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?
26 May 2009	M.M. a.k.a. billy the freak	amsterdam heaves like the breath in her lungs. people bustle through the streets as the blood surges through her veins. i can feel this all around me.... however, i sit alone in the a bar. I want to be alone, only me and the bartender. hey, did you know i have the power to be anybody? i can go anywhere and do anything, any-fucking-way i want to do it. However, tonight I sit alone. i sit in a basement level dive too dark to see the clock on the wall, yet bright enough to see the bar in front of me. the pink neon light in the window screamed in its best cursive 'MOUCHETTE' a warm and ambient glow enveloping you like a womb welcoming all to her embrace. however, tonight i sit alone. The bartender is mouchette and i am only a guest in her place. like me she has the power to be anything, but only in the minds of other people. if you were to ask her who she was("mouchette, really who are you?")she would say she killed herself at the brink of thirteen and in death had second thoughts. now she plays a game and through this game she lives on. tonight mouchette is a thirty something italian woman with the type of beauty that says you would like to fuck her, but wouldn't really perform at your best only because you are intimidated by her razor sharp wit and her worldly charm.. She has so many friends and you never feel good enough in her company. the intimate encounters are few and far between and you both want more. when you are away she is always in the back of your mind. i know all this and tonight she is only the bartender, why she is in this spittoon of a saloon could only be guessed, but i do know she is here... aways here for me. "mouchette! baby doll, please pour me another." i belted. "billy darling no need to shout; i am right here and there is no one else in the bar." she said in a reprimanding tone."another vodka and tonic i would bet." "right you are. you know me well." "i know you because you know you, you know me and right now... this is all we know." "positively insightful mouchette, I say you inspire me. you are my muse." this i announced with a certain amount of glee. "billy" she said while fixing my drink. "I am afraid the booze is your muse.." She sat the drink down in front of me. I was outraged. "mouchette, you... how could you say this? do you want to hurt me? do you want me to feel bad?" "again billy, this is all we know. I think you must ask yourself that question." {what is her angle? what is she getting at? i want her to go with the flow.} i took the drink in one gulp then slammed the heavy short glass motioning for another drink, nectar of the gods. " vodka and tonic yes?" "ha!! i would like a whiskey and coke, if you put pepsi in there i will fucking smack you." i said triumphantly "you are slipping mouchette... maybe you are not my muse" "the joke is on you billy." she said in a tired voice and made the drink in the same dirty glass. {the joke was on me. i hate whiskey. what is this? do i have control? yes, i have all the control. when i am here i am king and she is the servant. So why do i feel so helpless.} the neon light from out side the bar shined through my half empty short glass, casting glimmers of light onto the slick bar top. the lights danced across the fine finished wood as i turned the glass between my thumb and index finger. suddenly i felt alone. no longer alone by choice, but alone... just helplessly alone. "well billy, I'm here" falicia said out of nowhere. "how did you get here." I asked. "you let me in silly, what kind of question is that." now i am simply sick of this shit. "are you going to fuck with me too falicia!" i shot the whiskey and the fumes and words came out my mouth like fire. "i don't know how you got here. i don't know why you keep coming back. i didn't open that fucking door." "i found the door and walked through it just like you did billy, ask yourself these questions and you will find the answers you are looking for." falicia ordered a mineral water and drank while i thought about what she said. i first came here when i was sixteen it was 1998 ten years passed and now i am twenty six. i didn't give anything, i only took for one decade. she was always here when i needed her and at times she made me feel special, at times she made me feel worthless. I would run away but only in presence. in the stealth of the night i would visit. the price i pay is her always haunting me, for not a day goes by... not a day goes by. did i want a suicide kit for christmas? no, i just wanted to show other children how to play with the toy. i am no longer a child, but i still play with this toy. "falicia i come here because as long as people come here i cannot die.... i will live forever. this is the gift she gave me and i tell you, i don't know if i deserve it." just when i thought i was opening up falicia started to laugh a hysterical laugh. then lucy and phil join in. chris and will snow chime and it now a chorus of laughter. joe lee, mackellar, elaine, agent orange, just a girl, and many others have the bar quaking with laughter. in spite of myself i start to chuckle as well, but i had to ask. "falicia why are we laughing." "you wanting to live forever is all fine and good," she said as she points across the bar with her finger resting towards the bartender. "but what happens when she dies." that very moment i had ad a revelation and with that change a change happened in mouchette. her cigarette burn eyes stared at me as she poured me another vodka and tonic, her smile was just crack on her plastic face
25 Jan 2004	Mackellar	Mr. Lee~ You might unearth a great deal of amusement for yourself, as well as your cat, should you study what PSYOPS has discovered about the factual nature behind a schizophrenic mind.
