be like those who were over me. To never walk the path they walked. And worsened as I realized I had no choice in the matter. Though, I have managed to walk the path backwards, sideways, and even upside down. Every chance I get to stray away from it, I always seem to be pulled back some way or another. I cannot seem to completely separate myself from the past. I have, however, managed to except this and merely build upon its foundation. It is here where I run into the most trouble. For you see my own vices tend to trap me up at times. My drinking and my off center approach at immortality, have all lead to problems with attaining my ultimate goal which is not to become like those I so hated growing up. My Grandmother, as she is, is fond of reminding me that I am not yet grown. I wonder often if she is right. Maybe it is my impetuousness and fast living that has made me blind to the fact that time is indeed not on my side. Throughout this past year if not the last several years, I have made it a point to conceive of philosophies, spout grand prophecies and fall short in delivering the goods. My lust has always deterred me from my destiny, my insatiable lust for wine, women, and a good time. I have drank myself into a stupor, fucked myself into oblivion, and party like there·s no tomorrow. The Gods themselves have reached down from the heavens to throw me in the right direction, and time and time again I have forsaken them for fun. When will I learn that the road to legend is no paved with good times?

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 That leaves me, trying to start a conflict. And wondering what happened to that idealistic young teenager who once believed so strongly in everything he said, and did! What happened to the boy who didnࣛt think he was the future, but knew it. You see now as twenty-one I just keep trying to relive. The dream is gone, but the baby is real. Could have done a goodࣧ So where am I now? Sitting on my couch in a ࣞwife-beaterࣟ and boxer shorts, watching pornoࣛs, listing to ICP and reading comic books. 21 years and this is as far as Iࣛve gotten? Iࣛm losing hope. I realize that all reality is perception, that all truth is relative, that laughter is the only salvation from misery and that life is eternal. Iࣛve peered into the universe only to be scared motionless. My mind races with color and knowledge. So much so I canࣛt even function properly. How does all this help me I donࣛt know any more now than I did at fifteen? I still have no real solid direction. And even worse Iࣛve lost all compassion and sympathy. My entire range of emotions is merely false mockeries of actions Iࣛve seen on television. It seems as if everything that I thought made me myself, was nothing more than my subconscious aping things that I saw growing up, making me 100% product of my environment. What do you think that does to me? I have all these mother-fuckers round me saying how free I am, how original, how they envy me! Why? Why? Iࣛm not even real. Itࣛs July now-nineteen hundred and ninety-nine. I am alone. I do not try to lay the blame on anyone or anything. It is my own doing. Life has not been good for some time. I didnࣛt cope too well with age or time itself for that matter. My pursuit of a good time, has lead me down dark path after dark path. My lust for life has alienated me. I am an asshole. My fear and subsequent paranoia has left me bitter and alone. My perception of people and their actions has left me a marked man. More than that, I just canࣛt shut up. I see everyoneࣛs faults. The way a man stands, the way a woman talks the way we all interact. I know they just want to get fucked. They all want to be normal. They all want someone to love them, pay attention to them. I think itࣛs funny. I tell them. I point it out and mock it. I exacerbate it and they resent me. Some see the humor, some see I want the same thing, and most just hate me. Most donࣛt have the patience to wade through the bullshit to see people (and me) for the souls they are. Most people are pussies. Weak jelly fish, who will not survive what I can see ahead, the Dark days, the coming Storm. Funky weather and high crime rates are only the start. We draw closer to the final conflict. It is not some mystical/mythical Armageddon I speak of, but mans own negative energies reaching a breaking point. Manࣛs insecurities, his fears, and his greed, each consuming him to the point beyond redemption. It comes, my friends. And then Iࣛll be happy. Until that day comes though, Iࣛll be on the fence. Hiding in plain sight my true face, to please you all, to no end. My greed overwhelms both you and me. And there is

nothing I can say or do will ever change the outcome. I could say it all and you still not know where Iࣛm coming from. After two years of contemplation what have I found out? That I am a villain? By whose definition am I? That Iࣛm greedy, lustful, conniving, dishonest, hypocritical, and vain!?! Perhaps, or perhaps because I make mistakes, I am sometimes thoughtless and selfish and I make poor judgments/prejudgments. Or does this all simply make me human. Something I have strived so hard not to be for as long as I can recall. Something Iࣛve lied about being, pretended not to be, created elaborate fantasies not to become. I am my fatherࣛs child. And sadly there is no escaping it. Does this make me a villain? What does? Is there truly no right and wrong?2 I know now that too much time has been wasted (along with my mind) on how I came to be. Maybe itࣛs my own fault, maybe Iࣛm a product of my own environment, and perhaps Iࣛm warped by television? Who knows? Better yet-who cares?

