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Found out your IP

Posted 20 August 2002, 1.48 pm by Craig

A Link for Roach

Posted 18 August 2002, 2.46 am by Berly

A site that makes fun of all things Rave.


Finding Myself

Posted 16 August 2002, 12.31 am by Sunny2Tall

400 and some odd miles and about 6 hours worth of driving and I had arrived. I left the comfortable grounds that were my birthplace of Scottsdale, Arizona and had arrived to the destiny set upon me, Hollywood. As some of oyu may know around this time I had just graduated from school and was out to find a job and a new home in a place that I had only seen in postcards sold at Disneyland and the harsh reality quickly set in upon arrival. I suppose that the pock marked to plastic surrounding were a bit unsettling but what really put a still of fear into me was the complete unknowing of what could possibly happen in the next few weeks.
For those of you who have yet to learn, the lesson they do not, or merely neglect to teach in school is that education will really only get you as far as a foot in the door and does little to help you catch a job especially one in the vastly large and slippery red haring known as the entertainment industry. The one line I had to hold onto was an internship interview a week from the day. Until then I was on my own.
When you're by oyurself and living on the bread crumbs that you hope will lead you to a more normal life you quiuckly lear the things that you've known forever and they begin to haunt you. You start to annalyze the things around you as miniscule as they may seem. The sounds quickly become louder and you become softer. You start to read the books that you've read a hundred times before and they seem as though they are all anew. You begin to write uncontrollably, sometimes the same things over and over and over. Movements become waves and shadows become a reflection that you love. Little deffinition in them but enough to recognize and be familiar with. You look at it and it just looks right back at you. Okay maybe I'm exagerating a bit. But I did tend to drive myself crazy and I knew I needed to change. To reinvent myself so to speak.
I suppose I could have just been moer outgoing and not such the shell ridden hermit crab that I was and felt I had to be in this place. As it seemed my mother would say, "If you say the wrong thing you're likely to get shot," or something to that effect. At least thats what I had convinced myself she did say. That was really just the begining. I figured I could do so much more. In a place where no one knows you and the ones you know don't even know themselves you have a complete blank slate from which you can etch new features for yourself. A slight manipulation to make yourself appear differently.
Nine days later and nearly 25 pounds lighter than what I had arrived with, a new attitude and demeanor on life and I was a different person. The decision I made after truly realizing how much I had changed was a bit irrational to say the least but I felt it was neccessary. Especially because the afore mentioned interview went excedingly well and I would have a job soon enough. Not much longer would I need this fabricated finish, so it became an experiment I guess, and with this decision I named the experiment and kept tabs on it. A bit of a cultural experiment. It became the Obnoxious Cultural Project or OCP for short.
Fitting I thought. I knew I for one would not want to be around the person I was pretending to be. But as it turned out that was nearly an exclusive thought of my own. Crass, crude, and heavy on the annoying was the direction I was aiming for. I think I came close the majority of the time. The experiment lingered around the record stores and rehearsal spaces of North Hollywood, the smaller and less glamourous (if you can imagine) version of Hollywood, and after recieving restricted internet access from Kinko's clerks that had taken a liking to the OCP occasionally he would appear on the AkpCep IRC channel.
I guess to really explain how the OCP acted I will have to give you a sample conversation. This took place at night at a record store (but they also sell other forms of entertainment.) The target was a 26 - 34 year old man that happened to glance just a little longer than he should have at the porn section. We'll call him Shemp.
"Hmmm." I stand closely behind Shemp and am noticeably looking over his shoulder. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye with a slight startle. I step forward, grab a tittle and start reading the back as if I were comparing it to a more reputable one. Shemp begins to walk away. "Have you seen this one?" I try to keep a strait face. Shemp looks at me with such innocence. As though he wanted to say, "Me? Why I never watch porn, its demeaning to women." I could tell he was already uncomfortable. He just kind of stared at the dvd in my hand then quickly replied, "Um, No." As much of a non-conversation as that was the clerk, who was not far away, couldn't help but snicker. She looked at me like I had accomplished more that embarassing some guy. The only real thing I can figure is that I had done something she had always wanted to do but never did. We talked a little and I remained as crass and crude as possible. I mad quick assumptions as to the type of person she was, oyu know, working in a record store and all. I remember one of the things I said was, "I've bet you've seen all of these." Amazingly she didn't smack me and we still remain friends today. I guess that doesn't show much more than a bit of courage, and I'm sure some of you are saying, "What's the big deal, I do that all the time." The deal, to me at least, was that this wasn't me. I never acted or reacted like this. To quickly sum up how I am, I was once called a walking talking sesame street character and that is not far from exageration.
The point of the project now that I think about it wasn't only to see how people responded to the bad-mannered abusiveness of the OCP first hand, but also to see how they responded to me after I ended the experiment. Bewilderment is really the only way I can describe how surprised I was at how people did react to the OCP. I wouldn't say I was lost without it but certain things seemed to come easier in this guise. "Everyone loves an asshole" I guess is the best way I could put it. The results of the OCP are all based on location I'd say, but all in all just a mediocre success. Basically it just pointed out I'm a better actor than I thouhgt and, as Alexander put it so subsinctly, "when you act like a shit people treat you like one." But I would have to add, "and they enjoy it."


