|Reading these suicide pages you will find people seeking help and people offering their help. Some witness about suicide from real life experience, others who play along with me would pretend it's a children's game. Some make sick and cruel jokes about it, and angry people blame me for even mentioning the subject. You might also want to read my favourite answers. If you want your answer to be included here, fill in the form.|
What is the best way to kill yourself when you're under 13?
Quelle est la meilleure forme de suicide pour les moins de 13 ans?
|27 Mar 2004||Max||"A Chinaman
went to sleep
dreamed he was
when he awoke,
he asked himself,
Am I a butterfly
dreaming that I am a man?
I love this quote, despite the fact that some people might think it corny. Do you know that you have control over what is real and what is not far more that you believe you do? (Although you might at first say obviously not, on account of how this is worded, that is not entirely true.)
|24 Mar 2004||Kylie Minogue||Your life feels different to you, once you greet Death and understand your heart's position. You wear your life like a garment from the mission bundle-sale ever after ---
lightly because you realize you never paid for it,
cherishingly because you know you won't ever come by such a bargain again.
|17 Mar 2004||Chris||Negative writing, a lot of times, actually constitutes a lot more creativity. It is interesting to watch a writer going through the weaving of trying to tell why something sucks without just saying that it sucks. To say why something is great, somehow takes less creativity.
My dear elaine: me, you, billy the freak, anyone else who writes on this site? We're all saying the same thing actually but me and you and the 'gang' (a term which I don't like but I used because you did) weave the words so that anyone who reads our stuff will realise that life is shit while others say it's outright shit. So to say the truth no one's story here is worth telling cos it's all the same shit! Just one satement I didn't like: "I'm talking complete shit" because you aren't. You're just expressing your thoughts, saying the truth and being honest, and there's nothing better than being honest. Yes, charity and good as written in the bible really exists, but only from a girl like you who's got the balls (excuse the biological pun) to be fucking honest...
... for those who are not honest are full of dirty little secrets, and dirty little secrets introduce you to blackmail.
I think there are things you should know about blackmail, in case it comes tapping at your door. There's what it does to you, and then there's what it makes you do. I used to think I knew what I could be made to do.
Blackmail doesn't work the way I always thought it would, if I ever gave it a thought. It doesn't smash through the clean pane of a life like a stone through a window. It's always an inside job, the most intimate of crimes. Somebody in the house has left that little window open, just a snick. The person who leaves the window open doesn't know why. Or else doesn't want to know. From outside a hand reaches into the gap, and the window creaks wide. Cold air comes rushing in. I see that hand now, each time I shut my eyes to sleep. Sometimes it's heavy and alien, the hand of a stranger. I can count the hairs on the knuckles. But on other nights I feel the fingers move and I know they are my own.
You have to search for the person who left the window open, down all the alleys of yourself. In the end you'll get there. You'll learn how you betrayed yourself in the moment that seemed like any other moment. Solution? Don't be too self-centred and egoistic. You think you can cope on your own but you will only end up hurting yourself.
When blackmail comes into your house you can learn to live with it, feeding it as little as you dare, trying to guess what it will take to make it go away before it gets too big. Then you begin to realize that it will never go away. The more you feed it, the stronger it grows. Why should you feel guilty unless you've got something to hide? Why should you be afraid? Watch me shake out your life in front of you. You know what's in there, don't you? See what comes.
Some blackmailers just want money. That's frightening, but at least you know where you are, and that a wad of used money is what you are talking about. I haven't got money.
The others put on pressure without letting you know what they want. They steer you where you don't want to go, but in a way that's so intimate you have to give in. They know more about you than you know about yourself. The pressure comes from what they don't say. They wait and wait until you can't wait anymore, and you'll do anything to know why they've come. It begins to seem like freedom.
When blackmail comes tapping at the door, get up and open it. There'll be no one there. Just the yawn of a black night, with wind in it but no stars. Already there's wind hurrying through the house, licking the back of your knees as you stare out. Where is it coming from? That window at the back. Someone's around there already and through the slender gap like an eel. Already the curtains are whipping up, the doors are buckling, and the floorboards pitch and toss like the planks of a boat.
