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MY ROOM MATE LOOSES HIS TOWEL EVERY SINGLE MORNING ON HIS WAY TO THE SHOWER TO GET READY FOR WORK.  HE IS A LAWYER WHO LOVES SPEED ALMOST AS MUCH AS HE LOVES COCAINE.  HE ALSO SLEEPS SITTING UP IN HIS BED WHITH HIS EYES OPEN AND OFTEN YELLS PROFANITY AND HOMOPHOBIC SLURS IN HIS SLEEP WHILE APPLYING LIPSTICK..IN HIS WAKING HOURS HE IS NOT HOMOPHOBIC. IN FACT SOMETIMES I GET THE FEELING HE IS GAY.....AT ANY RATE HE KNOWS A LOT ABOUT PREETY MUCH EVERYTHING WHICH IS GOOD BECAUSE I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ANYTHING SO THE LATE NIGHT LECTURES ON GOVERNMENT PROPAGANDA AND FAST FOOD GENOCIDE THAT HE GIVES ME REALLY TEACH ME THINGS IM GLAD I NOW KNOW.....LAST NIGHT I STOLE HIS VOLVO SO THAT I COULD GIVE SOME GIRL A RIDE HOME AND THIS MORNING HE DIDNT EVEN NOTICE THAT IT WAS PARKED ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STREET.....ALL IN ALL I THINK HE IS A DAMN GOOD ROOM MATE.....RED
 
 

HELP ME!  i AM IN A SOBER LIVING NEAR THE ROSE BOWL IN PASADENA. I LIVE JUST OVER THE RETENTION WALL ON THE 210 FREEWAYT AND CAN BE RESCUED FROM THE SOUTHBOUND LANES. I AM WILLING TO BE STUFFED INTO A DECORATIVE LAMP TO GET OUT OF HERE.
 
My roomate just told me he's going to get a job at tower records because he feels like he has no dirextion in his life. WHAT A LOSER! HE WILL SOON BECOME PRESIDENT OF THE BON JOVI FAN CLUB AND FEED HIMSELF ON STALE CHEEERIOS AND BEER! WHAT'S A GIRL TO DO?
i AM STUCK IN SOBRIETY WITH MR. "I CAN'T CREATE A WEBZINE WITH WINDOWS 98...WHAT A PUSSY..SO I SHOWED HIM HOW TO BUILD THIS SITE WITH THIS WUSSY WIG TRIPOD SHIT..BUT WHO IS HERE LATE AT NIGHT WORKNG WHILE MR. PJ GENERATION CHASES SMALL ELF LIKE PYGMIE CHICKS AROUND DEVIL'S GATE RESEVOIR. i AM SURE HE WILL LEAVE ME HERE TO FEND FOR MYSELF WHILE HOMELAND SECURITY DETAINS HIM NEAR THE JPL. lIFE WAS  BETTER WHEN I WAS A HOMELESS TRANSVESTITE COKE WHORE DOWNTOWN. I HATE SOBER LIVING. BLACK

so i called kelly and she told me she sold about two thousand dollars worth of shoes today at Charles David and the whole time i listened and i diddnt speak and i wanted to choke her and beat her to death with something expensive and i wanted to tell her that it was her fault that her mother is an alcoholic but then i realized that it wasnt just her i wanted to inflict pain on it was LA as a whole it was westwood it was malibu it was Echo Park Angeleno Heights with the victorian homes that are becoming popular amoung wealth wanabe junkie faggots with their beautiful pet girlfriends it was pasadena which i have always held a special place for in my heart but today it became clear that i will never be able to afford it due to the wealthy wanabe art school faggots who are buying up all the victorian homes and down town is clearly already in pain so i sympathize with it but now i picture these beautiful white teeth on perfect white faceson heads with hip messy kinda shabby chic hair cutsand torn designer jeans that cover healthy tan legs and tight plain white calvin klein v-neck shirts that almost cover the tribal tattoo that they wish could get removed because it was so last year but who cares cuz at first glance nobody can tell and they are walking their little mutant rat faced miniature shnousers or maybe a mini pincher or an under weight chiwawa which might even be too last year as well but still cute and they still have that korn/puff daddy rap rock dance remix in thier heads from that club they were at last night playing at a very slow pace because they had to take a tiny peice of xanax this morning because of the headaches and they make sure to pass through the garment district so they can feel urban enough to have mexican for lunch and then i forget about kelly and i forget about westwood and the faggots and i forget about the porn stars i want to fuck out in the valley and i forget about the indi-rock wannabes in Angeleno Heights and silverlake and i forget about my friends from high school selling herion down on broadway and i forget about the coked out cops that surround them and i forget about the sunset strip at night and i forget about fake tits and bruised arms and black converse high tops bad hair cuts and expensive calogne underage mexican girls and japanise food tribal tattoos and beautiful beaches and greenish blue vicodin and clear sunny days and Loui Vatton hand bags ray ban sunglasses deasel jeans good pot crappy cocain cut with too much speed modern arcatecture melrose in the summer big bear in the winter lakers jearseys doger hats strip clubs with stupid names and freeways that take you back in time graffitti from the early eaightes china town with whats her name drugs under the freeway broken skateboards rayns old apartment in gleadale cell phones that never shut up women who never shut up vinecian blinds teeth that glow in the dark i also fforget about gas prices smog some girl from sweden a stolen nine milimeter food with no calories shopping malls never end a bathroom sink covered in blood easter brunch at the Ritz Caralton ciggirretts forom france rodny king my mothers roasereys scatterd all over the house the angeles crest highway at sunset a bob marley poster my friend nancys ass in high school a transvestite with two toung peircings the red line the blue line the gold line big white lines of cocain at josh's house after he stabbed some kid from pasadena movies i havent seen concerts i should have gone to girls i should have slept with girls i might have slept with driving some kids car home from chatsworth while he was having a seizure in the back seat and i kinda diddnt care greed days third album ex-girlfriends skin a broken bong a camarro last christmas good champagne goat cheese hot wind that almost shatters the windows in the middle of the night earthquakes that never happend the times the car never crashed the bullet the killed ashelys little brother my friend jon foshee that random night at the zen garden when a school teacherfrom ventura wanted to take me home but i couldnt because i had school the next day depression so bad i almost threw up day dreaming about a world with no pain the time i wanted to find a cop to chase me but couldnt find one songs that move me friends who never leave the tujunga river bed foothill blvd. new shoes i forget about the planes that hit the towers i forget to breathe for a second because i am staring at my reflection in a wall sized mirrior and i have no idea who i am anymore and it scares me so deeply that all i can do is stare at my reflection with my mouth open as if i am about to ask a question....... 

Table of Contents
January 2000

In this area, I might include links to specific pages of my e-zine, perhaps with a short summary of the content in order to draw readers in.

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siamese twin aborted fetus

Never trust anyone wearing pants