Posted 14 August 2002, 1.39 am by Villager

What is it, to be happy? Is it to always have a smile, always see the brighter side of life, and never cry? Is it to know only joy, pleasure and feelings of contentedness, delirium and elation? Is it to never fall into sadness, sorrow and depression? If that is the definition of happiness, I know I shall never be happy. But I don't want to smile all day, and never know of sorrow, sadness, depression, doubt or struggle. A peachy life of roses and sunshine isn't a real world. The typical definition/idea of happiness is wrong. That is cloud cuckoo-land, not a realistically attainable situation in life.

Happiness should be a state of mind where you know joy and its entailments, but not where they are your sole pursuit. To know of joy, and to balance it with wisdom, learning and self-reflection, whether good or bad, leads far more to fulfilment than gratifying one's immediate senses. You might even say the understanding and acceptance of joy means more than its actual experience. Without understanding joy cannot be worth the title of 'happiness', although the converse is of course true. Joy is a vital part of life, however the individual chooses to go about that. Without knowing hard times, good times cannot be fully appreciated, and without experiencing hardship and struggles you have no perspective as to the way in which you deal with these elements, and how they affect you.

You might say that my 'balance' of joy with other less titillating forms of experience and thought process form a kind of happiness themselves, but perhaps even if they should, that would not be a commonly held or accepted view. Happiness is supposed to total, unblemished and the result of your hard work and attainment of various pursuits in life. Money, career, stable household. Fuck that. The common perception of happy purports a delusional pursuit of an empty, worthless lifestyle. What we tell ourselves we want and need we may be able to convince ourselves of, but is it really right that such material developments grow over natural instincts of friendship, learning, family life, community and personal development?

What a place to be...

Posted 11 August 2002, 3.38 am by Jake

Three days.

It had been three days since Lisa had last heard from her daughter. The grandchildren were supposed to have come over that day to go shopping for school supplies. Too bad that her daughter, Linda, had gotten mixed up with this Mexican immigrant that couldn’t write or read, Spanish or English. ‘Goddamn’, she thought. ‘Young maiden, I hope your hours are more gentle than mine.’
She picked up the telephone and called her sister and brother-in-law.
“Hey, Shelley?”
“Yeah, what’s up, sis? Haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“Well, I have a sort of predicament that I wanted your help. And John’s help, too.”
“What’s up?”
“Well, I haven’t heard from Linda in about a week. The kids were supposed to come over and go shopping with me, and nobody is answering the phone. I passed by their house this morning and no cars were there. I was wondering if you and John would go over there with me so we can check things out. This really bothers me.”
“Well….sure. We don’t have to work today and all of the chores are done, so we’ll see you in a bit, I guess.”
“Alright…thanks Shell. I appreciate you guys helping out.”
“Well, why not? It’s your daughter, my niece, after all.”
“I know. See you in a little while.”

