Below are the 6 most recent journal entries recorded in xedificationx's LiveJournal:

Thursday, November 4th, 2004
6:46 pm	I found myself sitting at home staring at the blank screen with Gwen Stefani "What You Waiting For?" blasting through the speakers. I've seen the video of where she fallen asleep but only to awaken in her dream follow by the theme of Alice In Wonderland. Tic Toc Tic Toc Tic Toc Tic Toc...like an echo pedal, you're repeating yourself, you know it all by heart, why are you standing in one place?, born to blossom, bloom to perish. And here I stand, believing that there's more to life than this. Like a bad dream in the Wizard of Oz, that's a long yellow brick road to happiness and I'm not sure if I could deal with the impatience of babysitting a couple of knuckleheads. Sum that up and the outcome would be lesser than the value of a blackheart. But on the black market it could fetch up to gold standard ‘cause anybody a fool to believe something that good of a deal be cheap. I’m sicken and disgusted by the lack of remorse I’ve witness from close range. Enough to make a desperate attempt to plead for my life in hope of forgiveness. However, it was I that stare into the grievance eyes and gave them my worthy constituent of sparing their lives in exchange for their weak kindness. Yes, I am the epitome of King Luther Junior as darken as the sun may never shine on his restless soul. There may never be a day as bright as intervention but you’ll get the same effect with a bottle of Jack Daniel and Valium. And when you awake, the pain will be much more deeper in doses cause you’ll have failed in your grand finale of exiting this world. Never be afraid to question your curiosity. Now ask yourself, are you alive? Or are you a figment of everybody else imagination whereas to the point of beyond recognition of knowing thy true self? Whatcha waiting for? Current Mood: pessimistic Current Music: What You Waiting For - Gwen Stefani (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, October 7th, 2004
6:49 pm	Today, as I woke up... turned on the TV and came across the local cable access show. Now, I've seen some funny shit but a show called Homebound Excercise Show where it seem to be old and overweight homeless bums doing a morning workout on a folding chair is priceless. I swear, the only guy on the show seem to be mentally challenge and the ring leader that's running the show was preaching "Don't make me come back there!" I mean, to give you a better visual idea of what I saw, imagine your crazy grandmother doing jumping-jacks while sitting down on a chair, imagine your disserted uncle doing sprints...in his chair. It was awesome! (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, September 27th, 2004
11:07 pm	The Prophetic of the Enginous Man It's going to be a one man show whereas I, yours truly, will stage as a southern evangelist whose demonic-like growls would torch the wings of any Angels that dare sing the Lords gospel in blasphemous. Who would join me in my quest to conquer evil from the mist of damnation? Who will carry me across the open air and floats atop the river of Styx and bear the restless souls into their hearts? Who here has the courage to strip themselves from their petty sins and prepare to be reborn as a soldier of Faith? The REAL question is, who would actually pay to watch me perform this act once written for the stage? (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, September 21st, 2004
7:19 pm	Today, Jesus Christ could very much come alive... and save Israel from the coalition of the Arab nations and Russia. When the powers of the West ignite the nuclear holocaust in the middle east, the Russia will come and aid the Arab nations and will attempt to destroy Israel. The Japan empire will over shadow the USA and shall very soon lead the US into an economy disaster. This will be the start of WWIII, the Armageddon, in the end, God will embrace Israel and lead them to holy victory. Blah blah blah, I was watching some Christian Evangelist show and this guy was preaching "read it with me, now" about The End of the Age as Bush being the 6 headed Lion sleeping with the enemy and all that crazy jazz. He almost made a believer out of me. But then I turned to Comedy Central "Daily Show" for their segment about the Cooter Festival...god, I love this country. That is all. Good day! (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, July 20th, 2004
9:32 am	This is not sane. This is what I tell myself over and over as I stare at the inhumanity plague caused by my careless retribution. And just thinking about it is making me nauseous and pains me within to bear the haunted retrospective of my mistake. You’re not sane. That is what I’m told to believe by the strangers whom I meet at parties and business meetings but who are they to point the finger? They haven’t got a clue of what it’s like to marked for life with the number of the beast on your forehead. Sure, it’s a coincidence when somebody is reported and feared missing and evidences suggested that I’m the perpetrator of the crime. Always a mystery. I wish I knew what was of me and why I say or think the way I do but I am what I am and that’s a dangerous thought, even for the most intellectual of any kind that bear to mind the riveted psychopath killer that has no memory of any wrong doing or so to speak. I am not well. And I am not stable. I have the tendency to swarm recklessly and emotionally without advancement warning just to say that you weren’t warned. I am not hopeless. But there isn’t a cure known to retaliate my mental disease. I am not a monster and I wish everybody would quit staring at me as if I were one. I just made some mistake in my life that has infected everybody in a 3000 miles diameter of me. The lust for cold blood being spilled on the bedroom walls...the ecstacy that’s all the rage of feeling immortal...the thirst for power that griped the soul and mind and enable the control of sanity. I wasn’t