Date	Name/email Nom/email	What is the best way to kill yourself when you're under 13? Quelle est la meilleure forme de suicide pour les moins de 13 ans?
27 Feb 2003	Abbie Mackellar	KILLING FOR COMPANY. When in a written exam the youth are allotted 4-hours to develop a theme, then it is neither here nor there if an individual student happens to finish before the time is up, or uses the entire time. Here, therefore, the task is one thing, and time another. But when time itself is the task, it becomes a fault to finish before time has transpired. Suppose a young man was assigned the task of entertaining himself for an entire day, and he finishes this task of self-entertainment as early as noon: then his celerity would not be mertorious. So also when Life constitutes the task. To be finished with life before Life has finished with one, is precisely not to have passed the Exam... How empty and meaningless Life has become. We bury a man; we accompany him to the grave, throw 3 spadefuls of earth on him; we ride out in a carriage, ride home in a carriage; we find consolation in the thought that we have a long life ahead of us. But how long is nine times ten years? Why not settle it all at once?? Why not stay out there and go along down into the grave and draw lots to see to whom shall befall the misfortune of being the last of the living who throws the last 3 spadefuls of earth upon the last of the Dead??? ...i suppose We have yet to evolve to such a state of resplendent sensibility...
26 Feb 2003	Minerva Mackellar	PRIMITIVITY. Every human being is born with a seed of primitivity (for primitivity means a possibility for developing the spirit). The God who created it knows best. All profane, temporal, worldly intelligence has relation to destroying one's primitivity. Prudential Philosophy has relation to developing one's primitivity. Destroy your primitivity, and you will most probably get along well in the world, maybe achieve great success... but Eternity shall reject you. Follow up your primitivity, and you will be shipwrecked in temporality............ but accepted by Eternity. ~Soren
24 Feb 2003	Michael Mackellar	THE GREAT AND SECRET SHOW. One can very well eat lettuce before its heart has been formed; still, the delicate crispness of the heart and its lovely frizz are something altogether different from the leaves. It is the same in the world of the spirit. Being too busy has this result: that an individual very, very rarely is permitted to form a heart; upon the other hand, the thinker, the poet, or the religious personality who actually HAS formed her heart, shall never be popular, not because she is difficult, but because it demands quiet and prolonged working with oneself and intimate knowledge of oneself as well as a certain isolation. Even if, in a full-toned voice, i could say something that could please each and every one, if it were of a religious nature i would not say it, because it is already a kind of religious indecency that it should be necessary to make an outcry about it; on the contrary, religious things have to do with a softly murmured soliloquy with oneself. Alas, things are so topsy-turvy that, instead of having to do with each individual going alone into her secret closet to commune quietly with herself, people believe that religion is a matter for very rambunctious talk... Take the focking absurdity of conventional terrorism, for example... ~Soren ...No, not Schmirnov Ice!! Try Blue Moon. It is much more Pure. *OO-ER*???
24 Feb 2003	Mary-Annette Mackellar	NACHTBREED. The yardstick for a human being is: how long and to what degree she can bear to be alone, devoid of understanding with others. A Being who could bear... being Alone during an entire lifetime, and alone in decisions of eternal significance, is farthest removed from the murdoch and the society-person who represent the conventional-definition of a human being. ~Soren
24 Feb 2003	Valentin Mackellar	THE LONGING. Like an invalid longing to throw off her bandages, so my healthy spirit longs to throw off my body's debility; like the victorious general, who when her horse is hit by a bullet under her, calls out for a new horse... Oh, if my spirits victorious health likewise dared call out: A new horse, a new body!! ...Like a person at sea, whose life is threatened and, when another Drowner tries to take hold of her leg, pushes her away with all her might, thus my body like a heavy weight dragging me down clings to my spirit and will end by perishing; like a steamer whose engines are too large in proportion to the vessel's construct: that is the way i suffer. This is the way i shall expire... ~Soren
23 Feb 2003	Quidam Mackellar	GLOUGLOUTER ~What were you? Hooked within this salient self not pinned by human sorrows... but bright blanched by an immortal sickness which kills not. It works a constant change, which Happy-death dares not put to an end. Deathwards progressing... to another death was that visage. It had passed. The lily and the snow; and far beyond all these i must not think now. Though i saw Her face... and felt Her eyes pass through another me. What are you? Without story or prop but my own frail mentality, i bear the load of this eternal quietude. The unchanging gloom and the six fixed shapes... Ponderous upon my senses a darkening moon. For by my burning brain i measured sure Her silvered seasons shying from the night. And ever day by day i grew More gaunt and ghostly... Oftentimes i prayed, Intense, that Death would tear my from the vale. And all its burdens... churning with despair. Beside a rotted shelf on high; you asked too soon... Not mine, my cry. What did you see? i've seen the Cerement erase a sky... i've seen the Fermament close my own eye. What do you feel?
