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Below are the 10 most recent journal entries recorded in My Myspace Romance's LiveJournal:

Wednesday, March 22nd, 2006
11:24 pm
i hate livejournal
live journal sucks.
live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks.live journal sucks. amen.
Sunday, March 20th, 2005
3:27 pm
Waffleman MAGAzine
This entry is for anyone who cares.
Nobody really reads LiveJournal anyway (at least MINE).
My friends, I have been through plenty; so much shit that it should make me break down and cry. I'm not a hero...Heroes don't get weak in their knees and feel like throwing up and forgetting about what they've set out to do when the going gets impossible. I need reassurance. Am I doing the right thing? Or am I just letting myself down by pushing myself to impossible extremes. Am I a writer; or am I a poor excuse for a human being...a scrap in the waste basket of what was once a life I had complete control over.
This particular entry regards WAFFLEMAN magaZINE issue number 2, much anticipated; and much delayed. The truth is, I've been seriously considering what I want the next issue to be. There have been people who have tried -with all the determination left in their sad suburban lives- to make Waffleman go away. He has become a symbol of abstract evil in surrounding suburban neighborhoods and is now lying dormant on the snowy hills of my imagination.
Problems arose with the planning process; and with my own personal devotion to the project. Coincidentally, the follow-up issue of Waffleman Magazine was put on hiatus.
For anyone who is in the dark as to why this happened, I will provide a brief -yet informative- explanation. The main reason was a serious lack of progress in a pre-planned agenda; and since I AM the current staff of the magazine, there is no one left to blame. I have proven to myself that I can be self-sufficient; and when I am, I am dangerous and offensive to some people who not only do not appreciate who I am; but do not appreciate the finer things in our-so-called life. What hurts more is I would still die for you.
The failed agenda, for those of you who haven't kept up to date on the wonder that is the thought-process, was to feature an interview with Adult Film Actress: Gauge. I remain confident that this is still possible if I work a bit harder for it, but at the time, I am deliciously pessimistic. This interview was to be the featured article; as the interview with Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes was in the first issue. That interview; however, wasn't exactly planned for, it simply happened under my nose before I could control it; like a vicious dog and a blissfully ignorant child.
Let's fuck it up, boys, make some noise. I've moved past the idea of the interview, although I haven't completely dismissed it yet. I'm in the market for something interesting...My next idea, which I didn't share with anyone in particular, was for the next issue of Waffleman to be mainly a journal of activity in the making of "INSPECTOR MOUSTACHE: the movie"; which is currently growing more and more impossible by the hour, since that's not the kind of project I can take on completely on my own; and that's what it's turning into, despite a wonderfully accepting group of volunteer actors. I remain somewhat optimistic that this particular project will get off the ground soon; in one form or another.
Ah, and that brings us to our current complications, I believe. That was that, and this is this. Waffleman magazine was premiered at the Plymouth Meeting Mall comic store: Legends. Unbeknownst to the parents in the surrounding Plymouth Meeting area; the rest of the issues were given to Spaceboy Records on South Street where they quickly, and surprisingly sold out. Spaceboy has been incredibly generous; and will continue to be one of the main distributers of this periodical. As far as anyone can tell; this is far from a complication. The problems arose in the location that everyone KNEW about; and this was Plymouth Meeting Mall. Apparently, someone's bulldyke mother decided to steal the remaining few issues of a project that I slaved over and PAID for, in order to protect the eyes and minds of the children she has come to play caretaker for.
The next problem arrises from the fact that a particular cartoon displayed in the first issue made a little girl cry; so sad. I almost feel bad for the misunderstanding, but it had to be done. Few things are ever certain in this world; but when it comes to bringing someone who is pretentious down a couple notches, there is little time or reason for deliberation. The only problem with this little mishap was that a few months later, something happened that made my brain snap into action; and equal, but opposite re-action.
I was harassed by a police officer; and not just any police officer; a Blue Balls Department Pig. It wasn't until after he'd left a message on my machine that I found out who this swine was working for; yes, ladies and gentlemen, the little girl who got all teary-eyed when she read that innocent comic strip in Waffleman Magazine. Her mother decided to send herself on a wild-goose chase and invade the personal privacy of each one of the young lady's friends in search of a copy of this dreaded first issue of WAFFLEMAN MAGAzine. She should have come straight to me. I've got plenty.
It wasn't until later that evening that I found out what she really needed to do me in; or at least, what she settled for. The bitch printed out copies of my LiveJournal (yes! this one! the one you're reading RIGHT NOW!) and handed it over to the Blue Balls Police. This young man is harassing our daughter. The dirty fucker must pay for this serious crime! How dare he! It is your duty as officers of the law, and social babysitters to do something about it! Scare some inspiration into the boy. Make him paint white picket fences. That'll teach him.
Apparently I've said some choice things about the young woman who is a continual living insult to my intelligence; and the crooked pig thought he could do the same. Officer, lock me up. Throw away the key, sir. I've been a bad boy; a naughty naughty boy. Would you kids like to know the word that I was accosted for using to describe the lovely young lady?
cunt ( P ) (knt)
n. Vulgar Slang
The female genital organs.
Sexual intercourse with a woman.