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 In my life I have been fortunate enough to meet many insane people with immense charisma. People who throughout their lives have dreamed of being kings, rulers, despots, terrorist, revolutionaries or saviors I have been fortunate enough to have dreamed of being all these things and more! As I grew older, I learned that these were not separate dreams-but one. Time clarified that, and thus I began to fortunate how to make this vision (as I called it) a reality. In doing so I would have to manipulate the public·s perception of me, as one of them. Now I quickly accomplished that on a small scale. But that was merely the first step. The second was to develop a philosophy that would last for over two-thousand years. That·s where I ran into my first problem. I slowly built a personal philosophy, and slowly alienated certain groups I had acquired acceptance by. There were holes in my plan, holes that I alone, could not repair. So I gathered friends who I thought would help see my vision through. And they more than likely would have, had not self-doubt and delusion stepped in to help see me down. It just wasn·t my time. I sought to join the world in Chaos. But I failed every test set before me. I had always done well on test in school. It was homework that I wouldn·t do. And it would seem that·s where my second mistake was made. You see my philosophy took from the ´big threeµ; Anarchy, Chaos, and Nihilism with the politics of the first, the spirituality of the second and, the attitude of the latter. To truly make this stick though, I needed more, I had neither seen, nor read enough to make it sufficient3. So this is where my friends came in. I thought with the right marketing I could cover the holes long enough for me to fill them. Little did I realize that friends often drag you down worse than enemies and seeing as how I was my own worst enemy that immediately back fired? So there I found myself, twenty-one years of age, barely a man, barely able to walk, having served in two invisible wars and unable to handle my bowels. Time floats by wafting in the air like cigarette smoke. I lay there with a girl who was not a girl discussing personal politics and my own health issues. I felt congressional. I felt responsible. I had spent far too long dwelling on what got me here, when I knew all along. Now was time to put things right move forward Maybe I should visit my mother·s grave. 5

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It·s Saturday (Saturn·s day), I sit alone in my empty apartment. Staring into my filthy carpet, waiting for a woman to come and fix my hair. I have been trying to write this down for two weeks. It has been nearly one year 5 since I last wrote in this journal. Summer is about to return and I feel the heat through the gray clouds which darken the afternoon sky. I hear the birds and the children playing. The phone rings again. It really hasn·t stopped since I got it. I hear Afghan Whigs on the stereo popping and crackling as the record spins. I have to write fast now-company·s coming. The last eight months have been a whirl wind of egomania, popularity ascension, misguided love affairs and paranoia. I probably didn·t spell that right but no turning back now. It all began with the arrival of my mentor and subsequent father figure Jeff Joyce. He arrived from Puerto Rico and immediately climbed into my window 6 . For a month we partied, insulted, and I drank our way through both of our bank accounts and several dozen titty-bars. Over $900 was spent reminding this town we were its kings and reminding ourselves why we couldn·t stay. His visit prompted me to spend the summer in contemplation and Anarchy. I broke laws and sacrificed virgins. Fucked whores and got arrested. By fall I had and STD 7 and a house arrest waiting. I made some wrong turns and got his message confused. But all was not lost. The STD was cured and the house arrest brought me a flock of eternal followers. The children came to me by the dozen and listened intensely as I drank and sang and danced, ate glass and bottle caps recalling the old days when we who came before them were young and out of control 8 . Climbing roof tops and eating acid running around this small ¶burg in search of ourselves and a good time. We dominated the then and we laminate the now. Our joints stiff from our adventures and our minds left scared from the drugs. My odyssey started when I realized that my eternal quest may have been flawed by those I chose to surround myself with and the lovers I chose to take. So I tried to change that. I broadened my spectrum of partners (both in crimes and in bed). Now it·s been nearly a year, and I sit alone sipping beer listening to Tom Waits, reflecting on my recent transgressions. I know a little more now.

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Whatࣛs left, what else is there to do? Create albums on the Play Station? Give way to a new generation of digirati-technocrats. Everyone is scrambling for their piece of the pie, reaching and grabbingࣧ

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What is life worth if not for sin? Life is valuable, but how would we know if not for sin? Whether you like it or not everything has value. Be it a price tag or a paycheck everything in life has meaning. To separate the meaning would make things unvaluable. To show respect for life you must first make it valuable. How does one make one·s life valuable? Good question! The answer is Sin. Think about it; something as priceless as life should not be measures and valued on; money, possessions, property, wealth, or even health. A valuable life can only be measures by something cosmic, something bigger than man made things. The price of life is valued on the wages of sin. It is sin that shoes us why life is worth living right? Sin is the measure of life. If you are not willing to risk sinning something then it simply isn·t worth it so the question then becomes what is life without sin? The answer is simple; Life is naught for sin!

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