12 Sep 2003	Mouchette Mackellar	Once upon a time there was a wave. The name of the wave was, no surprise, Phil. Phil the wave. Phil was a big, powerful wave. His massive blue body surged across the surface of the ocean with great majesty and deceptive speed. Oh yes, Phil was quite a wave. From the moment he rose up from the ocean he felt special. He felt invincible. Ferocious storms battered him with wind and rain, great ships sliced through his very heart, and yet he rolled on. It was not for him to stop and consider the other waves. To stop was to die. Waves have to keep moving... or else. But then one day Phil saw a strange darkness on the horizon and, for the first time in his life, felt fear. What could it be? Was it connected to the laughing creature sliding across his face on a piece of wood? But before he could make sense of it all, he crashed down into the darkness. For a brief moment he felt a weird, splashing feeling, then oblivion. Phil was no more. He was now a part of the sea. And as we all know, the sea loves to make waves.
11 Sep 2003	Larius Mackellar	"By striving with every facet of the imagination to conceive of chaos, one manages only to explore a little more carefully the terrain of order. To develop one's sensual characteristics, no matter how subtly, leaves one at the mercy of the physical world and its increasingly destructive onslaught. It takes an exceedingly insensitive person today to continue to be an artist. " ~ Paul Bowles
10 Apr 2003	Mordre Mackellar	HAS ANYBODY EVER READ A BOOK CALLED "EXQUISITE CORPSE" WRITTEN BY ROBERT IRWIN??? AND HAS ANYONE SEEN HOW PERTURBEDLY EVOLVED BLOW-UP DOLLS HAVE BECOME THROUGH VISITING... REALDOLL.COM???
21 Mar 2003	Michael Mackellar	THE CORPSE WHO TRIED TO PORTRAY MERCY. ~It is Over. My life is afloat. Here i am where my soul's yearning was, where the ideas foam with elemental rage, where thoughts arise boisterously like emotions in migration, where at another season there is a stillness like the profound silence of the Dead Sea, so that no one can hear oneself speak even though the movement goes on in one's interior. There where one every instant loses and regains one's life. i belong to the Idea. When that beckons me i follow, when it appoints a tryst i await it morning and night, though it never calls at Noon. When the Idea calls i forsake everything, or rather i have nothing that would refrain from forsaking itself. i deceive nobody, i grieve no one by being faithful to the Idea, still my spirit would not become grieved by having to grieve another if that were part of the Idea. When i return home~ not the place where i belong, but the place where i live~ no one reads into my looks, no one deciphers in my countenance, no one extorts from my being an explanation which even i could not give to any other... as to whether i am blissful in gladness or despondent in madness, as to whether i have earned this Loss or Gain of life. That chalice of inebriation is again awaiting before me. Already i exhale its fragrance, already i am sensible of its sweetly insensible music... but first a libation to Her who saved a soul which sat for so long in the solitude of despair. Hail to Feminine magnanimity! Long life to the far-flung flight of Thought, to moral danger in the service of the Idea! Hail to the dangerous dance within the vortex of the Infinite! Hail to our histrionic existence! Hail to that breaking wave which drowned me within my own abyss! And Hail to the breaking wave which shall hurl us up among the Stars!!
18 Mar 2003	Sia Aryai--mackellar@cottonboll.com	.REFLECTIONS OF A YOUNG WOMAN WITHIN THE REACH OF BALANCE. i am the only being whose doom No tongue would ask, no eye should mourn; i never caused a thought of gloom, a smile of joy since i was borne. In secret pleasure, secret tears, this changlings life has slipped away; as friendless after twenty years, as lone as on my natal day. There have been times i could not face there have been times when this was drear when my sad soul forgot its place and longed for one to Love me here. But those were in the early glow of feelings since subdued by care, and they have died so long ago; these rotted clothes which i still wear. First melted off the hope of youth, then fancy's rainbow soon withdrew, and then experience told me truth in mortal bosoms rarely grew. 'Twas grief enough to think mankind so hollow, servile, insincere... but worse to trust to my own mind and find the same corruption here. ~E.B.