Offensive. Used as a disparaging term for a woman.
Used as a disparaging term for a person one dislikes or finds extremely disagreeable.

Oh yes, I am a terrible terrible young man. If I were writing this all out behind a locked prison cage, boys and girls, I would be considerably worse for it. God as my witness; I checked a Thesaurus! Honestly, I really did. There are no alternatives for CUNT. A simple four letter word with no alternative? My sweet and gentle Moses, that must be quite a word; quite a powerful word to describe somebody who is merely disagreeable. This person must be a real...well...cunt.
You'll notice of course that my memory is a bit hazy; and I am adverse to using any names. I figure that I'm at least a bit safer from inane and arbitrary threats from pseudo-law enforcement if I can only refrain from calling any particular person a cunt; and perhaps just refer to someone, nameless and faceless, as a cunt. There's that dreaded word again! Throw me to the tiger cage! The shackles don't hurt, Charlie, I promise, I can take it!
On the brighter side, or at least the lesser of two variably bleak and dark sides, I have gained a newfound interest in writing, as you can tell from this lengthy and perhaps less one-dimensional Journal Entry; but, like ginny, that means nothing. If anything, it would provide a light to a seemingly endless tunnel...a tunnel that stretched far past the realm of apathy and into the violent path of socio-political leprosy; and I am all the better for it.
My current path is unclear, but it's happening, at roughly an estimated page-a-day rate; and soon -I can only hope- it will take shape without destroying me like Frankenstein's monster. This will be the next issue of Waffleman magaZINE. Deliciously evil and autobiographical in its own right. Time will tell as to just how violent and absurd my little story becomes, but I hope it will at least be enjoyable...and then comes the most mouth-watering bit...I plan on opening up the story to a new angle...If anyone will sink their tender open mouths into my lonesome, yet somehow appetizing, hook.

If anyone is interested, I am looking for Illustrators for a story-in-progress.
If anyone is further-interested, I may be looking for Authors to take aspects of my story-in-progress in their own little directions.

Jesus Tapdancing Christ, look at the time! Quarter after 5 pm! I've been writing for hours now and only just got to the visceral conclusion of my tragic tale and silent plea.
I expect that this entry will be up for quite awhile before I post an update, so for those of you who haven't yet picked up a copy of WAFFLEMAN MagaZine: Issue 1, there will be more in Spaceboy Records sometime very very very soon...

In the meantime, enjoy these links to some of the pages (or pages cut out) from the first issue.