The wind blows harder and your house begins to move on a sea that was always there, beneath the crust of the land. And you're afraid, but you are already beginning to move with it. I'm afraid, very afraid... but not from you my dear elaine. Throwing shit at me feels so good! It's when the 'sweet', 'virgin', 'friendly' girl from inside my house comes to give me a gentle hug and kiss that I start to feel threatened and afraid... cos I know that blackmail is near. So please, just bring your criticism on. Make me feel safe... And anyways, like Billy the Freak, your writing makes me horny!
Yours Truly: Chris! (and yes, like you, I wrote and took your statements at the end of another god damned bad, fucking, hell of a day well out of context of life- cos I'm only existing- and I really don't know if my thoughts are egoistic. What I know is that I'm a very, very angry person, fucked in the head, schizophrenic, and mental, and this time I had to get it out somewhere, on someone... before I go crazier)
See ya all... I don't know when, where or how!
|16 Mar 2004||billy the freak||man-o-man elaine the vigorous insight you spoke in your last entry made me horny... are you cute? i bet you are.
now chris, putting people down, because they may not be as creative as you isn't right.
however, i enjoy your posts immensely and they do spit flames on to the board. i blame myself for the lackluster in the kit, i wish i could post more often.
joe lee, all i can say is you are one sick fuck i thought i was twisted. i read your post about going to hell and laughed so hard the pepsi i was drinking came out my nose.
and last but not least kids, have you realized that mouchette is not just a message board, but a interactive piece of art? well, more like an art gallery that not only lets you enjoy what you're seeing but will often ask your opinion. look everywhere. and check out the links in the m.org.ue some are pretty interesting.
"come play with me" says mouchette. captivated by her beauty i can't help but frolic through her halls.
|13 Mar 2004||billy the freak|| a friend of mine commited suicide yesterday. i helped him. i knew he was going to do it. it was obvious when the day before he gave me his playstation2 and all his games.
"here billy. i know you been saving up to get a playstation2, just hold on to the money, you can have mine."
"wait a minute. you're giving that to me?"
"you're not going to come back here next week and say you want that shit back."
"no. just enjoy it as much as i did."
i knew then he was going to snuff it. that playstation was his pride and joy. he got lost in those games so he didn't have to think about the real world. a streetlight went on in my vacant lot of a mind.
"man, it's about time cid."
"about time for what?"
"you know. you decided to kill yourself right."
"don't try to talk me out of it billy. i made up my mind."
"i wouldn't do such a thing. i agree with you.
"you want me to die."
"no. you want to die and i support your decision. i mean, your girlfriend left you, your mom and dad both died in a car accident on the way to bail you out of jail for public drunkeness, you lost your job, oh and didn't somebody poison your dog? yeah, i would want to die too."
he sat down and started to cry. he filled up about a bucket and a half with tears. he just kept saying i wanna die... i wanna die... and pounded the side of his head. he was breaking down. it was time to put my plan into action.
"so when did you want to do it cid?"
"i was going to do it tomorrow afternoon."
"well okay, but let me ask you something don't you think that if you were going to take the dive wouldn't you want to do it it the most pleasurable way possible?"
"what do you mean?"
"well what makes you happy cid?"
"i haven't been happy in a long time billy."
"what's made you happy in the past."
"well, my mom and dad always put up a pinyata on my birthday as a kid. i always was happy on my birthday."
"that's it cid."
"i'll tell you at the dinner, let's get a hamburger my treat."
i told him that i could make his last moments as happy as possible for a price.
he gave me access to his bank account. i cleaned it out. hell he didn't need it! i set his suicide up with with a birthday theme. we had a party on the apartment roof. no one came except me and and a bum who was happy to get free beer. i got some cake and ice cream, party hats, banners, gifts, and everything to make his last birthday special. the finishing touch was i turned him into a human pinyata so when he hit the ground he would bust open and candy and small toys would pour out.
"wow billy, i didn't know i could be so excited about death."
"hey with me you get your dollars worth. any way it's your birthday you deserve to be excited."