14 Mar 2003	Inostus Mackellar	TO SEE THE WORLD THROUGH AN UNBURIED EYE one second burns for a billion years/and time is relative/and light is physical/we feel your body/we feed your feelings/we see the eye of god blink through the citadel/and in your hands time was made/and through our breathing we'll erase it/and you can see forever/before love and hate/as space is lost/behind the universe/and in your mind hell was made/and through our breeding/we'll populate it/and you can feel forever/before faith and fear/and we will fall right through the walls/of this place where we are chained/right into the open mouth of the great annihilator...///... ~m.gira
14 Mar 2003	Michael Mackellar	SYMPARANECROMENIAN CATASTROPHES. VOL.4 ~THE DARKROOM SEARCH~ They say that Love makes us blind, and by this they explain the phenomenon. In case a man going into a darkening room to fetch something were to reply to my advice that he carry a torch by saying, "The Thing i am seeking is only a mere trifle, therefore i wield no torch." ...Ah, then i could understand him quite perfectly. On the other hand, when the same man takes me aside and confides to me in a mysterious manner that the thing he went to fetch was of unutterably remarkable importance, and therefore he could manage to do it blindly... i wonder how my poor mortal head might be able to follow the high flight of his speech. Even if only for fear of offending him i might refrain from laughter, as soon as his back was turned my head would explode with it. But at Love... Nobody laughs. Save the Gods. ~Pray your Gods who hold you by your Fear/for they are quick and ruthless punishers/Or lay upon my alter now your Love/i fear my Time is short/there are Armies moving close/be Quick, My Love. Is it that we Fear the Pain of death... or could it be we Fear the Joy of Life??
14 Mar 2003	Anti-Climaxicus	What is with all the... marvelously insightless email messages from David Still?? Being in possession of so magically vague a sense of dialect; such an exhalted degree of insensibility... Surely He basks within some rare strain of mutant-contemporal evolution of Mind, which we "common discontents" dare only Dream about. David Still should certainly be revered! ~And so He shall... My very own personal Disjecta Membrae Still-Life Dia!! Some people say he has a death wish trouble is he is Dying to agree Let's not ask too many questions it has nothing to do with you or me He remembers a time where even going home was sweet... Now he can't feel the ground under his feet Inside the dresser by the window Something he hides beside the bed Living in oblivion can't be easy some things are better left unsaid He remembers a time before the Vacance got so deep... Where he found far more safe to Sleep. Hormonally Yours, Mackellar
13 Mar 2003	Siobhan Fahey	Of all the varieties of deception, self-deception is the most pervasive and the most difficult to recognize... Especially when we are within the thrall of some doctrine which is obviously "humane."
12 Mar 2003	Ignatius Mackellar	i'm not precisely certain about this, but i'm still willing to feel that i may have seen Ntozake Shange at the local low-Art depository yesterday. Needless to say, i didn't say a word to her... though i did manage to wave from a corner of my mind. But, as of course, She wasn't looking at Time. "Towards a Unified Reality" may become the title for my first published work of fiction. Having already discovered 4 publishers who have quite politely critiqued my writing as being enormously infantile, the once questioned faith in my writing ability has been renewed. Perhaps the insistence on hand writing the first edition, then having photocopies of each page bound together and set for retail without the slightest frill... Perhaps this is a very insipid insistence. Within addition to that insipidity, i've demanded that my first work of non-fiction, "Towards a Unified Surreality", be simultaneously published. Tristan Tzara is the person i really need to get in touch with. He could surely make light of the reason behind all this... recession. Marcella Detroit is a Goddess!!
11 Mar 2003	Michael Mackellar	MY PULSAR ~WOW!! i read about Pulsars this morning (also referred to as spinning, magnetic-neutron stars). My birthstar may be one of these instead of the Blackhole i felt it must have been when i was little. Did you know the magnetic field of My Pulsar is about 100 billion times as strong as the magnetic field of the Earth?? Actually, i'm exaggerating a bit. It is only 1 billion times as strong. Most pulsars spin once every second or so; the slowest has a period of about 4 seconds, but the fastest yet discovered (which happens to be mine) spins on its axis more than 600 million times a second. Actually, i've just caught myself exaggerating again. It is only 600 times a second, but we're working on making it more impressive. Imagine a ball of stuff the size of Lucy Cortina's left... Novelty, yet containing as much mass as our Sun, spinning once every 1.6 milliseconds and there you'll have some idea just what My Pulsar is like... ...Once again i've managed to exaggerate the facts and for that you have my apologies. You would only have to imagine a ball of stuff the size of Mt Everest... nothing so immeasurably gigantic as the aforementioned... Novelty. By the bye, Roger Blandford, of Caltech, has estimated that there may be more than 100 million isolated blackholes across our Milky Way galaxy... and that the nearest one may indeed be much further away than we'd all like to hope it could be.
