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Below are the 17 most recent journal entries recorded in 665's LiveJournal:

Friday, December 5th, 2003
1:44 pm
and that's that.
I'm finished.
Monday, September 22nd, 2003
10:42 am
I'm happy as a lark now. Everything is fine.

Current Mood: happy as a lark
Thursday, September 18th, 2003
9:15 pm
A confession.
(note: originally written in my paper journal)

Forgive me, for I have sinned.

Every day, roughly a half hour after waking up, I sit at my cubicle in the office where I work, and I take three pills. The first two are Adderall XR, a drug whose mental benefits I have been lying to my doctor about so that I can gain from their appetite-suppressant effects; and the other is an iron supplement, which I am taking mostly due to malnutrition and memory loss.

I sometimes wash these down with a diet Coke, or some ginger ale or a paper cup of water, and no one notices. If they do, they don't say anything. I could be taking Valium or whatever, right at my desk, and they'd really have no idea.

It's been a while since I have been on sedatives of any sort; I think I'd like to try it.

After the pills, I'm ready to start. I interact with a stunning number of people evey day. None of them are usually very nice. There is the odd one, but at this point my brain has been so conditioned and desensitized that it really doesn't matter.

More often than not, I'll tell people that I don't have an addictive personality. And it's half true. I don't think I could give up any of my vices if I wanted to at this point. But I don't have an addictive personality because I don't have a personality at all.

I have spent a long time staring at myself in a mirror, and noting each feature of my face -- the woefully imperfect skin, the slight crookedness of the mouth, the untended eyebrows, the disappearing (but still present) double chin, the eyes -- and I see a collection of parts, a set of displays, based in the same material, and designed to create the flawless illusion of a functioning human being. The idea, even, that when I shake a man's hand and listen to his troubles, that anyone is home at all. And it is simply not true.

Eyes are windows to the soul, it's said, and if you look into mine you will see whatever looks the most like what I wanted you to think I was feeling. It, like all the other facades (and I do not think I am alone in all or even most of them) I maintain on a daily basis, is a lie. I arrange factors both internal and external to see to it that you believe everything I say and do, or at least believe I had any good reason to say or do it. I did not. I do not. I will not.

I do not exist.

I think that the reason I have returned to my hedonistic ways is because my senses are the only way I feel anything. I cannot feel genuine affection for anyone and so instead I bask in their scent or appearance.

It is currently 1:41 in the morning. If I really wanted to, I have no doubt that I could groom myself a bit and then walk five minutes (if that) down the street, catch a single-looking attractive girl coming out of any of the bars that will be closing, and have her back here in this room within a half-hour.

But honestly, I just don't care enough right now to go through the motions of giving any degree of a shit about sex right now. I think that if I took a girl back here, I would just sit down on my bed and I don't know -- maybe just keep asking her questions about the penis size of every male she's ever been with, continuously, and see how long it takes her to get completely freaked out and leave. I would be more entertained watching some poor drunk girl get increasingly uncomfortable than I would by shoving myself inside her. I just don't care enough.

The act of genuinely caring about someone and what they have to say is a precious and beautiful one, and it's kind of rare, in my experience. And I can honestly say that unless someone has something to say that can keep my vices well-supplied, I just don't care. I'm sure it's nice and I'm glad it matters to them, but whatever it is, it's guaranteed to bounce off my brain.

Whenever I meet someone for the first time, I sometimes think about what would happen if I just started vomiting blood on them, midsentence. Not out of any desire either for attention or to ruin their clothing -- I just would like to see what they'd do. Would they be all forgiving and understanding about it? Would they resent me for what I'd done, as though it'd been on purpose (although I suppose it would have been)? Or would they be concerned -- suggest I go to the emergency room and everything? Part of me hopes that they would ask me what was wrong so I could tell them, "Nothing at all -- I just wanted to vomit blood on you and see what you'd do." And then I'd get to see what they'd do when I told them.

The lesson here is that if you pull back one layer of apparent lack of concern for the emotional well-being of any other person, you will find even less concern for same.

I do not feel very much at all, and it's far different from a simple joyless existence -- I am possessed of very little melancholy or anger, and my state of self is hardly a reaction to being previously hurt. At this point, I would be lying if I said that I remembered particularly well what being hurt felt like.

Every day (less so, now), I say things on a website, and people listen. And some of them even think that I'm being emotionally revealing on it -- sharing stories of my life and experiences. Like my face, which I can no longer bear to look at, it's all pretty much a show. I am going through the motions of having and sharing emotions and allowing access to it through the usual channels. And you listen to what I have to say, and you agree or disagree, and you think you know me.

There is no me to know.