"billy thanks for everything but today is not my birthday, it's my deathday"
he started to laugh. i started to laugh. the bum started to laugh because everyone else was laughing. the moment was surreal. he must have thought it was time to go because he blew out his candles and stood on the edge of the roof and fell into eternity. i looked down and saw that the christians already showed up. they helped themselves to the candy and and munched on the thought that cid went to hell and in the bitter sweet moment i realised that I was going to hell.
|08 Mar 2004||elaine||Nice job Chris, for critisizing the rest of the world who can't help being dull in their agony, even if it is self centered and fake. I'm sure i'm just in a terrible mood and will regret taking it out on you soon, but honestly, find your buzz somewhere else. Mouchette.org isn''t here to entertain YOU, it's here for people to tell their stories and find sympathy and compassion in others. Imaginary or no.
I take that back. It's here for people to give mouchette advice on elements to include in her revolutionary new toy. Except people have turned it into a "typical" suicide message board. Maybe because they need that?
Maybe. Get over yourself and your witty stories, not everyone can measure up to the likes of you and the "gang" but they don't deserve your scorn.
Yes, i'm taking your one little statement at the end of another god damned entry way of out context and taking too much from it. I guess i'm just bothered by people's innate tendancy towards self-absorption. Does it bother you?
It kills me.
This isn't a new thought, but occurs to me that an obsession with suicide is really an obsession with oneself turned morbid. "People dont love ME. I'M ugly. I will always be alone. ME." Your parents/significant other beats you, reason to be sad, maybe. But get out, just leave. You're depressed for these reasons because you see the way they can do that to you as a reflection of your own personality. And so back to ME.
And maybe that's just me, but that's how i see the thoughts i used to have about suicide as. And i see it reflected every day in almost everyone close to me who hates themselves and wants to die. My friend who's impatient again at the hospital for cutting herself, my friend who wants to die because a girl doesn't love him, so many more their stories are all the same' it's not worth telling.
I'm talking complete shit, but i know it must bother someone else. It drives me crazy, how i can't step outside my own world and my own concerns even for a minute. Ulterior motives, is charity like they speak of in the bible real?
I give up. I'm sorry to have started that way. I'm sorry to post this, but some things need to be said before I go crazy. ME. Again. I wonder if someday i'll be able to understand my own hypocracy. No, not understand. Take. I wonder if some day i'll be able to take my own fucking egoism.
|06 Mar 2004||Chris||Someone performed a favour for me the other day and when I thanked him he replied: "no problem, it was the least I could do". Read that again out loud and then think about what he actually told me. Have you come to the same conclusion as I did... he had analysed all of his options, thought about everything that he could have done for me, sorted out every alternative and discarded every last one except the very least. Yes, what he so proudly told me was, that of all the things he could have done as a favour for me, the one that he chose was the minimum that he could get away with, while still saying that he had done something. Of course what he meant was, more less, the exact opposite of what the bare words really mean and he became suitably flustered (enough to amuse me anyway) when I asked him what the most he could have done would have been.
Anyway, because I have little else to think about, I took to pondering other common phrases, for example what do you know for sure about the phrase 'with all due respect'? I can tell you that in ninety nine point nine per-cent of cases what will follow those words, when they are directed at you, is proof that the speaker thinks that no respect is due to you at all. He will promptly tear to pieces; a) your opinion, b) your character or c) your appearance. What springs to mind when someone prefaces what they are to tell you with these words: 'to tell the honest truth...' as opposed to the barefaced lies and cunning half truths that they normally tell you? Ask yourself why, if this is an honest person speaking, does he or she feel compelled to convince you that what they are telling is true... But then, normal people are all the same: big, fat, happy liers who want to live through the next twenty-four hours, make cash out of your simplicity and cover their weirdness and shit under the cover of love and art, making us feel suicidal all the time!
Finally, to a different subject but still related (loosely) to words... mouchette.org has descended into, how shall we say, obnoxious, weird, repetitive words! I read everyone's posts and I understand and sympathise with everyone of you... but you're all saying the same thing! There were times when I was criticised because of my writings, but come tell me that now! We need to put some zest and life back into mouchette.org or it will become just like all the other suicide boards. Felicia The Great, Billy The Freak, Phil, take note (and come back) and for God's sake Dr.Jelly, either release Joe Lee from the physchiatric ward or at least just let him use the internet service, cos we need him! (Whatever you do, just keep him off any kind of medication, he's more sane without it than with it, we all are...)
