the remains of the day [entries|friends|calendar] g4ym3r [ website | My Website ] [ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

non-linear utility [05 May 2007|10:34pm] [ mood | nerotic ] [ music | kant: between your legs ] deep, dark, uneasy, doleful, comfortless the sun riseth also, but i feel not the lavishing of its infinte bounty. fear me. i am all that is malevolent. how do you like them apples? there is this really erotic line. and yet it stirs not the lion within its den, where it lies, humiliated in submission, depressed into fearing the very attempt to its own honesty. we are breast friends; we nuzzle our breasts together for warmth. like sixty-nine, it is a spoon placed sympathetically, but you can't listen to it any more.  she was worn-out and seeping from a thousand sores, weeping from a thousand boils by the time that i relented. the gaping wounds alone would have been sufficient for me to entrench my legions, like the fingers of a doubting thomas into the wounds of the side of the christ, i didst plunge myself, and my doubts were yet unassailed. i will stop flinching. no. then he'll do it. is that how you get bruises? i've been getting bruised very easily recently; i have bruises all over. and he wants to bukake her with creative juices. in the mouth. and it is just a manic laugh. pickled liver is not what i want. have you done it so far? that kitten is ridiculously cute with the duckling. i do not agree with the next bit. and it is just a manic laugh. i only wash my white clothes. they have such a purity. it is as though the bukkak has been so well absorbed that the purity of its jouissance has spread throughout the shade. i think it is intensely heterosexual. i think you'll have to rinse that one out. why was i laughing? does it just amuse you more? they have fallen apart far to much; to the point where i can take them apart. we should marry her off to someone. is she chaste? is she a slattern? is she well versed in harlotry? 'tis the case. but he loves her for her money. looks like a hooligan. exeunt. 2 comments|post comment

the inscription of the origin [19 Apr 2007|01:31pm] [ mood | engorg'd ] [ music | caucasian - asian ] enjoyment is such a thing made for man i must be collected anon, and mine dominus hast once again failed to illuminatio mea. he has the gait of someone who has just killed someone. no one else feels the need to show me their underwear: why is it you? the insane ramblings of someone who has just been sexually abused ring in mine ears from anna's room. sometimes, to bukkak is all that is needed. but i have already surrendered my desire in that regard. perhaps it is time to enter the breach, and confront the very article of my loth. i have pwn3d 'b0dybu1ld3r' today. the vileness of his grease-smeared pectoralis engorged my deltoids, his skin, taught over the throbbing tissue of his defined gluteous, recalled the sagging dugs of eliot's tiresias, and i found that, contrary to my intention, boshing became impossible. i find the human form, and when found, i find it loathesome to my sensibilities. kevin continues in his designs to rot the very scrota of my lobes. as we 'bibed upon smirnoves, he made obscene gestures of the fist and arm, and then proceeded to demand a game of africa. alas that the vile anna could not be present to witness such depravities. my stain included madagascar, and thus was i victorious, as napoleon at marenco. could my collection be my waterloo? could it? no no exeunt. post comment

i don't want anybody else [10 Apr 2007|10:02pm] [ mood | melancholy ] [ music | 50 cent - candy shop ] when i think about you i touch myself. and how are you? you ask the vacation has been ever-long and dreary. i am surprised that i have somehow not found the time to write to you, my lovelies. unfortunately the internet at home has been mostly on the fritz, and i would not touch the computers at the library with their jackson-pollock semen-and-pube montage keyboards. a group of young ruffians does raise hell here now and then, and i feel most violated, as if somebody has sodomised me with a crowbar. how dare they enter my safe haven and violate it thusly (the library, not my rectum). often they sit around the computers at the library and look at pornographic or violent content, or often play irritating flash games, while quaffing lager. in the children's library. the library staff are rather old and timid and are reluctant to expunge them, especially since one of the genetic filth amongst the rabble of idiots did assault a librarian a few weeks ago. i shall be returning to college in a week. i have not felt the need to revise, but i have felt the need to see the beautiful blonde girl again. impure thoughts about her have been hounding me quite often. i must confess that today i created an account on 'face book'. i am not sure why it is called a face book, it clearly is not a book. i did look for pictures of the blonde girl and to my delight i found some rather nice ones. of particular interest were the ones in which she was wearing short skirts, so that i could gaze in awe upon her elegant legs. the mighty elephant did trumpet with its trunk in the air, the battle standard was raised, the tower of babel did arise once more, anaconda did pronate its spine. i felt guilty after i had spilt my seed, and cried in disgust. the stains on my jeans were like the stains i now have on my soul. the thought of seeing her again, and perhaps one day seeing her naked, is all that is keeping me alive. without the passion for her, i would probably have already attempted to kill myself by exploiting my nut allergy. i have slowed my rate of imbibation significantly since mother doesn't like it when i get drunk and do bad things. i have only had 5 doubleyoukaydees today. exeunt post comment