21 Feb 2003	Soren Mackellar	SYMPARANECROMENIAN FAVORITES. VOL.37 Just as a person feels most comfortable shuffling through life without being known by Her Majesty the Queen, His Majesty the King, Her Majesty the Queen Dowager, or by His Royal Highness the Focking-Clown Prince, so, in turn, it seems to me that being known by God makes life infinitely burdensome. Whenever She is by, each half-hour becomes infinitely important. No one can stand living like that for 60 years, no more than she can stand cramming for her final exam which, after all, involves only 4 years and is really not such a terrible effort. Everything dissolves in contradiction. One moment they preach to you that you must not go about half-asleep, but live your life with the highest passion of the Infinite. All right, you pull yourself together; you arrive starched and strait-laced at the parade... then you are told that you should learn to shorten your sails. WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN??? In the end all human beings have come equally far, and the whole thing isn't really worth much. It is the same as when i saw my physician recently. i complained about not feeling well. She replied, "Perhaps you drink too much coffee and do not walk enough." 3 weeks later i talked to her again and said, "i really don't feel well, but now it cannot be because of my coffee-drinking, for i don't drink coffee, nor from lack of exercise, for i walk all day long." She replied, "Well, the reason must be that you don't drink enough coffee and that you walk too much." In other words, my indisposition remained the same, but if i drink coffee it is due to my coffee-drinking; and if i don't take coffee my indisposition is due to my not drinking coffee. And so it is with us human beings... Our entire earthly existence is a sort of indisposition; with some the cause for it is that they make too great an effort, and if one inquires into the cause, the one you ask will first say: "Do you make a great effort?" If you answer yes, she will say: "The cause is that you work too strenuously." If you answer no, she will say the opposite, put her tail between her legs and slink away. Even if somebody offered me 200 million rixdollars i would not take it upon myself to explain the enigma of life. And, anyway, why should i? If life is an enigma, a puzzle, She who has posed it probably shall come forth in the End and offer the solution when She feels that nobody is too eager to make a guess any longer. i have not invented the puzzle, but in "The Onion," "The Freischultz," as well as other papers that feature puzzles, the solution follows in the next issue. The distinction of being mentioned in the paper as the person who had solved the puzzle on the same day that the rest of us learned the solution is a matter of indifference to me. ~Soren
21 Feb 2003	Michael Mackellar	BAPS? Lucy, what the.... fock are you talking about?? i'm not precisely certain about this, but i'm still willing to feel that we must be talking about 2 very different sorts of... Solarisae. SOLARIS-the one that i was so innocently asking about-is a Film. A film starring George Clooney and some miraculously gorgeous Woman... who i believe may have some absurdly tragic gastrointestinal disorder; since she tends to carry a doorknob around with her on subways and other types of places where such disorders may subject her to relentless pummelment. Essentially, the entire film revolves around the mysteriousness of that doorknob... Everything else is just a distraction. Focus on the doorknob. The doorknob holds the Key............. What the hell am i talking about? No, seriously, Solaris is an amazing work of Artistry. If you fail to find the time to see it at least twice throughout the entirety of your earthly existence... you're a bloody deadbeat in my book... A book which is tentatively titled as~ "An Advanced Introduction To Divine Psychology" ~with a subtitle-again, tentatively as~ 'A Seethingly Strange Matter Of Profound Indifference To All The Murdochs Who Have Managed To Confine Themselves To The Vacant Throes Of Objective Spirituality.' The entire content of the book, according to fact, revolves around one Key factor: ...and this is, tentatively, Pure Tentativity. Enough about my book already. ~So Lucy, what the fock happened to your frail feathered friend, Frodo???????
