As my good friend Bill once said, "The day it all ends is today." And so it is, gentlemen, ladies. I have decided to remove my wit, my self, and my irrationality from 20six. Oh, hush, don't fret. I'll be posting (rarely, mind you) at Stephen's site. I'll put up a link  or something and if you are too lazy to spell hislastname.com. What I"ll probably do to keep the site alive (just in case 20six deletes inactive accounts) is to post random phrases into my poetry section and leave steve's link up in the thoughts, ramblings section. As this is my last post, i'll do away with proper grammar, usage, and mechaniccs entirely.

    But before I go, I have a few things to share with you, all of which came to me at about 5 AM this morning. They sounded cool at the time, so forgive me if they aren't so now. I'll start with the dream.

   So me and the boys are riding along a typical kudzo covered track. We are in search of the coolest haunted house. Why we chose the woods in which to look is beyond me. So we pass each house, and since there are always ridiculous laws of nature in dreams, we saw that each plot of land had sort of a width limit. Each plot was as long as the day, but could only be about 30 feet wide. We passed houses with elongated backyards( all covered with kudzo, the neighborhood was very "foresty"). Trees provided a decent enough backdrop. It was fall and everything was turning brown or gray, no insane color as of yet. We arrived at the place and pulled some crazy manuever to get to the driveway. It reminded me of waiting in line at a theme park: you had to stay in that snaking, roped-off line. This man's driveway was the same. One had to driveabout 90 feet, turn 180 degrees, and then drive towards the house on a road right beside the one we had just ridden on. So we get there, and the haunted house is little more than a front porch. We walk through the front door and we are still outside; there is a roof overhead and viney pillars holding it up. Beyond that there are trees, shrubs and random wilderness. It looks suspiciously like my grandmother's back porch, but there are a few items on it that do away with that feeling completely. There is a single wooden rocking chair with a red button on it's side. There are a few Halloweeny decorations put up, but overall it really isn't that scary. The boys are Billy, Brandon, Dillon/Andrew. I say Dillon/ Andrew because at any given time, either one could be there, but never at the same time. So we press a little red button on this large, plastic, fake-looking skull-and-crossbones suspended from one of the iron viney pillars. A spooky voice tells one of us to sit down and press the button on the chair. I do. Smoke shoots out of the ground and I can't see shet. I'm pretty scared that my douchebag friends will leave me. . .

but thankfully they do not. During the smoke screen , a fattish man came up dressed in what looked like a 10 dollar Wal-Mart rendition of the outfit the murderers in Scream wore--minus the mask. He stood at the edge of the porch, and just looked on. He had a hood, shrouding the top half of his face. He didn't speak. I noticed similar figures moving around in the backyard, occasionally strolling by a break in the foilage. The bright day took away any fear I might have felt. Dillon/Andrew had to take a slam. The group deliberated, consented, and Dillon/Andrew headed north. To what, I can't say. We heard a chainsaw in the distance, and nothing was happening at the porch. The Scary voice had ceased talking, and the Strange man still sat and looked creepily forward. It was about this time that I really had to piss. Hard. Worst ever. The man in the black costume spoke. "Don't you want to see what awaits you outside?" I'm not sure why, but all of my friends jumped up and ran. Brandon ran in the man's direction, Andrew (who I assumed split from Dillon, amoeba-style) and Billy ran the polar opposite direction. I started to run in another completely different direction from any of them, but quickly decided I'd rather not be alone in this strange place. I had the distinct feeling that the man was trying to break us up, maybe to eat us one by one. Anyways, I quickly turned around and caught up to Billy and Andrew. WE heard the chainsaw louder this time, and I began to fear for dillon. It was at this point that Dillon, being an undercover operative for numerous governments, dropped out of a tree wearing a camoflauged maske and a wife beater.

"What took you guys so long?"