and the abyss looked away [14 Mar 2007|01:09am] [ music | judaica - schmusic ] i feel that i have shot my creative juices prematurely apologies for my lack of writing of late. i do feel that i have been beld dry of the will to write. i am now returned to bath, and must once again tolerate the mundane life that i have been cursed with. as such there has not been much to tell, ye faithful. the last week of term proceded with little of import. i have made no progress with regards to the beautiful valkyrie, who i still cannot call by name. for to speak her name would be to show one's arrogance in the face of the gods. as much as my life at home does drain my spirit, i am glad to be away from the friends i had grown tired of, and the unending moans of ecstacy i am plagued with; coming from anna, in her rank bed enseamed with the seed many repugnant clods. although at times i listen to these sounds with utter fascination, drawn to the sirens song. the music is almost percussive, as she is pounded at, with relentless rhythm; i am certain that at times she is played more like an oboe or a flute, at the lips of some fortunate player, the nuances of the tongue resulting in different intonations. at times she is like a cello, at the oscillating bow of a swine, who i am sure has no qualms about satisfying her with pizzicato. oh, the orchestra of my displeasure. enow. i have returned. exeunt. post comment

the tempest lasts longer [07 Mar 2007|12:04am] [ music | feelings of betrayal - japzize ] i must write today unless it is that i vomit tomorrow. are you going to smoke another one? i have been wondering that for a while. and always, always, the answer is yes.  i am pregnant with herne. it bleeds from my eyes, and trickles down my face in wet white trails. i saw her again today. this time, she was stripped, and covered in the oil from a bursting rig. i look up into the mirror into the eyes of a stranger. everybody turns away from the eyes of a stranger. i wish that i could emoticute and purify the black black oil that covers her with the beautious white wiithin me. she is like a swan in an oilslick, desperate to be rubbed all over, to be cleansed. and then i entitted. today i nakeded myself and stared at the monolith of my inadequacy, and for the fourth day, i could not bosh. only if she loves me will i love myself enough to love myself. and kevin saw me, and he no doubt will bring it up as we choke back pint upon pint of jose cuervo tonight. i realised that if i were to brown my low, he would see that too.  i have come into contact with the object of my most morbid disgust. it is the vampyre of my troubled humours. the foul algae anna once more bloomed in the crystal brook of my pleasure. she sat at supper with crevass of her twin dugs gaping, sweating and shuddering before me and i could not summon up the volition to lift the trembling food-trident to my facial labia. mine aortic pump didst palpitate with horror. teach me how to curse. exeunt 2 comments|post comment