WARNING: as if i really need to say this...the following links are for those of us mature enough to view them. There is nothing pornographic about the links below, and nothing that should be too offensive, considering what we've just been through in the paragraphs above. If you're not old enough, mature enough, or smart enough to be able to handle it and not call the POLICE (I used to think that parents had more maturity and common sense than their children, but I'd imagine they have to learn from someone)... DON'T click them. If any of the above is aplicable to you, you should go promptly and violently fuck yourself. I can't imagine how your Net-Nanny or other Parental Controled Internet Blocker let you into MY LiveJournal...Simple as that. Understood?
That being said; go crazy. Print them out, share them with friends, do whatever you want. Just realize that they ARE copywritten and have already been printed and published in January 2005 by All-Star Coffee/Chasing Enid Publishing. *ta-da*
(COVER) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/chasingenid/hood.jpg
(Ian's Page) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/chasingenid/ian.jpg
(Another Cover Page) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/chasingenid/fuckinitup.jpg
(Menstruation) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/chasingenid/menstruation.jpg
(A Moment With Lil Jon) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/chasingenid/amomentwithliljon.jpg
(Waffleman Is...) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/chasingenid/ebdf8765.jpg
(Page 2) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/chasingenid/5e598afd.jpg
(Page 3) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/chasingenid/ce5164fd.jpg
(Page 4) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/chasingenid/51356e55.jpg
(Page 5) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/chasingenid/779f2b29.jpg
(Page 6) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/chasingenid/525712d5.jpg
(Page 7) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/chasingenid/7ec93ff9.jpg
(Page 8) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/chasingenid/wafflemanis.jpg
(Page 9) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/chasingenid/5da8c41b.jpg
(Page 10) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/chasingenid/a105b236.jpg
(Page 11) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/chasingenid/5f14d35a.jpg
(One of the Greatest Pictures in the World, Arranged By Ian Gallagher) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/chasingenid/awesome.jpg

Coming Soon: Waffleman MAGAzine: Issue 2
COOKING WITH SNUGGLE: Christmas Spook-Tac-Ular!

Current Mood: anxious
Friday, March 18th, 2005
5:06 am
One of those Ammendments that don't matter anymore...
Due to a conflict that I am not allowed to mention with a person whom I am not permitted to disclose the name of, I was threatened by a certain law official who my rights were officially fucked by.

Yes, I'm aware that there are laws pertaining to harassment and threatening letters sent over the internet; however, I did not threaten anyone. I did not harass anyone. Calling someone stupid on a PRIVATE internet journal has no legal bearing whatsoever.

I remember a time when people had the right to express their views and opinions freely in this country. When I threaten the life of a fellow citizen, then I will be held accountable. But as for using words like "silly, stupid, ignorant, and the dreaded 'cunt'"...I see no reason why I should be held liable.

As for anything else...I formally apologize for anyone I may have offended with my personal opinions. So either accept my apology, leave me alone in my privacy. I agreed not to talk about anyone in particular, regardless of the fact that my speech IS protected by MY Constitution.

If my speech is offensive, let LIVEJOURNAL kick my ass off; and not the swine who rolls and bathes in the same bullshit that he threatened my with.

"Choosing the right word is the difference between lightning and lightning bug." --Mark Twain

I believe my words appropriately distinguished my opinions and my thoughts. I stand by them.

Hunt me down, I will fight peacefully until my country's values are brought to their knees.



Current Mood: enraged
Wednesday, March 16th, 2005
12:51 am
Your Fuckface Lolita Complex Can feast on my Rectum, Kid!
Morality as an Aesthetic Choice
Humbert Humbert's attraction to Dolores Haze and other nymphets is not a moral choice on his part. It is an aesthetic choice. Until Dolores, Humbert had not yet acted on his pedophilia. His interest in young girls was aesthetic rather than strictly physical (which is not to say that it was completely divorced from his physical desires; it wasn't—it simply was not exclusively ruled by them), and is heavily influenced by what has been his only sexual encounter of an significance (that this is perhaps the result of a weak, or otherwise unusually aberrant psyche may be the subject of another essay, but is beyond the scope of this one). His explanation of his choice is worth quoting at length:

Now I wish to introduce the following idea. Between the age limits of nine and fourteen there occur maidens who, to certain bewitched travelers, twice or many times older than they, reveal their true nature which is not human, but nymphic (that is, demoniac); and these chosen creatures I propose to designate as "nymphets".

