xmisspreternaturalx

Revelations

    Conard did not give head starts. To him this was a simple rule of thumb, not a matter of debatable ethics. Conard simply felt that to give a head start is to betray both prey and predator and begrudge them their ultimate fate. “And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as dead: and he laid his right hand upon me, saying unto me, 'Fear not, I am the first and the last'.”

                Conard liked to exercise a feeling of control. He was not a man that would exercise such blasphemy as to equate himself with the Lord His Savior, but nonetheless was fond of repeating “Revelation 1:17, Revelation 1:17” in his head while running something down. An element of control, he reasoned, was present in the Lord’s revealing himself to John, and thus, he reasoned further, could apply to his “no head starts” rule. Not blasphemy, then.

                But Conard could not comprehend the small wisp of a girl crumpled on the floor. Treason, the Defense Minister had said and then promptly walked away. The single word, “treason”, was Conard’s only explanation as to why a schoolgirl was lying unconscious at his feet in the basement of the Defense Department. Normally, Conard hardly needed a reason to carry through with the tasks the Minister assigned to him, but this...this was far from normal, he thought. He scratched the side of his chin. He bent down to look at her face. She was maybe a third of his size, small and slight with mousy hair and upturned features. She couldn’t be older than fifteen. Conard made every effort not to discriminate on the job- women, children, the elderly- he knew they could all be capable of things best left unsaid. He had seen it. But this was different because this girl looked far too familiar for his comfort. And normally, the Defense Minister would not overstep his boundaries so far as to sentence a schoolgirl to what was, normally speaking, certain death. Other men he had worked for, definitely, but not the Minister. The Minister was, for a Vietnam veteran, quite a squeamish and morally conflicted man. So Conard crouched down and thought. As he thought, he heard the girl stirring. Blood had congealed on a wound on the side of her head. That bothered him as well; normally whoever he was sent was in pristine condition. Geneva Convention and all that. He let out a long release of breath that would have been mistaken as a sigh in anyone else and decided to wait until she could speak to tell him why she was here.

                About three minutes after his decision, the girl opened her eyes and groaned. “Where the hell am I?” She asked in small and weary voice, looking up at the man who appeared more as a pale mass dressed in black than a real human to her groggy eyes.

                “The Defense Department. The basement, to be exact,” Conard replied in a voice straightforward enough to belie comprehension. One thing he considered an even more important rule of thumb was to never let something he was chasing know he was confused.

                The girl blinked big brown eyes for a minute until he came into view clearly. The pale bald man in front of her loomed large and imposing, dressed all in black with a menacing rifle at his side. She only had a second to be frightened before her rational mind took over and said, best not let him see you’re scared. Crocodile tears probably won’t work. She sat up, her head throbbing intensely.

                “Why am I here?” She asked with a frown.

“I was hoping you could tell me the same thing,” replied Conard.  Be watchful, and strengthen the things which remain, that are ready to die: for I have not found thy works perfect before God, he told himself. If she could not tell him why she was here, he would have no choice but to carry through with the Deed. Conard did not like to do a job half-assed, and he was already quite in doubt of his actions.

She thought. Images resounded through her brain, and she felt sick to her stomach when she realized why she must be here. “I told the Defense Minister no.”

“No?”

“Yeah. I told him no.”

“Can you please elaborate?” Conard asked, with no measure of impatience present in his voice.

                “I wouldn’t fuck him. I said no. He got angry. Until I woke up here with you standing over me with that nasty-looking rifle, I’d have counted myself lucky he didn’t rape me, really.” She almost smiled.

                Conard was stunned and speechless. Something had always seemed off about the Minister, but as to whether his bosses enjoyed screwing young girls Conard had never been concerned and thus never investigated. This left him in even more of an awkward predicament.

                “You know that there’s really no way I should even believe you. I mean, for all I know you are just an excellent liar,” He told her.

                She thought about that. “I suppose that’s true. I mean, I do have a wound on my head from being pushed into a desk corner, but for all you know I could have done that picking up some books at school, not trying to avoid unwanted advances from a pervy old man.”

                They were both quiet. Conard thought, hard, about why this girl seemed so familiar. Then it dawned on him. “I saw you.”

                “Huh?” She asked.

                “I saw you, with the Minister…saw you being escorted into his office and running out. That’s why you looked familiar.”

                “And nothing raised any alarm bells in your mind when you saw that?” She asked dryly.

                “It’s not my business,” He replied in a curt tone.

                They were quiet again, and Conard let out another not-quite-sigh.

                He spoke. “I suppose that lends enough weight to your story that I can believe you.”

                She didn’t respond for a minute. “Does this mean you aren’t going to kill me?” She asked.

                He scowled at himself, at the whole situation. “I suppose not,” Conard replied a little gruffly.

                She smiled at him. “Well, you should know that I appreciate the kindness.”