10 Mar 2003	Michael Mackellar+Tori Amos Forever!!!	Has anyone ever heard a song called ~HOME~ by Sheryl Crow???
10 Mar 2003	Michael Mackellar	AND SO... i AM NOT THE ONE WHO IS TO BECOME LORD OF MY OWN LIFE. BUT MERELY A FRAIL THREAD TO BE SPUN UPON THE CALICO OF HISTORY. SO, i AM JUST ANOTHER RUN-OF-THE-FOCKING-MILL ENGOD. WELL... THANK HEAVENS i CAN CUT A THREAD. No. Please don't fret. i'm well aware that Selbstmord at this pointless point would only prove to be an act of redundance... It is obvious to me that i've been quite perfectly dead since the atrocity of my own conception took place.
06 Mar 2003	Steven Morrissey-Mackellar	"In Search of Lost Time" is an amazing... volume of novels. If you wish to waste your life, productively, convince yourself to read through them all. Proust is surely the ultimate Authority on dyslocated time.
05 Mar 2003	Dominique Mackellar	[IT'S NOT] i keep going round and round on the same old circuit/a wire travels underground to a vacant lot/where something i can't see interrupts the current/and shrinks the picture down to a tiny dot/and from behind the screen it can look so perfect/but it's not//So here i'm sitting in my car at the same old stoplight/i keep waiting for a sign but i don't know what/so red turns into green turning into yellow/but i'm just frozen here on the same old spot/and all i have to do is to press the pedal/but i'm not//People are tricky/you can't afford to show/anything risky/anything they don't know/the moment you try/kiss it Goodbye//So Abbie, kiss me like a drug/like a respirator/and let me fall into the dream of the astronaut/where i get lost in space that goes on forever/and you make all the rest just an afterthought/and i believe it's you who could make it better/though it's not ~Aimee
03 Mar 2003	kinkyfairy	What's this??? The Mackellar family a la "The Osbornes" stylie. SHARON!!!!!!!
03 Mar 2003	Tristan Mackellar	THE SUN ARISES IN DARKNESS Every product of disgust capable of becoming a negation of the family is Dada; a protest with the fists of its whole being engaged in destructive action: Dada; Knowledge of all the means rejected up until now by the shamefaced sex of comfortable compromise and good manners. Dada; abolition of logic, which is the Dance of the Impotent to create. Dada; of every social hierarchy and equation set up for the sake of values by our valets. Dada; every object, all objects, sentiments, obscurities, apparitions, and the precise clash of parallel lines are weapons for the fight. Dada; abolition of memory. Dada; abolition of archaeology. Dada; abolition of the prophets. Dada; abolition of the future. Dada; absolute and unquestionable Faith in every god that is an immediate product of spontaneity. Dada; elegant and unprejudiced leap from harmony to the Other sphere, trajectory of a word tossed like a screeching phonograph record; to respect all individuals in their unavoidable folly of the moment: whether it be serious, fearful, timid, ardent, vigorous, determined, enthusiastic; to divest one's church of every useless cumbersome accessory; to spit out amorous ideas like a luminous waterfall, or coddle them... with the extreme satisfaction that it doesn't matter in the least... with the same intensity in the thicket of one's soul, pure of insects for blood wellborn, and gilded with bodies of Archangels. FREEDOM: Dada Dada Dada, a roaring of tense colors, and interlacing of opposites and of all contradictions, grotesques, inconsistencies: LIFE.
27 Feb 2003	Michael Mackellar	Has anyone seen "Lord of Illusions"? i tend to feel that the way Swann faked his own demise was pretty slick. If anyone could actually pull that off, and manage to get it recorded on film... They would have my vote towards being served a ranking of 'best'. Just make certain you capture it all in Real Time...

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