always like this. I too came from a family of loving values and morals but it was just that that has made the monkey grew curiosity and hung itself on the doorknob naked coked out of mind. It was being tired of feeling nothing and knowing all too much that gave me get cheap thrills by injecting myself with horror and impotent. I didn’t want to live but I knew I was incapable of pulling off a suicidal mission. So instead I would kill myself with pleasures and hope that somebody else would delete me from their file. I am, after all, a robot. No heart to judge a man feelings and no brain to think from right or wrong, just a walking mechanical genius with no soul to show for. Yet, I still bleed the same color of blood as of you. Strange, perhaps? Maybe not when compared to the on slaughter of thousands in Iraq. People being killed to make way for the western democracy, an US of A idealism. Women being raped ‘cause the soldiers are frustrated and children are being spent as if they were possible threat. On the TV, I see people being mislead into believing that what we’re doing is justifiable and that we’re helping Iraq build a better future. In the paper, I read the stories of men being beheaded and how the prisoners at Abu Ghraib were treated. How can I be the monster of a crime when the US government trained me to be this way. I’m just following protocol. My orders were given and I was smitten to be honor such a request from higher commands. Being on the field with my brothers in arm searching for peace in a chaotic state of mind. Drenching in the heat with 50 pounds of armor and utility as we roam across the stench desert of lost souls. This isn’t what I thought would become of my enlisting years ago. I wanted to see the 7 seas and continents, little would expect of the tragedy of 9-11 and at the time, I thought what I was doing was right. To avenge for my fallen comrades. I too rode the streets with American flags on the radio antenna and littered the lawn with desperation of a tearful joy. And I too stood by our President. Now it’s too late to take back the ugliness of our presence for as of we becoming the face of our hidden enemies. I wish there was a way to express the sorrow and guilt I have as I gun down innocent civilian but I am a robot, I have no feelings. I do what I’m told and I’m viewed as a monster back home. I am taunted by whoever and wherever I go cause of who I am but not as what I am. I am a robot. I am a monster. I am incapable of showing human emotions cause my job doesn’t require it. I am not allow to think or question my superiors. I do what I’m told and give an 113 percent. I am dead. I am heartless. I am a machine with guns strapped to my arms. I am here to ridden the streets of possible threat to the western democracy idealism. I am the peacekeeper. (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, July 12th, 2004
9:03 pm	Help me. I'm writing to you in favor of saving humanity from knowing my disease. I'm dying from banishment of a loneliness heart and I no longer have the desire to keep on soaring the defeated spirit. I am not custom to build a happy home nor am I able to provide a stable relationship with anyone that’s willing to fall for me. You wouldn’t be able to understand the pressure of living a life that knows nothing of superior motives ‘cause of the perils that rested in your dream-scape were nothing more but shallow gifts from the very people that molded you. You wouldn’t have the slightest idea of what’s it like to be given the fruits from Eden and then to disavow the destruction of dignity. I hope you’re writing this down. I hope you’re following this correctly. I hope you take this serious. I hope for some other reason that deep inside your heart there’s a place for forgiveness and that you would like me to end this now by placing a sharp object, preferably a shaving razor, to my wrist and slit the sorrows that still haunts me. Note: slit your wrist downstroke, not sideway. But here I lay thinking that anybody would give a dawn. Do I crave for affection? Do I really linger for human emotion and physical touch? Why in God would I care for such worthless prizes when I honestly have no love for myself? Would I technically be called an attention whore? I don’t believe. There’s more to knowing the truth for this odd behavior. Maybe it started because of you? The more I think about it, yeah, it’s all because of you. You were the seed of my misery. You planted ‘em deep into my heart and now the roots hold strong in my stomach and throat. The hatred remains. The hopeless continue to drivel. And to think it’s all because of you and the laughter we once shared. The open discussion about anything and everything. The knowing that there was always somebody you could count on and trust. What went wrong, I asked? I did nothing wrong and so nor did you. But you gave up. I must’ve given up as well. But it’s all over now. Here I write to you in hoping that there’s some greater spirit looking out over us and is guiding you back into my arms. It’s a shallow act to do but I’m desperate. I need you. I’m begging for you. Even if it’s for one hot minute. I just need to know if it’s still there. If my heart is lying to me. To understand that the pass is behind us and that there’s nothing of us anymore. As much as I’m trying to grip reality I’m losing ground. The pain hurts and there’s nothing that an over-the-counter drug can help. Friends are concern for my health and they do so by speaking gossips of nasty lies behind my back. This is why I can’t function around people. When I’m around people, all they ever do is talk shit on one another. How do I know they’re not doing the same about me? As if anybody perfect. So, once again, I’m writing in plead for my life. Hopefully you’ll come to my aid and rescue me before it’s too late. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. Are you even reading this? Do you even care? Chances are, you’re probably not. (1 Comment |Comment on this)