Conard, though admittedly an assassin, did not altogether consider himself an immoral man. He was a clearly devout Christian, and while he believed firmly that he could in no way compare to the One True Son of God, he lived his life by a moral code he was careful to keep intact. Being an assassin hardly interfered with this because, as Conard reasoned, everyone he hunted had it coming to them in one way or another. Really, he was just carrying out the Vengeance of the Lord. So when Conard searched his mind to find justification for the girl committing any act of treason, and thus giving him a viable reason to dispose of her, he came up empty. He let out a real and frustrated sigh.

“So if I’m going to let you go, you’d better go. There’s an emergency exit to the left. I’ll disable the alarm for you.” Even as he said it, he knew that he would come to regret this. He knew his employers too well to know that the girl’s disappearance, with no body for them to see and be satisfied by, would not go unchecked.

He disabled the alarm quickly, silently thankful that the Boiler Room of the Defense Department had no cameras, and waved her through.

The girl paused in the doorway and smiled. “Thank you,” she said simply.

“I’d suggest getting on the first flight to somewhere remote. Personally, I’d recommend an Indonesian island but I know the climate’s not for everyone,” he said, nearly smiling.

She grinned. “Oh, I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about me.” She said it with such conviction, Conard really wasn’t worried. He was, however, worried about himself. But that could be dealt with later.

She slinked out the door and disappeared rapidly out of sight of any of the windows. As he closed the door behind her, Conard felt troubled.

 

His fears were not unfounded. A day later, after a long day at the Defense Department and stopping at the convenience store down the block from his apartment for some milk and fruit, Conard was shot in the back of the head. As he fell to the ground he heard the screams and yells of bystanders around him and saw through darkening vision his oranges rolling into the street and the dropped milk leaking. No one had even seen the shooter. Conard thought so much for a good deed, and recited the Lord’s Prayer one last time before his heart stopped beating forever.

 

“And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as dead. And he laid his right hand upon me, saying unto me, Fear not; I am the first and the last…”

-Revelation 1:17

A quiet cry in the night,

Passing under street lamps in my dreams

I heard you go on silent feet

A short and foreign life, one

I only brushed past in some cold hallway

 
The number your life was reduced to

Left me silent and afraid.

I slinked through your hospital room

But I do not remember this now.

There I shattered without sound.

 
It was in some dream where I was so sure

We were both awake.

 

Rest in peace, Eddie Brown.

In some broken world there is still gold under rocks in mountain streams and oil deep within the earth and all the things we once held valuable but we have forgotten them because nothing is left but us and the cities are burned and crumbling but we are no longer cold and the sun is warm on our backs and the desert rocks are dry and birds still fly above our heads and when you look at me no matter what you say I feel your voice resonate within me and I think you might be able to see through me like I am some transparent ghost of a girl and I close my eyes and kiss you hard in my head and I don’t think I can last much longer because I want you and something I can’t name but I need so much it burns my stomach and you should know I wake up at night and all I feel is a strange kind of lonely hunger and I am certain you are the last person in the world or maybe the last one that matters at least.

I first found love in the poetry stacks
On grey days when the city surrounding sighed
I was caressed by Neruda, Rumi and Tagore
My world uprooted with a description of eyes-
A celebration of a slant of golden light.
The words made me sob inside,
I was aching, aching, aching with a power
And the fierce bright tiger of love.
I was sixteen and awakening with spring
The words were peaches of summer,
Boys with black curls and ocean sounds.
I did not know where I was in the world,
I seemed to be too many hearts at once.
The triangle creases of Neruda’s whole passion
Told me lovers had been here and gasped
Sobbed as I had sobbed, with everything
And nothing and sudden understanding.
I recalled faces that showed me words
Places I had never known but discovered
And I did not doubt that unripe love.
I am certain blood now pours from my body,
That I leave stains on the concrete and grass
So full is my heart and so wet my eyes.
The universe kissed me and I learned
How to kiss the universe back.

-Alex

This is the journal answering all of your questions. ENJOY OMG.

Berryvalentine: Who is your favorite author? What are your thoughts on yaoi?

1. This is really hard for me, because I've always been someone who digests works individually, I don't usually take things like author into consideration too much. Honestly though, at this point I would probably say Shakespeare- maybe it's a little cliche, but I've had more works written by him that have repeatedly moved me throughout the years in more volume than any other writer I can think of off the top of my head. A runner up would be Phillip Pullman, who wrote the fantastic His Dark Materials series.

2. Haha, well, I feel I should put it out there that I'm pretty much an open minded person in terms of sexuality and in a sense I find a lot of things sexy. There's a lot of yaoi that I think is actually pretty hot, and a lot of yaoi that makes me want to scoop my own eyes out with a melon baller. It really depends- but in general, well, why the fuck not.

Alexher123: How did Morrissey get to be so awesome, and why are other fellow Mancunians also awesome, is it in the water? Do you think because of your age and the way you choose to look some people take you somewhat less serious than you wish, or have you always felt the fact you are a smart person is always appreciated?

