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27 years old
Gender Not Set
Born Nov-26-1989
i'll go with the cliche and post lyrics out of lack of interesting personality:

Yes that's right, punk is dead,
It's just another cheap product for the consumers head.
Bubblegum rock on plastic transistors,
Schoolboy sedition backed by big time promoters.
CBS promote the Clash,
But it ain't for revolution, it's just for cash.
Punk became a fashion just like hippy used to be
And it ain't got a thing to do with you or me.

Movements are systems and systems kill.
Movements are expressions of the public will.
Punk became a movement cos we all felt lost,
But the leaders sold out and now we all pay the cost.
Punk narcissism was social napalm,
Steve Jones started doing real harm.
Preaching revolution, anarchy and change
As he sucked from the system that had given him his name.

Well I'm tired of staring through shit stained glass,
Tired of staring up a superstars arse,
I've got an arse and crap and a name,
I'm just waiting for my fifteen minutes fame.
Steve Jones you're napalm,
If you're so pretty (vacant) why do you swarm?
Patti Smith you're napalm,
You write with your hand but it's Rimbaud's arm.

And me, yes I, do I want to burn?
Is there something I can learn?
Do I need a business man to promote my angle?
Can I resist the carrots that fame and fortune dangle?
I see the velvet zippies in their bondage gear,
The social elite with safety-pins in their ear,
I watch and understand that it don't mean a thing,
The scorpions might attack, but the systems stole the sting.

========================= =========
by the way, i'll rock the kasbah too.
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Joined: 31-January 06
Profile Views: 476*
Last Seen: 20th February 2006 - 04:01 AM
Local Time: Oct 19 2017, 08:30 PM
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Yahoo negative33o
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13 Feb 2006
i don't know how well-appreciated prose is here, because it is sort of hard to read, but i'll put some here in hopes SOMEONE will read it. i wrote it for my Creative Writing class, but didn't get the opportunity to have it critiqued by my teacher so i want to know if it's any good.

GHD stands for Gradual Human Combustion.

The car stank of rust, pot, and hopelessness. The ceiling sagged in like old person skin, making the tiny cab even tinier than it already was. The seats were from all sorts of different cars, nailed down, welded down with crazy nineteen-year-old expertise and in total disregard of placement of seatbelts, or existence of seatbelts at all. The floor was covered in cigarette butts and McDonald’s trash, the occasional Carl’s Junior smiling star or the imposing catchphrases of Burger King poking through the yellow paper. I’d been in this car for days, squished between two people that I’d met hours before we’d left, going down a desert road that led into some Midwestern state that there was no need to name.

It was always so hot in the car. People were constantly arguing to themselves of whether they should endure the heat of clothing or take it off and endure the sticky air and others’ clinging skin to couple the heat on the inside of them. The air-conditioning, all natural, was not sufficient. But we weren’t about to cool down any time soon.

We were all going to die. We knew it. Everybody dies from GHC.

Slumped down in my seat, I looked up at the girl next to me. She must have only been fourteen, but her eyes, which were flitting about the car like an angry bee, seemed crazed with years of torture. She’d stopped talking yesterday. She kept her knees tucked tight to her chest, as if giving the fire more space to spread than making one hard, sharp pain. Her hair was wild, her jeans ripped, her flannel shirt drawn past her hands and bundled up in fists. We’d figured she’d stopped trying to cool down and was now trying to keep it all inside.

None of us were exactly well off, though. She was just smaller, just about to die before all of us. Her day was coming soon, her blood boiling, driving her raving mad.
13 Feb 2006
i have a history of depression in my family, and for the last couple months i've been having a hard time with mood swings. i have all the symptoms of the disorder: aches and pains in the neck and shoulders, apetite loss, sleeping too much, all of it. they haven't taken me to a doctor yet and i'd actually like to have a second opinion before they send me off to the haven of piss tests (scary thought) and blood drawing (scarier thought).

both of my parents are prescribed to wellbutrin.

has anybody had any experience with any sort of medication, becoming prescribed and its afteraffects? is it worth it? does it work? does it change how you act? is it likely i'll have seizures? i'm kind of afraid.

thanks a lot...
31 Jan 2006
i'm new.

...my name is jess.

i like Crass and the Dirty Rotten Imbeciles.

and mittens.

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