He was all alert and ready to go. It was at this time that Andrew left us. Not walked away, but kind of dissolved physically. Andrew was part of Dillon again--that is, they were the same person. So we ran on, passed a shed ( a shed EXACTLY like the one in my grandmother's backyard--interesting) and came upon a huge downed limb about the size of a full grown tree. It lay beside an enormous oak and had the sheared look of having lost in a battle with a chainsaw. It was then that Brandon ran up to our group, making us four again. A gigantic man with a buzzing saw swinging crazily above his head came out from behind the tree. We stopped running, clenched our fists, and shot a quick glance at each other.

Brandon said, "Let's kick his ass."

So I woke up and my bladder was burning. It was 5 AM and boy did I have to take a monster piss. I stumbled with my eyes closed to the bathroom. During the release, I thought how scary that dream could have been, but how funny it was. I anticipated it to return when I closed my eyes to go back to sleep, and I dreaded that. Dreams like those can turn scary pretty fast. So I stumble back to the bed, and closed my eyes. I then thought of two things.

The first was: why didn't we make a production screen for Risk-y Business? I mean, Universal has one, 20th Century Fox has one; why not deutsch-bag Productions? So I snuggled under my covers and began to think of one. So you've got the 5 makers of the movie: Bill, Rob, B, Al, and Xack all doing there own thing (BTW, this production screen only lasts about 10 seconds). I'm now going to borrow a format I saw on Xack's site. THANKS XACK.

Camera 1: Xack's camera--Xack is pumping iron in a gym, he looks intense for a very short period...(MUSIC BEGINS TO PLAY: FLIGHT OF THE VALKYRIES, BY RICHARD WAGNER) but then realizes something is calling to him, he slightly cocks his head with a look of puzzlement. It is replace with a moment of epiphany. He runs off camera.

Camera 2: Al is fly fishing on a summer's day. He's wearing a wife beater. He also looks intent on what he is doing. He experiences a look of puzzlement, the epiphany, he throws down his rod and sloshes off camera

Camera 3: Rob is wearing glasses and a wife beater, he is perusing a book. Identical (to xack and Al)puzzlement and epiphany looks cross his face. He throws down his book and runs off camera.

Camera 4: Bill is looking at himself in the mirror. Wife beater. He hears something calling to him, he cocks his head. He looks introspective, puzzled. Looks up at himself in the mirror in a moment of blinding realization, in awe. He runs off camera.

Camera 5: Brandon is squishing cans in a wife beater. He is about to stomp on a huge stack when he stops, looking puzzled. Feeling as if something is calling to him. He has internal deliberation, and looks up, in sudden realization. he runs off camera.

Camera 6: Switch to action shot of the 5 young men, donned in wife beaters, running towards the sunset, the camera to their backs. They suddenly stop, and the camera view switches to a FRONTAL shot of all 5 boys, showing their faces; they are staring intently at something. Individual shots zip by.

Individual shot 1: Xack covers his mouth with both hands.

IS 2: Al Covers his ears with both hands

IS3: Rob covers his eyes with both hands.

IS4: Bill looks confused for a VERY short period. He recovers with confidence, and plugs up his nose with two knuckles, one from each hand.

IS5: Brandon Slaps his forehead, but does not remove his hand.

Camera 6: the 5 dudes in their poses during the individual shots. The screen turnsbright white, and 'deutsch-bag productions' appears in black, superimposed on the white screen. Thunder is heard, and Flight of the Valkyries fades out.

With that project complete I began to think how cool it would be to make a haunted house. I was still snuggled under my covers, and before I allowed myself to drift off again I thought of how to make a really scary haunted house. OK, so you guys might make fun of me, but i think it would be a good idea. Allow 4 people to come in at a time, but slowly separate them. That is, have 4 different paths through the house. Don't separate them all at once. Maybe at the beginning have two doors. Make one person branch off at different intervals. Not only would you be able to scare the shit out of someone ( people who fly solo in haunted houses are much easier to scare) but participants would be able to go through 4 more times and still experience new things. Kind of a "collect-all-the-horrors" situation. Regardless of what you think, I still though at 5 AM this morning, that it would be very cool. Oh, yeah, and have them join up at the very end, so they could all finish together. Bad idea? Great Idea? Boo knows.