1. I totally think it's in the water, I have a theory developing about that.

2. I definitely think that once people realize I'm only sixteen they often belittle what I have to say. I do feel in a sense that my maturity is appreciated, but more so my age is a hindrance to me and an obstacle I have to overcome for older people to take me seriously. I've never thought of myself in terms of age, strange as that may sound, but I've always kind of felt ageless- for lack of a better term. It's never been a huge deal to me, so I get disappointed when others buy into it. I used to feel like I had something to prove to older people, but now I don't really feel like I have much to prove to anyone. I think it's a positive attitude for people to have because it really helps weed out the people who are going to judge you for superficial reasons. I may not have the experience of a fifty year old, but that doesn’t mean I can’t relate on some intellectual or emotional level.

xtracyx: What do you think about our generation? Messed up or perfectly fine? 

Honestly, that's something I've been mulling over for a while and I'm not sure I've come up with an answer that really satisfies me yet. I think, even if through the wrong reasons or paths, our generation is more aware than many past generations. As my dad pointed out to me the other day, the teens of the 80s and 90s were dubbed the "me" generation. I believe while in many ways that will always apply to teenagers, especially American teenagers, we have become more aware. We're the tech-savvy generation and many of us know computers better than our parents. The onset of the internet has been both a bad and a good thing; bad as in the countercultural afterbirth known as "scene", good as in the sense that literally an incalculable amount of information is now available with the click of a mouse. I think we're both messed up and perfectly fine- we have a lot more to worry about in this day and age, but in many ways we're better equipped to deal with it. I think it's easier for us to talk about things, and I am a firm believer in the power of discussion.

Skintight: If you had a chance to bring one animal back for extinction what would it be? What, in your opinion, is the best song ever written? What character from a book/movie/play/comic ect would you want to play if were guaranteed the role in the new film adaptation of it?

1. Dude, the Dodo, no doubt. That thing ruled. Either that or carrier pigeons, how sick would it be to have pigeons delivering your mail?

2. Aw shit. If you put a gun to my forehead and forced me to choose or you'd kill a kitten, I'd have to say "Born to Run" by Bruce Springsteen. I've never had a song take me on such an amazing journey every time I've listened to it except for this song. The lyrics, the music, and the story come together in a way that amazes me and I doubt will ever cease to amaze me. To me, Springsteen is the ultimate storyteller of the lonely American youth, and he tells his stories with an undying determination and an incredible amount of heart, and "Born to Run" is an incredible song that exemplifies that.

3. When I was younger, I loooved the His Dark Materials series. I still do and they will probably always be a source of inspiration for me. I didn't understand as much about the concepts underlying the plot line as I do now, but even when I was twelve or thirteen I KNEW I wanted to play Lyra more than anything. I always kind of thought they'd come out with movies of the series, and I was right. Of course, by the time it began casting I was way too old and wasn't as enthusiastic about the part as I used to be, so needless to say it never worked out. So I suppose if I had the ability to change circumstance and time as well, I'd want to play Lyra while I was still twelve or thirteen. If in this hypothetical circumstance I don't have that ability, then I'd definitely want to play Ophelia from Hamlet. I find her character fascinating, easy to empathize with, and despite all the in-depth character studies scholars have done on her, she is always mysterious and an enigma for any actress to uncover. The preparation of the role would be intense and I'd probably drive everyone around me batshit with the method acting, but it would be worth it.

Crazyscorpio11: What do you think of high school? What are your inspirations? Can you speak other languages? What is the one place you would love to go? How many cats do you have and what are their names? What is your full name?

1. Luckily the school I’m going to now is really awesome and doesn’t divide up into the different levels of elementary, middle, and high school (it’s very small and democratic), which I like. I hated public high school. There was so much about the approaches to learning that were used there that I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t swallow the fact that my learning was less important to them than a test score. Things like that ultimately led me to seeking alternative schools, and now I’m really happy with the one I’m currently in.

2. Everyone says this, but I take inspiration from everywhere. Even if I have my own issues with the human race, I find society and people really fascinating. People watching, especially in big cities, is one of my favorite past times, and the variety in humanity intrigues me. Another huge source of inspiration for me is music. I think a good song should take you somewhere and make you feel SOMETHING. Film is the same way for me- if I can get sucked into the world a film presents, or a song presents, or a good book presents, then I’m automatically inspired. The experiences of others really inspire me.

3. I can speak a little bit of French. Maybe enough to hold a- poorly accented- conversation. I know a few words of English and Japanese, but I’m really only fluent in English. I’d like to change that, so I’m started to get involved in languages again.

4. There are so many places I’d like to visit! If I had to choose one, I guess I would say Thailand. Something about the culture has always drawn me there. I’m not sure what it is…maybe the temples, the collision of the ancient and the modern, the food, the people- I don’t really know, but it’s always filled me with a sense of wonder and adventure, and any place that does that is probably a place that will end up being good for you in some way.