See ya in an (ironically) livelier mouchette.org...
|18 Feb 2004||Dr. Jelly||To whom it may concern:
Mr. Joe Lee is a patient of mine who recently suffered a massive psychotic breakdown. He sneaked into staff's lunge on several occasions using the internet service. We are currently keeping him locked up so as to stop his demented internet advices.
Learning from Mr. Lee's medical records, he have a long history of characteristic roleplaying. Mr. Lee once stole a white coat and impersonated a doctor in our clinic and treated patients. (while the real doctor was on vacation) As a result of his treatments, five out of seven patients commited suicide. Mr. Lee never recieved any professional medical trainings, and he is in no position to answer any questions.
We are very shocked at his reckless behaviors, apparently he is shocked too... literally shocked, in shock therapy. He will be locked away for a long time until his next mental evaluation.
Please accept our sincere apologies,
Je l. ly, MD
|12 Feb 2004||Bryan||If you ask me the best way to kill yourself would be to become a writer... excuse me try to become a writer. Even better think of yourself as a poet. Only write poetry. Amass enough poems for a book, photocopy them, attain addresses for publishers of this type of genre and just wait. Fill in your time betweeen with the ordinary daily activities people call life, or attempt this. Because you know you will fail. After months of no replies and actually enjoying delving into emotions, thoughts, even worlds you never knew existed. You become an addict, spending hours describing how the light reflects in splendor between two panes of glass, or how a soldier has to euthanize a friend with a mortal wound. Once entrapped in this creative paradox your mind will split into two camps, one mystified by the new world you have found in poetry and the other bitterly fighting off the enticement of death from all the rejection. By the time you want to share your creative endeavors with someone, you will find no one... and soon it will be over. I know this isn't the shortest process, but i believe will be successful eventually|
|12 Feb 2004||Joe Lee||I killed myself last week, I am sending this email from hell. Let me tell yall, hell is not too bad at all. It's about 69 F all year round with cable TV and universal internet access. Yes, you can send email to the devil making suggestions... but most likely you will get an auto-reply telling you "Go fuck yourself!"
The devil is building a brand new casino and whore-house down here with human skulls. Very psychedelic and hiphop, with architecture Frank L. Wright making the blue print... He sure did a great job making the transition from the building to the environment.
Also, arts' greatest... Picasso is waiting for you. His bloody paintings are as good as they get now days. His recent project is making heaven in hell!
My favorite is 'Holy Angels getting sued from raping a bloody whore in the hell's court' - a 3 dimensional painting made from cow intestine and Picasso's own bloody-shit!
You pussies really don't want to die don't you? Fuckin eh! Mentally weak bastards too weak to die or live.
Making pussy ass comments such as " Oh, I really want to kill myself, my life is shit, I feel soooo depressed... blah, blah, blahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!"
You sure have a lot of fucking time to write on this shit, JUST DO IT ALREADY!!
Fuck, it's for your own good. You little 13 year old pussy shit piss me off. If only I know where you live, I will go over take my shotgun and blow your fucking head off. Then... I will fuck your aesophagus or your airway or whatever them anatomical neck-holes called. Then... I will jizz and pee inside your lung, stomach, or whatever them damn holes connected into.
That's how a real man or woman die! with the first class ticket to hell.
If you hurry, you might make to the grand opening ceremony of devil's whore-house with guest singer Elvis and Jimi -devil's child- Hendrix... Finally you can see Hendrix smash his guitar and pour gasoline on someone's head!
What the hell you might say? Yes, I am in hell mother fuckers!