Peel away artifice and you will only find more artifice. And under that, nothing. The simple act of inhaling and exhaling seems dishonest to me, solely by dint of the fact that it's me who's doing it. I feel as though I made myself and am continually doing so, crafting an artificial persona out of another existing one, like a marionette who has somehow transcended autonomy and is pulling its own strings. My mind is nothing so much as the Worm Ouroboros, its lengthy spine made out of pretense and fabrication, infinitely swallowing its own tail. One would think that cramming oneself so far down one's own throat would trigger some sort of gag reflex, but I don't see that happening any time soon.

I don't know who is worse off -- me, for pretending that I was a working, functioning whole; or you, for believing me.

And who am I?

I am nothing. I am no one. I do not exist.

-J.S.P.
Tuesday, May 20th, 2003
12:14 pm
Ifessim vor hoyel vamsennet.
One month ago today I was happy as a lark
But now I go for walks to the movies - maybe to the park
I have a seat on the same old bench
To watch the children play
You know, tomorrow is their future
But to me, just another day

They all gather 'round me, they seem to know my name
We laugh, tell a few jokes, but it still doesn't ease my pain
I know I can't hide from a memory, 'though day after day I've tried
I keep sayin' she'll be back, but today again I've lied

Oh, I see her face everywhere I go
On the street, and even at the picture show
Have you seen her? Tell me, have you seen her?

Oh, I hear her voice as the cold winds blow
In the sweet music on my radio
Have you seen her? Tell me, have you seen her?

Why, oh, why
Did she have to leave and go away

Oh-oh-oh, I've been use to havin' someone to lean on
And I'm lost, baby, I'm lost (oh)

Have you seen her? Tell me, have you seen her?
Have you seen her? Tell me, have you seen her?

Oh, she left her kiss upon my lips
But left that break within my heart
Have you seen her? Tell me, have you seen her?

Oh, I see her hand reaching out to me
Only she can set me free
Have you seen her? Tell me, have you seen her?

Why, oh, why
Did she have to leave and go away

Oh-oh-oh, I've been use to havin' someone to lean on
And I'm lost, baby, I'm lost (oh)

Have you seen her? Tell me, have you seen her?

As another day comes to an end
I'm lookin' for a letter or somethin'
Anything that she would send
With all the people I know I'm still a lonely man
You know, it's funny
I thought I had her in the palm of my hand

Have you seen her
Tell me, have you seen her (tell me, have you seen her?)
Tuesday, May 13th, 2003
9:41 am
... .- ...- . / -- .
Wednesday, April 9th, 2003
4:08 pm
Vor!
Delgott issem imsenell vel jindith gemmel. Vossi demnesh tweer hoiliend, hor lilcan conneretiss?

Date: 4-6-2003

From: "JSP"
To: 665@sixsixfive.com
Subject: Experiment

I have lately been conducting an experiment to see how many times in a row I can listen to "The Stroke" by Billy Squier. Thus far, my record is: one. I'll let you know how it goes.

-JSP


Hoylenta in loystem.
11:56 am
Mylind innal sertase.
Listosh hassi wrent - mylind innal sertase. Vel gossinter heaston possect limnatious, hor demnesh toffer poif hollworiss: Wennal vessites gordovoin vel marnis lesserd, melandeer ler vont quay.

Ollast tweer maralay, pontow hor vinnin ila wout saist.

Fent hassinay vor heen dauni mylind innal sertase?

Va.

Current Mood: Inerlem
Monday, January 13th, 2003
1:26 pm
Monday, December 16th, 2002
3:59 pm
Palriss?
Sisonner vel treed, hend hor lesti raidess worlent fesser. Ler faind eslanya, mesti jast demnesh yaist imkair. Malit gelhaider, vel langoadver yalmit greel. Gyoy! Lide glinkim pol droum - seiss emnost fauruliss mollot steicher jaya helseet. Va, nylisk erbotsi sanstrell, ut va, ogshan golmet sistraim lor heest.

Vel: Issen halnipar traist.

Current Mood: Traist
Wednesday, November 27th, 2002
2:43 pm
"My means of communication have become brittle now, far too much so to accomodate any of what I would have them do. This is where I find myself: the economics of my situation squeeze me like an especially insistent fist. Meanwhile, legacies yet unborn are already dry and cracking. In times like these, one's first instinct - or mine, anyway - is to seek egress, any port in every storm. But there's none to be had, not this time, not in this slowest of burns. You and I both know the toll of dissolution and we've heard the low, desperate scraping that is the whimper to the bang we'd been expecting. So gather now what you can, while you can, because the heavy, graying dust that litters the fields of your perception - and certainly mine - does not obscure but instead illuminates what will later be clear as the incipient realization that no matter the cost, I will not be getting out of this alive."
Thursday, November 14th, 2002
2:09 am
Va, ist srigelnen.


Current Mood: Curdam.
Thursday, October 31st, 2002
1:25 pm
Vair jayal.
Vel wernay, jemmonef mogs dreist cochail tol gring vel croindel:

"It should be readily apparent that I am trying to tell you something."