5. I have three cats. Two are a mother and her daughter, and the other one (and the youngest as well) is from a family down the street whose mother cat gave birth last June. The mother is named Misty (often referred to as Fatso or Fatass because of her Jabba the Hut-like build), the daughter is named Marmalade, and the kitten is named Sylvia.

6. My full name is Alexandra Elaine Brinker.

I hope you guys are satisfied with the answers!

I almost never do livejournal memes because more often than not they are a waste of my time and very few people actually read my livejournal, so, I decided to do one of the few actual memes I thought was kind of badass in my buzznet journal.

Everyone has things they blog about. Everyone has things they don't blog about. Challenge me out of my comfort zone by telling me something I don't blog about, but you'd like to hear about, and I'll write a post about it. Ask for anything: latest movie watched, last book read, political leanings, thoughts on yaoi, the benefit of revolutions, sex, drugs, rock n' roll, favorite type of underwear, graphic techniques, etc. Repost in your own journal so that we can all learn more about each other.

Those are the rules, ask me whatever and I'll create a new post about it and link you to it. Ready, set, go!

As for me, I am one hundred percent pro-choice. It is
never, ever my decision what is best for a woman. And for all those who
say "give the baby up for adoption"- I think you may be underestimating
pregnancy. Those will probably be the hardest nine months of a woman's
life. And we'd like to believe there are so many families would love to
adopt- but think about it. Think about the extraordinary numbers of
children in foster care in the U.S. No child should have to go through
anything but a loving home. No woman should ever be forced to give up
her own child to strangers because she cannot care for it, and she
should never be forced to end her whole life simply for the child.
People do not realize this- a baby is not a doll, it is a living and
breathing thing. It needs constant, constant attention. This is a human
life you are now responsible for- how is it in any way fair to put the
burden of human life on anyone who is not ready? Denying women the
right to abortion is setting feminism back decades. How often are
fathers even around in situations like these? I will not even touch how
inconceivably cruel it is to tell a woman who has had to go through the
more than traumatic experience of rape to have to raise a child that is
a product of that. And for those who would say "if you do not have the
means to raise a child, you should not be sexually active or at least
have adequate birth control", I ask you to take a step back and
consider how incredibly classist this statement is. Why should those
who cannot afford to take care of children resign a basic, instinctual
human urge? What are you attempting to say, that the poor should not
breed? The reason many poorer women cannot afford birth control is not
because they do not work hard, but because of the almost tyrannical
health care system in the United States. I ask all those opposed to any
woman having an abortion to consider this- the root of this is not the
idea that someone who is raped or who cannot take care of a child
SHOULD have an abortion- only that they have the right and the choice
to do so and that their character should not suffer judgment from any
power other than their own morality.

I wrote this last night. Enjoy.

    Night used to bring on a potent wave of loneliness for me. It’s draining when everyone else in the house is asleep and you’re all alone in your room with the weight of your own thoughts, the sensations heightened by the kind of exhaustion you can’t slate with an eight hour sleep.  Stumbling into bed in the early hours that should be lost to dreams is a defense mechanism to shorten the time period between when you turn off the lights and curl under the covers and when you actually fall asleep. It’s something I’ve mastered in my own right.

    But, for some unfathomable reason, the late nights of my life have become less lonely in the past weeks. All the half-formed theories in my brain seem to have no weight, so I have given up trying to guess why. The house is still quiet. My brother is spending the night at a friends’ house, my parents sleeping with the quiet, almost synchronized breathing of a content couple who will be married for twenty years come September. It is  12:28 a.m on the first of March, 2008. Snow is falling outside, muffling the sounds of the road and the rare train calling out in the darkness. It makes me feel sleepy and quiet, dreamlike. In New England it is often said that March “comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.” I have often found this true, and I don’t expect this year to be any different. Despite the weeks past I have spent wishing passionately for some sign of spring having conquered winter totally, the snowstorm that will last through noon tomorrow and dump possibly more than a foot of snow on my small Connecticut town firmly tells me otherwise. But for right now, it’s alright. I am warm and comfortable and sleepy. Today is Saturday and I can do what I like when I wake up again. There are soft acoustic songs to be listened to while I try to fall asleep, no boys to worry with excitement about (but the hope that there may be one soon), and far away cities to dream about. There are so many breaths and heartbeats to be had in such a short sliver of time.

PLEASE READ.

I am asking you to take five minutes or less out of your day and please read Shannon's journal and comment, and to please think about whether or not we want the incessant catering to scene queens and the unwarranted clusterfuck of promotion to keep happening on Buzznet. Spread the word, spread the idea that we don't think this garbage is worthy of continuing to be shameless promoted by Buzznet.com, and that we are fed up with one percent of the Buzznet population being the face of the other ninety nine percent, who have interesting and intelligent things to say and actually make time spent on the internet worthwhile.