|07 Feb 2004||Leonardius Mackellar||Something wonderful has happened to me. i was caught up in 7th heaven. There sat all the gods in assembly. By special grace i was granted the privilege of making a wish. "Wilt thou," said Mercury, "have youth or beauty or power or a long life or the most beautiful maiden... or any of the other glories we have in the chest? Choose, but only one thing." For a moment i was at loss. Then i addressed myself to the gods as follows: "Most honorable contemporaries, i choose this one thing, that i may always have the laugh on my side." Not one of the gods said a word; on the contrary, they all began to laugh. From this i concluded that my wish was granted, and found that the gods knew how to express themselves with taste; for it would hardly have been suitable for them to have answered gravely: "Thy wish is granted." ~Soren|
|05 Feb 2004||Chris||Recently I was enthroned in the bathroom which, for reasons obvious to anyone who has been unlucky enough to follow me in, is the one place on earth where I am left undisturbed, and my gaze wandered to the contents of the shelves. I am not referring to the books and magazines which I always like to have at hand, I did say this is a place of peace and retreat for me as well as the functional. I mean the dozens of bottles, canisters, jars, etc which we all seem to need to make ourselves presentable. And a thought struck me... how come with half of the world starving do we have so much fruit and veg in our shampoos and soaps. I am sure that my bathroom is pretty average and really taking a close look I was amazed at the sheer variety of flavours on offer. From the mint in the toothpaste the list grows and grows; lemon, lime, pineapple, coconut, orange, cucumber and dates, and that's just the shampoos. I am not counting Aloe Vera or Jojoba because I really don't know what they are or if they are edible but they certainly form a big part of my mother's beauty regime judging by the number of products which include them as ingredients. Then there are the soaps, creams and ointments which boast cherry, blueberry, primrose, oil, carrot, yes carrots in the soap! There is even a bottle of chocolate bath bubbles but that is mine, and I'm saving it for emergencies. There are various other things which claim essence of this and that but again I'm not sure what they are. There is also a packet of scented (camomile) toilet paper, the function and practicality of which even defies my odd imagination and I'm not even touching the realm of air fresheners and things which make water turn blue in the toilet bowl. The fact is our bathrooms are host to more tastes and aromas than Harrod's Food Hall but that's not it... they all claim to be able to do their various tasks with sound effects... the soap 'zings'! The shampoo puts 'zest' into your shower! The sprays 'zap'! And the bleach 'blasts'... now I think about it, the bathroom has stopped being my peaceful refuge but it has become a terrific place to dream up recipes... Maybe that will put my mind off suicide!
See ya all in the bathroom!
|03 Feb 2004||Joe Lee||I might have written something more than what I am willing to share on my normal days. The truth is that I have been off medication over the years, which in fact I should have probably stayed on. I have multiple personalities or combination of psychological characters. Only one thing seem constant for five out of seven personalities is - great interest in death.
I do not encourage suicide or go against it.. simply do whatever you have to. But sometimes simply endure your sufferings can be philosophically enjoyable.
I have woken up in the middle of the night bleeding from cuts made from invisible enemies. People calling whom I don't even remember. Only pictures could bring back some memories, but where are people in these pictures now? Ironically, society seems to favor the physically attractive, thus I always seems to have someone who can tolerate the kind of shit I throw at them.
I am tired of people,
So tired of this world,
Medication bottles brings back painful memories... a reminder of that I have seen three psychiatrists in my life.. Three! Well, I don't know about you, but I feel that could be an indication that I am mentally ill.
I certainly don't think of myself as crazy or psychotic, that's why I don't take medications. After all, why should a normal person take medications? But anyway, I am not crazy.
Sometimes it feels like a dream, but it turns out to be reality or is it vice versa?
Well, it's pretty bad if nightmares turns into reality... Like days ago, I had this dream turned into nightmare, in which I punched a friend inflicting severe damage. Not even a prior argument before the fight, but I just started punching and thinking like a boxer. Then yesterday, I saw his bruised up face and realized it was a reality... not very cool, it was a reality-nightmare all over again. Living under layers of paradoxical dimensions... I already lost myself... maybe this is hell?
Sitting in a slow rising roller coaster ride to insanity, I have already moved beyond the realms of suicidal thoughts and unsuccesful attempts. And all of me are still very excited to see what's like over the top. How powerful of an psychotic multiple personality torture can one endure, maybe pluge direct into the hell or something less harsh, who knows?
Kids, trust me... before suicide, first finish your education, read some books, enjoy some aspects of life. Then you can start your psychotic roller coaster ride in life... you will fucking love it when you move past the point of no return.