-Phillip T. Joss

Vistu monest sheloudea hor demnesh stel mogs.

Varrel Halloween.

Current Mood: Loystem
Friday, September 6th, 2002
1:36 pm
Gyoy!
Voriam hor deiree jate. Lenhank lom waursith bers...Sant vel yorent, mey jontnav quine hor koitennith demnesh. Maicly rish loystem in Fangoria samnat vel jindith.

Quirset ims forral noag:

"Crows! Crows! Crows! I hate them!"

Va?
Thursday, February 7th, 2002
11:52 am
Vorlat hor guayre
Mat ferdolrad selt langoadver venning ut prash. Vorst jang, va hemnel poind gellish hor Serge Gainsbourg. Vastu simnist nossanir bastrom volnet? Va queet mun palriss woytissin faul, hor vosserone vol hofteer sime. Ut, istren lofsper vel fortam moplal.

Estrite vel kenshounder derbenst heshile erwope hor plairma - selmet nonnir holk dreesin vel moaliteen. Mun selmet jeen porsi, hor marl...Basnadear, wirsha vispast va prex thoamer slass vule belrapty cinster srigeln mun. Haylex velstook brell swirs mitvor. Sush vel holnow crishtom hon twelnesh ut bosrolanit orfess ut viffen. Motrom pasperfens orige hor vorelm va istor mun "Scary." Vel hemissir orl sifdin caruliem hyer! Soset joulvarn ogshan vel parsh. Semdri...loquim preap adroutonnis rijer cromish. Yorshal vom aigee melel. Tourasim doulol sest mollot saysen, moy reeleoap valmin dorsishill nanver. Ut ordais hor ondom...

Current Mood: Loystem vel demnesh
Wednesday, February 6th, 2002
10:34 am
Feshen in sefdermoss vilweer
Isserat ut gyoy...va hosh jilgellit fersan hor torm? Gissandir, jask wrondoine tris selmet dring tatcher simdra. Ut, sporrill vamder "ogshan?" Drel, chirge klaynes domrow in repnesh sertath. Hor moy strods...va mollot dor besweer stesh telwer je ne sais pas. Tweers - orlim hor vessendrai va...

In hor ternen
Elchernick blen
Nanver gisten
Frem ternay,

Hwoad mar yassen
Va srigelnen
Orsten visten
Maralay,

Vel poim fenden
Ut va roinden
Turjer guirden
Jindith quay,

Toiper twelsten
Vel pormoinen
Erdas ut lenn
Graif, jorlay.


Gershest hor quorlish, teryen? Joist narmet vel queet mor torindla jomni len wertulsher sostim mif marl. Perwid hons quay - shondrais dercleg trest vel ondreff. Gur hailden tonst gasdint mareid palriss. Viffen wergyu nofiss wern, nesyem ut golgrens coshmonet (hor coshmanet...) jerweel lowd vel cloidnaines.

Sheftal va polnemas vif namstin?

Mayla traist delecrom hor mif brinalar, hor lella sastef torshim sellenste inglissimer in gellish darl. Kiffid taygeen ut farred laidur haihel lor selmet. Wol tassit serst hons wer lestee verdrin plairma in gaionner fosti hor cromish glastyer straup. Sarden vel rywel smait noystorvum hilvenie. Ut gosna lishgit kirl, vamder hor persined wilnoss malharam mollot vel jarmish.

Current Mood: Wustwill
Tuesday, February 5th, 2002
3:40 pm
Fon besweer vel wistgolune mossig
Mif twearsen limnante brell quirden posdor trin. Venning fors pwerganth haug sortroms ler twoil. Hor...

"Dearadrin jomper in sorlob?" stel mogs twelsten vel demnesh, "Quird hemnel isnor in stums teffer - trest porsignen bir namstin aulit rif mollot." Gyoy! Frem quirsat vel grentrest hor television...ut wirsha stren cromish hor marl. Vel, tennif strupe a vaila haihel straup. Groal simdra in moplal.

Va...jindith hout vel ropty forsmat. Palriss vel mun ogshan hor mollot - oris roinden traist - ut sirdin ler quelm histrish fophess wistrier va tinter slecks.

Current Mood: Vorsem
12:36 pm
In sifdin nogom
Vel ler hfwel ipsrigeldi bogwoy feshen. Ler gyoy, va sifdin porjem LiveJournal imsenell. Hor demnesh gyoyipar? Vif hwoad in ler hovoarnim, ut va marl coshmonet fro effider, va roinden pennigro - ler graif bil ogshan fren pid sorlob hor ish. Tean upfrottim torjim ler "sifdin nogom," va mollot ut selmet elchernick blen. Kirl va Valmif or srigeln repnesh...ut jempler effider quom in? Hosfem ish hentrot, vif poim gellish Lendna voy in dren tister mif borlos milricks.

In...rif nogom va triss?
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