Hannah Beth, Audrey Kitching, Kiki Kannibal, Jeffree Star- they all have just as much a right to Buzznet as we do. But how can we honestly condone the fact that when people come to Buzznet they are bombarded with the same faces all of the time? Why is it that we have to be a model or have interesting hair to become worthy of being on the front page? Buzznet is made from its user-generated content- the content users write, photograph, film, and share themselves. If we make it considerably harder for users who are not well known online to get their original content in the spotlight, then we must ask ourselves what we are really promoting.

If you came to Buzznet because it seemed interesting, different, friendly, then I ask you to please comment with your support. If you don't want to see the power of money favored over the power of creativity on Buzznet, speak out. If this is your site, then fight for it.

MOAR COVERS!

New Order- "Ceremony"

There is something of a strange finality to this song. Originally written and recorded by Joy Division (for those not in the know, New Order was essentially a reassemblance of the former Joy Division members after Ian Curtis's suicide), the very concept of the former bandmates covering the song seemed to be a eulogy of sorts. In the strange abyss that is my stash of delusions, I can imagine New Order playing this soley for Ian. It would be a fitting rememberance. A poignancy runs throughout the track; it keeps the song solemn yet uplifting. The guitar carries the strength of the song through to the end, full, clear, and powerful. "Ceremony" is a song for revelations, for crossroads. It's the song that plays when you realize something indescribable has just occured and you can never go back to the things you once held as truths. It's the song I would recommend to anyone recovering from the grief of losing someone dear to you, a reminder to move on and to love and stay honest and alive and true and everything that means something in the beautiful and fucked-up world we inhabit.

"[...]But then we wouldn't have been able to build it. No one could if they put themselves first. We have to be all those difficult things like cheerful and kind and curious and patient, and we've got to study and think and work hard, all of us, in all our different worlds, and then we'll build..."
-Lyra Belacua in The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman

This is dedicated to Ian Curtis, and to Shannon.

EDIT: Shannon is still alive.

The title is pretty self-explanatory- songs I think you should download and the reasons why. I will try and do at least one song every day. At least every week day.

Johnny Cash- "One" (off of American III: Solitary Man)

Johnny Cash is one of those artists with whom I maintain the idea that if you cannot understand or get into his music, you have bad taste. And no, I don't give a fuck about how judgemental that statement is because honestly, you have no legitimate reason to dislike Johhny Cash. In fact, I would go so far as to say that if you listen to this song, a cover of the original by U2, and still can't get into him, then quite frankly, you suck. What Cash really brings to this song is a sense of humbleness that Bono and his gigantic overinflated ego the gang did not manage to bring the first time around. When stripped down to an acoustic guitar and Cash's deep, flowing voice- showing its age throughout the record- the bombastic ballad is turned into a simple but extraordinary story of the tribulations and triumphs present in the relationship between two people in love. In some tracks on the rest of the album, the age showing in Cash's voice lends a certain world-weariness to a song, but on "One" it becomes more a testament to the wisdom gained by age and by love that has withstood everything time has thrown at it. The song is so uplifting it takes on a certain spirituality- it could almost be a hymn, or a reminder to take care of humanity. There are endless interpretations because of the simplicity injected by Cash into the track. One of the rare covers that exceeds the power of the first, this song is a classic and awe-inspiring track that is truly made by its subtlely and its understatement; it's the song you hear when your lover tells you- and really means it- "I'm sorry, dear, come back to bed."

...And that is why you should download "One" by Johnny Cash.

(I hope you all enjoyed it! Tell me what you think.)

This is a piece I wrote with the intention to share tonight at a town meeting regarding Connecticut Biodiesel potentially purchasing land in Suffield, my town, to build a plant. Many residents are vehemently against this plant and believe that it will ruin Suffield's charm and that the plant will be unsafe. (Both totally, uh, HORSESHIT arguments.)

I'd love your feedback and help. Here it is:

It is common knowledge that fossil fuels are running low. Oil has recently topped $100 a barrel. It is indisputable that petroleum and other fossil fuels are becoming expensive and scarce. What biodiesel attempts to do is solve this problem using natural vegetable oils. Biodiesel could very well be the beacon of change- why, when Suffield has a chance to be a large part of the alternative fuel movement, should we refuse it? There is simply no solid reason as to why we should resist the construction of a biodiesel plant in our town.
The fact of the matter is that Suffield really is no stranger to big business. The Hood dairy manufacturing plant lies within the boundaries of Suffield, and proposes a greater hazard risk because of its use of ammonia. The plot of land the proposed plant would sit on has, according to the Hartford Courant, been up for sale for thirty five years and is essentially an open field. Part of the industrial park near Bradley International lies in Suffield. The plant would hardly be an eyesore for residents. There is obvious concern that a biodiesel plant would somehow detract from the quaint charm of Suffield, and this is a valid concern. Suffield possesses a warmth and magnetism derived from its heritage that is undeniable and worth preserving. Yet a biodiesel plant would hardly be a threat to this. In fact, consider all the new sub-divisions that seem to spring up like grass every year- one could argue these are more of a threat to Suffield’s historic heritage than a biodiesel plant in a non residential area. The truth is that Suffield residents and big business have coexisted peacefully for many years.
But why biodiesel? Biodiesel is a desirable alternative fuel. The production of it, as opposed to ethanol, is relatively safe, with a positive end outcome. According to a paper by the Connecticut Center for Economic Analysis, biodiesel is four times more efficient than diesel fuel in utilizing fossil energy, because, unlike diesel fuel, it releases more energy than it consumes. Biodiesel also has a low toxicity, and biodegrades easily. From an economic standpoint, by switching to biodiesel in heating and vehicles, the state of Connecticut could save up to $20 million a year in averted health care costs. Biodiesel even reduces the risk of cancer and respiratory illness-causing pollutants in heating systems and school buses, something the state of Rhode Island has demonstrated by using it in many schools. In a press release by Governor Jodi Rell, a longtime advocate for alternative fuels, CTTransit Assistant General Manager of Maintenance Stephen Warren said, “A bus running on ultra-low sulfur diesel with a diesel particulate filter is as clean as any transit bus that can be purchased today. The benefits of using bio-diesel are numerous and it has virtually no downside.”
An article by Joseph Then states that “In 2006, it was estimated that construction of biodiesel plants and the ongoing operation of these plants would see more than 39,000 permanent jobs created in local communities by 2015. In addition, it was found that production of biodiesel could reduce the United States’ dependence on foreign crude oil imports by 242 million barrels by 2015. This decrease would mean that approximately $13.6 billion dollars would remain in the US economy. It is expected that the biodiesel industry will contribute $627 million into American householders’ pockets over the next decade. There are also opportunities for tax revenue associated with the commercial production of biodiesel. Industry expansion will generate approximately $8.3 billion dollars of increased tax revenue for the Federal Government and $650 million dollars for state and locate Governments over the next decade.” The article goes on to state, “In addition to being a cleaner, more environmentally friendly fuel source, there are major economic benefits for increasing commercial biodiesel production. For rural America in particular, the advantages of community biodiesel plants are significant.”
A biodiesel plant in this community could make Suffield a symbol of positive change and growing concern about the environment. This biodiesel plant will help us, not harm us. The biodiesel plant is something we should say a resounding “yes” to; for Suffield’s economy, for Suffield’s environment, for Suffield’s future.

Questions? Comments? Constructive criticism? Offers of worship?

As of the fourteeth of January, I have had an account on Buzznet for one year.

Let me just say, the year has been fucking INSANE. Good insane, bad insane, all over the place. The people I've met and the things this site has brought into my life are things that you don't run into on every internet community, and that's what makes my time on Buzznet so valuable. There are too many people to list individually who have made my time on Buzznet so gratifying, but a look at my top friends can give you a good idea. There are too many lulz I have had with Shannon and too many good times to begin to even list, but my lifely would be significantly more boring had I never struck up a conversation with her. She is a rad friend even if she's a living example of cuntfrontation and is always broke. There are several instances that point to us being soulmates, and she will confirm this, asshole. I still to this day am fucking glad I decided to IM Mark about the AFI Five Flowers mystery, because he has provided me with endless lulz and intelligent discussions and Patton Oswalt and a good friend in case I ever get to hit up the West Coast. Melody is amazing and probably far more intelligent than you and can talk me through shitty situations with a real grace, even if we don't get to talk for months at a time. Clint Catalyst is an example that being known for the right reasons still exists- his blogs, his photos are all examples of intelligence and awareness that supercede not only the standards for that hated phrase "e-fame" but those of American society at large. There are so many, many other people out there who have made my time on buzznet worth it. From insane fangirls who truly brought the lulz to photos that have taken my breath away, every experience on this site really is an experience.

My life's moving faster and faster now. In less than nine months I will be seventeen and hopefully preparing to graduate. To me, that's just a ridiculous concept to try and grasp onto. It's a welcome one though. I'm glad that Buzznet has given me the ability to inject some substance into my time on the Internets, and I can only believe that it will continue to.

Holy fail, batman.

"After pleading guilty to battery charges related to a brawl [involving guns] that lead to the death of a boy named Michael Cook, Ronnie Radke has been sentenced.
There were six people involved in the brawl; the only one who has been held accountabe, however, is Ronnie. Two other people involved in the brawl were brothers Michael and Marcel Colquitt. They were charged with murder, but the charges were dropped. Marcel Colquitt committed suicide last September.
 