[...] the number of true nymphets is strikingly inferior to that of provisionally plain, or just nice, or "cute," or even "sweet" and "attractive," ordinary girls, plumpish, formless, cold-skinned, essentially human little girls, with tummies and pigtails, who may or may not turn into adults of great beauty (look at the ugly dumplings in black stockings and white hats that are metamorphosed into stunning scars of the screen). A normal man given a group photograph of school girls or Girl Scouts and asked to point out the comeliest one will not necessarily choose the nymphet among them. You have to be an artist and a madman, a creature of infinite melancholy, with a bubble of hot poison in your loins and a super-voluptuous flame permanently aglow in your subtle spine [...], in order to discern at once, by ineffable signs—the slightly feline outline of a cheekbone, the slenderness of a downy limb, and other indices which despair and shame and tears of tenderness forbid me to tabulate—the little deadly demon among the wholesome children; she stands unrecognized by them and unconscious herself of her fantastic power. (Nabokov, p. 16-17)

Note, also, that it is not all young girls (nor young people) whom he is attracted to. It is "nymphets" (Nabokov, p. 16), a specific sort of young girl whose "true nature [...] is not human" (Nabokov, p. 16). Humbert isn't even thinking of her as a "girl" per se, but rather as a manifestation of his particular aesthetic ideals. In fact, the only moral statement he makes at all is only an allusion ("despair and shame and tears of tenderness" (Nabokov p. 17)).

There are other ways that Nabokov distances Humbert from Dolores (and indeed, from all nymphets). He refers to nymphets as "maidens" (Nabokov p. 16), and to the men who are attracted to them as "bewitched travelers" (Nabokov p. 16). By bringing fairy-tale language into play, Humbert (read: Nabokov) is distancing himself from the reality of the fact that his attraction is socially unacceptable (Won't someone please think of the children!).

Of course now I've brought up the issue of what is and what is not accepted by society. For the contemporary reader of Lolita this should probably bring to mind issues of the commodification and fetishization of young girls in contemporary media (although with the exception the current Christina Aguilera video, called "Dirrty" or some such, and of course the hype surrounding the Jon-Benet Ramsey case, I can't think of any specific examples—the careful reader will realize that I have absolutely no evidence to back any of these observations up, except my own imperfect memory). This commodification is, quite frankly, beyond the scope of this essay, which was meant to be short, straightforward, and basically involve nothing but this one particular passage in Lolita. So maybe we'll talk about the other stuff in a later essay.

by: August C. Bourré

If you READ the fucking book, you would view it this way....but since ya DIDN'T, you're only seeing it as something else to say "EW" at...Christ on a Crutch...you know who this entry is for.

Current Mood: devious
Tuesday, March 15th, 2005
6:04 pm
Okay, Let's Try This Again...
There seems to be some dispute with my last entry, so I shall now revise, kay?


10. Ignorant Conservatives
09. Ignorant Liberals
08. Most Television Programming
07. Hypocrites (when it gets to the point that people are hurt/negatively affected)
06. Art school kids who think they're better than everyone else.
05. Anybody who thinks over-all that they're better than me.
04. The fine teachers at the Art Institute of Philadelphia who pretend to be intellectual and are really self-worshiping egomaniacal psuedo-authoritative, self righteous pricks.
03. High school jerks, prudes, assholes, dickheads, and those who fall into No. 5.
02. Kids who fuck with me/my Becca.
01. You.


05. My imagination.
04. Books.
03. My friend(s)...this means David Christopher Grow...*waves hand* and the rest.
02. My Rebecca Regina (Regina Rebecca) (Arienette Regina Rebecca) (Arienette Regina) (Arienette Rebecca) Egerter.... (BECCA LOU BECCA LOU LOU LOU LOU!!!)
01. A life with the previous five things/people in tact forever.


03. My next mistake
02. Sin City
01. Amen, for a perfect life.


01. The girl whose arms are tired from flying through my most intricate dreams...

Current Mood: creative
Monday, March 14th, 2005
6:47 pm
I would do anything...

