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I'd like to meet:
Go ahead, click it.
Music:
nine inch nails * marilyn manson * tool * superjoint ritual * garmonbozia * mindless self indulgence * 2(one)6 * mushroomhead * pantera * killswitch engage * devildriver * KMFDM * ministry * system of a down * staticX * hanzel und gretyl * slayer * peeping tom * pop will eat itself * dope * genitorturers * the doors * led zepplin * down * eminem * dr dre * snoop * *sirius satellite radio * bile * ministry * kitchen knife conspiracy * lords of acid * alice in chains * stone temple pilots * courtney hate * bile * fucking lamb of goddamn god * state of conviction *nine inch nails.
Movies:
natural born killers * fear and loathing in las vegas * 300 * resevoir dogs * dogma * boogie nights * creepshow * sin city * national lampoons christmas vacation * texas chainsaw massacre * party monster * requiem for a dream * grass * from hell * house of 1000 corpses/the devil's rejects * weapons of ass destruction * beetlejuice * anything with chris farley except for that dumb-ass ninja bullshit * hostel * KILL BILL * i hate star wars * i hate popcorn * these are the movies i really love. i didnt want to waste 5 days just writing ones i have seen. personally, i think most movies are terrible.
Television:
what?
Books:
February 10, 0000Dear Danny (or Jane) —The news crawl on this computer is reporting a Presence sighting over Minneapolis.I just got off the phone with your Aunt Chrissy. She’s at the hospital with your mom. She says you aren’t in any hurry to come into the world just yet.I don’t blame you.The trouble is, kiddo, I am beginning to think you and I are not destined to meet.Here’s your mom the day we were married. Wasn’t she beautiful?So Jane—or Danny, if you turn out to be a boy—it’s just past 3 AM for you in Denver. 5 o’clock in the morning, here in Washington.Almost dawn.Danny Jane, it isn’ that up—I work for the government, and my job is to make you safe. Well, lots of people, I suppose, but tonight you are the only one I care about.This is my brother, Paul. He would have been your uncle. But some bad people blew up Los Angeles, which used to be a city with palm trees and Disneyland, and Paul joined the army. His helicopter got shot down in Yemen a few years ago.Thirteen years I’ve been trying to make things safe, and somehow things are always getting worse.I can’t tell you how ashameThis is a picture of your aunt Chrissy with one of her many asshole boyfriends, the kind who is always talking about making the world a better place but never getting a job. The last time I stayed at Chrissy’s place this guy threw beer on me. I didn’t give a shit about the beer, but I was so pissed off with him lying on the couch all day except for “band rehearsals†that I passed along a tip about his group to the FBI.A few months later the boyfriend disappeared. Of course Chrissy hated me. What was easier for her: believing he left her for the next good lay who wouldn’t nag him about the rent—or believing that he was a Resistance Hero, spirited off to Guam by my fascist minions?I was supposed to be there with your mom to see you into the world. But work, you know….I’m sure she isn’t surprised. I think she learned a long time ago that work is just another word for broken promises.…When I was a boy my dad showed me how to catch a cricket in my cupped hands. He’d let me hold it for a few seconds, just to feel it flick and flutter against my palms. 3 months ago, that’s what you were like. There was more room back then and you would be tumbling and flipping about—you were so active!—and your mother would grab my hand and put it on her belly and say, “See?†And I could feel you moving in there, bumping and fluttering against my hand.I had this joke all planned out for today. After you were born, the nurses would see how active you are, how alert, and they would say something like, “Look at this kid, checking out the room!†and I was going to say, “This baby wasn’t born yesterday, you know.†* More Presence sightings: Honolulu. Amritsar. Hokkaido. Helsinki. *I was supposed to be there with you, but the President called me to Washington to talk about the Presence.What is the Presence?Why, the Presence is the firs your warm bed and beaten and squashed and finally cast out into the cold, into the Outer Darkness is what the Bible calls it. And your mother will be crying with the pain of bearing you, and a huge hand will come down from the sky and cut you from her.Only unlike us, you were never to blame. *The Presence seen in Riyadh in Alberta. Twice in Jamaica in the space of a few minutes. Sau Paulo. Reykjavik. Suburbs of Aukland.And it’s beginning to look very much like the end.Here’s what Daddy was working on until about 45 minutes ago.I got this far and looked at it and left my computer. Got a little bottle of scotch from the mini-bar in my hotel room and looked out the window at Washington, and thought of you and your mother, so far away. *The goddam Presence. What is this fucking thing, Doug? Some kind of, I don’t know, weather phenomenon?Weather? No, Mr. President, we don’t believe so.A weapon?No, Mr. President, not as far as we know. Certainly not one of ours.Russian? Syrian? Chinese?Well Mr. President, we can’t