Anna

Originality is nearly dead. The world is going to hell in a handbasket. I feel as if i've missed out. I feel as if i've been cheated. I'm jealous of those who thrived during the age of prosperity, where everything was fresh and the future held such promise. Where you could do your own thing, wherever you had to do it and whenever you wanted. Drop out. Leave society. Leave it utterly. And blow the mind of every straight person you could reach. What a time to be alive. Fast forward to now, see how much has changed, see how much has faded. Our age is very cheap and intelligible. Our well-being consists of having image-based prestige and as few obligations as possible. There is no fate. There is no destiny. The point of our lives are just like the lives of any other organism, to procreate, to substansiate our species. And inevitably, due in large part to that common misconception, ours will be called a culture of narcissism. The label is apt but can be misleading. It reads colloquially as selfishness and self-absorption. But these images do not capture the anxiety behind our search for mirrors. We are insecure in our understanding of ourselves, and this insecurity breeds a new preoccupation with the question of who we are. We search for ways to see ourselves. We take use of all tools. No matter how destructive. But the real picture, the real "you" never emerges. Looking for it is as bewildering as trying to know how you really look. Ten different mirrors show you ten different faces. Perhaps the rare and simple pleasure of being seen for what one is, compensates for the misery of being it. Imperious, jaded, opinionated, extreme in everything, with a dissolute imagination the like of which has never been seen, atheistic to the point of fanaticism--and there you have it--our generation in a nutshell. We live our lives, do whatever we do, and then we sleep. A few jump out windows, or drown themselves, or take pills; more die by accident; and most of us are slowly devoured by some disease, or, if we're very fortunate, by time itself. There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) know these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning, we hope, more than anything for more.
God & Jesus. Charlie Chaplin. James Dean. Mary Magdalene. Fay Wray. Nils Asther. Julie Newmar. Montgomery Clift. Alla Nazimova. The Black Madonna. Amanda MacKinnon. Wendy O Williams. Theda Bara. Greta Garbo. Melora Creager. Olive Borden. Kat Von D. Shirley Muldowney. Lily Damita. Rudolph Valentino. Vaginal Davis. She-Venom. Louise Brooks. Candy Darling. Sylvia Plath. Betty Boop. Jean Harlow. Soo Catwoman. Howard Hughes. Debbie Juvenile. Lita Ford. Cherie Currie. Alice White. Christa Päffgen. André 3000. Bill Nye The Science Guy. Josephine Baker. Poly Styrene. Exene Cervenka. Ari Up. Penelope Houston. Gene Tierney. Natalie Wood. Ava Gardner. Rita Hayworth. Lewis Carroll. Milla Jovovich. Anita Page. Lurch. Edie Sedgwick. Pola Negri. Felix The Cat. Lemmy. Ed Wood Jr. Vampira. Rod Serling. Daisy & Rosetta Hilton. Jane Russell. Little Miss Strange. Sheri Moon Zombie. Etsuko Nakanishi. Anne Bonney. Claudette Colbert. Monty Python. Arthur Rimbaud. Vincent Price. Einstein. Clara Bow. Elvira. Patsy Stone. Charles Baudelaire. Pytor Ilyich Tchaikovsky. Twiggy Ramirez. Christopher Walken. Jimmy Urine. George Carlin. Tura Satana. Bela Lugosi. Sid Vicious. Nikola Tesla. Chrissie Hynde. Friedrich Nietzsche. Samuel Beckett. Courtney Love. Ronnie Yoshiko Fujiyama. Bianca Butthole. Cherry Sunkist. Cosey Fanni Tutti. Harley Quinn. Lauren Bacall. Gwendolyn Brooks. Gloria Steinem. Maya Angelou. Menhit. Gary Oldman
FUN FACTS ABOUT MEKANIKARU

I am morbidly disinterested in sexual matters. I don't plan to have children; they only overpopulate the planet and make a bucket out of your cunt. As a kid, i lived off of a sickeningly sweet diet of satellite wafers and wax soda bottles. Almost every single tooth has a filling. I can't touch powdered sugar without cringing. I have emitophobia. I like to spend my weekends in the park, sitting way up high in a tree, reading books on philosophy by Nietzsche, Freud and Martin Heidegger. Knowing full well that if Friedrich Nietzsche were still alive today he'd have me strung up. Daktari Lorenz makes my heart melt inside my chest, i know it sounds painful, but it's actually quite refreshing.
OCCUPATION: Author. Blood Donor. Ex-Student. Smooth Operator. Aimless Wanderer. Hypocondriac. Judge. Jury. Executioner. Muse. Dead End Rekords Desk Jockey. Guess You Could Say I'm A Jane Of All Trades.

CIGARETTES:No.
MY DRUG USE:Drug Free.
ALCOHOL:No.
POLITICAL STANCE:Liberal.
DATING STATUS:Sadly Single.
I WANT: Someone who will show me that life is still worth living.
Someone who will treat me like a person, instead of an object.
Someone who will force me to see myself in a better light.
Someone who will come with me as i bounce in and out of states. The highly excited state of overstimulation and the silent snoozy state of deceleration.
People don't know how to love. They bite rather than kiss. They slap rather than stroke. Maybe it's because they recognize how easy it is for love to go bad, to become suddenly impossible...unworkable, an exercise of futility. So they avoid it and seek solace in angst, and fear, and aggression, which are always there and readily available.
Or maybe sometimes...they just don't have all the facts.

WHAT GRINDS MY GEARS:
Stripper streaks. Sickness. Vomiting. Idiots who cough/sneeze/vomit near me. Idiots who touch public railings/handles/knobs and rub their eyes. Running out of various anti-bacterial soaps and sanitizers. Bad vibrations. Whiny music. Spiders falling from the bathroom ceiling. Tribal armbands. Hypersexuality. Bar Hoppers. Porn. Animal Cruelty.