20 Feb 2003	Eponine Mackellar	PAPIER TUE-MOUCHES. Hey you... you with the serpent smile... You've been a creature far too long. Hey you... you with your public displays of pain... You've been painful for too long. "THE SAVAGE GOD", written by a Mr. Alvarez (i've forgotten his first name), provides time well spent if you have any interest in the Art of Dissimulation. i often feel that the Dadaists had reality down on its knees... begging for forgiveness. ~To feign morality/To feign mortality. ~Again, there is new life here in Pleasant Prairie and the colorful, flowery coverlet of factory-life is spread over it. Last night at midnight an individual in shabby clothes was seized because, as the rental-cop said, he had shed gross abuse upon some roadside garbage-heap, but the rental-cop who should report such things had not actually seen it, and the culprit was still beaten, unjustly it is believed, and no one made a complaint... no one knows anything about it. ~Today... time stumbles bye as usual... and this is merely Pleasant Prairie. What is that compared to Cornwall, Gravesend, the World??? Each person takes her revenge on the world. Mine appears to consist in carrying my grief and anguish deeply embedded within myself, whilst my laughter entertains all. If i see somebody suffer i sympathize with her, console her to the limits of my ability... to the limits of my science... and listen to her quietly when she assures me that i am fortunate. ...If i can keep this up to the day of my Death, i shall have had my revenge. In a room above a busy street/the echoes of a life/the fragments and the accidents/are separated by incidents//Listen to the walls/we share the same spaces/repeated in the corridors/performing the same movements//The nature of your tragedy is chained around your neck/do you lead...or are you led?/i'm sure that you don't care//There are reasons here to give your life/and follow on your way/the passion breathes to keep the faith/though all are different...all are Great//Climbing as we fall/we dare to hold on to our faith/to steal away our destiny/and catch ourselves with quiet grace... ~Michael
20 Feb 2003	Michael Mackellar	Has anyone seen SOLARIS?????????????????
14 Feb 2003	Marion Mackellar	LUX AETERNA ...To love one's neighbor means, while remaining within the earthly distinctions allotted to one, essentially to exist equally for every human being without exception. Consider for a moment the world which lies before you in all its variegated multiplicity; it is like looking at a play, only the plot is vastly more complicated. Every individual within this innumerable throng is by her differences a particular something; she exhibits a definiteness... but essentially she is something other than this- but this we do not get to see here in life. Here we see only what role the individual plays and how she does it. It is like a play. But when the curtain falls, the one who played the Queen, and the one who played the Angel, and all the others- they are all quite alike, all one and the same: Actresses. And when in death the curtain shatters the stage of actuality (for it is a confused use of language if one speaks about the curtain being rolled up on the stage of the eternal at the time of death, because the eternal is no stage... it is truth), then they also are all one; they are human beings. All are that which they essentially were, something we did not see because of the difference we see; they are human beings. The stage of art is like an enchanted world. But just suppose that some evening some common absent-mindedness confused all the actresses so they thought they really were what they were representing. Would this not be, in contrast to the enchantment of art, what one might call the enchantment of an evil spirit, a bewitchment? And likewise suppose that in the enchantment of actuality (for we are, indeed, all enchanted, each one bewitched by her own distinctions) our fundamental ideas became confused so that we thought ourselves essentially to be the roles we play. Alas, but is this not the case? It seems to be forgotten that the distinctions of earthly existence are only like a costume or like a travelling cloak and that every individual should watchfully and carefully keep the fastening cords of this outer garment loosely tied, never in obstinate knots, so that in the moment of transformation the garment can easily be cast off, and yet we all have enough knowledge of art to be offended if an actress, when she is supposed to cast aside her disguise in the moment of transformation, runs out on the stage before getting the cords loose. But alas, in actual life one laces the outer garment of distinction so tightly that it completely conceals the external character of this garment of distinction, and the inner glory of equality never, or very rarely, shines through... Something it should do and ought to do constantly.
11 Feb 2003	Michael Mackellar	i used to have the WORST job in the world. Just imagine the most unbearably apathetic sort of situation which could ever befall a Being... and you'll catch a glimpse of what i went through. i sincerely HATE to think that others are subjected to such circumstances and that they are not even aware of it. Take certain trial-lawyers for instance, they'll sue MacDonald's over some focking bloke choking on a chicken macnugget, yet they don't have the balls to sue THE DEGENERATE (the man) for falsely sentencing someone to Death.