say for sure, but—Your boysYes sir, I know that, but—Gotta wipe their asses with their left hands, these days, like Arabs, for not being able to find fucking toilet paper, Doug.Yes, that’s right, Danny Jane – the President of th first name! That’s how important your father is. *Military intelligence has been reporting the Presence in North Africa every day for the last 6 days. Sometimes the Syrian militias shoot at it, thinki weapon of our devising.They will realize, soon enough, that it isn’t war: it’s the end of all our wars. Maybe the end of us, one way or another.I haven’t slept in three days. Every time I close my eyes I see a giant hand reaching from the sky and things seem terribly precious.This is the house where I grew up. I guess it’s nothing special but I wanted you to see it.When the Presence came, for the first few days we didn’t know what to do. We upped the Parepin in the water near every sighting, just to keep people from panicking, you know? We thought maybe it was a weapon or the we prank, those litt fucking Zorro, while I spend my days sending agents out to die so they don’t have to pray to Mecca 5 times and day. *Flashback: yesterday. I’m taking the train into work, a girl gets on—twenty-five, maybe. Square glasses, jean jacket and a black skirt, no stockings, but a scorpion tattooed on her calf. Full of life. When the train got to her station the doors hissed open, she turned and looked over her shoulder at me and smiled and I smiled back and she gave me the finger.Fuck you, old man.Fuck you, Washington pig. Fuc wearing slacks and a belt. Fuck you because there’s a logo on your briefcase, you are Them you are the Enemy.And you can’t say, All I ever wanted to do wa train in fucking Syria in that get up they would cut off her hands.None of Aunt Chrissy’s friends want to hear that. They are full of liberal righteousness, which means that it’s better to let foreigners rot in hell than to lift a finger to save them and be thought a bully.Chrissy likes to think all our wars are about oil. It makes the worl because if it’s all just greedy tycoons somewhere there are no hard choices and she never has to be a bad guy.I have a master’s degree in political economics from Yale. She has an arts degree from a city college. I spend 12 and 14 hour days going through State Department briefs, CIA analysis papers, raw and edited surveillance footage, agent reports, and satellite data. She reads a couple of liberal blogs and lectures me on the state of the world every time we meet. Am I *aware* of the *cost* of the Syrian campaign?I keep waiting for her to realize her own colossal arrogance, but it never happens. In Chrissy’s world, facts don’t bands: mine is cool and yours sucks, and if mainstream people like it, it must suck ASS.This is your grandpa before the stroke. We didn’t agree on one damn thing. I wish you could have met him then, before the wheelchair and the feeding tubes. Bef just a hideous chore in a nursing home.My Dad was kind and gentle and let people walk all over him. I hated that.Now I wish I had been kinder when i had the chance.This is your grandma. Sometimes she looks at me, and I can see her searching in my face for the boy she knew, and I feel ashamed. *Boise. Instanbul. Cape Town. Macao. Buenos Aires. Munster. Brisbane. Isolated reports of the Presence coming in from California ranger stations, high up in the Sierras.So we were in a place called The Situation Room, the President and all the Consortium hotshots, everybody spinning and spinning… “blame it on the Arabs†“blame it on the Indians†“blame it on the disside barking, Danny Jane. Crows screeching.The time for blame is over. The time for arabs and dissidents and miners and strikers and soldiers and business and anything but mercy.We tried to make the world safe for you, Danny Jane, but we tried all the wrong things and nothing worked. The sky is full of terror and the world is falling down. We tried and we failed, but wYou can’t pack a good snowball with mittens on. The rule of 3s will make grade school math easy for you, if Mom remembers to teach it to you. Never answer chain letters but always make a wish when you blow out the candles on your birthday cake.Tell Aunt Chrissy I love her in spite of everything. Tell your mom … tell your mom I was wrong about not getting a cat. And all those times I told he first grey hairs? I wasn’t lying.Tell her I should have laughed more at her jokes.It’s so stupid, Danny Jane. We get scared and our hearts dry up. Don’t be scared. Please God let me get home safe tomorrow and I swear I will quit my stupid government job and do nothing but fill you up with courage. I will take spiders out of the house for you, and buy you roller skates, and teach you how to catch crickets with your bare hands. * Bangkok, Antwerp, Pla Seoul, Portland, Plymouth—faster and faster, the cities pouring in. The great hand playing like lightning over the face of the world. * Happy Birthday, Danny Jane.When they pull you squalling into life, you yell and you keep yelling. Love as hard as you can as long as you can. When that big hand comes down for you, nothing else will matter any more.At the end—and this is what I’ve learned, and I don’t know why it took so long—at the end, ever away and all that’s left is love and ashes.ITS HEREo my god, dj, it’s over the capitol. o my god, o my god i’m so sorry.this is the beginningthe stars are blowing out like candles, danny janemake a wish make a wish make a wish make a wish make a February 10, 0000Dear Danny (or Jane) —The news crawl on this computer is reporting a Presence sighting over Minneapolis.I just got off the phone with your Aunt Chrissy. She’s at the hospital with your mom. She says you aren’t in any hurry to come into the world just yet.I don’t blame you.The trouble is, kiddo, I am beginning to think you and I are not destined to meet. Here’s your mom the day we were married. Wasn’t she beautiful?So Jane—or Danny, if you turn out to be a boy—it’s just past 3 AM for you in Denver. 