10. Ignorant Conservatives
09. Ignorant Liberals
08. Most Television Programming
07. Hypocrites (when it gets to the point that people are hurt/negatively affected)
06. Art school kids who think they're better than everyone else.
05. Anybody who thinks over-all that they're better than me.
04. John Thornton
03. High school jerks, prudes, assholes, dickheads, and those who fall into No. 5.
02. Kids who fuck with me/my girl.
01. You.


05. My ridiculous imagination
04. My technical ability and knowledge (art/film/photography)
03. My friend(s)
02. My Girl.
01. You.


03. My next mistake
02. Sin City
01. Amen, for a perfect life.


01. The girl whose arms are tired from flying through my most intricate dreams...

Current Mood: blah
Wednesday, March 9th, 2005
2:21 pm
Sex is for Fags.
Your Ultimate Purity Score Is...
CategoryYour Score Average
When I think about you - or anyone - I touch myself
It takes a couple of drinks
Sex Drive 63.2%
A fool for love, but not always
Knows the other body type like a map
Gayness 91.1%
Repressed, are we?
Fucking Sick88.5%
Refreshingly normal
You are 60.87% pure
Average Score: 72.7%

Current Mood: lonely
Tuesday, March 8th, 2005
6:46 pm
I had a dream last night that literally made me wake up with a jolt.

I was in a Thrift Store or something and Britney Spears was in the cafe next door. It was raining, but warm outside. She walked over into the store and I knew I saw her but I wasn't sure. She started walking around and I began to follow her somewhat stealthily...Eventually I noticed that there were more people walking around rather awkwardly, rigid and almost like sleep-walking. Miss Spears exited the store and laid down on the sidewalk. I laid next to her and we began to talk...I'm not sure what we talked about. But who cares?

The other people began to crowd the streets; everyone I saw was sleepwalking with open eyes. Some of them were covered in dark red blood.
With that, Britney Spears was gone and I found myself in the middle of a zombie movie.

I spent the remainder of the dream trying to avoid these monsters...zombies are terrifying. Over and over again I heard in the back of my brain: THE DEAD ARE COMING TO LIFE AND EATING THE LIVING. THE PEOPLE THEY KILL GET UP AND KILL...--BY REMOVING THE HEAD OR DESTROYING THE BRAIN.

I found my way over a group of bodies and damaged cars. I sat atop an awning with a heavyset black fellow. Together, we began pushing off zombies that found their way up to our level. Below, laying sprawled out on the hood of a car was the body of George W. Bush.
Eventually, one of the zombies took a small bite out of the black fellow's hand just before he shoved him off the roof. The black man asked if I could suck the "venom" out of his finger so he didn't turn into the walking dead, and I did (even though I'm fairly sure zombies don't have venom)...Anyway...

The undead swarmed the roof and eventually one took a huge bite out of my black companion and I was forced to push him from the roof where he immediately died, and rose to his feet again...
Down below, George W. Bush opened his eyes and encouraged me to jump. Below and to the left was a series of levels with various logos on them: McDonalds, CNN, MTV, etc.
Bush told me to jump down on to them, where I could hide, and I would be safe, but I was afraid. He tried to loosen me up by saying "Just imagine me working at one of those companies!"
Imagining Mr. Bush behind the counter at McDonalds definitely helped, and I leapt safely onto the platform. There were scattered bushes on each logo'd platform that I could hide behind, but Mr. Bush was wrong and the zombies climbed the levels with relative ease. I was at the top level and hiding behind a large plant when the undead began to swarm around me.

I woke up with a jolt and there were zombies swarming my bed. I quickly sought shelter beneath my sheets, and that's when I woke up, tightly hiding under my bedsheets...

Any interpretations...or am I just really fucked up? Or both?!


Current Mood: anxious
Tuesday, August 31st, 2004
10:42 pm
Wednesday, March 31st, 2004
6:49 am
Thinking of You...

Current Mood: peaceful
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