By the way, I didn't get any Chinese new year's money, but I do know how to play poker or yatzhee. I gotta be the only Chinese in the world who is like that... Damn you, who are you? For all the things you could have said, you said yatzhee, which I kinda like it. You just want to see me kill myself don't you? Damn, I feel so weird, probably being the only Chinese in the world saying that I kinda like yatzhee. I should probably ckeck myself into the labour camp one of these days.
|03 Feb 2004||doraine||tonight is the night for me. I am not a fighter you see but in amerika there are radio stations who will call people into the ring and give them 90 to box out anger. I am scared because I don't box. I will do it though. I am on 2000 mg of Depakote and 20mg of Zypreza and doctors say my mind still functions at rates they have never seen. OH MOUCHETTE what does this mean? Everwhere I live everything is familiar- strange times we are in and I feel like Sam Taylor Coleridge back from the dead and I am drunk on the milk from mother earth's tit. I might die tonight but hey I win a prize. no real gas chambers just radio waves. In life or death I CHOOSE LIFE, and tonight I will fight for real in a boxing ring with another woman to save people I love that are being looked over. DON'T DIE TONIGHT PEOPLE: re.live with me and give me power not to die as I enter the ring of radio death. RADIO KILLED THE VIDEO STAR. digital killed the video star. Who am I?|
|26 Jan 2004||Felicia Born in the Monkey Year||Hi Joe Lee,
Happy New Chinese "Year of the Monkey" to you too. People call me lousy because they think that people born in this monkey year is tricky and hard to fool.
I get tricked all the time and I am made a fool of most of the time. And being a Gemini too is a lot worst. Now everybody says I am tricky, hard to fool, and two faced.
All I need is a cheer up and some chinese new year money to come my way. But I haven't been to Vegas yet and don't know how to play poker or yatzhee. I don't know how to play chess either and scrabble for that matter.
Sad. Sad. Sack. Oh well.
|24 Jan 2004||Joe Lee||Welcome to China where life isn't worth a dime unless you are foreigners!
The ten ranking for the value of human life in China for the year of 2004!
1. United States
3. United Kingdom
7. Japan (price negotiable if you or your parents involved in World War 2)
You should be honored if you are the lucky citizen of these great countries. I welcome you, the citizens of top ten countries come to China and commit suicide! Your life cost a lot! We will have the honor of killing you and your family members. Money doesn't mean anything to you, you deserve only the best way to die. Checks or visa available in 2004 for citizens of France, Japan, Finland, Greece, and Luxembourg.
If you are unfortunately the citizen of following countries:
Year of the monkey is the year for people from destitute countries! We will kill you for almost free if you can ever make it to China. Please prepare your own body bags if you don't want to be made into fertilizers.
And yes, we prepare diverse killing methods way beyond legal boundary for the top ten countries. We are the best in the business of euthanasia if you are too weak to do it yourself. Eu-than-asia... I love this word. aisanahtue - sounds good even if you spell it backwards! Best wishes and hopefully see you soon!
|24 Jan 2004||Joe Lee||I am Chinese!!! I don't know english very well. I am also a Chinese who is depressed, psychotic, narcissistic, or schizophrenic. (sometimes all of the above combined!) I been seeking ways to cure myself without any success.
I saw a psychiatric doctor before, we talked and talked. She told me I am screwed up in the head at first! Then she gave me an IQ test, to her suprise, I have an IQ of a genius. So now she thinks I am just trying to get a date with her, telling me when she will be off work.
I am crazy! I can't think straight!! People don't understand my mental condition, and think that I am just lazy. Don't know how to keep myself busy, how can i do that when I am taking it easy? My psychotic mind is anything but fuzzy!
But after all, it's not like I have to work in order to survive. My life is not too bad till now, probably smooth sailing all the way until I die of a natural cause... DAMN! that's when it hit me, I am a human being! Why can't I be a tree or a rock or a sea turtle? Facing self limitations is the catalyst of my depression, and the reaction goes far beyond depression.
Yesterday I bought some tuna and cod liver. Tuna for my cat and cod liver for myself. As I dined with my cat, I realized that the cat was depressed too. We just stared at each other without talking. Then the cat gave me a determined suicidal look and meowed. So I mixed some sleeping pills, my anti-depressants, two hits of LSD, quarter of marijuana, half bottle of asprin, vitamins, laundry detergent, toilet cleaning products... anything in powder form chopped up together with tuna and cod liver deep fried in fish oil. She ate slowly and walked out the door with a satisfied meow. I plugged my ears not to her painful cries for help, for freedom, for a quick end.