5 o’clock in the morning, here in Washington.Almost dawn.Danny Jane, it isn’t the safest world you’re coming into. That’s my fault. I’m not making that up—I work for the government, and my job is to make you safe. Well, lots of people, I suppose, but tonight you are the only one I care about. This is my brother, Paul. He would have been your uncle. But some bad people blew up Los Angeles, which used to be a city with palm trees and Disneyland, and Paul joined the army. His helicopter got shot down in Yemen a few years ago.Thirteen years I’ve been trying to make things safe, and somehow things are always getting worse.I can’t tell you how ashamed I am. This is a picture of your aunt Chrissy with one of her many asshole boyfriends, the kind who is always talking about making the world a better place but never getting a job. The last time I stayed at Chrissy’s place this guy threw beer on me. I didn’t give a shit about the beer, but I was so pissed off with him lying on the couch all day except for “band rehearsals†that I passed along a tip about his group to the FBI.A few months later the boyfriend disappeared. Of course Chrissy hated me. What was easier for her: believing he left her for the next good lay who wouldn’t nag him about the rent—or believing that he was a Resistance Hero, spirited off to Guam by my fascist minions? I was supposed to be there with your mom to see you into the world. But work, you know….I’m sure she isn’t surprised. I think she learned a long time ago that work is just another word for broken promises.…When I was a boy my dad showed me how to catch a cricket in my cupped hands. He’d let me hold it for a few seconds, just to feel it flick and flutter against my palms. 3 months ago, that’s what you were like. There was more room back then and you would be tumbling and flipping about—you were so active!—and your mother would grab my hand and put it on her belly and say, “See?†And I could feel you moving in there, bumping and fluttering against my hand.I had this joke all planned out for today. After you were born, the nurses would see how active you are, how alert, and they would say something like, “Look at this kid, checking out the room!†and I was going to say, “This baby wasn’t born yesterday, you know.†* More Presence sightings: Honolulu. Amritsar. Hokkaido. Helsinki. *I was supposed to be there with you, but the President called me to Washington to talk about the Presence.What is the Presence?Why, the Presence is the first thing you will see, Danny Jane. You will be pushed out of your warm bed and beaten and squashed and finally cast out into the cold, into the Outer Darkness is what the Bible calls it. And your mother will be crying with the pain of bearing you, and a huge hand will come down from the sky and cut you from her.Only unlike us, you were never to blame. *The Presence seen in Riyadh this hour, and Rouen. Crete, Saigon, Lesser Slave Lake up in Alberta. Twice in Jamaica in the space of a few minutes. Sau Paulo. Reykjavik. Suburbs of Aukland.And it’s beginning to look very much like the end.Here’s what Daddy was working on until about 45 minutes ago.I got this far and looked at it and left my computer. Got a little bottle of scotch from the mini-bar in my hotel room and looked out the window at Washington, and thought of you and your mother, so far away. *The goddam Presence. What is this fucking thing, Doug? Some kind of, I don’t know, weather phenomenon?Weather? No, Mr. President, we don’t believe so.A weapon?No, Mr. President, not as far as we know. Certainly not one of ours.Russian? Syrian? Chinese?Well Mr. President, we can’t say for sure, but—Your boys have fucked up before, Doug.Yes sir, I know that, but—Gotta wipe their asses with their left hands, these days, like Arabs, for not being able to find fucking toilet paper, Doug.Yes, that’s right, Danny Jane – the President of the United States calls me by my very first name! That’s how important your father is. *Military intelligence has been reporting the Presence in North Africa every day for the last 6 days. Sometimes the Syrian militias shoot at it, thinking it must be some weapon of our devising.They will realize, soon enough, that it isn’t war: it’s the end of all our wars. Maybe the end of us, one way or another.I haven’t slept in three days. Every time I close my eyes I see a giant hand reaching from the sky and things seem terribly precious. This is the house where I grew up. I guess it’s nothing special but I wanted you to see