Lisa placed the telephone in its cradle with shaky hands. She lit a cigarette, inhale…exhale the carcinogens and tar…and walked out to her Envoy. She started it up with a resounding “vrooom” and took off to her sister’s house.

On the way to Linda’s house, Shelley could tell that something was really bothering her sister. She spoke in short, erratic sentences and was visibly shaking. She drove fast, way too fast compared to the calm, cool demeanor with which she managed when driving to the grocery store….something was really wrong.

They pulled into the desolate driveway, the gravel crackling under the new Goodyear tires. Linda’s black lab, Hershey, was on a chain in the backyard, barking rapidly at the arrival of company. Lisa stared vapidly at the house for a minute, and then proposed: “Alright, you guys ready?”
“Sure,” Shelley replied, with a tone of insecurity resounding in her throat. She patted John on the knee.
“You ready to go, babe?”
“Yeah, ready as ready can be,” he replied with a hint of worry.
Lisa quipped; “John, could you go look in the backyard? Just see what’s going on there? I think they may have moved, according to the neighbors. Shelley can come with me to see what’s inside.”
John reassured his sister-in-law’s frightened mind. “No problem. You want me to feed the dog while I’m back there?”
“Yeah. I think they keep the dog food in one of the sheds.”

John trudged around the side of the house, grumbling to himself. “Fuckin’ ungrateful kids, leaving town and not telling anyone….”
Hershey barked at John’s entrance, wagging his tail in sheer delight. John looked at both of the steel bowls. Empty. He skulked over to the side of the house, turning on the water spigot and running a fresh bowl of water for Hershey. He heard three sharp knocks around the front of the house. ‘Shelley and Lisa,’ he thought. He looked at the overflowing bowl and walked back over to turn off the water. Three more sharp knocks, even faster.
He shook his head and paced to the closest shed. “Maybe the dog food’s in here?” he said to himself. Hershey yelped and whimpered.
“Guess so.”
John breathed a sigh of uncertainty as he reached for the lock. Three more sharper knocks, running together as a single, drawn-out rap. “Guess nobody’s home,” he thought again. He opened the door to the first shed.
Nothing, save for a few fishing poles covered in cobwebs, a saw, and a few axes. He shut the door, cursed the lock as he snapped it back into place, and stepped over to the next one. He noticed that there was no lock on this one. Odd. He twisted the doorknob, and heard an exclamation of surprise and maybe even fear from the front of the house. Then he looked into the shed.

“HOLY FUCK!” Lisa yelped as they walked into the house. There was blood all over the walls. Blood on the couch, on the television, on the new cream-colored carpet. “Jesus Christ, what happened? Look for them and the kids!”
Shelley heard a scream from the backyard. It was unlike anything she had ever heard. A banshee, even.
She saw John running from the furthest shed, yelling hysterically and waving his arms. She darted to the back door, unlocked it and shoved open the screen. “What’s wrong, hon?”

John didn’t know what to think. It was horrible. Flashes returned to him. An arm. A doll. A pool of blood. The intestines, spilled and hanging from the young girls’ corpses. The bloody scythe lying on the wooden floor, reeking of guilt. He ran towards Shelley, screaming and raving. “We gotta fuckin’ get outta here! Something really bad has happened! Jesus fucking Christ! Let’s just get in the fucking car and leave, right now! Get your sister and let’s go!”

They both paused and stayed silent as they heard a bloodcurdling wail from inside the house.