I am very sad and depressed today because that damn cat ate all my pot and dope... and she is still alive. Apparently healthier than before. So the lesson for you kids today, "cats don't have nine lives, but they are sure pretty damn hard to kill"... plus I can't even do my laundry now.
... well kids... very important and implied lesson you should learn from my cat is "DONT DO DRUGS!" because you might becoming an immortal, thus making suicide even harder. So please don't kill yourself by taking drugs. Give them to me! I will suggest other painless ways of suicide for you in return. Free of charge of course, because I am Chinese.
|17 Jan 2004||billy the freak||so i'm sitting in the library making good use of the public internet system. i was thinking up a composition for the kit and fell face first into some writer's block, then it hit me, but it wasn't divine inspiration. it was the horrid odor of the fatso sitting at the terminal next to me. the words van halen stretched across his massive back. soda bottle glasses complemented his acne in a grotesque way. i can only describe him as ugly.
then a doctor comes in. i could tell he was a doctor because he was wearing green scrubs and a long white coat.
i don't remember exactly what he said but it was something like this: "i'm a big important doctor, i need to email my beautiful wife at our big mansion in the hills. i forgot my two thousand dollar laptop at my office. however i don't have a library card, i don't even belong to this library, i'm kinda pressed for time so..."
the librarian said. "sure go ahead i'll let you on even though i didn't let that man over there get on when he didn't have his card last week." i mean, basically thats what they said.
so the doctor comes over and dramatically moves the chair away from the terminal on the left side of me and starts to hop around while he fiddles with the computer.
how can i think with all these distractions? on my right i got stinky pete the whale who loves van halen. on my left i got dipshit the dancing doctor. then dipshit's phone rings not once, not twice, but three times. now everyone in the library is looking at him.
"i'll just take this to the lobby" he said in a voice like superman. thanks for saving us, and it's a hallway asshole. anyway, it was time to take a stand. i grabbed his keyboard and quickly typed www.womenwholovehorses.net bam!, and i hit search. about thirty seconds pass and a older librarian comes by. the look on her face was unforgetable when she saw long dong mr. ed banging barnyard betty.
"who was on this computer?" she asked me as she made the the filthy porn disappear.
"it was that doctor out there in the lobby." i answered with the widest grin.
"you mean out there in the hallway?"
"yeah, the hallway."
"thank you young man."
i gave her a nod as she hurried past me torwards the hallway. now the look on the doctor's face was priceless when the old woman told him they didn't appreciate filth here and and that he would have to leave. one down. now it was time for tubby. but then i saw he was on a website i fancy and figured i would let him enjoy it. but i had to tape about six of them pine tree air fresheners to his fat ass back. everything was fine and i began to write...
|16 Jan 2004||Phil||This is my first time looking at this site for a while now. And ohmygod, Billy, you are BACK!!! Finally escaped from that hell they call the pub, eh?
Yay, I didn't kill myself! I'm still alive and thriving now. Well not exactly, but I have my boyfriend and that's all I need.
I was in hospital around Xmas, and I will share it with you all. The first night there, a young asian doctor was doing his rounds. There was a deaf old man there who had just been in a plane crash. The doc went through the routine questions, until he came to "How are your bowels?" and of course the old man, bless him, could not hear him. So the doc shouted "HOW ARE YOUR BOWELS?!" But because of his strange asian accent, it sounded like he said "HOW ARE YOUR BABBELS?!"
Apart from that there was the lady in the bed opposite us who up until the point she burped, we thought she was just a corpse being stored out of the way. She even apologised and said "Pardon me!"
Then there were the nurses who were shocked at us two boys sleeping in a bed together, but I will tell you more about that soon....
|15 Jan 2004||billy the freak||elaine,
can't stop. are you addicted. claim you only dabble in it. well, jump in head first. it feels good. that's why i do it. lucy is still here. a matter of fact i think lucy is still posting, only as someone else. kill the old to make room for the new i always say. maybe lucy was tired of being lucy. maybe she wanted to change her style and felt she couldn't do it with the name lucy cortina, beautiful big breasted lucy cortina. i guess i can say i miss her too. even though we didn't start on the best of terms. well it is a new year and it is time for new things. i am still a slave to my my job. i'm still drinking and doing drugs. i still have sex with many different women. however, i have decided to grow a beard.
your friend billy