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skonen_bladesI went to see Secret Machines tonight. Verging on the best concert I have ever seen. And there were about fifty people there. And they're going to tear Richards on Richards down. Vancouver doesn't deserve good music. They should open up 'Roxy's' bars on every corner like Starbucks. Then Vancouver would get what it wants. The people who didn't like the lack of good venues or alternative night life clubs would move out or die off and the mannequins would take over. Then beauty and homogeny would reign. It would be more like the movies than the movies. It would be voted the most beautiful place in the world to live.
Tiny phosphorous calcium gelignite fleckcharges dot the surface of my internal organs like seeds on a strawberry.
I am a reporter. My papers are in order. I have aroused no suspicion. I am in a room with other reporters. I am waiting for the target to enter. On paper, my name is Allison Kreeger. My papers are in order. My real name is Bree/WWD33-BiWep34.3.02. I am named after Bree the scientist. She worked on the project. I am two months old. My thoughts are simple but my mimicry is inhuman. I am not impersonating anyone. The other reporter is sick. I am taking his place. I work for a paper in Minnesota. I answer to Allison Kreeger. I am in a room with other reporters and I am waiting for my target to enter.
My target enters.
He gives a speech.
He asks if there are any questions.
I stand and wave my pen like the other reporters but I don't speak. I pretend to vie for his attention like the others. I get his attention. I have been bred for that. He mentions the name of my newspaper that he can see in large print on my name tag.
The podium is packed with microphones. The room is crowded with cameras. The reporters are sitting down to let me ask my question.
Tiny phosphorous calcium gelignite fleckcharges dot the surface of my internal organs like seeds on a strawberry.
They are set to ignite at the onset of a chemical/electrical trigger stutter from my brain that in turn is set off by a post hypnotic suggestion that I will set in motion by saying a set of code words that have been repressed until it is time to use them.
Into the waiting silence I smile and say the code words.
"Mister President."
For a second I am Jesus and I flood the room with white light. Then I stop being Jesus and the White House explodes like in Independence Day.
This is the best commercial I have seen this week. I have watched it six times.
kung fu clowns .
Bill Gates spoke at E3 today. This is momentous because Bill Gates has reportedly never been to E3. This is the E3 that my company is showing nothing at. This is the E3 that has told the booth babes to cover up this year. This is the E3 that has severely limited retailer access. This is the E3 that sucks. There will be nothing until next year.
And the Wii. Reminds me of this .
luggage
Tiny phosphorous calcium gelignite fleckcharges dot the surface of my internal organs like seeds on a strawberry.
I am a reporter. My papers are in order. I have aroused no suspicion. I am in a room with other reporters. I am waiting for the target to enter. On paper, my name is Allison Kreeger. My papers are in order. My real name is Bree/WWD33-BiWep34.3.02. I am named after Bree the scientist. She worked on the project. I am two months old. My thoughts are simple but my mimicry is inhuman. I am not impersonating anyone. The other reporter is sick. I am taking his place. I work for a paper in Minnesota. I answer to Allison Kreeger. I am in a room with other reporters and I am waiting for my target to enter.
My target enters.
He gives a speech.
He asks if there are any questions.
I stand and wave my pen like the other reporters but I don't speak. I pretend to vie for his attention like the others. I get his attention. I have been bred for that. He mentions the name of my newspaper that he can see in large print on my name tag.
The podium is packed with microphones. The room is crowded with cameras. The reporters are sitting down to let me ask my question.
Tiny phosphorous calcium gelignite fleckcharges dot the surface of my internal organs like seeds on a strawberry.
They are set to ignite at the onset of a chemical/electrical trigger stutter from my brain that in turn is set off by a post hypnotic suggestion that I will set in motion by saying a set of code words that have been repressed until it is time to use them.
Into the waiting silence I smile and say the code words.
"Mister President."
For a second I am Jesus and I flood the room with white light. Then I stop being Jesus and the White House explodes like in Independence Day.
This is the best commercial I have seen this week. I have watched it six times.
kung fu clowns .
Bill Gates spoke at E3 today. This is momentous because Bill Gates has reportedly never been to E3. This is the E3 that my company is showing nothing at. This is the E3 that has told the booth babes to cover up this year. This is the E3 that has severely limited retailer access. This is the E3 that sucks. There will be nothing until next year.
And the Wii. Reminds me of this .
luggage
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no subject
Date: 10 May 2006 10:39 (UTC)What's that over there?
Click.
no subject
Date: 10 May 2006 15:33 (UTC)Well....
Date: 10 May 2006 17:27 (UTC)Re: Well....
Date: 10 May 2006 20:39 (UTC)Vancouver's concert scene is one of my favourite things about the city
Re: Well....
Date: 10 May 2006 22:10 (UTC)Re: Well....
Date: 11 May 2006 17:23 (UTC)