As for Ronnie, he pled guilty to one charge of battery with substantial bodily harm for his involvement in the brawl. He has been sentenced to five years' probation -- which includes stipulations that he must be employed full-time, go to drug and alcohol rehab, and stay out of trouble. He also can't transfer his probation to other states, which means he is unlikely to be able to tour with the band. He also has to pay nearly $100,000 in restitution to the mother of Michael Cook."

All I have to say is...

LOLFAIL

    There are more and more days when all there is to say is just a sigh. It never seems to get any better and I honestly can’t tell when it’s getting worse. Between my story and yours and hers, it’s like we’re all battling these demons that we don’t stand a chance in Hell of beating. I feel like we’re all trapped in some spiral, drinking until we can’t notice it. How can life be so stagnant and volatile at the same time? I mean, fuck, I can just imagine all of us in a zoo; Teenager; homosapien adolescentus (or something). Look at its near constant preening attempts to attract and hold a mate! Currently on display from the present until adulthood are some of the most common types- the Depressive, the Abused, the Addict.
    We’re all common. Don’t let your perception of society fool you, there are more of us than you think. This is what happens when you don’t make the right decisions or they’re made for  you and you’re shit out of luck because that’s just the way the cards get dealt sometimes. That’s why when counselors try to talk to me about choices, quite frankly I have to suppress laughter. Choices? No one knows more about choices than we do. There’s something really primal in our desperate attempts to find a suitable partner, to stake love and lust like they were mountains (twin peaks in our world). Try and tell us about choices when we’re home alone and find out all our friends are at this amazing party. Try and tell us about choices when you don’t really know the reason we’re drinking. Try and tell us about choices when you can imagine what it’s like to be like us. They won’t pay you back for the beer, or the love or the friendship or anything else because the next morning their car will be wrapped around a tree and they will be lying in the morgue. We all live on the edge, and to expect more is to set yourself up for the only thing that gives us a real and reliable  high; disappointment.

(In case it isn't clear to you, this is a joke.)

IT HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT SOME JESUS-HATING QUEEROSEXUALS ON BUZZNET ARE DENOUNCING CHRISTMAS

I KNOW, IT'S SICKENING

DECEMBER 25TH MARKS THE EXACT DATE OF THE BIRTH OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOR, J.C. (DON'T LISTEN TO THOSE FRILLY-ASS HISTORIANS, IT'S SERIOUSLY DECEMBER 25TH)



NO NOT THAT J.C.

THIS J.C.:



NOW WE ALL KNOW THAT CHRISTMAS IS A TIME FOR JESUS AND PINE TREES. PINE TREES ARE AN ANCIENT SYMBOL OF JESUS. IF THEY ARE IMITATION PINE AND BRIGHT PINK WITH LIGHTS THAT MAY CAUSE EPILEPSY, EVEN BETTER. EPILEPSY AND PINK PLEASE JESUS.


ANOTHER EXCELLENT FEATURE OF CHRISTMAS IS THE FOOD. YOU SHOULD BE SURE TO STUFF YOURSELF TO THE SEAMS WITH ALL THE EXCELLENT FOOD SUCH AS


YUM YUM YUM. BUT I AM FORGETTING ANOTHER EXTREMELY IMPORTANT ASPECT OF CHRISTMAS. THE FAMILY. I MEAN THIS IS PROBABLY ONE OF THE ONLY TIMES OF THE YEAR YOU GET TO SEE YOUR UNCLE JIM. HE EVEN SAID HE'D BRING HIS RAT HUNTING GUN THIS YEAR LIKE HE'S TOTING IN HIS CHRISTMAS CARD



IN CONCLUSION, THIS IS WHY CHRISTMAS IS THE MOST GLORIOUS OF ALL HOLIDAYS.

CELEBRATE IT CORRECTLY OR BURN IN HELL, YOU HEATHENS.

LOVE,
ALEX

P.S.- GIVE ME ALL YOUR PRESENTS SO I CAN DONATE THEM TO THE POOR

   "For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
It's always ourselves we find in the sea."

-e.e. cummings

The problem with us is that nobody talks any more. We ruin our connections and even a hug doesn’t mean as much because no one is saying what they’re really thinking. No one is talking about the pain and the shame and how much it hurts to be left alone again. It’s as if some vines creep up and block the light we get from each other, the light that we don’t know how to work without, and we never notice until it’s too late. It grows darker and darker in our heads and we are alone. Our ghosts follow us and memory is made palpable to the point where you can’t even look at that photo because if we’re being honest here, it just makes you want to cry.  I know what I did was wrong. Maybe you know how hard it is to restrain myself and try not to plead with you for forgiveness. I am ashamed of everything I have done, and the pain I’ve caused comes back tenfold to myself. This is why I believe in karma; it’s happened to me, personally. I can attest to nights I haven’t fallen asleep until four a.m., my stomach turning all the while with shame and guilt, about how the stale smell of old venues and almond extract still hits me like a ton of bricks. I want to tell you how sorry I am for what I’ve done, but they’ve all told me to wait, and to give it time. I think this is best, but it’s not by any stretch of the imagination easy. I don’t understand what happened or where we, but mainly where I, went wrong. I hardly think it really matters now. So now, please understand, I am trying to pick up the pieces. I shattered my perception into a thousand little pieces, and I find a new one every day. You don’t have to worry about my feelings any more because there are a lot more important things at stake here. I will fight for these things as hard as I can.

