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Thursday, February 15th, 2007

Yes, it's that time of year when we skelebrate the epitome of pure evil, the anti-valentine, St. Skeletor.

St Skeletor's Day is a non-commercial alternative to the corporate whorefest that is St Valentine's Day. Each year, on February 15th, the festival of St. Skeletor occurs worldwide. The purposes are:-

* a) The destruction of 'lurrve'
* 2) The destruction of saucy greetings cards
* d) The destruction of people with boyfriends/girlfriends (particularly that paculiar subset of people who treat having a partner like having a pet unicorn)

Now, though I do fall into the latter category, I am also all about points a and 2. Also, I'm hateful and spiteful. These are the official purposes, but we* have taken the liberty of also applying a fourth clause, that being that you are to greet other people with an insult and then point out at least one of their shortcomings. "Hey jerkoff, you smell like a friggin' cabbage. Happy st. Skeletor's day!"

So everybody enjoy your friggin' st. skeletor's day. You're a bunch of arse wipes.

*the members of the board

current mood: I'M HATIN' IT

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Wednesday, January 31st, 2007
2:30 am - QUIZ TIME
Quiz!Collapse )

Her KissCollapse )

current mood: artistic

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Wednesday, November 1st, 2006
6:43 pm
In response to a recent libelous article directed at me, in which it was implied that I was a homosexual, and "gross", I have only this to say; Raluca likes poop. This is both factual, AS WELL AS provable. Evidence is available, as well as testimony from multiple witnesses.

Also, in defense of my rigid heterosexuality (though I am not anti-homosexual mind you- this being another fault of my opponent, her message of hate and oppression) I propose a contest. The rules of said contest are as follows:

Examples include:
-Eating a steak
-Automotive repair
-Driving a truck
-Eating more steak
-Shredding hard on an ax (guitar)
-Playing a contact sport
-Lifting Weights, or
-Clear, heterosexually driven involvement with The Ladies

Keep in mind that these are just examples. Both quality and quantity of the image/images will be considered. If you have any questions, respond to this post.
EMAIL ALL ENTRIES TO ME AT selfmadecritic (at) gmail (dot) com.

An lj-cut:

What You Really Think Of Your Friends

Raluca is your soulmate.
You truly love Ben.
You consider Ben your true friend.
You know that Raluca is always thinking of you.
You'll remember Jon for the rest of your life.
You secretly think Kare Bear! is creative, charming, and a bit too dramatic at times.
You secretly think that Jeff is colorful, impulsive, and a total risk taker.
You secretly think that Morgan is loyal and trustworthy to you. And that Morgan changes lovers faster than underwear.
You secretly think Dave is shy and nonconfrontational. And that Dave has a hidden internet romance.

current mood: SO MANY HOMEWORKS

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Friday, September 8th, 2006
12:16 am
It's been awhile. College, huh? So far, enjoyable. I like all my professors, and am actually interested in most of the curriculum, one in which I don't just regurgitate information, but actually learn and apply skills. Neat.
quizymajiggerCollapse )

Tonight didn't start out as good as I'd hoped, but I guess it ended ok. Sorry for being kind of a downer. It's embarrassing when I realize how stupid and self-centered I am sometimes.

current mood: embarrassed

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Friday, August 4th, 2006
1:47 am
In this, my last summer, our last summer, we have been leaving our mark on this town the only way we ever could - subtly, unnoticed but by ourselves. We have bought toys from ghosts, and for them, shifted our own feet and boxes of others, through glass, through the sand traps. I have pictures and notes and plans for an entire existence that most people have never seen, or considered. I feel like I'm yelling into a forest to shift the leaves, like we are changing nothing but what needs to be changed (though it is sometimes complicated by others' slight of hand, and by my own failure to consider consequence, or conspire to more conventional uses of time). This place will never know we changed it, we have left ourselves so faint, like the shadows of Hiroshima bomb victims. We know this town so thoroughly that we will always be attached to it, umbilically. Every summer I spend for the rest of my life will lead my mind to wander back to Waterford Michigan. And every Winter, Autumn, Spring.

