Touch me. Touch me like you didn't touch me last night.

I am Sick as Fuck(tm) and as such have no moral or legal obligation to make any damned sense at all. There will probably be a series of postings. Cope.

Odd note: the dentist's office that I used to go to as a child is now a pub. Bit odd, that. Sullivan, Illinois, is an odd place. Not a bad place to grow up -- especially with all the time I spent in St.Louis with my mother -- but I could not live there. Not even temporarily. Do you HEAR ME MR. FEAR?!?!?

Right, so while working in the bookstacks, I came across a, whaddyacall, book. Journal thingy. And it's from 1918, so copyright has expired. As such, I shall be posting a weirdass poem from the inside of the cover.

( THE LIBRARY LOG (Ten Numbers Per Year), Published by the Public Library for the Citizens of Milwaukee, has a poem for you. )

Moral of the story? The other dead soldiers will like you better when you die if you don't rape the natives.

benjamin sTone
Current Music: "Savage Sexteen" - My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult
Last Book I Read a Page of: THE LIBRARY LOG (Ten Numbers Per Year), Published by the Public Library for the Citizens of Milwaukee
Last Movie: sickasfuck has been making me keep falling asleep during PALE FLOWER
Next Movie: still Wong Kar Wai's FALLEN ANGELS, I swear