Lisa stood like a statue in the doorway, horrified. The depraved show that lay before her eyes was too much to bear.
Four men and two women sat around the emaciated corpses of Linda and her Mexican boyfriend. They were pulling off small pieces of rotted flesh in their teeth, grinning and growling with pleasure as they consumed the matter of what was once alive. They were all reveling in their bloodbath, and then the door opened.
Fresh meat.
Two of the men leapt up from their fresh discovery, rushing toward Lisa like an oncoming train. She screamed, and then was jerked from the doorway.
John leapt forward with an axe in his hand. With a primal bellow, he dove for the first person. He swung with all of his might, and his aim was true. He heard the solid thunk as his weapon met flesh and bone. The axe dug into the head of the first attacker, dropping him to the ground like a ton of bricks.
The second person was met by a knife-wielding Shelley. He was overtaken by her onslaught of vigor, and her erratic slashes proved to be too much. She drug the sharp knife across both forearms of the attacker, and jabbed it quickly into his throat.
The other four looked at what Shelley and John had done, and grinned wholeheartedly. They started toward the duo with bloody teeth bared and ready. Lisa ran in, screaming, with what appeared to be somewhat of a Molotov Cocktail, rigged with a cheap bottle of Cuervo and a paper towel doused in alcohol. She tossed the flaming concoction at the offending group, and grabbed John and Shelley by the arms. “We’ve got to get the hell out of here!”
“What?!?”the pair asked.
“I turned on the gas lines, we gotta leave now!!”
“Well quit talking, and let’s fucking go!”

Bob the Builder Sex

Posted 10 August 2002, 6.46 pm by Craig

This is just plain wrong.

Achilles Heel

Posted 9 August 2002, 11.41 pm by Alexander

If you don't stand for something you'll fall for anything.

But this is not without it's drawbacks. I can quite clearly trace the path of my life through those who oppose me. Back when I was a kid, I didn't really care about anything - nothing drove me except the next weekend or school holiday or birthday or christmas. If you discount the chronic hypochondria, happier times. For pretty much all of my adult life I've been driven by a variety of concepts both adopted and self-realised. This isn't really news to anyone who visits this site regularly or who claims to be my friend in what we tenuously allude to as 'real life'. I stopped making apologies a long time ago, but my sense of how others perceive me and react to my modus operandi has been sharpened somewhat of late.

I was describing to someone today how people can only really hurt you - get to the core of you - when you care about something. The really talented individuals can eke this out and prey on it for whatever reason. I care about a great many things and I don't hide it. I care about my art for the main, and this encapsulates my world wide web ventures, my music, my paintings and drawings, my kung fu. I also care about the world, which might seem nebulous and 'miss america', but I care about it in the respect that I recognise what I see to be obvious flaws and I alter my own behaviour to affect change. In my experience very few people do this or realise they can. Or maybe they can and they just don't choose to.

Each of these is a target and an easy way to irritate, upset or hurt me, potentially. If I distanced myself from all that by saying 'ah who cares', I almost definitely would not be putting 100% into my endeavours - and what's the point in doing anything if you're not going to do your utmost? So... I stand behind it all unreservedly and I take whatever flak comes my way.

Now, this is understandable and by no means exclusive to myself. Nor am I taking a 'martyrs' stance on it. I fully accept that the further left-field my ideas and endeavours become, the harsher and easier criticism and mockery come. Like most of you, I look to my idols and I see that not one of them has had a life without obstacles, without mockery and undeserved hatred. It's part of the whole package. You want to attempt innovation? You want to attempt to change things? Well best of luck boy because some people are afraid and insecure and clever in all the wrong ways.

I'm sure we're all guilty at times of knocking down something we don't understand or simply don't want to understand. We attempt to bring the protagonist back 'down to earth' or even better, underneath us.

The next time you're about to scoff at the performance artist, or dismiss all modern art as junk, or badmouth the entrepeneur, take a moment to ask yourself 1) Why do I feel the need to mock or belittle them? and 2) In what way is their activity negatively affecting my life?

There are worse evils in the world than experimentalists, artists, individuals, people with a higher purpose or a concept. Like blind ignorance, inbred fear of change and instinctive rejection of new points of view.

Drinking games!

Posted 8 August 2002, 8.21 pm by Craig

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In 2018 I started painting again. This was one of a series of acrylic sketches I did to relearn techniques and revisit my skills from art college.

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Hey Cris, it's as busy here as it was at the end - which is to say, not at all

I wish I could new you guys was here in the beginning of 2020 LOL

OMG I was feeling nostalgic and I can’t believe that AKP is still here! So how’s it going ?

Props to Green Mamba for bringing the weirdness


80s candy bars were pretty good

only because i traded it for a candy bar in the 80's.


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