Well, with all that having been said, I"m going to leave this place. Worry not, I'll still post from time to time at Stephen's site, which I will supply a link to after I post this rubbish. So, to all my fans, goodbye, farewell, don't call, don't write (me).

<b> Time</b>

I've discovered that, though I've lived for roughly 19 years, I've only been aware for approximately five minutes. I've been sifting through my memories, and, without writing them down, I realize I've forgotten an alarming amount of 'living' I've done. Does this feeling pervade anyone else? I almost feel as though I've been wasting time, living and consuming but not <i>producing</i>. All this came to me quite recently, as I've sat down to consider just how fast the last few months have been. I recall that my summer before entering AUM as a freshman was nothing special, as it moved sluggishly and was mostly filled with work and sleep. Upon entering college, however, time sped up like a rolling billiard ball, and I feel my body being thrown towards some black oblivion, corner pocket. August, September, and October have flown by, disregarding my protests. Perhaps it's because I dread Mondays and Wednesdays, the days I go to AUM. I wait solely for those days of the week to come and pass, and when they do, I begin the dreading process all over again, and so the days leading up to the two bleak, undesirable days full of work fatigue now fill up my life. Two days. Maybe these "four day weekends" aren't as great as I once anticipated. They seem to drain my life, a leech that invades my peaceful limbo on a weekly basis.

More will come later. I'm too busy at the moment to type much more.

Deleted!???! Yes, sadly it had to have been so. I inherently distrust humanity, and I also plan on entering the story in a 'writers of the future' contest so I just couldn't leave it up. Come on! Stop yelling at me, I'm only human. The least you can do is wish me luck. Geez Louisiana.

Anyways, my posts have been shitty and far-spaced and will probably continue to be so, say thank ya. This college gig is no cake walk. But anywho, Hailey I think (THINK) you are incorrect about the whole R.E.M. body paralysis thing, but I'll look it up to verify. You know how I love to make people look like fools. I'm just kidding! I just have a thing for veracity. Ya?

Ok well I'm out of here. Don't worry about commenting on this slice of shit, as I know it's boring (like a woodpecker) and stupid.

Peace to you and yours.

Last night, September 19th, Castor died in my hands. When I came home from school today (September 20th), Pollux was pale and stiff. He died sometime between 12 P.M.  and 2:30 P.M.

They were baby squirrels, born during the hurricane, and the tree in which they were nesting was blown to the ground. I assumed care of the squirrels. They hadn't any fur and their eyes were sealed shut, like a fetus in the womb (which wasn't too odd, considering their pink flesh and almost transparent body). Their death wouldn't be so agonizing to me had not I tried so hard to nurture them and keep them alive. I felt like their damn mother.

I named them after the Gemini Constellation, the Twins. Castor was the mortal twin, and Pollux was the immortal twin. I named them after Castor the squirrel died, in a feeble attempt to assure myself that Pollux the squirrel was akin to the mythological Pollux: Immortal, undying. I didn't bury them or throw them away; I placed them in a bush in my front yard. It is a bulky bush with an almost impenetrable facade. Maybe they are better off Divine.

It was dream, though I didn't know until my eyes opened and greeted reality. Thank God for that.