for his absence she weeps; she weeps and sighs [01 Mar 2007|01:38am] [ mood | blank ] [ music | brown frequency - virgin sticki ] i take the time to wipe the spatter from my face. we were looking at the photographs on darren's camera today i seem to have missed the one of the man sucking his own cock. and i feel my life will be enhanced if i were to see it. i imagine he is only successful because of the removal of one or all of his ribs. but i do not believe that oral auto-gratification is the way to real-being. in fact, i believe it is the ultimate manifestation of the becoming. we swilled upon bacardi last night, like swine, until kevin's vomit dampened my bedclothes, and for long afterwards. we carried kevin, dribbling all the way, back to the porter's lodge, where he was sick once more. today my hangover sat in my brain like hot lead, like the very katzenjammer itself. i feel that i frequently need to top up the alcohol levels in my sanguine humour, yet i fear upon the possible consequences for my bilious humour. i pwn3d six n00bs today, each one better than the one before, and yet, there is no gratification. i watch the blonde girl come and go in the street below my window, and i see her in the library after lectures. she is my muse; i wish that she may come upon me every night, and every day, until the opus burgeons from my literary loins. the sight of her is enough to stir the lion beneath the hedge, that once i had feared had been cowed by the wolves that surround us; enough to germinate the english oak from the soil of agincourt, the battle i thought i had lost; even the very conception of her image within my mind does summon the hammer of thor from the depths of utgard; churchill would have spat such a large cigar as this; it is as a meercat striving to peer above the heads of the jostling, fur-throng i think about twin hemispheres and find much to satisfy my emotitions. i have been trying to expound the tydhr rune. it eludes me still. and yet i pursue it, as though the dependence of life exists in spite. i theorised about the nature of groups as friends and i stood in gloucester green. they sat  on a bench, and i performed in the best way i could the effort of a caring and devoted friend, but my efforts were misplaced, and still i find myself excluded and alone among so many.  i have been unable to complete more than one coherent thought today. i cannot emoticute with such disparate thoughts conflicting in my mind. i am as bakhtin's heteroglossia, except, that no man shall hear the thoughts inside my head. i shall procede no further until i can develop my content with greater coherency. i tried to bosh. but i was soft. for hours. exeunt. 4 comments|post comment

come closer virgins [25 Feb 2007|10:06pm] [ mood | aggravated ] [ music | my chemical romance - helena ] o all you host of heaven today i woke up pretty late with a hangover. last night i went out for a curry at jamal's (that horrendous place in jericho) with my english-studying comrades. i ingested copious amounts of smirnoff ice. i was annoyed at being forced to decant the liquid into glasses to facilitate their 'pennying' efforts. for those of you not familiar with the phenonenon of pennying, it is the process by which one puts a penny in your drink and you have to 'down' it. 'downing' a drink is where you down it really fast. i believe that this came from the sentiment that if the queen is drowning one would be obliged to save her. of course, i disagree with such royalist notions. i am also disgusted with myself for having yielded to the insistence of my 'peers'. (because of course they are not truly my peers. i am morally and intellectually superior to them) in particular there is a chap called henry who is quite obnoxious, especially when combined with anna, who i personally think is a slut. i am aware that at some point she may read this, but i have made my feelings clear to her right to her misbegotten countenance. this was last night when the smirnoff ice had gone to my head and i was failing to emoticute successfully. i called her a slut and also a harlot; her response to this was to slap my face into a chikken tikka quite vigorously. the fucking slut. i fear now that our tutorials may become most awkward. i think that anna patently has copulated with a number of men about this college; specifically i am aware that henry has been enjoying the bounties of her voluminous labia, in their rank bed enseamed with sweat. i do not necessarily have the ocular proof of the act; i have however heard her moans through the thin walls of this building; 'tis like the wailing of the banshee itself. it keeps me awake on occasion. indeed as i write this very epistle, i am assailed by the low moans gradually increasing to fever pitch. slut. exeunt post comment

glossalalia [24 Feb 2007|10:28pm] [ mood | morose ] [ music | chutzpah - the kletzmer kings ] when will we have begun? i thought for ages about bukkake today. i had always thought that it would be a good idea but now i have been assailed by doubts. surely the woman who is bukakk'd feels levels of degradation and shame? surely a man will never be placed in a situation where this would happen to him? my fantasies about the blonde girl from lectures now make me feel bilious and filthy, like a gall bladder. i can never enact the sacred rite of bukukke with her. it wouldn't be appropriate. should i proceed in spite? now i have deep confusion and insecurity which i cannot see a way to overcome. today i trolled but i didn't enjoy it. i walked in the university parks today. that didn't help, but i believe i will soon purge myself of doubt and emerge resolute. darren's company was an annoyance to me. his breath and feet reeked, and the jose cuervo that we imbibed did not suffice to dampen my olfactory nerves. this holocaust denial of his is also causing a rift between us. objectivism promotes the freedom to deny the holocaust, and yet i believe very firmly in the holocaust. darren has forced me to debate my own intuitionist views by his very illogical anti-semiticism.  i believe. i want to believe. and darren disgusts me, yet i will not tell him. exeunt post comment