What they never tell you in church is that the hardest demons to exorcise are the ones in your own heart.

DISCLAIMER: IT'S ALL IN GOOD FUN PEOPLE. THE INTERNET IS NOT SERIOUS BUSINESS.

I fucking love Escape the Fate.

Seriously, their music is like auditory rape. Violent auditory rape, but dear god, the band members are the best people on the planet.

The lead singer looks like a lesbian Joan Jett impersonator.
There's one who looks vaguely like a Vietnamese hooker.
Slash is also apparently in this band. (Downgrade, tbh.)
There's the fat Danzig fan.
Also the subsequent "that other guy, the one that likes Motley Crue, I don't know"
I think there may be another member in this circus of failure and hilarity, but I don't care.

Best band ever, clearly.

Oh and the "Situations" video is made of so much fail and "WTF" that it eventually just becomes amazing.

In conclusion, I dub Escape the Fate Alex's Epic Fail of the Week.

Omnia Vincit Amor

 

"If your love has no hope of being welcomed do not voice it; for if it be silent it can endure, a guarded flame, within you."

 

-Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

 

We are so far apart; miles, oceans even. Somehow I still feel like you live in me a little, like you’re some dormant part of me that just woke up.

                The seasons are changing now, summer is dying and giving way to Autumn, its turning leaves and brisk wind blowing past me, whispering the feelings into my ear I guess I knew I had all along. I’m beginning to realize just how much this means to me.

                I know the chances of this working out between us are improbable, extremely unlikely. But, it’s funny. While it’s complicating and frustrating and a myriad of other emotions that leave me feeling overwhelmed and like I might slip under soon, it’s like a little light inside me. I guess that’s the best way to describe this emotion, this sensation even. A sensation because it permeates nearly everything I do, think, touch, hear. It’s like somebody turned a light on in a room that had always been locked, and the door finally just flew open. It’s a soft but a strong light, like a candle in the window. It calls to something that I buried deep and far in me, that lies dormant, a violet under the February snow, patiently waiting for spring. The world feels different and I feel like I’m looking at it, really looking at it, for the first time.

                So I’d like you to know this. I’m not sure if you feel the same way, but it’s a little funny in that respect; even if you didn’t feel the same about me, even if you found someone another girl you loved truly and deeply, or if you went away and…I don’t know…became a Buddhist monk in a Tibetan monastery that allowed you no contact with the outside world, I feel like even still this would be here. Maybe always, even, if just fragmented and tiny. It’s such a different emotion. Time is such an interesting and bitter equalizer, but when you feel like you might have something that can test it, if you hold onto that something then sometimes it really stays.  It’s as if, since I’ve found you, that this whole world exists inside of me that I never really noticed before.

                I don’t know if I’m in love with you. Let me say that. But I know that, a little, in some way, I love you, and it’s liberation itself to be able to say that and to hold it in myself like a little glowing secret. Such is this feeling that in an odd way, just by feeling it, it’s like I’m bringing together the pieces. I’m picking up the pieces of ourselves and I’m bringing them together. When I talk to you, when I look at you, it’s as if the world has mended itself a little bit just because of my feelings. What if I were to let that out? What if you returned it? What if it grew? What a gorgeous torrent that would be. You’ve already unleashed something important in me. I feel more aware, more connected. Everything is bright and the world is sad but its beautiful and I feel like I can help save it just by caring even more. I’ve grown up so much, thanks to you. I mean, like I said, I don’t know if I’m truly in love with you, but I know that I feel more prepared. I understand love so much more, so much infinitely more, in a way that’s both terrifying and amazing. It’s really scary, really, really scary, but the waves of serenity and just absolute knowledge that run through me when I think of you are worth the fear. They’re worth the pain.

                So please, dear, never, ever destroy yourself. Oh, I know, I know so much how hard it is to face the world so seemingly alone. If I’m wrong and there is a conscious and real God, he would cry too at such a bright and important thing simply giving up. If you need me, I will be here. If you ever need me, I will always be here for you, in some way. It’s the least I can do. The entire world now lies before me, and while I want to share the moments with you because you’re so damn beautiful and you make me feel so new, that even if we can’t it will still be okay. I’ve got another thing holding off the darkness of a lonely night from getting too deep into my head. I’ve got what you’ve given me, so thank you.

                This is everything I’ve needed, and it’s been in me all along. You just gave me the key. Now I can walk forward into the dark and not be afraid, because it’s still in me, glowing fierce and bright as a defiant star, a candle in a black room. I am illuminated.