it.When the Presence came, for the first few days we didn’t know what to do. We upped the Parepin in the water near every sighting, just to keep people from panicking, you know? We thought maybe it was a weapon or the weather or some fucking subversive prank, those little streetcorner shitheads, give them a spray-paint can think they’re fucking Zorro, while I spend my days sending agents out to die so they don’t have to pray to Mecca 5 times and day. *Flashback: yesterday. I’m taking the train into work, a girl gets on—twenty-five, maybe. Square glasses, jean jacket and a black skirt, no stockings, but a scorpion tattooed on her calf. Full of life. When the train got to her station the doors hissed open, she turned and looked over her shoulder at me and smiled and I smiled back and she gave me the finger.Fuck you, old man.Fuck you, Washington pig. Fuck you because you like the way I look but you’re wearing slacks and a belt. Fuck you because there’s a logo on your briefcase, you are Them you are the Enemy.And you can’t say, All I ever wanted to do was keep you safe. But if she got on a train in fucking Syria in that get up they would cut off her hands.None of Aunt Chrissy’s friends want to hear that. They are full of liberal righteousness, which means that it’s better to let foreigners rot in hell than to lift a finger to save them and be thought a bully.Chrissy likes to think all our wars are about oil. It makes the world simple for her because if it’s all just greedy tycoons somewhere there are no hard choices and she never has to be a bad guy.I have a master’s degree in political economics from Yale. She has an arts degree from a city college. I spend 12 and 14 hour days going through State Department briefs, CIA analysis papers, raw and edited surveillance footage, agent reports, and satellite data. She reads a couple of liberal blogs and lectures me on the state of the world every time we meet. Am I *aware* of the *cost* of the Syrian campaign?I keep waiting for her to realize her own colossal arrogance, but it never happens. In Chrissy’s world, facts don’t matter and hard choices don’t exist. Policies are like rock bands: mine is cool and yours sucks, and if mainstream people like it, it must suck ASS. This is your grandpa before the stroke. We didn’t agree on one damn thing. I wish you could have met him then, before the wheelchair and the feeding tubes. Before he was just a hideous chore in a nursing home.My Dad was kind and gentle and let people walk all over him. I hated that.Now I wish I had been kinder when i had the chance. This is your grandma. Sometimes she looks at me, and I can see her searching in my face for the boy she knew, and I feel ashamed. *Boise. Instanbul. Cape Town. Macao. Buenos Aires. Munster. Brisbane. Isolated reports of the Presence coming in from California ranger stations, high up in the Sierras.So we were in a place called The Situation Room, the President and all the Consortium hotshots, everybody spinning and spinning… “blame it on the Arabs†“blame it on the Indians†“blame it on the dissidents†and i just listened to them talk, it was like dogs barking, Danny Jane. Crows screeching.The time for blame is over. The time for arabs and dissidents and miners and strikers and soldiers and business and anything but mercy. We tried to make the world safe for you, Danny Jane, but we tried all the wrong things and nothing worked. The sky is full of terror and the world is falling down. We tried and we failed, but we didn’t mean it to end this way, I swear to you. I swear to you.You can’t pack a good snowball with mittens on. The rule of 3s will make grade school math easy for you, if Mom remembers to teach it to you. Never answer chain letters but always make a wish when you blow out the candles on your birthday cake.Tell Aunt Chrissy I love her in spite of everything. Tell your mom … tell your mom I was wrong about not getting a cat. And all those times I told her I didn’t care about her first grey hairs? I wasn’t lying.Tell her I should have laughed more at her jokes.It’s so stupid, Danny Jane. We get scared and our hearts dry up. Don’t be scared. Please God let me get home safe tomorrow and I swear I will quit my stupid government job and do nothing but fill you up with courage. I will take spiders out of the house for you, and buy you roller skates, and teach you how to catch crickets with your bare hands. * Bangkok, Antwerp, Plano, Heidelberg, Beirut and Tel Aviv, St. Petersburg, Lhasa, Bangalore, Seoul, Portland, Plymouth—faster and faster, the cities pouring in. The great hand playing like lightning over the face of the world. * Happy Birthday, Danny Jane.When they pull you squalling into life, you yell and you keep yelling. Love as hard as you can as long as you can. When that big hand comes down for you, nothing else will matter any more.At the end—and this is what I’ve learned, and I don’t know why it took so long—at the end, everything dissolves. At the end, everything you thought mattered burns away and all that’s left is love and ashes.ITS HEREo my god, dj, it’s over the capitol. o my god, o my god i’m so sorry.this is the beginningthe stars are blowing out like candles, danny janemake a wish make a wish make a wish make a wish make a 24.4.1