mantra

Out of damp and gloomy days, out of solitude, out of loveless words directed at us, conclusions grow up in us like fungus: one morning they are there, we know not how, and they gaze upon us, morose and gray. Woe to the thinker who is not the gardener but only the soil of the plants that grow in him.

- friedrich nietzsche

wiki.dumper
magmozine
a.guy.site
bad.chinese.mama
jejune.net
a.cause.des.garcons
spit.on.a.stranger
sluggernaut
honeyee
zefrank
born.a.waterhead
diane.pernet
tribe.net
gallery.of.the.absurd
world.community.grid
smarty.pants
bradford.shellhammer
wonder.boy
ohlala.mag
julie.fredrickson
fashionologie

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i felt a thrill after doing a dastardly deed. immediately after the fear subsides, there's this sense of exhiliration that rushed over me. i like this feeling. could it mean there's another me finally waiting to surface that laid dormant all these years? could it be? do i sense myself slowly elevating to the upper echelon of wickedness? my soul is colder by the minute, perhaps i am not meant to be warm.

while i have suspected this for quite some time, this is an interesting revelation, and i can't wait to see what will eventually come of this. i shall dwell on this.

posted by frau frump.

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