|
1288
name - fredrico
email -
4/2/2005 2:14:18 PM
comment -
I would love to see a forklift lift a crate of forks
___________________________
1287
name - amber the incredible.
email -
4/2/2005 11:23:20 AM
comment -
today is a good day and i am ok. therapist says they might even let me out to play. ambers been a good girl.
topics being thrown around
adult a.d.d.
iq tests
medication
toxic environments
___________________________
1286
name - ak
email -
4/1/2005 11:27:32 PM
comment -
this is cody webkur level shit. you know that don't you....
___________________________
1285
name - ak
email -
4/1/2005 5:15:12 PM
comment -
james says: i love you and want to make love to you, i want to eat you like we eat jesus on sundays and have your spirit fill me.
amber says: i want you to go into therapy....i'll race you to the finish line.
___________________________
1284
name - s
email -
4/1/2005 6:22:15 AM
comment -
i am working too hard.
___________________________
1283
name - ak
email -
3/31/2005 9:51:37 PM
comment -
where did you move too nigga?
___________________________
1282
name - ak
email -
3/31/2005 9:46:26 PM
comment -
burned my ass in the tanning bed. now it hurts to sit, poop, drive, and all the other various things we do with our asses....in my case that would be shaving.
___________________________
1281
name - ak
email -
3/31/2005 9:09:50 PM
comment -
call me.
___________________________
1280
name - great music
email -
3/31/2005 5:14:52 PM
comment -
Gold teeth and a curse for this town were all in my mouth.
Only, i don't know how they got out, dear.
Turn me back into the pet that i was when we met.
I was happier then with no mind-set.
And if you'd 'a took to me like
A gull takes to the wind.
Well, i'd 'a jumped from my tree
And i'd a danced like the king of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well.
New slang when you notice the stripes, the dirt in your fries.
Hope it's right when you die, old and bony.
Dawn breaks like a bull through the hall,
Never should have called
But my head's to the wall and i'm lonely.
And if you'd 'a took to me like
A gull takes to the wind.
Well, i'd 'a jumped from my tree
And i'd a danced like the kind of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well.
God speed all the bakers at dawn may they all cut their thumbs,
And bleed into their buns 'till they melt away.
I'm looking in on the good life i might be doomed never to find.
Without a trust or flaming fields am i too dumb to refine?
And if you'd 'a took to me like
Well i'd a danced like the queen of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well.
___________________________
1279
name - ak
email -
3/31/2005 2:23:04 PM
comment -
does it make you wet?
___________________________
1278
name - chris
email -
3/31/2005 1:31:21 PM
comment -
nothing gets me worked up more to go hang out with someone than them calling me 'chrissy'
___________________________
1277
name - ak
email -
3/31/2005 12:48:13 PM
comment -
hey, i enjoyed that story bitches. i was trying to get chrissy and james worked up to come down here and hang out. i should have just wrote there are lots of girl with big boobs in newport.
boobs.
___________________________
1276
name -
email -
3/30/2005 5:38:08 PM
comment -
nice story, but the word "dreamy"
___________________________
1275
name - jc
email -
3/30/2005 4:38:13 PM
comment -
I smell a dreamy smell after shitting. Even at 5 am, in the summer. It's only a short walk to the crapper, no shortcuts. Cold porcelein sometimes makes me clench. Short turds that splash cold water up make me clench tighter.
Tighter...
___________________________
1274
name - chris
email -
3/30/2005 2:08:37 PM
comment -
get that shit off my guestbook...
___________________________
1273
name - ak...hometown niggas
email -
3/29/2005 11:46:05 PM
comment -
Surfing's Serenity
Newport offers dreamy surf conditions
BY BEN FOGELSON
I sleep a dreamy sleep after surfing.
Out the front door, my breath fogs at 5 in the morning, even in summer. Dew beads up on the blue porch steps, on the greenness in the lawn, down the windows of my red, two-door Volvo. I lay a Therma-Rest on the car's roof, then my board. I open both doors, throw cam-straps over the white, 9-foot slab of shaped fiberglass, pull the straps tight underneath, inside the car.