I wish I could express this better.

current mood: contemplative

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Monday, July 31st, 2006
1:49 pm
Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

This is probably one of the most BA dudes that can be illustrated.
I really like working in black and white, it makes me focus a lot more on facial features, shading, etc. Soooo...24 days? I'm cool with that. Hopefully it doesn't end up being less than that. That would be teh sux. Well, mostly.
Read more...Collapse )

current mood: artistic

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Wednesday, July 12th, 2006
7:06 pm
(Click here to post your own answers for this meme.)

I miss somebody right now.  (a lot) I don't watch much TV these days.  (mostly movies. Does that count?) I own lots of books.  (I even read some.)
I wear glasses or contact lenses.  (when I can find them) I love to play video games.  (XY) × I've tried marijuana(despite Ara's many efforts)
I've watched porn movies.  (Mary Estes is my favorite) × I have been the psycho-ex in a past relationship. I believe honesty is usually the best policy.  (though sometimes I don't practice it...)
I curse sometimes.  (working on it) × I have changed a lot mentally over the last year. × I carry my knife/razor everywhere with me.
it goes on...Collapse )

current mood: RANDOM

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Tuesday, July 11th, 2006
1:26 pm
OMG Chris Manzer specifically; I just got The Avalanche and it is sooooo gooooood! I'm only like, halfway through it, and it is so tremendous. He needs to find a new state, and soon.

In other news, whatserface gets back in a week. So that's pretty cool. That turns 10 weeks into 5. 5 weeks of work. Who will hire for only a month? nobody will. I need a job downtown. But so do most people downtown.

The Mistress Witch from McClure(or the Mind That Knows Its self) is a really good song.

I miss a lot of people that are entire worlds away, and other people that are close enough for the wind to carry them love letters. That means you, Mason Cook. Wow, I've directly addressed two people in one journal. I feel kind of lame. Colin Out.

current mood: bored

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Thursday, July 6th, 2006
2:07 pm - Hope Ben doesn't get jealous...
My two true lovesCollapse )

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Wednesday, June 28th, 2006
10:36 am
"People talk a lot of shit on the internet, but in the end they'll only eat like... two hot dogs."

- Chris Hastings, author of Dr. Mcninja

current mood: lethargic

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Monday, June 26th, 2006
12:59 am - Evan and Hannah make excellent side dishes, especially with pasta
and then,

now that I've found an old friend she won't stop following me around (by which I mean I saw her at what seems to have been a mutual friend's open house). We've barely spoken, but I'd like to catch up.

My hands are dirty. They tore the ceilings down, light fixtures and all. I'm not sure if it's infuriating or just mysterious. It sure puts a damper on human locomotion, though.

It's amazing how long one week has been. I'm 1/9 of the way through. Hang tough.

current mood: anxious

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Saturday, June 24th, 2006
11:57 pm
soooo... $1300, a color TV, and a wicked radical party. Not a bad day, if I say so myself. Sure do wish more people could have come, though.

Man do I miss those kids. One in particular...

So, looks like I'm also getting B-Tay's bike? That's pretty sweet too. Anyway. TIRED.

current mood: OMG TEH SLEEPZORZ

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Friday, May 12th, 2006
3:29 pm

current mood: OMG

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Thursday, May 4th, 2006
4:14 pm
So! AP literature is finally done! Now what? Film study? I'm game. Or maybe we'll finish up Shakespeare? That would be ok, except that I don't much want to read that much more Shakespeare right now at all.

Anyway. Lemme tell you guys something. IHOP. That is, for those of us who were raised in seclusion in a hut for their whole lives, sheltered from the smut and filth of the outside world, fed astronaut food and made to watch endless hours of footage of blooming flowers and war marches, the International House Of Pancakes. And let me tell you...um. I dunno. I like IHOP, was the point, I guess?

Wouldn't it be awesome if everyone just settled dispuutes with breakdancing?

these will be the longest 3 weeks I will ever live.

current mood: anxious

(5 comments | comment on this)

Monday, May 1st, 2006
5:07 pm

I am a dude in need of a catchy slogan. Something to put under my name on business cards to convince people they should associate with me and maybe be my friend. Something like, "Colin: Your man in any situation!" But that's a little more sexually permissive than I would really like. SO. If you think of any good ones, drop me a line! (An e-line, that is. Unless you want to call, because that's cool too. Whatever. I'm not really picky.)