11 Feb 2003	Michael Mackellar	[insoc] DON'T BE AFRAID... ~the holy girl is in our focus she's the story of us all. she can feel our eyes upon her and the hope that she shall fall. on her left so warm and honey-sweet like a jealous loving friend. on her right such a steep cold and lonely climb. the clinging threat of rejection and the thought of her imperfection. she says she's nowhere near the end yet. still she makes no guarantees. she's comfortable with failure and her blood may one day freeze. and in her iodine stretch her eyes recede and fall away. she knows she's where nothing can reach her now. beyond where you can see. beyond where she wants to be. one day she was a child. she could touch the sun somehow. she was held in the arms of the galaxy and that child is with her now. and in her cobalt moments she'll know that she's afraid. her hands reach out and grasp at you. but she's falling further... falling further in the churning dark slide. now she's walking slowly onward through the garden you can't know. her dance so beautiful and twisted. a spinning madness in the snow. she's got a black-hole in there with her. she's got a sun down in there too. they're her partners in her eternal dance. she's not aware of time moving past her. she's not aware of getting any younger. she walks the ridge so glassy sharp. you can't find her now. you can't speak to her now... she'll never cry again. ~Kurt Harland
31 Jan 2003	Michael Mackellar	ECLIPSE2. i will take nails and hammer them into my body. Very, very gently... Very, very slowly... so it will last longer. i will draw up a precise plan. i will upholster myself everyday, say 2 inches for instance. Then. i will set fire to everything. It will burn for a long time. It will burn for 7 days. Only the nails will remain, all welded together and rusty. So i shall remain. So i shall survive. Everything. ~Tomaz Salaman
29 Jan 2003	Michael Mackellar	...And so, i am not the one who is to become lord of this life, but simply a frail thread to be spun upon the calico of History. So, i am no god. Well, then, at least i can cut a thread. ~Yes. Time. i sense it comes down to discovering which Muzik becomes the most... beautiful within the throes of your own mind. And then, devoting as much time as life permits for the undying cultivation of Understanding the Truth in Beauty. Time has taught me very well that keeping my discoveries inside is undoubtedly prudent... As i often try and share these discoveries with outside others, only to be told that my musical tastes tend to be a touch inept. Yet, as i addictively strive to subject myself towards the company, and often interaction, of abusive others, i Fear i shall never rise above from the childishness of Sharing.
22 Jan 2003	Dimitri Mackellar	SYMPARANECROMENIAN CATASTROPHES. VOL.-1 The sun is an acid eye/we're corroded with pleasure inside/there's a hole in your thin white skin/now we'll never be clean again/Our hands are two shattered claws/we scrape at the ground for hours/i buried this soul in the floor/to gain control of unfeeling/This city's a crowded room/this earth is a closing tomb/in my hand is your perfect womb/when you breathe your breath is obscene/My heart is a lead box/ideas are shutting locks/the air was just turned off/now we're sucking from this Machine/The sun did not rise today/your children will stay where you lay/the oil is black and it's thick/and sex is a void filled with plastic/The president's mouth is a whore/when there's murder the audience roars/there's no room left here for the strong/and everything Human's necessarily wrong. AMNESIA. ~m.gira
22 Jan 2003	Michael Mackellar	...Sometimes i am afraid of the terrible things that seem real, within this thickening Darkness of thought, and of the exquisite shapelessness to these things i feel. It is like a Madness at long-last, to realise that i've been fading into the pale assembly of an unreality: this baseness, this faith... this god-forsaken mind... Whilst my Self is all the while a piece of emptiness pulsating in horror, and the Horror and the Emptiness are all that remains real. This whole universe of deafening Darkness and dying passions... The subterranean universe of the things which have been denied Being... has conquered me for now, and i care not to escape. Yet still, i think with fear of having to speak... when no one dares to fathom the vacantness in such a Language.
16 Jan 2003	Michael Mackellar	SONA can be heard on the SECRET GARDEN record, "Dawn of a New Century", sung by Fionuellia Sherry. Secret Garden involves a group of beautifully gifted musicians who i believe are based in Norway. If it gets to be known that with these postings i am vainly forging my own temporal salvation..... Then it is Goodbye to this world and all its half-hearted favors.
16 Jan 2003	Michael Mackellar	SYMPARANECROMENIAN FAVORITES. VOL.549 Morning smiles like the face of a newborn child. Innocent. Unknowing. Winters end, promises of a long-lost friend. Speaks to me of comfort. But i fear... i have nothing to give, i have so much to lose here in this lonely place. Tangled up in your embrace. There's nothing i'd like better than to fall. But i fear i have nothing to give. Wind in time, rapes the flower trembling on the vine... and nothing yields to shelter. From above, They say tempation shall destroy our Love. The never-ending hunger. But i fear... ~Sarah
14 Jan 2003	Seigfried Mackellar	Like a pawn on the eternal board/ who is never quite sure what he is moved toward/ i walk blindly on/ and heaven is in front of me/ her heaven beckons me enticingly/ when i arrive its gone/ the river flows/ destiny knows/ ...i follow You. ~Dave Gahan

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