I was walking home from a friend's house, and the moon was new. I had stayed over as late as I could without spending the entire night. In fact, I was asked to stay the night. I declined, though, as a walk seemed more intriguing and the night infinitely more inviting. I walked outside where I witnessed a large green frog jumping across a darkened and dew strewn lawn. I began to walk. My memory of the walk is obscure,as were the shapes in the night. I remember nothing as clearly as when, quite abruptly, deep in the shadows far-flung from the route I had chosen on my wayfaring trek, I saw a road. Obscured by darkness and looking rather new (and dare I say intriguing) I decided to take a chance. Hell, I wasn't expected home anytime that night. The road cut deep into a dense forest, housing mostly pines and ground-scrub of indeterminate species. It looked only slightly used and was covered thickly with brown pine needles. No creature stirred as I approached the road; in the dark, the entrance gaped like the mouth of a beast. I walked in and was swallowed. I ambled along, not really caring where I was going, winding with the twists and bends in the pine-needled track. I kept to the side so as to remain hidden from the occasional truck that rumbled down the road from the opposite direction. In truth, the headlights of these occasional vehicles lit my way; without those headlights, I would have found myself hopelessly lost. Curiously enough, I never did see a car approach from my side of the road; perhaps the entrance I discovered was a secret. The road took a sharp right and began going uphill. Here I encountered yet another truck and bumbled off the road in such a haste as to get a sharp branch in my gums.

Trucks. Only these and nothing more.

The road became increasingly narrow, eventually only allowing enough room for one-way traffic. And still, all of the traffic came from the same direction. All trucks. The forest was becoming darker, and I heavily relied on the headlights of oncoming vehicles to guide my way. The synthetic comfort of the street lamps still lay on the main road, miles away. No sound but the crunch of needles under my feet and the occasional rumbling engine.

Bright light blossomed over the top of the hill, and I quickly spun myself to the side of this increasingly unsettling road. The light was broad but soon focused and two glaring headlights arched over the hill and began to descend. Only this time the truck had company. Pair after pair of accusing headlights came up and over the hill. No less than 4 trucks (same color, same model) whisked down the hill, and as they passed I noticed the bed of each was filled with wooden saw-horses and large spotlights. Before I had much of a chance to bemuse this oddity, three tractors trundled up and over the apex of the hill. I smelled hay and oil as they came by. I went unnoticed by the caravan.

Despite my intuition, despite the peculiarity of the situation, and because I'm a fool I continued up the hill, pausing long enough to cast a look back and see the last flash of a tractor's tail-light vanish into the murk of the forest around me. It was hard to see the road in front of me, and I guessed my way to the top of the hill.

The road ended at the top of the hill. It went for ten or so feet and ended abruptly in a large circle. The trees stood at the edge of this circle, gently swaying, mocking me with their branches. Fear stabbed like and ice pick and every one of my pores exploded with a cold dread. I looked behind me, and realized I couldn't make out a path. I turned in a circle, not knowing where to go, what to do. The stars were hidden by the trees. I ran through the brush, knowing I would never find my way out. I would never be found. Alone, hysterical; I crashed relentlessy through the forest, looking for the break of day.

***I had that dream on the night of September 13, Monday. I can honestly say it was the most vivid, and perhaps most frightening dreams I've ever had. Tell me what you think.****

Come one, come all: Come see the freak-show that is my weblog.

Hello again, folks.

Well let me begin with...David: Blackmail? Hardly, my good man. I really have no problem admitting that I spent half the day walking around AUM with you, but I must admit that was the most boring part of my day; my apologies for having left that part out of the day's synopsis. Really, I meant no harm.

Moving on, fans, I would like to apologize for my absence; even four classes of college can take up a good chunk of time. I honestly didn't expect it to be that long. But with my return comes something worth the wait! Oh yes!

Risk-y Business, the clandestine movie event of the summer of 2004 that no one (mostly no one...actually I think most everyone knew of it. Damn our womanly ways of secret-keeping) was aware of. For those of you who are uninformed, the premiere of this thrilling film is Thursday, September 9, 2004. Bring a friend, bring your whole damn family; everyone's welcome. The location is none other than the Skelton Household Basement. The evening promises to ring with champagne, laughter, and good times. Minus the champagne, of course.

Currently I'm mired in essays etc., so any entries will be few and far between. I'm sorry about all this, but with great power comes great responsibility...You know, that was such a shitty ploy to give this Log a purpose, I'm just going to fucking stop before I start egregiously misquoting other misplaced quotes. Sorry, fans, I'm still working on the whole "sailor's mouth" thing. What a stupid entry this has been. Fuck.