Colin Wilson,

P.S.- HOLY CRAP! I skipped the entire month of March. Maybe I will update some more? Maybe with some comics and pictures? Hmmm? hmmmmm?

current mood: aggravated

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Friday, April 14th, 2006
12:33 am
The salt flat stretches out for miles. I raise my head for the first time after hours of watching my feet shuffle over the parched, cracked earth. The horizon is blue and white and gold, all the same color, all different. My lips are so chapped. The cord from my bag is cutting into my shoulder, and there is a raw, red line from it. I bring my hand to my mouth, drag my finger across the lower lip. It is bleeding down my chin, and the blood mixes with sweat to stain my shirt collar, all down my neck and chest, But I can't feel it. I am then on the ground, sitting, laying, squinting into the sky and then at the insides of my eyelids, squinting out the bright. I take off my shirt, drape it over my head. Despite the heat, the ground feels cool and soft and I fall asleep almost instantly.
I wake to the smell of a feather pillow, the dog, guitar strings. I lift my hand to my lip to see if I am chapped or bleeding, but it is soft and warm. I run my hand up the side of my face, through my hair, and then drop it loudly on the bed next to me. 3:04, says the clock. "Three oh four," I whisper, barely audible, scratchy through phlegm. The dog looks up. I lay my head back down and stare up at the sun. I slowly work my way to my feet and shoulder the bag. I build a city just on the horizon, all glass and granite, pulled from the earth. I become a soldier and fight a war for something I can taste. I wander between dreams and alarm clocks, white doves, sidewalk chalk. I draw pictures from what I've seen and what you've seen. The outlines are thick and coarse, chapped, calloused, parched. I fill them in with salt and sand, with colors I've seen you wear, with sea water and sky-scrapers. I am going to wake up and find them, trace them over and over until I get it right, until they are soft and warm. Help me fill them in.

current mood: groggy

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Sunday, February 19th, 2006
12:12 pm
I run through the neighborhood for 10 minutes or more, the cold air embracing me, and painting my cheeks crimson, brittle. I run until the pavement becomes very soft under my feet, and they sink into it, and then lift off, weightless.
I should go back. I shouldn't have left. That was stupid. Now they think I'm mad at them. I'm not mad at them.
I trudge back down Dickerson towards the pond, stumble briefly over the small swimming pool by the edge of the trees (whose is it? how long has it been there? since summer, at least.) and stand by the edge of the ice. The trees are all creaking, and there is an occasional CRACK of the ice as it refreezes and shifts. I can see through the sliding glass door. Cant you just leave it alone for five minutes? Christ, I need to get my shit together. You're not mad at them. I'm not mad at them.CRACK.
Coming back through the yard, I see the neighbors, next door, in a halo of smoke. They are barbecuing. It is 8:00, maybe 17 degrees outside, and they are barbecuing on the back deck. It's ritualistic. every Friday they must grill, they must grill or offer up their first born child. Do they have children? They must. They will grill on the back deck or they will suffer the consequences. I wave and smile. CRACK.They wave back, and return their attention to the spatula, some minute detail. I try the doorknob, even though I know it will be locked. It is locked. They heard you try the doorknob and think you are stupid. It is locked, you know it is locked. I knock. She meets me at the door and smiles, then briefly rests her head on my chest. I am warm again instantly. You need to get your shit together. What to do. You need to stop acting like a stranger.
"Your neighbors are grilling outside. It's like, 4 degrees or something."
"They do that a lot," She says, and smiles. It's so warm.
I miss her like a desert misses the rain.

current mood: energetic

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Thursday, February 16th, 2006
6:03 pm
<td align="center"> Colin --

Sexually stunning

'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com</td>

Dude, that chick is soooo Colin.

I like that.

current mood: amused

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Sunday, February 12th, 2006
2:53 pm
Note to self- Prudence to the point of immobility is not productive.

current mood: hopeful

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Saturday, January 14th, 2006
1:12 pm
When I walk home I get time to think.
Salt-stained shoes that crack at the seams carry me farther than any machine.
If I want to stop and look, I will pause until I lose interest.
If I want to run, I will get tired, and breathe heavily, and the winter will burn my lungs, and I'll feel it in my sides. I'll spit on the sidewalk, and look at my reflection in the windows of buildings I pass, and remember when the gum was stuck to that light post for so long, linger there, staring.
I can walk ten thousand miles, between my house and yours.

current mood: grateful

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