A poor-man's surf-rack.
I listen to reggae, mostly. The shortcut to Newport is a left off Hwy. 99 about 10 miles north of Monroe; I emerge from country fields at Philomath, bypassing Corvallis. One more album of weeping and wailing, and as my old car bests the final rise above Newport, I get my first view of the ocean.
There she lays, blue and vast in sunlight cresting coastal hills. I scan yellow flags on car lot poles when I turn onto Hwy. 101. The flags hang motionless, and I visualize the period between waves, the time betwixt surfing, as placid, calm, a sheet of frigid, blue-green iron.
Isn't it cold?
I park at the beach, set a new record for man-into-wetsuit. Thick booties, still damp from a week ago. Suit zips up the back, and gloves Velcro around the wrist. Last five minutes in the car I blasted the heater.
It's 7 o'clock. The beach is long and deserted. I paddle on my stomach along a rocky cliffside. The first trickle of cold water slips down my nape, busily warms itself under a blanket of neoprene near the hollow of my back.
I sit, alone, offshore, methodically rising and falling with the rhythm of incoming swells. The coastline stretches to infinity. Gulls flap wings on a windless morning.
No politics.
A clean, smooth sheet of water banks up between me and the horizon, draws closer, steepens, and on my stomach I paddle for a rendezvous.
As the wave nears, a black seal bursts from somewhere within it, then slides down the oncoming peak, a true surfer. It looks up and our eyes meet, then it pulls back, with little effort, into the heart of the wave.
A sign.
I paddle like a motherfucker, try to pop up without touching my knee to the board.
Standing up, it's as if the world has fallen behind. I'm only on the wave, hurtling forward by a seemingly simple, yet stunningly complex convergence of gravity, wind and will.
What divine timing has brought me to these crossroads?
I accelerate, climbing higher on the steep surface. It's as if my mind and eyes are full of sparkling crystals, and in one instant it's completely clear to me why I've come.
The reason is as complex as a wave itself.
I turn, leaving the swell, which is all breaking now. I can't supress a smile as I fall back down toward my board, floating on the water, resting on the earth. So passes a moment of connectivity. I reach out and catch myself on the fiberglass. It's soft as a pillow …
And then I wake.
The coffee kettle whistles about as fast as a kettle can. I fill up a Mason jar with the dark liquid, then step out onto the porch. My breath fogs at 5 in the morning, even in summer. A friend pulls up in a beige Subaru, board already strapped down. Dew is beaded up on the blue porch steps.
___________________________
1272
name - ak
email -
3/29/2005 11:27:30 PM
comment -
hey thats funny...my internet was gone but now is back. weird.
___________________________
1271
name - s
email -
3/29/2005 6:50:39 PM
comment -
ok, my internet is hooked back up.
___________________________
1270
name - jc
email -
3/28/2005 4:54:22 AM
comment -
I saw Hootie the other day on TV wearing a cowboy hat and singing a commercial jingle. He only wants to be with yooooooouuuu.....
___________________________
1269
name - chris
email -
3/27/2005 5:57:39 PM
comment -
i have officially left any universe that has anything to do with cool. my favorite album right now is a hootie & the blowfish album.
___________________________
1268
name - a
email -
3/27/2005 2:11:01 PM
comment -
amen from the man who's whole life is an internet monologue.
___________________________
1267
name -
email -
3/27/2005 11:35:18 AM
comment -
Amen Chris
___________________________
1266
name - ak
email -
3/26/2005 10:13:23 PM
comment -
is this the beginning of part two??
___________________________
1265
name - chris
email -
3/26/2005 5:40:56 PM
comment -
you ever notice the people who have been through hell and back in their life usually don't think it's that big a deal?
and yet for every one of them, there are two other people who haven't been through shit and want nothing more than to tell you how rough they've had it their whole life.
___________________________
1264
name - ak
email -
3/26/2005 11:43:19 AM
comment -
chance made us cousins,
but hearts made us lovers.
___________________________
|