intersexuality [23 Feb 2007|10:01pm] the pleasure. the pain. the chafing of my emotions. i was presented with a college hoodie today; it was like a badge of honour. at first i was choked with the swelling of the joy within. then i did recieve an emoticution, and passed judgement most righteously upon my own elation. have i become a conformist bourgeois? the horror. the horror. i feel like i have been raped. i did not have the choice to recieve this gift. my own volition was most cruelly robbed from me by the confines of a courteous society. i did take this token of my own violation and put it in the coffin wherein i store all of my shattered dreams, and near swooned with my strength of feeling. the institution has forced itself upon me in a manner that closely parallels involuntary penetration by a tentacle. furthermore one is reminded of the symbolic violence of bourdieu for it is such that i have suffered. by offering me a symbol of the college's ownership over me in my conformity this 'kindly' person showed me the symbolic violence whihc the college effects upon me every day in the alteration of my habits. one wonders what in any way i ever decide but whether the college drives me constantly towrds its conformist notion of how a student should exist within its cloisters. yet i cannot turn down the gift and the accpetance implies that i will use it and thus i am ever drawn to the conformity which such a gift entails. no. no i must emoticute right now. onto more frugal matters darren has continued to irk me today. as i swallowed my eighth doubleyoukaydee, he began to deny that he had denied the holocaust. i feel my gorge rising and can scarcely stop its progress. why, now, is this happening, when i am most powerless to emoticute? exeunt 2 comments|post comment

poetry of the passion [20 Feb 2007|09:43pm] [ mood | horny ] [ music | linkin park - in the end ] so today i had a massive tete-a-tete with my amigo darren i was a bit upset because darren was denying the holocaust; after this assertion I naturally disparaged the cad. unfortunately he has begun to spread the cruel rumour that i am a homosexual in response to the afoermentioned disparaging. i would dearly like to engage in activities of an amorous nature with a lady this term and it is distinctly unhelpful that they may think i have a passion for the male gender. the only sunlight in my otherwise bleak day was the visage of that fair lady i had previously seen in lectures. i spoke to her today and when i looked in her eyes it was a sight of rare beauty. however there was perhaps a greater beauty in her mammarries which were indeed delectable. obviously one can never let on that one has such feelings about suhc a fair lady; it would be too crude by far. perhaps howvere i can dream of taking ehr by the hand at some point and by pressing it most vigorously. ah that those of us of the elite might engage in the affairs which the more crude members of society engage in. to simpyl take a woman and make her mine would be such a great pleasure; a pleasure i fear i shall not have soon i fear. today i watched some amazing imported dvds of sugar fightjar. i really like the way the main character, kakiri, emoticutes in a way that i can relate to. i am the emoticutioner.  kakiri's sidekick is a really rather attractive female with very large chesticles. the show does often feature scenes of tentacle rape which i find deeply amusing. i like the concept of sexual violation by a tentacle. sometimes i wish that i had multiple really long appendages like those monsters do. i would be like the dr octopus of sex. i boshed one out today, it was really good. exeunt 4 comments|post comment

heart of darkness [18 Feb 2007|12:10am] [ mood | pensive ] [ music | nightwish - i wish i had an angel ] i am a first-year english student at the university of oxford i thought i would create this journal to vent my feelings which are sometimes repressed but always intense, like passion i call myself the emoticutioner because i execute the emotions deep within, with no mercy this morning i woke up with a hangover. the night before i had been drinking aftershock in my room with my roommate kevin. we had just been to see hamlet at the old fire station, and we both felt that it left a lot to be desired. personally i feel that they did not emphasise the oedipal attraction that hamlet has for his mother. i do feel that it is a shame that this is such a taboo in society. there is a clear oedipal subtext to a number of the scenes in the play that did not come across in this production. nevertheless, kevin and i had a good time showing our utter contempt and derision for this play. honestly, that is the last time i waste my time on such drivel, i have an essay due in on monday. i feel good about the fact that i have already written 1000 words of it. i have a crush on a girl with long blonde hair who is in my lectures, but i do not have the courage to go and speak to her. she might have noticed me staring at her. i think i might talk to her on monday, but it might be weird. i don't want to come across as a stalker... exeunt post comment

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