acheron

1) Well, from what I can see, you're a pretty girl. Obviously the picture ends at your neck so you could be anywhere from 4'11" to 6'5" and weigh from 90 lbs. to 250 lbs. and have somewhere between size AAA and DDD breasts. Extrapolating from what I can see, however, you're cute.

2) Very pouncable.

3) 8.9 on the face and an incomplete from the neck down.

4) Most attractive features: Great cheekbones; pretty eyes; really fucking smart and perceptive. Least attractive features: Missing body and a slight tendency to over-dramatize things. As to your personality, I think it rocks (at least on paper). I like a girl with a little sarcasm in her blood who's also not afraid to fuck with conventions. You're a cool gurl.

Now stop obsessing...will ya!?!

When I visited my now deceased grandparents in Santa Fe last April I made a point of driving the two hours out of my way to see the famed PANCAKE MISSION. It sounded like just another stupid roadside attraction, like "World's Biggest Suitcase" or "Ronald Reagan's Childhood Home", but something was drawing me to it; and I'm so glad I listened to that inner voice, for the PANCAKE MISSION was a truly fascinating, almost mystical experience. I'm not a Christian myself, but for many years I've been an aficionado of Christian architecture, from the most elaborate cathedrals down to the most simple missions; and it was thoroughly delightful to discover that the PANCAKE MISSION is not only a striking, far-from-simple hyperbole of late 19th Century mission architecture, but unlike so many missions from its time or any other, it was erected with such an imperishable and undeniable sense of the ridiculous. For whereas I was expecting a mission that was historically known for serving pancakes to its target souls-to-be-saved, or perhaps even a shameless faux-historical-cum-capitalist venture e.g. an I-HOP located within the mission, the PANCAKE MISSION exceeded all my expectations by being nothing less than exactly what it purports to be: a mission built out of pancakes. I will confess that upon the moment of first realizing this intentional intersection of the divine and the absurd, I felt the desperate desire, more than at any time before then or since, to kill every human being in my immediate vicinity. Fortunately this bloodlust only lasted a mere second and was followed by what can only be called a revelation - for in that one second I believed in God, Jesus Christ, angels and devils, the whole bit - and determined to grab my ankles and give it up for the Holy Roman Church. Again, fortunately, this revelation only lasted a few seconds, and it was followed by a violent outburst of vomitting that lasted on and off for the next several minutes.* After regaining some semblance of composure, I sped away south to meet my grandparents for dinner at The Sizzler**. I was the same man, but not the same; the PANCAKE MISSION shrinking in my rearview mirror, I cried a single solitary tear for the life I'd led before, and swore to myself that I would quit my job as a stockbroker and follow my dream to become a beekeeper, or, by Jove, perish in the trying.

* Though not aware of it at the time I have since realized that the three stages described herein bear a striking resemblance to the stages detailed in Carlos Castaneda's first experience with Lophophora williamsii in The Teachings of Don Juan.
** The Sizzler, 2501 Delgado St., Santa Fe.

[Edited on Sep 26, 2003]

I like boysenberry syrup on my pancakes. Yum.

Apathy is the new activism. I would write more but I can't be bothered at the moment.

hmmm...oops
I didn't read your "into" section well enough, I guess.

I feel I absolutely must have some sort of conversation with you......and soon, because your discussion of your studies and your new translation project are intriguing the hell out of me!

I'm going to take this offline now...........................
[end transmission]

Shame that, I did like your last ramblings. So no sex eh, bit drastic that!

I do now look forward to reading your journals, I love the educational standard and informative type. May have to correct your grammar, but apart from that, not a problem.

All this and lovely with it x

i would love to read whatever it is

Talk dirty to me baby!!!!!!!

I look forward to your journal entries.
Your just as wacked as me.
You were meant to write.
Write Acheron
Write
Write like the wind!

oh, OK

I am Luke.

I am dilligan's faaaaather....

I just thought I'd raise my hand and say that I recognized the Cardigans song. And I just upped my dosage of meds too and have been loopy for a couple of days. And now I'm done rambling.

da. it is impressive that you hammered out three journals in one day. i read all of them and wish that the second and third were reversed for some reason. so that i could comment on the second. probably because... oh nevermind. it's just i'm sure we'd all be better off blind. really. like that village in the h.g. wells story. i am of the belief that ocular sensation is less a blessing than it is a curse. it is a hallucination. a huge fucking mirage. would sex hoodwinked not be as good? i think it is better. but i am me. q e d.
oui. j'habite a portland. mais non. je n'attends pas l'uni reed. incidentally... "so i was boohooing and feeling old..." i know it's relative but really, if you are really nineteen, you are really not old. indeed you still have your terrible twenties ahead of you. the twenties are the "i am hot shit" decade for those within it and the "head up the ass" decade for those outside it. i am myself only a half year out of my twenties but to them i say with all due respect, good riddance, you dizzy dizzy decade.

Ahhhh....the drama! Sweetie you are more fun to follow along with than All My Children!